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kalypsichor · 5 years ago

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five’s a crowd [ beatles x reader ] part seven

summary: You’re not jealous of the fact that girls on Tinder love George, you’re not. John may or may not be sexually attracted to metaphors. Paul may or may not have a professor kink. Ringo is just vibin’ like always. Gigi Hadid terrorizes your dreams. Oh, and y’all finally get the McLennon sandwhich you asked for.

warnings: 2k words of the usual bullshit, some english major bashing, actually it’s just john bashing ( sorry @spaceyantique ), i love english majors, and miscommunication babey!

i’m writing this draft at 3 am. it’s a new low for me. oh, and the poem mentioned in geo’s tinder is lyrics from ‘for you blue’

“Well, it is a flattering picture.”

You have to agree with Ringo. The two of you are perched on the couch, peeking over George’s shoulder at the Tinder profile. John and Paul are sharing the armchair, snickering at something. Probably another scheme. Bastards…

The photo is the one John had snapped a few days ago of George in the kitchen. He’s got this brilliant smile on his face, just having taken his first warm shower in weeks, and he’s gloriously naked from the belly button up. It’s a little blurry, but it captures George’s happiness—though you privately think that no picture could ever really do the boy justice. Take that, stupid Tinder girls.

“‘George.’” Ringo reads the bio out loud. “‘Twenty-one. Majoring in horticultural science, looking for a girl to put the ‘ho’ into it.’ This is terrible,” he says rather gleefully. George turns around and gives his friend a betrayed look.

“You missed the best bit. ‘I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You looked at me, that’s all you had to do.’ What’s that?”

George goes stock still. Slowly, his head turns to John and you swear you can hear it creak like a door hinge.

“You.” The word shakes from his throat with a quiet rage. “You looked through mY DIARY???”

“YOU HAVE A DIARY?” Ringo screeches. Paul has the common sense to look a little frightened, but his boyfriend, who borrows a brain cell from Paul from time to time, does not.

“You write beautiful poetry, George,” John croons, and you have to physically hold George down to keep him from tackling the dumbass. Paul, getting flashbacks to the Shower Debacle, shudders.

You, on the other hand, are trying to wrap your head around the bio. Poetry? About who? That didn’t sound like it was about just anybody. Lucky girl, your mind hisses. Or boy. You immediately try recalling every single time George has brought up a classmate. Your brain sputters a bit and spits out an answer to one of the questions you’d skipped on your first midterm yesterday. Except now it’s fucking useless, isn’t it????

Ringo speaks, bringing you out of your downward spiral into insanity. “Hey, the app says you’ve got a match.”

Frowning, George taps on the notification. “But I haven’t even looked at anyone’s profile.”

“I did you a favor and swiped right a couple o’ times,” John says. George groans—no, the sound does not turn you on a little—and hangs his head forward. By ‘a couple,’ John must’ve meant a couple hundred, because George’s phone is blowing up. The only thing keeping George from hurtling the phone right into John’s smarmy little meerkat grin so hard that he shits pieces of it out for weeks is your hand on him. The warmth of it is radiating out from his shoulder to his chest and sweeping down to his toes. When you take your hand away a few seconds later, thinking it had overstayed its welcome, George has to try very hard not to sigh.

“This one is cute,” Ringo comments. The notification had read ‘Maureen Super Likes You!’ and the phone screen is now showing a pretty brunette, around your age, smiling up at George.

“Yeah, well, I’m not interested.”

He didn’t say she wasn’t cute.

“Wait, wait!” John scrambles out of his armchair, nearly pushing Paul off in the process. George’s thumb pauses where it’s hovering over the ‘delete’ button for the app. “Come on, Geo. You haven’t gone out in years. Like, since high school. Since… since…”

“Pattie,” Ringo says. You and Ringo hadn’t known the other three in high school, but, as always, he was good with names.

Pattie? George has never mentioned a Pattie...

“Yeah, Pattie!” John lights up. You wish people would stop saying her name. “Pattie Boyd. Man, she was a catch… I still remember her blonde hair. And those long legs. She looked like, uh… who’s that model?”

“Bridget Bardot.” Ringo, again.

Paul is mirroring the sour look on your face, though he obviously has a better reason for it.

“No, who the fuck is that? I meant Gigi Hadid. Isn’t that why you dated her?”

“She did not/” George protests. “And no, John, unlike some people, I care about more than just looks.”

At this point, Paul looks as though he’s about to cry. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m more than looks, aren’t I?”

“I didn’t mean you, obviously.” But George’s words are lost under John, who leaps back into the armchair and coos at his boyfriend.

“Macca, you know I love you for more than your looks. You’ve got that big old brain, and you’re the best artist in this whole school… it’s just a bonus you’re so pretty too.”

Paul seems satisfied by this. Stupid fucking English major. John could get anything his way with just a few words.

“John’s right, y’know.” You and Ringo mouth ‘y’know’ at each other and erupt into giggles. “You’ve got to put yourself out there more. You’re in your third year of uni and you haven’t even dated a single person. There’s only one more year before you’re out in the real world! And the sea will be much, much bigger then.”

George scowls, unimpressed by Paul’s little speech. “People aren’t fish, Paul. And I’m vegetarian, so I don’t condone catching them.”

“It’s a metaphor!” Paul cries, throwing his hands in the air. John nods and makes eyes at him as if metaphors were the sexiest thing in the world. He’s probably into that. English majors.

“You tell ‘em, babe.”

The doorbell rings, banishing any homicidal thoughts from your mind.

“That’ll be the takeout,” you say. George flies so quickly to the door, desperate to get out of the situation, that you feel a little gust of wind. You hear him say something to the delivery person and then he’s coming back into the living room, take out boxes in tow and a big smile on his face. Nothing makes the boy happier than food. And maybe leggy blondes that look like Gigi Hadid, your brain suggests, and you sigh.

For a good ten minutes, the conversation is put on hold. You’re all broke college students, after all, and getting Chinese is like a luxury.

“What’d you get?” you ask through a mouthful of food, looking over George’s shoulder. He’s sat back down on the floor in front of the couch again and he lifts the box up so you can see it.

“Veggies with fried noodles. You?”

“Same.”

“Twinsies,” George says solemnly, and you high five over it.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, John and Paul share an eyeroll.

“I got shrimp fried rice if anyone cares,” Ringo pipes up from next to you. You bump your shoulder into his.

“Of course I care, Ritchie. Wanna trade a shrimp for my broccoli?”

He nods and you both chopstick over the terms of the trade. George’s grin drops a little. John and Paul roll their eyes even harder.

After a while, having devoured their food like it’s the Last Supper, you’ e all pulled out your phones. You scroll through Instagram and send a funny post to the flat’s group chat, and everyone laughs simultaneously. Everyone except George, who… has opened Tinder again. Christ, how does he have so many matches?

Well, why wouldn’t he? He’s cute… and funny… and gives the best advice when you’re down…

And you’ll be sharing all that with some other girl if you don’t do something about it.

“Why do these girls keep asking about my teeth?”

You scoff, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach. George’s sexy vampire teeth are yours and yours alone to appreciate, thankyouverymuch. “Probably have oral fixations, the lot of them.”

John does a whole body shudder and you all turn to stare at him. “Don’t fucking talk to me about Freud. That Psych course tore my GPA into shreds.”

“Right, like you care about your grades so much.” You lean back against the couch. “What was so bad about that class, anyway? I enjoyed it.”

“Professor Pang fucked me.”

“WHAT—”

“Fucked me over! Jesus, I dunno why my mouth just had a seizure there.” John cradles Paul’s face in his hands, trying to smooth away the frown on his face. “Paul, you know I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s a Freudian slip, that is,” you comment, sticking your tongue out when John turns to glare at you. Ringo starts humming Hot For Teacher under his breath. John leans over and smacks him.

“The only teacher I’ve got the hots for is you,” John says, turning back to Paul, and you and George make gagging noises. “Professor McCartney…”

“Professor?” Paul’s Pout (yes, with a capital P) turns into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“I think I’ve been bad… shall I serve detention for you?”

“Okay, just go!” You point towards their bedroom. “Please leave the immediate vicinity right fucking now.”

“I’m gonna hurl,” George says. The two horny bastards giggle and scurry off in the direction of your finger, door slamming behind them.

You go to bed that night with a belly full of noodles and a brain full of thoughts that keep you turning and tossing in bed. And when you finally do fall asleep, you dream about Gigi Hadid, cackling as she chases you around with George’s stupid little towel.

***

Your second exam the next day goes miserably.

Okay, maybe you’re being dramatic. It wasn’t that bad—you’d done a fair bit of studying that weekend, invigorated to overcome the Coffee Incident. Still, you couldn’t stop thinking about George the whole time, and him swiping through Tinder, and whoever the hell that Pattie girl is.

Okay, stop it. You can’t hate her for dating the boy you like. Us women have to support each other, the rational part of your brain tells you.

You grumble all the way back to the flat, fighting with the reasonable part of you. Eventually, you give in. Rational You is right. Hating on a chick you don’t know is what makes up eighty percent of Hollywood’s bullshit romcoms. Yes, you are going to be a good person and take the high route.

That all goes away when you open the door.

John and Paul are standing in the kitchen, whispering furiously to each other. You only catch the tail end of what they’re saying—

“-didn’t think he was actually going to do it!”

—before John sees you in the doorway and smacks Paul on the shoulder.

“Heyyy there,” John says. You immediately know something is wrong. You walk shut the door behind you and eye Paul’s smile warily.

“What are you two doing?”

“Erm, we were making a sandwich for you.” Paul gestures exaggeratedly at the plate on the counter, which John holds up at shoves in your direction.

“Yeah, we knew you’d need a little pick me up after the test.”

You look around the flat carefully. It’s awfully quiet. Ringo’s at his twelve o’clock lecture, but you should be able to hear…

“Where’s George?”

This slaps the smile right off of their faces and neither of the boys can put it back on quickly enough for you to not notice.

“He’s doing yoga,” Paul says at the same time John blurts out,

“He went to visit his mum!”

Paul glares at John and you feel something twist in your gut. “Yes, you see...” Paul looks frantically to the ceiling. God won’t help you out of this one. “George went to pick up his mum… and they’re at yoga together!”

You walk into the kitchen, crossing your arms. “Louise lives in Liverpool,” you say slowly.

“Yup,” John says.

“And the yoga studio is ten minutes away from our flat.”

“Yuuup.”

You can’t believe he’s still keeping this up. “And the drive from here to Liverpool is four hours. And George doesn’t have a car.”

“Yuuuuuuuuu—”

“Oh, I can’t take it anymore,” Paul cries, ignoring John’s frantic shushing. “George went on a date with that Maureen girl from Tinder. He’s at the coffee shop now.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

You must’ve said this out loud, because Paul gives you a sympathetic look. After a long moment of silence, John once again offers you the plate.

“Sandwich?” he asks, trying for a smile that comes across more as a grimace.

You take the sandwich and throw it right into the trash, plate and all.

#the beatles x reader #george harrison x reader #mclennon #beatles fanfic #five's a crowd #kalwrites #FUCK I GOTTA GO TO BED

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joeys-piano · 5 years ago

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Caught in a Spider’s Web

A/N → Yo, everybody! This is a Hannibal-esque, BSD ficlet I made for Twitter. Since I’ll be working with darker themes than I usually do, I wanted to do an interesting writing exercise with Odazai. Hope y’all enjoy~

