#goddammit anime staff you failed us all

[conejossays]

Pros of blonde Francois: Lady Oscar reference.

Cons of blonde Francois: IT SHOULD BE RED THERE'RE TOO MANY PEOPLE WITH YELLOW HAIR IN THIS ANIME

[theculturedmarxist]

Fred Hampton - It's A Class Struggle Goddammit!, November, 1969

Speech delivered at Nothern Illinois University, November, 1969

What we're going to try to do, is we're going to try to rap and educate. We're glad to try to throw out some more information. And it's going to be hard to do. The Sister made a beautiful speech as far as I'm concerned. Chaka, the Deputy Minister of Information, that's his job--informing. But I'm going to try to inform you also.

One thing Chaka forgot to mention that Brothers and Sisters don't do exactly the same. We don't ask for any Brother to get pregnant or anything. We don't ask no brothers to have no babies. So that's a little different also.

After we get through speaking, for those people of you who don't think you understood all of the ideology exposed here so far, and the ideologies that I will espouse, we will have a question and answer period. For those people who have their feelings hurt by niggers talking about guns, we'll have a cry'in after the question and answer period. And for those white people that are here to show some type of overwhelming manifestation of guilt syndromes, and want people to cry out that they love them, after the cry-in, if we have time, we'll allow you all to have a love-in.

So now we'll get down to business. First of all, about what some people call the TRIAL. We call it a HECATOMB, we call it a hecatomb. That's spelled h-e-c-a-t-o-m-b. And I know there's enough dictionaries floating around up here to probably fill the room up, so you can check that out. It means a sacrifice. It usually means a sacrifice of an animal. So we'd like you, if you'd like to do that, so people ask you "Have you been to the trial," tell them that you've been down or heard about the hecatomb, because that's what it is. It's a public sacrifice. It's a situation where they're trying to unjustly, illegally try our Chairman.

We look at it as a 1969 manifestation of the Dred Scott Decision. We look at Chairman Bobby as being the manifestation of Dred Scott in 1857. And we look at Judge Hoffman as being a manifestation of Judge Taney in 1857. Because in 1857 Dred Scott was a negro, a former slave--he was still a slave, because we're slaves--who went into court and evidently had some type of misunderstanding about what he was in American society, where he fit in.

So he went to the Supreme Court to have Judge Taney answer him and try to clear up some mistaken ideas that he had floatin' around in his little old head. Ang Judge Taney did just that. Judge Taney explained to him very clearly that, "Nigger, you're nobody, you're property, you're a slave. That the systems--the legal system, the judicial system--all types of systems that are functioning in America today was set up long before you got here, brother. Because we brought you over to make money to keep what we've got going, these avaricious, greedy businessmen, to keep what we've got going, going on."

And Dred Scott couldn't understand this. There was a big rebuttal. And at that time, Judge Taney made a statement that has become famous. And that statement, maybe not in the same words but through actions ant through social practice, is being manifested down at the New reigstag Building at Jackson and Dearborn. It's being manifested through Judge Hoffman by saying the same thing that Judge Taney said in 1857. When he told Dred Scott that "Nigger, a black man in America has no rights which a white man is bound to respect." And that's the same thing that Judge Hoffman is telling our Chairman every day.

And we understand. You know a lot of people have hang-ups with the Party because the Party talks about a class struggle. And the people that have those hang-ups are opportunists, and cowards, and individualists and everything that's anything but revolutionary. And they use these things as an excuse to justify and to alibi and to bonify their lack of participation in the real revolutionary struggle. So they say, "Well, I can't dig the Panther Party because the Panthers they are engrossed with dealing with oppressor country radicals, or white people, or hunkies, or what have you. They said these are some of the excuses that I use to negate really why I am not in the struggle."

We got a lot of answers for those people. First of all, we say primarily that the priority of this struggle is class. That Marx, and Lenin, and Che Guevara end Mao Tse-Tung and anybody else that has ever said or knew or practiced anything about revolution, always said that revolution is a class struggle. It was one class--the oppressed--those other class--the oppressor. And it's got to be a universal fact. Those that don't admit to that are those that don't want to get involved in a revolution, because they know that as long as they're dealing with a race thing, they'll never be involved in a revolution. They can talk about numbers; they can hang you up in many, many ways, but as soon as you start talking about class, then you got to start talking about some guns. And that's what the Party had to do.

When the Party started to talk about class struggle, we found that we had to start talking about some guns. If we never negated the fact that there was racism in America, but we said that when you, the by-product, what comes off of racism, that capitalism comes first and next is racism. That when they brought slaves over here, it was to take money. So first the idea came that we want to make money, then the slaves came in order to make that money. That means that capitalism had to, through historical fact, racism had to come from capitalism. It had to be capitalism first and racism was a by-product of that.

Anybody that doesn’t admit that is showing through their non-admittance and their non-participation in the struggle that all they are, are people who fail to make a commitment; and the only thing that they have going for them is the education that they receive in these institutions—education enough to teach them some alibis and teach them that you’ve gotta be black, and you’ve gotta change you name. And that’s crazy.

The minister of education of the Party, Raymond “Masai” Hewitt, and Chief of Staff, David Hilliard, just got back from Africa visiting Eldridge Cleaver. And they said niggers over there never will be wearing the type of garb that some of these Africanized fools over here wear. They’re wearing rags or either they’re wearing nothing. And if you want to dress like some African people, then you oughta dress like the Angolans or the people in Mozambique. These are the people that are doing something. You need to dress like people that are in liberation struggles. But nah, you don’t want to get that Africanized, because as soon as you have to dress like somebody from Angola or Mozambique, then after you put on whatever you put on, and it can be anything from rags to something from Saks fifth Avenue, you got to put on some bandoliers and some AR-15’s and some 38’s; you’ve got to put on some Smith and Wessons and some Colt 45’s, because that’s what they’re wearin’ in Mozambique. And any nigger that runs around here tellin’ you that when your hair’s long and you got a dashiki on, and you got bubus and all these sandals, and all this type of action, then you’re a revolutionary, and anybody that doesn’t look like you, he’s not—that man has to be out of his mind.

Because we know that political power doesn’t flow from the sleeve of a dashiki. We know that political power flows from the barrel of a gun. And that’s true. It has to be true. We know that in order to be able to talk about power, that what you’ve got to be able to talk about is the ability to control and define phenomena and make it act in a desired manner. That means that if you can’t control and define phenomena and make it act in a desired manner, then you don’t even have any dealings with power, you don’t know and you probably never will know what power is. And we know what power is, and we know who’s doing harm to the people—the enemy.

And everybody wants to talk about…the pork chops will tell you in a minute “The pigs don’t want you to get black. They don’t want you to get no black studies programs. They don’t want you to wear dashikis. They don’t want you to learn about the motherland and what roots to eat of the ground. They don’t want that—because as soon as you get that, as soon as you go back 11th century culture, you’ll be alright.”

Check the people who went back to 11th century culture. Check the people that are wearing dashikis and bubus and think that that’s going to free them. Check all of these people, find out where they’re located, find out the addresses of their office, write them a letter and ask them if in the last year how many times their office been attacked. And then write any Black Panther Party, anywhere in the United States of America, anywhere in Babylon, and ask them how many times the pigs have attacked them. Then when you get your estimation of both of them, then you figure out what the pigs don’t like. That’s when you figure out what the pigs don’t like.

We’ve been attacked three times since June. We know what pigs don’t like. We’ve got people run out of the country by the hundreds. We know what pigs don’t like. Our Minister of Defense is in jail, our Chairman is in jail, our Minister of Information’s in exile, our Treasurer, the first member of the Party, is dead. The Deputy Minister of Defense and the Deputy Minister of Information, Bunchy, Alprentice Bunchy Carter, and John Huggins from Southern California, murdered by some pork chops, talking about a BSU program. We know what the pigs don’t like.

We said nobody would shoot a Panther but a pig, because Panthers don’t pose a threat to anybody but pigs. And if people tell you that Panthers pose threats, then ask them what kind of sense it would make, unless it’s to get up at 5 o’clock in the morning to feed somebody’s son and then at 3 o’clock that afternoon shoot him—save a meal. We don’t need to do that. What sense does it make for us to open up a free health clinic where the only prerequisite that you got to have to receive free medical aid is the prerequisite that you be sick. And we’ve got students who jiving themselves and running around playing, talking about they doin’ something for the struggle, and I want to know what more could you do? And you all people come from Chicago.

People talking about the Party co-opted by white folks. That’s what that mini-fascist, Stokely Carmichael said. He’s nothing but a jackanapes. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a jackanapes, cause I’ve been knowing him for years, and that’s all he could be, if he go around murder-mouthin’ the Black Panther Party.

If we’re co-opted by white people, then check the locations of our offices, our breakfast program, our free health clinic is opening up probably this Sunday at 16th and Springfield. No does everybody know where 16th and Springfield is at? That’s not in Winnetka, you understand. That’s not in Dekalb. That’s in Babylon. That’s in the heart of Babylon, Brothers and Sisters.

And that free health clinic was put there because we know where the problem is at. We know that black people are most oppressed. And if we didn’t know that, then why the hell would we be running around talking about the black liberation struggle has to be the vanguard for all liberation struggles? If there’s ever going to be any liberation in the mother country, ever gonna be any liberation in the colony, then we got to be liberated by the leadership of the Black Panther Party and the black liberation struggle. We don’t negate that fact.

