#La Caravane Passe

[theoutcastrogue]

La Caravane Passe - Maria Kalash

Maria, Maria Kalash Fais-moi la guerre, fais-moi l’amour Maria, Maria Kalash Chasse la vipère, chasse le vautour

Maria Kalash aime le clash Elle va de port en port étancher sa soif Elle fait chanter les porcs, elle fait valser les vaches Elle balance les corps sans laisser de trace

Maria Kalash chasse comme une apache Les machos, les chacals, les chiens, les peaux d’vache Les bons, les brutes et les truands, elle les piétine tendrement Maria Kalash, championne de catch

Maquillage de guerre, peinture malgache Elle chasse le gibier sans relâche Les macros, les proxos, et les primates Acariens, moins que rien, les acariâtres Les cowboys, les batteurs et les sales types Les pervers pépères narcissiques Les frotteurs, les ordures, les durs à cuire Elle les change en lapin et puis les tire

Maria Kalash, fais-moi payer cash Les inégalités, qu’importe le match Mais il faut que tu saches que dessous ma moustache Se cache une autre place pour toi, ma kalash.

[observatoiredumensonge]

Le ministre parle, la caravane passe…

Catastrophe, c'est la catastrophe !

[Une prof en France] Temps de lecture = 3 minutes Rien ne devrait changer dans nos écoles sauf le nivellement par le bas qui va encore s’accentuer. Virginie Fontcalel Pour poursuivre notre combat face à la dictature de la pensée unique :Cliquer ICI pour nous soutenir ⬆︎⬆︎⬆︎⬆︎⬆︎⬆︎⬆︎ Le ministre parle, la caravane passe… [Une prof en France] J’ai entendu notre ministre parler, enfin,…

[icariebzh]

" .../... Je suis un déçu de l'humanité, comme d'autres le sont du socialisme ou du capitalisme. Depuis belle lurette, je sais que le navire de notre espèce ira par le fond. L'arche de Noé ne touchera pas d'autre mont Ararat. On peut exprimer cette idée de diverses façons: la dernière goutte fera déborder le vase. Le bolide percutera le mur. Nous fonçons vers le précipice en nous réjouissant de notre vitesse prodigieuse, que nous nommons "croissance"...Chaque métaphore est éculée, mais pertinente. .../..."  Yves Paccalet

[coovieilledentelle]

A la recherche d'un coin tranquille pour un bivouac ... la caravane passe

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

No votes for genocide!

By Struggle-La Lucha New York bureau

Nov. 2 — Three days before the capitalist elections, people gathered in Manhattan’s Union Square to say no to the mass murder in Palestine and Lebanon. Called by the Shut It Down 4 Palestine Coalition, the action was part of a National Day of Action to say no votes for genocide!

“The U.S. government funnels billions of our tax dollars to Israel as they continue to commit genocide against the Palestinian people,” declared the coalition. “During this presidential election, we won’t forget the candidates’ blatant support for the genocide.”

Speakers at the Union Square rally demanded a ceasefire and stopping the endless baby-killing weapons shipments to the Zionist occupiers of Palestine.

People marched up New York City’s avenues through Herald Square and Times Square before holding a final rally at the reference library on Fifth Avenue. No matter what happens on election day, the struggle for Palestinian liberation will continue.

Later, just before midnight, several dozen protesters gathered outside NBC Studios at Rockefeller Center to confront Kamala Harris, who made a surprise appearance on Saturday Night Live. As her caravan passed, they waved Palestinian flags and chanted, “100,000 people dead, Kamala, your hands are red” and “Democrat, Republican, genocide is by bipartisan.”

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [42]

chapter forty-two, act five: the ballad of me and my brain

masterlist

November 3rd 2017

Tommie had woken up alone in Phoebe’s apartment, with many missed calls and texts of people asking if she was okay.

Her brows had furrowed and she’d hesitated to call Adam back first. He’d called her eleven times, and although they haven’t spoken since that day he came to the apartment she still worries something is wrong.

Her mind goes to her grandparents, but she spoke to her nan yesterday. They were on their way to a trip to Tenby in the caravan with the dog, they’re fine. Unless something happened on the trip. 

Nan can’t swim. Granch got sick. Or a heart attack, or an accident-

“Tom? Tom, thank god, are you still in LA-?”

It’s then she realises how late into the LA afternoon it is, her clock reads one o’clock and she realises she’d probably been up way longer than she should’ve been writing away until her heart's content (until she passed out from exhaustion).

“What’s going on?”

“Matty’s missing.”

This is the first time she’s heard his name in months, and her heart stops.

She sits up straighter, both Button and Max looking up at her in question. “What?”

“We tried to stage an intervention, shit-” She hears him sigh, can hear Ross and George arguing in the background with another voice that sounds a lot like Jamie, “He took off, a few days ago, he’s been doing it alot lately, he’s never been gone this long.”

“Where are you?”

“San Jose.”

She sighs and climbs out of bed, putting her phone on speaker and setting it on the bedside table. She grabs a pair of jeans from the chair she’d thrown them onto last night, getting a random t-shirt and throwing it on quickly, not even bothering with the effort of finding a bra. She does however, go to the effort of saying goodbye to the two dogs before shoving on her shoes, grabbing her bag that holds her essentials (keys, wallet, journal, lip balm, cigs, lighter and some other unnecessary shit.).

“I’ll come meet you, you in the place we stayed in last time?”

“No, we’re in the fancy one across the road you liked the look of.” She hears more arguing, and then a door slams, “It’s seven hours, Tommie, you- stay in LA, I just- has he tried calling you?”

“No, no he hasn’t. I haven’t talked to him since TRNSMT.”

Adam sighs, “He’s not himself, Tommie, I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s in his own head, doing so many fucking drugs, Tom, I-” He sighs, she hears a sob-like sound get stuck in his throat, “We’re trying but he’s not listening, saying he needs to clear his head-”

Suddenly it dawns on Tommie and she pauses halfway down the steps outside of her building, “What has he said?” She asks quickly, fumbling to get the Uber app up as she walks down the street, “Tell me exactly what he said before he left, Ads.”

Adam sighs, stutters a few times as he tries to remember the conversation he had with Matty five days prior, “Um, something about the drugs helping him sleep, clearing his mind, helping him write and create, said that the drugs are his muse or some philosophical shit. I-I don’t know, Tommie.”

She watches her Uber pull up and puts the phone to ear, “Ads, I’ll call you back, don’t worry alright.”

“Tom, please don’t-”

“Don’t worry.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

The studio is a mess, clothes thrown over floors, crumpled up pieces of paper, cans of beer, coke and all different kinds of things ruin her path to the booth.

There’s a drum beat on loop, it's so loud she can hear it through the headphones and it almost drowns sounds of snoring from the curly haired musician.

He’s half on the settee half off, wearing only a pair of boxers and a large hoodie of their own band.

Tommie pushes her way through the mess on the floor that her hands shake to clean, she satisfies the urge for her hands to move by moving her foot to kick at Matty's side.

When he doesn’t wake she hits him harder and he gasps, curling over on himself, “Ow.”

“Get up.”

His eyes snap open at the voice and he sits up, fumbling to pull the hoodie down to cover himself and she rolls her eyes, “What are you doing?”

“Making music.”

She looks around, “Looks like it.”

She walks over to the mixing board and pauses the drum beat playing then looks back at him, “What are you doing, Matty?”

“Why don’t you call me Roddy anymore?”

She sighs and clenches her jaw, “You’re not my Roddy,” She tells him quietly, “I don’t know where he went, but… he’s been gone a while. I miss him, If you see him- if you see him, will you let him know?”

Matty rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair, “What are you doing here?”

“The guys are worried, so worried that they actually mentioned your name to me, which, I’m gonna be honest, I haven't heard since Scotland.”

“Bet you loved that.”

“I did, actually.”

He scoffs, eyeing her up and down, she crosses her arms and leans back against the desk behind her.

“What are you doing here, Tommie?”

“I care about you, Ma-”

He scoffs again harsher this time and stands up, “Don’t make me laugh, you’re the one who walked out on us all, remember? Back in July, picked up your guitar and ran off to LA like it meant nothing.”

“I- what did you expect me to do, Matty?” She asks, keeping her voice on a lower level despite his shouting a few minutes prior. “Did you expect me to sit beside you and hold your hand as you killed yourself I-”

She shakes her head and looks away, “You left us. Not just me, you left-”

“Just because I left doesn’t mean I don’t still love you.”

He pauses, mouth open as he was preparing to shout something else. Tommie sighs, hands coming up to cover her face for a few seconds. Too many seconds, although he counts his head, he reaches twelve, he still thinks it's too long for her to hide away from him.

“I’ll always love you, Matt.” She promises, she avoids looking at him and he takes a few more steps forward to get closer to her, “I love you too much to sit by and watch you do this to yourself-”

“So you left me? Made it worse-”

“You won’t listen!” She moves her hands away from her face to shove his chest. He moves back to arms length then. Just watching her.

She shakes her head, finally raising her voice, “You won’t listen to any of us, to me, G, Ads, Ross, your own mother who’s gone through the same thing, we’re all worried about you.”

“I’m fine-”

“No you’re not.” She tells him, “Look at yourself,” Despite his better judgement he lets his eyes glace to his reflection in the dark tinted window behind her, “You’re a fucking mess, Matty, and quite frankly it’s fucking pathetic.”

He lifts his head, looking at her down his nose, “Half the time you can’t string a sentence together, you’re passing out on stage, lashing out at everyone, you’re a mess, Matthew.”

His jaw quivers as he tries to keep his composure, “You’re so- so god damn stubborn, and blind. Look around, Matt, you have so many people here trying to help you, trying to love you and you just won’t let them. Why, because you’re scared?”

“You don’t know anything about-”

“Quite the opposite, “She bites back, “I know you, Matty, I know everything about you. I know everything about my Matty.”

She steps to him this time, lifting one hand ready to hold him, “Are you scared, Matty?”

He looks to the small coffee table in the studio, one they'd spent many nights gathered around with pizza boxes listening to music and telling jokes. On the table sits a joint, beside it empty packets that she doesn’t even want to know are inside of it.

“I’m not-”

“Matt.”

‘You’re in love with her but you’re afraid a guy like you will ruin her. And you will.’

He nods quickly, letting the tears welling in his eyes linger a little longer, “I’m afraid, Tom.”

“Of what?”

He shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath; neither of them can understand, “Of what?”

She shakes her head and walks closer to him but he fights her off, not letting her touch him, “I-”

“Matt-”

She watches his eyes dart to the door as he licks his lips, “I’ve got a flight.”

“Matt-”

“Tomorrow, I need to pack all my stuff.”

“Matty, please, just slow-”

He nods to himself as he gathers the only thing he brought with him, a little tote bag, her little tote bag. One from the record shop she likes in London. He shoves inside his wallet, phone, charger and notebook then starts stumbling around until he finds his jeans and shoes.

“Matty, would you please-”

“I’ve got to go-”

“Matty,” She huffs, trying to follow him around but his longer legs are moving too fast, closing up his laptop, stopping the demo, throwing the stupid memory stick with the song he was working on into the mess around them, “Matt, please, just stop for a couple seconds- Let’s talk-”

“Nothing to talk about, I have to go, seven hours to San Jose-”

“Matt!”

He still doesn't listen so she pauses as he opens up the door, “I broke up with Caleb.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

“Why’d you break up?”

Tommie watches him dip his fries into the red sauce and then shove them into his mouth as if he hasn't eaten for years.

She sighs and looks down at the table in the little diner they’re sitting at, she picks at the table cloth beneath them and leans back.

“Creative differences.”

He snorts and she finds her lips curling a little bit into a smile.

“Seriously?”

He shakes his head a little, “I always hated him, I mean, not just because of the whole you thing, but because he was a raging arsehole-twat-prick dude.”

She nods her head in thought, “I mean, he hated Deftones, you love Deftones, if I hated them- hell, if I uttered a single bad word about them you'd break my neck- literally! I can’t believe you didn’t break up with him over that. And one major thing you should’ve ran from was his love of country music, I mean, If I heard Jesus take the whe-”

“He got me pregnant.”