Rating --> Teen

Summary → Oda is a former-detective who had once fallen in love with a dangerous man. After three years, he returns to Yokohama to confront Dazai and the uneasy feelings he has about him.

~~~~~~~~~

Three years had passed since the incident, but waking up was never easy. Beneath the brow of nightmares and fantasies, Flawless tinkered away like an elf against his ear. When Oda shifted and whenever he jerked, Flawless descended with tiny bolts and wrenches. Grappling ropes as thin as air would slip into the deepest crevasses within Oda’s brain. Where there, wedged between contempt and desire, it fiddled away with the little screws that had come undone in his sleep.

Some sort of nightmare had wreaked havoc in Oda’s rationality. Bits of reasoning and gears for sensibility had been ripped clean-off, replaced with something dastardly instead. Jet black to the touch, sticky like a web, and it sprawled like Mirkwood from all those books Oda had once read.

There was once a time when the only thing Flawless had to do was tighten a few screws and pick at these disgusting webs. But now, the growth had made its home in Oda’s head and the only thing the ability could do was keep him sane and clean up what it could. But where to start? This wicked growth and its miasma cornered Flawless at where it stood. And once that occurred, Oda knew he couldn’t live like this anymore.

The darkness inside of him had permeated everything else in his life. This home, this bed, these clothes clinging to him in a cold sweat — all of these and so much more were tainted by a spectre he couldn’t get out of his head. That was the scary thing. Even after all these years, that man still had an influence on him.

This bed smelled like him, this home wreaked of him, and these clothes felt like him. How was that possible? Oda moved out of Yokohama years ago and yet, Yokohama never left him. When he threw and burned everything, there were some things Oda couldn’t leave behind. Not this darkness in his head or the smile carved above his hip. Where a knife had dragged itself tenderly around the bone as the man he thought he loved kissed and betrayed him. Or maybe, the man betrayed him first and then kissed him so Oda could forget about the gun in his holster and how he could’ve shot the man to death.

Dazai Osamu, the famed Marionette, had marked him as the final victim. Oda would’ve been buried with that title if the Department of Special Abilities didn’t come when they did. Who shot who? Oda couldn’t remember. All he knew was that Dazai grabbed for his gun. Then suddenly, the man was on the ground. A boot smashed over his neck. A katana pinned him at the shoulder, like a toothpick stabbed through an olive. Crossing through the commotion was Ango Sakaguchi and he arrested Dazai on the spot.

Out of twenty-two victims, Oda was the only one that survived. But in all honesty, he felt like a ghost amongst the living because he did die that night. Or maybe, he had died much earlier after welcoming Dazai into his heart and mind. Safe to say, Oda regretted that as he went northbound by train back to Yokohama. It was dark when he traveled and it still was when he arrived. It was about five in the morning when Oda came with gasoline and a lighter. A cup of coffee and a cigarette were about as close as he could get, but they were hot and they were burning when Oda walked into the Department of Special Abilities and descended to its bowls.

Somehow, his former badge still worked on the elevator. It looked like Ango never wiped him off from the system’s memory. Probably in the guess that the former-detective would come back to confront his demon, face to face.

“A demon” was too affectionate of a name to call Dazai. “A fiend” seemed more appropriate, or maybe “a nuisance.” Yes, Dazai was definitely a fiendish nuisance, especially in how he lifted his head and looked so soft when Oda approached him.

A transparent, bullet-proof glass was all that separated them. Oda was two meters away from the glass while Dazai was a meter closer. He was on the concrete floor, lying there. He was staring blankly at nothing until he heard Oda’s steps. And now, those eyes were curiously on him. The innocence staring back at him beguiled the killer Oda knew Dazai to be.

His cell was furnished with very little things. He had a futon and toilet and that was about it. There were no bandages coiled around his skin. There were no places to hide and all cameras were pointed at him. This constant surveillance was the only stimulus Dazai had during hours like this but with Oda here, things were now interesting.

Dazai sat up and smiled at him. When he called out “Odasaku”, the name rolled like candy in his mouth. His voice was light and warm and caressed Oda’s ears like a kiss. And by then, the detective realized why he could never get Dazai out of his head.

Even after all this time, he still loved him. How he’d do anything to see Dazai smile or laugh or seem so carefree, to feel those cold fingers laced around his own, or to hear that voice muse about chaos and philosophy. Some part of him still yearned for this man and that was the most dangerous thing. How much of it was a hoax? How much of it was real? How much of it was simply Dazai’s scheming, knowing he’ll always drag Oda back to him?

This vile, conniving, ruthless man still looked as innocent and inviting as the man Oda fell in love with. All those years ago, when Dazai wore the guise of a criminal profiler and helped Oda find The Marionette. All the while, erasing his tracks and screwing with Oda’s head.

Dazai Osamu was indeed a dangerous man.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #oda sakunosuke #odazai #writing exercise #bsd ficlet #fanfic writing

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 5 years ago

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The Spider: A Critical Role Fanfic

For Day 3 of @essek-week I took the prompt Spy. This is a Vollstrecker!Bren AU, with a just slightly more lawful evil than neutral evil Essek. I absolutely love a Volstrecker!Bren AU, they are definitely my guilty pleasure. This is just my attempt to take a crack at it.

I hope you enjoy!

Read the collection on AO3

Trigger warnings: mentions of torture, ambiguous but definitely implied murder

“You are an intelligent man, Shadowhand. Surely you understand what my masters offer you, a chance to study that which you find most interesting,” the shadowed figure said, feminine voice heavy with an accent belonging to only tenant farmers and idle noblemen. But of course she was a tenant farmer, after all the powerful never used their own to crawl between cracks and slit throats. They liked to keep their hands clean, a sentiment Essek never truly shared. After all, what was an achievement you didn’t earn by your own virtue? “It would be foolish to turn down this opportunity.”

“And I also hear what your masters say about us from their high towers and in their studies, none of them too flattering. I am an intelligent man, but a vain one too I am afraid. I will not subject myself to working with those who clearly do not give me the respect I deserve,” Essek said, leaning his head upon his hand as he viewed the figure from where he sat at his desk. “I also must apologize in advance as well, for another one of my transgressions.”

“And what is that?” the figure asked, voice icy and cold.

“As Ludinas likes to say in his little secret meetings, a cold-hearted Crick like me is capable of many things. Killing a messenger is one of them,” Essek said with a sharp-toothed smile.

The Dungeons of Penance were menacing at the best of times, but with the whole city under high alert, somehow it was made ever worse. He had been startled out of trance by a hard knocking at his door, and since then it had been a desperate flurry to try to get anywhere meaningful. Moving through Rosohna was a different sort of nightmare now and so by the time he reached the Dungeons he was almost relieved as he escaped the sight of green lanterns moving along the walkways like ghostly apparitions, while the beacons flickered their urgent message across the city. The streets had been dead silent for a long time, and only the roving Watch moved throughout the city like a many-headed beast from deep below ready for the kill.

“Report,” Essek ordered as he met the five guards at the arch. The head guard nodded in deference before turning and keeping step with Essek’s glide. All of their shoes and armor clicked with the pace of their descent, the weight of their duty anchored them heavily to the ground. Essek remembered when a knobby-kneed Verin got his first suit of armor, and had scoffed at the display. On these men there was nothing to laugh about.

“The Watch caught him outside the Skysybil’s home,” the guard explained as they walked the hallway of the Dungeon of Penance. “Thankfully she was at the Cathedral and was safe when the coordinated attack occurred. He was disguised as a drow, and attempted to cast some kind of charm magic. The lead guard of the Watch resisted the magic, and when he was struck with an attack the spell was dropped, revealing the attacker for what they were. After being subdued they were immediately brought here.”

“I see, very well done,” Essek said pointedly in Undercommon with a prim nod before they arrived at the designated cell. There were two additional guards posted at the door, standing as dour monuments to the assassin's power. It wasn’t often they took one of these creatures alive, after all. “I shall go in and take stock of our new guest, make sure that they are comfortable.”

He nodded at the guards who had accompanied him. The head guard then shifted and one other moved to join him, they motioned and the door was opened. Without any pomp and circumstance, Essek floated in to assess their unexpected gift.

It was a human man. That didn’t surprise Essek, as most of the scourgers--the Empire’s pet assassin-spies that they caught tended to be humans. He was bound and muzzled according to regulation, hands behind his back and chained to the floor. He wasn't a large or physically intimidating human. The man instead looked at Essek expectantly. It was quite unlike the rabid struggling and spitting he had encountered with other scourgers. Though sometimes it was hard to tell with humans--they aged so quickly and were transitory creatures on the whole, Essek immediately got the impression that this one was older. Most of his face was obscured by the muzzle, and his hair color was covered by a layer of street-grime and dried blood on top of being cropped close to his scalp. But his eyes were a blue as calm, empty, and resigned as a vernal pool ready to disappear when the rains scattered to the wind.

Who are you? Essek wanted to ask the scourger. What backwater frost bitten village or city slum did they scrounge you up in? What gutters did you claw out of? What soldier barracks were you sprung from? When the people in Rexxentrum saw your potential, did you cower or bite the hand that fed you?

It had to bite, Essek thought. From what little they knew about Scourgers they figured only the strong survived the process of being broken in. But an old one like this? He wondered if there was any personality left to be scraped from the inside of his skull. Perhaps the Assembly lobotomized their souls on top of their rational sense? It was funny to him how those who claimed to be on the side of civilization tended to be the ones who made themselves monstrous, they needed nothing but a miniscule push.

“I must take the time to thank you,” Essek said, circling the scourger, taking a moment to catalogue him and his features. His ankle was twisted strangely. One sleeve had been torn and it revealed a set of wicked looking scars criss crossing his wrists and forearms. His blood was an almost startling red against his fair skin, slick and dripping on the stone. He would have to have a guard clean that up. Magic users tended to get funny ideas when they had access to blood. “You traveled a long way to be here, and I am certain we will learn so many new and interesting things.”

The scourger remained staring forward, not stubbornly or angrily. His shoulders were loose and his neck was relaxed. The only inclination that Essek had that the man heard him was the slightest twitch of his head, as if Essek’s voice had surprised him. His common was good, though accented. It had been drilled into him by the best tutors that his denmother could afford. His guest probably hadn't heard common yet from any of the Drow, or maybe he thought Drow were incapable of common courtesy. That was a sentiment that was unfortunately prevalent. It was a foolishness that made Essek laugh.

“I am here simply to let you know of the conditions of your stay here,” Essek said as he took in the rumpled and disorganized plain clothes. Not meant to raise suspicions, Essek figured, but of course they did. The Xhorhassian cut was about twenty years out of style, an amateur mistake. This man was not an amateur. Had he wanted to be captured? Or had his masters simply underestimated the Kryn? Empire-folk did like to think themselves so clever, after all. He wouldn’t be surprised either way, but he would find out sooner or later. “I know you must be a busy man, so I shall not take up a big portion of your day then necessary.”

The man didn’t make a sound, but Essek felt his eyes on him when Essek returned to stand before him. There were freckles scattered across his nose and forehead, a handsome furrow to his brow as if he were always deep in thought. The more he looked, the more certain he was of what kind of creature he was facing, and he relished the opportunity.

“You will find me to be a fair man,” Essek said simply, pleasantly. “I believe in what I can see, and results that I can gather from hard work. I am interested in nothing but knowledge. It gives me no greater pleasure than to discover something that no one else has discovered before. I am sure that someone like you can understand that. I am a slave to the truth, I am afraid. And I am willing to do a good many things to discover the truth about anything I set my mind to.”

Essek could see the gears turning in the scourger’s brain, a small twitch of the brow and tensing of his arms. Of course, of course, Essek thought excitedly though his expression as always was eternally smooth and amiable. The scourger was looking for an angle to work, something to barter, something to scheme with. Give them an inch, they would take it a mile. Essek already knew what the scourger saw. Young, handsome, egotistical, with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. Good, good. The game wouldn’t be fun if the other player didn’t play, and Essek was so ready to coax this spy into the trap.

“If you are compliant and what you tell me is the truth, I promise, your death shall be quick and painless. If not...well, truly I look forward to seeing what truths are teeming inside of you while I crack open your ribcage,” Essek said with a gentle smile. “I am excited for what we will discover together.”

The scourger watched him, a light opening behind his blue eyes like a beacon uncovered. There was someone rattling around in the recesses of his mind, Essek would just have to see who it was that would peak out from the depths...what sort of monster would creep along Essek’s finely woven web. Essek nodded at the guards before leaving the cell, the guards leaving behind him in order to guard his back. Once they had all exited the room and took a few steps away from the cell to be safe, Essek turned around to address the guards.

“No food or water for at least two days, after that, two cups of water and a crust of bread until I say so,” Essek said in Undercommon. “We want him to settle in neatly.”

“Yes, Lord Shadowhand.”

“I’ll visit again on the third day along with a healer. We’ll have to heal him up before we break him in again otherwise the pain will be dulled and ineffectual,” Essek said. “Though I will want updates on his condition until then, especially if it looks like his health is taking a turn. I shall take a look at his belongings in the meantime and see what we can find out about our little spider. I’m assuming someone will accompany me?”

“Of course,” the head guard said, nodding to his fellows who saluted and then resumed their duties. “What do you expect to find? All we found were some general equipment and a few pieces of amber.”

“I expect to find everything,” Essek said as he began to glide once more. “After all, a wizard never leaves the house without his spellbook.”

#critical role #critical role fanfic #shadowgast #essek theylss #caleb widogast #scourger AU

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chibivesicle · 5 years ago

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Golden Kamuy chapter 224-226: Pirates, serial killers and a killer rabbit’s much awaited backstory.

For the sake of time, I will combine my summary of the past few chapters that I missed while I was traveling and I don’t want to break it into smaller bits.

Chapter 224 had a color cover featuring none other than our favorite solitary wildcat sniper Ogata. I personally love the retro look for this! It looks like a classic comic from the 1960s with the odd color scheme and the handwritten shaded boxes.

The one box highlights the “100″ in Ogata’s first name as the kanji hyaku and the rest in latin letters.

The text refers to “Come on, Let’s Go! On wildcat Ogata’s sure-hit express! (one step forward!). Thanks to discussions on discord the phrase is in reference to the cat moving and delivery company in Japan, Yamato transport aka 黒ねこ (Kuroneko). A huge shout out to tsurumineko for translating the pun based on their “target hitting/sure hitting” level of service. I was previously familiar with the company in part due to my love of cats and noticing it everywhere when I’ve visited Japan.

Here is the official logo with a mom cat carrying a kitten and their official HQ (from wikipedia).

I can’t help but wonder if this implies that Ogata is a very reliable character in regards to performing his duties or that he hopes to one day make sure bring his own “kitten” home. Will Ogata be the one to take Asirpa back home to her kotan, Huci and her family? Either way, it implies that Ogata will get the job done, just like Kuroneko will deliver that package on time for you! He’ll snipe that target, he’ll get that info, he’ll make sure your mission is a success etc.

The retro look also makes me think of comics like these:

Batman works a bit outside of the law and has that dark edgy feel to it and Ogata also wears a cloak! Plus, look at the style of Batman and Robin, they’ve got quite the build just like our GK boys do.

Anyways, the cover is a combination of Kuroneko delivery and Batman.

Chapter 224 starts at the Uryu river as Asirpa is lighting a fire to attract a swan to it so that they can have it for dinner. For some odd reason, Noda chooses to rehash the Asirpa is going to kill a cute/beautiful animal for dinner. She pulls Sugimoto’s head when she sarcastically replies to him that they will gently grab the swan. . . .

I don’t understand this need to return to early Sugimoto-Asirpa humor. Shiraishi has returned from pooping and a swan approaches as the two of them freak out upon noticing the other. I personally find Shiraishi’s concern valid - swans are total assholes, so I’d also want to be upset at a swan at close range.

Asirpa beats it and they begin to prepare it for dinner in a temporary shelter as early on in the manga. This is a repeat of when they first started working together and ate the deer that Sugimoto failed to shoot. The three of them in Asirpa’s tent cooking some dinner.

Keep in mind Sugimoto didn’t want to eat the otter head etc etc and he still has issues with things beyond brains.

This time Asirpa really highlights the need to give it the Inaw offerings and place the head in the river.

Sugimoto still can’t eat animal heads and still looks awkward. However in contrast to chapter 25, after eating Shiraishi begins to explain what he’s observed from Heita’s belongings. He explains to us in a flashback what Heita told them about gold panning. He knows now that gold from different rivers looks different so there is a way to identify where it came from. And now, we get to see Shiraishi shine as he begins to help them lay out a new strategy for finding the gold without the skins.

He first off explains what we already know about the “Noppera-bou incident” which I find interesting based on the fact that he uses Noppera-bou - I wonder if Shiraishi thinks someone else killed the 7 Ainu men and Wilk was moving the gold, but not involved as Wilk told that to Sugimoto.

Shiraishi points out there may be people who know where the gold is hidden - and since supposedly Wilk moved it all by himself, he wouldn’t be able to move it that far.

He then continues to state, they just need to find the region where the gold dust was from and look close by. Sugimoto is not convinced by Shiraishi’s line of reasoning at all. He has a look of total annoyance and he’s like - “we” can’t identify a hidden gold dust stash etc. I’m disappointed that Asirpa simply chimes in that he’s an idiot as she eats the swan head that Sugimoto wouldn’t.

Shiraishi has to remind them what they learned from Tanigaki back when he was injured and recovering with Huci at Asirpa’s kotan. Part of the gold was taken from the stash by Wilk and the boat capsized on Lake Shikotsu. Therefore, they know where a sample of the gold is. As soon as Shiraishi reminds them of what they know from Tanigaki, he catches Asirpa’s attention and she takes him seriously.

She then summarizes where he’s been going with this - they likely won’t have the skins so they need another game plan. Bravo Shiraishi! He has created a plan B for them, better than Sugimoto’s “um maybe we will sweep in and steal the skins from Hijikata or Tsurumi . . .”

Sugimoto immediately rejects Shiraishi’s plan on the fact it is too hard and whines about it. Asirpa at least has a well thought out and rational reply that the lake is too deep, so they can’t get the evidence.