We’re not hung up in anybody’s not a Panther. We don’t want to get you thinkin’ that, because we can dig Fred, I mean Everett, we can dig him. But we can’t dig Ron Karenga and LeRoi Jones. We can’t dig that. We can’t see any social practice on the part of them Brothers. We know that they both have names longer than my arm. And both of them supposed to be so intelligent and so smart. And that’s the problem right now.

We’re talking about destroying the system, and they have hang-ups doing that because they’re constantly buying property within the system. And it’s kind of hard to burn up on Tuesday what you bought last Monday. Because they’re a bunch of unrepentant capitalists. They’ll never repent. And they know better. We try to make excuses for them—“Maybe they’ll have to go through stages, Fred.” No, that’s not it. Because they’re much older than we are—I’m 21. We’re all young. So stages, they don went through them. Ron Karenga has more degrees than a thermometer. That’s right, he has more degrees than a thermometer and he continues to do what he’s doin’. And how do they fool you? Because they pick the leaders they want. And they put those people up there and portray them as being your leaders when, in fact, they’re leaders of nobody.

…we call the oppressed apologists. Because after something’s happened, all they can do is apologize for it. Look in the papers. Now they’re drawing pictures of the Chairman chained and gagged. Don’t you know that if the news media, the established press, had moved before this, that they could have stopped this rising tide of fascism years ago. But they endorsed, they joined, they supported what fascists were doing at the time. And now it’s being heaped down upon all of the people.

And a lot of people think now that their hands are getting dirty. We call them ideological servants of United States fascism. And that’s what they are, because they serve fascism by doing nothing about it until the law goes over and then they apologize for it, they get apologetic. But we say it’s the same press that we’ll look at and believe and think is bona fide; the same press that talked us into believing that we was somebody when in fact we were nobody.

I don’t think there’s anything more important. I think that what Malcolm says is important. Now think back. Those students were laughing at Malcolm. Can you dig it? They were laughing at Malcolm. Why? Regis Debray, he says the revolutionaries are in the future. That militants and pork chops and all these people, radical students, are in the present, and that most of the rest of the people try to remain in the past. That’s why when somebody comes that’s in the future of a lot of us can’t understand him. And the same thing that you don’t understand Huey P. Newton now, you didn’t understand Malcolm when he was living. But we know that when Malcolm left, the well almost ran dry. You don’t miss the water til the well runs dry, and it almost ran dry.

Huey P. Newton got to reading, and he’s not like a lot of us. A lot of us read and read and read, but we don’t get any practice. We have a lot of knowledge in our heads, but we’ve never practiced it; and made any mistakes and corrected those mistakes so that we will be able to do something properly. So we come up with like we say more degrees than a thermometer, but we’re not able to walk across the street and chew gum at the same time, because we have all that knowledge but it’s never been exercised, it’s never been practiced. We never tested it with what’s really happening. We call it testing it with objective reality. You might have any kind of thought in your mind, but you’ve got to test it with what’s out there. You see what I mean?

They talked us into buying candy bars and throwing the candy away and eating the wrapper. They’re the only people in the world, you understand, that’s right, that can sell ice boxes to Eskimoes. They can sell natural wigs to niggers that’s got natural hair already. And see, this is a shame. They can sell a one-legged man probably 24 tickets in a asskicking contest, and he knows he has no business being there. See, these are the things they can do to us and then they have us believe that what they’re tellin’ us is right, it’s bona fide, it’s justified. We say that’s wrong, that’s incorrect, that Malcolm, when he spoke to students, and you probably heard that record, he speaks to some Jews, some slick people, and he told them.

You might say, “Well, the way I feel, people ought to be able to walk around naked because rape is love.” That’s idealism. See what I mean? You’re dealing in metaphysics. You’re dealing in subjectivity, because you’re not testing it with objective reality. And what’s really wrong is that you don’t go test it. Because if you test it, you’ll get objective. Because as soon as you walk out there, a whole lot of objective reality will vamp down upon your ass and rape you of whatever you have. So whenever this happens, this is when people get a whole lot of mistaken ideas. That’s why a lot of you can’t understand and can’t agree with a lot of what we said. You’ve never tried it.

You don’t know whether people relate to the breakfast program, because you’ve never fed anybody. You don’t know anything about the free health clinic because you never asked anybody. You don’t know anything about the good that a gun does you, because you never tried one. And we say that if you was born and if you said you didn’t like pears and you never tasted pears, you’d have to be a liar. You don’t know whether you like pears, but you can’t claim that you don’t like pears. The only way that anybody can tell you the taste of a pear is if he himself has tasted it. That’s the only way. That’s the objective reality. That’s what the Black Panther Party deals with. We’re not metaphysicians, we’re not idealists, we’re dialectical materialists. And we deal with what reality is, whether we like it or not.

A lot of people can’t relate to that because everything they do is gagged by the way they like things to be. We say that’s incorrect. You look and see how tings are and then you deal with that. We runnin’ around talking about “We gonna love all black people. We have an undying love for all black people.” And you know what? That if Malcolm came back, he’d walk pas a million Klansmen to get to Stokely and whoop his motherfuckin’ ass. Because Malcolm was standing right like this in a room, where white people weren’t even allowed. You hear me? They wouldn’t allow no white people in there. But Malcolm’s dead. Now what happened? What’d that fool’s name, James Whitmore. Didn’t he do his little skin?

Because they had names with 37X, 15X, blacker than black, and they were able to sneak in because of this ignorant potient #9 that these maniacs are trying to whoop on us—“We gonna love all black people because every Negro is a potential black man.”

The man that testified against Chairman Bobby in the Conspiracy Trial down in Chicago was a black man. The man that has Chairman Bobby on a murder trial in Connecticut is a black man. The man who murdered Malcolm X is a black man. The judge that denied Eldridge Cleaver bond after a white man had granted him bond—a nigger who investigated on his own and said, “Nigger, I don’t think you ought to be on the street,” was a black man, Thurgood Marshall, Thurgood NOGOOD Marshall, that the NAACP put in. That’s one of the things about sittin’ in and dyin’ in and waitin’ in and cryin’ in got us. If Thurgood Marshall hadn’t been there, then Eldridge Cleaver would probably still be here with the people.

He’s a nigger, a bootlicker, a tonto, a jackanapes. You understand? Goin’ “I don’t think you should be on the streets.” And we runnin’ around lettin’ niggers tell us we got to love all black people.

You heard about the conspiracy trial on the West Side that they were able to win, with Doug Andrews and Fat Crawford, when they had the big burn on the West Side in the Martin Luther King riot? Ask ‘em! Brothers, what’s wrong with you, Brothers and Sisters? Ask ‘em was that a white man. No! Because Doug and them they criticized us for our liberal stand. They call it liberal. So they let nobody in their hood but black people. But they didn’t know. Anybody ever hear about Gloves on the South Side of Chicago? He’s not white. [Glove Davis was later on one of the Chicago policemen that participated in Fred’s assassination.] Did you think Buckney was white? Buckney, who’s taking all of your Brothers and all of your little Sisters and all of your little cousins and nephews, and he’s gonna continue to take ‘em. And if you don’t do anything, he’s gonna take your sons and your daughters. And a lot of niggers is going to school now trying to make a name. We don’t hear nobody running around talking about “I’m Benedict Arnold, III,” because Benedict Arnold’s children don’t want to talk about they his children. You hear people talking about they might be Patrick Henry’s children—people that stood up and said “Give me liberty or give me death.” Or Paul Revere’s cousin. Paul Revere said, “get your guns, the British are coming.” The British were the police.

Huey said “Get your guns, the pigs are coming.” Same thing. There’ll be a lot of Newtons running around. A lot of your kids will be calling themselves Huey P. Newton, III. They won’t be calling themselves Ooga-Booga or Karangatang Karenga, or Mamalama Karenga—none of that shit. They won’t be calling themselves that. You see, ask the pigs in California. Ask them! You see that? Hand me one of them posters, Brother. The one right there. Now if you think I’m lying, look at this. Take a look at this. Now all you Sisters here, tell me what looks better—a nigger runnin’ around in a robe and a staff pole, lookin’ like Moses, or these bad—these are the baddest lookin’ …. You might think, you might say you’re chauvinistic, organizational chauvinistic you might call it. You might call me wrapped up in the Party’s own ego. But I’m wrapped up in the truth. And I think the Sister can verify that these are the baddest. These are the movie stars for Babylon, Godamnit. Huh? Fuck John Wayne and all this other shit.

Alright. But you see, if you look at that, that’s what we look good in. We don’t care if niggers wear dashikis. You understand? That’s not gonna mean anything in the final analysis. But we’re saying that you need some tools.

You ever had the occasion to have a doctor come to your house, or a plumber comes to your house? Suppose a plumber came to your house, he opened up his bag and he had stethoscopes and thermometers and hypodermic needles and syringes. You’d say “You came to fix the plumbing? Brother, you got the wrong tools. Something suspicious is going on because you don’t even have the proper tools.” Ain’t that right?

Suppose somebody came to deliver your baby and he had plumber's tools? I know you Sisters would scream bloody murder. No but you’d say, “This is not right, Brother. We can’t have this. You got to, you understand, you gotta come a little easier, you got to show me something better. You got to have some tools that are more appropriate for the occasion, you understand, because I don’t have any runny faucets or anything.”

