#of course she also gets possessive of people/things & can uphold it much longer than most

[amusing-little-things]

my lady, it it true that you can pick poseidon up princess style

Yes, it is very true that I could, but I just prefer to hold him since it is rare that I leave the water and land/gravitational physics apply differently in the deep of Atlantis. It’d be more of a hold anyway than a carry. But if we were both on land, however… I have been known to assert my dominance over some things…

*knowing evil smirk*

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 18 - ao3 -

“I thought he liked you,” Cangse Sanren said, her hands warm on Lan Qiren’s back as he buried his face into his hands. He didn’t even scold her for it, ignoring all the strictures against too-close interactions between men and women in his misery. “I really did, or else I wouldn’t have encouraged him. I’m sorry.”

Words of apology like that came easily to her lips, unbound as she was by the usual complicated human emotions behind them. It was one of the many traits of hers that Lan Qiren envied.

Having finished her tenure at the Cloud Recesses, Cangse Sanren had been living at the Lotus Pier as a guest of the Jiang sect the past few months, and seemed to be quite happy there. Rumors had already gone around about how she’d been night-hunting with Jiang Fengmian and his retinue, much to the frustration of the third daughter of Meishan Yu, who’d had her heart set on him for ages.

Despite this, Cangse Sanren had still written cheerful letters to Lan Qiren, and he’d written back faithfully, although he’d tried not to bother her too much. He hadn’t actually asked her to return to the Cloud Recesses for his sake – after what had happened in the Nightless City, he’d written up some letters trying to explain that he would be very happy to have her company should it not be an imposition, his hand shaky and his calligraphy ugly in a way it hadn’t been since he was a small child, but he’d thrown them all away. He suspected someone had recovered a discarded draft and sent the message for him, probably Lan Yueheng or something like that, but he wasn’t sure; he hadn’t accepted any visitors since his frenzied flight from the Nightless City, locking himself away in his rooms and refusing to see anyone, even his brother.

Especially his brother.

“He does,” Lan Qiren said, his voice hoarse even though he hadn’t really been using it for much in the past few weeks, brooding over what had happened. “I think – he does.”

That was the worst of it, too. Lan Qiren could no longer deceive himself into thinking that Wen Ruohan saw him as a pawn to manipulate, a piece to play as part of a larger game. Their brotherhood might have started out that way, but at some point Wen Ruohan had actually taken an interest in him – a half-immortal like him, powerful beyond reckoning, thinking that Lan Qiren of all people was as precious as the pearls he’d draped him in.

He’d probably had those supposedly spare Wen sect robes made especially for him, too, just as an excuse to see him wearing them; Lan Qiren hadn’t put it together at the time, blinded as he was by the new and exciting feeling of closeness and affection, but in retrospect it had been obvious. Wen Ruohan himself admitted that he longed to possess things that he liked, that his instincts tended towards domination, and even based on their limited acquaintance, Lan Qiren knew that it would be just like Wen Ruohan to manufacture a situation just to see what Lan Qiren looked like wearing his colors.

No: Wen Ruohan sincerely liked Lan Qiren. He liked him a lot.

And he was, without a doubt, a terrible person.

Lan Qiren lived his life by the Lan sect rules. He might only be nineteen years old, two generations junior to Wen Ruohan, but he had at his disposal the wisdom of generations.

There were dozens of rules about what you were supposed to do, how you were supposed to conduct yourself – you were supposed to love the world and strive to fill it with good deeds, to uphold justice and shoulder morality, to be chivalrous and filial and virtuous, to live a life with integrity.

Do not associate with evil.

Wen Ruohan had told him, all that time ago, hadn’t he? It had been one of the first things he’d said to Lan Qiren, stay away from bad men. He’d meant himself then, and he’d been right, too.

It had been Lan Qiren who hadn’t listened.

“I liked him, too,” he said nonsensically, and put his head back down.

“I know,” she said. Cangse Sanren’s voice was not given to gentleness – he’d once scathingly compared it to a horn’s blast, loud and blaring, and she had laughed in delight – but for all her loudness she was also capable of great kindness. “I know, Qiren-gege, I know. You wouldn’t care so much if you didn’t.”

“…I don’t have many friends.”

“I know.”

“I don’t – I don’t need– he’s supposed to be my brother –”

“You have bad luck with brothers, I think,” she said, trying to be a little tactful and largely failing, and Lan Qiren felt himself awash with misery once more. She wasn’t wrong. Lan Qiren clearly had the ability to make friends – Cangse Sanren, for one, or Lan Yueheng and some others like him, even Lao Nie – but clearly he’d no luck when it came to anything more than that.

His blood brother despised him, and his sworn brother, who cared for him, was an evil man who by all rights he ought to avoid. What else could that be but the worst of luck?

“At least you found out early on,” Cangse Sanren said, moving straight back into the practical. She’d long ago admitted that she wasn’t very good with feelings of sadness, preferring to spend her life in joy no matter how difficult. “It would have been worse if it was later.”

“Would it?” Lan Qiren asked. He wasn’t so sure. “I’d have had more grounds to argue with him if I’d known him better.”

“Of course you’d think first of reforming him,” she sighed.

Lan Qiren shrugged. “Liberate, then suppress, and only as a last resort eliminate.”

“That’s for ghosts, Qiren-gege.”

“Most types of resentful energy, actually.” He tried to scrub at his eyes, which were tearing up again. “Most types of evil. And he – he is, isn’t he?”

“I mean, I’d have to do some digging before reaching a firm conclusion, I try not to judge these things second-hand, but based on what you described as seeing in the Fire Palace…probably.” She shook her head. “Even if they were wrongdoers, they ought to be punished according to their crime, or even executed. There’s no call for something on the order of what you described.”

“Maybe it’s different in the Wen sect,” Lan Qiren said, not really meaning it. “They might have different standards – there are punishments we enact that other sects might consider torturous, I suppose. The Jiang sect, for instance, punishes minor offenses only with kneeling, and disapproves of using the discipline rod… Anyway, it’s not - it’s not like it was hidden or anything, like it would be if they thought it shameful. The rumors all said that he was bloodthirsty and fond of torture; everyone knows, and for some reason I’m the only one who seems to mind.”

“Most people didn’t have to see Sect Leader Wen watching it like a particularly good dance routine at a brothel,” Cangse Sanren retorted, and Lan Qiren gagged at the thought. “Anyway, I still think it’s good that you figured out that he was trash before you got in too deep.”

“He’s not trash,” Lan Qiren objected, and she gave him an incredulous look. “He’s not! He’s not – he doesn’t have to stop. He’s a sect leader; he has complete dominion within his territory. His territory is the most expansive of all the Great Sects, he’s the most personally powerful of all the sect leaders…he can do as he likes, and I can’t do anything about it. If anything, I was in the wrong for profaning his hospitality by – by –”

“By putting those people out of their misery?”

“…that,” Lan Qiren said, and felt sick again.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You were entirely in the right! You should always stand up for morality, no matter the circumstance…” Cangse Sanren scowled. “Hold up, are you saying you’d considering making up with him?”

Lan Qiren sighed and scrubbed at his face.

“Qiren-gege!”

“He’s my sworn brother,” Lan Qiren said. “I swore an oath.”

Loyalty and fidelity - all those clauses about not being betrayed. He’d promised.

“That’s ridiculous,” Cangse Sanren argued. “So what if you swore an oath? So did he!”

“He swore to guide me, I swore to follow; it’s not the same.”

“He still has to be a good role model –”

“Maybe in his view he is.”

“Absurd. What utter trash!”

“It’s still an oath, Cangse Sanren!”

“Marriage is an oath, too, and they still invented divorce,” she said, scowling. Cangse Sanren had never met the word ‘no’ and liked it; it wasn’t in her character. “You can’t just let him go on like that, breaking your heart!”

“I wouldn’t call it –”

Cangse Sanren gave him a look, and Lan Qiren closed his mouth.

He supposed it was a bit like that.

“I thought it would work out, that’s all,” he said finally, somehow managing to talk around the lump of misery in his chest. “As something more than – what I have already.”

He’d spent years in denial and privately blaming himself, his awkwardness and his failures and his poor potential, for the poor state of his relationship with his brother, but then it turned out that who he was was enough to make someone like Sect Leader Wen, who had no pity and no sympathy and no natural fondness of other people, like him, so maybe in the end it wasn’t him.

Maybe it was only as Cangse Sanren had said: that he had poor luck in brothers.

“Just that?” she asked, and sounded curious. He looked at her in question, not understanding what she meant. “I mean, I don’t know. You were in the Nightless City for a whole week, unsupervised and clearly getting your feet swept out from under you by the charming and dashing Sect Leader Wen – did he really not try anything?”

“Try anything – Cangse Sanren! I already told you, it’s Lao Nie he likes like that.” He frowned. “At least, I think he does? No, I’m sure of it. Lao Nie calls him Hanhan, and Sect Leader Wen lets him; they must be – close. And Lao Nie’s proud of how undiscriminating he is.”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure Lao Nie lost half his interest in me when he realized I didn’t have a spare set of teeth somewhere awkward,” Cangse Sanren agreed, rolling her eyes. She’d spent a short time at the Unclean Realm, too. “Are you sure? I would’ve sworn…well, anyway, who cares about him? What about you? Did youlike Wen Ruohan like that?”

Lan Qiren grimaced. “I’ve never been good at that,” he demurred, and it was true.

At nineteen, by the standards of the Great Sects, he was generally considered a little too young to marry, and wouldn’t have been expected to – but plenty of young men his age and much younger were mooning over women left and right, and he’d never done that. He wanted a wife, of course, the way that he wanted to be an adult and to go traveling and to be a teacher, a sort of distant far-off future plan; he’d always been attracted by the idea of having a companion to share joys and sorrows with, but he’d never seen the appeal of soft curves or a pretty face the way all his peers seemed to instinctively understand. He hadn’t worried, thinking that desire was something that would come with time, although as he got older he started to worry that he’d perhaps missed the optimal period for it to happen. Even Cangse Sanren, who he liked a great deal – he didn’t think of her that way, not even when she’d admitted that she liked him.

“I know that,” she said, nudging him playfully. “I just thought you might be a cutsleeve, that’s all.”

“I don’t think so? I mean, I don’t know,” he said, and sighed. “I thought about it for a while, you know, after our last discussion on the subject. It’s not that it’s not accepted – I mean, it’s not popular, but it’s not forbidden, either, and there’s plenty of precedent for people in the Lan sect with those sorts of interests. But when I went to look at the spring books in the library –”

“You snuck a peek? Qiren-gege! How daring!”

“Be quiet. It’s a time-honored Lan sect tradition; if peeking weren’t encouraged, the books would be locked away in the forbidden section rather than just placed on an awkwardly high shelf.”

She giggled, and her endless good humor cheered him up a little.

“Anyway,” he said. “I looked it over, but it still just seemed like – I don’t know. Too much trouble.”

Cangse Sanren found that hilarious for some reason.

“Maybe it’s just the bedding you think is stupid?” she finally asked after getting the laughter out of her system and making a completely unnecessary hand gesture in case he didn’t understand that she meant sex instead of actual bedding. “It’s pretty stupid, I’m not going to lie.”

Lan Qiren gave her a sharp look. “You’re not married.”

“Don’t change the subject! Would you like a wife – or a husband, I suppose – if you didn’t have to sleep with them?”

“I wouldn’t ask that of someone,” Lan Qiren objected. “It’s a fundamental aspect of it, isn’t it? Anyway, I don’t – it’s not that – there’s nothing wrong with it in principle, I don’t mean to judge others – only – listen, it’s just troublesome, that’s all, and I don’t especially want to – Why are we even talking about this, anyway?”

Cangse Sanren laughed at him again.

“Regarding Sect Leader Wen, I have no grounds to object to his actions, so I won’t,” Lan Qiren decided, returning to their original subject, which although miserable was far less humiliating. “But I don’t have to pretend like I like it, either. Don’t associate with evil.”

“He’s your sworn brother,” Cangse Sanren reminded him, as if he’d somehow managed to forget. “If you’re not willing to be forsworn, how can you avoid him?”

“I’ll figure it out,” he said with a sigh. “It’s just a disappointment, that’s all. I’ll accept it, the way I’ve accepted all the others.”

She pressed her lips together, clearly unhappy. “One day that’s not going to be enough,” she finally said. “One day, you’ll run into a disappointment that’s so great that it’ll swallow you up.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. It was said that those who left Baoshan Sanren’s mountain were doomed, their longing to join humanity bringing down a sad fate onto their heads, though it was unclear if they would all go mad and evil the way her first disciple had all those years ago or if they would just die unhappily. What could he say against that?

“I’ll deal with that when it comes, I suppose,” he said, and felt uncomfortably like he had seen some trace of the heavens’ design that he shouldn’t have. “I don’t want to think about it anymore. Tell me about you.”

“About me?”

“How are you enjoying the Lotus Pier? And how do you – uh – that is –”

“Know enough to have an opinion about what people do in bed?” she said, her eyes curving into crescents as she grinned. “Well. Let me tell you all about that, since the two answers are the same. There’s this absolutely darling man in the Lotus Pier, very funny, by the name of Wei Changze –”

“Wei Changze? Not Jiang Fengmian?”

Cangse Sanren winked at him. “Rules against gossip, Qiren-gege!”