This leads into a flashback with Heita and our pirate convict at Lake Shikotsu the previous year. We get a “typical” reveal of his character as he’s completely in the nude about to dive into the cold spring water. Boutarou the Pirate’s real name is Oosawa Fusatarou and this reveals some of his background as a talented swimmer and diver.

He’s got some rather unique eyebrows - reverse Koito ones and he reveals that he’s going to dive for 35 minutes. He then uses special breathing techniques to get as much oxygen into his system and he’s got large feet, webbed hands (due to cell death not occurring between his digits during fetal development btw) and he became a convict by drowning people and stealing their stuff.

By having a rope tied to his ankle, Heita can signal to him when his time is up and he can come up from his deep free dive.

The chapter then returns to Shiraishi pointing out that Heita and Mr. Pirate already found the gold. This means that Shiraishi took the time to look at all of Heita’s samples and that they know the location and it is linked to one of the still remaining convicts.

Shiraishi then reveals that he knew that there was a guy who was intense, physically robust and pushed himself to the limits - so if he could dive to find the gold - he would be the most likely to succeed. The flashback shows that he was able to dive down to Wilk’s canoe and that Heita found at least 4 locations for the gold dust.

With the list of rivers, it means the gold dust found in the canoe can be traced to these four rivers: Toppu River, Saru River, Sorachi River and Shiriuchi River. I have labeled each of those rivers on the map of Heita’s description of rivers that can be panned for gold and included a few cities for reference. In yellow is the current approximate location of Asirpa, Sugimoto and Shiraishi on the Uryu river. The rivers where the gold dust is from are in magenta. The Toppu River is the closest one to them and the Sorachi and Saru Rivers are reasonably close.

The only river that is further away is the Shiriuchi River fairly close to Hakodate. Google maps has the Shiriuchi River labelled as the Chinai River (I checked with translator GlassHouses for clarification - apparently it can also be read as the Chinai River and there is one located in Shikoku - thanks for the help!) so if you try to find it in English it won’t be labelled correctly. Lake Shirotsu is the large lake on the map just next to my arrow pointing to Sapporo. Only put on a few cities for easy reference, Otaru, close to Asirpa’s kotan, Ashikawa and Kushiro.

The chapter then ends with Sugimoto holding the list of rivers as his eyes are white. He figures if they head to those rivers, since the pirate knows where the gold is from they just need to catch a pirate [and skin him]. Stop looking so well murder-y Sugimoto.

The tag line at the end states that every river eventually leads to the sea . . . I guess this must be true in Japan perhaps, but if you live in a basin, or in the Great Lakes region of North America the lake does not lead to the sea . . . . but I digress. This likely has to do with the pirate reference or something.

Recall that in 223, Hijikata is the one who remarks that Boutarou the pirate is making his move.

with the end of 224, it is confirmed that Boutarou is another faction entering the quest for the gold.

Quick observations and predictions from this chapter.

1.) Ogata is about to become a key player based on his color cover (if you don’t already get that Ogata is important). Momma cat needs to take her kittens home.

2.) Shiraishi has laid out their plan to look for the pirate. This may lead to an alliance or Sugimoto just trying to skin him based on the ending page. I personally think an alliance with Asirpa-Sugi-Shiraishi and Boutarou to be the most interesting. . . .

3.) Hijikata is not surprised by Boutarou’s move to enter the quest. He was working with Heita and now we know he will likely have his own faction as well.

4.) Based on my map, some of the parties will need to visit each of these rivers in order to gather information. With the much farther away Shiriuchi River, it takes the cast close to Hakodate. I can see this being key in future events involving Hijikata (due to his historical death during the Battle of Hakodate), Koito, since he was kidnapped in Hakodate by Tsurumi with the help of Ogata, Tsukishima and Kikuta. It seems like some sort of confrontation at Hakodate is in the cards.

Chapter 225 - Another convict enters the story.

So chapter 225 starts out with a clear reference to the infamous serial killer, Jack the Ripper who targeted prostitutes in Victorian London and was never caught. Oh yay, another serial killer - just my fav type of convict. [rolls eyes] The chapter title slums seems to refer to the slums of Sapporo where alcohol and prostitution were the few releases and the area was ripe with disease and violence.

An older woman is walking back to the inn of her client, he’s a much taller man wearing a western style of dress and a top hat. The woman is chatting away, she explains that she used to come from a wealthy family in Nagoya, since she’s in Hokkaido, it either implied her family was on the losing side during the Meiji revolution or that her late husband was on the losing side sent up to Hokkaido.

She’s clearly flush with drink and she turns to notice that he may be Japanese based on her “Huh? You’r Japa . . .” as he then grabs her by the face and proceeds to slit her throat and then cut up her body. As she struggled we get to see her hand pulled his jacket open a bit revealing yet another tattoo - so yep, another convict.

The following morning shows Sapporo police officers trying to keep the press away from a covered corpse, the woman covered with a straw mat. A member of the press is confirming what happened with a very suspicious looking police officer. Apparently, there was prostitute who was killed in the same location within the past month or less e.g. indicated by the 31st of last month (we don’t know how far into the current month things are). The man is revealed to be a criminal inspector and he has a shaded face and interesting wrinkles under his eyes.

From the start, this criminal inspector seems to be quite tall compared to the reporter. The next page reveals his identity as he’s trying to get a scoop on the story by bribing the inspector with food. The inspector’s face is covered as he simply tells him to shut up as he turns away.

The action then shifts to the temple where Hijikata and Co. are staying as we the readers are reminded that the man is Ishikawa Takuboku, the reporter who meet up with the group back when they had their photos taken before Abashiri in Kitami. Most of the group went to the photo studio with Hijikata while Shiraishi went off to the red light district with Takuboku instead as they hung out with sex workers and got very intoxicated on Hijikata’s money. The drunken Ishikawa blurts out that Hijikata is going to buy up newspapers to control the press.

Shiraishi knew that the Russo-Japanese war resulted in sales of papers but Ishikawa revealed that the change was due to the addition of pictures! Hence part of the reason why having a photo of Asirpa will be important to his Republic of Ezo plan. Again this exchange between Shiraishi and Takuboku-chan illustrates that Shiraishi is a pretty observant and smart guy. He’s def aware of more things than people give him credit for.

He’s finally back reporting to Hijikata and asks for more spending money. Unfortunately, he’s trying to get money from Nagakura who is having none of this and reminds him bluntly that if he wants money it needs to be information not printed in the papers.

Ushiyama makes a comment on how gruesome the murders are and wonders if the man has some issue with whores. Ishikawa comments that it is “unfortunate” since he hopes the man is apprehended quickly since he currently has a prostitute in the area that he is rather fond of. Wow, way to show how you care about women trapped in sex work Ishikawa . . . that the were likely sold into but I digress.

The English translation has Ushiyama refer to sex workers as whores, and Ishikawa’s use of prostitutes implies a little more respect, but maybe not since he’s concerned his current interest in Sapporo may get his fav woman killed and he won’t be able to sleep with her any more. What is clear is both men seem awkward in their opinion of how women in sex work should be perceived.

This is clear based on Nagakura’s reply to Ishikawa’s statement that he hopes he dies in a ditch. Hijikata completely ignores the info and just asks Kadokura if there was a convict in Abashiri who fits the description for the current killer.

Kadokura doesn’t reveal the name of any other information about the killer. Clearly, this information will be revealed when it becomes relevant and Hijikata is concerned that if this man is a convict and he is making such violent headlines that Tsurumi and his men in the 27th will certainly realize that they should investigate as well. It seems after Abashiri, Hijikata is taking Tsurumi as seriously as possible as well as the arrival of Ariko into his group after he was beaten up by Usami.

Hijikata’s reference to the 27th hunting the possible convict leads to another mallard flying. The final part of the panel shows Ogata aiming at the duck. Ogata fires at the duck.

The duck flies on, but Ogata simply exhales as he works the bolt with his left hand. He’s looking smug yet determined again. We don’t seem him exhale like this frequently, but it does remind me of his “I shot the woodcocks” proud face or a focused “hmmph” this is what I expected look.

The final panel shows two tail feathers from the duck fall to the ground both having been shot by Ogata. It is clear that Ogata is pleased with his progress on re-learning how to shoot ducks with his left eye. He’s making good progress - I’m not sure if we will get to see him make a successful kill in the manga or if Noda will keep it for a big reveal scene where he makes an amazing shot.

There are two ways to look at this i.) Ogata knows he’s getting better and he’ll let others see that he can still snipe and that he’s still a sniper. ii.) Ogata gets better, but publicly doesn’t want others to know he’s back to “normal” and uses his injury as a way to hide his regained sniping ability as his wildcard.

Both of these can be advantages for Ogata - everyone assumes he’s a sniper and forgets about all of his other skills. Or he makes others assume he’s weaker and than uses that to defeat them - an obvious sucker is Sugimoto - Sugimoto would look at one-eyed Ogata and think, “well if I can get close enough to break his arm again I can totally finish him off . . .” as Ogata then snipes Sugimoto again . . . (okay, not likely to happen just like that but you get my idea).

The chapter then shifts to an unnamed village along the Sea of Okhotsk. This is a vague descriptor, and as my map indicates it can be along this entire coast of the northeastern part of Hokkaido. Yay! The panel is quite simple as it shows a dead horse laying down.

The final panel shows Usami looking down upon the horse. Stares down at the horse as his eyes are white around the iris. As his head shifts a little to his left.

It is clear by the next page that Usami is the likely cause of death for the horse. A random man yells “Who did this? Who killed my horse!” as it shows Usami shuffling off rather quickly to avoid being caught in the act of horse murder.

Tsurumi is then outside of a shop that sells newspapers reading a newspaper with great interest. He then speaks to Kikuta who is nearby, telling him that the murders in Sapporo appear to be the work of an escaped tattooed convict.

He orders Kikuta to go to Sapporo to look into the convict. And that he should take Superior Private Usami with him. Wherever Tsurumi is along the coast is unclear, but Tsurumi seems to think staying on the eastern coast will allow him to find Asirpa from that area. Plus, he has sent Tanigaki in search of them as well. . . Kikuta replies yes sir rather calmly in a typical Kikuta fashion.

Usami walks up behind him with completely black eyes when Tsurumi tells him to take Usami with him. . . Kikuata can’t be too happy wit this as his reply is hesitant . . .” . . . yes, sir . . .” as he gives him the stink eye.

Usami then speaks up highlighting that he really doesn’t want to go with Kikuta. This is quite bold from a superior private, but Usami seems like he can get away with this in front of Tsurumi and Kikuta almost smirks as he feels the same way. Tsurumi doesn’t even turn to reply to Kikuta, he simply replies that Usami will be of use to him in Sapporo and Kikuta looks curious as to in what context Usami will be helpful.

Tsurumi figures that Hijikata’s group will also move there to investigate due to the newspaper coverage and that they should avoid them if all possible. Tsurumi doesn’t want them running into each other.

This is interesting as Kadokura is currently in Hijikata’s group and can easily recognize Usami so that may come into play. Usami beat the crap out of Ariko so he’ll be tied to the situation. Ogata is back with Hijikata for now and has a previous work history with Kikuta and there is enough information for the two of them to have some sort of showdown/reunion etc.

With somewhat erratic screen tones behind Usami and a equally creepy font he declares that running into Hijikata’s group is fine. He concludes that Ariko will be a useless spy and that he will just kill them all and steal everything - problem solved.

And with that Usami gives off super creepy vibes at 110%.

He and Kikuta don’t get along at all - when they were chasing after Toni Anji which required a well thought out plan he was useless and whiny and Kikuta couldn’t take it and also trusted Ariko to succeed.

When they were chasing Asirpa off of the ferry - Usami’s solution was to simply kill Huci and Kikuta was clearly appalled by how Usami’s mind seems to work. It was clear when Usami beat up Ariko that Kikuta was both hurt and torn about the entire situation. This likely is setting up some sort of disagreement between the two men. Kikuta is a sauve, sexy man, who appears a bit cocky at times but he gives off a vibe of really caring for others and avoids harming others who are not involved in things.

The next page reveals that indeed both groups are hunting down the convict in Sapporo.

Hijikata has brought his entire entourage. He leads the group followed by Ushiyama and Nagakura. Kadokura, Toni, Kantarou, Kirawus and then Ariko follow behind. Ariko looks back at Ogata watching them from a distance and taking up the rear as he prefers.

Kikuta leads with Usami behind, his face partially obscured by his visor of his army cap - Kikuta is too sexy to every wear a hat and mess up his excellent hairstyle.

It is interesting that even when you zoom in a bit, Ogata has his blank expression as Ariko nervously looks back at him. He was nervous to see Ogata and he likely thinks Ogata is onto him as a spy or maybe even thinks that Ogata is still working for Tsurumi.

It looks like Kirawus is watching Kadokura - I wonder if he’s onto Kadokura playing dumb. The two of them may get drunk and joke around, but I think Kirawus has been watching both Kadokura and also used him to get closer to Hijikata. I think both of these men are carrying secrets that will be important as time progresses in the manga. I just can’t shake the feeling that Kirawus knows more about the Ainu murders and I have a theory that he keeps his forehead covered b/c of some scar or something from the incident where the 7 Ainu men were murdered.

The next page has present day Tsurumi thinking of something disturbing based on the screen tones around him and it reveals a flashback, in Meiji 28 (1895) and back in Tsurumi’s home area of Shibata, Niigata. The flashback starts with someone asking Tokushirou, Tsurumi’s first name, about how the battlefield was.

The next page reveals Tsurumi talking with a man who appears to be his martial arts teacher for jujitsu. Tsurumi tells his teacher that he observed something interesting in war. Despite the vast amount of training that soldiers underwent before battle, most of the men actively avoided trying to kill the enemy soldiers.

Tsurumi goes on to state that during the American Civil war troops went to great lengths to avoid killing each other (as the nature of a civil war that split families apart at times) and he spends the rest of the page discussing that most humans will really try to avoid killing each other, even in the case of war.

This really is the heart of one of the major issues of GK. What happens to men who go off to war and the actually kill others? How do men do this and how to they move forward (or in the case of many of the elite men of Tsurumi’s 27th) how do those men get sucked into killing and do all of the dirty deeds for him.

This gets at the concept of how a person can be turned into a killer and be able to go to great lengths to kill and in this quest for the gold - who can serve Tsurumi best.

After perhaps working or training with his sensei, Tsurumi has changed into his uniform and is telling children nearby (perhaps students of the dojo) to be careful of Master Takeda’s horse is ill tempered (confirmation of the identity of the man he was just talking to) and that it may kick them. The fact that Usami killed a horse in the present time and then there is a flashback about a horse seems to indicate this will be something to do with Usami’s past.

A voice then calls to Tsurumi, calling him Mister Tokushirou, indicating a person familiar enough with him to call him by his first name but with respect.

This flashback now has revealed not one, but two people close enough to Tsurumi to use his first name either as a senior, his sensei and this unknown yet clearly younger person. Tsurumi responds, that he recognizes who the person is - revealed to be a younger Usami. He tells him that he’s gotten taller again, and then calls him by his first name, Tokishige.

Usami is blushing as he looks at Tsurumi before he replies yes, still blushing with black eyes as it reveals that he is Usami Tokishige, 14 years old. This means Usami was born in 1881.

Of course the editorial tagline mentions that he is yet another of the boys pining for Tsurumi.

Chapter 225 ends with several things as the main points:

1.) The next convict is a serial killer and is in Sapporo. This will lead to a likely encounter between Hijikata’s group and Kikuta and Usami.

How will this showdown happen? I’m hoping that Kadokura notices Usami and tips off the rest of the group and KIkuta and Ogata catch up. They seem to be more morally centered members of the 27th concerned about others who can get caught in the crossfire.

2.) The manga is back to the concept of the ability to kill, what makes a killer? what makes a murder? and what makes a soldier? Tsurumi wants men willing to go into the depths of hell with him to accomplish his goals.

Tsukishima will see this to the end - he’s officially dead on the outside and inside after his Koito confrontation.

Nikaido is losing all of his humanity to be a test subject for a new and improved solider.

Usami has clearly had a vibe that something is totally off with him since he was first introduced. The fact that Koito was groomed by Tsurumi when he was 14, means that Usami’s age and blush shows that he was a previous and older Tsurumi fanboy. The chapter ends with the idea that Tsurumi likely was involved in grooming him.

Usami is clearly a great soldier and killer for some of Tsurumi’s goals - this chapter is making it clear that Usami is “special” in the context of murder. Or that he lacks some sort of moral compass or control in regards to murder and killing.

3.) That criminal inspector at the Sapporo police department is shady as all hell. He could be the convict in disguise - and he’d fit the trope of the murderer working in the police so that he can’t get caught. Or he’s a total red herring.

Chapter 226 -Sacred Ground

The chapter starts out with a brief update on the status of the Asirpa-Sugi-Shiraishi-Vasily group. They are stopping by an Ainu kotan and Sugimoto notices another dog that looks exactly like Ryu, but isn’t Ryu. Shiraishi is the one to remark that Ryu stayed behind as Tanigaki gave Cikapasi Nihei’s rifle so he won’t be going anywhere. Interestingly, Sugimoto remarks that he hopes that Cikapasi and Ennoka treat Ryu well so he “let’s go” of his attachment to the rifle and move on.

This is an odd remark from Sugimoto, since he himself needs to move on from a lot of stuff ~ he can see it in a dog’s life but not his own.

This leads to a key comment from Asirpa about Ainu dogs, that their loyalty towards owners can be a bad thing since they get jealous and ill tempered. A Japanese man owned one and the dog was well treated but he ended up scolding it due to poor behaviour and went hunting without the dog. The dog’s reaction to rejection was to kill of off the man’s chickens . . . Shiraishi then comments that people will do the same thing for the love of another.

The following page is the title page with the title and a young Usami and Tsurumi. Based on the fact that we know Usami is very loyal to Tsurumi and he has killed for him - I think it is clear the story about the loyal dog is Usami and Tsurumi is the man with the chickens. . . oh great - this chapter is surely getting to the root of his creepy vibes!

Usami tells him that he’s there even on a day to not train even though after he performed housework and chores to help his family he is more than willing to walk 2 hours one way to come to that very spot on the dojo grounds.

Usami’s face is completely shaded so clearly something dark is tied to that place.

The next page reveals that Usami refers to that spot as “our sacred place” as the wind dramatically blows by as Tsurumi looks at his back.