So when people come into our community with tanks, when they come into Babylon or Warsaw, or whatever you want to call it, like they did into Henry Horner Projects—and that’s a manifestation of, a very clear manifestation of what’s happening in Babylon. When they do that, when they come in there with tanks and those tanks are tools, those tanks are tools of war, they’re declaring war on the community. And if you, when they come into the community with tanks, you come out with dashikis and nothin’ but dashikis, bubus and nothin’ but bubus, sandals and nothing but sandals, then you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people. You’d better go back in the house, if you have to strip buck naked, if you got to get asshole naked, put you on even if it ain’t nothing but a holster and a gun and some ammunition. Take your bear ass, you understand, and they won’t consider you being naked. Nobody will try, you understand, to whistle at you, or anything. Cause this will be gone from the minute …any kind of sexual attraction you had will be gone. Cause they will be looking at Mr. and Mrs. Colt .45, Mr. and Mrs. .357 Magnum. And the shapes on them are the best shapes we have in Babylon to deal with. And you Brothers holdin’ a .357 Magnum in your hand, there ain’t nothin’ that feels like a .357 Magnum, except one of these beautiful black Sisters. But we need them.357 Magnums also.

When we go out there, we’ll be able to protect ourselves. Huey P. Newton issued a mandate a long time ago. It was executive Mandate #3. It said we need to draw the line of demarcation. And when pigs move on our cribs, we have to protect our crib with gun force. Pigs don’t move on Panther cribs. When they move on Panther cribs, they make sure the Panther’s out of town. We had a situation where they moved on a Panther crib and they had three helicopters above his crib. I’m serious, I’m serious. See, they come prepared. Because they know when they comin’ to a Panther’s crib that we might talk a lot of rhetoric, but we deal with the same basic jargon that the people in Babylon deal with. It takes two to tango, motherfucker. As soon as you kick that door down, I have to kick it back to you. We don’t lock our doors. We just get us some good guns and leave them motherfuckers open and when people come in there we put something on them that will make them go to the hardware, buy a lock, come back, pull the door closed, lock it and stay their ass outside!

We’re gonna move as quickly as we possibly can for the people with the questions and answers and the people with the guilt syndrome and the people that have been embarrassed and shamed and disgraced. And we’ve talked about their leaders like LeRoi Jones and Mamalama Karangatang Karenga, a big bald-headed bazoomie as far as we’re concerned. That’s what he is. And we think that if he’s gonna continue to wear dashikis, that he oughta stop wearin’ pants. Cause he’s look a lot better in miniskirts. That’s all a motherfuckin’ man needs in Babylon that ain’t got no gun, and that’s a miniskirt. And maybe he can trick his way out of somethin’. Cause he not gonna shoot his way outta nothin’. He won’t fight temptation, but he never killed anybody but the Black Panther member. Name somebody. Name me a time you read about Karangatang’s office being attacked. The only time he ever had the occasion to use a gun was on Alprentice Bunchy Carter, a revolutionary. This Brother had more revolutionary poetry for a motherfucker than anybody. Revolutionary culture. John Huggins. The only time they lifted a gun was against these people.

As Huey says in prison when they lifted their hands against Bunchy and when they lifted their hands against John, they lifted their hands against the best that Babylon possesses. And you should say that. You should feel anytime when revolutionary Brothers die. You never heard about the Party going around murdering people. You dig what I’m saying? Think about it. I’m not even gonna tell you. You think about it for yourself.

We started the Black Panther Party in 1966. I’m gonna tell you the whole story in a minute. We started dealing with pigs. You think we scared of a few karangatangs, a few chumps, a few male chauvinists? They tell their women “Walk behind me.” The only reason a woman should walk behind a faggot like that is so she can put his foot knee deep in his ass.

We don’t need no culture except revolutionary culture. What we mean by that is a culture that will free you. You heard your Field Lieutenant talking about a fire in the room, didn’t you? What you worry about when you got a fire in this room? You worry about water or escape. You don’t worry about nothin’ else. If you say “What’s your culture during this fire?” “Water, that’s my culture, Brother, that’s my culture.” Because culture’s a thing that keeps you. “What’s your politics?” Escape and water. “What’s your education?” Escape and water. When people ask us about our culture, we say our culture’s guns, baby. Our culture’s revolutionary art, like that. And when you see those two Brothers who picked up them guns and went out into Babylon in ’66 when a lot of us were scared to do anything except lock ourselves up in the closet and listen to Coltrane—ain’t that something for woopin’ a motherfucker’s ass. And this turned us on and this made us black enough that we were bad. Then this made us black enough to get out and launch a blanket indictment at the murder-mouthin’ rest of the black people. Nigger, you ain’t got no natural. Nigger, how come your name ain’t changed? Ask the pigs in California. Ask ‘em. “Who do you fear most? Ron Mamalama Karenga, or Huey P. Newton, who is named after a demagogic, lyin’ politician, Huey P. Long?” And pigs don’t care about that. Because you don’t have to call, if your shotgun’s a Browning, you don’t have to give it no African name, because believe me, it shoots the same. You understand? It shoots the same….

Changing your name is not gonna change our set of arrangements. The only thing that’s gonna change our set of arrangements is what’s gotten us into this set of arrangements. And that’s the oppressor. And it’s on three stages, we call it the three-in-one: avaricious, greedy businessmen; demagogic, lyin’ politicians; and racist, pig fascist, reactionary cops. Until you deal with those three tings, then your set of arrangements will remain the same. The only difference will be that you’re still under fascism, but instead of Fred being under fascism, I’ll be Oogabooga under fascism. But I’ll feel the same. Instead of me goin’ to the gas chamber, I’ll go to an African section of the gas chamber. We so Africanized over here that if Africans came over here, you’d have to give them a catalogue to find out what the fuck they were buyin’. That’s right, you’d have to give them a catalogue to find out what the fuck they were buyin’. You got posters and pictures and names, we’re namin’ things and namin’ ourselves names they never even heard of. And we call ourselves Africanized. And ain’t that somethin’? You understand?

If you’re racist, let me tell you somethin’. Or if you’re a reactionary nationalist. White folks run it. Go to south Africa and ask ‘em. Go ahead. If you want an example of cultural nationalism, the best one I can give you is Papa Doc, Duvalier. In Haiti, all the black people, “We need some black-ness” Papa Doc��naw, Duvalier said “Right on, we need some blackness. Let’s get all the white folks out of here.” Got all the white folks out, and now he’s oppressing all the black folks. When the black folks complain about it, he says, “Well, godamn; what you all complainin’ about now? I’m black. I can’t do nothin’ wrong brother. We already qualified that.” That’s why these apologists like Wesley South come on the air, and to rap that sophistry that the Sister was talkin’ about. Talkin’ about, they’re ballyhooing, really. Just rappin’ about nothin’ because they’re jackanapes in our community allowed to remain there only because of their skin complexion. And we ought to drive them out. Think about it.

You’ve got Bobby Seale chained and gagged at the Federal Building. You’ve got James and Michael Soto who was murdered in two days. By the way, for all you white folks who claim you’re radicals, that claim you’re gonna support the Party. We move in and we’re saying that there’s no better, there’s no higher Marxist than Huey P. Newton. Not Chairman Mao Tse-Tung or anybody else. We’re saying that unless people show us through their social practice that they relate to the struggle in Babylon, that means that they’re not internationalists, that means that they’re not revolutionaries, truly Marxist-Leninist revolutionaries. We look at Kim Il Sung. We look at Comrade the Marshall, Marshall Kim Il Sung of Korea as towering far and high above in his social practice as Mao Tse-Tung. If you can relate to that, cool. If you can’t relate to that, walk out with your as picked clean like the chickens do, you dig? If you can’t relate to that. And we’re tellin’ you that.

And you motherfuckers who think you’re so radical that you’re trying to radicalise everything in Washington. And I don’t know what the fuck you could radicalise, because you ain’t gonna do nothing but walk between the bodies of two dead men, Lincoln and Washington. And I know you’re not gonna stand up and gain no redress. And there’s just as much chance for Nixon giving you some redress. If you can’t get 200,000 people to march on Washington for something that’s in Vietnam, why the fuck can’t you get 200,000 people to come to Jackson and Dearborn, the Federal Building, and march for the Chairman of Babylon, the man who did more for Babylon, and more for Vietnam than you marchin’ maniacs will ever do. Because you’re not doin’ nothin’ for nobody but Florsheims and Stetsons or Stacy Adams and anybody else, because you’re gonna wear your soles out—your metaphysical souls and the soles on your shoes. And we say if you can’t relate to that, then fuck you.

Because our line’s been consistent. We know the Marxist-Leninists. People who might not want to dig on it, they say Marxist-Leninist they don’t curse. This is something we got from slave masters. We know niggers invented the word motherfucker. We wasn’t fuckin’ nobody’s mother. It was the master fuckin’ people’s mothers. We invented the word, you dig? We relate to that. We Marxist-Leninist niggers, and we some Marxist-Leninist cussin’ niggers, and we gonna continue to cuss, godamnit. Cause that’s what we relate to, that’s what’s happening in Babylon. That’s objective reality. Don’t nobody be walkin’ around in Babylon spoutin’ out at the mouth about a whole lot of academic bullshit, intellectually masturbating, catching diarrhea of the mouth. We say to those motherfuckers if you want to catch a mouth disease, you come and talk that shit in a community where the Panthers are at, and you’ll get a mouth disease alright. You’re gonna get hoof-in-mouth; Panther hoof-in-mouth. So if you radicals can’t relate to that, then fuck you, because we know what Chairman Bobby did for the struggle.