Matty pauses, fry mid air, mouth open ready to bite down on it, instead his gaze is settled right on her, missing the ketchup dripping down to stain the white table cloth on the table.

“What?” He looks down towards her stomach slowly and she shifts uncomfortably covering herself with her arms, “You’re pregnant?”

“I had an abortion, few weeks ago, that’s why I’m out here, Matt.”

“What did he-”

“He told me I had no right because it was his baby too, and threatened to tell the press.”

“Did he? I mean, I haven’t seen anything but-”

She shakes her head “I told him if he did that then I’d make sure his band never made it. Then I kicked him out of the apartment, cut my lease short and moved in with Phoebe.”

He hums in thought, picking at the table cloth.  

“I was so scared, Matt. I’m terrified of the thought of having children, of ruining my career, my life, not because I’m not as strong as other women or anything like that, or I won’t be able to do that. Because I just don’t want that-”

She breaths in slowly and tilts her head at him, “I wanted my Matty. Phoebe told me I asked for you, when I was out of it. Said I asked her to go get you for me.”

He looks down, staring at the heart shaped hole he’s ripped into the dining table cloth. “I was terrified of doing it without you. What were you scared of?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Matty, please-”

“Did you tell me that just to try and get me to open up?”

“Trade you.” She shrugs and leans over to steal a chip.

He sighs, “When Gemma broke up with me she told me some harsh truths, one’s that I needed to hear and I don’t know. I guess I just know deep down that she’s right. I don’t want to ruin you.”

She tilts her head, reaching across the table to set her hand on his, “You won’t ruin me, Matty.”

“I will. Cause you’re you, you’re a good person, Tommie. I don’t want to ruin you.’

“Matt-“

He shakes his head and stands, “I have to go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Matt-“

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

She looks around the mess in the studio. Now that he’s gone, that he’s back on his way to the rest of the band she can let herself go nuts and clean it.

She starts by cleaning up the takeaway boxes from the floor, then she folds the blankets and cleans the messy table.

Half way through cleaning up she finds the discarded memory stick he’d tossed aside. There’s a post it note wrapped around being held there with cellotape.

‘Baby, two.’

She lifts up the memory stick and then slowly puts it into the computer. 

There's a small sniffle and then a sighs as he strums a few chords. "Baby, two. Um..." He sighs again and shifts around, the leather chair creaks but is cut off as he clears his throat, "This is my deepest confession, I guess. This is for Tommie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about a lot, that it took me so long to realise and that when I finally did I'd already pushed her out. But, I don't want to hurt her, I don't want to let her back in-" He sighs again, "Anyway, this is take one. Baby, I don't have a title yet."

I've been watching you walk I've been learning the way that you talk The back of your head is at the front of my mind Soon I'll crack it open just to see what's inside your mind … Inside your mind

Marry me, I will wait until you're fast asleep Dreaming things I have the right to see Lately you are dreaming you're in love with me The only option left, is look and see inside your mind

… Inside your mind I can show you the photographs Of you getting on with life I've had dreams where there's blood on you All of those dreams where you're my wife

Inside your mind Inside your mind Inside your mind Inside your mind

She raises her brow at the deep voice but sits there to take it for a few moments taking it in.

Every moment between her and Matty has ever shared floats through her head. From meeting to starting the band, to being on tour, to living together, to that night in LA, to watching him leave yesterday.

She thinks over every decision she’s ever made.

Being with Caleb, never telling Matty.

Maybe if she just told him, if she’d let him know how she really felt none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have turned to drugs, he’d be safe.

Or maybe he still would have. And they’d be unhappy. Together but unhappy. And they’d hate each other.

They must be good. She wonders. The drugs, there must be something about them. Why else would he love them so much? More than her, more than the band.

Before she can stop herself she’s sitting on the floor, eyes not moving from the baggie on the table as her fingers drum right beside it.

She just wants one look. One look inside Matty Healy’s mind.

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro, @beatr2x, @byyourside28

-let me know if you want to be added :)

[nightwu]

"Pain Varian Au"

Ya se, ya se, hago demasiado AU... Como sea

Sinopsis:

Rapunzel a tenido que usar las rocas negras, un recurso que jamás pensó que tendría que usar ya que les temía.

Ella a logrado vencer al alquimista en el Robot gigante pero lo que nunca espero fue el hecho de que este ya no esté con vida debido a que fue atravesado por las rocas negras. Pudo verlo ahí, lleno de sangre, un cuerpo totalmente muerto.

Pasaron los días y la caravana sale del reino para así encontrar el destino de Rapunzel la cual la sigue comiendo la culpa y Arrepentimiento.

Una noche la chica Rubia dibujaba un paisaje en busca de distraerse, piensa que las cosas no pueden empeorar estos sentimientos... Pobresita.

Ella cayó hacia atrás al ver una figura de estatura baja con el cabello negro con los ojos cubiertos por el mismo.

El estaba ahí... El estaba ahí de pie mirándola fijamente, el está lleno de sangre pero no había heridas visibles... El estaba ahí con una expresión indescifrable.

Varian...

___________________________

Synopsis:

Rapunzel has had to use the black rocks, a resource that she never thought she would have to use because she was afraid of them.

She has managed to defeat the alchemist in the giant Robot but what she never expected was the fact that he is no longer alive because he was pierced by the black rocks. She could see him there, covered in blood, a totally dead body.

Days passed and the caravan left the kingdom to find Rapunzel's destiny, which continues to be consumed by guilt and regret.

One night the blonde girl was drawing a landscape in search of distraction, she thinks that things cannot get worse with these feelings... Poor thing.

She fell back when she saw a short figure with black hair with his eyes covered by it.

He was there... He was standing there staring at her, he was covered in blood but there were no visible wounds... He was there with an indecipherable expression.

Varian...

Translation of the drawing:

Take your responsibility by helping my father and explaining to him what you did to me.

[justforbooks]

The American No by Rupert Everett

Ideas pitched by the actor down the years that never got the green light are brilliantly recast here as wry short stories… and a script

Not so long ago, Rupert Everett was sitting outside Bar Italia in Frith Street in Soho when the conga line of Hare Krishnas that frequents this part of London appeared from around a corner, jingling their bells like “transcendental morris dancers”. In days gone by, Everett would sometimes recognise a face en route to nirvana: “club world crashes” of his acquaintance often repaired to the Krishnas’ cafeteria, the better, as he puts it, to swap their methamphetamine for cucumber raita. But on this afternoon, he saw no one familiar until, just as the line was about to disappear again, he suddenly caught sight of a producer he’d last seen at the London office of a Hollywood studio.

“Rupert!” exclaimed this man, tambourine in hand. And then: “Hare, hare, hare!” – words that could hardly have been more doleful in context. The fellow in question, a straight white guy of a certain age, had been fired by the studio and, at a complete loss as to what to do next, had duly taken his place in this apricot-tinged, dhoti-wearing human caravan, eager to help broadcast its message of peace, love and saag aloo. Briefly, the two of them talked of a script of Everett’s – it had been rejected by the same studio – and then the line moved off again, until it was only a “swaying smudge” heading towards Chinatown.

Everett’s account of this encounter appears at the beginning of his new book, and it’s full of kindness, even tenderness (“off he ran, backpack bouncing, tiny ankles in large trainers…”). At this point, you realise, his feeling for failure is a writerly gift, throwing a navy shadow over even his funniest and most scabrous lines, with the result that the reader may not know whether to laugh or to cry. But then, as anyone who has read his three memoirs will know, he’s hardly a stranger to disappointment, its cruelty as familiar to the actor and director by now as wig glue and first-night nerves.

He had the idea for his new book in the long moments after the Hare Krishnas passed by. Feeling somewhat on the scrapheap himself, it occurred to him that he might as well turn a few of the ideas he’d pitched down the years – ideas that never got the green light – into short stories. But what is an “American no”? The collection is named after a term, invented by a pal, for the emotionally evasive but nonetheless brutal way Hollywood types have with those who are in search of a commission. In the flesh, they love-bomb you, telling you how “psyched” they are. Once you’re safely elsewhere, however, you’ll never hear from them again – the American no. As titles go, it’s quite perfect. An uncanny bleakness rises from this book, one that brings to mind not only Scott Fitzgerald and Shirley Conran’s Lace, but also the empty, agonising feeling of having been ghosted by a guy you really liked.

It comprises seven stories and a script (the last of which, extraordinarily, is for a TV series based on Proust’s In Search of Lost Time). One has to do with a Paris funeral gone badly wrong, another with a Russian countess, a third with the deathbed confession of a woman who upped and left for India in the 1850s. But the crazed masterpiece of the collection is a long story – almost a novella – called Cuddles and Associates, about a group of struggling actors in 80s Hollywood and what they’ll do (anything!) to survive. If Netflix doesn’t turn it into six episodes, there’s no justice. Think Succession, only with agents and the threat of straight-to-video hanging over everything like LA smog.

In the end, though, I didn’t read The American No for these stories so much as for the bursts of pure Everett, revealed as he introduces each one. Here he is talking to John Schlesinger about what went on in a certain hotel room during the filming of Midnight Cowboy (“I was in heaven”); and here he is fighting for the rights to Graham Greene’s Travels With My Aunt (“each time I inquire of the hard-headed agent I get the same rebuff, while she distributes Greene’s work with abandon for interesting reinterpretations – I’m being polite – like Brighton Rock”).

My love for Everett’s books is hardly a secret. But still, let me say it again. He is a brilliant writer: opulently gossipy as few are these days, but also truthful, witty, wise and stoical. As soon as I have an opportunity, I’ll be quoting him on why older actors “always” overact, but for now, all I can say is that he’s wasted on those fools who turn him down for parts; who fail to return his calls or to read his scripts. If his talent is unwieldy, there’s also tons of it going spare.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[gabriellerudessa]

Compass (Norm Maclean x OC) - Part XXXIII

"He let out a breath and swallowed. More than when in the old LA region, he had seen the signs of people, civilization, as they walked through the road, had seen Filly, and Norm had thought he had an idea of what he was about to see in The Hub.

He had been so wrong.

Filly and his imagination didn’t even scratch the surface of what he was seeing. He had known for weeks already that Reclamation Day and everything associated was lie, but the sight in front of him just solidified it in a way that was hard to overcome.

How exactly Vault-Tec intended to deal with those, bring civilization? It wasn’t something in short supply. It wasn’t exactly peaceful or easy, he admitted, but it was civilization."

AO3 | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI (Smut) | Part XXII | Part XXIII | Part XXIV | Part XXV | Part XXVI (Smut) | Part XXVII | Part XXVIII | Part XXIX | Part XXX | Part XXXI | Part XXXII | Part XXXIV | Part XXXV | Part XXXVI (END)

PLAYLIST ON YOUTUBE

Word Count: 4.379

Warning: None I think

XXXIII

The next few days were more of a blur, filled with walking along the Long 15, crossing ruins and settlements and speeding past caravans and merchants going back and forth, with radstorm clouds moving in the horizon, generally above the road and seeming to move towards the Mojave or generally north.

There were enough settlements that they managed to spend all nights in closed doors. First they lurked and asked well-aimed questions, enough to confirm that Lucy and The Ghoul had passed through, the dog following them. They would also get news about the radstorms, which had plagued the Long 15 in the previous weeks, and it all was enough to conclude that they were being delayed by those, the answers putting them passing through “a week and a half ago”, instead of two weeks.

Marigold wondered if Andrea had made some special petition to Atom too, so the radstorms would cause enough trouble that Lucy’s travel would be delayed.

And then, after all that, they would pay for a room for the night – and Norm would trade for some flora-based ingredients. None of the rooms were as well cared as the one in the crossroads, but it was enough that they had a night of safe privacy.

It was almost weird, because while Marigold was totally down to have sex with Norm again, and those nights would be ideal for it… The reassurance that they loved each other and weren’t on a countdown anymore made her lazy in her affections, more focused on just cuddling with him and talking, discovering more about each other – she was still a little shocked that he was five years younger than her –, hearing him read for her. Some moments she messed up his hair or left small hickeys in the strip of skin not covered by his suit’s collar. Others, Norm would sink his hands under her clothes and pull her close by her waist and hips, the warmth against naked skin more comforting then arousing.