This leads to a flashback in the flashback, 2 years earlier so 1893, showing Usami’s family. He’s 12 and he appears to have his mother and father, an older sister, younger brother and another younger sibling on his mother’s back as well.

His father asks him if things are going well at the dojo and with his training. He replies that Mister Tokushirou told him he’s the most talented of all the students that he’s seen there before. Therefore, at the age of 12 he was comfortable enough to call Tsurumi by his first name - san!

This catches the attention of his older sister and his mother as they look at him in shock and awe, his mother stopping her mending of clothing while his sister blushes. His sister asks excitedly “Mister Tsurumi Tokushirou = Tsurumi Tokshirou-san?” followed by her having a teenage fangirl moment over him while his father looks on with shock and concern. His mother confirms that he’s got to have talent since his father was talented too . . . I guess this implies that Tsurumi’s father was a well know ladies man and it is clear that Tsurumi is also seen as a ladies man in the area.

So, Tsurumi is clearly a charismatic, charming and a confirmed ladies’ man and is the 4th son of another man who was also very well known and must have been an important samurai family. Usami is happy that his family are glad to hear he’s attracted the attention of an important local man. Their family is large and it looks like since his mother is mending clothes they aren’t the richest family but they must come from a more noble/samurai background than some of our other cast members. It looks like the Usami household is a happy and fertile one.

Clearly, Tsurumi is interested in getting to know Usami and some time later, Tsurumi is working the water wheel that his family uses to pump water for their rice paddies. Tsurumi clearly is doing some sort of research into him and he seems to realize that using the foot powered water wheel leads to the develop strong legs. Usami is explaining how hard the work is based on their location etc when he is interruped by another young boy.

This other boy is introduced as Takagi Tomoharu another 12 year old boy. He really reminds me of Sugimoto a bit, that slightly messy hair and friendly look. He clearly is another Tsurumi fanboy.

Tsurumi also calls him by his first name and asks if his father is doing well and the boy responds excitedly as Usami silently smiles with his eyes closed in the background having Tsurumi’s attention focused on another person.

Sometime after school, Tomoharu tells Usami to stay over at his house since they have training at the dojo and they can go to school the next morning. He then adds that Tsurusumi will be at the dojo that evening! This immediately gets Usami’s attention and he runs to the dojo yelling “Hurry, hurry!” so Usami is excited by this!

The next page shows the dojo and both boys want Tsurumi’s attention to train with each of them and Tsurumi just smiles back, again Usami’s eyes are closed.

Sometime later it shows Tsurumi in winter leaving the dojo - we don’t get the full conversation, just that Tsurumi is responding to something that Usami said. Usami will be graduating - I guess based on his age primary school - and Tsurumi who’s face is obscured asks if he will keep training at the dojo. Usami responds with his eyes closed again stating he will have to help his father work on their family farm so it may not happen.

Tsurumi then turns and looks at him in a very friendly way telling him to continue at the dojo to become much stronger - he’ll be able to surpass Tsurumi as well based on his skills with time.

Tsurmi then states he won’t be able to visit the dojo soon, with the impending Sino-Japanese war he’s about to go off to (with Tsukishima) and finally Usami opens his eyes with concern in them as well as light in his eyes. Usami is clearly worried about Tsurumi leaving. All of a sudden his friend appears interrupting him and Tsurumi again telling him to go home together. Again we don’t know what else Usami was going to say to Tsurumi . . .

The winter gives way to spring, when the school year ends and another one will begin.

We get a scene where Usami is able to pin Tomoharu down and someone tells them to stop for the day . . . maybe Tsurumi maybe not. It is clear that just like Sugimoto’s friend Toraiji - Usami is the natural martial artist while Tomoharu will always lose to him. Tomoharu is sulking in the dojo and Tsurumi has to ask him what’s wrong so that he and his sensei can lock up. He reveals that he’s never been able to beat Usami before he leaves. Tomoharu then cases after Usami who is waiting outside for him.

It looks like he told Tsurumi that he’s leaving and Tsurumi got him to approach Usami to tell him about his departure to high school? in Tokyo. However, Usami is not surprised as he already knew his friend was leaving and tells him that he really doesn’t want to spar with him one last time.

Usami from a very dramatic angle tells hi that he doesn’t want to lose on purpose b/c he’s worried about his feelings . . . and before he finishes Tomoharu yells his reply that he shouldn’t, that wouldn’t be a real friendship, it would end it. Usami has light and sparkle in his eyes as he says his lines and his friend sounds like a passionate young Japanese man with fighting spirit.

Tsurumi tells him that he will watch their match in the corner of the yard - the sacred place which Usami will say to Tsurmumi 2 years later. . .

The next two pages are a montage of memories of Tomoharu with Usami as he thinks to survive alone in Tokyo requires him to defeat him. It seems that Tomoharu really enjoyed his time with Usami - but I really get the feeling that Usami just tolerated him. It really does have this vibe of a one sided friendship, I could even see him staying over at Tomoharu’s place just to be closer to the dojo and by extension Tsurumi.

Tomoharu cries as he knows he’s fighting hard but still ends up defeated by Usami.

This scene is very much like the Sugimoto’s flashback in chapter 35 - courtship. He met Toraji at his burnt down house on his wedding day and he attacks Sugimoto who promptly defeats him. With his eyes full of tears, Toraji refuses to give up and goes for another round with Sugimoto as he roundly defeats him again. This clearly is linked back to Shiraishi’s comment about humans and the people that they love. Yes, Sugimoto is a dick to show up, make Toraiji upset, beat him and then congratulate him on his marriage which only makes Toraiji more annoyed.

Yet, in their second round ends with him declaring that he may have lost to Sugimoto in kendo and judo, but he won in the battle for Umeko’s heart. . .

This is clearly a parallel with Usami and Tomoharu and this is linked to Sugimoto.

Anyways back to 226. Tomoharu despite being defeated pulls on Usami’s shirt and states that he’s not done yet. The next full page panel shows Usami’s reaction -

full on murder rabbit!!! He’s gained the white along the edge of his black pupils as he’s drooling, his veins are bursting and his entire face is contorted in rage/anger/i don’t know what else. I call him a murder rabbit based on a nickname that the lovely Merdopsuedo came up for Usami a long time ago.

She calls him the The Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, based on the rabbit that lives in the cave and kills many men in an excellent scene requiring the use of the Holy Hand grenade of Antioch in “Monty Python and The Holy Grail”. This flashback has confirmed all of our fan jokes and theories and was a much better nickname the previously proposed one of “Thumper” the rabbit from “Bambi”.

Tomoharu only gets a glance of his face as he raises his foot before he firmly kicks him in the throat with his bare heel.

This action is enough to even shock Tsurumi! We see Tomoharu make his last gasp for air as Tsurumi, the man who watched his family die in Vladivostok, perhaps killed by his own actions or those of Wik, Kiro and Sofia. Tsurumi is a broken and twisted man by this point before he even heads off to the Sino-Japanese war, but Usami’s actions have completely caught him off guard. He thought he was helping out with a teenage issue and he’s just resulted in the death of Tomoharu by accident. Look at those wide open eyes, sweat on his forehead and those stress lines! Tsurumi is completely shocked.

It is clear a man who has seen terrible things like Tsurumi (as we don’t know what his spying and previous military service was like) he is shocked by Usami’s violence that he uses as he clearly struck a killing blow on his friend.

And with that the chapter ends!

Wow! Usami’s backstory is clearly revealed to be super creepy as I was always afraid of. At the age of 12 he killed the boy who on the surface appeared to be his best friend.

Final thoughts on chapter 226

1.) Usami may be a natural born killer rabbit who always wants to please Tsurumi. Chapter 227 will likely further explain why that part of the dojo is sacred to both of them. Sei Kobiyama also mentioned on twitter that due to both Tsurumi and Usami practicing jujitsu/judo indicate they both came from samurai families.

Tsurumi has alluded to the fact that his family was once wealthy when he was young and we know he’s the 4th son and they lost the wealth. It is clear based on Usami’s families reaction to him the Tsurumi family was well known.

Usami is clearly not in a wealthy household that has to work very hard to survive, yet has a connection to samurai habits and culture. This may be a link to chapter 225 referring the the slums of Sapporo and how the murdered woman was from a once wealthy family that lost it - likely a pre-Meiji era samurai family.

Is Usami jealous of Tomoharu? Or does he want Tsurumi’s attention all to himself? What motivates him? He seems off the entire time before he kills Tomoharu so I think there is more going on than we realize just yet.

Does this information from Sei Kobiyama imply that since Sugimoto and Toraiji also practiced kendo and judo that they were also from poor samurai families also fallen on hard times in the Edo area?

2.) I believe that Usami and Sugimoto are supposed to be compared in some way with this flashback. Both men are talented in judo and when they kill both men are demon or animalistic in the way that they fight and kill. Yet, one killed his crybaby best friend while the other one as far as we know was unable to save his friend.

Noda has kept away from Sugimoto’s past and his unresolved issues surrounding Toraiji and Umeko for a long time. This may lead to the reveal of more of Sugimoto’s past and what really happened when Toraiji died and Sugimoto clung to his dying body, giving up the sled for Tsukishima at Mudoken. It keeps alluding to a potential situation where Sugimoto is either indirectly or directly related to the events that result in Toraiji’s death. And keep in mind in the flashbacks his nickname is Tora-chan or Tiger. If Kiro is Tanigaki’s tiger, we’ve discussed that Toraiji is Sugimoto’s tiger . . .

Sugimoto currently has a broken wrist and maybe he will have to rely on Asirpa, Shiraishi and Vasily his non-friend, not-enemy-ally. I think Usami may be a link to more background into Sugimoto.

Keeping that in mind, I suspect that Kadokura will lead to more background into Ogata as his father would have been a contemporary of sorts with Koito and Hanazawa, but on Ogata’s mother side.

Well that is all I have for now with the chapters! I’ll work on getting a few more meta up hopefully in the next few days including as long delayed cover analysis and some Koito meta!

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #sugimoto saichi #asirpa #ogata hyakunosuke #tsurumi tokushirou #tsukishima hajime #ushiyama tatsuma #hijikata toshizo #usami tokishige #warrant officer kikuta #kadokura #kirawus #ishikawa takuboku

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mbavholidayexchange · 5 years ago

Photo

To @demonicbutterflies, from @pixiepaintt

Title: Piecewise Equations & The Inner Turmoil of a Mathlete

Rating: T

Summary: It was a day of completely no consequence. Small and tiny against the mass of the calendar; itty-bitty in the grand scheme of chronological order. It was no holiday nor commemoration. It was a Tuesday unlike any other Tuesday to have ever been invented, but to Benny Weir, grand amateur spellcaster and goof, it was the most important day of his life.

It was the day he was going to confess to Ethan fucking Morgan.

Ao3 Link: Link

Content

It was a day of completely no consequence. Small and tiny against the mass of the calendar; itty-bitty in the grand scheme of chronological order. It was no holiday nor commemoration. It was a Tuesday unlike any other Tuesday to have ever been invented, but to Benny Weir, grand amateur spellcaster and goof, it was the most important day of his life.

It was the day he was going to confess to Ethan fucking Morgan. AKA the smartest guy in the whole world. AKA an angel disguised as a human. AKA the person that Benny has been pining over for three years.

In Freshman year, he was just figuring out that he was even into dudes-- he spent most of the year pondering if he liked Ethan as a friend or liked him like that . In Sophomore year, he fawned over Ethan and decided that there was no way the feeling was mutual, especially not with Sarah around. In Junior year, he started out thinking the same, but then-- then Sarah confessed to Erica, and she apparently didn’t like dudes, and Ethan seemed relieved, and he felt like maybe, just maybe, this was his chance. So Benny convinced himself to confess.

The days couldn’t have passed any quicker; he had set a date to confess right after he learned he had a speck of hope (a week ago). Then he blinked, and it was the morning of his confession.

He forced himself to confess before lunch.

That failed.

He forced himself to confess during his last period English class.

That failed.

English class had just been dismissed by the bell, there were no hours left in the school day now, Ethan was still oblivious, and Benny was freaking out. If he didn’t do it now, he knew for a fact he’d back out and hide in his feelings for the rest of his lonely life. He’d done that for two years already; he didn’t want to go back now. Not when he had an opportunity in front of him.

“B? You coming?” Ethan asked, hefting his shoulder bag over his body and ambling to the door. He was probably excited to go home and play the new update of Zombies: Brains, Brains, and More! Benny wished all of his troubles were a zombie apocalypse; that would be infinitesimally easier than what he was going through now.

“Uh-- I--” Benny half-responded, still sitting in his desk. His feet wouldn’t move.

“Benny?” Ethan asked, lifting up a worried smile. He paused momentarily on his journey to the exit.

“You-- I don’t--” Benny managed, pointing a hand to the door. He was shaking.

“Let me just grab my stuff out my locker and we can walk home together?” Ethan promised, walking back towards the door.

“Wait!” Benny yelled, regaining his footing finally, “E, wait.”

“Yeah?”

Benny held his pointing hand straighter, flailing for the right words. He couldn’t think of any Latin with this state of a frazzled mind, so he settled for a simple English spell. Under his breath, sweating with nerves, he muttered:

“ Fire deflection, passionate perfection, grant the door unyielding connection !”

“Did you say something?” Ethan asked. Luckily he didn’t have super-hearing to go with his seer abilities.

“Uh.”

“I’m going to get the nurse. B, you’re worrying me.”

Ethan tried for the door’s handle. He tried again. It gave no budge at all-- not even a sliver of movement in any direction. Benny hesitantly smiled; at least his spell had worked. That was the only thing working for him in the moment; everything else was disorganized mayhem. Just call him Dr. Homo Doom, because his teenage life was descending into a frenzy of unrequited love!

Ethan kicked the door. Immediately after, he scowled tightly and rubbed his foot.

“The door is jammed.”

“Yeah,” Benny nervously responded. Oh God, was he too obvious? Was his plan failing? Was Ethan onto him?

“Are you,” Ethan dithered, choosing his words carefully as he checked Benny up and down, “better now?”

“Yeah. Swell as an Orc in the Highlands of Manoria!”

Ethan tried to suppress a grin at the mention of their favorite fantasy MMORPG. They always made fun of the janky 3D mechanics together.

“Valiant Orc, I shall slay you with my enchanted Ice Protection III Sword of Elysia!”

“Oh heavens above, not the enchanted Ice Protection III Sword of Elysia!” Benny yelled, clutching his chest. He made a pained ‘gh’ sound and collapsed onto his desk, twitching dramatically and trying to hide his giggles.

“Didn’t a new mob just get released?”

“Bro, yes, ah-- spear goblins, I think. Definitely OP. I wanted to play during last class but stupid Ms. Wallon won’t let us bring our phones in the room.”

“Some of us are trying to learn,” Ethan teased, smiling with his eyes, and god did that make Benny’s heart clench .

“And some of us are trying to learn strategy techs for the new meta!” Benny quickly responded. He regarded competitive gaming very seriously.

Ethan sighed. Although he, too, was heavily invested in gaming, he preferred singular player free roaming modes, or, at the very most, campaign modes. Competitive and ranked games gave him too much anxiety. He loved to watch Benny play rankings and rage at smurfs, though.

“Anyway, we should head home. We can play ZBBM?” Ethan pointedly looked at the door, “Can you, uh, do your thing?” He wiggled his fingers, and Benny snorted.

“That’s the issue. See,” he took a deep breath (it was now or never!), “I’ve been wanting to tell you something really kinda important.”

“Okay?” Ethan answered, and that confirmation sent Benny spiraling. This was really, really happening. It wasn’t just in his imagination anymore.

Benny’s breathing quickened, and he briefly considered backing out. Ethan certainly didn’t feel the same way. If he confessed now, he’d lose his best friend. Benny gulped and backtracked.

“Eh, I just--”

And then the door started hissing. And shaking. And glowing.

Ethan gasped. Benny cursed.

“Shit, Grandma always told me English spells were more tricky,” Benny muttered. He flexed his fingers. Something wasn’t right-- he may not be the most proficient spellcaster, but a simple spell like that certainly shouldn’t cause the door to rumble like a giant was full-throttle rattling it.

English spells often had a looser sense of interpretation; something about the translation from the original latin being lost in the magic altered them. He had pronounced the spell with all of the right intentions, but--

But the door was still shaking like an earthquake.

Benny blanched.

“Water pyre, built from needs dire, extinguish this door’s mental fire!”

Nothing.

“Succulent wind, in which all, uh, things end, to my cause a hand you should lend!”

Zero effect.

“Powers from earth, strengthened by girth, to a peaceful door you should give birth!”

Still, no response.

Ethan looked to Benny with wide deer eyes. He had the pinched inner brow expression that meant only one thing: he had been thinking through a problem, and reached a conclusion.

“Did you spell the door earlier?” He accused.

“Uh, heh… the thing is--”

“Benny!” Ethan whined, fretting a hand through his hair.

“I know, I know, I’m trying to find a reversal spell.”

“Because that’s going so smoothly,” Ethan snarked, then paled, “Sorry. I’m just-- agh, I don’t know what’s going on.”

Benny nodded. He didn’t either.

To be fair, he didn’t deserve all the blame. He’d only glanced over the spell once in a decades-old book with more dust than ink-- and then amateurly attempted it. At least it wasn’t a reanimated animal this time.

He could handle a door. Right?

“Let’s just calm down and think about this rationally,” Ethan suggested. He pulled out a chair and sat next to Benny.

Somehow, just Ethan’s very presence soothed Benny’s worries. When Ethan was near him, it was similar to a feeling of… indestructibility. Like nothing could stop them. Benny didn’t know how to feel about that.

Ethan smiled worriedly, always trying to stay lucid in tough situations, and Benny smiled in response. With Ethan by his side, he had no doubt that they could fix this.

“What spell did you use?”

“Well… uh… fire something, made the door lock.”

“Which spell, though?”

Benny grimaced.

“E, you know I have less than one brain cell. I don’t remember. It was pretty simple, though.”

“...Okay.” Ethan sighed, “Then why did you lock it?”

“Oh.” Benny sucked in a breath and froze.

“B?” Ethan asked, scooting closer.

“I-- I wanted to talk.” Benny settled on. Hopefully that was vague enough.

His hands were shaking, so Ethan settled put a hand on his shoulder.

“We can talk. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just-- nervous,” Benny replied, uncharacteristically grave.

And suddenly the door stilled.

It was clattering viciously, intent on nearly breaking, until it abruptly suspended all movement. It was… quiet. The room seemed to shrink without the raucous noise. Benny and Ethan both stared at the quasi-normal door. There was not even a hint of a glow anymore; no sign of any previous activity.

Benny was the first to crush the silence.

“What… happened?”

“Touch my arm.”

Benny shrilly laughed. It seemed too ironic to be true. Ethan asking for physical contact? At a time like this? Right after Benny had chickened out from his confession? He couldn’t tell if it was bad or good luck, but fate was certainly poking fun at him. There was an irregular bit of hope stirring in the pit of his chest.

“Wha-- Why?” Benny choked out, chuckling.

“Vision,” Ethan said impatiently, holding out his hand.

Oh.

A vision. Not because he actually wanted to touch Benny or anything. Okay. Benny shrugged and touched Ethan’s hand hesitantly. Not that he was paying attention, but it was quite warm.

Benny was snapped out of it when Ethan shook his head.

“Nothing happened,” he frowned. He took back his arm and pursed his lips.