And we know that the people in Vietnam, they know that peace, just like Huey P. Newton tells about our motto, that we are the advocates of the abolition of war. We do not want war, but we understand that war can only be abolished through war. That in order to put down the gun, make a man get rid of the gun, it’s necessary to pick up a gun. And you motherfuckers that’s for peace in Vietnam, the Black Panther Party is for victory in Vietnam. We say that they’re aggressors, they’re a bunch of lackey running dogs, that they’re imperialists. They’re a bunch of Wall Street warmongers. And they need to be driven out of there.

And the only way that the liberation of the oppressed people Vietnam or the oppressed people of Babylon’s freedom can be founded, it has to be founded on the land that is fertilized by the bones and blood of these aggressive pig dogs that come into our communities and occupy our communities like troops occupy a foreign territory and go into Vietnam and fight and struggle relentlessly against the people in Vietnam to have a right to self-determination. We don’t care whether anybody likes it or not. That’s our line. It’s a Marxist-Leninist line. It’s consistent. It’s going to remain that way, and it’s been that way.

If you can’t get 200,000 people to come see about Bobby, then we say you’re counter-revolutionary. That what you’re doing is you’re taking some kind of route from DeKalb where you’re going to get to Vietnam without even passing the Henry Horner Projects on the West Side of Chicago. That’s impossible. You think Vietnam is bad? Check the laws. In Vietnam if you lose one son they allow you to keep the other one. They say, “Here, mother dear, hold him—hold him tight.” He can stay at home, you understand. If you have two in there and one dies, they’ll ship him back. They’ll ship him back and get him out of the war where there’ll be no chance of him dying, because “Miss, this war is not going to take both of your sons.” And then you’re marchin’ on this cruel war in Washington, all you radicals, and what about Mrs Soto, who lost two sons in one week? That proves to us through historical fact that Babylon is worse than Vietnam; we need to have some moratoriums on the black community in Babylon and all oppressed communities in Babylon.

And Charles Jackson, from Altgeld Gardens. Last week a 14-year-old boy throwing rocks. The pigs told him to halt, and the motherfucker shot and murdered him. Murdered him in cold blood. And then you motherfuckers got the nerve to go tramping off to Washington, marching between two dead motherfuckers. The Panther Party is going to criticize you motherfuckers. We gonna criticize you out open because we believe in mass revolutionary criticism. We’re gonna tell you that you’re wrong, because we done had a lot of criticism levelled at us for fucking around with you. You will either be part of the problem or you’re gonna be part of the solution. And if we find out you motherfuckers is part of the problem, we’re gonna start turning the guns on you crazy motherfuckers.

We’re gonna have some questions and answers. We’re gonna do one thing, too. And this is another thing out of sight to show the people where we come from. We come from Babylon. The Black Panther Party’s ran solely by black people. If you get a chance—I don’t think it’s gonna be this Sunday, but we taped this Sunday and shown next Sunday, I’m almost sure. It’s gonna be taped this Sunday and shown next Sunday. There’ll be a big round table discussion that’s gonna be on “For Blacks Only”, any you can check the thing and see what it is. And either myself or Chaka will be there. We’ll be presenting the Black Panther Party. And if you get a chance, why don’t you look at it.

If you wanna do something for me, we’d like to do something for Chairman Bobby, if you just clap your hands for me. This is what we call—you don’t have to clap to loud—this is what we call the people beat. It’s a beat that was started in 1966 by Huey Newton and Bobby Seale. It’s a beat that never stops because it’s the beat they got because they knew it couldn’t be stopped. It’s the beat that manifested in you, the people. Chairman Bobby Seale says that as long as there’s black people, there’ll always be the Black Panther Party. But they never can stop the Party unless they stop the beat. As long as you manifest the beat, we can never be stopped. You think the beat is dangerous? We know it’s dangerous. Because when the beat started out on the West Coast, the chief pig out there, Mafioso Alioto, said to the rest of his people that helped him with his fascism out there, he said, “Listen to those people beat. Hey, they’re beating much to fast. Why don’t they go back home where they belong.” When that beat started last November a year ago in Chicago, Illinois, at 2350 W. Madison, when me and Chaka and Bobby Rush and Che and some more Brothers and Jewel got together and said we’re gonna start a Black Panther Party right here. Because this is part of Babylon; the Party exists tight here too. That we might be in school now, might think we’re on the mountain top, but we’re gonna come down to the valley, because people in the valley, commitment’s in the valley, oppression’s in the valley, aggression, repression, fascism, all exists in the valley. No matter how nice it might be on the mountain top, we’ve got a commitment, so we’re going back. We got to go back to the valley.

And when we did that, even Daley and Hanrahan and Judge—we call him Adolph Hitler Hoffman—the chief fascist who knows the art of tapista, the art that Mussolini was supposed to have mastered. We say that Hoffman is better at the art of tapista than Mussolini ever was, because we know what the art of tapista is: it’s an art of good timing. And when we started that beat, Judge Hoffman and Mayor Daley and hammerhead Hanrahan said, “Hey, listen to the people. It’s Chicago beat. Politically they are even beating beating much too fast. Why don’t they go back home?” To live with all black people where they belong, to live in dashikis and bubus and to be porkchop nationalists and cultural nationalists. Why don’t they go back home to thinkin’ what you’re wearin’ is going to change you? Why don’t they go back to “Political power flows from the sleeve of a dashiki.” And we said, No!” As long as that beat continues, we continue, because it gives us in the Party a type of intoxication, that it let’s us understand… we’re so revolutionary proletarian intoxicated that we cannot be astronomically intimidated.

Don’t worry about the Black Panther Party. As long as you keep the beat, we’ll keep on going. If you think that we can be wiped out because they murdered Bobby Hutton and Alprentice Bunchy Carter and John Huggins, you’re wrong. If you think that because Huey was jailed the Party’s gonna stop, you see you’re wrong. If you think because Chairman Bobby was jailed the Party’s gonna stop, you see you’re wrong. If you think because they can jail me you thought the Party was gonna stop, you thought wrong. Because they can “Rage”, Eldridge Cleaver out of the country…you’re wrong. Because we said it before we left and we said it today. That you can jail a revolutionary, but you can’t jail the revolution. You can lock up a freedom fighter like Huey P. Newton, but you can’t lock up freedom fighting. You might hire some pork chops like Mamalama to murder Alprentice Bunchy Carter, a liberator, but you can’t murder liberation, because if you do, you come up with answers that don’t answer, explanations that don’t explain, conclusions that don’t conclude.

We say that if you dare to struggle, than you dare to win. If you dare not to struggle you don’t deserve to win. We wouldn’t go into the ring with Muhammad Ali and not fight and wonder why we lost, would we? If you don’t fight, then you don’t deserve to win. If you don’t move on these fascists, then you’re crazy. We say it’s no longer a question of violence or non-violence. We say it’s a question of resistance to fascism or non-existence within fascism. We say let’s stop the war in Vietnam. Let’s stop it by acquiring victory for the spirit of Ho Chi Minh. We say let’s stop the war in Babylon. Let’s initiate the decentralization of the police….

The only real thing is the people, because pigs bite the hand that feeds them and they need to be slapped. And like Chaka said, when you catch them in you’re house, hit ‘em with anything. You shouldn’t argue about whether to hit ‘em with a chair or a table, because they’re out of order from the start. We say that the oppressor—fuck Judge Taney—the oppressor has no rights which we, the oppressed, are bound to follow.

If you get a chance, come see about Bobby. You oughta come see about Bobby because Bobby came and saw about you. You oughta come see about Bobby because in 1966, when we didn’t even think we were important enough to protect ourselves, Bobby and Huey got their guns and went into the community. They left college. They where pre-engineer students, that was Bobby, and Huey was a pre-law student. And what they read they put into practice. You oughta come see about Bobby because Bobby came and saw about you. I’m gonna see about Bobby and if you have anything to say you’ll come see about Bobby. Come down to Jackson and Dearborn and see about our Chairman, because he’s the Chairman of Babylon. He’s the father and the founder of the breakfast programs and the free health clinics, and there’s nothing wrong, nothing in the world wrong with that.

All power to the people. Northern Illinois power to the people that go here to Northern Illinois University.

We say that we need some guns. There’s nothing wrong with guns in our community, there’s just been a misdistribution of guns in our community. For one reason or another, the pigs have all the guns, so all we have to do is equally distribute them. So if you see one that has a gun and you don’t have one, then when you leave you should have one. They way we’ll be able to deal with things right. I remember looking at T.V. and I found that not only did the pigs not brutalize the people in western days, they had to hire bounty hunters to go arrest them. They shoot somebody with no intention of arresting them. We need some guns. We need some guns. We need some force.

Thank you. I’m going to call Chaka end Sister Joan back up here to deal with any questions that you want answered, because we have plenty of time to spend; we don’t have any time to waste. As the sister said, “Time is short, let’s seize the time.”