And, usually when she was almost asleep, he whispered “I love you” against her ear. It made her smile so big her cheeks hurt, kissing him and whispering the same against his lips.

---------

The third night after the crossroads they noticed their supplies of healing powder were getting low as they went to verify Norm’s leg. They both sighed, all thoughts of a lazy night away as Norm started piling up Broc flowers and Xander roots, collected and traded alike, and she took her bowls.

Norm started on the Broc flowers in one bowl, while she minced the Xander roots in the other, humming, missing the radio from the crossroads. Their thighs kept in contact as they worked, but it was overall silent and comfortable.

“Hey, love, can you get my canteen, please?” Norm’s hand was extended, the other still using the fork’s handle to macerate the flowers.

Marigold automatically stretched to reach his sidebag, and just as she caught the canteen her brain processed the “love”, and she stopped, blinking, warmth rising along her neck, heart stuttering for one moment.

Love. Sure, he had been saying he did love her, but that absentminded reminder was sweet.

Norm’s head was turning to her when Marigold unfroze, kissing his lips firmly, her smile so big she felt ridiculous, carefully landing the canteen in his hand.

“Here it is, my beloved.” She whispered against him.

Norm blinked at her, cheeks suddenly so red she got worried for one moment.

“Another pet name?”

“Fair trade, you just called me ‘love’.” She grinned and somehow he got redder. Cute.

“Really?”

She nodded, pecking his lips.

“Oh.” His mouth opened and closed and opened again. “Why ‘my’? Not complaining, but I thought I was the jealous one.” Norm managed a grin, some playful sarcasm in his voice.

Marigold’s grin melted into a smaller smile, free hand cupping his cheek. It wasn’t something she really thought through, but after some seconds she had some answer..

“Can’t say with certainty. I guess it’s because you’re mine to protect, keep alive, love.” She shrugged slowly.

He smiled back, gentle, and kissed her, long, firm and sweet, before returning to making the healing powder. She would never tire of those.

---------

During the afternoon of the fifth day after leaving the crossroads, they saw the first signs of the city: farms that started dotting the sides of the road with armed guards, the Long 15 slowly becoming more crowded, the merchants and caravans unable to walk as fast as before. And then they reached The Hub proper, and Norm blinked, eyes going back and forth on the old pre-war buildings and newer ones, made of metal and concrete and wood and looking beat up by the weather. Ratty flags flew in the wind and the entrance was bustling with activity, people, ghouls and Brahmins walking around, trying to get into the city.

He let out a breath and swallowed. More than when in the old LA region, he had seen the signs of people, civilization, as they walked through the road, had seen Filly, and Norm had thought he had an idea of what he was about to see in The Hub.

He had been so wrong.

Filly and his imagination didn’t even scratch the surface of what he was seeing. He had known for weeks already that Reclamation Day and everything associated was lie, but the sight in front of him just solidified it in a way that was hard to overcome.

How exactly Vault-Tec intended to deal with those, bring civilization? It wasn’t something in short supply. It wasn’t exactly peaceful or easy, he admitted, but it was civilization.

“That’s how Shady Sands was?”

“I… I really don’t know, Norm-boy. Never visited it before it was blown out.” Marigold answered quietly, and he squeezed her hand.

“When Andrea described… I didn’t imagine it like this.”

“Yeah… She definitely fails in making it sound as busy. Did she tell anything more specific about here, beyond ‘busy and don’t get lost’?”

“Actually, yes. A place called Salty Men, where we can pass the night.” He squeezed her hand again and looked up at Marigold. There was faint recognition in her face, but nothing deep. “It’s also on the Long 15, on the other side of the city from what Andrea said, so maybe it’s a good bet to ask about Lucy there too.”

“Then let’s go.”

---------

Their progress through the road was slow, the sun dipping in the sky, but they managed to keep to the Long 15, her size and posture making common people open the path, the armed guards ambling about nodding at her with something akin to respect, even if they kept a wary eye on them. Even in such a busy place few people were as tall or muscled, at least from what they saw.

Norm pulled on her hand and pointed to a concrete and wood building to the side, tall and well-put together, a well-made metal plaque above the door with something written that she didn’t bother with trying to read. People went in and left the place, most looking like traders of some type.

“There, Salty Men.” They started towards the building, steps fast. “The owners are Gustav and Nicholas. Andrea said they’re trustful.”

“Oh, those names I remember. Ed always complains that playing caravan against either of them is a nightmare.”

“Caravan?”

“A card game. Ed tried to teach me a bunch of times but I never really got it.” She shrugged and then Norm was pushing the door open.

The saloon was big and open, tables with chairs spread around the sides and leaving the middle free, a long bar counter in the back with stairs leading up beside it. To the left wall, a wooden target that a group of people took turns throwing darts and shooting with a BB-Gun and a cross-bow. Against the right wall, a small platform. A small three-people band was above it, a woman singing and playing a guitar, another sitting at an old piano, and a man on a small set of drums, their music jaunty, lively, even if a bit out of tune.

The place was bustling with people, sitting down at the tables and counter with bottles and glasses, playing cards, dancing in the middle of the floor. She also noticed that some of the men and women were probably the local whores, prowling amidst the dancing people.

Marigold felt a bittersweet pang. The bar in Filly usually had someone singing and playing the guitar – it was the easiest instrument to fabricate and learn in the Wasteland, followed by flutes –, it could get just as busy, and it was where the whores most liked to prowl. She wondered if the Brotherhood intended to end with it. She hoped not.

A look at Norm showed he was grinning and shaking his head slightly.

“What?”

“The parties in the Vault were never this lively.”

Marigold laughed and squeezed his hand, guiding their path towards the counter without getting into the middle of dancing people – even if her feet itched to get into it, the rhythm easy to follow –, sidestepping the group around the target.

“And this isn’t even a party, Norm-boy.” She managed, even as an idea popped on her mind as they passed the group arguing results and the target full of holes.

He laughed too, and then they were leaning against the counter, Norm pulling himself on one of the benches. She threw a last look at the target.

A man with a stained apron and an easy, gap-toothed smile, immediately approached.

“What you’ll have?”

“Clean water, two bottles.” She immediately said; she still regretted the time she had lost that night in the crossroads because she wasn’t twenty anymore and alcohol made her sleepy fast.

Besides, she wanted to be in total control of herself if her idea worked.

“On it. Anything else? My dad makes some mean molerat meatballs with tato sauce.”

Ooooh, that sounded good.

“That too, for two.” Norm answered for them, squeezing her hand. He clearly had gotten good at reading her face. “And talk with Nicholas and Gustav, if possible?”

“I’m Nicholas, Gustav’s my father. Who’s asking?”

“Marigold Bear and Norm Maclean.”

Nicholas snapped his fingers and pointed at her before Norm said anything else.

“One of Ed’s sisters. The frightening one. You fit the description.” Frightening? What Ed had been telling his friends? “One second. Daniel!” He called into the floor, and one of the waiters approached. “Ed’s usual room is free?”

“The Ed husband to Andrea and Willow, that Ed?” Nicholas nodded and Daniel looked at her and Norm. “Yes. I’ll get it ready.”

“Thanks.” Nicholas smiled at them, rubbing his hands. “Anyway, what do you need to talk about?”

Norm sighed and set his shoulders.

“We’re following my sister’s trail. Just need to confirm she passed through here and continued along the Long 15. Andrea said you’re trustful.”

“Andrea has the sweetest tongue. That’s easy enough. What’s your sister’s name, appearance…?”

“Lucy Maclean, long dark hair, around this height. Last we know she was travelling with The Ghoul and-”

“- and a dog called Dogmeat.” That was new information, everyone else had only said “dog”. “They slept here, just a week ago. Had to leave later in the day because of a radstorm, the two of you are lucky they’re moving away. Your sister seemed very taken and surprised with the city and was very nice to the whores.”

Norm sighed and Marigold recognized it as relief. She squeezed his hand and kissed his hair.

“Many thanks, Nicholas.”

Daniel approached and handed her a key before Nicholas could say anything, a wooden keychain with the number.

“The room is ready.”

“Thanks. Hey, Norm-boy, why don’t you settle our tab while I take our things upstairs?” He nodded and she took his bags, a kiss on his temple. He whispered the number on the key for her before she walked away.

---------

Nicholas used the moment to scream in the kitchen about their food and get two bottles of water before returning.

“I was pretty sure Ed said that Marigold was one of the single sisters.” He commented as Norm counted the caps for everything – water, food, room.

“It’s very recent.” He answered, dropping the amount in Nicholas extended hand.

The money disappeared and then Nicholas was grinning and waggling his eyebrows suggestively; it was enough for Norm to feel warmth rising through his neck. For God’s sake.

“Atta boy. Your game must be strong, Ed always made her sound fucking terrifying, carrying radstag carcasses as if they weight nothing, skinning things in half the usual time, strangling raiders…” Nicholas shivered. “Actually I think he downplayed her size.”

Norm blinked and grinned, a weird sense of proudness at the way he had described Marigold, and leaned towards Nicholas, elbows on the counter.

“Wait… Are you afraid of her?”

Nicholas spluttered and grinned.

“I call it healthy respect. Fear I have of Willow’s Root-Curses.”

“Wait until Marigold sneaks on you without a sound.” Norm raised a proud eyebrow and Nicholas blinked at him.

“She can do that? With how big she is?!” Norm shrugged, still grinning. “Fuck. You have steel balls and your woman if even more of a badass than I had thought.”

Norm dry-swallowed, his heart hammering as his brain tried to process the fact that Nicholas had called Marigold his woman. Sure, they hadn’t put any label on it yet, but damn, why his brain and his body had to act like that at simple words?

Nicholas’ eyes moved to the side and he grinned, reaching out to tap his shoulder.

“You’re in trouble. Good luck.” And then he was leaving, just the bottles of water behind.

Norm blinked at his retreating back, more confused yet. He started to look back, wondering what had attracted the man’s attention…

His eyes immediately landed on Marigold, walking towards his place, and his brain fizzled like TV static. The red skirt swished around her legs, a glimpse of her knees between the hem and her boots, and sure, he would’ve preferred pants showing her thighs and butt, but it was the upper torso that stole his attention: a formal shirt, deep crimson with silver buttons, form fitting, her waist and hips so visible his fingers itched to hold. The main attraction were the sleeves, long, billowy, sheer enough that he could see the outline of her thick arms.

Marigold got one of the water bottles, opened it and leaned her back against the counter, the elbow of the arm closest to him on it, giving him a perfect view of how her muscles flexed, scars and all, and how her torso arched slightly, the outline of her nipples becoming visible – fuck. His mouth watered and he swallowed, arousal a forest fire down his body, and Norm was sure that, if Marigold hadn’t gotten before how much he enjoyed her strength, she had gotten it at that moment.

Norm forced himself to look back at her face, noticing the remade braid neatly over her shoulder, and Marigold gave him the extra trouble cheeky grin, lipstick freshly reapplied, before taking a sip of the water.

Nicholas words bubbled to the surface. His woman. Damn it, but he was tempted to use those words aloud.

“I-” His voice failed and he cleaned his throat, hearing a snicker somewhere behind him. He bet it was Nicholas nosing around. “I don’t remember this shirt from what Willow separated for you.”

“Birthday gift from Ed.”

“Oh.” There was no way Ed knew how he would react. Probably had just decided on something that would look amazing on his sister. “I thought there were still some months.” He managed belatedly.

“He decided on anticipating, with me travelling with you and so on.” She capped back the bottle. “I’ll dance a little, while the food doesn’t arrive. Unless you really want my company righty now…?”

A natural smile appeared on his face and he caught her hand, squeezing it.

“I think I can deal with some time alone. Go have some fun.”

Marigold’s grin became a genuine smile and she leaned in, pecking his lips and sauntering away.

Norm followed her with his eyes, the arousal along his body cooling some; she easily towered over most people in the room, attracting looks a bunch of people around. His stomach churned, the feeling heavy, and his hand itched to reach for the knife in his boot. Damned jealousy. Damn reaction to Nicholas’ words.