“Okay,” Benny simply responded.

“At least the door’s stopped, though. Maybe it opened?” Ethan got up to check. He paused before wrapping a hand around the handle, taking a deep breath.

He shook it, and the handle didn’t move.

Benny couldn’t help but chuckle deprecatingly. Oh, how the tables had turned on him. He had trapped himself in a room with the boy he was infatuated with, stuck in a crappy school building past dismissal time. It seemed destiny was pulling his leg, and he had no choice in the matter.

Ethan raised an eyebrow at the laughing.

“Nothing,” Benny quickly assured, “Just… We couldn’t even get stuck in a cool classroom like biology.”

“And we don’t have our phones,” Ethan noted, his eyebrows furrowed in thought, “No possible way of contacting others.”

Benny nodded. He didn’t know what to tag on; it was his fault they were stuck, anyway. He didn’t want to worsen it and make Ethan despise him even more .

“I… just give me a minute to think about the situation,” stressed Ethan. Benny nodded again.

Ethan sat back down and tapped his fingers on his desk. A minute passed. Benny watched him think, so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice Benny’s stares. A few more minutes passed, and the crease in Ethan’s brows was only deepening. Benny wanted to help him so badly, but he’d already messed everything up. Not only did his confession go haywire, but he botched a simple spell and trapped Ethan.

He had never regretted a spell more. Not even when he had accidentally hexed Erica’s hair green and she threatened to sacrifice him to the council for weeks. Not even when he spelled Mr. G to give him an A, and his grandma found out. Not even when he tried magicking some of Sarah’s fake blood to taste like soda and tasted it himself. Nothing could be worse than this-- this cacophony of confusion and guilt. God, he really shouldn’t dwell in his thoughts, but he couldn’t help it. Ethan looked so utterly pensive, and Benny just knew that he was the root cause of it.

His worst fears were being realized, and he didn’t have a clue about how to amend it. His relationship with Ethan was the most important thing in his life, and like everything else he touched, he ruined it.

By this time, they would have both been beyond home, probably settling in for dinner and video games.

Benny waited for Ethan to say something-- anything-- because the silence was nearly killing him, but he didn’t. Ethan just kept tapping his fingers. The desk reverberated back at him. Benny was out of the loop.

Time streamed by them fruitlessly; it stole the light from the windows and the confidence that they had. It was on a different, faster river; Benny was left to run after it.

Eventually, Ethan sighed and broke away from his thoughtful silence. He grabbed a water bottle out of his nearby bag and drank from it. He paused and held it out to Benny as an afterthought.

“You thirsty?”

In more ways than one.

Benny nodded, and snatched the bottle from Ethan’s loose grip. He chugged it, small rivulets of water catching his cheek and strolling down. He pulled away after a second and grinned, garbling through a mouth full of water.

“Imdirect kiff.”

Ethan flushed red. His ears turned a rosy shade, and he tugged some hair forward to cover them.

“Huh?” He asked, voice airy with an odd mixture of confusion and hope.

Benny didn’t reply. He was too busy gulping back the water and despairing in self-negative thoughts. He had no clue why he had done that.

Ethan was still staring at him.

Benny looked away, willing his cheeks to stop burning. They didn’t comply. And hindsight was truly a bitch. He refused to meet Ethan’s inquisitive gaze; he stared at the floor and picked at his short nails instead. Somehow, among this entire mess, he had managed to do something completely ridiculous and irrational again . In his peripheral vision, he saw Ethan twine his fingers together tightly, to the point of whiteness (one of his nervous tics). Benny’s heart stuttered.

Neither of them moved or made a sound for several minutes. There was only the combined noise of their breathing: Benny’s stilted and Ethan’s indecisively heavy.

God, nothing had ever been this awkward between them. It was so unusual-- so innately deafening for Benny to not be completely comfortable around Ethan. He was abruptly dunked in a pit of ice water, and he was left to flail in the bitterness. He was so accustomed to the warmth, and a fire was near, but-- he hadn’t the courage to pursue it. So he was silent.

It took everything in his limited willpower to not crack open a half-assed joke about being about as straight as 2 radians (because that was equal to a circle, and Ethan would love a math reference) but he didn’t. He couldn’t let himself ruin their relationship even further. Well-- if they still had a relationship and Ethan didn’t completely despise him by this point.

But then the object of his worries spoke.

“Unless… it didn’t have to be indirect?” Ethan’s voice wavered, pitchy and breaking on every other word, but Benny had never heard anything so beautiful .

Benny sputtered for a second, then managed to choke out a few words.

“Not indirect-- wait, what--”

He didn’t have the chance to finish, because Ethan was promptly burrowing under his desk and tucking his limbs away from view, husking himself into a neat shell. When he wanted to be, he could be very flexible. His shoulders folded between his knees, his head ducked into his chest, and his feet slipped underneath his body. He was nearly cornered into a fetal position, if it weren’t for the tremor in his chest and wild, watering eyes. Benny was all too familiar with these symptoms; Ethan was extremely anxious.

“E, it’s okay,” Benny soothed, forgetting all of his stressors in lieu of seeing his best friend hurting. That possessed the utmost priority.

Ethan didn’t respond, so Benny took a little step forward and continued to talk.

“I promise everything’s fine.”

“Just-- Just forget I said anything,” Ethan pleaded, lifting his head just enough to meet Benny’s eyes.

Benny didn’t know quite how to respond to that. How could he simply forget the most suggestive thing his crush has said to him in the history of their friendship? That moment was already ingrained into his memory, and he doubted it would ever leave. But instead of telling Ethan that, he simply extended a hand.

Ethan paused and took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself. He took the hand, and Benny gently hauled him up. And then, in the same motion, pulled Ethan into his chest.

“Wh--” Ethan began to squeak, but was quickly muffled by Benny’s classically striped shirt. He relaxed into the hug after a few awkward moments, tentatively wrapping his arms around Benny in reciprocation.

They had hugged before, sure, but it was never truly intimate. Usually it was a quick pull and release, or a light half-hug in pictures. They friendship was never very physically close; that was largely a result of the stigmatic culture that they grew up in. Besides, playing video games together was much more fun than have tickle-fights. This time, though, this hug was different-- it was a mental connection as well as physical.

Benny sighed into the hug; it was such a simple gesture, but it seemed that all of his chaotic fretting was vanquished as soon as he was pressed against Ethan. The naturally subduing aura of Ethan was only amplified through physical contact.

Idly, he noticed that more than a few seconds had passed. Was this too long of a hug? Was he making this awkward? Benny grimaced and pulled back, suddenly feeling bad, but--

Ethan didn’t let him get far at all, tugging him back into the hug with a strength neither of them knew he possessed.

“Stay,” mumbled Ethan.

“Okay.” Benny surprisedly breathed out in response. The things he would do for this boy .

“I’m sorry,” said Ethan, ever-apologetic, and Benny couldn’t help but shaking his head against Ethan’s hair.

“Don’t be sorry. I-- uh-- I wanted to talk to you about-- stuff. Actually.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah.”

Benny failed to elaborate. Ethan lifted his head just enough to stare Benny directly in his eyes, maintaining fierce eye contact. He wasn’t joking around.

“Stuff?” Ethan repeated. He raised a hand, almost as if he were to tuck back the hair falling in front of Benny’s eyes, but then changed his mind and dropped it.

Benny averted his eyes, opting to stare at the door. The moment was finally here. Ethan was asking him so directly, so intently that he couldn’t bring himself to lie. It was actually happening; he was going to confess his undying love for Ethan Morgan. Where he had been previously anxious, Ethan’s “indirect” comment was fueling him. He was on top of the world with adrenaline.

“Uh, well, there aren’t any cherry blossoms falling around us like, uh, all successful anime confessions go, but-- but yeah. So basically I’m in lo-- I love you.” Benny nervously chuckled. He studied Ethan’s face very closely, noting all of the emotions that cycled through it: first confusion, then surprise, then contemplation, a bit of sadness, and then contentedness. Or what Benny hoped was some form of contentedness. Ethan’s face settled on that last emotion, holding it for a time akin to forever; neither of them moved in fear of… so many things. The unknown, rejection, loss of each other-- But it didn’t happen.

After several long moments, Ethan’s thin smile cracked into a wide grin.

“I love you too, dork.”

“So…” Benny prompted, lopsidedly grinning just as wide as Ethan now.

Ethan quirked his brows as a silent question.

“Maybe we could get started on making it not indirect--”

And then the door shuddered, trembled, and rounded it all off with a clicking noise. It wasn’t glowing or moaning anymore, just… still.

Ethan, who had been curled against Benny’s chest, pulled away and hesitantly stepped toward the door. He watched it carefully for a few seconds, before deciding something in his head and walking up to it. Benny almost called out to him, was on the verge of warning him to not mess with fickle magic or he might get hurt, but Ethan had his hand wrapped around the handle before he could. With a subtle but effective flick of the wrist, he turned the knob, and the door… opened. It hinged into the classroom, revealing the empty hallways behind it, inanimate and soundless as ever. It was so normal .

The next thing Benny registered, Ethan was doubled over laughing.

“E…?” He asked, confused beyond belief.

“I-- It--” Ethan laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Benny didn’t understand at all.

“I had a hunch. It-- Your spell was fire-based, right? Fire is connected to passion, and draws power from intensity and enthusiasm. When you cast it, it… Latched onto your conflicted feelings, and created a warped version of a piecewise equation.”

“E, I don’t get how algebra messed up my magic.”

“Imagine it like this: if you still had unexpressed feelings, the door would be shut, and if you had expressed feelings, the door would open.”

“Bruh,” Benny said, at a loss for words. His magic spell had held him hostage in an attempt to get him to disclose his crush? Shit. He would have to ask his Grandma about that later (if she didn’t kill him for his stunt in the first place). Magic backfiring against him was a lot more worrisome than him merely messing up a spell (which he had assumed he had done).

“It’s okay,” Ethan assured him, “It’s all better now. Just… be careful with your powers, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom,” Benny bit back without any real anger. He was more upset with himself for letting this happen.

“B,” called Ethan affectionately, “Come on. Let’s go home, play some new meta, and forget this ever happened.”

Benny looked up from his inner turmoil like a possum caught in headlights.

“Forget… all of it?” Benny asked.

“No. Not all of it. Forget your worries.”

“Hakuna matata,” Benny weakly responded.

“Forget the feeling that you’d ever have to be scared of me,” Ethan clarified. He stepped away from the unlocked door and returned to Benny’s side. He held a hand up and finally brushed that piece of hair out of Benny’s face-- this time, without any hesitancy.

“I--” Benny started, but then Ethan was getting closer, so close, and--

Well, with the way that their lips connected like two halves forming a whole, and the way Ethan’s arms slid seamlessly behind Benny’s neck, and the way time slowed for their benefit--

There was no way it was indirect.

#bethan #mbav #my babysitter's a vampire #mbavholidayexchange #mbav holiday exchange

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ivyveil · 6 years ago

Text

Have Yourself a Harry Christmas Part 0.5

the one where Y/N has an email and Harry is in a bed

A/N: This was my most popular series and I’ve decided to re-upload it! :) Check here for the masterlist.

The moonlight trickled into the room through slated blinds. The ghosted illusion of jail-cell bars streamed against the cream pillows on the bed, the scattered perfumes on the dresser, and the piled books on the desk. It was mostly quiet, although sometimes the noise of traffic outside the cluster of windows would rise above the standard, muffled hum, marking clearly the presence of intoxicated friends dancing away the blues of the week. It was a late Friday night.

Besides that, the room held its peace. The keyboard’s clacking had dulled into background noise and nothing broke the gentle vibe of a ‘late night haze’ for a while.

His voice was crusted with a thick sleep, as if he had been stirring between dreams and reality for quite some time, but Y/N could distinguish the sharp sense of annoyance that had led to the words being spoken. He was pissed but not awake enough to raise his voice above a grunt.

“Are you comin’ to bed?”

Y/N sat at the desk, her legs tucked up on the swivel chair and her sweater hanging down one shoulder. One earbud was in, and the music was quiet so as to not disturb his sleep, and her laptop was as dim as she could make it. Various websites and emails were up on her screen, a multitude of tabs cluttering the screen, and intermittently she would begin typing, pause, and then sigh in dissatisfaction, before clicking away onto social media.

It was late, she knew that. Or perhaps it was early at this point. She didn’t want to see the time, even put a piece of duct tape over that part of her screen so as not to tempt herself. She felt guilty already, at her lack of desire to go to bed. After all, he was there. In her apartment, after another wonderful night spent together, and now they wouldn’t have the joy of falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Most likely, if the night continued in the direction it had been, Y/N would wake up with her face smushed against the laptop. With the websites still pulled up, perhaps a sleep-derived tweet posted here or there.

She just couldn’t find it within her to go to bed. In the beginning, her body had fought back, sending waves of yawns to stretch her mouth and reaching her hand up to rub her eyes, but her mind was wide awake. And mind over matter, she’d stay up.

“Soon,” she promised in his general direction, her eyes briefly flickering over the top of her computer towards him, but it was as if she hadn’t said anything at all. He didn’t respond.

The room was quiet again, but the peace had left.

They had spent more nights together than not in the past month, with their closets slowly integrating and their morning routines broken up to accommodate the other’s needs. She wished she could go to bed, curl up against his chest, and wake up as he pressed soft kisses against the apples of her cheeks. Y/N wished it could be that simple, and that he wouldn’t get frustrated simply over the fact that she wasn’t next to him. It was sweet, definitely, but she just needed to do her own thing for the time being.

Sighing to herself, Y/N minimized all the tabs that had been open, except for the last one.

The most important one, the one that had been causing her grief since 8:00 pm that night. It was an email, which was not inherently strange, but the message was certainly unexpected.

And Y/N wasn’t sure how to deal with ‘unexpected’, especially when it had made her give an awful sort of squeak during his TV show, when she first saw it, and he had looked down, eyebrows furrowed.

“What is it?”

Y/N had immediately turned her phone off, tucking it against her chest as she gave him a soft smile. She gently kissed the underside of his jaw, feeling him hum with contentment, and shook her head.

“Just won my game of Sudoku. Tricky bastard, you know how it is.”

He had been satisfied with that response and pulled her in closer, mumbling something about how amazing it was he had landed himself such a smart girl.

The email was short, bitterly so - enough that it could’ve been a text, but instead was an email. The reasons behind that had bothered Y/N for hours, and she had tried almost everything to distract herself. A YouTube video of vine compilations was in front of her Twitter feed, which was in front of her Facebook feed, and her Hulu account was at the way back, in case she wanted to watch some Chopped. But not even her favorite show could stop her thoughts from going back to the fucking email.

Email was such an outdated concept, anyway. Might as well send a pigeon messenger her way, it would’ve reached the same conclusion. (Not really, but Y/N wasn’t feeling like being particularly rational. Not when she was left to her thoughts.)

With a slight twist of her swivel chair and a curled lip at her own weakness, she pulled the tab with the email back up. Y/N moved her cursor around the letters, mouthing them to herself as she propped up her face with one hand. She pushed her hips forward to scoot the chair, reaching up to grip onto the table to bring herself closer, so her heavy-lidded eyes didn’t have to squint further to see the screen.

She needed to form a response, both for the sake of the email and the grand scheme of communication, and for herself. It didn’t matter, what had happened almost two months ago, because that was then and this was now.

Y/N realized her eyes had unfocused, zoned out over the end of the email. Shaking her head, she read it again, sitting up and moving her fingers to type out a reply. She wanted to sound casual, to not give off the impression that she had spent the last four hours bent over her laptop, avoiding this very interaction.

Yes! I’m free tomorrow. 10 am, Myrtle’s Coffee?

Y/N kept looking at the screen, refreshing her emails as if a response would immediately register, which was unlikely because it was so late/early and she knew she would end up in this circle, damn, and-

She started.

A new email was within the list now, a stack of communications with a bold one on top. Because that’s how the system of email was created, but Y/N couldn’t help and add some extra, dramatic importance to the moment. Especially since her exhaustion had kicked in a bit, and her desk was looking rather inviting as a makeshift bed…

With one last look at the screen, Y/N’s hands reached out to close her laptop, the satisfaction of a response settling her tense shoulders a bit. The noise of the computer shutting stirred him a bit, on the bed, but he hummed some general ‘hmph’ and then the room was cloaked in silence once more.

The cold type of silence, the one that made Y/N question certain things about her life that really shouldn’t change. Stuff she couldn’t alter without changing who she was as a person, the late-night thoughts that had the tendency of tormenting everyone.

Y/N took out her earbud, dropping the headphones unceremoniously onto the desk as she stood up. Stretching out her limbs, curving backwards and letting out a small grunt of sleepiness, she padded over to the bed, flipping the comforter open so she could slide in. The analysis of the situation had, for the moment, left her brain – her mind had seemingly decided that it had gone through enough, and the rest could be sorted through in the morning.

Her cold toes meeting his legs caused him to shift, slightly, before allowing her to cuddle properly against his body. The familiar scent of woodsy trees and cinnamon made her heart flutter as she hid her grin against his warm skin.

“Night, Y/N,” he mumbled, the words bordering the barely-awake consciousness of someone barely stirred in their sleep, only half-registering her arms wrapping around his bare chest.

“Night, Spence.” she whispered, pressing a kiss on his chest and closing her eyes, allowing sleep to wash over her. It happened slowly, and then all at once, carrying her onward to tomorrow and all the uncertainty it held.

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A few minutes before Y/N slid into bed, Harry Styles was on his phone, somewhere across town. The glow from the screen lit up his face, his eyes that were barely open and his lips that had become, within his murky thoughts, pursed and full in its pout. His cheek was against the silk sheets, his arms tucked up by his chest to hold his phone up as he hit “reply”, the comforter reaching up to his shoulder.

He wondered if he would be too fast in responding, but that would call up the concern that he would have something to be nervous about. And Y/N was just a friend; it had happened a month ago - or was it two months, he couldn’t remember - and nothing had really stirred between them since then. But, the existence of those thoughts, was it a sign within itself that he hadn’t completely lost his feelings for her?

Harry was unsure.

He typed out his response to Y/N with his tongue poking out between his lips.

“See…yeh…then…” he whispered as he finished typing, and hit ‘send’ immediately. He turned off his phone and set it on the bedside table, next to the frustrating stack of unfinished songs, letting the darkness of the room expand out to him, as well.