“It’s not gossip if it’s news!” he defended himself, though in all honesty it was probably mostly just gossip. “I wanted to know how you were doing!”

“And I’m glad of it! Let me tell you all about the ridiculous love triangle I’ve found myself in –”

It’s not gossip if it’s news, Lan Qiren reminded himself even as he settled in to listen. He put away all thoughts of Wen Ruohan for the moment, and thought that it was all for the best. There was nothing he could do about it, after all.

The facts were what they were: Wen Ruohan was his sworn brother; Wen Ruohan liked Lan Qiren, and Lan Qiren liked him in return; Wen Ruohan was an evil man who enjoyed causing pain.

Lan Qiren would just have to find a way to live with that.

[demomonic-murmurs]

loving your boo [hq characters × monster girlfriend] //p. 1

Welcome to a new series that I am starting. It features haikyuu characters dating various monsters and mostly features NSFW headcanons.

A fair warning; some of these might be a little weird. I will tag everything appropriately, so proceed with that in mind. Each part will feature 5 characters and 6 parts are planned so far.

Pairings: Hoshiumi × Reader, Ushijima × Reader, Iwaizumi × Reader, Osamu × Reader

Warnings: Size difference, Cervix Penetration, Egg Laying, Heat Cycles, Stomach Buldge

Hoshiumi and a Giantess

• Seagull boy is already insecure enough about his height

• he really doesn't like people commeting on his size or he is ready to throw hands

• or people taller than him

• but when he laid his eyes on you

• 250 cm of pure, giant beauty

• that got his feathers ruffled

• he doesn't get why you're insecure of your height to him its the best thing ever

• will ask you to carry him in private, not in public though he got a reputation to uphold

• learns to appreciate his height as well because of you

• because due to it, his face perfectly gets smothered by your big breasts and his hand has access to your cunt when you're just standing up normally

• speaking of cunt

• he knows his dick can't pleasure you lmfao

• he isn't the biggest guy, mostly just girthy but even that can't save him when it comes to your giant pussy

• he doesn't mind though, at least not later

• opens you up until his entire arm is inside of you

• thats a tight fit even for you

• his fingers barely reach your cervix

• which is great because he will totally use them to directly penetrate it

• your poor cervix is so abused lmao

• sucks on your clit like its a popsicle and his life depends on it

• also loves your boobs

• def wants to be quished between them

• loves it when you pick him up and hold him to suck his dick

• it feels so insignificantly small when he is with you so whenever you try to make him feel good he appreciates it

• you don't trust yourself with giving him a hand job, I mean how could you really, you could crush his dick so easily and then what

• so you mostly just settle down and let him use your body however he wants to to avoid any additional danger

• his ego is such an odd mix of immense pride and crippling self doubt

• he really wants to pleasure you but doesn't know if he can or is able to

• please reassure him

• overall fun relationship with a very different sex life

Ushijima and a Fairy

• Size difference in the different direction

• you are tiny and frail compared to Ushijima's tall and buff stature

• adorable pair though

• very popular and very one loves you

• you may have wings but Ushi loves it when you don't use them and ask him instead to help you get something from a shelf

• that being said, he also lives for when you flutter up to him to give him a kiss

• or when you allow him to hold you

• carefully of course because a broken wing would be a bother really

• but his hands are so big

• one hand is enough to fit onto your back and cover it mostly

• he enjoys that feeling of you being small like that

• which of course means that he loves the way you force yourself onto his cock

• it's far too big and thick for your far to tiny pussy

• when you stand next to him, you are at a face level with his crotch

• so even the tip is buldging you already

• not to mention that his cock is a monster

• long, thick and curved

• it can split you in half easily

• loves it most when he is laying down and you sink down onto his cock

• the way you hiss and cry as you take inch after inch is like a concert to him

• loves holding your hips and brushing his thumbs over your stomach taking him so nicely

• you can never fit him completly but it amazes him everytime just how much you can take

• maybe if he just starts stretching you out enough, there will be enough space in your tiny womb for him because he breaks through your cervix like its nothing

• speaking of womb

• loves to cum inside of you and he cums a lot, making you swell up with it quite nicely

• loves how your wings flutter and shudder when you climax, which happens quite often considering how long it takes to just sheat himself into you

• also loves to use you as a cock sleeve to cock warm while he does chores

• nice man that takes good care of you and will make you think of nothing but his cock

Iwaizumi and a Dragonshifter

• Godzilla

• that's the reason he fell for you

• I am sorry

• can totally see it as a childhood friends thing where he befriended you because of that

• and now that the two of you are older he realized just how hot you are

• horns, bat-like wings, claws and a thick scaly tail

• not to mention your teeth

• poor Iwa is done for

• absolutely loves it when you wear anything short or revealing because then he can see the scales framing the more humanoid part of your thighs

• loves it when you give him blowjobs and he is allowed to pull on your horns so you can take him deeper

• your mouth is hotter than the one of an average girl because of your dragon breath

• and your tongue is longer as well

• also loves seeing you pleasure yourself with your tail

• since your clawed hands don't exactly allow you to use them

• but the scales on your tail give you a nice friction to work with

• his favourite season of the year is mating season lol

• when you become so needy that you cut through his pants to suck on him, begging for his semen

• loves taking you from behind because he can see your tail and wings moving around

• rubs the base of both because they are very sensitive zones

• likes to hold up your tail and hug it while he fucks you into the sheets

• your nickname for him is the dragon tamer lmfao

• loves how protective you can get over him

• makes him feel very nice n cozy inside

• knows that you can take care of yourself and relishes in the way you beat up someone

• lowkey turned on by the fact that you can easily beat him at arm wrestling

• Iwa likes a strong woman

• especially if she is half lizard

Osamu and a Swan Girl

• thinks you're beautiful and graceful by default

• loves to run his hand over your feathers

• he still keeps the one you had lost during your first date in a scrapbook

• everything is so soft about you he lives for it

• loves to hold yours hands, which extend from your wings similarly to a bat

• calls you his little angel

• you two own Onigiri Miya together

• and you two have a special item on the list that is limited but a fan favourite

• swan egg ramen

• its a specialty really

• if its ordered (which happens often) Osamu will take a short break and fuck you in the break room so your body will begin to create an egg

• ofc he won't cum in you, he doesn't want to fertilize it

• preferably cums all over your feathers instead

• though he can't deny that he dreams about doing it inside of you one day

• the house made eggs are delicious and if he got time, he loves seeing you push it out

• his favourite sight really

• of course you have a limit of how many you can lay but thats fine, thats why its a special offer that is very popular among humans and monsters alike

• he also loves it when you get in the real mood and perform your little mating dance and sing for him

• lovingly ruffled your feathers so you know he returns your affection

• always makes sure to feed you well after you've laid an egg because its quite stressful for you and he knows that

• and just loves the thought about mating for life with you

Nishinoya and Bunny Girl

• you are a dream come true

• every single high school fantasy is embodied in you

• you're hot to him

• so incredibly hot

• he is horny on main lmao

• takes you in any way imaginable

• loves it if you suck him off and he gets to pull on your ears

• always gently licks and bites them because they're so sensitive

• moans directly into your your ear because he knows it will make you shudder

• not to mention that cute little tail of yours

• any part of fur you possess will be covered in his cum he will ensure that

• ruts himself between your thighs or boobs

• loves to see you collecting his cum with a finger eagerly licking it off

• will absolutely buy you a Karasuno uniform to really fulfill his dreams

• you're his cute fangirl and he is the handsome libero you have a crush on

• lives for the way your legs look under a skirt, specifically that one

• sometimes just flips it up and nuzzles his nose into your crotch

• when you're not wearing panties though

• you're basically asking for it

• has no problem with fucking you in private

• also loves it when you're in heat

• you two have sex very often but when you're in heat? You're not doing anything but fucking

• also would probably have some fun with triggering your flight instincts while fucking you if he feels mean

[stillness-in-green]

If it's any consolation, I'm sure that the Advisors and the rest of the MLA (Re-Destro, Trumpet, Geten) will show back up sooner than the final arc, just because we're going into Year 2 and the students would find great 1 on 1 or team opponents with the Advisors. Re-Destro and Geten are heavy hitters (and Geten could be tied to Dabi, Shoto and all that somehow) and they were locked up with Mr. Compress and Machia, but who do you want to see first from the Advisors?

Thanks, anon; I certainly do hope we'll get to see more of them.  Admittedly, my main concern is that I so liked what was going on with the Paranormal Liberation Front that even if we do see all of the MLA types again, if it's only in the context of speedbump battles for the students, that's still going to be a letdown.  Better than nothing, to be sure, but I really do want them to join back up with the League, even a League that's confused and out of sorts under All For One's hand.  I love RD's big spiritual-awakening-flavored crush on Shigaraki, the cross-organization tensions and relationships, just as much as I love the depth the MLA brings to the world outside of just what's going on with the heroes.

I'm fairly frustrated with how the MLA fared during and after the raid, largely because it's awfully hard not to conclude that, if what we have right now is all the erstwhile-MLA are ever going to come to, Shigaraki would have been significantly better off if he'd just killed them all and shacked up with Ujiko for four months.  And that would be such a waste!  The end of My Villain Academia was such an enormous triumph for Shigaraki! I want his victory to amount to something more than what we've seen, something that shows that both his strength and his mercy will pay off for him in the long-term, will be a concrete benefit to him rather than, with the benefit of hindsight, the reason everything went so wrong.

Particularly with Re-Destro, since Horikoshi saw fit to have Dark Shadow all but one-shot the man, and Edgeshot defeat him off-panel, it's really not going to mean much to me for him to have a big fight with students unconnected to anything else.  The drama's rather gone out of it at this point.  That's particularly the case since, if he's no longer connected to Shigaraki's plot, it's that much easier for him to just be off-paneled and forgotten about.  But, if Rikiya gets looped back in with the League, if his gratitude and admiration of Shigaraki mean he still has a role to play in Shigaraki's arc, that makes it much easier to get invested in any fights that role will lead him to. Ditto the MLA more broadly; it's categorically ridiculous to present that organization with the kinds of numbers, breadth of influence and legitimate grievances they have, only to try to sweep them back under the rug exactly like Shigaraki accuses heroes of doing with everyone they can't save. 

To say the least, I'm pretty invested.  But I appreciate your consolations and am trying to hold out hope that we'll get some good stuff with them yet!

My anxieties aside, and to hit the other portion of your ask--who would I like to see first among the Advisors?--hit the jump:

(All nicknames and shorthand are taken from this post.) 

Well, it'd be nice if they could all get at least as much to do as the Eight Bullets back during the Hassaikai arc, seeing as they got a similar splash page spread introducing all their faces.  There are considerably more than eight of them, of course, but even if they never get more attention than e.g. Galvanize or the hose-faced guy who iced Midnight did, at least then we'd have some idea of their power sets and at least one angle on their personality.

Assuming we aren’t going to get full breakdowns on every single one of them, there are still four things I'd really like to see happen with the MLA/the Advisors: the student fights we're expecting, the jailbreaks we're being told about, the reunion with the League I'm praying for, and for literally anyone in the in-world media to try and get their side of the story.

Student Fights: Seeing the guy who killed Midnight again is as sure a bet as any of these get.  Momo is an important enough character, with enough sustained arc, that she will have to get something else to do before the series is over.  Taking command of a group battle against real opponents--ones with more responsiveness and agency than Gigantomachia--would be in-line with what she's been moving towards so far.  I would, however, love it if that fight would be more challenging than a straightforward battle of tactics.

I headcanon Hose Face and Scarecrow as, respectively, an ex-con and a dude with physical disabilities--both people who have ample reason to want to change the series' status quo irt human rights abuses in prison and overly restrictive quirk use laws.  I'm not expecting the canon to validate me on what amount to wild guesses, of course, but I want those Advisors in particular to have motivations more nuanced than, "They're quirk supremacists; who cares why they're willing to put their lives on the line over this?"

A feel-good revenge match in which a bunch of teenagers lay the smack down on characters whose humanity the audience is asked neither to know nor care about would be lazy, and counterproductive to the series' current thematic concerns. Give Momo her victory, by all means, but don't give it to her easy.  A confrontation like this would be a good way for the less central Class A students to begin wrestling with the question of who, exactly, heroes "save" and what it is that people need to be saved from, exactly the way Deku and Uraraka and Shouto are now wrestling with these questions.

As far as other fights go, I'd also love to see Brand and The Question pop up again. They're probably the two I'm most curious about purely in terms of what their quirks are.  Why does The Question wear a mask, and what's he like that he wound up in Mr. Compress's chain of command?  And with Brand, what kind of quirk does he have that's powerful enough to land him a ranked position in the Guerilla Warfare Regiment but indirect enough that he fights with a sword?

Prison Breaks: I wouldn't expect this to be particularly involved, probably more of an aside than anything, but I want the Bindi Ladies to spring Hole Punch Face, thus getting us an angle on what's going on with that particular trio.  Aviator Teeth can come too because I want at least some hints about what his deal is.

I'd also love to watch Horikoshi even attempt to retroactively justify some of the logistics of the single-day capture and subsequent detention of 17,000 super-powered, combat-trained people.*  I mean, I don't think there are any feasible explanations for that, but I'd be curious to see what he'd come up with, especially if every possible answer just makes Hero Society look worse! We have only ever seen Tartarus as an example of the prison conditions in this country; I'd love to hear more, and an MLA-focused jailbreak would be a great way to show it.