Then she started dancing, in a place not as full, easy for him to see her. She twirled and tapped her feet and moved alongside the rhythm with an ease that filled the eyes and made him sigh and forget the others looking. He got more comfortable in the bench and leaned his back against the counter, holding the bottles, small smile on his face.

Dancing Marigold got, and damn well indeed. He was happy to watch her, drink in her energy, noticing all the moments she looked at him, grinning and winking and blowing kisses. Happy to have him watch, not trying to talk him into dancing with her.

Norm was happy that she remembered he disliked dancing. Besides, he didn’t have the barest idea of how to dance like that. It was enough to watch her.

Someone crossed in front of him, a large hat hanging around their back and sat on the bench beside him with a heavy sight. Norm threw a look without turning his head, enough to recognize a ghoul, no nose, skin heavily scarred and missing from some places… With the signs of a thin moustache above the lips. They had passed some on the road, but the words had remained just the common cordial ones when necessary, some distance between them. It was still weird to see one so close and not feral, so unlike the day Nip-Nip had captured them.

“Any problem, chico?” A grave masculine voice, not raspy as the others he had briefly met.

“No, sorry.” He looked back towards Marigold, resisting the will of shrinking his shoulders as he felt the man watch him.

“Ah, a Vaultie.” Norm looked down at his Pip-Boy, sighed and nodded, turning slightly his head. The ghoul still watched him, the cataract covered eyes neutral. “Never saw a ghoul before?”

“Not many. Sorry again.”

“Nah, it’s fine. You’re just curious, I get.” The man turned on the bench, watching the room, and Norm caught Marigold’s eyes.

She still danced, but raised an eyebrow at him. He shook his head – everything’s fine, allow me to keep drinking in your happiness – and she threw herself back into it all.

“The one in red with a skirt, that’s your woman?”

That again.

“We… We haven’t, like…” his heart was hammering again and he felt like a fool for stuttering and for the warmth along his neck and cheeks, as if they hadn’t had sex and admitted they loved each other and called each other “love” and “my beloved” when they least expected. Damn it, Norm. The ghoul chuckled lowly.

“Not official yet?” Norm shook his head and the ghoul chuckled again.

There was a moment of silence between them and Marigold captured his eyes, winked and blew him a kiss; the warmth in his cheeks worsened, now that he knew the ghoul was watching it all.

“This old pre-war ghoul has a council, chico.”

“Pre-war? You don’t look a day over hundred.” Norm tested the waters, head turning slightly, and the man laughed.

“Good, chico, good.” He fixed himself, back against the counter, eyes on the throng of people dancing with a slight smile in his thin, burned out and scarred lips. Norm did the same, eyes on Marigold, arms locked with a redheaded woman as the two twirled fast along the song. “Don’t take too long to make it official if you really like each other, even if only between yourselves. And with the way she’s looking at you, she’s head over heels. And you-”

“Swept off my feet. That’s what she said she was trying to do.” He gave a small smile and the ghoul laughed once more.

In the floor, Marigold and the redhead did a complicated choreography of claps and throwing legs and twists and other movements he didn’t know how to describe that fit perfectly with the rhythm of the music.

Where she had learned to dance like that?

“It seems she was successful.”

“Absolutely.”

The ghoul laughed some more, then it died into a sigh.

“Grab what you love and keep it close, chico. This Wasteland’s too fond of taking things away.”

Norm blinked at Marigold, the song changing and her and the redheaded changing paths. She smiled at him and blew a kiss before starting moving again.

“Thank you.”

“Happy to help.” The ghoul got up. “Now I better-”

“It’s your turn.” A woman appeared out of nowhere, in a pretty flowing dress, big smile deepening some of the wrinkles starting to appear in her face, locking her arm with the ghoul’s.

“Oh, c’mon, the sun is setting-” She started dragging the ghoul and Norm watched. The ghoul didn’t resist too much.

“Everyone participates, you know Anya.”

“The Boss always forgets my knees hurt after sunset.” The ghoul complained, a grin on his face. He noticed Norm watching and winked. So fake complaining.

They ended amidst the group using the target, and it was clear the camaraderie between them. Old friends, something family-like in how they pushed and pulled each other.

He looked back at Marigold, still spinning, not seeming half as tired as he would imagine. That wasn’t “liking a bit”, that was loving it, and he smiled, shoulders relaxing.

“Grab what you love and keep it close”, it repeated in his mind, and he let out a trembling breath. It put into perspective their discussion about “people just decide they’re married and that’s it”.

His woman. Two strangers had said it. He wondered if people talking with Marigold would call him “her man”, and his heart hammered inside his chest.

Not a chore. Not for the Vault, for a community in which he never quite fit…

For them, for how she had feared she was dreaming when he first said “I love you” back, for how damn happy he had been at hearing it, for how they kept each other alive and for their sheer, mutual fear of losing each other. For how “love” and “my beloved” had slipped so easily in their day-to-day.

It was obvious, put it like that.

He was an idiot for not getting it earlier.

“Here’s your food… Norm, right?” Nicholas called and Norm looked above his shoulder, two plates of food on the counter.

“Right. Thank you, Nicholas.”

Marigold touched his shoulder, and Norm saw the beads of sweat on her temples and dripping down her neck, breasts briefly stretching the fabric as she panted. Her smile remained and Norm resisted the temptation of leaning in and kissing her neck, tasting the salt on her skin.

“The bottle, please?” He gave her the one she had already opened, and she sat down, draining it. “Thanks. Thanks too, Nicholas.”

---------

They ate sitting by the counter, her leg touching his under it, talking with Nicholas – he was both curious and worried about Willow’s pregnancy, wanting to verify she had arrived well in the Boneyard. Half of Norm’s mind was on the half formed decision, still unsure of how to broach the subject.

Norm was finishing his plate when Marigold leaned a bit more over the counter.

“Hey, Nicholas, what’s the rules about the target?”

Target…?

Oh, where the ghoul and his friends were shooting with darts, cross-bow and BB-gun.

“Eh, not much. You just pay the ammo.”

She couldn’t mean to…

“Good. Twenty BB-pellets.”

He heard caps hitting the counter and started to turn his head… Then she was holding his chin, keeping his head in place, and Norm felt her lips graze his ear.

“Not exactly the private show I was hoping for, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it, my dearest.” A shiver along his back with her whisper, and a persistent kiss against his cheek. The earlier arousal returned with a vengeance, burning a path down his stomach, his neck and cheeks hot.

Marigold started to retreat and he grabbed at her hand and braid, searching her eyes.

“Marigold…” He didn’t know what to say, what to think, his brain swerving violently from his previous thoughts.

She met his eyes, the grin and flirting melting into worry.

“Norm-boy? I’m sorry, this… You’re uncomfortable with it? Then forget-”

“Wait.” He cut her, fingers flexing in her hair, and she just watched him.

Was he uncomfortable, with seeing her shooting in a room full of people, knowing how it affected him? No. Not exactly, at least. Was he terrified of something embarrassing happening before they could reach their room? Absolutely. Was he confused because he had been trying to think of how to ask her that he wanted them to be something official? So damn much.

He blinked, eyes again on her shirt. Norm could picture in his mind, how she would look shooting with it, the flexing muscles of her arms visible, together with her focus and ability… The pang of arousal down his body was almost painful and he was glad by the coat, otherwise his half-erection would be noticeable.

Marigold had thought that through. She wanted to do that, knew it was something he liked. “Grab what you love and keep it close”, that was definitely one way of her doing it.

Yeah, it wasn’t private, but they were in a safe-ish, controlled place, where she wasn’t shooting at things that could kill them. He absolutely understood her reasoning.

Norm swallowed, pulling her for a fast, hard kiss.

“Go there and show them how it’s done, Beautiful.” He mumbled against Marigold’s lips and she grinned, teasing him with a nip before retreating.

His hands let her go and she walked towards the group using the target, a small box of ammo on one hand, steps firms, sure, and he swallowed.

[lepartidelamort]

Le régime rend obligatoire le dépistage de la drépanocytose pour les nouveau-nés blancs.

Le régime a décidé de casser le thermomètre du remplacement racial.

Cette décision n’a aucun sens médical puisque les nouveaux-nés européens – les Blancs donc – ne sont pas affectés par cette maladie.

Vidal :

La drépanocytose touche essentiellement les personnes qui ont des origines africaines, antillaises, maghrébines, moyen-orientales ou indiennes. Les personnes issus de certains pays méditerranéens (Grèce, Sicile) sont également concernés par cette maladie, quoique moins fréquemment.

On l’ignore trop, mais la Sicile et la Grèce ont eu le déplaisir de tomber aux mains des violeurs afro-musulmans.

La Sicile a été occupée pendant 250 ans par les racailles avant d’être délivrée par quelques dizaines de Nazis originaires de Normandie dirigés par Roger de Hauteville, un redoutable skinhead d’origine viking.

Si vous connaissez Coutances, les fascistes ont installé une statue à sa gloire sur la cathédrale.

En Grèce, le pays a croulé sous les vendeurs de kebabs pendant 400 ans avant d’être libérée par une coalition de suprémacistes blancs composés de Russes, de Français et d’Anglais.

Hélas, les violeurs d’Anatolie étant ce qu’ils sont, si l’administration turque a déguerpi sans demander son reste, il en va différemment de la génétique qu’elle avait emmené dans ses caravanes.

Pour en revenir à ce dépistage, cela fait des années que le régime tremble devant la légitime utilisation des résultats par les médias qui s’opposent au remplacement de population.

Évidemment, d’après le système, c’était du « délire ».

Cette décision, dix ans plus tard, démontre que ce n’était pas si délirant. Le système préfère dépister inutilement les nouveaux-nés blancs plutôt que de laisser ces chiffres officiels circuler. Après tout, les statistiques ethniques ne sont pas interdites pour rien en France.

Nous n’aurons plus de belles cartes de cette politique effrayante poursuivie en secret par le système.

Nous vous proposons donc les derniers chiffres, ceux de 2022. Le total des nouveau-nés dépistés en France s’élève à 47,2%.

Il était de 45,8% en 2021 :

En 2015, sur la base des chiffres disponibles, l’institut Polémia avait proposé une anticipation. Il prévoyait 46% de naissances non-blanches en 2021 et 50% en 2024.

Nous étions un petit plus conservateurs et proposions plutôt 2027 comme année de bascule théorique, à raison d’une augmentation moyenne de 1% par an.

Certains sceptiques déclarent que dans diverses maternités les dépistages sont systématiques. Cela peut arriver, mais, comme on le constate, cela ne peut expliquer les disparités entre les régions sur une même année. En 2022, la Bretagne affiche par exemple un taux de 14,6% contre 36,2% dans le « Grand Est ».

Cela n’explique pas davantage l’augmentation marginale, mais régulière, de ce dépistage d’une année sur l’autre. Ainsi la Nouvelle Aquitaine passe de 19,5% de nouveaux-nés dépistés en 2021 à 21,4% en 2022.

Enfin, cela n’explique pas davantage l’explosion générale constatée sur les 20 dernières années. La Bretagne est ainsi passée d’un taux de dépistage de 3,47% en 2005 à 14,6% 19 ans plus tard.

Les cas de dépistages systématiques peuvent sporadiquement se retrouver dans les villes où le remplacement racial est si avancé que les maternités s’y embarrassent de moins en moins à distinguer la petite minorité de naissances blanches de l’énorme cohorte marron. Le personnel médical allogène doit d’ailleurs pester en interne contre ce qu’il doit percevoir comme un « privilège » accordé aux gwers maudits.

Peu importe ce point de détail, le tableau général demeure et il est laid, laid comme le faciès d’un groïde fraîchement déféqué par sa négresse de mère.

Sauf bouleversement imprévu, en atténuant les projections de Polémia, on peut estimer, avec une relative assurance, que d’ici à 2030 la moitié de la natalité en France sera non-blanche.

D’ici à 2045, ce sera les deux tiers.

Comme souvent évoqué dans notre média, la disparition progressive des boomers d’ici la décennie 2030-2040 va brutalement assombrir les rues. Les villes françaises de plus de 50,000 habitants seront quasiment toutes à majorité non-blanche.

Nous projetons une France à majorité non-blanche d’ici les années 2050-2060, c’est-à-dire d’ici 30 ans. Mais ce n’est là qu’une projection globale.