With a deep sigh, Harry closed his eyes and ran his hand down his face, slumping down into his pillows. Tomorrow would be good, he decided, an opportunity to show to himself that he only felt complete platonic care for Y/N, and the desire to kiss her had been a one-time thing. It wouldn’t happen again, that was for sure.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, in the mesh of memories concerning books, gnomes, and axes, Harry shifted over on the bed. He yanked down the cord of his lamp, ignoring its clanging against the metal base, and reached down to the floor to pick up a pen he had tossed an hour ago, in his fit of writer’s block. Shuffling through the papers, he found the one he was looking for. Resting on his tummy, trying to blink the exhaustion away, Harry Styles began to write.

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I’m back in town. Staying for a while. Hang out? x. -H.

Yes! I’m free tomorrow. 10 am, Myrtle’s Coffee?

The usual? Sounds great. See you then. -H.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts here, and check out the rest of my works if you’d like!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #saint nick verse #snv

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gabriel4sam · 7 years ago

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kiss meme: 15, codywan. okay i'll stop now, i don't want to be greedy lol.

15A kiss because I have literally been watching you all night and I can’t take anymore

At the end, when everything had been done, Sidious dead and the galaxy getting, slowly, better, the clones and the Jedi had learned about Order 66. Everybody had been horrified and a few Jedi had long hours of meditation ahead of them to be sure the revelation of what almost had been done to their men didn’t make them Fall. But nobody took him worse than the vode. To be in that way stripped of their free will, of the little part of free will that had been there…and to be stripped to kill their Generals. They had been made for the Jedi, they were theirs, as they were the Jedi’s. To learn they were supposed to kill them to the last one, to the last Commander, the last Knight, the last shiny, the last baby… The clones left. In masse, they deserted and ran to the only place they had known outside of war: they ran to Kamino and some cloners had difficult questions asked, a blaster in front of their flat noses. And they stayed. When the last one of them had been operated of the chips. When they saw on the holonet the Republic and the Separatist finally beginning to negotiate after Sidious’ scheme had been brought to light. When Chancellor Organa was elected. They stayed and they stayed and they stayed, clinging to their salted city like some sort of armed to the teeth barnacle. They stayed until the Jedi finally came for them. “It’s time to come home.” Master Koon had said, soaked to the last tunic, outside of the blast doors of Tipoca city. “Open the doors.” Master Gallia had pleaded. “We miss you, friends.” Master Billaba had said. “You can’t stay here all your life. There is a whole galaxy in peace for you to explore and learn.” Master Windu had remarked, slightly exasperated, before sneezing. “Come on, it’s been six months since Sidious’s death, it’s getting ridiculous!” Young Caleb Dume had tried. It had been devious of the Jedi to try sending a young one and three vode had needed to sit on their brother Stance to be sure he wouldn’t sneak out to meet with his friend, but this time, like every time, the doors had stay closed, the Jedi out in the rain, the clones inside, decided to stay here, here where they couldn’t hurt their Jedi. Then the Negotiator had come, at dawn, and a rare ray of sun had seemed to crown him in fire, his hair glittering. Some vode had spoken of disabling the audio of the external sensors of the doors: that man’s tongue was a weapon, after all, way more dangerous that the blue lightsaber on his belt, but Kenobi had said nothing. He had simply unfolded a seat and…and done nothing. Only waited in full view of the principal door’s cameras. Ten minutes after, it had started to rain like it did on Kamino. Kenobi had simply raised his cloak around his head. “This idiot will catch his death.” Helix, Kenobi’s troops medic, had said two hours later when it became evident the Jedi wasn’t using the Force to shield himself from rain. “Every man of the 212th shadowed by one of the 501th. You eat together, sleep together, shower together. Fives, I know what you want to say, don’t. ” Rex had decreed, earning himself a truly impressing glare of Cody. “We’re totally able to control ourselves, thank you.”“That’s not you I’m the most worried of.” Rex had answered. “Oh come on,” Helix was yelling. “Does he really intent to sleep here? On that kriffin folding bed, outside in the rain? He has a perfectly good ship right here! Did he lose the last of his brain’s cells? I’m gonna tell him…” and Helix was already half outside the room before a brother stopped him. “And Kenobi had been here for two hours.” Rex remarked. Fifty six hours, that was what Kenobi had needed. He had eaten cold rations in the rain, slept on a coat in the rain, stayed in the rain, and a less stubborn human being, or one without the Force, would probably have renounced, or caught his death, long before that. It had simply come to that. A lover watching his lover by the eyes of the cameras, his gaze retracing hours after hours the shape of Kenobi’s face, slightly distorted by the transmission, and only stopping when his brother came to fetch him and insisted others kept watch behind the monitors. A long, long night, after another long day of watching Kenobi doing his best to catch a pneumonia. Kix had sedated Helix, who was foaming at the mouth at the sheer idiocy of his general. Cody had watched all night, incapable of even leaving his seat to try for sleep. He had watched like a man possessed, hours after hours, what little the outside lights let see of Obi-Wan’s shape in the coat. And then at dawn, he had left the room. Nobody had tried to stop him, even when he had arrived to the doors. For the first time in months, he had gone outside and simply woken up Obi-Wan with a kiss. Just before dragging him under a warm shower, half growling, half menacing, and totally not appeased by the “Yes, dear.” And “Of course, Cody” and “Of course I have had my shoots against pulmonary infections.”

#codywan #star wars #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #the clone wars #kiss meme #my fic

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delwray-blog · 6 years ago

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THE REAL LIFE SUPERMAN

THE COMING OF THE REAL LIFE SUPERMAN

The Church to be withdrawn before this Superman is revealed.

"And now ye know what withholdeth that he might be revealed in his time. For the mystery of iniquity doth already work: only he who now letteth will let, until he be taken out of the way." 2 Thess. 2:6-7

“The Coming Superman”

"And this is that spirit of Antichrist, whereof ye have heard that it should come; and even now already is it in the world." 1 John 4:3. The Chosen People I am not an enemy of the Jews. For many years my written and spoken utterances have abounded with such phrases as "There is a very real sense in which the Jews are God's Chosen People. Taken as a whole they are the most remarkable race of people in the world. They have retained their existence as a separate and distinct people in spite of hundreds of years of persecution. The most ingenious methods have been used by other nations in seeking their destruction but they have weathered every storm. In the coming world crisis, the Jew will play an important part in the drama of fulfilled Bible prophecy. And, let it be remembered that Jesus Christ came to earth dressed in the garb of a Jew." For nineteen hundred years these strange people have wandered over the earth, like the legend of the Wandering Jew, without a homeland; yet they have retained their race consciousness and are more firmly banded together today than any other nation in the world. This very thing makes them the great miracle of both history and prophecy. No other feature need be considered to confirm the fact that over them there exists a providential leadership. A Blessing and a Curse From Genesis to Revelation we read of their origin, national victories, apostasy, delusions, suffering and final triumph. No matter where they go or what they do, as a nation, they are simply being poured into the molds of prophecy, fulfilling a predestinated purpose. It is impossible to understand the historic and prophetic phases of the Bible without understanding the position of the Jews with reference to the program of the ages. Though they frequently prove to be a curse to the world, yet their ultimate blessing is assured because we are told that following the coming epoch of world-wide "tribulation" that "They shall declare my glory among the Gentiles." Isaiah 66:19. The Genesis prophecy will then be fulfilled, "Thou shalt be a blessing." The promise made to father Abraham has been fulfilled a thousand times, "And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed." Genesis 12:3. But when considering their virtues and blessings in one period of history, we are also duty bound to contemplate their short-comings and observe what a curse they have been to other periods. The present age in which we are living finds them in a "delusion", as described in Isaiah 66:4. We are also reminded that on the day of the mock trial of their Messiah, Whom they rejected, they invited a national curse, in these words, "His blood be on us, and on our children." Some of the prophecies describing them as being a dangerous channel of mischief and evil to the world are as follows: "Thou shalt become an astonishment a proverb, and a byword among all nations." "Thou makest us a byword among the brethren, a shaking of the head among the people." "A reproach a taunt and a curse in all places." "This people's heart is waxed gross and their ears are dull of hearing and their eyes have they closed." Perverted Egotism The Jews are essentially egotistical people. Embedded deep in the subconscious strata of their natures is the everlasting feeling that "I am better than thou." In olden times Gentiles were called "dogs". It is in the blood of the Jew to look with contempt upon other nationalities. No matter how he may try to overcome it, the feeling always lingers with him, that he is superior to others that he is made from special cloth. This would be a legitimate assumption if his people were loyal to their calling and true to the moral principles and commandments of the Bible. But in his present condition, he is apostate and his bigoted attitude only becomes an egotistical perversion. Being of superior intellect and possessed of superfine intuitive, soul and emotional qualities, when the Jew becomes self-centered and hypnotized with the delusion of his own powers, he is capable of sinking to depths untouched by mortals of lesser mental and spiritual equipment. Gentile persecution has isolated and made him bitter. Resistance in opposing his persecutors has, in turn, made him strong. In overcoming his enemies he has become sly, subtle, cunning and deceptive. It is in his deepest religious nature to take advantage of the Gentile "dogs" who have sought his destruction for so many centuries. His spiritual sentiments lack the altruistic outlook upon life. He crucified the One Who taught, "All things whatsoever ye would that men do to you, do ye even so to them." Predicted Return to Palestine It is the consensus of opinion among the nations of the world that the Jew is the rightful owner of Palestine and that it is only a question of time until the Zionist Movement will succeed in its attempt toward restoration. The World War broke the grip of the Turk upon the Holy Land thus making possible the inflow of a Jewish population. For more than one hundred years, students of eschatology have been describing the return of the Jews exactly as we see them going back today. It is prophesied that they will return in unbelief and spiritual darkness. Their success will not be the result of deep religious convictions accompanied by the piety of their fathers so much as from political maneuvering and financial scheming. As a matter of fact, the triumph of restoration occurs during a time of dark apostasy. And when the various leaders of Zionism pull out of the nations of the world they will take so much gold that an economic collapse will be certain to follow. It is reliably reported that a small group of wealthy Jews control the financial destiny of the entire world and could affect a foreclosure at any time. They are said to hold a mortgage on civilization. The present quickening of the national consciousness in Jewry is described symbolically by Jesus in the twenty-fourth chapter of Matthew as "the budding of the fig tree." In prophecy, the fig tree typifies Israel. Jesus predicted that the sap of patriotism would come up in the veins of the nation as we see it being done at the present time. The entire nation is now energized by a new spirit. A Mystery of Iniquity The inner workings of what appears to be the most mysterious, gigantic and diabolical plot ever perpetrated against an unsuspecting world has been uncovered in recent years by certain breath-taking disclosures. For years the writer has been sifting reports, making observations and accumulating material; step by step and fact upon fact, certain hidden forces have been traced back, back, back to their secret sources, and if the evidence reaching him is based upon actual facts, then it is safe to say that a certain group of heartless, wealthy, powerful Jews are guilty of a monstrous wrong which cannot do other than eventually react against their race. Were it not for my knowledge of Bible prophecy, I would be utterly without explanation for this alleged crime against Gentile civilization. But with a knowledge of the prophetic Scriptures it is not difficult to trace the Antichrist spirit through the entire chain of evidence and see how the nations of earth are preparing themselves, and moving unmistakably toward the final and inevitable period of universal suffering, when our humanity will literally burn itself out in the white fires of its own lusts. The present world-wide economic collapse, the breaking down of moral standards, the ever-increasing corruption in politics, the disrespect for law and order, the growing selfishness and suspicion existing between nations, the general disregard for God, the birth and development of Communism and the atheaizing of the masses of people, may all be explained by the hypothetical proposition that behind the scenes there is A HIDDEN HAND; “THE POWERS THAT BE”; a small group of super-intelligent personalities who control the gold of the world and pull wires for the deliberate purpose of tearing down the Gentile peoples. Fantastic as this may seem at first glance, careful observation reveals that such a hideous scheme is a decided possibility. When facing these disclosures, one comes to understand, in a new way, the meaning of Paul's words, "For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." Evil Forces Rooted in Personality All destructive ideas originate in the plastic, formless realm of the abstract and become potent only when embodied in the brain cells of rational personalities, thus becoming concrete. The whole invisible sphere of the mind and spirit of man is inhabited by intelligent forces. When the mind hurls itself into a great mental wave, it is like the contact formed when two electric wires are united. Sparks are generated. The unseen becomes seen, the invisible cause produces a visible effect, and the personality becomes obsessed with a creative impulse. Satan, therefore, works through personalities, even as God also accomplishes His purposes through personalities. Black and white currents flow constantly from hidden sources out into the world. It is decidedly possible for men to permit themselves to come under the control of demon powers. Black dragons and white angels fight constantly for race supremacy. Things do not just happen. Back of every effect, there must be an adequate cause. Behind every abnormal condition with which the human family is victimized, there are equivalent evil forces. I knew that the hellish agencies which are today going out to the ends of the earth, had to have their secret octopus-roots fastened in demon-possessed brains somewhere; so I started reasoning from effects back to causes. I soon came upon the amazing discovery of what purports to be a conspiracy, which is centuries old, to overthrow the religious and governmental systems of the Gentile world. Disraeli, the Jewish Premier of England, once said, "The world is governed by very different personages from what is imagined by those who are not behind the scenes." I believe this to be literally true. There is cause to suppose that about three hundred men from different parts of the world, work behind the scenes, pull wires and launch schemes for the purpose of accomplishing their selfish ends, to promote world chaos. And, I firmly believe that it was in this realm that Communism had its origin. The Protocols In the British Museum, there is a strange volume called The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion bearing the date of August 10th, 1906, the time that it was received. The book was published by Professor Sergyei Nilus, a Russian, in 1905. When Kerensky began his agitation against the Czar, which resulted in the final overthrow of the Russian government, his régime demanded the destruction of all the Nilus books but a few copies were preserved, one finally making its way to the British Museum. To own a copy has become a sufficient crime in Russia to ensure the owner's being shot on sight by the Reds. I have before me as I write, a translation of the original document by Victor E. Marsden, who was for many years the Correspondent for the London Morning Post, in Russia, and after being banished by the Communists he returned to England to become personal Correspondent for his newspaper to the Prince of Wales on his world tour. Mr. Marsden believed in the authenticity of The Protocols and made what is regarded by many as being the most perfect translation from the Nilus production ever prepared. We are told, "Mr. Marsden was eminently qualified for the work. His intimate acquaintance with Russia, Russian life and the Russian language on the one hand, and his mastery of a terse literary English style on the other, placed him in a position of advantage which few others could claim." Mr. Edgar E. Strother, a missionary in China, is responsible for the publication of the Marsden translation which was made from the original in the British Museum and he says, "They (The Protocols) contain, it seems to me, the only explanation of the real origin of Bolshevism and its programme of worldwide Revolution. The public should be permitted to have this information." The Protocols first attracted wide attention in the United States some years ago when Mr. Henry Ford began discussing them in his Dearborn Independent as a part of an exposure of the activities of "the International Jew." On February 17th, 1921, he said, "The only statement I care to make about The Protocols is that they fit in with what is going on. They are sixteen years old, and they have fitted the world situation up to this time. They fit it now." Even, a casual perusal of the documents will show that they fit world conditions much better now than they did twelve years ago when Mr. Ford made the above statement. We are reminded, however, that about three years ago Mr. Ford made a lukewarm apology, praising the Jews and reversing his attitude of opposition to them, which was taken generally to be a repudiation of his previous convictions. It is, of course, well known that his turn-about-face was not made until after powerful Jews had forced him into several legal battles. None of the litigation with which he became involved had anything to do with his use of The Protocols as far as we know. His exposure brought down upon him the wrath of powerful Jews and the constant attack to which he was subjected evidently proved too much for him. At any rate, his mouth was closed on the subject. But the stubborn fact remains that the very things which the HIDDEN HAND of international Jews is said to have threatened, in these papers, are coming to pass exactly as outlined. The prophecy contained in The Protocols and their fulfillment among the nations is too glaring to be ignored. Professor Nilus averred that immediately prior to the time he made his translation in 1905, the innermost circle of Jewish financial wizards of the various nations held a secret meeting. The Protocols are claimed to be the "minutes of the proceedings" of the so-called Learned Elders of Zion at that meeting. Nilus said that the leaders discussed plans and methods for extending their program of Gentile catastrophe. This terribly inhuman document purports to be a publication of the records and speeches which the leaders made during the particular meeting concerning which Nilus claimed to have first-hand information. It is emphasized that the rank and file of the Jewish population knows little or nothing of the existence and activities of the heartless leaders. Notwithstanding, the HIDDEN HAND, with its control of gold, is recognized as having sufficient power to mold all Jewry according to its plans and purposes. It also has it in its power to manipulate affairs behind the scenes to the extent of virtually holding the Gentile peoples of the earth in the palm of their hand. Because of their apostasy and "delusion" the Elders feel that they are doing the will of God in breaking down Gentile power and at the same time they are paving the way for the coming of a Messiah of their own making, a Messiah who will meet the requirements for establishing a temporal kingdom which will bring the entire world under their control. It will be recalled that the Jews rejected the true Messiah two thousand years ago because He lacked earthly power. The coming of a humanly made Messiah-Superman is