PLF Reunion: Of course, my number one thing to see with a reunion is Re-Destro being just as dismayed as Spinner is over Tomura's possession.  I crave more serious attention being paid to Rikiya's profound awe over Shigaraki's freedom, and would love to see his reaction to Shigaraki apparently losing that freedom.

Aside from the obvious, though, if the PLF does start piecing itself back together, I expect to see Sanctum again, given the attention he's gotten so far, and the fact that he's now the highest-ranked member of the Tactics Regiment.  It'd be great to get some explanation for how he can possibly be "the longest-serving member of the Liberation Army," given that the Army was generations old already when Re-Destro was just a child.  (If we do get that information, I imagine my own explanation will be jossed hugely, so I would also be happy to take time with Sanctum that doesn't explain the discrepancy but also doesn't invalidate my headcanon.)  

In the context of the regiments reforming, I'd also like to see Nimble and Aster, both because this manga needs more women, and because I'd like to see more of how Spinner and Toga interact with the people they were nominally commanding.

Media Attention: Trumpet's my number one hope here--the lack of any look into the state of the government in HeroAca Japan has been a total let-down since his introduction**, but I was particularly annoyed that the last time we saw him he was smiling (albeit in a fairly haggard way), giving me hope that we might next see him doing his part to portray all of this in a light that would sway public opinion.  And then literally one chapter later, we get prison guards talking about how the Hearts & Minds Party, a perfectly legitimized political party with representation on the national level, has been perfunctorily dissolved less than twelve hours from when the raid started.  How is there even an argument that the system heroes were upholding desperately needs to change?

I'm very tired of the media in BNHA only ever showing up to beg for/demand that heroes tell them what’s going on, particularly those damn press conferences. Journalists do investigative work! Newspapers employ reporters to actively seek out news!  Reporters in free countries don't just sit around waiting for the government or heads of major industries to graciously hand them press releases!  For heaven's sake, Trumpet was the head of a major political party.  People should be foaming at the mouth trying to get a statement from him!  

Especially with public trust in heroes breaking down, there should absolutely be intrepid reporters out there looking to get to the bottom of any of the layered conspiracies the public's just been hit with and told to just write-off as a bump in the road on the return to normalcy.

Anyway, Trumpet's the obvious choice, but if I could be sure the manga would validate my headcanons about Nimble and Scarecrow's disabilities, I'd be happy to put them in this position, too.  Trucker Toad would be another good candidate, if there's any basis to my idea that he is or used to be a transport driver who's seen a lot of the country outside the areas e.g. the Top Ten Heroes are patrolling.  He's obviously a good candidate for getting back to that idea of anti-heteromorph bias, too.  But really, I'd take anyone who can give a cogent explanation of the MLA's position on self-determination and the various ways Hero Society has exacerbated quirk-based discrimination.

Anyway, that's about where my thoughts are on where I hope the MLA people are and what we might see of them.  Thanks for the ask!

--------------

*Or as many as 100,000 more than that, depending on how through the statement, "Their bases around the country were also attacked, and their supporters rounded up," was meant to be.  An influx of 116K people, incidentally, would triple Japan's current carceral population.

**Why! Why would you introduce a politician and then never even glance at your setting's political situation??

[dabistits]

To talk about Twice and villainy is to talk about class and criminality (III)

Masterpost

Class in BNHA

Returning to my earlier point that BNHA should be read alongside the social concerns of real-world Japan, I want to note that these events almost surely affected and remained within Horikoshi’s awareness. Horikoshi was born in 1986, and thus lived through the economic downturns of the 90′s and 2000′s as a child and young adult. In 2010 when Sugimoto’s article was published—not in the least the first of its kind—Horikoshi was 24 years-old, more than old enough to remember the public discourses about Japan’s kakusa shakai. In 2008, only two years earlier, an award-winning film dealing with the financial struggles of a Tokyo family, Tokyo Sonata, was released, and 2012 saw an infamous starvation case involving a family that made international headlines. In 2014, BNHA began serialization. Without speculating on the political leanings of the author himself, it seems remiss not to posit the likelihood that these events and the atmosphere they engendered can be connected to Horikoshi’s writing and the kind of story he intends to tell. While BNHA isn’t what I’d necessarily call class-conscious, the ways it delves into class is noticeable even outside of Jin’s backstory and are worth a discussion.

If not exactly class-conscious, there nevertheless seems to be an awareness of class in BNHA. Not even our heroes are able to fully escape it, and in 1-A, there are small distinctions drawn between the experiences of more wealthy students and ones that are less well-off. For example, Yaoyorozu Momo wows classmates with her stately house, brings expensive furniture into the dorms, and exhibits naïve joy at shopping at an outlet store; Todoroki Shouto’s family home was shown to be a large, traditional residence, and a secondary house has since been built on the income of his formerly abusive, currently estranged father. Both students come from established hero families, and both were admitted to U.A. based on recommendation. On the other hand, Uraraka Ochako comes from a working-class family, and explains that a big part of her decision to become a hero is to support her parents’ business. She’s also been shown to be amazed at U.A.’s dorm facilities, and has frequent jokes made about her thriftiness in bonus material. When it comes to villains, these issues manifest with much more distinctiveness. Aside from Jin, a couple members of the Shie Hassaikai also bring up issues of class and exploitation when they explain their decision to join Overhaul: one was indebted, and the other had his Quirk exploited by an unethical boss. When Overhaul found them, they were “rotting away on the streets.”

On another level, BNHA is certainly hierarchy-conscious. As I’ve brought up before, many of the antagonist groups we see are strictly hierarchal, and more importantly, the lower-ranking members are often commanded to live and die according to their leader’s desires. From the members of the Shie Hassaikai to the Meta Liberation Army, we continuously see them lending their bodies and Quirks to the causes of their superiors, only to be discarded at the most opportune moments: Overhaul directly uses one of his followers as a meat shield, and the Meta Liberation Army decides to put their members in the path of danger, just to steal some glory from the LOV. Geten, from the MLA, has no qualms about enacting such wide-scale destruction that the members of his own organization get caught in the crossfire.

It seems relevant to mention that Yotsubashi Rikiya “Redestro,” the wealthy CEO of Detnerat and successor to the revolutionary Destro, makes his official appearance in the series through an advertisement, a medium tied to the capitalist drive for production and consumerism. Advertisements can also be understood as a medium for misrepresentation, an idealized image created to maximize sales, and sure enough, Redestro’s friendly façade gives way when he kills his assistant, Miyashita, for a mildly disparaging comment about Destro’s ideals. Before the murder, Redestro asks Miyashita whether he has a family or a significant other, making sure that his absence will not be missed, but the pointed question also seems to work as a stand-in for the invisibility of those who “serve” the rich, who can be discarded without hardly a blink of an eye. Miyashita, despite his proximity to wealth and to the wealthy, despite being on all counts a hardworking, model employee, remains expendable in the eyes of his boss. Furthermore, this act of violence occurs not in the supposedly crime-ridden streets—it happens in a swanky office building, where both killer and victim are supposedly working in civilian capacities. It suggests that hierarchies are not something that only belong in the villain world, but that these cycles of exploitation and expendability proliferate throughout society down to our offices and homes.

Quirks as determiners of worth.

In fact, home is where we bear witness to one of the greatest feats of exploitation: in the marriage between Rei and her abuser. Of course, the greatest foundation in this dynamic is patriarchy, wherein the woman is treated like the property of her husband, but there’s a subtle twist in this arrangement thanks to the introduction of Quirks. Rei’s marriage was not simply considered an “arranged marriage,” but specifically a “Quirk marriage” meant to strengthen the Quirks of the following generation by choosing a suitable partner. The Quirk marriage between Rei and her abuser was facilitated by his wealth and fame—acquired through his work in the line of pro heroes—therefore placing a price tag on her Quirk and on her person. I consider this to be an indication of the commodification of Quirks—“commodity” meaning roughly, in the Marxist sense, something that can be “bought or sold” or “exchanged in the market.”

Of course, the horrific thing about purchasing Quirks is they are attached to humans. Quirks are genetic mutations, and are stated in-text to specifically be biological attributes; without a human with the appropriate genetic mutation, a specific Quirk doesn’t exist. If the past serves as any lesson, it’s likely that as Quirks (and the humans who wield them) began to be seen as increasingly valuable, the ruling class soon caught on to the fact that Quirks needed to be controlled, regulated, and diverted to serve the interests of capital. Thus, Quirk regulations were born to prevent a potentially cataclysmic disruption to the means of production, as were pro heroes—a superpowered arm of law enforcement to deal with superpowered criminals. Contemporarily, heroes are largely those whose Quirks are considered the most valuable, and they’re paid for wielding said Quirks in defense of the rule of law; in other words, they sell their Quirk-wielding expertise. While Quirks themselves can’t yet be bought and sold (at least not on a wide scale), the humans attached to them can be. 

This leads to yet another societal dysfunction. Because some Quirks are considered more valuable than others, and because Quirks are attached to persons, some people are considered more valuable than others. This comes through even more clearly in the original Japanese word for Quirk: 個性 (kosei). Kosei can be translated as “individuality” but also as “personality” or “character,” e.g. she has a strong personality (kosei), [source] a meaning that inevitably implicates the human behind the personality. But in the world of BNHA, a strong kosei no longer simply means a strong personality—it can also mean a strong Quirk. In the linguistic realm, personality and Quirk have become indistinguishable, and this has two effects: one, Quirks are presumed to influence personality (as in the cases of Toga and Shinsou), and two, that which makes us individual, our personalities, has become entangled with Quirks-as-commodity. That is to say, one’s kosei determines one’s worth under capitalism.

Of course, people with “good” or “valuable” Quirks (and thus presumably “good” and “valuable” personalities) are funneled into law enforcement and encouraged to uphold the status quo—the very status quo which increases their chances of gaining wealth, fame, and prestige that they can then pass down to subsequent generations. However, the policing class must justify its existence—if there is no crime, then there’s no need for policing. In one respect, this “need” is manufactured by criminalizing poverty (as discussed above), and other harmless acts (such as drug possession), and by creating the adverse, alienated conditions in which violence is not considered only necessary, but normal for both the policing class and those who are policed. Under the classification of value, however, there’s another easy scapegoat: people with “bad” or “worthless” Quirks.

While no Quirk is explicitly criminalized, there are many Quirks that carry a stigma, including the likes of Transform and Brainwash (whose wielders are regarded with suspicion for fear of “bad” personalities); some Quirks walk the line between “criminalized” and “stigmatized” altogether. Consider the Quirk wielded by the indebted member of the Shie Hassaikai, which allows him to transfer any object on another’s person into his hands: the Quirk is called “Larceny.” The naming is telling; it draws a direct link between indebtedness/need, and theft as a crime and as a kosei. With some people presumed “destined” for crime, and those presumptions becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy as they’re shut off from opportunities for advancement, law enforcement is endowed with legitimacy. Heroes and villains become two sides of the same coin—one unable to exist without the other, both socially-constructed categories to perpetuate the ruling class.

[muthaz-rapapa]

Rewatch: Mahou Tsukai Precure Ep 3

Hey hey hey~!

I made it to Sunday with another MahoPre post again! Praise me, won’t you?

*bows extravagantly* ( -∀-)シ

ALSO, HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO ALL YOU GREAT MOMMIES OUT THERE!! WHERE WOULD WE BE WITHOUT YOU?!  (｡^▽^｡)/ ♡

Yaaaaa, you know the animation quality really went up when not only the new transformation sequence was top notch but the episode it debuted in was as well. Really! Everything was so sparkly and purdy~

Like Mirai and Mofu-chan’s excited faces, kyaaaaa~! xD

Ahem, so we start off with Mirai calling home and let’s just say she’s very lucky it was Grandma who picked up.

I don’t know how long Mirai’s been gone but judging by how Grandma’s first question is about Mirai’s search instead of asking where she is right now, maybe she hasn’t been gone too long to raise any alarms yet.

In any case, the beginning of the phone call was hilarious cuz though Grandma shares Mirai’s belief in witches and magic, I’m pretty sure she never expected for Mirai to be contacting her from another realm, much less hear that she’s become a witch herself.

She’s like “Huh? Wut?” xD;

And then there’s Mirai. Oh god, Mirai.

She really is the type to spill almost every detail out in a jumbled manner and gesture frantically on the other end of the line even though there’s no way her Grandma can actually see her, lol I do the same thing when I talk over the phone

Meanwhile, Headmaster and Riko are just standing awkwardly in the background, watching this girl play charades in front of a crystal ball.

(^ ∀ ^ ;;)

Anyways, despite all the rushed explanations, Mirai wants to attend class here and asks for permission.

Naturally, any normal parent/guardian would say “no” because first of all, what the heck is she going on about? Flying brooms? Magic World? WAT? Did you hit your head while playing or something?

I mean, even the most understanding person would just assume Mirai found a new friend at the playground who introduced her to some secret hangout or whatever and that Mirai just wants to stay out longer to have fun, that’s all.

But nuh-uh! Mirai’s really in the Magic World right now and she really wants to enroll in magic school for the rest of spring break!

Miraculously (and again, she is so lucky it was Grandma who picked up), she does get the okay.

Grandma actually believes Mirai will be alright with these strangers in some foreign place she’s never heard of. She’s never met them, there’s no address or even a phone number she can call to check up on Mirai. For all she knows, her granddaughter could’ve been tricked and kidnapped by some shady hoodlums.