Géographiquement ou générationnellement, le basculement aura partiellement lieu avant.

Précisons aussi que si la ventilation des Afro-musulmans est la politique de l’État depuis Manuel Valls, la densité reste un facteur important. Tous les points rouges de cette carte seront des zones à minorité blanche bien avant 2060. Les zones bleues seront relativement moins touchées par le remplacement racial.

Ici, nous défendons le principe du séparatisme ethno-territorial, un véritable blasphème dans un pays façonné par deux siècles d’unitarisme jacobin.

Cette idée, quoique loufoque pour 99% des Français en 2024, deviendra une évidence d’ici 20 ans, au plus tard.

Une part croissante des Blancs ne voudra pas vivre à proximité des quelques 30 millions d’allogènes galvanisés par l’islam et dévorés par la soif de revanche raciale que leur avant-garde exprime déjà partout dans les médias.

Le racket fiscal au profit des masses parasitaires à peau sombre induit par le maintien d’un état unique poussera de plus en plus de Blancs à vouloir mettre un terme à l’expérience, directement ou indirectement.

Notre proposition d’un ou plusieurs états blancs est non seulement souhaitable, inéluctable, mais réalisable. Une comparaison avec l’état israélien en donne une idée.

Si un tel état factice peut exister au milieu d’un océan islamique, il n’y a pas de raison pour qu’un état blanc existe sur le territoire de la France actuelle.

Bien sûr, par principe, il faudrait expulser tous les allogènes, de gré ou de force. C’est d’autant plus souhaitable que c’est d’une grande facilité, mais à une condition : la volonté.

Concentrés dans toutes les villes de France, majoritaires dans un certain nombre de départements, voire de régions, une entreprise de reconquête territoriale généralisée nécessiterait en premier lieu une base étatique racialement homogène et racialement et politiquement consciente, instrument d’une force blanche déterminée à reconquérir et nettoyer l’ensemble du territoire français.

Le premier obstacle est la masse de traîtres blancs qui, pour diverses raisons, entend se ménager une cohabitation avec les allogènes. Ils sont l’ennemi prioritaire. Ce n’est pas cette république, fût-elle aux mains d’un parti de droite anti-immigration, qui pourrait le faire. Il est illusoire d’imaginer que l’État français, déjà très affaibli, puisse maintenir son unité politique et administrative sous l’effet du remplacement de population et de l’inévitable résistance autochtone qu’il nourrit par contrecoup avec en plus une bourgeoisie acquise à la capitulation.

La paralysie du système démocratique est déjà manifeste, avec la formation à l’assemblée « nationale » de blocs politiques implicitement raciaux qui n’ont aucune possibilité de compromis, mais mutuellement paralysés grâce au jeu de bascule de la bourgeoisie logée au centre.

Cela implique rien de moins qu’une révolution ethno-séparatiste sur des bases idéologiques nouvelles. Du noyau étatique ainsi formé, se réaffirmerait progressivement l’autorité blanche sur l’ancienne France. Cela prendrait du temps, mais avec une volonté et un programme, les moyens technologiques le permettraient à terme.

Tôt ou tard le point de bascule sera atteint et l’État se désagrégera. Il pourra perdurer fictivement sur une carte, mais dans la réalité il sera éclaté en régions ethniques dominées par une majorité ethno-religieuse.

Comme le Liban.

C’est la recomposition ethnique, territoriale, étatique qui fera suite à la défaillance de l’État français actuel qu’il faut d’ores et déjà anticiper. Dans un pays où l’État a créé la nation ex nihilo, les Français n’en prendront pas l’initiative. Il doit d’abord se décomposer dans les faits. Ce n’est que lorsque l’État ne pourra plus endiguer les assauts organisés des structures ethno-criminelles allogènes que ce scénario se matérialisera.

La disparition des boomers jouera un rôle important dans l’accélération de ce processus démographique et politique.

Nous faisons ici un énoncé. Dans la pratique, ce sera le résultat de chocs violents, d’affrontements ouverts et larvés, de soubresauts. Mais cela aura lieu et mieux vaut en avoir conscience dès à présent.

Démocratie Participative

[victorgrwrites]

@amaranthsynthesis I WILL TAKE YOUR OPEN PERMISSION AND RUN WITH IT!

"Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up, then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals!"

You guys get my liked songs playlist. 10,600 songs. I make no guarantees on quality, genre, nothing.

Tengo Que Decirte Algo (feat. José Feliciano), Gloria Estefan

Tengo que decirte algo Que puede lastimar tu corazón Y estoy segura que si te cuento No vas a perdonar mi gran error

Luché contra la tentación Pero solo soy de carne y hueso Me embriagó con su mirada y pequé al final So Gloria Estefan, especially this album and Mi Tierra, is my childhood. Along with a number of other artists, but Gloria Estefan was what my mom and grandma were playing back in the day.

Clash - Jupiter Remix, Caravan Palace

Ah, Caravan Palace. Electroswing, my beloved.

Calico, Fever the Ghost

We spin sides, all these things Bite the fruits, take the ride, clip our wings Man, up all night, avoiding fights Shoot me down in a dream, so I will see

Man, heaven sent and the courage saved curiosity Run and find things that aren't there Calico, descendant of the company Bite your tongue and let it take you there

I don't know what you'd call Fever the Ghost except for trippy electro-rock. Vaguely psychedelic rock. They're really good if that's your vibe!

Daydream In Blue, I Monster

Daydream, I fell asleep amid the flowers For a couple of hours on a beautiful day Daydream, I dream of you amid the flowers For a couple of hours, such a beautiful day I dream a dirty dream of you, baby You're swinging from the chandelier I'm climbing up the walls 'cause I want you But when I reach you, you disappear

I Monster! Electronic group in the vein of Portishead, this is their big hit single. This has actually ended up on a couple of my character playlists.

Grand Canyon, Puscifer

Lost as I may be Oh, in the fog of my own noise and triviality Grand Holy Mother, grant me clarity I am standing on the edge of forever Forever One among infinity Witnessing the majesty Calm in this humility Witnessing the majesty Hope as far as one can see Witnessing the majesty Witnessing the majesty Witnessing the majesty Standing on the edge of forever

Maynard. I would follow that man anywhere, and he'd probably lead my right off the edge of the Grand Canyon for even saying that. If you haven't explored the world of Tool, A Perfect Circle, or Puscifer, I can't recommend them highly enough if you want a whiplash of truly transcendent and irreverent fuck-you songs.

And I will pass along the tag vibes and tag whoever is reading this!

[theoutcastrogue]

La Caravane Passe feat. R. Wan - Zinzin Moretto

You left home, fleeing war or hunger looking for a land to take you in but everywhere you went, they called you "the stranger" I know your burden, I've carried it myself But I changed my skin, took the caravan and became Zinzin Moretto

Zinzin Moretto (king of the chorro) Zinzin Moretto Zinzin Moretto (new desperado) Zinzin Moretto

[french lyrics after the cut]

Tu as quitté ton chez toi fuyant la guerre ou la famine Tu cherchais une terre d'accueil Mais partout on t'appelles "l'étranger" Je comprends ton fardeau, je portais le même Mais j'ai changé de peau J'ai pris la caravane et je suis devenu Zinzin Moretto

Zinzin Moretto (King of the chorro) Zinzin Moretto Zinzin Moretto (new desperado) Zinzin Moretto

On t'as traité de youpin, de rouquin, de bicot, de métèque De benoit, d'espingouin, de negro, de pac-pac De polak, de yougo, de gueshniak ou citron De melon, de gringo, d'esquimau, romano Mais aujourd'hui, tu vas les prendre au mot Dev'nir un vrai desesperado On va te baptiser du plus beau nom d'oiseau Bienvenue chez les Zinzin Moretto

Finit les tanjes, tchang, ritals, rosebiff, chleu Les bokaks, les wedbacks, les bledards, les bouzeux Les blanches neiges, bronzées, pédales, les moakas Les froggies, les raloufs, les pecnos, bamboula (bambolero) Si tu n'es pas à ta place Prends donc la première caravane qui passe À l'ouest, rien de nouveau Change ton western en eastern à la Zinzin Moretto

Ça y est tu fais partit du clan, de la famille La terre peut trembler, tu restes de glace Les chiens aboient et la caravane passe La base du chameau n'atteint pas le noir corbeau Quand tu marches dans la rue, les gens te saluent Ils lèvent leurs chapeaux Car le monde entier respecte ton nouveau pseudo

[homerforsure]

Ahem: 2

Tour Guide!Buck

My beloved ♥️

💗💗💗 I love him so. This maybe got away from me a little bit sorry about that.

Once he glues himself to Buck’s side, Patrick doesn’t seem to have any trouble at all maneuvering the segway (though he still wobbles at every single street corner, making Buck reach out to steady him.) Eddie scowls at him from near the back of their small group, unable to even feel smug about his own superior driving skills when he still feels incredibly silly about even being on a segway in the first place. He reminds himself that he’s not here for history or for the sound of Buck’s laugh. All that matters are street signs, short cuts and landmarks so Eddie focuses his attention on the shapes of the buildings he’s passing by, trying to imagine where he is in relation to home, to the station, and how he might find his way back again on a less embarrassing mode of transportation. 

They pass Staples Center and LA Live, the Convention Center and the Grammy Museum. The big clock in Grand Hope Park helpfully reminds Eddie just how long he’s going to be trapped in his own personal hell and he wonders if Buck would get in trouble if one of his tour guests ditched their segway a quarter of the way through and caught an uber back home. 

Not that it’s Buck’s fault. He’s just as charming as ever, full of enthusiasm and stories and endless patience for what is, Eddie thinks, one of the most irritating groups he’s ever been part of. Patrick, with his giggly faux-clumsiness and obvious flirting, isn’t even the worst of it. His friends pay even less attention to the tour than he does, missing traffic signals, talking loudly about where they’ve been drinking so far and where they’re going to be drinking tonight, weaving through the crowds on the sidewalk instead of keeping to the neat line Buck tries to herd them into. The middle aged couple stuck in the middle of all of it are growing more annoyed as the trip goes on, the husband calling loudly for Buck to repeat himself and both of them muttering about having had much better tours in San Diego.

It’s deliberately loud enough that Buck hears it and, after pointing out the path for Patrick, drops back to ride beside them for a while. 

“Ray! Katherine! Are you guys having a good time?” he asks, his smile bright and inviting. 

Katherine wobbles on her segway as it goes over a bumpy piece of sidewalk and lifts a hand to hold her wide brimmed hat on her head, “I think we’re a little lost.”

“I missed most of what you said back there,” Ray adds. “About the fires at the library.” 

“Would you mind telling us again?” 

“No, no, of course not. I’ll start from the beginning.”

“Buck!” Patrick yelp-laughs from the front of the group. “I think this thing is acting up again.” 

Somehow, Buck manages not to react. He pauses, seeming to Eddie like he’s holding his breath in order to hold off saying any of the things he’s actually thinking, and then Buck sighs and answers, “Just keep it steady, Pat. You’re doing great.” 

“I don’t remember where you said to turn!”

This time Eddie cringes too and tries not to imagine running Patrick off the road and into a bush. He’s just a dumbass kid after all. He’ll be embarrassed about this someday. Hopefully.

“Forget it,” Ray says. “I’ll just google it when we get back to the hotel.” 

“No, don’t do that! We’ll- we’ll stop up here and rearrange everybody. I’ll talk about the arson and we’ll make sure that you don’t miss anything else, okay?”

Exchanging a glance with each other, the couple tartly replies, “Fine.” 

“Awesome. Thank you,” Buck says. 

Before he glides back to the front of their caravan, Buck turns his head to look at Eddie. His mask falters for the first time, revealing stress and irritation and the kind of resignation that comes from realizing that you’re the only cat herder in a room full of cats and no backup is coming. 

A tiny furrow appears between his brows as he asks, “Are you doing alright back here, Eddie?”

And suddenly Eddie is. He can’t not be when Buck is trying so hard and wants all of them to be doing alright. The bad mood drops away, softening the line of his shoulders and his grip on the handlebars, and Eddie nods back, “Don’t worry about me. I’m having a great time.”

