#as in there is nothing in the world mane could do to lose flames loyalty and vice versa

[mcytegg]

GOD i need to yap abt flames loyalty to mane bc i find it endlessly fascinating that he will put up w so much shit and do things he himself doesnt particularly like or believe in simply bc mane asks it of him. bc mane is his teammate, and flames sense of loyalty to him bc of that is possibly the closest thing LS has to a relationship w unconditional loyalty.

[fanfiction-9ano]

As Mollie

What if the story “Animal Farm” was in Mollie’s perspective and her own experience, as if Mollie was the principal character.

Written by: Ana Laura Armada, Giovana Mazzer and Sofia Fonseca.

As Mollie – chapter 2

Three nights later, I was sad to know that old Major had die. He was buried at the foot of the orchard and I cried a lot. I didn´t want to see him go.

This was in early March, my favorite time of the year. Winter is coming to an end and flowers are starting to bloom up. During the next three months there was much secret activity. I didn’t understand much of those, but Napoleon told me that everything was fine, and that I wasn’t supposed to care about it.

Old major's speech had given to the more intelligent animals on the farm a completely new outlook on life. They did not know when the Rebellion predicted by Major would take place, they had no reason for thinking that it would be within their own lifetime, but they saw clearly that it was their duty to prepare for it. The work of teaching and organizing the others fell naturally upon the pigs, who were generally recognized as being the cleverest of the animals.

We have three pigs in the farm. They are nice, but kind of show-of, I don't really know how I feel about them, because they are against my ribbons, which I truly love... Well, these three pigs had elaborated old Major's teachings into a complete system of thought, which they gave the name of Animalism. Several nights a week, after that monster called Mr. Jones – the owner of our farm - was asleep, they held secret meetings in the barn and expounded the principles of Animalism to the others, I wasn't paying much attention, but I knew that Animalism was the great chance of us getting the freedom we deserved.

At the beginning we met with much stupidity and apathy. Some of us talked of the duty of loyalty to Mr. Jones - witch I thought it was completely stupid, he gave us nothing but ribbons and food - , whom they referred to as "Master," or made elementary remarks such as "Mr. Jones feeds us. If he were gone, we should starve to death." Others asked such questions as "Why should we care what happens after we are dead?" or "If this Rebellion is to happen anyway, what difference does it make whether we work for it or not?", and the pigs had great difficulty in making them see that this was contrary to the spirit of Animalism. The stupidest questions of all were asked by Mollie, the white mare. The very first question she asked Snowball was: "Will there still be sugar after the Rebellion? "

"No," said one of the pigs, being a complete jerk. "We have no means of making sugar on this farm. Besides, you do not need sugar. You will have all the oats and hay you want."

That was absurd. Who do they think they are?

"And shall I still be allowed to wear ribbons in my mane?" I asked almost crying.

"Comrade," said the pig, "those ribbons that you are so devoted to are the badge of slavery. Can you not understand that liberty is worth more than ribbons?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. They wanted to get over with my ribbons! I wonder what my life would be like for now on...

Now, as it turned out, the Rebellion was achieved much earlier and more easily than we had expected. In past years Mr. Jones, although a hard master, had been a good farmer, but after some years he had fallen on evil days. He had become much disheartened after losing money in a lawsuit and had taken to drinking more than was good for him. For whole days at a time he would lounge in his Windsor chair in the kitchen, reading the newspapers, drinking, and occasionally feeding Moses on crusts of bread soaked in beer. His men were idle and dishonest, the fields were full of weeds, the buildings wanted roofing, the hedges were neglected, and the animals were underfed.

When Mr. Jones got back, he immediately went to sleep on the drawing−room sofa with the News of the World over his face, so that when evening came, we were still unfed. At last we could stand it no longer. One of the cows broke the door of the store−shed with her horn and we began to help ourselves from the bins. It was just then that Mr. Jones woke up. The next moment he and his four men were in the store−shed with whips in their hands, lashing out in all directions. They had never seen us behave like this before, and this sudden our uprising was used to thrash and maltreat us, I don’t know why, but my friends and I were frightened. After only a moment or two they gave up trying to defend themselves and took to their heels. A minute later all five of them were in full flight down the cart−track that led to the main road, with us pursuing them in triumph.