But over the phone, it doesn’t seem that Mirai is any danger...and since she sounds so eager, well then, alright. Grandma chooses to trust Mirai.

Cue joyous, major squee-able hug! <D

But on a serious note, PLEASE DO NOT ALLOW THIS IN REAL LIFE, OKAY?!

(O_ O ;;)

It’s somewhat forgivable in an children’s anime where things are more idyllic and even Mirai’s situation is an exception among exceptions because of plox. 

But if your kid is asking to stay out in some vague location with people who don’t have your trust to look out for their well-being, then you get in your car or call the police or do whatever’s necessary to bring them home immediately!

...come to think of it, I wonder how Mirai’s parents reacted when Grandma told them the news. By the time Mirai got back home, they seemed pretty cool with it but Mirai should’ve at least called them every day (off-screen) to ensure she’s alright so that they didn’t have to worry a lot while she was away.

I dunno, please don’t mind me too much on this matter. I'm just very sensitive when it comes to the safety of children, that’s all. The news and living in the city scared me into being cautious.

Honestly, I wouldn’t mind becoming an Uber driver as long it’s a magic carpet I’m flying.

But I’m not sure what the insurance policy on that is like and it doesn’t look like there are seat belts either which is a tad bit concerning. Hmm...

Bouncy-wouncy flippy-floppy Mofurun~!

Look at this happy bear~! She’s having the time of her life!

Ugh, my heart~!!! x3333

I believe this is the first time Mirai’s had the chance to tell Riko something about herself and it’s quite nice that Riko was the one who (sorta) initiated the interest this time around.

We all know what Riko’s like. She’s not fond of people being too chummy with her because if they get to know her, they’ll learn how bad she is at magic as well. That’s why she’s always trying to maintain a distance. Trying not to interact with others too much and not volunteer too much info about herself so she can uphold an image she doesn’t really possess and protect where she’s most vulnerable. Tsundere defense mechanism in the works.

For her to reach out to Mirai, even if it’s only out of some courteous small talk and minimal curiosity, maybe it means she’s gradually becoming more comfortable. At least in Mirai’s company, there’s no need to have her guard up that high and she can talk to someone normally for once.

Mirai, on the other hand, is the honest type through and through and is thrilled to share anything about what she loves.

Her bright, sincere personality and close relationship with her grandma shows how well she was raised because no matter how wild or out of this world Mirai’s thoughts can get sometimes, those closest to her never ridiculed or made her think less of herself for that. That’s why she’s almost always able to face anything with open optimism. She’s free to be unapologetically herself because she has that kind of reassurance.

It’s a security that many people would die to have.

And Riko is one of those people.

Listening to Mirai talk warmly about her grandmother brings a slightly lonely expression to her face because Riko doesn’t have anyone like that. No one whom she can talk to about anything and everything, no one whom she can show her true self to without fear of being judged by them.

No one to call a real friend.

Well, guess what, Riko? Ya got right one in front of ya, dont’cha? Hahaha~!

She just doesn’t realize it yet.

Moving along, damn, the whole island is occupied by magic merchants and their shops!

Diagon Alley can’t even begin to compare!

Yep. If there’s any Precure universe I want to live in, it’s definitely this one! 8D

At the center of the giant square, of course there’s a statue and of course there’s a story to go along with it and of course, there’s an old man (by the name of Mr. Hook) just waiting to tell that story to whoever’s new in town.

Nevertheless, this story is a rather interesting one in respect to the Linkle Stone Ruby that’s set to appear later.

The Merchant Alley is where people gather to sell their trades and goods. It’s a place where they can share the work they’re proud of and passionate about.

And Ruby is the Linkle Stone of what? Passion.

So the Passion Flame was pretty much the Linkle Stone Ruby all along and it returned to remind the people of the magic they still have within themselves.

This slightly debunks the idea that the Linkle Stones will only appear when Precure do but it doesn’t change the fact that Ruby’s true form didn’t manifest until Mirai and Riko came to the Alley.

Anyways, on another note, isn’t it an extremely heartwarming thought that even though Mother Rapapa has been gone for centuries, her magic hasn’t disappeared and that it still extends itself to help people when they’re in need? Even now, Mother Rapapa still loves and wants to protect the world she defended with her very life which just goes to prove that the most ancient and most powerful magic of all is indeed, love.

Love never dying means magic never dying.

Aaaaahhhh~, that’s so beautiful! *sniff* <’D

Aww, but I wanted to hear about Pegasus Lane!

( •́ ∧ •̀ )

Ok, ok, maybe some other time.

At least we got Riko taking Mirai’s hand to lead her away instead. Me is a happy gurl~ <3

But then Mofurun says she smells something sweet and duh, it’s clearly Ruby sitting in the statue’s lamp but they don’t know that yet so they all assume it’s just the cotton candy from a street vendor near by.

Well, their reaction was adorbs anyway.

D’aww, omgawd, look at Mirai, trying to tug Riko in the direction of sweets and Riko having none of that. Kekekeke! xD

Ok, before we go in, I just want to say that I adore Francois and all the fabulousness he’s packaged with!

But more than that, I love how he’s always so kind to people who visit his shop, especially the girls. He’s always eager to give them the best fashion he can offer and since he learned his trade in the Mundane World, it’s probably safe to say he isn’t at all prejudiced against anyone from there either.

But also, also...!!

He knows how to recognize CUTE when he sees it!

Oh yea, Francois is my spirit animal.

Poor Mofurun, though. She looks so traumatized. xD;

My daughter is soooooo cute! Don’t you agree?

*pokes you in the back with ten needles* (*°∀°)

Man, if I could do magic......I would probably still go out to buy clothes instead of making them myself. It’s less about not having the talent to design and more about gathering the material that would be a pain for me. I’d rather leave that to the professionals.

That said, since it’s magic we’re talking about, I hope retail prices are a lot lower over there since production requires less manual labor. Or should it be magical labor?

Well, it takes less time if an outfit can be fitted and finished within the hour so that’s a plus at least.

Mmhmm. *nods appreciatively*

I wasn’t lying when I said this uniform is one of my (if not the) top favorite school uniform designs across all Precure seasons.

The colors, the plaid bows, and ugh, the HAT!!

...I wanna be a witch, too. TwT

Honestly, Francois is just one of the best recurring characters. Period.

He’s so thoughtful, going the extra mile even when he doesn’t really have to. He’s not in it for the famous name or money, he just wants to make sure his clients look good and feel good looking good.

What an artisan!

(Btw, Mofurun still uses the same pouch when Mirai grows up and I just find that so awesome because they’re continuing to treat a gift from Francois with such care~ <3)

I mean, fixing a loose button is a small task. Hardly worth mentioning but with Riko falling so often (*discontent Riko noises*), you’d think Francois would be exasperated about her always ruining her clothes.

Nope. 

He just goes and sews it back in place without charge, gently telling Riko in his own special way for her to be more careful.

Riko doesn’t miss the sentiment behind his words and really, you’d have to be blind to not see how all the people Riko knows really care about her.

More locals to meet and this one is Todd and he sells produce!

Not much to say about him other than he’s a nice dude, offering Mirai a sample of what a Frozen Clementine really tastes like.

lol, oh Riko, don’t take it so personally. These things happen. <D;

Also, that’s two strikes for Riko today. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town was aware of how clumsy she is.

At least, none of them are mean about it or deliberately poking fun at her. Riko’s just a little too sensitive is all.

Again, the shifts through Riko’s many faces when eating clementines are fun to watch.

It’s okay, Riko! You’ll get there eventually!

Wouldn’t put it past an eccentric, old man like him to do something like that.

I mean, I’m positive that the Headmaster’s character is partially inspired by Albus Dumbledore who also fits these kind of descriptions so yea...

YEA.

Meanwhile, I am living for the savageness that Cathy is unrepentantly laying on the Deputy Headmistress concerning her stickler-policy/no-outsider opinions.

Nothing against the Deputy Head since she does come around eventually but hell yea, Miss Sassy Crystal Ball! xD;

Next up is Gustav’s, where Mirai gets her own broom!

God, I love this broom so much. It’s simple but so charming!! Perfect for a young witch!

Nooooooo, Riko-chan~

That’s not what she meant! (^ ∀ ^ ;;)

Ooo, that’s three strikes now!

Riko really can’t catch a break, huh?

I wonder how many times everybody in town has heard this reply, lol

Y’know, these shopkeepers have known Riko since she was little so for them to comment on Mirai accompanying her today just further supports the idea that they’re always watching out for her however they can.

Riko’s an awkward kid who’s trying too hard to act and see through the eyes of an adult and that’s why she blunders so much.

But perhaps, if they were to point that out too directly, it’ll just make Riko feel more ashamed or make her more stubborn than she already is.

If that’s true, then I’d like to think they all agreed to just give Riko her space and let her grow into it in her own time. They’ll still support her every now and then (because she needs it) but they won’t overdo it to the point where she’ll notice and misunderstand it as an remark on her poor skills in magic.

Anyways, at least Gustav seems happy to see Riko’s finally got a friend to spend time with. As much as Riko’s unsure about calling Mirai her friend, no one’s going to deny that Riko not being alone anymore is a good thing for her, hehe~

They got to eat cotton candy, after all! YAY~!

Gotta say, this might just be the best way to eat cotton candy cuz it just levitates a little above your hand and you don’t have to worry about holding onto a stick and then the candy melting onto the stick and your hands getting messy cuz of that and whatnot.

Also, it really makes it look like you’re munchin’ on a cloud. Cute, right? :D

So far, Mirai is having a superb day. She got the whole magic user starter kit and it really feels like she’s become a witch now.

But as Riko says, it takes more than just looking the part to be a genuine practitioner of magic.

I wonder if she realizes how contradictory she sounds here because if she knew that all along, then that would label her search for the Emerald as hypocritical.

Though it’s possible she only realized this after coming back from her recent trip to the Mundane World empty-handed.

Still, there’s no doubt the Emerald’s profound and mythical qualities would be desired by many, including those who are efficient in magic. Nobody is really sure what it’s capable of but since it’s reputed to be the rarest and most powerful of the Linkle Stones, we can at least expect it to live up to its name in some way.

And when Riko overheard the Headmaster talking about it in his office, well, who can really blame her for shooting off to go find it then?

If anything, had she found it, Riko probably would’ve used the Emerald to figure out why her magic seldom worked out the way she wanted it to. Then from there, she’d do whatever she could in her own power to make herself a great witch.

...Maybe.

Mirai, however, is more impressed by how brave and aggressive Riko is on fulfilling her dream. 

In fact, she’s more amazed by Riko than the Emerald itself and doesn’t think her search for the Emerald sounds ridiculous at all.

To her, Riko is a hard worker and she should be acknowledged just for how much effort she puts into becoming a witch worthy of respect.

But when she asks what Riko means by stuff like “excellent” or “splendid”, even Riko’s not sure.

Of course, even if you have a good amount of magical prowess, that doesn’t automatically mean you’re a great magic user.

Rather, it should be how you use your magic that determines whether you are great or not.

I guess that’s why Riko suddenly turned that question back on Mirai. Because as of this moment, she’s only looking for ways to cast her spells without them backfiring on her. She hasn’t given much thought on what she can do with magic once she does have it in her hands.

Riko doesn’t have an answer yet. And because she doesn’t want to appear like she doesn’t, her walls go up again in an attempt to prevent anyone else from realizing how unsure she actually is inside.

But you know what?

Mirai’s not sure about her own dream either. 

She’s never thought of it before now and nothing really comes to mind just because she’s asked out of the blue like this. However, that doesn’t really bother her.

It’d be awesome if one day, she can find something to dedicate herself to like Riko does...but until then, there’s no need to rush or stress it. If she’s meant to find it, then she’ll find it eventually.

Having a dream should be a wonderful thing, after all. It’s not something you must have but something you want, something you choose to pursue. 

I believe that’s what makes Riko so special in Mirai’s eyes. Because despite all the doubts and hardships that come with it, Mirai can tell Riko truly cherishes her desire to become a fine witch some day. 

If she didn’t, Riko wouldn’t have needed to try so hard. But she did and is still trying because she really wants it. That is what earned her Mirai’s admiration.

Not sure if those feelings reached Riko but at least it seems that she knows Mirai respects and understands her to extent in that regard, which then draws out a smile from her as well.

Cuz c’mon, it’s just nice to talk these things out with a friend.

That’s right, they’re definitely friends now.

They’re laughing together and the atmosphere is very light and pleasant and happy.

Just look at Mofurun, the perfect mood indicator. If that’s not enough to show how well our girls are getting along, then I don’t know what is.

Ugh, unfortunately if there’s a good mood going on, a mood ruiner is never too far off.

This time it’s Sparda and she introduces herself by stealing Mirai’s Diamond pendant. *GASP* BAD! >:(

Demands are made for the Emerald’s location, Mirai loudly defies the villain again and villain decide to wreck things as a response. Yada yada yada, same old, same old.

Except with them missing one Diamond and unable to transform into Precure, they really can’t do anything to stop Sparda.

As the situation becomes grimmer, so does the anger start to build within Riko as she surveys the damage of the town.