Thank you.

[avalindin]

You'd be surprised

Freddie Page fic

Chapter 6: Act like a woman should

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Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

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“Can’t I open them yet?!”

“Not yet. Careful of the ice.”

“You careful of the damn ice, Lorraine. You’re the one pregnant!”

“Alright, alright. Open!”

Dorothy opened her eyes to the beautiful upstate museum that their mother and father used to take them to before everything went to shit. She turned to her sister in tears and flung her arms around her despite her growing stomach.

“Come on! They have a Monet exhibit!”

Dorothy helped her sister across the warming lobby and shead her coat as she took in all the colors. They were still all so beautiful.

“Wait for me!”

Dottie turned with a smile to help Lorraine from her coat as they waved to the waiting attendant. Her sister wrapped her arm to Dottie’s and pulled her along the start of the paintings. The girls took their time, looking one to one to the paintings their father took them to see when they were younger. The colors beaconed them throughout the museum as the day grew on.

She looked over her shoulder to the guards that would scold her for touching, tempting Lorraine to do it instead.

“Stop it,” Dottie playfully hissed under her breath.

“What are they going to do to me?”

“Arrest you?”

“Never, I don’t fear them.”

“All but Allen?”

“Yeah,” she sighed as she took Dottie’s arm.

Dottie helped her sister to the nearest bench as they sat and looked to Van Gogh’s portrait of the sunflowers. It was simple and it was their father’s favorite one.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“And ruin your birthday?”

“I didn’t know my birthday lasted the whole damn years and a half. How did I not know this?”

“Of all the decent men in the world, she had to choose a monster. You know how we both feel about him but as long as he makes momma happy, does it really matter?”

“It will if I see a bruise on her, Lorraine and that’ll be a goddammit promise.”

“I know.”

“Where they in the city?”

“No, she was home where he wanted it. I burned the invitations months ago.”

Dottie smiled as she took Lorraine’s hand.

“Good.”

“Come on, I saw a soda place down the street from here. Let’s rot our jaws!”

Dottie smiled as she helped Lorraine through the late afternoon waves of people coming in from the cold to the museum. She held on tightly and enjoyed the frigid air as it stung her lungs. The snow had disappeared from most of the sidewalks and whatever was left tried to melt before the temperature would freeze it again. The end of fall rung in the start of the snow and she knew more was just to come.

She looked up at the last second to see the blushing glee in her sister’s as they made the shop. Lorraine was a terrible liar and she knew something was up.

“What?”

“I’m getting a milkshake all for myself,” she yelled as she moved ahead of Dottie.

Dottie followed behind her, pushing her way into a nearly empty shop as Lorraine picked one of the booths near the back. She had barely gotten her coat off when Lorraine had ordered for herself and for Dottie.

“And don’t even think about paying, birthday girl.”

“Is that so,” asked the young man taking their order.

“I’m the older sister.”

“But I’m the one treating,” argued Lorraine as she gave the young man a wink.

He left them alone as Dottie tucked a hair behind her ear.

“I don’t know why you are getting a milkshake. It’s freezing outside.”

“It’s been this way for the past month and I’m eating a fair amount of pickles too.”

“So, did you get the whole menu again. I’m surprised with how much you can put away.”

“Nope. I’m getting something small. Harold is coming back with a cradle I wanted all the way from Georgia. I’m making him dinner.”

“Sounds like I’m spending the night by myself.”

“Nope,” she blushed as she turned her eye up to whatever waiter was on their way.

“Ladies…”

Lorraine took a peppermint stick from the gentleman as Dottie turned her eyes up to Freddie dressed with no suit jacket and a parlor apron tied around his waist. Dottie’s eyes were filled with falling tears as she nearly jumped from her seat and flung her arms around him. The second stick slipped from his fingers as he braced the floor with the heel of his foot to keep himself and Dottie from falling to the floor.

His arm wrapped around her waist as he chuckled into her hair, despite the growing voices and Lorraine’s laughter.

“That couldn’t have been planned better.”

“Thank you, Lorraine.”

“Same to you, Mr. Page. Ta!”

“W-Wait,” called out Dottie through her tears of happiness, “Where are you going?”

“Home. Rupert is taking me home so I can surprise Harold. I’ll be seeing you later.”

“Take care.”

“Wait,” shouted Freddie as he grabbed Lorraine’s pocketbook, “You forgot this.”

“Thanks. Have fun kids.”

Freddie took off his apron and thanked the staff behind him, finally sitting down next to Dottie, keeping her promise of waiting for him as she did for weeks.

-

“Here!”

The sun was starting to set as Freddie helped her from the back of the cab.

“Shame about Rupert. He didn’t even tell me.”

“To be perfectly honest, I never favored his wife. She deserves worse. He only needs time.”

Tom gave the driver fare and was handed a card to be on Freddie’s call when he needed it the for the evening.

“Shall we,” called Freddie as Dottie and the door open and waiting for him.

She smiled from the top step with one of his bags inside the hall.

“Let’s get you back inside!”

“Glad to see me back, Miss Hemminge?”

“As always, Mr. Page.”

Freddie already shed out of his coat and pulled at his tie as Dottie returned with a scotch. He temporarily delayed it as he wrapped his arms around Dottie and twirled her in his arm. She had set her drink down in time as Freddie lifted her away up the stairs and to his room. A chuckle escaped her as her body bounced on the bed with Freddie pulling at his shoes.

“Freddie,” she giggled, “you just got back.”

“I know,” he shrugged as he climbed the bed and pulled her to his chest.

She was surprised to feel him through his trousers but still clothed as he buried his tired breath into her neck. Dottie accepted him as his arm fell perfectly to her waist, forming his legs to hers without flaw. It felt like a dream just to be held by him. She woke in the same bed that morning, using her birthday wish to have him back and now he was with a stirring between his legs and his lips as they pressed to her cheek.

“We’re you surprised?”

“Very much.”

“Splendid,” he smiled as he laced his fingers with hers, “but the night is not over.”

“What night? The sun is starting to set.”

“I know. I only need to rest for right now but I want to take you out.”

“Out. Tonight?”

“Or we can stay here and do whatever you wish. It’s your birthday so it will be your choice.”

“Don’t tell me that. What if I want the circus?”

“Well then,” he huffed as he playfully buried his face into her neck, “I’ll be any animal you wish.”

Dottie laughed as she pushed Freddie off and kissed him.

“You just got back.”

“And I’m yours.”

The sides of her mouth hurt as she smiled.

“Really?”

“Life is short and I want no one else.”

“No pressure,” she whispered as a nervous giggle passed her lips.

“None whatsoever.”

“Then let’s go out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I am. You are back and I want to show the world that you’re mine.”

“Nothing makes me happier than hearing those words. Go get ready. We’ll leave in two hours.”

“Good. I’ll make you something before…”

“No,” he chuckled as he grabbed her wrist, “You said out so that means dinner. I’ll try not to overwhelm you this time. Be sure to look in the box.”

The whole month he was gone and Dottie hadn’t looked into the box. She closed the bedroom door behind Freddie and forced herself to calmly run to the spare room at the end of the hall as she slammed the door shut with so much excitement. Her hands pulled the box from under the bed and flipped the cardboard open as she remembered the blue gown.

Freddie didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until Dottie climbed in the bed with him. He opened his eyes and looked to his watch.

“Oh, Christ. I didn’t mean to sleep this long. I’m so…”

He was at a loss for words as he failed to chuckle away his nervousness to the corset he’d made sure was tucked under the blue gown. Dottie made his mouth water beyond his control as she sat on her knees on the bed next to him, kneeling forward as she batted her eyelashes.

“You are fine. You were tired from being on that boat for days on end. Take your time the night is still young.”

“I may need to ask you to leave the room.”

“Why,” she teased as she leaned further.

Freddie smiled as he wrapped his arm around her waist and flung her in laughter to the bed. Dottie let him bury his head into her neck and grind his pelvis into her own as she wrapped her arms around him.

“No,” sighed Freddie, “I need to call the cab and put on some clothes.”

Dottie groaned as she moved to get back to her room when Freddie stopped her. He smiled down to her as he drug himself up her thigh. She felt a thrill as she felt how hard he was.

“I can’t take you, Dottie, not right now but know that when that door closes when we get back, I may not make it up the stairs with you.”

“Promise?”

“Go. You have until I’m ready or I’ll pull you out in public in what you are dressed in.”

Dottie shimmied from the bed and left Freddie alone. She raced for her dress as she could hear Freddie’s laughter and his stumbling around the bedroom. Dottie tumbled to the floor to scratch the plans for her pantyhose as she slipped on her shoes and applied her lipstick one final time.

“Cab’s here!”

Dottie grabbed the purse from the bottom of the box and raced down the stairs with Freddie close behind her. She tried to look at herself in the mirror one last before Freddie practically picked her up and carried her from the townhouse.

“Freddie, put me down before you break your neck!”

He chuckled, putting her on her feet but not with swatting her on her bottom as she reached the cab.

“Get in birthday girl. We have the whole night ahead of us.”

-

Dottie felt on top of the world as she held Freddie’s arm. She wanted to walk in the lose flakes of snow falling gently and he wasn’t one to say no to her. They walked New York until Freddie announced the last stop for the night. Dinner of roasted chicken and vegetable sat wonderfully in her stomach and his treat of dancing made her smile.