Mrs. Jones looked out of the bedroom window, saw what was happening, hurriedly flung a few possessions into a carpet bag, and ran away from the farm by another way. Moses sprang off his perch and flapped after her, croaking loudly. Meanwhile we had chased Jones and his men out on to the road and hit the five−barred gate behind them. And so, almost before they knew what was happening, the Rebellion had been successfully carried through: Jones was expelled, and the Manor Farm was theirs. It was a moment of an unforgettable victory.

For the first few minutes my comrades and I could hardly believe in their good fortune. Our first act was to gallop in a body right round the farm’s limits, to make quite sure that no human was there hiding themselves there; then we ran back to the farm buildings to wipe out the last traces of Jones's hated reign. The harness−room at the end of the stables was broken open; the bits, the nose−rings, the dog−chains, the cruel knives with which Mr. Jones had been used to castrate some of us, were all flung down the well. All his torture objects were thrown into the rubbish fire which was burning in the yard. So were the whips. We capered with joy when they saw the whips going up in flames. Snowball also threw on to the fire the ribbons with which the horses' manes and tails had usually been decorated on market days.

"Ribbons," someone said, "should be considered as clothes, which are the mark of a human being. All animals should go naked."

After a very little while we had destroyed everything that reminded us of Mr. Jones. Napoleon then led us back to the store−shed and served out a double ration of corn to everybody, with two biscuits for each dog. Then we sang our hymn, Beasts of England, from the beginning to end seven times running, as an act of happiness and freedom! No human was taking care of us in anymore!! After that we settled down for the night and slept as we had never slept before.

After some time, all the comrades woke up, with no worries. We ran around the farm, filled back to the farm buildings and halted in silence outside the door of the farmhouse. That was theirs too, but they were frightened to go inside. After a moment, however, Snowball and Napoleon butted the door open with their shoulders and we entered in single file, walking with the utmost care for fear of disturbing anything. We went room to room kind of quietly, afraid to speak above a whisper and gazing with a kind of awe at the unbelievable luxury, at the beds with their feather mattresses, the looking−glasses, the horsehair sofa, the Brussels carpet, the lithograph of Queen Victoria over the drawing−room mantelpiece. We were lust coming down the stairs when I was discovered to be missing. Going back, the others found that she had remained behind in the best bedroom. I had taken a piece of blue ribbon from Mrs. Jones's dressing−table and was holding it against my shoulder and admiring myself and my beauty in the glass in a very foolish manner. The others reproached my sharply, and we went outside. Some hams hanging in the kitchen were taken out for burial, and the barrel of beer in the scullery was stove in with a kick from Boxer's hoof, −otherwise nothing in the house was touched. A unanimous resolution was passed on the spot that the farmhouse should be preserved as a museum. All were agreed that none of us must ever live there.

We had our breakfast, and then Snowball and Napoleon called them together again.

"Comrades," said Snowball, "it is half−past six and we have a long day before us. Today we begin the hay harvest. But there is another matter that must be attended to first."

After this we went back to the farm buildings, where Snowball the pigs sent for a ladder which they caused to be set against the end wall of the big barn. They explained that by their studies of the past three months the pigs had succeeded in reducing the principles of Animalism to Seven Commandments, that was unfair, because they did it all by their own, without consulting the rest of the animals. These Seven Commandments would now be inscribed on the wall; they would form an unalterable law by which all of us on Animal Farm must live for ever after. With some difficulty (for it is not easy for a pig to balance himself on a ladder) Snowball climbed up and set to work, with Squealer a few rungs below him holding the paint−pot. The Commandments were written on the tarred wall in great white letters that could be read thirty yards away. They ran thus:

THE SEVEN COMMANDMENTS

1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy.

2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend.

3. No animal shall wear clothes.

4. No animal shall sleep in a bed.

5. No animal shall drink alcohol.

6. No animal shall kill any other animal.

7. All animals are equal.

"Now, comrades," cried Snowball, throwing down the paint − brush, "to the hayfield! Let us make it a point of honor to get in the harvest more quickly than Jones and his men could do."