[icariebzh]

Il y a nous et les autres 

Il y a les presque nous même  aussi

ils ne font pas partie de la famille

mais -tout de même- ils nous ressemblent, 

puisqu'ils rient de nos blagues connivence, 

puisqu'ils sont complices de nos regards perdus ,

puisqu'ils colèrent contre les mêmes moulins à vent

et parlent la même langue de...

et récupèrent à la sauvette les mêmes solutions, les mêmes explications,

les mêmes applications

Like  ses rolling stones .

Il faut rentrer dans un moule comme on entre en religion

pour se rassurer, pour se retrouver, pour s'imaginer

qu'on pense pareil, qu'on panse pareil ,

qu'on fera un bout de chemin ensemble

juste un bout, car sur la fin ce sera chacun pour soi

chacun dans son fort intérieur avec ses illusions en kaléidoscope.

il y a moi aux abois et toute la caravane passe, puisqu'elle ne peut pas, ne veut pas s'arrêter;

et d'abord pourquoi le ferait-elle?

Elle a aussi sa  fragile couverture  de survie à entretenir.

son ptit tricot maison pour l'hiver

et la tête chercheuse dans le marécage

des sables émouvants 

De profundis...

[the-pan-ace-writings]

Cartel Protection

First Next Last Masterlist AO3

A/n

im not gunna lie guys this one took me way longer than i thought it was going too, so im hoping ill be able to post at least weekly on Sundays. hopefully more than once a week

also!! Im not going to embarrass myself or others with attempting to translate Spanish and i think for coherency and comprehension i am just going to stick to italicized typing to indicate Spanish

Thank you!

   They found themselves alone on yet another airstrip. The chaos of the last mission washed away in cold base showers, and was forgotten over a basic meal with the remainder of their team. They had gotten orders that just Ghost with Soap and Badger were going off to Mexico to meet up  with the Mexican special forces on another tip off that Hassan was there. 

   It was a relatively smooth ride in a cargo transport to Las Almas, and passed in as much silence as Soap could manage when he hadn't sprawled himself out on several of the wall seats to sleep. 

   They landed in the early hour of the morning, the sun was barely rising casting a golden hue upon the new airstrip as they walked down the ramp to meet a rather stoic looking man. As they stepped out of the hull of the plane Soap was first to acknowledge the man as the Commander of the Special forces that they are linking up with. 

   “Alejandro!” 

   “Sergeant MacTavish” his voice was deep, and gravelly, he seemed less stoic as he was speaking, he reached for Soap's hand in a shake. Soap met it with a mild smile as Ghost and Badger finished getting all the way down the ramp and joined them. 

   “Call me Soap, That's Badger” he nodded over his shoulder towards Badger who  just nodded politely at the Colonel. Alejandro nodded and turned towards Ghost

   “Lieutenant, Laswell says they call you Ghost” 

   “Actually, I believes he prefers to be --” Ghost turned sharply to Soap and interrupted him

   “That’ll do.” Badger watched Soap’s face pinch up as he was foiled in his joke, he bumped his shoulder into Soaps as consolation before turning his attention back to Alejandro,

   “Welcome to the City of Souls' ' He turned on his heel and started walking to the first truck in a small caravan on the airstrip.

   “I've never been to Mexico” Soap took the lead following the colonel,

   “This isn't México,” Alejandro raised his arms to gesture around them, highlighting the mountains lit up in gold and the slow moving clouds, a small smile graced his lips when he spoke again “This is Las Almas” it was home to him, that much was obvious to Badger. 

   “Shepherd's contractors are inbound for reinforcements. They’re bringing hardware, they'll need room.” and there is Ghost, always straight to the point.

   “My base is your base.” Alejandro responded simply 

   “Good. Now, where’s Hassan?” Badger was a straightforward person but seemed to constantly be getting whiplash from the manner that Ghost spoke to people, he understood pleasantry always had their time and place, but maybe meeting an Ally for the first time was the time to use them regardless of how urgent their mission might be. 

   He was surprised that Alejandro took it in stride though instead of seeming off put by it,

   “Cartel Safe-house, ten clicks from here.” they reached the truck, “get in.”

   Ghost climbed in as Soap and Badger went to the other side, Soap stood dumbly for a second clearly trying to avoid the middle, Badger rolled his eyes and pushed him forward.

   “Get in chatty Cathy, ain't got all day” Soap looked taken a back before another more rougher push got him going,

   “Shut yer pus, im goin” He swatted at him as he climbed in and settled down with a huff, once Badger was in Soap seemed to purposely take up as much of his room as possible, Badger supposed it was only fair. 

   “C’mon, let's move!” Alejandro shouted to the rest of the caravan before climbing into his seat of the truck, he waves a head over to the driver, “This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra.” 

   Rodolfo smiled and leaned over to Alejandro just slightly, a look of false concern crossed his face as he spoke to Alejandro, “I’m afraid of Ghosts” Alejandro snorts and swipes at his shoulder before pointing to the road for him to start moving, he turned over his shoulder and looked at the men piled into the back. 

   “You know Spanish?” Ghost just looked away, and Soap shook his head lightly and muttered a no, Badger raised his hands and made a so-so gesture and then looked up into the rearview mirror to catch Rodolfos gaze.

   “Enough” Alejandro smiles at that before turning to Soap.

   “You will”

   The sun had fully risen by the time they made it to the colorful city of Las Almas, Badger was enraptured  by the colors of the buildings and the vibrancy of the people. The city was bustling for the early hours of the day, the streets were lined with cars and people chatted in door frames and in shops. A white truck passed them in the opposite direction with four men in the back of it. 

   Badger hadn't realized how much Soap had pushed into his space till he felt rather than heard Soap call it out, and he had to grab his arm to keep him from going for his weapon. He saw Ghost tense as well and tossed him a look before Alejandro turned around looking annoyed. 

   “Hey- tranquilo. Easy-- that's normal here.” he waved his hands as he spoke “Guns on the street is the jurisdiction of the police.”

   “Where are the police?” Ghost spoke up this time

   “Well, Las almas has a very serious problem, there are few here to uphold the law. And many of those who resist corruption disappear.”  

   “What about the military?” the tone that Soap spoke in unsettled Badger, these guys were supposed to be allies, interrogating them seemed like the wrong move. 

   “Well, because we are well trained, soldiers are recruited by the narcos” he spoke off handley as if he hadn't noticed the change in tone and instead looked at them through the mirror again

    "Why not you?” Ghost just barely avoided interrupting Alejandro, Badger tightened the forgotten grip on Soap before looking down at where he had grabbed his arm previously, Soap seemed to not have noticed that his grip lingered, Badger frowned slightly and tucked his hands back to himself and turned to look out the window again, watching the street go past. 

   He saw Alejandro lean back over towards Rodolfo and shrug his shoulders

   “We grew up here, they call us Los Vaqueros” he smiled at Rodolfo again but turned to look back at Badger when he spoke up,

   “Cowboys?”

   “Si, Cowboys, we love this place. And we will die fighting for it.” That familiar warmth was back in his voice from the airstrip, Rodolfo seemed to share the same sentiment,

   They drove past a street vendor at the corner of the street, it was a quaint little cart decorated with colorful cloth banners, Badger couldn't see what was being sold but did see the little family speaking with the vendor. He also saw the two armed men just a few steps away from the family. It was a stark contrast. Badger grunted when he felt almost the full weight of Soap pushing against him yet again as he tried to look out the window, Badger just looked over at Ghost with mild annoyance, he just rolled his eyes at him. 

   Soap started to lean back as they drove further away from them,

   “Kids, guns and balloons. That's a new one.'' Again with the confronting tone, Badger elbowed him back into his place in the middle and swatted away a retaliatory hand and gave Soap a stern look. 

   “Narcos use generosity to win over the people” Alejandro was watching ahead as the traffic started to slow as it became backed up. 

   “Even the children?” Soap questioned. 

   “Especially the children.” It was Rodolfo that spoke this time, a slight glare reaching them from the mirror again, Soap had the decency to look a little sheepish. It was clear he was getting annoyed at the interrogation that  Soap was putting up. 

   The traffic reached a standstill and they were stopped next to a taped off alleyway that had a truck and two bodies on the ground behind it covered by sheets that were covered in scrawling writing. Badger was mildly thankful that it was on the other side of the truck and extra thankful that Soap seemed to have enough common sense to not pull the same shit with Ghost, and instead just sits up more to look out the window without pressing into Ghost. 

   “What's on those sheets?” 

   “Nacromantras” Alejandro looked upset from the sight of the scene and it was reflected in his voice.

   “Cartel Cloths” Rodolfo clarified for them “Messages from El Sin Nombre. Warning, marking territory.” The caravan started moving again, Alejandro shook his head in disgust

   “Our streets are laced with death,” he said it like a curse before pointedly looking away from the scene. 

   “Who is Sin Nombre?” the misspoken name sounded rough from Ghost

   “El Sin Nombre,” Alejandro corrects him, “the Nameless, the leader of the Las Almas Cartel”

   “Where can we find him?” Soap spoke but then seemed distracted by a rather large mural that they started to drive by. It was painted on a three story house. It had what was clearly a symbol for the Las Almas Cartel painted directly in the middle surrounded by vibrate roses, motifs of the Madonna and guns, a banner was painted just below the symbol EL SIN NOMBRE filled the banner and just below that was likely more of the naromantras from the sheet but it passed to fast for Badger to be sure. 

   Alejandro was also caught by the mural, “ You can't, no one knows who he is. But he is everywhere and this a challenge” He turned back to Rodolfo and chuckled “But Los Vaqueros like Challenges” Rodolfo nodded back to Alejandro before he looked back through the mirror again looking back at Ghost specifically.

   “With your mask, you'll fit in well here, Ghost” Badger stifled a smile as he watched Ghost slowly turn his attention to Rodolfo in the mirror, his eyes were like ice and he just stared. Rodolfo's smile faltered as he caught Soap making a “don't do that” hand motion

   “Hey easy”  Alejandro tried to comfort before being distracted by an upcoming checkpoint, “Checkpoint, Its the Army, turn right, we’ll go around”

   Soap pursed his lips in confusion before leaning forward to question as the took the turn down a narrower road,

   “Why?”

   “Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre, like I told you. He is Everywhere” Alejandro looked frustrated, leaning back to speak to them “cartel is hiding Hassan in the Village across the river, let's hope he's still there” 

   The road they took turned into something that could barely be called a road, mostly just packed dirt from frequent use. They remained in silence for a while, badger was messing with his comm unit, pinning the ear piece into place and then started to mess with the inputs on the unit. He looked up and started to ask for the right input so their comms would all be linked but Alejandro had caught on to what he was doing and without having to ask to read off the correct codes to join their systems.

Badger fixed Soaps comms to the right settings as well and watched over as Ghost adjusted his. 

   They parked just outside of the village, Soap Ghost and Alejandro stepped out first and went to grab kits from the back of the truck, Badger was stepping down out of the truck when Rodolfo spoke to him, he was adjusting his comms unit as well.

   “I would’ve  thought someone with the name Badger would be asking all the questions” 

   Badger looked back at him a little sheepish, he had noticed how much all of  Soap's questions had bothered both of them, and while Rodolfo was better at hiding it than Alejandro it was still evident even if Soap hadn't noticed. Or cared. 

   “Badger for a different reason,” He looked over at him before he collected is own kit “sorry to disappoint” Rodolfo just patted his shoulder before heading over to Alejandro, who had just called for all the team leaders to circle up on him. 

   “Where are they holding Hassan?” Soap joined them in the circle with Ghost right behind him. 

   “White two story building, back of town” Alejandro fist bumps Rodolfo before pointing off towards a gate that seemed to lead into the town, and with a wave of his hand Alejandro leads them off towards the town, as Rodolfo takes his team off a different way. 

   They gather around the gate, Alejandro has bracketed himself to breach the door and coordinates over the comms with Rodolfo's team. 