“So where to?”

“I’ve held a place for us at The Iris.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I wanted something familiar for you.”

“I doesn’t seem that way. I was only in there that one night and even then, I wasn’t exactly interested in the décor.”

“All the more reason to bask with the ambiance.”

“Whatever, you say, Mr. Page. As long as you take me for a spin yourself.”

“I will do my best but I must say that I am not one for dancing.”

“My God! You almost had me fooled to thinking that you were a complete gentleman! What would be the proper explanation for this?”

“Well,” he sighed as he wrapped his arm around her waist and stopped her feet from carrying on without him, “That’s because I don’t feel I’ve found the right partner.”

“Well, let’s wish that poor girl good luck when she finally teaches you. Come on.”

Dottie was glad to be inside as she left her coat and clutch with an attendant. She smiled to the eyes of the single and married men alike as they fawned over the blue waves that caressed her curve. Freddie was glad that he hadn’t picked a tighter dress for her, nearly wrangling in all the hungry looks to what was his.

They were seated on the edge of the room in the sea of clamoring and drinking. He hurt him to not spend money on her but he accepted his will to hold back and treat her like a normal woman.

“Bottle of something cheap please,” he told the waiter.

“Is that the best you can do?”

“Bring her a Johnnie Walkie while you look, to keep her distracted.”

Dottie hid her laughter as Freddie pulled her chair closer. She thought he was going to try something clandestine but her arm turned stiff as he held her hand. It made her smile and uncomfortable but he was really trying. They drank their time away, her slumping to his side as she was able to hold his hand more comfortably.

She didn’t mind as the beautiful, flowing atmosphere of the club slowed and dimmed with some of the tables emptying for the night.

“Dorothy.”

“Hmm?”

She turned herself upright as Freddie stayed the same in his chair.

“How slow would you like to take this?”

“What?”

“I was serious when I said that you were the one that I wanted. When you said that you were ready for something no one else wanted to give you, I thought about it to England and back. If I have to sit outside your window and spout sonnets to you, that’ll mean me picking up Shakespeare again but I’ll do it for you.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I want but this,” she grinned as she caressed his knuckle with her thumb, “is nice. I’ve never had something like this.”

“If you want it from me, then it is yours.”

He switched his hands and was about to pull her closer when they were approached by a younger man Freddie had seen eyeing Dottie the least.

“I’m sorry but may I ask for a dance.”

“He doesn’t dance, from what he’s told me so you’ll have to be slow with him.”

Freddie broke out into laughter, holding out his hand for Dottie to accept.

“I’ll still be waiting.”

“Fine.”

Dottie rose from her seat and followed her young gentleman to the middle of the floor. She could feel his nervousness as his hands held her too high. She helped him as she could feel him lok over her shoulder.

“He won’t do anything. Stop worrying.”

“You’re just lucky it was me. The others on the side of the wall were gonna try and get to you first.”

Dottie looked to the group of drinking men with loosened ties and jealous looks in their general direction.

“I bet I know what they’re thinking.”

“A few of them got girls but they wouldn’t know how to properly treat a lady.”

“And you would?”

“Honestly, no, ma’am. I’m too weak to join the Army. Not fit enough, I guess.”

“Don’t sell yourself short like that, hun. How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“You are still young. Work on yourself for a bit then when you decide you are ready, the ladies will be all over you. Promise.”

A smile crossed his boyish face as she was flattered by his blushing in the dimmed lights.

“Let’s say we make them jealous.”

“W-What?”

“What’s your name?”

“Packard Ward but my friends call me Ace.”

“Think of this as training, Ace. I promise not to bite very hard.”

“What about your fella?”

“He chose not to dance.”

Dottie slowed their movements as she felt Ace’s hand tremble. She looked to Freddie as he cocked an eyebrow to her. She nodded to the group of men on the other side of the club and folded his hands to see how much trouble she was about to get herself in.

Dottie reached for his hands and overly corrected so that those who are watching could see. The hand that was too high up her back, she led down past her waist where it should have been to the top of her rear where she straightened his fingers comfortably. She turned his face up to hers, enjoying the terrified look.

“Don’t tell me I have to do all the work, young Ace. Don’t you have a gal?”

“No, ma’am…”

“Enough with the ma’am, hun. I turned 28 today and you can call me, Dottie.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Dottie. I don’t mean to overdo it. My momma raised me proper.”

“There’s not a thing wrong with that.”

“I-I did have someone but she left me for an Army Sergeant.”

“That’s a shame. She left behind a perfect gentleman.”

“Should I be grabbing you like this?”

“Not without a woman’s permission but the more they’re scowling at you, the more you’re doing it right.”

Dottie felt powerful as she danced. Ace was a better dancer than he looked. She led his hands to where she was sure the men grabbed their things and left the club with reddened, angry faces. All that was left was the rest of the close couples, the remaining staff and Freddie as he licked his lips to her.

“Do you think of someone,” Dottie whispered into his ear.

“What do you mean?”

“When you’re alone with that pride between your legs to keep you company?”

“Would you be insulted if I think of you tonight?”

“Only tonight, Ace,” she pushed herself closer as Freddie held himself back, drumming his fingertips on the table, “After that, though, you’ll be all on your own.”

“Pity. What dream woman would want me?”

Dottie pulled his head closer as she teased her lips to his ear.

“She’ll have long curling gold hair that’ll sit over her shoulders. Her lips may be small but they’ll stretch to a beautiful smile when you kiss her.”

“She sounds perfect.”

“Now, now,” she tsked, “Not done yet. Her eyes will be a piercing green when they met yours. You’ll stun her, leaving her speechless with the strapping matured, looks you’ll have in the coming years, no doubt.”

“Thanks.”

“She may be a small thing but she’s be strong enough or her grip will be when she touches you.”

She was startled a little when she felt the tremble of his breath. She bit her lip and inched closer to him, feeling him as they danced. A little trouble wouldn’t have hurt anyone.

“Her voice will tremble when you touch her. She’ll beg for you to take her, knowing she may very well cry out your name when you do. Her chest will heave and your mouth will water, your manhood swelling just for her to take.”

“God…”

“Think about if I was here tonight with no one. You’ll think of her in my place and all the things you would want to do to me. All of the lovely, hidden, unsavory things, Ace. Think of her and all the things you may be capable of once you find the right girl.”

“When I do, I may just invite you to the wedding.”

Dottie laughed a bit louder than she wanted but it was the alcohol and the hands on her body that left a smile that finally sent Freddie from his seat and in their direction.

“I think that’s midnight for us, Ace.”

Ace looked over his shoulder to Freddie buttoning his coat and storming the dance floor as Dottie felt his nervousness.

“Hey, thank you.”

“F-For what?”

“For helping me decide.”

“Decide what?”

“That’s for me to know and my man to find out. You’re a wonderful dancer by the way. Good luck with tonight.”

Dottie kissed his blushing cheek and stepped in front of Freddie as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“What were you planning?”

“To get you out here with me. Did it work?”

“I’m not sure if I should be angry.”

“If I did something to hurt your feelings, then I apologize.”

He clenched her hand and led it to the front of his pant as Dottie felt the hairs rise on her arm. She forced herself not to smile as her fingers wrapped around his straining cock.

“Don’t apologize just yet. What did you do to that poor boy?”

“He’s just young and very well just showed me what I needed.”

“I’m not sure I can compete with youth.”

“Then how about better instinct?”

Dottie spread her legs apart a fraction and rubbed herself on Freddie’s leg. He held her as close as he could bear, ignoring all the other dancing couple around them. They grinded to one another, slowly heaving as Freddie felt he was going to die.

“What are you doing to me, woman?”

“Anything you want. This is what I want, Freddie Page. I want you. All of you but in controlled portions, of course. God knows what would happen if you fully let go on me.”

“Is that all?”

“You want me. I want you. Fast, slow. In every way, Freddie. Can’t you say the same?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “but right now you are ruining this?”

“In what way am I ruining my birthday night?”

Freddie laced his fingers into her long hair and yanked her head back with his lips tracing her neck tenderly.

“I was going to pull you into the cab when we were done here and sit on the other side of the cab, forcing myself down to make sure I didn’t touch you until I got you back to my home. I would have led you up the stairs by the hand and nothing else but when the door to my bedroom closed, oh,” he groaned as he grinded themselves closer together, “I would have pained myself to strip you slowly and torture you with my lips alone until you begged for me to take you.”

“Didn’t you already promise me something like that?”

“No. I’m saving that for something special but tonight, you were right. I think I need you as much as you need me.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“For the song to end, Ms. Hemminge.”

Freddie let her hair go and gently cradled her head as he kissed her lips. Dottie couldn’t refuse or tease him as she felt a slight rumble in her chest. She swayed with Freddie, not caring if his skill as a dancer were true or not. His hands grabbed at her, making her want more as she grinded herself harder on his thigh.

“Fuck…”

“That’s it, Dottie. Just a little more.”

She felt her skin burning, needing his touch, not caring if he took her in the middle of the dance floor.

“Freddie… Please take me…”

“That’s all I wanted to hear. Shall we?”