We even get a mini-montage of a younger Riko (OMG ISN’T SHE THE SWEETEST LIL’ WITCH-IN-TRAINING?!?!? KYAAA~!!! xDD) on her first time visiting all the shops, essentially telling us how many important memories she’s made here and how much the people who helped her mean to her.

This finally, finally makes her blow her top.

How dare this cretin selfishly trample all over the innocent people trying to do their daily jobs peacefully! How dare this insect woman make a mess of their community, a place where everybody works so hard to support each other, without remorse!

That is absolutely unforgivable!!

...but at the same time, Riko releasing her anger is just what they needed. Her feelings are now fully synchronized with Mirai’s...

...which causes the Ruby to awaken and reveal its true form to them.

Hmm, this is really fascinating because we can interpret it to mean that passion, the idea that the Ruby represents, is linked to many emotions and not just a strong sense of love towards something. 

Or you can say even “negative” emotions like anger or sorrow can also be proof of a very strong love.

Considering that rage and passion are often symbolized through flames and fire imagery, I’d say that the connection between those two is really appropriate for these turn of events.

But moving along...

THE BIRTH OF RUBY STYLE~!!!

(⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡

I’ll go into my thoughts on this design another day but ahhh, I do so love this Form Change to death. Have a hard time deciding if this is my top favorite among the MahoPre forms.

As for the battle, well, sad to say this one wasn’t worth writing home about either. And I think the animation quality dropped a little around this part of the ep. Not sure why there’s a sudden inconsistency when there wasn’t that much “fighting” going on.

But again, I’m not here to write about the battle scenes (until maybe post-Felice debut), which are more or less the same anyway so I’d just be repeating myself if I were. I’m here for the chemistry between the girls, the character studies and so on.

Some key highlights, though, because I couldn’t ignore them:

Mofurun catching the Diamond back like one would catch a home run ball.

I’M SO PROUD OF YOU, MY BABY!!!!!

x3

This kick.

This kick is everything.

Miracle and Magical grabbing each other’s hands to help propel their feet at the Yokubaru.

And then the ice thawing immediately upon impact, a call out to the Frozen Clementines they always eat and further demonstration of symbolism of passion through fire because heat melts ice.

Looks like this might’ve been the first time Riko was successful in using this type of magic. Too bad you can’t really eat it. But not that you’d really want to, lol

Then Ruby Passionale and another day saved.

Yay~

And now everybody’s witnessed the legend in the flesh!

lol, Miracle being polite to the crowd while Mofurun is trying to hide her face ("No pictures, please-mofu!”) and Magical is so close to freaking out cuz they gotta get outta here before their transformations become undone and their true identities are found out and ohhh, we don’t want to stick around to find out what that’s gonna be like......

...so they leave by leaping to the rooftops.

Classic.

Later that day, they go to pick up Mirai’s broom and aww, that’s so nice of Gustav to give her a cute ribbon as an extra service!

It comes in both her and Riko’s colors, too! How did he know?!?!?!? 8D

And he even gave one to Riko to match with Mirai!

Ugh, Gustav is so awesome. I want to buy him a steak dinner. 

I’ll buy dinner for any character in story who helps me ship my ship, hahaha! xD

Hehe, my lovely girls~

I love them soooo much. <3

Mmkay, I’m done for the day. I think I can manage to do one more post for next week. Then we’ll see what happens from there cuz I’ll be going back to work soon.

[aviss]

If you still want prompts: The Fool!

Hi @sabakunoai​ I’m so sorry it took me this long to fill this prompt! It seems I managed to write myself into a block during nano and every time I started to write I just got nowhere, but thankfully a week of not writing and just reading has done the trick! Hope you like it. I have lifted some of the dialogue straight from the book, an alternate take on the White Tower scene

The Fool: madness, cliffs, gambling, innocence, recklessness

"Close the door and come here."

She did as he bid her. "The white cloak…"

"No longer mine and good riddance to it," Jaime said, relishing the shock on her face. He had changed his Lord Commander armour and cloak for the red and gold of the Lannister, and a weight he hadn't expected lifted from his shoulders when he'd shed it. No more council to attend, no more expectations, no more tedium. Let the people call him an oathbreaker for it, they had been doing it for almost twenty years, why should he care now. "It was the white cloak that soiled me, remember? Now I can regain what I once had."

He had thought of nothing else since the moment he had returned to King's Landing with the big, honourable wench in tow. He couldn't help it, he saw something of himself, of the boy who had wanted to be Arthur Dayne, in her. She had saved his life, then she had cared for him and finally brought him back to King's Landing the way she had sworn to do, even if there was nobody to uphold her oath to anymore. She was honourable to a fault, and it had made him believe in it for the first time in too many years.

"Jaime," she began, approaching him hesitatingly, her eyes fixed on his crimson armour. "Why? I thought you had been made Lord Commander?"

"I had and then I was released from that yoke. How can a cripple protect a King?" It had been made clear to him there was nothing left for him in King's Landing; with no hand, he could not protect his King, sparring with Addam had proven that. Cersei was lost to him, if she had ever been his, repelled now by his maiming. His brother was in the Black Cells waiting for the headsman for killing the King. 

He had gone to Tywin as soon as his sister had left him and offered him what he had always wanted; Jaime out of the Kingsguard, taking command of the Lannister Army and later taking over as Lord of Casterly Rock. Tywin had wanted to make a betrothal immediately, Jaime had managed to negotiate for one year of freedom. One year to set the Riverlands to rights. One year to search for Lady Sansa with the wench. One year to find his honour again, and maybe his own wife if he didn't want his father to choose one for him. 

He looked at Brienne, looking uncomfortable in the blue dress, though it was a great improvement from the pink monstrosity Bolton had inflicted on her. "Did you mean what you said to Ser Loras? That I had honour?" she asked, a blotchy flush on her face making her even more homely.

"You do." She was the most stubbornly honourable person he had ever met, and she made him want to be as well. "And you have an oath to uphold, same as I do. Steelshakns is on his way to the North with Arya Stark."

"You gave it to him?" She cried, dismayed. "You promised--"

"No, I didn't." Jaime cut her off before she could start criticizing him. "My father never had her, he gave him a girl to say she is Arya Stark, there is nobody left to say she isn't. Her sister has fled the city, accused of Kingslaying. If she yet lives, she's far away from here and my brother is not talking." If he knew where she was, something Jaime doubted.

The wench frowned. "Why are you telling me this? You father's secrets?"

Because I trust you with them. "I pay my debts like a good little lion," he said instead. "I promised Lady Stark her daughters, one of them is still alive. We have a chance to find her."

"We?" she almost choked on the word.

Jaime didn't answer. "I have a gift for you." He reached under the Lord Commander's chair and brought it out. Brienne approached it cautiously as if fearful it would bite her. When she folded back the crimson cloth rubies shone alongside the gold, reflected in her astonishing eyes. She picked it up carefully, reverently, but Jaime wasn't looking at her hands but her eyes, where the wonder and covetousness were plain to see. She slid it from the scabbard, the wicked black blade with red ripples in it. The wench's mouth parted, a soft exhalation falling from her lips, her eyes as wide as he had ever seen.

"Valyrian steel," she breathed, Jaime looked down at her hands holding the sword with the utmost care. "I have never seen such colours."

"Nor I," Jaime looked back up at the wench's face. He was still bitter he would never use such a fine sword himself, was angry with his father for gifting it to him now he was useless. "Take it, a sword so fine is lost on a cripple like me."

"Jaime--"

"All the best swords have names, it would please me if you called this one Oathkeeper."

"Oathkeeper," she repeated, then slid the sword back into the scabbard.

"It does come with a price, though," he said. 

Brienne's expression closed off then, her shoulders tensing, brow furrowed in a scowl. "I told you, I will never serve…"

"...such foul creatures as us. Yes, I recall," Jaime snapped, weary. Why did she always have to misinterpret everything he said? He wondered at the cleverness of his plan now, if they were incapable of one conversation while he was giving her a present, they would certainly murder each other one year on the road together. This was madness. And yet, he was going to go through with it. "That's not what I'm asking you to do. The price is my company, it's a steep one, I know. Do you have it in you to pay it, wench?" She snapped her mouth shut and blinked slowly. Like this, she appeared even more bovine and slow. "Have I rendered you speechless?"

"Why?" She finally asked, the same question he had been asking himself since the moment he left his father's rooms in the Tower of the Hand, a smugly confused Tywin inside who had been handed the thing Jaime had been denying him for years, and for such a paltry price.  "I thought your place was here protecting your--your King?" She didn't say your son, but he heard her tongue tripping over it.

"He is protected by enough two-handed knights, he doesn't need me here. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honour, I also swore an oath to Lady Stark and I'm not upholding it stuck in King's Landing." There was much more to it, but the wench didn't need to know about his fights with his sister and the death knell of their relationship. You great golden fool, of course he lies to you, same as I do. She didn't need to know how useless he was now without his hand, but he was sure she would help him regain some of the skill he once had, though all was far from his reach. She didn't know he was about to commit treason again and get his brother out of his cell. "I tire to argue with you, take the sword and meet me in the stables at dawn on the morrow, or go after Sansa on your own, it's all the same to me."

"Jaime…"

"Take the bloody sword and go, before I change my mind. I have much to do before we're due to depart."

She nodded and went to the door. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Ser Jaime." 

She left before Jaime had a chance to answer and he sat down with the White Book. He had not lied, he did have much to do, he needed to fill his page in the book before passing the mantle to whoever his father deemed appropriate, and then he had to get his brother out of the black cell before meeting with the wench.

He picked up the quill and started to painstakingly write in the book, his left-handed penmanship worse than that of a boy of five. The irritation he felt with the wench's mistrustful attitude was slow to fade. He had been beaten trying to keep her honour unbesmirched, had jumped in front of a bear for her, and taken her into custody to save her from Loras. And yet, she still doubted his intentions. 

He wondered what had possessed him to believe this was a good idea.

If they didn't kill each other, the next year was going to be interesting.

...

[bleedingsandshq]

[ JESSICA ALBA, FEMALE, SHE/HER, 38 ] Whenever I hear TEAM by IGGY AZALEA it always makes me think of SIENNA FIERRO. They have been so  CHARISMATIC & STEADFAST, but occasionally they have gotten a little bit FORTHRIGHT & IMPETUOUS through the years. They currently work as an UNDERGROUND FIGHTER, a strangely fitting job for someone with loyalty to THE 19TH as a WEAPONS SPECIALIST. THE SCENT OF CHANEL PERFUME LINGERING IN THE AIR AS SHE FLOATS PAST, DEFT FINGERTIPS COILED AROUND THE PISTOL GRIP OF A GUN AND RED-BOTTOMED HEELS CLICKING AGAINST MARBLE FLOORS make them easy to spot on the strip.

CONNECTIONS.

Her Sister: Despite her attitude toward her parents, Sienna always remained close with her sister who always advised her to simply attempt to appease their parents. Though Sienna never took her sister’s advice, her sister was always there for her nonetheless. Throughout her years of struggling with addiction, her sister was right there by her side, the one constant in her life. You could say that her sister was Sienna’s rock; her salvation. Though her sister is the younger of the two, Sienna often feels as if her sister adopted the role of the big sister. Underneath, Sienna harbours a pang of guilt over not being the role model elder sister. She feels as if she let her little sister down. Even at their parent’s funerals, her sister kept it together better than Sienna did. Truthfully, in more ways than one, Sienna looks up to her younger sister and puts her on a pedestal.

Law Enforcement: Given her parent’s esteemed status and the fact that they travelled from various states to others, perhaps Sienna has bumped into various people from her parent’s lives. Perhaps there is one particular person who knew her parents better than the rest. This person could have been someone who worked alongside her mother or father and knew them personally. Due to their close relationship with her parents maybe this person secretly checks up on Sienna and keeps an eye on her from afar. Really, this connection has endless possibilities but I feel that Sienna having someone in her life who knew her family would help her feel closer to her parents.

Friend Turned Enemy: Maybe this person and Sienna were friends from New York in the form of one of the other teenagers Sienna hung around with and got involved in reckless behaviour with. Or maybe this person was someone Sienna befriended during her stint in rehab. Or they could be someone Sienna met when she moved to Las Vegas. Under whichever circumstance they met, one fact remains: the two are no longer on friendly terms. They were once close and trusted each other with anything but now, there is obvious hostility. Perhaps there was a betrayal, blackmail, a breach of trust, lack of communication, a simple misunderstanding. Whatever it was that cracked this relationship is set in stone and is unlikely to ever go back to how it once was. Some things are just too broken to be mended.

Toxic Relationship: Sienna has always had bad habits, has always gravitated to toxicity like a moth to a flame. It would be safe to assume that 90% of her relationships have also been bad for her. When she kicked her addiction to the side, the broken element inside her found itself magnetised to the darkness in people. More especially, attracted to men she knew were no good for her. Though, in the end, Sienna would always manage to break free and leave these men behind. However, there was always this one man she couldn’t seem to stay away from. She met him when she moved to Las Vegas and instantly she knew he would break her heart yet it didn’t deter her from continuing to crawl back to him. These two have what can only be described as a toxic relationship. Neither is good for the other yet neither can seem to walk away.

BACKGROUND.

Sienna Fierro was born in Mexico City where she resided for the first decade of her life with her adoring parents and her younger sister. Soon after her 10th birthday, the Fierro’s packed up their lives and headed for New York City.