   This town lacked the colors that Las Almas had; the buildings were all browns, whites and oranges, they all seemed beaten down and in disrepair. It also lacked the people that las almas had, there wasn't just less people here there was no people here and it left the town eerily quiet

   “Where are the civilians?’ Soap spoke up as he walked past a window that was broken peeping his head inside as they passed

   “Gone, Cartel took over people left, it's a hideout now”

   “Good place to keep Hassan then” 

   They approached another black gate and could hear the cartel men clamoring around as they started to notice the breach into the town, this gate was left partially open. Ghost pushed it further open and Alejandro went guns blazing through the gate with Soap and Badger behind on his heels. 

There was a brick building to their right as they burst through the gate and a white building down at the end of the slope little more than a hovel. Cartelmen used them for cover trying to avoid the hellstorm that was Alejandro's team. It was easy to clear them, they wore little for protection and seemed to only have rudimentary grasp on their weapons. Alejandro ordered a push forward. The man called Rodriguez moved with them as they pushed further into the town and into an ally. 

   Badger crossed the ally fast and took cover behind the white building, Soap cleared the final man from inside as they moved. More firing from further up the ally. Three more cartelmen dropped from their fire. He called another push up and made a break for a set of cement stairs and just barely took cover fast enough to be missed by incoming fire that broke up the brick wall behind him into pebbles. 

   Alejandro was pinned down behind the stairs unable to make anything other than blind return fire, Soap had pushed past Badger and peaked from the corner of the building into the alley way, took aim and downed the final cartelman. He called clear

   "Secure this house, then we go for Hassan” Alejandro ordered as he got up from his spot behind the stairs, he pointed to the orange brick house that ended the alley in a dead end. 

   “Cartel will move him fast.” Ghost protested as he also came out from his cover behind an abandoned cupboard against the wall behind them, he had taken rearguard with Rodriguez,

   “Then we move faster” Alejandro moved up to the teal door of the house, crouched low waiting to enter as soon as the door was breached. Badger moved to the door and waited for his signal to break it down. 

   The door almost shattered as he kicked it down, it was much thinner than he expected so he almost tipped into the room had Ghost not pulled back on his vest roughly settling him back on two solid feet before He Soap and Alejandro burst into the house, clearing it as they went. Badger and Rodriguez held rear guard until Clear was called again. 

   They joined them in the house, which was low ceilinged, dark and now littered with dead men, a great sight to be in a forgotten child bedroom.

   “What happened to the families here?” Badger asked as he entered the kitchen area

   “The cartels bring violence, so they leave '' he was short with his answer, gruff it was clear the lack of control he had on the cartels upset him greatly. “Lets go, get ready to move” 

   Soap takes the lead to the door in the kitchen that goes to the outside, Soap made a show of using the deadbolt to unlock the door, tossing a ”see its simple”  look to Badger as he started to open the door, Alejandro’s hand pushed the door shut, and pointed out the window “Stand By. Victor-2 this 1-1, Deploy smoke. We’re moving external” 

   “Copy, smoke out” Rudy called back over the comms and the plunging of smoke canisters could be heard as they struck the ground and slowly filing the atmosphere with cover

   Soap broke the silence that had comfortably fallen as they took the second to prepare for rushing the next house.

   “Where’s your Family? Alejandro?” Badger snapped his attention to him, eyes slightly wide and a grimace set in place. The man simply didn't think before he spoke. He flicked his eyes over to Ghost where he stood watch at a window. Ghost didn't seem to care about Soaps dumbassery and just rolled his eyes when Badger looked over.

   Alejandro took a deep breath before he spoke. 

   “I keep that a secret, hermano, to protect them.” it came out stern but not angry much to Badger's surprise. He watched as Soap opened his mouth to speak again, but was thankfully cut off by Ghost.

   “We have concealment” 

   “Let's Move, on me Soap” Alejandro clasped Soap on the shoulder, removing the hand he had blocking the door. The moment it was open Alejandro took off towards the large two story house just across the courtyard. 

   The door was broken into with ease and the first floor was cleared too easily, there was an unsettling lack of resistance for a house that was supposed to contain Hassan. It set Badger on edge. 

   “Clear! No Hassan!” Alejandro calls out as he moves towards the stairs, 

   “Second deck” Ghost orders as he makes his way up towards the loft, the rest of the team in tow. It was also cleared in seconds. Alejandro cursed as it became obvious they missed Hassan.

   The house was littered with dead men and weapons, it also was strewn with dolls and other toys, a kids bike was broken on the floor in the kitchen, the bedrooms had been decorated in accordance to those that had previously lived here, those that had clearly left the house in a hurry as boxes that had likely been hastily packed laid turned over just about everywhere you looked. 

   When Badger made it back up to the loft, Ghost was looking through files on the desk, Alejandro Soap and Rodriguez were discussing Hassan and the intel that they operated on. Badger went to the big bay windows and found a photo of the family that had lived here toppled over, he had bent down to pick it up when movement up on the roads caught his eye. 

   A Caravan was rolling into the village, and fast. They were tearing up the roads and kicking dirt into the air behind them. Badger sat back up quickly, the speed of the action grabbed the attention of the others, he was about to speak when Rodolfos voice broke over the comms.

   “Commander! Army is rolling in!” Fucking hell this was going to be bad.

   “Shit” 

   Ghost looked up from the paperwork on the desk to Badger, “What is it?”

   Alejandro answered for him. “The Army”

   Soap joined him at the window to look out to the ever closing Mexican Army Transport. He looked confused.

   “We’ve got reinforcements”

   “Negative.” Alejandro sounded grim. “0-3, fall back, fall back”

   “Copy that”

   Ghost caught on quick and stepped away from the desk and took up a spot couched in front of one the bay windows.  “What’re we doing?”

   “Covering my men,” Alejandro waved up to Rodriguez to block the entrance of the loft, dragging a shelf over to the door, and pushing the couch against that. “Once they’re clear, we fall back” 

   Soap was taken aback “You want us to engage the fucking Mexican Army?!” He had stepped close enough to Badger that he grabbed him and pulled him down so that he wasn't standing dumbly in front of the large windows and nearly growled at him. 

   “Didn't you hear a single thing he said in the truck Soap? That not the fuckin army thats the cartel payroll.” He roughly pushed him back as he let go and went back to leveling off the trucks in his scope. Soap flushed red, and a dumb ‘oh’ dropped from his lips before he managed to remember himself and join them in targeting the caravan. 

   “Hold your fire, we dig in until my men are clear”

   “Multiple vehicles, troops transport, light armor” Ghost calls out 

   “Hold fire, let them get close” 

   One of the trucks launched a large smoke canister, blocking them from seeing when and where the caravan stopped, but they saw troops emerge from the smoke with shields and take aim at the house. They have mere seconds to turn away from the windows before they're rained upon by glass shards as the windows are shot out above them. Alejandro called for weapons free. 

   The room thundered with fire, and it made moving for any extra cover nearly impossible. The few shots he was able to get in after getting up from his low crouch seemed to do nothing.

“They’re Armoured,” Soap shouted in annoyance. 

   “Target the helmets, they're weak” 

   “They’re using shields” Ghost shouted over the clamour as a well, it was clear that they were doing little to minimize the amount of combatants against them, the simply had to pull the fire away from Rodolfos squad and hope they could last long enough. Badger watched as shards of wood ripped away from the walls from the incoming fire, and cursed. It was quite a bind. They started falling back from the windows and just sought cover. 

   “Commander, we're clear!”  oh thank the light, they can start moving from this deathtrap.

   “copy ! rally at the safehouse!” Alejandro orders before turning to them “lets get the hell out of here!” He popped up from his spot in the corner and made for a shuttered window, tossed it open and hoped down and slid off the roof onto the ground and took off like a bat out of hell to a path that led down the ridge. Rodriguez followed with the same grace, then Soap. Badger rather fell from the window than slid but still took off the same as Ghost  reached the ground and followed. 

“Down the hill! We’ll lose them in the mountains!” Alejandro shouted over his shoulder as they raced to catch up with him. “Fan out and stay close” 

   It was like everyone just had the ability to melt into the forest with how quick he seemed to lose everyone and he hoped that he didn't get lost. Shots fired down from above tossing up small handfuls of dirt as high velocity rounds stuck the earth by their feet rather than them. 

   The army had caught up. They jumped off a steep boulder and rolled behind cover, turned and returned the fire. Rodriguez went down with a shout. He was nearby. Badger looked around and saw him face down a few paces away, He ran over to him and looked him over.

   “You're fine, let's get you up boyo” Badger pulled him up against the boulder they now shared as the rest of the team was trying to clear the army. Rodriguez groaned in protest of moving. “It hit your back plate, it'll bruise” Rodriguez nodded and tried to calm his breathing for a moment. The firing came to a sudden stop and they were hauling ass again, Badger tried to stay with Rodriguez to give him extra cover, he was slowly lagging behind. 

   “You know these trails?” Soap called out to Alejandro as he took the lead,

   “Very well, but do does the army” 

   “Cant hold off the Army. We need extraction” 

   “Rodriguez! Call for extraction!” Alejandro ordered, they stayed closer this time as they dropped down the hillside, more than once Badger crashed down off rock faces compared to the grace and Alejandro and Ghost demonstrated.

   “Contact!” 

   Fire rained from above again as they tried to find over, Badger pulled them behind a larger rock again and took up fire as Rodriguez crouched low, tucking himself into the cover between Badger and the rock, fiddling with his coms trying desperately to reach Rodolfo.

   “Control, victor 1 request immediate extraction at Soul River Bridge, How to copy?”  he was shouting into the comms. 

   The fire stopped again and badger pulled him up and kept him in front of him as they ran again down the hill, he continued to shout into the comms with no response

   “Rodriguez where are we with comms?” 

   “Mountains blocking out comms!” Rodriguez called back.

   “Your man got the call out?” Ghost questioned as they slid down a slope a bit further

   “Let's hope so” Alejandro laughed a little, 

   “What's the plan then?” Soap jumped down a boulder next to where Badger and Rodriguez were moving and he joined them. 

   “There is a bridge at the river. Extraction will be there.” Alejandro explained to them as he looked for a specific path to lead them down. 

   They reached a steep drop, Badger threw himself down it and rolled out of his fall in front of a tree when it exploded with an RPG. the force of it shattered the tree throwing shards of wood back at Badger, a shard struck him before he could cover. He was bleeding from the hairline, with a curse he stood back up and continued forward wiping roughly at his forehead.

   “Anyone hit?” Alejandro called out from cover as he was firing up the ridgeline, everyone called out a negative from where they stood firing hoping desperately that the onslaught of men would end.  Eventually it did.

   They seemed to be running out of places to run as the clift side seemed to come nearer, Alejandro stopped abruptly at the edge and looked back towards them,

   “We have to jump here”  Soap reached the ledge and looked over it down to something unseen by Badger.

   “Can we even make that?” Badger paled slightly at the comment of the unseen ledge and looked over to Soap and then back to Alejandro 

   “Are you serious?” It took a lot to keep the nervousness from his voice, it was one thing to jump from a plane and another to jump from good solid ground. If a parachute failed when jumping it was just a rush that ended quickly, who knows if he misses if the fall will kill him. 

   “Do or Die hermano” Alejandro tossed over his shoulder as he jumped, Badger made it up to the ledge to watch him fall down and slide across a very far and very thin outcropping from the clift, and watch him pop up and jump to an even further outcropping that rounded around the cliff face. 

   Soap followed bravely and executed flawlessly, Rodrigues followed with the confidence of someone who's done it a million times. Badger steeled himself and took a step back to give himself momentum for when he jumped down,

   He hit solidly and slid down the rough ground of the slope, and just barely managed to get his feet back under him for the second platform, of which he rolled onto and slapped softly into the stone wall. He heard Soap make a small sound of surprise when the other two on the platform let out a small snicker at his less than graceful execution.

   Ghost perusal just seemed to appear silently and unbothered as he crouched down, weapon in and and scanned the tree lines for snipers.

   “Where to, Alejandro?” Soap asked from his watch position. 

   “Soap push forwards, Rodriguez keep trying on the comms, the rest of you watch for snipers” Badger settled down in front of Rodriguez’s position and turned outwards towards the tree line mirroring Ghost who was a few paces away from him. “Soap, use that ledge there will be a way up the mountain”

   Soap disappeared out of sight with a grunt as he presumably jumped to whatever ledge that Alejandro pointed out. Badger could hear Rodriguez speaking into the comms again as he and Ghost looked for the tell tale gleam of a scope or barrel in the sunlight. 