Dottie could hear her heartbeat in her ears as the ensemble ended and the couple clap for more. Freddie grabbed their things and led her by the hand to the front of the club. His hand felt right comfortably tucked with hers. Her face never hurt so much from an honest smile. They made the final staircase as Dottie stopped. Freddie turned back, wanting to pull her along but read her mind as he pushed her into the nearest wall and claimed her lips. In the state they were in, they didn’t care if the lobby was full of people. They were just lucky it was clear of guests or staff.

Freddie pushed them back to an empty hallway, shadows used for storage as he sat on one of the scattered chairs and pulled her to his lap. His hands were all over her, pulling her dress aside as he kissed and licked at whatever showed itself to her. She whimpered as his fingers curled into her sex with her hips rocking steadily on his hand. Freddie licked at her breasts, teasing her and only making her writhe for making him jealous.

Dottie rode his fingers, needing the ache between her legs to stop. She braced the chair and his chest, not caring if they would be found.

“I’m sorry, Dottie…”

“Don’t me, Mr. Page. Just fucking take me now.”

Freddie undid his pants and pulled them down enough as his straining erection sprang free for her. Dottie moved away for a second, gripping him as she sank to her knees. Freddie wasn’t able to stay a word as she licked him a single time and then wrapped her rouge lips around his cock. His head fell back, his hips shifting a bit to fill Dottie’s mouth with his cock. He took in the moment, licking her arousal from his fingers and wrapping them around her arm to pull her away and back to his lap.

Dottie braced herself as she slid down his waiting cock. A faint gasp escaped her, bringing a smile to his face as Freddie held her close and shifted his hips up. They moved together beautifully, writhing in the dark as the faint club lights failed to find them. Freddie pulled her closer, dragging his tongue from the valley of her breasts to the shell of her ear.

“You are too perfect,” he panted into her ear.

“You too but your patience could use a bit of work.”

Her bit of mischievousness made him want her even more but the condition he was already in was only drawing him closer.

“I’m going to make you fuck me, now, Dorothy, but when we get home, I will make you wait, beg, anything you want.”

She shifted her hips quicker with a grin to her face.

“Promise, Mr. Page?”

“Every God damn time.”

He reached between them, rubbing harshly at her clit as Dottie’s body began to fall back. Freddie wrapped his arm around her waist and thrusted deeper into her. Dottie cried out unexpectedly as her body crashed back to Freddie’s. He held her close and rode out her release as he pulled her away from his lap and shot his seed to the carpeted floor. They gasped and moaned in the darkness as raised voices were heard yelling Freddie’s name in the hall.

“Well, I think I’m about to in trouble for the first time in my life.”

“We better not keep them waiting,” teased Dottie as she fixed their clothes and followed behind him.

They stumbled from the darkness hand in hand, ready to face management and head for home but was met with the coat attendant instead.

“Mr. Page! Everyone’s been looking for you.”

“Has the cab been waiting long?”

“I-It just only got here.”

“What’s wrong?”

Dottie peered around Freddie, meeting the attendant’s gaze as it fixed onto her. Her side immediately twisted with nervousness.

“There’s a message for you, ma’am, from the hospital. Something’s happened.”

-

Dottie ran down the sidewalk with the dress picked up to her shins.

“Dorothy!”

Freddie stayed behind for a brief moment to give the cab driver instructions. The door caught on her coat as she stripped it off and run for the nearest person available.

“I’m looking for my sister, please.”

“Name,” asked a nurse.

“Her name is Lorraine, she-she’s pregnant and she…”

“The mugging?”

“What?”

“There was a man who said he was a driver that found them.”

“Dottie, stop,” said Freddie as he juggled her things and tried to talk to the doctor.

“No. Where is she? Is she okay?”

“We had to put her out. She only had cuts and bruises. The husband didn’t make it. The police will be along in a few hours with the man that called it in.”

Dottie felt the heart drop as Freddie draped her coat around her shoulders. Her skin was on fire and her lungs felt they were going to explode. The attendant at the club hadn’t given them exact detail but that Lorraine was rushed to the hospital

“That man is under my employment. We need to see her.”

“Family only, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Fine. Take her and I’ll talk to the police.”

Dottie couldn’t form any words as tears feel free from her eyes. She was led away as Freddie stayed put.

“I will still be here, Dorothy. I swear. Go on.”

She shook her head and pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders. Freddie kissed her cheek and pushed her forward as she began to follow the medical staff to her sister. She never liked the hospitals ever since her father had died. The rooms were cold then as they were as hall by hall she was led until they all stopped. Dottie failed miserably to hold her tear back as she looked to her sister with her faced bruised and her arm wrapped in bandages.

“Oh my God.”

“Miss Hemminge, you sister will be fine and we’ve checked the baby. Both are well but the husband…”

“Didn’t make it, you already told me!”

She pushed her way into the room, nearly crashing into the hospital bed as Lorraine opened her unswollen eye to her sister. Dottie felt her face wet with dripping tears.

“Lorraine?”

“Oh, Dot. You look so beautiful.”

Her split lip trembled as she tried not to cry.

“F-Freddie’s here with me. What happened?”

Lorraine broke down with her cry as Dottie moved into the bed and pulled her sister into her arms. She didn’t know how much time had passed until they woke the next morning with sunlight flooding the room.

“Dottie.”

She snapped awake and brushed back her sister’s hair. Her face was littered freckles from crying and cuts from whatever happened.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m here.”

“Harold just came in the door with the cradle. It was too beautiful. He forgot to shut the car door and he was about to go outside when they were waiting. Good thing I didn’t have anything on in the kitchen or the whole place would have been up in flames.”

“The police said Rupert found you.”

“I left my purse in his car. He called and said he was turning around. Everything happened so fast. How did this happen?”

Lorraine sobbed into Dottie’s arms as Dottie scolded the nurses away. She didn’t know what to do next as all she could do was hold her sister close and comfort her the best she could.

[elkian]

whats up you memeloving fucks it’s time for more TLP

ch 20: Battle in Blaine

I feel I should point out that in Blastinus’ LP, this is one of the few -if not only- chapters where they had to do separate Plot and Gameplay posts.

I’d also like to mention that Writing is not Blazer’s strongest point.

This is legit part of the first opening lines:

“I assure you the information I have to tell you is important for you to know.” “Although I've already heard this, I feel I should be here to discuss it. This discussion affects all of us, after all.”

riveting

The first segment has, as I roughly estimated, around 1,000 words of dialogue. Then there’s a scene change to the antagonists. Then like four more scene changes. Keep in mind that this is all across dialogue boxes that can hold roughly two lines of 10 total words at a time.

tldr (can’t blame you): I skip the shit out of this part and go straight to play

The map is largely Wyvern Riders, Cavaliers, and Knights, with a few Wyvern Lords and Generals and a Physic Bishop too far removed from the meat of the map to really contribute.

Also, this. The Bloody Rifle is an upgrade to Blazer’s Rifle Bow, basically a Killer Longbow I guess? The problem is that, if you recall, no one in my army has any fucking Skill.

Blastinus’ helpful map. We left a word slog for a literal slog.

Here’s something neat: Halberdiers were introduced officially in FE9, meaning someone took the time to make this exceptionally nice class portrait. Their sprites are pretty obvious, especially in combat, but not bad - just not quite Intsys-like.

Hey, I just realized it skipped over 19x even though I have Rex in my party. Is my game just bugged?

The map is not kind to sword units, and I almost bring Shuuda, but there’s a buttload of Vuleraries and Elixirs for the stealin’

Our ultimate team. Remember Levion’s Dragon Axe way back in our first Kelik chapter? Yeah, it’s Mark’s now.

It says a lot that my Knight is more useful on this godawful slog that a Wyvern Rider is. Karina’s here to decide her benching or not.

this is Yue, almost certainly a Cardcaptor Sakura reference and also responsible for like a third of the 6,000-something words in the pre-chapter. He decides he needs to not only introduce himself fully but also explain why he is introducing himself. Not a great way to enter my good grace, bucko.

Howard, who we (barely) kicked the shit out of two chapters ago, only has two lines of dialogue before finally letting us fight. Also, considering how shitty my cavaliers not named Eduardo are, he’s probably gonna be a staple for a bit.

At the very least, I get a hyper-strong Paladin and an okay Shaman on a long, Wyvern-heavy map. They can make themselves useful, unlike, say, a level 1 shaman and an incredibly shitty Valkyrie on a desert map

Also this dude was in the starting village. (he has 7 Def and 4 Res, pretty okay for a level 8 Fighter.) He comes with a Dragon Axe (and C Support with Mark), too.

Zach hops into the Ballista

also here’s Yue’s stats

Lastly, he has this Amulet, which gives the holder +10 Hit/Avoid. Blastinus doesn’t think it’s worth taking up 20% of a unit’s inventory, but Blastinus isn’t completely Skill-screwed. Seriously, the Shaman has better Skill than like four or five of the units I’m fielding.

please note that if not for the Weapon Triangle, Ed would being doing as much damage with a Sword as these fools are with Lances (and have like +30 on their hit). I love Ed.

not entirely sure about that lime green lining on the bottom, but Yue’s sprite is pretty decent

So. Uh. If that second Wyvern had hit, Ed would be dead. -_-’’’’

this is the start of turn 2, and we’ve killed like two wyverns. You CANNOT rush this chapter - the Wyverns are just strong enough to overwhelm a unit if they pile on.

Kevin: Still awesome.