Raised in Manhattan by two successful and entitled lawyers, the Fierro girls were seemingly also destined for greatness. Their parents cherished them and they led a life of luxury, wanting for nothing.

However, due to the line of work that their parents were involved in, the Fierro daughters spent the majority of their time living with their grandparents who held a great deal of responsibility for their upbringing. Although their grandparents were rather strict in manner, their environment remained enriched with love.

It was on her 13th birthday that Sienna received her grandmother’s most prized possession: a pair of ballet pumps. Despite her young age at the time, her grandmother firmly believed that Sienna was mature and wise enough to understand the concept of ballet and to one day desire pursue a career in the profession, just as her grandmother had.

Back then, Sienna would say her biggest influence at the time was indeed her grandmother, even more so than her own mother. Thus the instant that she set her eyes upon the ballet slippers, she believed that her fate had been sealed. That same year, her grandmother enrolled her in her old ballet school where a young Sienna spent the following two years dancing and practically living with her grandparents. It wasn’t long until Sienna possessed dreams of becoming a prima ballerina.

Unfortunately, at 16, Sienna’s hopes of further pursuing ballet tumbled down around her after sustaining a serious injury. During a rehearsal for a show, she had sprung into a Spanish pas de chat, a leap she was more than well acquainted with. However, her landing was less than smooth. After the accident, an orthopaedic surgeon had told the girl that it was likely that her knee would never fully heal, thus she would never be able to dance the same again. Ballet had been a passion for Sienna for so long. It acted as an emotional outlet. It was her form of art. Somewhere to place her competitive focus. And now, it was gone. Forever.

By the time Sienna turned eighteen, the grey cloud hanging over her had grown larger which led her to wind up involved with a group of her peers who were a bad influence. As a result of the lack of her parent’s presence in her life and her crushed ballet dreams, the girl spent her summers engaging in endless nights consisting of alcohol consumption and occasionally dabbling in various forms of drugs. Naturally, her parents were far from pleased by their daughter’s behaviour as they had a reputation to uphold. Yet this failed to deter Sienna as she continuously rebelled against her parents. She hung around with the wrong crowd, paid little to no attention to her education, and spent more time out of her home than in it. It wasn’t until her grandmother passed away that same year, that Sienna felt a real, human emotion.

After her grandmother’s passing, Sienna moved back into her parent’s house, enabling her to grow a little closer to them. Try as she did, she couldn’t help but rely on her parents when she found herself struggling further with her continuing drug addiction. Although they were disappointed, she was their daughter and they did everything in their power to ensure that she was safe and that she got the help she needed. During the course of two years, Sienna showed little to no signs of improvement forcing her parents to decide that it might be best to admit their daughter to a private drug rehab facility.

At first, Sienna had disagreed and promised them that she could kick her addiction to the curb if given more of a chance. However, after struggling for two years, deep down she realised that she was too far gone and needed help. It was the first time in a long time that Sienna felt like a child again. A child who needed and relied on her parents. A child who deeply regretted all her wrongdoings, getting tangled up in the wrong web of horrible friends, and disrespecting her parents who she constantly pushed away.

After completing her time in the facility, a then 21-year-old Sienna decided to get her life back on track and so she moved into her own apartment and obtained various educational certificates to try and alter her future career prospects. She was doing better and more importantly, she felt better. Until the following year when her parents had met their fatal end in a road traffic accident. Though it was a struggle for Sienna not to backtrack and break her sobriety, she managed to push through and steer herself away from her former addictions.

Following another year in New York, Sienna decided to pack up her belongings and head for Las Vegas where she had a promising career prospect. At the age of 23, she found herself working in Lady Luck Casino. Though it wasn’t long until she wound up caught up in underground fights where, much to even her own surprise, she excelled. It became another emotional outlet for her. One that replaced ballet from all those years prior.

It was through her keen fighting ability and technique that Sienna was recruited by The 19th. Initially, starting as an employee who regularly fought in various underground areas until she was promoted to a solider and now, finally, due to her strength as a soldier, she has been recruited to a weapons specialist. Although she continues to engage in fighting, her main priority is her role within The 19th thus she doesn’t fight as much as she once did.

Sienna has been in Las Vegas for 15 years, 13 of which she has worked under The 19th syndicate. Since childhood, she has been through a lot and has lost a lot but somehow, she was always able to build herself back up again. Is this the life that she had envisioned for herself? Not exactly. But was it better than any other alternative, especially one where she could have lost her life to a world of drugs? Yes. Where Sienna is now is exactly where she wants to be. And maybe this is exactly what she needs to fully emerge from the ashes of her haunting past.

SIENNA IS CURRENTLY CLOSED & WRITTEN BY CHRISSIE.

[positivelyominous]

Oxfordshire - 2008 AD (Again)

(Previous) (First) 

Azruba’al stumbled hastily out of the cab and tugged nervously at his bowtie. To remove at least a little complication from the evening, he had assumed the form he’d first met the current generation of Sisters in. Cutting around the back of St. Beryl’s Church, Azruba’al jogged to the rear entrance, clutching the picnic basket tightly in his arms. There was a man sitting on the little terrace there, next to the dustbins, smoking a pipe and looking troubled. He glanced up at Azruba’al as he approached and made to greet him.

“Er, hullo–“

“So sorry, can’t stop to chat, very late.”

The man next to the dustbins watched the other man’s form disappear into the building. He let out a small, helpless puff of smoke. First the unexpected contractions, then the oddly behaving staff, and now some strange fellow in a big coat rushing through the back doors with a picnic basket. Mr. Young had liked the look of the hospital when he’d brought his wife inside; it was clean and modern -but not too modern- and the presence of the nuns gave it a warm, serene feeling. But now he was wondering if everything was all right after all…

⧗

“Blast that stupid machine,” Azruba’al snarled under his breath, striding through the empty hallway, “Half an hour late, I am half an hour late! Please don’t have started without– well, they wouldn’t, would they? I mean they couldn’–“

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he nearly ran right into a black-robed figure coming around the corner.

“Oh! Good grievance, I–“

“Master Azruba’al! You’ve come at last!”

The demon in question straightened up, a look of relief brightening his pudgy features.

“It’s so nice to see you again,” said the nun, who was known amongst her Sisters as Mary Loquacious*, and was preparing to live up to her name, “I was barely out of Sunday school the first time– Hell’s teeth, you haven’t aged a bit! I–“

“Yes, yes, it’s lovely to see you again too, dear girl,” Azruba’al interrupted, quickly. He knew what would happen if he let her pick up steam, “I am rather late, I believe?”

“Oh yes, forty-six minutes and twenty-six seconds exactly,” Mary replied, with a cursory glance at the watch pinned to her breast.

Azruba’al scowled, “Right, you’d best be quick about it, then.”

He pressed the basket into Mary’s arms, “Here he is. Get him to the Cultural Attaché as quick as you can.”

“Oh my star– this– it’s him? The Adversary? Destroyer of Kings? Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is Called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Dark–“

“Hell’s sake, yes! Yes, it’s him, now hop along, there’s a good girl,” cried Azruba’al, nearly pushing the woman back around the corner, “We don’t want him to be forty-seven minutes late, do we?”

“Of course not, Master Azruba’al,” said Mary Loquacious, lifting one of the lids of the basket to peek at the Long String of Epithets That We Shall Hence Refer To As The Adversary, “Ohh, look at him! He’s got his daddy’s complexion!”

“They’re all like that at first,” said Azruba’al absentmindedly.

“No horns, though,” she remarked.

“I’m leaving, now,” said Azruba’al, letting go of the woman’s shoulders.

“Too young for fangs, and– oh! Yes, Satan keep you! Good night!”

Azruba’al was gone before she’d finished speaking. Mary gave a little shiver of excitement and bustled quickly down the hall. She could hardly believe it. Here she was, Sister Mary Loquacious-You’d-Best-Not-Get-It-Wrong-Again, cradling The Adversary. For all her years as a Satanist -which were indeed all of them, having been born into the faith- she’d never imagined that she would be at the thick of their greatest hour. No more tea-and-cookies duty for her. Speaking of, she’d meant to take a tin to the American Cultural Attaché…

“There you are!”

Sister Mary’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a very flustered Sister Grace Voluble.

“They’re getting antsy in there, they think something’s wrong! Have you got the– oh, for Hell’s sake, Mary, just a tin! They don’t need a whole picnic!”

Mary glanced down in confusion before puffing up a little, smugly, “I don’t have cookies. I don’t have a picnic, either. What I’ve got is the One We’ve All Been Waiting For, The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of––“

“Oh, thank the Fallen One,” interrupted Sister Grace, making to snatch the basket out of Mary’s hands.

Mary drew away, indignantly, “Master Azruba’al has entrusted me with the Child.”

Sister Grace looked as if she was about to argue, before thinking better of it.

“Well you had best get him to the nursery and tag him so we can deliver him to his ‘parents’. We can’t pretend to be weighing them forever.”

Mary nodded primly and marched towards the nursery.

There is a game teachers use to explain probability to their pupils. Each child receives a chart and a bag with a variable amount of red and blue tokens inside. They are instructed to remove a single token from the bag without looking, note its colour on the chart, then put it back in and repeat to their hearts content†. The point of the exercise is to show that the probability of drawing a red token or a blue token changes depending on how many of each token there are. For example, if there were two blue tokens, and one red token, it would be less likely to draw out the red token without looking. It would be even less likely, say, if someone painted the red token blue by mistake. Even if you were looking straight at the tokens, you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

There were three rosy-pink babies in three blue swaths resting in three hospital bassinets. Sister Mary had just wheeled in the last one, the most important one, and was heading towards the worktable for a pen and a tag. At that moment, another Sister entered.

“Mary! What are you doing in– oh! That’s all three, thank Bowels, we can finally send them off!”

Before Mary could protest that she hadn’t tagged the Adversary yet, and what if he got misplaced, the newly arrived Sister was chivying her out of the room, insisting she get those biscuits.

Mary let out a deep, disappointed sigh as the nursery door slammed behind her. Well. At least she’d get to meet the Cultural Attaché.

⧗

Mr. Young had returned to room three by this time. He found his wife asleep, and no baby to speak of. Luckily, a nearby nun explained that the child had been taken away to be examined, and Mr. Young decided it best to retire to his wife’s side in case she woke up and panicked in the interim. By the time his son was finished being ‘examined’ and was delivered into the grateful arms of a flustered Mrs. Young, Mr. Young felt as if he’d been there for an eternity. And it was about to get longer.

“Hello! Oh, your Lady wife’s awake, then, good!”

Another nun was bustling into the room, bringing with her a tin and the air of someone who was about to sit down for a long, enthusiastic chat.

⧗

Harriet Dowling was laying in a cot in room four, surrounded by a complement of six security men in imposing black uniforms. One of them was carrying the latest and greatest in videotelephone technology, through which Harriet was meant to see her husband, the American Cultural Attaché. Thaddeus Dowling was technically on the line. He just wasn’t there visually. Spiritually, he was sandwiched next to his wife with a cool cloth and a strong hand to squeeze. Physically, he was on a business trip.

It was Sister Faith Prolix who was the first to congratulate Harriet, and, coincidentally, the first to suggest a name for the baby now cradled comfortably in his mothers arms.

Wormwood was a bit unconventional, yes, but the kindly Sister Faith was ever so convincing. Besides, Harriet didn’t much feel like naming the child ‘Thaddeus’ at that point.

⧗

The demon Azruba’al hurried through the night, too distracted to even think of calling another cab. He needed to make an urgent phonecall. A phonecall his people wouldn’t be too pleased about, but hopefully one they’d never discover.

⧗

There was a third baby. It didn’t have a tag, and presumably, didn’t need one.

Sister Constance Pleonastic had it in the backseat of the church’s old station wagon, driving it down the darkened midnight road. There were only two families, after all.

“I really can’t believe it’s finally come,” she prattled on to herself, faithfully upholding her convent’s chiefest tradition, “What a time to be alive. My grandmother would have killed to be in my place… if those Warrens hadn’t got her first.”

There was an orphanage in the nearby town. There was also a lake. The baby in the backseat was growing fussy. It could feel that something was wrong, somehow. This was not the same dark, rumbling thing it had been in before, and the endless, droning voice did not belong to the gentle hands that had wrapped it in soft blue.

It wasn’t quite ready to be the The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is Called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness. It wouldn’t be for another eleven years. It did, however, possess something of a defence mechanism to ensure that it at least had a chance of getting there.

And so it was that at that moment precisely, a large black cat came padding out of the bushes on the side of the road and into Sister Constance’s headlights.

The cat yowled. The station wagon swerved.

GOOD EVENING, SISTER CONSTANCE, said Death, helping a very dazed Sister Constance Pleonastic up from her body, I AM SURE YOU ARE VERY DISAPPOINTED. BUT TAKE HEART THAT YOU WILL STILL HAVE A SEAT TO THE FINAL SPECTACLE, EVEN IF IT IS LOWER THAN THE ONE YOU HAD PREVIOUSLY.

After sending the unfortunate woman on her way, Death was preparing to leave for his next appointment when something else at the scene caught his attention. Not a death; those were a constant everywhere you went. Creatures big and small; something was always dying. No, this thing was quite unorthodox, as it existed in the living world. There was wailing from the backseat of the ruined car. A wailing that Death would have ignored, had it not come from this particular source.

Death knelt in the wreckage, gently pushed aside the cushion of airbags, and lifted a blue bundle into his arms.