clearly prophesied in the Bible. Prophetic students call him the Antichrist. Jesus referred to the coming false Messiah when He said to a group of Jews one day, "I am come in my Father's name, and ye receive me not: if another shall come in his own name, him ye will receive." The Protocols breathe the spirit of Antichrist and if true, they are certainly paving the way for the coming Dictator who Paul called "The Man of Sin" and "The Son of Perdition." The stage is being set; the Antichrist will soon put in his appearance. He will come out of Central Europe, from the borders of the Old Roman Empire, according to Daniel. The Symbolic Snake As to the identity of the Elders whose meetings Professor Nilus claimed to have reported, Mr. Strother says, "They are not the 'Board of Deputies' (the Jewish Parliament in England) or the 'Universal Israelite Alliance' which sits in Paris. But the late Walter Rathenau of the Allgemeiner Electricitaets Gesellschaft has thrown a little light on the subject and doubtless, he was in possession of their names, being, in all likelihood, one of the chief leaders himself. Writing in the Wiener Freie Presse, December 24th, 1912, he said: 'Three hundred men (Jews, of course), each of whom knows all the others, govern the fate of the European continent, and they elect their successors from their entourage.'" Mr. Strother remarks that while The Protocols are frequently called forgeries, yet "they never attempt to answer the facts." He also points out that the "threats" contained in the documents are coming true exactly as stated. This he submits, to be sufficient proof of their authenticity. Nilus says that the organization of Elders dates as far back as the time of Solomon who "thought out a scheme in theory for a peaceful conquest of the whole universe by Zion." That Solomon used the Gentiles as tools for the carrying out of his plans will be recalled by all students of Old Testament history. It is assumed that the Elders has been a self-propagating body as it has come down through the centuries, its power having been greatly reinforced during recent decades. In the writings of Nilus we read, "These learned men decided by peaceful means to conquer the world for Zion with the slyness of the Symbolic Snake, whose head was to represent those who have been initiated into the plans of the Jewish administration, and the body of the Snake to represent the Jewish people, the administration was always kept secret, even from the Jewish nation itself. As this Snake penetrated into the hearts of the nations which it encountered, it undermined and devoured all the non-Jewish power of these States. It is foretold that the Snake has still to finish its work, strictly adhering to the designed plan, until the course which it has to run is closed by the return of its head to Zion and until, by this means, the Snake has completed its round of Europe and has encircled it, and until, by dint of enchaining Europe, it has encompassed the whole world. This it is to accomplish by using every endeavor to subdue the other countries by an economic conquest. "The return of the head of the Snake to Zion can only be accomplished after the power of all the Sovereigns of Europe has been laid low, that is to say, when by means of economic crises and wholesale destruction effected everywhere there shall have been brought about a spiritual demoralization and a moral corruption, chiefly with the assistance of Jewish women masquerading as French, Italians, etc. These are the surest spreaders of licentiousness into the lives of the leading men at the heads of nations." The last paragraph reminds one of King Carol of Rumania whose illicit affair with the Jewess daughter of a blacksmith during the last few years has made him a disgrace in the eyes of the world and driven his wife and son from the palace and into exile. Regarding the mystery of the snake, Nilus continues, "A map of the course of the Symbolic Snake is shown as follows: Its first stage in Europe was in 429 B.C. in Greece, where, in the time of Pericles, the Snake first started eating into the power of that country. The second stage was in Rome in the time of Augustus, about 69 B.C. The third in Madrid in the time of Charles V., in 1552 A.D. The fourth in Paris about 1790, in the time of Louis XVI. The fifth in London from 1814 onwards (after the downfall of Napoleon). The sixth in Berlin in 1871 after the Franco-Prussian war. The seventh in St. Petersburg, over which is drawn the head of the Snake under the date of 1881. "All these states which the Snake traversed have had the foundations of their constitutions shaken, Germany, with its apparent power, forming no exception to the rule. In economic conditions, England and Germany are spared, but only till the conquest of Russia is accomplished by the Snake, on which at present (i.e., 1905) all its efforts are concentrated. The further course of the Snake is shown on this map, but arrows indicate its next movement towards Moscow, Kiev, and Odessa." Without Conscience There are twenty-four Protocols in the series, each being a separate outline of attack on Gentile morals, religion, and government. It is a religious conviction on the part of the Elders to batter down every good thing that has ever been built by non-Jewish hands. The theory is, "Whatever is, is wrong and must be destroyed" until such time as Israel can gain control of the helm of the world. By their religious philosophy, they actually justify themselves in the light of their own conscience. We learn from this that the conscience is a tricky instrument. By way of illustration, we turn to the ninth Protocol, "For us, there are no checks to limit the range of our activity. Our Super-Government subsists in extra-legal conditions which are described in the accepted terminology by the energetic and forcible word, Dictatorship. I am in a position to tell you with a clear conscience that at the proper time we, the law-givers, shall execute judgment and, sentence, we shall slay and we shall spare, we, as head of all our troops, are mounted on the steed of the leader. We rule by force of will because in our hands are the fragments of a once powerful party, now vanquished by us. And the weapons in our hands are limitless ambitions, burning greediness, merciless vengeance, hatred, and malice. "It is from us that the all-engulfing terror proceeds. We have in our service persons of all opinions, of all doctrines, restoration monarchists, demagogues, socialists, communists, and utopian dreamers of every kind. We have harnessed them all to the task: each one of them on his own account is boring away at the last remnants of authority, is striving to overthrow all established form of order. By these acts all States are in torture; they exhort to tranquility, are ready to sacrifice everything for peace: but we will not give them peace until they openly acknowledge our international Super-Government, and with submissiveness." In Protocol eleven we read, "The Gentiles are a flock of sheep, and we are their wolves. And you know what happens when the wolves get hold of the flock?" The eleventh document also says that the curse of dispersion throughout the world which the Jews have suffered is, in reality, a blessing because it has taken their power into places which would never have been touched otherwise. It says, "God has granted to us, His Chosen People, the gift of the dispersion, and in this which appears in all eyes to be our weakness, has come forth all our strength, which has now brought us to the threshold of sovereignty over all the world. There now remains not much more for us to build up upon the foundation we have laid." Fulfilled Threats The twenty-four Protocols are actually just so many links in a chain of threats, threats which are in process of coming to pass every day. We will now go through the records briefly, quote a few statements and place them in parallel with their current and obvious fulfillment. Every root force which the Elders discussed back in 1905, as reported in The Protocols, is actually in operation today, most of them having been set in motion during the last few years. "Liberalism" The first Protocol emphasizes the matter of "Liberalism" in government. We shall now sum up the principal statements regarding this line of attack which has been launched for the purpose of destroying faith in the governments of the world and undermining all law and order. It will be necessary to make a few random quotations, in order to show the power of the HIDDEN HAND, as it has maneuvered in this direction during recent years. Nilus quotes the leader of the Elders as saying, "In the times when the peoples looked upon kings on their thrones as on a pure manifestation of the will of God they submitted without a murmur to the despotic power of kings: but from the day when we insinuated into their minds the conception of their own rights they began to regard the occupants of thrones as mere ordinary mortals. The holy unction of the Lord's Anointed has fallen from the heads of kings in the eyes of the people, and when we also robbed them of their faith in God the might of power was flung upon the streets into the place of public proprietorship and was seized by us. The abstraction of freedom has enabled us to persuade the mob in all countries that their government is nothing but the steward of the people who are the owners of the country, and that the steward may be replaced like a worn-out glove. Far back in ancient times we were the first to cry among the masses of the people the words 'Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,' words many times repeated since those days by stupid poll-parrots who from all sides round flew down upon these baits and with them carried away the well-being of the world, true freedom of the individual, formerly so well guarded against the pressure of the mob." The speaker discoursed at great length upon the subject of "Liberalism," and said that it was the opening wedge which they had used to pry stabilized nations loose at their foundations and had thereby created general unrest and dissatisfaction. He says, "When we introduced into the State organism the poison of Liberalism its whole political complexion underwent a change. States have been seized with a mortal illness, blood-poisoning. All that remains is to await the end of their death agony. Political freedom is an idea but not a fact. This idea one must know how to apply whenever it appears necessary with this bait of an idea to attract the masses of the people to one's party for the purpose of crushing another who is in authority. This task is rendered easier if the opponent has himself been infected with the idea of freedom, so-called Liberalism, and, for the sake of an idea, is willing to yield some of his power. It is precisely here that the triumph of our theory appears the slackened reins of government are immediate, by the law of life, caught up and gathered together by a new hand, because the blind might of the nation cannot for one single day exist without guidance, and the new authority fits into the place of the old already weakened by Liberalism." The whole world has now become inoculated with the virus of "Liberalism." The very phrase has become a kind of sacred cow to which all politicians are bowing down in adoration. The HIDDEN HAND has dramatized the principle of "Liberalism" to the point where it has become firmly fixed in the political imagination of the nations. This is borne out in the 1932 Presidential election of the United States when Franklin D. Roosevelt was swept into office under the slogan of "Liberalism." Being a man who floats along on the mass mind, it was easy to ensnare him into this trap. In his first public statement after his election, he said, "We are about to enter upon a new period of Liberalism and of sane reform in the United States, and we shall require unity of purpose, if not of opinion, if we are to achieve permanent and practical results. The United States has become a great nation, and its economic life functions along national lines, where our political life still clings too much to the political machinery of the past. As President of the United States I shall do my utmost, in co-operation with the people and with their chosen representatives, to restore the balance of our economic interests and to simplify and vitalize our political institutions, so that as changes come they may be effected without injury to the proper rights of any individual and without conflict with the spirit of American institutions." Change and revision of government seem to be uppermost in the mind of Mr. Roosevelt. We question if he even suspicions that he may be the victim of a conspiracy carried along on the crest of a wave of so-called "Liberalism" which was started from secret sources for the purpose of creating national unrest. Assault on Morality Realizing that no nation can survive a moral collapse, it is explained that the Elders have been determined to promote immorality among the Gentile masses. To do this, all manner of temptations had to be flaunted before the minds of the people, including sexual vice, polluted amusements, filthy literature, the unrestrained use of alcohol, etc. That there has been unloosed upon the nations an avalanche of immoral forces during recent years no thoughtful person will dispute. A prominent English divine said recently, "It is as though the world had been suddenly cursed by millions of sex demons beyond human control. I stand amazed at the breaking down of moral standards and am without an explanation as to the origin of the trouble." Had this noted preacher been familiar with The Protocols he would have had an idea as to the possible cause of the calamity. We will now examine a few succinct statements by the Elders, "Behold the alcoholized animals, bemused with drink, the right to an immoderate use of which comes along with freedom. It is not for us and ours to walk that road. The peoples of the goyim (non-Jews) are bemused with alcoholic liquors; their youth has grown stupid on classicism and from early immorality, into which it has been inducted by our special agents, by tutors, lackeys, governesses in the houses of the wealthy, by clerks and others, by our women in the places of dissipation frequented by the goyim. In the number of these last, I count also the so-called 'society ladies,' voluntary followers of the others in corruption and luxury. In countries known as progressive and enlightened, we have created a senseless, filthy, abominable literature." Does this account for the tons of vile literature which are released every week on the news-stands of America? Does this account for the constant carnival of immorality sponsored by the motion picture industry which, by the way, is under complete Jewish domination? The Cause of the Depression The Protocols provide a rational explanation for the depression which hit the world late in the year 1929. When the full meaning of this amazing disclosure breaks upon one's mind, it is almost stunning. Remember that Nilus prepared these documents in 1905, or twenty-four years before the economic crash of the world. Should a historian take up his pen in the next few years, look back and write about the depression, he could not write more accurately than Nilus wrote in 1905 when looking ahead. The spokesman of the Elders from which we shall now make random quotations emphasized the fact that a small group of Jews controls most of the wealth of the world and that they have it in their power to manipulate forces and pull wires in the background, in a way to produce any kind of economic conditions they may wish. He says, "This hatred will be still further magnified by the effects of an economic crisis, which will stop dealings on the exchanges and bring industry to a standstill. We shall create by all the secret subterranean methods open to us and with the aid of gold, which is all in our hands, a universal economic crisis whereby we shall throw upon the streets whole mobs of workers simultaneously in all the countries of Europe. These mobs will rush delightedly to shed the blood of those whom, in the simplicity of their ignorance, they have envied from their cradles, and whose property they will then be able to loot. 'Ours' they will not touch, because the moment of attack will be known to us and we shall take measures to protect our own." Notice the threat to "throw upon the streets whole mobs" of unemployed men. As these words are written there are 12,700,000 idle working men in the United States and conditions in Europe and other parts of the world are even worse. The above threat also says that these men will automatically become criminals and will form themselves into "mobs" to "rush delightedly to shed the blood" of their leaders. What a picture of conditions of the world at this moment! What a picture of the Communistic revolutionary spirit as we see it in the world today! These Elders, what heartless wretches that they should have produced such suffering! Intoxicated on the wine of power! But the Bible makes it clear that in the end, their own nation will be thrown into convulsions at the hands of the Messiah-Superman whom they themselves are preparing to welcome. In other words, they are building a machine, a Frankenstein monster that will grind them to powder during the coming period which Jesus describes as being "the great tribulation." It will be recalled that there was a state of financial inflation and mad speculation just prior to the depression in 1929. According to the Sixth Protocol, this wild business orgy of insane spending was deliberately planned by the Elders. We read, "To complete the ruin of the industry of the goyim we shall bring to the assistance of speculation the luxury which we have developed among the goyim, that greedy demand for luxury which is swallowing up everything. We shall raise the rate of wages which, however, will not bring any advantage to the workers, for at the same time we shall produce a rise in prices of the first necessaries of life, alleging that it arises from the decline of agriculture and cattle breeding: we shall further undermine artfully and deeply sources of production, by accustoming the workers to anarchy and to drunkenness and side by side therewith taking all measures to extirpate from the face of the earth all the educated forces of the goyim. In order that true meaning of things may not strike the goyim before the proper time, we shall mask it under an alleged ardent desire to serve the working classes and the great principles of political economy about which our economic theories are carrying on an energetic propaganda. We shall soon begin to establish huge monopolies, reservoirs of colossal riches, upon which even large fortunes of the goyim will depend to such an extent that they will go to the bottom, together with the credit of the States, on the day after the political smash." Turning now to the Twentieth Protocol, which deals entirely with the financial policy of the HIDDEN HAND, we will quote a few significant statements, "Economic crises have been produced by us for the goyim by no other means than the withdrawal of money from circulation. Huge capitals have stagnated, withdrawing money from States, which were constantly obliged to apply to those same stagnant capitals for loans. These loans burdened the finances of the State with the payments of interest and made them the bond slaves of these capitals. The concentration of industry in the hands of capitalists out of the hands of small masters has drained away all the juices of the peoples and with them also of the States. You are aware that the gold standard has been the ruin of the States which adopted it, for it has not been able to satisfy the demands for money, the more so that we have removed gold from circulation as far as possible. In our hands is the greatest power of our day, gold: in two days we can procure from our storehouses any quantity we may please. Surely there is no need to seek further proof that our rule is predestined by God?" Schools to Be Corrupted Realizing the importance of inoculating the minds of the children and young people with the poison of degeneration, we find woven into The Protocols an explanation of Jewish strategy in securing the destruction of the Gentile educational systems. We learn that back in 1905 they were discussing methods for turning all higher institutions of learning into hotbeds of radicalism and breeding places of atheism. A part of the program is to tear God out of the heart of the rising generation. Everybody knows that atheistic philosophies have been taken as the foundation of education throughout the civilized world. It is also well known that high schools, colleges, and universities are honey-combed with godless teachings, jungle evolution, immoral and Communistic ideas. The following utterance by one of the Elders is indeed illuminating, "Do you suppose for a moment that these statements are empty words: think carefully of the successes we arranged for Darwinism, Marxism, and Nietzscheism. To us Jews, at any rate, it should be plain to see what a disintegrating importance these directives have had upon the minds of the goyim. Who is going to verify what is taught in the village schools? We have got our hands into the administration of the law, into the conduct of elections, into the press, into the liberty of the person, but principally into education and training as being the corner-stones of a free existence. We have fooled, bemused and corrupted the youth of the goyim by rearing them in principles and theories which are known to us to be false although it is by us that they have been inculcated." Control of the Press An elaborate and almost fantastic system for dominating the newspapers of the world is presented in The Protocols. The only means for controlling the sources of information and in molding public sentiment on a worldwide scale was to organize and disseminate news through a few avenues. By consolidating and directing the outflow of press information