   “Got anything?” Badger questioned over to Ghost who just grunted a negative in response. 

   “They’re out there,  believe me” 

   “control , this is victor-1, do you read me?”  Rodriguez sounded desperate as he looked back up to where he knew the Army was, the action made him look incredibly young and it struck something in Badger. He's quickly distracted though as Soap calls that he's found a way up the mountain, as they are just finishing getting up the steep cliff face Ghost spots a Helicopter with a curse. 

   “Get to a firing position. We’ll take them by surprise” Alejandro confirms the heli sighting and helps direct them back into cover.

   “Which way is the bridge?” Ghost asks as he pulls himself up last from the final ledge, following them closely. 

   “Straight ahead. Past the helo” he paused a moment in thought “they'll try to cut us off” 

   “Grand” the sarcastic excitement sounded wrong coming from Badger “then I guess we’re goin through them” 

   It was almost like he called for them to appear with how fast the Army dropped down from an up ahead ridge and immediately took to firing upon them. But they made it easy for them to return fire. The sun was to their advantage, casting their hiding spots into deep shadows and lit the ridge and boulders they took to walking on in bright golden light that simply begged for them to shoot the brains out of anyone who stepped too far forwards.

   The inched their way up in the shadows creeping closer and closer to the remaining army troops that had been smart enough to attempt to find cover, even if it wasn't successful. Ghost shot the last man on the ridge and called clear. It was a right mess on the boulders that they had to climb to get to the bridge.

   They pushed up the hill and Alejandro called out that the bridge wasn't too far; they entered the top of the hill. It was gorgeous up there, and had they not been running for their lives from the Mexican Army Badger would have stopped to just absorb the landscape. It was towering mountains and the sun hit just right to light up a thin waterfall that casted a shimmer around it. 

   Alejandro warned them about hidden shooters.  

   “There's the bridge”

   “No visual on extraction”  a curse ripped from Rodriguez that Badger didn't know but knew it as colorful from the bits he understood, he watched him take a calming breath though turn towards Ghost.

   “Comms didn't get through” Badger clasped him on the shoulders and gave him what he hoped was a comforting look. 

   “We’ll radio when we get down there” Alejandro waved them forwards and dropped an extremely steep drop off, and while Alejandro took it with grace even Soap had tripped up his landing and Badger downright slammed into the ground yet again. They took off down even more narrow outcroppings than last time, Alejandro taking the lead with Soap following, Badger kept Rodriguez in front of him and per usual Ghost took up rear guard. 

   They were quite literally shuffling along and outcropping no wider than a boot, when shots started above their heads. Bits of rock broke off from the walls from missed shots

   "Sniper! Move!” Ghost shouted as they all tried to go as fast as they could without slipping off the cliff, they had almost made it to a larger outcropping when another round of shots fired. 

   A shot ripped through Rodriguez's thigh, and he shouted and tipped forwards reaching out behind him, Badger surged forwards to try to grab him, but he slipped as another shot just barely missed him. Just for a moment he had Rodriguez in his grip before he fell too far forwards tumbling into the valley. 

   “Rodriguez!”  Alejandro shouted mournfully, and Badger was gasping as he was pulled further back onto the narrow outcropping, a hand laced into his vest at his shoulder. Ghost hurried him forwards keeping a tight grip on his vest. 

   Badger didn't hear the return fire from Alejandro but he nearly felt the rumble of Ghost's voice as he praised “Bloody good shot, mate!” 

   They all looked upwards as they heard the Army catching up to them again, their orders to follow them down the cliff side sent dread through Badger.

   “Army's still on our trail” Soap urged them to move, Alejandro looked down the cliff side remorsefully before steeling himself and then turned to take the lead again. Ghost let go of Badger as they looked off again.

   They slid to a stop at the end of an outcropping a bit further down the cliff face, it was a deadend. 

   “You led us to a deadend mate,” Ghost complained, looking pointedly at Alejandro. 

   “We jump from here, don't lose your weapon” Alejandro basically gave the last order while in the air, there was absolutely no hesitation before jumped off the clift, it was a solid moment before he splashed into the water. Badger took a nervous gulp. 

   Soap brave as ever followed quickly with a little whoop of excitement, he too splashed safely into the water. 

   Badger stepped forwards and hesitated a moment before looking backwards towards the ridge that he knew soon would be full of soldiers shooting down at them again. His eyes flicked to Ghost who surprisingly didn't roll them or slide off his gaze.

   “Your turn sergeant” it was missing the usual roughness that typically accompanied Ghost. Badger swallowed again before nodding and turning forwards again, pointedly avoiding looking down. 

   “Fucking hell” He jumped. And he damn near forgot to hold his breath until moments before he crashed into the water. Vaguely he thinks he hears ghost land in the water shortly after him. 

   When Badger resurfaces he tries his best to minimize the gasping he is doing, he barely manages to call back that he's okay when Alejandro asks. 

   “Move down river to the bridge, use the rocks for cover” they start down the river drifting from rock to rock and mostly travel under the water in an attempt to remain hidden from the banks. Alejandro attempted to reach Rodolfo on the comms. “All stations, this is victor-1 how to copy?” 

   Finally a voice crackled over the radio in response to them.

   “dow-1! Do you- say again,-o you’tre---?” It was an American voice. 

   “Radio is picking  up something! Soap sounded elated and looked back excitedly to Badger and Ghost. His smile dropped a little when he looked at Badger, eyes flicking towards his forehead. 

   Ghost made a sound of approval “sounds American” he commented and was promptly cut off again by enemy fire.

   Badger couldn't say he had the most experience fighting in water and had to admit it was adversely affecting his ability to be effective in combat. He swam to a rock that was jutting out of the water and clung to it to steady his hand on his weapon, that miraculously wasn't lost when he crashed into the water, and fired upon the right bank noting that more trucks were rolling in behind the current line of soldiers. 

   “Vehicles on the bridge” Badger called out and continued to swim up river as the bank was cleared,

   “They're not ours” another curse spilled from Soap's lips as he checked his ammunition, they're all low. 

   The river shallows out the closer they get to the bridge and thankfully more boulders were available for cover as they rose from the water.

   “We have to hold here and get extraction” Alejandro started firing upon the vehicles on the bridge, it was doing alarmingly little. 

   “We can't do shite against that armor!” Soap complains as he continues to fire upon the vehicles trying to target helmets again, when the voice that crackled through before returned

   “This is Shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close!”

   “Who the hell is that?” Alejandro shouted the question over his shoulder as he continued his fire.

   “Commander Graves, Shadow company, they're with us” Ghost responded as they all took the welcomed reprieve that was watching the Army be blown to bits and at the bridge collapsing with them on it. Ghost jumped onto the comms to confirm the hit with Graves, “Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7! Good shots! Fire for effect!” 

   “All stations, no enemy movement detected. You're clear” Badger let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, “Good to see you boys''

   “Likewise, mate,” Ghost replied and motioned for them to follow Alejandro to the left bank of the river and onto dry land and towards the bridge. Thankfully there was one ruck left behind. “Graves, we located a vehicle for exfil”

   “Roger that. Be advised, we got a possible hit on Hassan, two clicks north of your position”

   “That's cartel land, they have a compound there”    They reached the truck and dumped some of their wet gear into the bed of the truck, Alejandro hopped into the driver's seat and Ghost filed into the front passenger, 

   “You boys, good to roll up Hassan with some fire from the sky?” 

   “Lets wrap this fucker up, Graves” Soap sounded full of confidence for someone whos missed Hassan twice and was chased down a mountain, Badger couldn't say that he shared the confidence,

   “Solid copy. We are pushing to the target directly. Shadow-1 out” 

   Badger pushed himself firmly into the back seat and closed his eyes,  trying to ground himself and take account of his body. He was tired from the mad dash down the cliff and his forehead was starting to really hurt as the adrenaline started slipping from him on the drive,

   He felt Soap lean closer to him and he turned his head rather roughly to give him a mild glare, really not feeling up to his shenanigans at the moment. He was surprised to see that he had gauze in hand and a small first aid kit sitting between them, he looked startled at Badger not expecting the hostility. Badger looked at him confused before Soap gestured to his forehead, and Badger remembered the tree exploding, and reached his hand to the cut on his forehead, fingers coming away red. What he thought was water dripping from his hair was actually mixed with blood and covered a good portion of his face. He must have looked deadly if the worried look he caught from Soap was anything to go off of.

   He looked down at Soap sheepishly and let him take his head in his hands, Soap dabbed at his face carefully, occasionally gripping his chin and moving him about so that he could reach everywhere. Badger felt his face heat up and closed his eyes to avoid looking at Soap as he worked, who had drawn his lip between his teeth unconsciously. 

   It wasn't long until he cleaned up his face, applied a small amount of antiseptic, he cooed at Badger when he had flinched not expecting the sting, and applied small wound closure strips to the gash across his forehead.  

   Badger thanked him quietly when his hands left his face, and he leaned back into his seat. He looked into the rearview mirror and caught Ghost staring back at him. He flushed again and closed his eyes trying to catch the little bit of rest before they were tossed back into the frying pan. 

   He tried not to dwell on the feeling of warm hands now absent on his face. 

First Next Last Masterlist AO3

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a comment also i take suggestions for one shot and drabbles

[monimarat]

Marat tells Camille Desmoulins about escaping arrest on January 22nd, 1790

L’Ami du Peuple - No. 170, July 23, 1790

I like to believe that my brother in arms, Camille Desmoulins, will not abandon his country, and will not renounce the care of his glory, by losing courage in the middle of his noble career. He is outraged to have heard his head called for by deputies to the federation. But a few drunken or abused men do not make up the public; and this public, even if it goes astray, always contains a large number of estimable citizens, full of admiration and gratitude for their generous defenders . . . I’m not looking for praise: but my friend, how far your fate is from the harshness of mine!

As you love to laugh, here are a few anecdotes to cheer you up, and give you an idea of the turmoil in my life since the revolution.

On January 22nd, the day on which the Minister of Finance, the Mayor and the Commander of the National Guard sent an army to attack me, I was resting in a nearby street, when a young man attached to my office came to tell me, weeping, that my house was surrounded by several battalions. My host and his wife entered my room in dismay; they wanted to speak, but could only moan. --- Never am I more cold-blooded than in the midst of imminent danger. Not wishing to go out in disorder for fear of arousing suspicion, I groomed myself. I put on a rodingotte, covered myself with a round hat, put on a laughing face, and off I went, gaining the Gros-Caillou, through a detachment of the guard sent to kidnap me. On the way I tried to distract my caravan companion, and I kept my good humor until about five o'clock in the evening, the time when I was expecting the proof of the sheet in which I would report on the famous adventure. No one came. I sensed the blow that threatened me, and the next morning I learned that the seals had been put on my presses. The day passed in sadness. Word had got out about the route I'd taken. In the evening, the house was invaded by spies; I recognized them through a jealousy. They suggested I escape through the roof at nightfall. I passed through them in broad daylight, giving my arm to a young woman and walking at a leisurely pace. When night fell, I made my way to the Luxembourg basin, where two friends were waiting for me. They were to take me to a lady in the neighborhood. We found no one at home: here I am on the pavement. One of my companions began to cry, and I dried his tears with a burst of laughter. Arriving at the Greve, I wanted to see the reverbere that had been intended for me two days before, and passed under it. Arrived at rue de la Perle: my new host had company: I found a person who was no stranger to me. To change the mood of the curious, it was necessary to be cheerful: and so I was. After a quarter of an hour of conversation, I asked my host if he was sure of such and such a person. --- As of myself. --- Very well; and I continued the conversation. I sighed and went to bed. In the middle of the night, a cavalry squad alights under my windows. I jumped up and opened my shutters. I noticed that none of them had set foot on the ground; I quietly returned to my bed, until the next day, when I had to get out of bed.

Dear Desmoulins! you who know how to amuse your readers so well, come and learn to laugh with me. But continue to fight with energy against the enemies of the Revolution, and receive the augury of victory.