I DID NOT EXPECT US TO MEET SO SOON, he said, thoughtfully, as the child immediately quieted in his embrace, BUT I SUPPOSE IT IS NOT AGAINST THE RULES. I HAVE YET TO RIDE. AND YOU HAVE YET TO CALL ME.

Even still, the child needed protection. It needed a home.

Without another word, Death drew a pitch-black wing of oblivion over the infant, and the both of them disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the smouldering wreck.

———————————————————————————————————

*It was called a Chattering Order for a reason. To explain it properly, however, one would have to do the authorial equivalent of joining up. Hopefully, the name says it all.

†Certain hearts grow content faster than others.

[berniesrevolution]

In today’s Washington Post, Elizabeth Bruenig has an article arguing that socialism should no longer be considered a dirty word. Socialists believe that “working Americans deserve a say in how the country’s vast wealth will be used,” and that “more than policy tweaks will be needed to empower everyday people to participate meaningfully in society and democracy.” Since these are sensible positions, she says, socialism is at the very least a reasonable political tendency. She is, of course, completely correct, and all of the common criticisms of contemporary democratic socialism are misleading, unfair, or outright false.

In explaining why it can be difficult to figure out what socialism means, Bruenig notes that “the United States doesn’t have a familiar, established socialist history to look to for guidance on what socialism might mean in this country.” It’s certainly true that the U.S. doesn’t have a “familiar” socialist history, since students generally aren’t taught much about American socialists in school. (Eugene Debs is usually mentioned, mostly as a curiosity.) And it’s true that in the U.S., unlike many European countries, there was never a socialist movement that had mass popular support. In England, for instance, the Labour Party founded by socialist Keir Hardie would become a dominant force in British politics for the entire 20th century and establish the modern social welfare state. In France, socialists took over Paris! (A few things also happened in Russia.) Nothing comparable occurred in America, hence the title question of Werner Sombart’s 1906 book Why Is There No Socialism in the United States?, a question followed up nearly a century later in the book It Didn’t Happen Here: Why Socialism Failed In The United States.

But I also think it’s worth remembering that even though socialism “failed” here, insofar as it never became the kind of political force it was in many European, Latin American, Asian, and African countries, we do have a socialist history, and a rather inspiring one! Delving into that history is a great way to find lessons for contemporary democratic socialists. And in some ways, the successes of American socialists have been underappreciated. As I’ve written before, the list of socialist mayors in the United States in the early 20th century is impressively long, and one reason the Socialist Party fizzled after about 1908 is that the other major political parties actually began co-opting the Socialist agenda. I recommend reading Ira Kipnis’ The American Socialist Movement 1897-1912, which talks a lot about where the socialists succeeded and where they didn’t. Many of the intra-socialist debates were the same ones we are having today: What does socialism really mean? Are particular reforms “socialist”? To what extent should socialists work within the existing political system? Unfortunately, they did not resolve those debates then, and the first thing to learn is that we need to do better this time around.

The history of the American Socialist Party and the IWW are fascinating in their own right. (As well as the histories of socialist publications like The Masses and the Appeal to Reason.) But I’d like to single out a few historic American socialists who I find exemplary. We do have a grand left tradition in the United States, one carried forth from generation to generation by humane and committed activists. We should never forget their lives, struggles, and ideas.

Hubert Harrison

Hubert Harrison is one of my favorite forgotten Americans, period. Known as the “Black Socrates,” he was an important figure in the Harlem Renaissance, renowned for his dazzling streetcorner oratory and the seriousness of his intellect. Jeffrey B. Perry’s excellent biography of Harrison calls him the “voice of Harlem radicalism” and the book summary gives you a flavor of Harrison’s extraordinary life:

The foremost Black organizer, agitator, and theoretician of the Socialist Party of New York, Harrison was also the founder of the “New Negro” movement, the editor of Negro World, and the principal radical influence on the Garvey movement. He was a highly praised journalist and critic (reportedly the first regular Black book reviewer), a freethinker and early proponent of birth control, a supporter of Black writers and artists, a leading public intellectual, and a bibliophile who helped transform the 135th Street Public Library into an international center for research in Black culture.

Harrison is particularly notable for the way he combined “race consciousness” with “class consciousness,” And while considered a “Harlem Renaissance” figure, he was critical of the entire concept, because he felt it diminished previous black achievements. As a brilliant atheist, socialist, anti-racist intellectual, Harrison is a standout figure in the history of the left who deserves to be given his due.

Helen Keller

Keller herself is, of course, well-remembered. But her radical socialist politics are still too frequently neglected. She was a member of the Industrial Workers of the World and a supporter of Debs, an anti-militarist feminist trade unionist who was staunchly committed to the rights of working people. If you read her socialist writings, it can actually be a little surprising to realize just how firm her conviction was. Here she is describing the IWW and why she supports it:

The creators of wealth are entitled to all they create. Thus they find themselves pitted against the whole profit-making system. They declare that there can be no compromise so long as the majority of the working class lives in want while the master class lives in luxury. They insist that there can be no peace until the workers organize as a class, take possession of the resources of the earth and the machinery of production and distribution and abolish the wage system.

I don’t remember hearing that when we watched The Miracle Worker in middle school! In her essay “How I Became A Socialist,” Keller says she is pleased that people seem so interested in her inspiring life story, particularly because it will help get the word “socialism” into more newspapers! (Ah, how she underestimated the power of the whitewashing machine!) She also amusingly recounted how the New York Times asked her to write an article, before immediately printing an editorial condemning the “contemptible red flag.” This would not do, Keller said:

I love the red flag and what it symbolizes to me and other Socialists. I have a red flag hanging in my study, and if I could I should gladly march with it past the office of the Times and let all the reporters and photographers make the most of the spectacle. According to the inclusive condemnation of the Times I have forfeited all right to respect and sympathy, and I am to be regarded with suspicion. Yet the editor of the Times wants me to write him an article!

Nor did Keller think much of the Brooklyn Eagle when they suggested that her left-wing politics were a product of her physical disabilities. Keller’s reply is so deliciously scathing that it’s worth quoting at length:

The Brooklyn Eagle says, apropos of me, and socialism, that Helen Keller’s “mistakes spring out of the manifest limitations of her development.” Some years ago I met a gentleman who was introduced to me as Mr. McKelway, editor of the Brooklyn Eagle. It was after a meeting that we had in New York in behalf of the blind. At that time the compliments he paid me were so generous that I blush to remember them. But now that I have come out for socialism he reminds me and the public that I am blind and deaf and especially liable to error. I must have shrunk in intelligence during the years since I met him. Surely it is his turn to blush… Oh, ridiculous Brooklyn Eagle! What an ungallant bird it is! … The Eagle is willing to help us prevent misery provided, always provided, that we do not attack the industrial tyranny which supports it and stops its ears and clouds its vision. The Eagle and I are at war. I hate the system which it represents, apologizes for and upholds. When it fights back, let it fight fair. Let it attack my ideas and oppose the aims and arguments of Socialism. It is not fair fighting or good argument to remind me and others that I cannot see or hear. I can read. I can read all the socialist books I have time for in English, German and French. If the editor of the Brooklyn Eagle should read some of them, he might be a wiser man and make a better newspaper. If I ever contribute to the Socialist movement the book that I sometimes dream of, I know what I shall name it: Industrial Blindness and Social Deafness.

Mother Jones

I think if there is one thing we can say for certain about Mother Jones, it’s that she wouldn’t think much of the magazine that publishes under her name. She was certainly no liberal. (“I’m not a humanitarian, I’m a hell-raiser!”) She traveled across the country organizing strike after strike and motivating workers to resist the strike-breakers. She led a march of hundreds of child laborers, which ended up outside Teddy Roosevelt’s summer home, where she demanded to see the president to protest child labor. (She was refused.) She went to prison, was released, raised more hell, went to prison again, and then went to meet John D. Rockefeller, spending two hours telling him personally about the conditions in his mines and demanding he improve them. She was generous toward Rockefeller though: “Him raised in luxury, how could he know anything about real things? It isn’t his fault, though—the raising he got is the cause of it.” The woman who reminded laborers “You ain’t got a damn thing if you ain’t got a union!” was one of the most fearless, frank, uncompromising champions of working people in American history.

“I asked a man in prison once how he happened to be there and he said he had stolen a pair of shoes. I told him if he had stolen a railroad he would be a United States Senator.”  — Mother Jones

Peter Clark

Peter Clark is known as the first African American socialist. He was an active abolitionist in the decades leading up to the Civil War, and then afterwards became the first black school principal in the state of Ohio. He ran for office, ran a newspaper, taught black students, supported striking workers. He was once fired by the school he worked at after he taught students about the radical “atheist” thinking of Thomas Paine. Clark’s life is documented in Nikki Taylor’s America’s First Black Socialist: The Radical Life of Peter H. Clark. Here is an excerpt from a talk he gave on socialism in 1877:

Many wise men, learned in political economy, assure us that their doctrines, faithfully followed, will result in a greater production of wealth and a more equal division of the same. But as I have said before, there is but one efficacious remedy proposed, and that is found in Socialism. The present industrial organization of society has been faithfully tried and has proven a failure. We get rid of the king, we get rid of the aristocracy, but the capitalist comes in their place, and in the industrial organization and guidance of society his little finger is heavier than their loins. Whatever Socialism may bring about, it can present nothing more anarchical than is found in Grafton, Baltimore and Pittsburgh today.

(Continue Reading)

[merrylittlehogwartsrp]

Happy Holidays, Elva! We are thrilled to “invite” Neville Longbottom (fc Justice Smith) back to Hogsmeade for a little forced Winter Cheer. We loved the short evocative notes in your app that clearly put to mind 7th year as well as where Neville is today.

Please pack your bags and send in your tumblr. Additional information can be found here!

OOC DETAILS:

NICKNAME: Elva

AGE (must be 18+): twenties

PRONOUNS: she/her, they/them

ACTIVITY ESTIMATE: I check the dash daily, and try to post at least once daily, though sometimes replies take me a little longer to write. 

CHARACTER DETAILS:

FULL NAME & NICKNAMES: Neville Longbottom

BIRTHDATE: July 30th, 1980

BLOOD-STATUS: Pureblood

* GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender male

* GENDER PRESENTATION/PRONOUNS: Male, he/him

* SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pan-Demi Sexual

CHARACTER SITUATION:

OCCUPATION: 

Auror. After the battle of Hogwarts, there was little life could throw at Neville that he wasn’t ready for. After early graduation from Hogwarts, Neville went straight into work as an Auror. He’d already fought the battle that ended the war; he passed his training with flying colours, better than any exam he sat at Hogwarts. Neville is proud to have brought many a Death Eater to justice, but the job is wearing on him. If he’s honest, it was wearing from the start, only he was more used to it then. It was war and so what if he was tired if he was still alive and kicking? But the war ended three years ago. Why is it they’re still fighting? Neville needs a change of pace. He needs what his parents never got the chance to have, a life beyond being an Auror. He needs quiet, time to be in his garden, and he doubts the Department of Mysteries can offer that, but even if there’s just a small chance it’s better he has to try, right?

HOUSING: 

Neville rents a small two-bedroom cottage in the middle of nowhere, outside Norwich. It’s easy enough to get to if you possess magic, meaning despite having no neighbours it’s not remote by a long shot, but the space is a necessity for Neville, who dreams of having a large garden. The garden is there, but Neville wouldn’t deign to call it one yet on account of the weeds that have wreaked havoc on it. He simply hasn’t had enough time to work on it, between his job and catching up with the DA. Each time Neville steps outside his door he’s confronted with his shame; for neglecting his plants, for taking so long to figure out this life he’s built isn’t for him anymore, shame for avoiding his own unhappiness, all so he doesn’t have to admit to Gran and the rest of the world that he can’t go on being the grandson or the wizard they all want him to be. 

SOCIAL STANDING: 

Being a pureblood on the right side of the war, not to mention a celebrity, Neville’s social standing is pretty good. Of course, Neville is oblivious. He doesn’t put much store in such matters. It’s all nonsense; doesn’t actually say the first thing about you. But if he looked at the facts, son of an Auror who became an Auror himself, he would guess he was relatively successful, and he knows people treat him differently now (Gran does, that’s for sure). But enough of the boy who was “practically a squib” remains that he doesn’t recognise his worth in the eyes of others. And he doesn’t let himself think about it either, lest he slip back into old habits. He values himself, finally, and for the most part that’s enough. 

CHARACTER CONFIGURATION:

TALENTS/WEAKNESSES 

+ Herbology, Duelling, Negotiation and Leadership. 

- Potions, Flying, Lying

STRENGTHS/FLAWS 

+ Courageous, Resolute, Kind

- Still clumsy (yes, he did just spill this tray of four mugs of tea over the entire sofa), Insecure (Neville isn’t only trying to live up to his parents’ accomplishments, but who he has been these past four years. All his old insecurities are still there, he’s just stopped listening to them so much.) 