through these channels, it would be possible eventually to gain complete control of the public mind by manipulating things at the top from where news would filter down to the masses. If these source springs could be polluted with propaganda, the entire mind of the world would be influenced. This elaborate system is being presided over by powerful Jews in the various nations it is claimed, for the purpose of gagging the press in the coils of a perfect dictatorship. A few quotations will suffice to illustrate the plan: "Through the press, we have gained the power to influence while remaining ourselves in the shade; thanks to the press we have got the gold in our hands, notwithstanding that we have had to gather it out of oceans of blood and tears. But it has paid us, though we have sacrificed many of our people. Each victim on our side is worth in the sight of God a thousand goyim. We shall deal with the press in the following way: What is the part played by the press today? It serves to excite and inflame those passions which are needed for our purpose or else it serves selfish ends of parties. It is often vapid, unjust, mendacious, and the majority of the public have not the slightest idea what ends the press really serves. We shall saddle and bridle it with a tight curb: we shall do the same also with all productions of the printing press, for where would be the sense of getting rid of the attacks of the press if we remain targets for pamphlets and books? The produce of publicity, which nowadays is a source of heavy expense owing to the necessity of censoring it, will be turned by us into a very lucrative source of income for our State: we shall lay on it a special stamp tax and require deposits of caution-money before permitting the establishment of any organ of the press or of printing offices: these will then have to guarantee our government against any kind of attack on the part of the press. For any attempt to attack us, if such still be possible, we shall inflict fines without mercy. Such measures as stamp tax, a deposit of caution-money and fines secured by these deposits. will bring in a huge income to the government. It is true that party organs might not spare money for the sake of publicity, but those we shall shut up at the second attack upon us. No one shall with impunity lay a finger on the aureole of our government infallibility. The pretext for stopping any publication will be the alleged plea that it is agitating the public mind without occasion or justification. I beg you to note that among those making attacks upon us will also be organs established by us, but they will attack exclusively points that we have pre-determined to alter. Not a single announcement will reach the public without our control. Even now this is already being attained by us inasmuch as all news items are received by a few agencies, in whose offices they are focused from all parts of the world. These agencies will then be already entirely ours and will give publicity only to what we dictate to them. Even nowadays already, to take only the French press, there are forms which reveal Masonic solidarity in acting on the watch-word; all organs of the press are bound together by professional secrecy; like the augurs of old not one of their numbers will give away the secret of his source of information unless it be resolved to make the announcement of them. Not one journalist will venture to betray this secret, for not one of them is ever admitted to practice literature unless his whole past has some disgraceful sore or other. These sores would be immediately revealed. So long as they remain the secret of a few the prestige of the journalist attracts the majority of the country, the mob follows after him with enthusiasm." The Birth of Communism The principle of Communism has existed for centuries. Its primary purpose has been to create internal strife and revolutions. If it is true that the Elders have existed as a self-propagating organization for hundreds of years for the purpose of influencing Jews toward precipitating acts of violence in all parts of the world, it may not be amiss to credit them with bringing about the fall of many nations through the centuries. Nilus claimed that in 1905 they were concentrating their guns upon Russia. It is significant to note that the leaders of the Russian revolution were Jews, including both Lenin and Trotsky. While Russia is the only nation so far that has come under the complete control of the revolutionary spirit, yet out from it has gone the same Red idea to the ends of the earth. Today, there is scarcely a spot in the world over which the Red shadow is not being cast. This is exactly the plan made known in The Protocols, whereby all nations are to be thrown into internal chaos, making it necessary eventually to turn to the powerful Jews, who control the gold of the world, for relief. It will be then, that they will offer our humanity a political and financial Messiah. The worldwide menace of Communism, exactly as we see it today, as outlined in these documents as an important part of the international conspiracy. A few random extracts will now be submitted showing the Elders were planning back in 1905 to make the entire world a breeding place of Communism: "The intensified struggle for superiority and shocks delivered to economic life will create, nay, have already created, disenchanted, cold and heartless communities. Such communities will foster a strong aversion towards the higher political and towards religion. Their only guide is gain that is gold, which they will erect into a veritable cult, for the sake of those material delights which it can give. Then will the hour strike when, not for the sake of attaining the good, not even to win wealth, but solely out of hatred towards the privileged, the lower classes of the goyim will follow our lead against our rivals for power, the intellectuals of the goyim. Throughout all Europe, and by means of relations with Europe, in other continents also, we must create ferments, discords, and hostility. Therein we gain a double advantage. In the first place, we keep in check all countries, for they well know that we have the power wherever we like to create disorders or to restore order. All these countries are accustomed to seeing in us indispensable force of coercion. In the second place, by our intrigues, we shall tangle up all the threads which we have stretched into the cabinets of all States by means of the political, by economic treaties, or loan obligations. But you yourselves perfectly well know that to produce the possibility of the expression of such wishes by all the nations it is indispensable to trouble in all countries the people's relations with their governments so as to utterly exhaust humanity with dissension, hatred, struggle, envy and even by the use of torture, by starvation, BY THE INOCULATION OF DISEASES, by want, so that the goyim see no other issue than to take refuge in our complete sovereignty in money and in all else. But if we give the nations of the world a breathing space, the moment we long for is hardly likely ever to arrive. But, in the meantime, while we are re-educating youth in new traditional religions and afterward in ours, we shall not overtly lay a finger on existing churches, but we shall fight against them by criticism calculated to produce schism. The word 'freedom' brings out the communities of men to fight against every kind of force, against every kind of authority, even against God and the laws of nature. For this reason, we, when we come into our kingdom, shall have to erase this word from the lexicon of life as implying a principle of brute force which turns mobs into bloodthirsty beasts. These beasts, it is true, fall asleep again every time when they have drunk their fill of blood and at such times can easily be riveted into their chains. But if they are not given blood they will not sleep and continue to struggle. This is the reason why it is indispensable for us to undermine all faith, to tear out of the minds of the goyim the very principle of Godhead and the spirit, and to put in its place arithmetical calculations and material needs. In our day the power which has replaced that of the rulers who were liberal is the power of gold. Time was when Faith ruled. The idea of freedom is impossible of realization because no one knows how to use it with moderation. It is enough to hand over a people to self-government for a certain length of time for that people to be turned into a disorganized mob. We appear on the scene as alleged saviours of the worker from this oppression when we propose to him to enter the ranks of our fighting forces, Socialists, Anarchists, Communists, to whom we always give support in accordance with an alleged brotherly rule (of the solidarity of all humanity) of our social masonry. The aristocracy, which enjoyed by law the labor of the workers, was interested in seeing that the workers were well fed, healthy and strong. We are interested in just the opposite, in the diminution, the killing out of the goyim." The Antichrist To the person who has not taken the trouble to inform himself regarding what the Prophecies say about the rise of a world Dictator, the idea at first glance may strike him as being a heavy draft on the imagination. However, a careful study of Bible Prophecy in the light of history and current events will show that everything is being made ready for the appearance of just such a colossal personage, whose characteristics are outlined down to the smallest details. Under the administration of this great industrial, philosophical, political, intellectual and financial Monarch the most unspeakable tortures will be visited upon the human race, in the end, time of this dispensation, prior to the second coming of Christ. Everything in The Protocols converges upon the coming of one Man and the specific objective of the Elders, according to these documents, is to set the stage for him. This Superman will be offered to the world by the powerful apostate Jews as their Messiah and for a brief period of about three and one-half years, according to the Prophet Daniel, he will administer world affairs in a most satisfactory manner. At the beginning of this period, he will officially declare Palestine to be the property of the Jews and will make his headquarters in Jerusalem. He will be the blackest, most ferocious, diabolical character the world has ever known, a counterfeit Christ, energized by demon power, a veritable Judas-Nero-Napoleon-Mussolini-Nietzsche, all rolled into one super-personality. It is my deliberate conviction that this man is in the flesh at the present time. In the not distant future, he will be unveiled as the world's most powerful potentate, a high-brow, a scholastic, a wizard in finance, a Superman. But, before his unveiling, there will be perpetual outbreaks of anarchy, war, political upheaval and economic abnormalities. The Protocols show how unrest is being created for this express purpose. He will emerge as the human saviour to bring cosmos out of chaos. For over twenty years I have been familiar with the facts relating to the coming of a world Dictator, and have proclaimed them constantly but only in recent years have I learned of a HIDDEN HAND consciously preparing the way for his coming. I am now ready to say that from all indications The Protocols describe perfectly the highway on which this great character will walk when he appears on the scenes with great glamour and drama. Many Scripture verses could be quoted from both the Old and New Testaments in confirmation of the above deductions. Back in the fifth century before Christ Zechariah predicted that the tribe of Judah would get the wealth of the world out of Gentile hands. The modern Jews are of course descendants of the tribe of Judah although the term Jew has come to stand, in modern times, for the entire Israelitish nation. Zechariah 14:13 speaks of the coming tribulation period which will consummate the present age of Gentile history as a time when everyone will raise his hand against his neighbor. Then the 14th verse says this will take place when Jews control the finances of the world: "And Judah also shall fight at Jerusalem; and the wealth of all the heathen (Gentiles) round about shall be gathered together, gold, and silver, and apparel, in great abundance." Practically, every page of The Protocols breathes the Antichrist atmosphere. Here and there we have culled utterances by the Elders which all students of eschatology will recognize as being in exact parallel of the plain teachings of the Scriptures regarding the coming of the Devil's Christ. A few typical quotations are as follows: "Without an absolute despotism, there can be no existence for civilization which is carried on not by the masses but by their guide, whosoever that person may be. The mob is a savage and displays its savagery at every opportunity. The moment the mob seizes freedom in its hands it quickly turns it into anarchy, which in itself is the highest degree of savagery. When the hour strikes for our Sovereign Lord of all the World to be crowned it is these same hands which will sweep away everything that might be a hindrance thereto. Ever since that time we have been leading the peoples from one disenchantment to another so that in the end they should turn also from us in favor of that King-Despot of the blood of Zion, whom we are preparing for the world. By all these means we shall so wear down the goyim that they will be compelled to offer us international power of a nature that by its position will enable us without any violence gradually to absorb all the state forces of the world and to form a Super-Government. In place of the rulers of today, we shall set up a bogey which will be called the Super-Government Administration. Its hands will reach out in all directions like nippers and its organization will be of such colossal dimensions that it cannot fail to subdue all the nations of the world. You gentlemen, here present, who are economists, just strike an estimate of the significance of this combination! In every possible way, we must develop the significance of our Super-Government by representing it as the Protector and Benefactor of all those who voluntarily submit to us. The recognition of our despot may also come before the destruction of the constitution; the moment for this recognition will come when the peoples, utterly wearied by the irregularities and incompetence, a matter which we shall arrange for, of their rulers, will clamor: 'away with them and give us one king over all the earth who will unite us and annihilate the causes of discords, frontiers, nationalities, religions, State debts, who will give us peace and quiet, which we cannot find under our rulers and representatives.' If already now there is not a single State where there exist for us any barriers to admittance into what goy stupidity calls State secrets: what will our position be then when we shall be acknowledged supreme lords of the world in the person of our king of all the world. The supreme lord who will replace all now existing rulers, dragging on their existence among societies demoralized by us, societies that have denied even the authority of God, from whose midst breaks out on all sides the fire of anarchy, must, first of all, proceed to quench this all-devouring flame." Down to the closing sentence of The Protocols, the coming Superman is described. The concluding statements of the Elders in the twenty-fourth Protocol are as follows, "The King of the Jews must not be at the mercy of his passions, and especially of sensuality: on no side of his character must he give brute instincts power over his mind. Sensuality worse than all else disorganizes the capacities of the mind and clearness of views, distracting the thoughts to the worst and most brutal side of human activity. The prop of humanity, in the person of the supreme lord of all the world of the holy seed of David, must sacrifice to his people all personal inclinations. Our supreme lord must be of an exemplary irreproachability." The above notation with reference to the demands of purity on the part of their coming false Messiah may appear high sounding in its phraseology at first glance but Daniel says the same thing in the eleventh Chapter of his book in the 37th verse, "Neither shall he regard the God of his fathers, nor the desire of women, nor regard any god, for he shall magnify himself above all." The End Apostate Jewry will actually dramatize their Superman to the position where supernatural claims will be made for him, and strange enough, he will live up to the claims. Standing at the head of a great, humanized religious system which he will have invented, he will demand and receive worship. Ten dictators will emerge out of the political and economic chaos of Central Europe in the near future and he will stand head and shoulders above the other nine. He will occupy the spotlight on the stage of the world for about seven years, after which his career will come to a tragic close. There will be no end to revolutionary achievements on his part, but the revival of the old Roman Empire and the official restoration of Palestine to the Jews will be two of his major accomplishments. Concerning the giving of the Holy Land to the Jews, Daniel says, "And he shall confirm the covenant" for seven years and "in the midst" of this period, or after three-and-one-half years, he will cause the daily sacrifice in the Jerusalem Temple which will have been reestablished, to cease and with supreme blasphemy he will assume the position of a modern deity. The Apostle Paul describes this stupendous event in these words, referring to the Antichrist, "Who opposeth and exalteth himself above all that is called God, or that is worshipped; so that he as God sitteth in the temple of God, shewing himself that he is God." Daniel calls this "the overspreading of abominations" and Jesus refers to it as "the abomination of desolation (standing) in the holy place." At the instant, this horrible event takes place the final "great tribulation" will break upon the world in all its fury. The Antichrist will manipulate superhuman powers during his reign and will be the world's greatest mastermind in all scientific, political and economic matters. He will possess a new knowledge and will achieve wonders which will make the whole world gasp. Daniel says, "But in his estate shall he honor the God of forces." He will produce poison gases, death rays, air machines, electrical devices and other destructive methods of warfare which will lash the whole world into subjection. During the early period of his catastrophic reign his mastery of the arts of arbitration and diplomacy; his genius in disposing of economic, industrial and political problems, will inspire the confidence of the deceived human family. His ability to bring temporary harmony to a world which has been upset by the secret conspiracy of the HIDDEN HAND will draw to himself the support of the torn nations. He will eventually become THE MAN OF THE AGE. Standing at the head of a World Bank, he will introduce a universal, standardized currency and will dominate the money markets of the world. Hence the words of John the Revelator, "And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: and no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name." This describes his absolute dictatorship of business and economics, the power of Mussolini multiplied many times over! About seven years after his ascension to power, when the most horrible war of history will be in progress under his domination, Jesus Christ will return to this planet exactly as He went away. The Antichrist will be utterly destroyed by the brightness of His appearing and the 110th Psalm will be literally fulfilled, where we read "The Lord said unto my Lord, sit thou at my right hand until I make thine enemies thy footstool." Jesus Christ has enemies, but in that day they shall become His footstool. The Jews will then "look upon me (Christ) whom they have pierced (at the time of His crucifixion)." The "delusion" will be lifted, the scales will be taken from their eyes, and under the personal leadership of their true Messiah, they will become ambassadors of good-will to minister throughout the whole earth. It will then be known everywhere that the Jews have been truly a Chosen People since the days when God first called father Abraham out of Babylon, although guilty of many mistakes during the intervening centuries. But even under the reign of the coming Superman, there will be a faithful "remnant," a spiritual nucleus of faithful ones within national Israel. As in Elijah's time when there were seven thousand who refused to bow the knee to Baal; as in Isaiah's time there was a "very small remnant"; as during the captivities there were loyal souls like Ezekiel, Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, Esther, and Mordecai; as at the end of the Babylonian captivity the nation had Ezra and Nehemiah; as at the time of Christ there were loyal ones like John the Baptist who "looked for redemption in Jerusalem;" so also in the impending "tribulation" there will be a faithful group who will know both the Old and New Testament prophecies and will not be deceived by the cunning devices of the Superman and the national apostasy of their nation. Notes

On December 23, 1932, the Editor of the Morning Post wrote me as follows: "It is perfectly correct that Mr. Victor E. Marsden was a correspondent of ours for a considerable time. He was imprisoned by the Bolsheviks and suffered such hardships that he returned to England a broken man, and died about twelve years ago." This information will help identify the translator as being a dependable gentleman.

The term "goyim" is used throughout The Protocols and has been retained by Mr. Marsden from the original translation meaning, "Gentiles or non-Jews, a term of offense and contempt and reveals the innermost spirit of Judaism."

Dr. Gerald B. Winrod; (1933)

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