While everyone else is getting like 15-20 EXP from a kill, Rex is in the 40s. Not bad.

Mark gets our first level of the map, and it’s gorgeous.

does skill even matter when Ed can hit on a 68 but i have consistent misses on 80+?

I don’t think I really looked at Howard’s battle sprite before. It’s not bad, though part of the recolor on the horse’s tail is done wrong and looks off.

I piled like 3 units on this damn Paladin who kept dodging at 1 HP, but Yue, of all people, brings us home. (this is especially surprising because I stupidly sacrificed him trying to make a Nosferatu hit on the guy one loadstate ago)

Emma patches Karina up for a totally acceptable level.

good thing that was the last enemy in range

Anakin Motivates Zach to disappoint me.

Mark revisits his old friend Effective Damage.

So here is a fucking quandry. No one in range of this Wyvern Rider can OHKO them. Karina might be able to with the Killer lance, on a 75% hit chance, but if she fails she dies.

After some agonizing, she trades Zach for his Elixir (and to equip him with the Short Bow) and doesn’t attack. Everyone else in range can take a hit and most can counterattack, so worst case, they’ll go for Althares, who’s sitting at full HP on a fort (and wielding a Lancereaver).

I so want to do this but she would be murdered by all the upcoming enemies.

Howard is a great Panic Button for this mission - he’s not indestructible, but he can be alone for a turn or two without dying.

Oh Fuck(TM) 

fortunately, between Zach’s lightning Speed and the weight of a Steel Lance, he doubles in return, but this was an unpleasant surprise. I’m glad the Wyvern Rider I was worrying about flew off to heal before this.

Zach and Karina double-team the Wyvern Lord (who Zach can double even with a Steel Bow). Karina apparently fears the bench.

So here’s something fun:

Emma, at technically the same level, has more Defense than Howard., Hell, aside from HP/Con/Attack Stat (and, for some reason, luck), She’s better than him in every way. What the hell.

I was gonna Motivate Zach to retreat towards heals before remembering that Anakin could do that. His Magic is so high that just a Heal staff is enough, too.

This rude-ass motherfucker whacks Mark, so Mark procs a goddamn 26 (before True Hit!) to nearly murder him in response.

FUCK

We make this happen again.

but not this :(

rude

Acceptable

I know Ace is on Forest, but look at that hit rate! It’s hilarious!

A GOOD LEVEL

I was trying to soften the Cav up for Lirin but Mark decided to proc both hits for an okay level. He’s getting a lot of mileage on this map - and I have an Animate Seal (basically Master Seal for non-Lord-likes) but I know there’s an Ocean Seal coming up.

I wasn’t expecting Lirin to dodge, so this is already going better than my pre-loadstate (>>)

I’d complain, but Defense. On a Peg Knight.

We put Sai to the test, and he works out rather nicely, landing both adn dodging the counter. I’m ambivalent about his spritework.

I had to reload several times trying to push this segment before finally going the patient route.

Sweet Jesus, that was close.

Sai apparently lives to impress.

So glad i put her on Forest. Cia’s Speed is nearly as hilarious as Ace’s, so she’s a great dodge tank if you place her right.

Even moreso now. What a great level.

That’s adorable

Sadly Sai is not strong enough to one-shot a Wyvern, but give him time.

We all pile on to the Wyvern Rider, with Zach surprisingly hitting on the first Rifle shot to finish it.

We’ve been taking potshots at this Physic Bishop for a while - to the point that he ran off to drink vulneraries instead of use Physic for like three turns - and Inanna finally puts him out of his misery.

I’m glad later FE games thought that Falcoknights should get Staves and Wyvern Rides->Lords Axes->Axes and Lances, cause the whole Sword thing just seems silly to me.

Goddammit Zach

Emma patches Keving up for a nice level. Aside from her frankly terrible luck, Emma is basically untouchable.

hey hey! Ace and Ed can support again! Since Eduardo is only second to Kevin in my physical-units heart, this is fine.

Like so. Ace’s Avoid should only be 45 ((17x2)+11) with the weight of the Javelin, Eduardo’s ((11x2) +12) 34, so both of them are gett +15% Avoid at B-rank. Not to mention Hit, crit, and Dodge

Ow.

Why is this random Knight so fucking strong

I feed Yue the kill for an acceptable level.

Not bad! Love to see some speed, but I’ll take this.

...speaking of strong randos, this cav- which is one of the weakest enemy types in this map - is meeting Sai’s damage despite WTD

Lirin chips at ‘em for a pretty great level, though that Speed is scaring me.

also there was a Secret Shop right above the village, so Inanna’s going shopping

except we can’t afford the one thing I wanted. oh well.

Anakin throws some Motivation at Althares for a pretty great level. Keep on truckin up that Avoid, bro.

lol

oh.

Sai unexpectedly procs a crit for his first level. Not bad for a Fighter, especially since he hasn’t doubled anything on this map.

Karina pokes this (weirdly healthy) Soldier, careful to stay out of Bloody Rifle range.

So Sai can Support with Mark but Mark can’t do the same - I’m guessing that Talk options fall under this menu.

considering my options. That bow weighs in at a whopping 12, so the Sniper can’t actually double Kevin. They can, however, crit him exactly to death.

Ed’s faster but has lower Con and Def, but higher HP and Luck. But that Defense difference means a crit will also kill him.

My best bet is probably luring over the other nearby enemies, then swooping in with high-Move and Motivated units and trying to one-round the bastard.

A Cav was pestering Sai, so I tried to chip em down only for Zach to crit on the first Rifle shot. And apparently he’s realized his precarious position.

----

So I went though.... a LOT of reloads before deciding that maybe I should actually act on that plan to draw out the Sniper’s buddies. They’re surrounded by Wyvern Lords with high-class gear, and I just kept losing Althares and Lirin to focus fire.

It’s kind of funny, because the object of my caution - the sniper with the Bloody Rifle - was NEVER the actual source of a game over.

It may be due to the support with Mark I just grabbed, but I like that Sai has a better hit chance despite the weapon types and WTD. He also dodges.

You know, I totally forgot about his Dragon Axe?

The fucker doubles Lirin with her Javelin disadvantage and misses twice. This particular Wyvern Lord was the source of at least four resets because they kept double-killing Lirin with that fucking sword. I don’t know whether to be pleased or pissed here.

Karina FINALLY proccing a Killer Lance crit almost soothes the pain of her getting no level.

oh, and also this. She has this now.

How did you MISS

Inanna cleans up for a- sigh.

Yue joins the miss club.

A big theme of this map is piling multiple units onto one enemy in order to kill them in one turn, lest they murder a weaker unit. Having such low Skill all around is part of the problem.

Lirin finishes this fucker off for a good level. Maybe now not everything on the map will double her.

So here’s Anakin’s base Avoid stats.

And here he is with the Amulet, in range of Ace, on Forest terrain.

In range of the Bloody Rifle Sniper.

This is the funniest fucking thing

How’s that 21-Damage 12-Crit working for ya

Ed didn’t ACTUALLY need to crit that Wyvern Lord, but he did anyways, because he’s awesome. I love you, Eduardo.

Ace finishes the Sniper for a pretty excellent level

Anakin gets hit on some amazingly low odds and decides it shouldn’t happen again.

can you imagine how sadlarious it would have been if that had hit

And now that it’s our turn again...

Aw yisssss. Look at those stat gains! 3 con! He can use Javelins without his ridiculous Speed going down.

A refreshed Sai brings down a Cav for a mediocre level. I’d like some Skill or Speed in the future, buddy.

good thing we fed Cia all those Robes way back when

you know, this is the second thing we’ve stolen with Althares all map? There’s just too many enemies and too little space to work him.

Zach somehow hits twice and finishes an enemy Halberdier. I wish I could show off the animations; they’re pretty good.

sure

Karina definitely fears the bench.

Sai gets what would be his second Hand Axe crit for... you know, I’m okay with this. He’s actually doubling people now.

Lirin chips at an enemy halberdier for this phenomenal level

Rex does the same, but better. Also, he has more Speed than the Peg Knight, at a lower level. We also grab his and Kevin’s C Rank Support.

Anakin Motivates Yue to actually do something useful, like get a good level. Goddamn.

Also, he still has more Skill than Ace

We’re finally down to the last enemies and the boss. The General has a Spear, and this Bishop actually has a tome, so we’re treading lightly STILL.

Sai borrows Mark’s Hammer.

aw sick

Sai is actually in the Bishop’s range, but not to worry - I park Lirin two spaces above him, blocking him off. Hilariously, Lirin (and Inanna) will only take 1 damage from that Bishop.

Said Bishop couldn’t even double Sai before this level. This Bishop is clearly a healbot.

Zach finishes the job for a decidedly defensive level. Not bad, but look at that fucking Skill! He has more Defense than Skill!

btw, here’s Lirin and Inanna’s stats.

If Lirin promoted right now, she would outdo her sister in everything except Speed and HP, and remember that we gave Inanna like 10 points in HP with stat boosters.

On the other hand, Lirin’s Speed and Con are so abysmal that I’m not sure I should be using her...

the boss, of course, hits like a fucking truck and has a unique 1-2 range weapon.

....and then Sai fucking OHKOs him with a Dragon Axe crit

I... yeah, okay.

Thank you, Sai, for putting this chapter to rest finally.