CHARACTER HISTORY: 

FAMILY BACKGROUND: 

Neville’s magic made itself known only when Neville was tumbling out of a window, dropped by his great uncle Algie who forgot about him at the mere sight of a meringue. It’s a defining moment for Neville. Not only does it say alot about his magic and how it works (stubbornly–his magic voiced the defiance that Neville was too shy, too insecure to put into words), but it also says a lot about his family. They didn’t hang about waiting for his magic to show. They forced it and him. Neville wonders if it’s always been this way–if this is the method that worked on his dad–or if it’s because his dad is no longer around for a casual chat that his family treats Neville this way, if grief has settled into their bones, reshaping their personalities into something slightly more gruff and heavy-handed. All Neville’s life his parents have lived in St Mungo’s, but he feels their absence keenly every time he’s around Gran or his great aunt and uncle. Even more so now that he’s an Auror. It’s like they’re all trying to pick up where his dad left off. But how long can you be an Auror before you start to lose pieces of yourself? And how many pieces can you lose before you’re not yourself anymore?

LIFE DURING THE WAR:

If you need someone who isn’t there, sometimes you have to step up and fill that role yourself. This is how Neville came to be one of the leading figures of the DA in Harry’s absence, along with Luna and Ginny. They all needed someone to follow, someone to tell them this fight needed to happen; that even in defeat, they could still make an impact and keep the fight alive. Neville will tell you that if it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else. And he’s not wrong. But he’s glad for all the hits he took on behalf of others, especially the younger students; that he became the human punching bag for the Carrows, absorbing whatever blow and hex they threw at him. It hurt, alot, but there was a silver lining to that cloud–the DA finally got to practise their healing spells.

Neville has never been one to stay on the ground when he’s down, though it used to take him longer to find his feet. During the war, Neville bounced right back up. He survived, despite mouthing off Carrow and Voldemort at every turn, speaking up when they spouted their bigotry, and defending other students against their cruelty. And he has a whole host of scars to show for it. Some wounds healed magically, and some took time, either because the spells were too difficult for the DA, the cut too deep, or Neville refused the help because there was another student in greater need. (There was always another student in greater need.) They’re on his face and torso mostly, dozens of little nicks on his skin and a few thicker scars from deep gashes, including one on his right cheek, one of the final cuts he received. Some days he wears them with pride. Others, he hates them, seeing nothing but the marks the Carrows left on him, on his skin and his mind. Neville response to pain is undeniably shaped by his experience during his seventh year. It makes him feverish, almost excitable. Neville has found what he’s good at. He doesn’t fear getting knocked down anymore, but maybe he should.

LAST THREE YEARS:

Neville threw himself into his work, and when he wasn’t on the clock, he was as good as working, checking in with his friends, scraping together the remnants of the DA and shaping them into something resembling people. Sometimes this meant having a drink down the Leaky Cauldron, and others it meant making sure they had food in the fridge or that their laundry hadn’t piled up. Either way, Neville kept on filling the role of DA leader that he’d gotten so comfortable in during his seventh year. That way he didn’t have to inspect his own damage. But if anyone wants a glimpse into Neville’s state of mind, all they have to do is look at his garden. The wildflowers hide it well, but anyone with a passing knowledge of plants would know instantly that Neville is not okay.

HOLIDAY DETAILS:

Neville’s one family tradition which he absolutely upholds is visiting his mum and dad at the hospital every day of the week before Christmas. He decorates their hospital room with paper chains and tinsel, and brings Christmas cookies and sweets. On the bad days, he only stays for a quick hello and goodbye, but on the good days, he spends hours with them, telling them about the good things, like the plants he’s planning on putting in the garden, or various anecdotes about Seamus or the lovely thing Luna said during their last meet-up. Neville doesn’t ascribe to any religious beliefs. He observes Christmas because it’s time he spends with his family. It gives him a reason to be at the hospital more often, doing something for his mum and dad. Neville loathes that he’s involved in the celebration. He would have nothing to do with it if it wasn’t compulsory (a fact which is setting off alarm bells in Neville’s head), except Gran is ecstatic. She wants to parade her grandson in front of everyone, talk about what a hero he is. Neville can’t wait…

OOC SUPPLEMENT:

SHIPS: Neville/Chemistry. 

CHANGES: Nope! All the bios are wonderful. I love them. 

FACECLAIM: Justice Smith, Henrik Holm.

[ghostphilia]

DP x Fallout Crossover: Ch 2

Chapter 1 here

Nora Taylor used to practice law before all this. She hadn’t been in the game in a while, but she was going to come back after Shaun’s birth. She was going to defend the rights of the people in a country that kept trampling them by selling the individual to corporations and using war as an excuse. She was going to make a change in society, and she was going to protect the weak, and she was going to raise a beautiful, smart, young boy with Nate, the love of her life. Yeah right.

She couldn’t help but let a loud laugh course through her whole body as she went through her thoughts, standing at the edge of the glowing sea. Nick Valentine was beside her, silent and eyeing her thoroughly, but not looking an inch more surprised than usual. He was used to Nora’s chagrin. He wasn’t quite as human as everyone else around him, but he would have eaten his mangled Stetson hat if he didn’t know Nora like the back of his trench coat by now. The lass had increasingly become more and more haunting since the day she had first stepped foot in his office with an impossible request. He couldn’t even fathom what kind of mental process one had to go through to shift from loving mother in a (relatively) tender world to one of the most ruthless, dangerous wastelanders currently in the commonwealth, but for Nora to make the cut, something had to have broken up or fizzled out in the central processing unit. Not that it didn’t make her any less good of a friend, or human being, no. Just a little trigger-happy and with the occasional psychotic outburst.

 Nora knew what nick was thinking whenever he gave her the long looks. She chuckled, seemingly unparsed by her own inner misery.

 “Ready to get out there again Nick? Haven’t set foot in this place in a while, didn’t really have much of an excuse to visit since our friend Virgil went all human again, I forgot how charming it was.” She chuckled again, hysterically. Nick kept being silent, near her, waiting her to calm down. She exhaled, and ran a hand through dirty, short red hair “All right all right, sorry for the little show there, it’s just been, what, one year? Wow.” She exhaled, composing herself inside her rad-resistant power armour. Nick nodded, making a small underhanded but affectionate comment about loosing screws. She didn’t need to specify. It had been one year since the both of them had traveled all the way into the glowing sea to find Virgil, a super mutant scientist. In a few weeks time, it would have been one year since she destroyed the institute, and murdered her own son.

 They were off to the glowing sea on a mission from the minutemen, a now growing force for good within the commonwealth. Nora hadn’t taken the position of leadership Preston had offered her, but she still helped out from time to time, made sure the group didn’t mess around again like before. She trusted Preston, but the guy was still way too emotional to handle things on his own.

 There had been a suddenly huge afflux of children of atom pilgrims, coming from all sides or the commonwealth and beyond, converging into the place of worship Nora understood as ground zero, Atom’s Crater. Most of them were harmless, but many had disrupted commonwealth settlements by acting violent towards non-believers, or bringing in radiation. Some brought with them chained glowing ones as offerings and items of worship, and more than a few times those ghouls had gotten loose, ending up in a bloodbath and a lot of radiation poisoning. Nora had dealt with the children before, and had found them mostly harmless, but these numbers had started to make her worried. The crazy worshippers might be weak from radiation sickness half the time, and hallucinating the other half, but now they were crazy and with an army, one that was hard to fight, since it was located in a place most people would be mad to even try to approach.

 She had popped her helmet on and moved forwards. They had traded a few essential quips as they moved inside the green storm. At the end of a day’s walk, something would shut both of their mouths entirely.

 The crater of Atom wasn’t just a crater any longer. It was a small town. She couldn’t even fathom where the children were able to scavenge that many supplies within a radioactive desert, but there it was… If these people hadn’t multiple times proved to be completely insane, she would have even felt some sort of awe, or innate respect, for what they were able to accomplish.

 Two men had stopped them in front of some sort of gates. They had erected a wall around the town borders, which Nora assumed wasn’t to protect from fellow men, since the only people roaming the glowing sea were the children themselves. Deathclaws, on the other hand, might’ve been increasingly attracted by the growing populace.

 “Hail Atom, travelers. You come to worship his holy vessel?”

 Nick and Nora had given each other a quick comedic glance.

 “We’ve come to meet with your leader, Mother Isolde. They know me, We’ve met a year ago. Although… she’s never really said anything about a holy vessel? What, has she been up somebody’s pants lately? Cause if so good for her.” Nora added commented in a half sarcastic tone. The guard dislodged him mandible, looking personally affronted.

 “Would you dare speak heresy against the mother and holy vessel? Atoms fury will rain upon all that..”

 He was stopped by Nick Valentine’s loud, raspy groan.

 “Remind me of why I travel with you again?”  He said, his voice grouchier than usual as he stepped up in front of Nora, trying to hide her as much as possible

 “Look Buddy, you’ve got to forgive my partner here, she talks a big mouth but could probably use a bit of atoms wisdom.” He put extra stress on the last part, turning around to glare at her. “You see, me and my partner here don’t mean you guys and your god no harm. We are just here to trade a few words with the good mother, representing the minutemen. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this many children out in the commonwealth, and since we are neighbours and all I think we oughta figure out a way to help each other, don’t you?”

 “As far as I’m concerned heretics like you should be banned from the holy site.” The guard hissed. “But we shall see what Mother has to say.” He nudged his head towards his radiation blaster, then motioned at the duo to follow him through the gates.

 Not everyone in the village looked like the usual children of atom worshipper. Some seemed to be new, and had just begun loosing their hair. Some were actual children, which made Nora’s stomach turn in disgust. Children had no way of making a crazy religious choice for themselves. Were these guys recruiting orphans and sending them to their deaths?

 “I’ve seen some of these people before, in the commonwealth. Pretty bold move to choose to leave everything behind for this.” Nick had commented off handedly as they approached the center of the crater, giving nora the quick glance that usually meant he suspected something rotten. Nora couldn’t be more inclined to agree. These ‘new people’ seemed to be there of their own will, but why such a sudden conversion to such a crazy religion. This village had walls now. They might have kept bad things out, but they could also hold things in. Did it have to do with something this.. vessel.. the guard was talking about.

 “Atom’s will is great, and he has blessed us with a grand gift. Even the stubborn nonbelievers can now see into his glory. Look for yourself.” The guard added smugly, as they approached the central crater.

 Surrounded by dozens of men and women in prayer, was a pool of radioactive water Nora was familiar with. What she wasn’t familiar with was the pedestal of glowing trinkets at its center, upholding something that was objectively just plain weird.

 It was the most vivid blue crystal she had ever seen. She would almost have confused it for ice if not for the fact that she hadn’t seen actual ice ever since she’d gotten out of her cryo-pod and that, well, the crystal seemed to be glowing. The most stunning thing though, was not the glow in the ice itself, but the bright, ethereal white light, outlining a human figure, trapped inside the crystalline obelisk.

 “Behold, foreigners, Atoms holy corpse. That is the vessel all here come to worship.” The guard phrased slowly, stopping in his step reverently. “You will be quiet and wait now, for Mother Isolde is about to give a sermon. We will meet her as she is finished.”

 Nora remembered Isolde. She had looked humble, crazy of course, but reasonable enough. That was not the way she looked now, as she walked out of a balcony, above ‘the relic’. What she looked now, was possessed. It was as if something within that glowing crystal had caused her to snap, well, snap more than she had already snapped before. Nora had been on the brink of loosing it a few times herself, and quite frankly, seeing Isolde’s face like that was driving it home a little too much.

 As she had reached the edge of the balcony, she had raised her hands to the sky, her long green robes flowing across her arms like wings. The whole town had quieted down, leaving only the sound of a few chants lost in the radioactive wind.

 “Six months ago, dear children, a few of our devoted found the Holy Vessel within the glowing pools of the west”

  “Six Months ago, we were lost in his glow, dear children, we were asking for his love. We were battling the non-believers, suffering to prove our faith. But we were unseen, unconnected, unloved. Yet fret not, for Atom is great, and his love infinite. For now, Atom has found us!”

 She paused, looking towards the sky, and lowering her arms onto the crowd.

 “Six months ago, I have gazed into Atom’s endless green eyes. Atom himself showed me a vision, through his body. He has given us a great gift, and bestowed upon us a great duty. For he will descend upon the earth, and he shall descend within this vessel. Dear children Atom wishes to live among us. Together, he wills to guide us through Division. Thus we must worship him, until he is resurrected. We must worship him and sacrifice for him, so that he may walk amongst us.”

 At this point, Isolde was visibly shaking.

 “He has spoken to me. He feeds on our feelings, asks for our pain, and we must answer to him. Each day we must. None will be like us in history. We are Atom’s chosen! We shall worship him, we shall save him, and he will save us!”

 And with that, she lifted some form of staff into the air, and the crowd exploded in a huge roar.

 “Tomorrow, we begin the ritual of awakening. Bless you All! May Atom be with you!” She erupted madly, retreating away from the balcony. The crowd remained in unrest, chanting furiously and making noise. The guard escorting Nora and Nick grabbed both of their arms to make sure they would not escape in the chaos, and led them towards the main hub. After waiting for a small time in a separate room, Nora was asked to step out of her power armour. Radiation levels seemed to be lower in the crater, and she didn’t want to start shooting just yet, so she begrudgingly accepted after popping a few pills of Rad-X. They were lead into the Mother’s residence. She awaited them while sitting. Meditating.

 “Welcome, wanderers” She smiled, politely facing them. “I see we have met before, you vanquished the heretic for us, way back. Brother Adam here tells me you have come to bargain for the Minutemen. How lucky for you to be here again, at such a great time of our lord’s awakening.”

 “Well that’s a way of putting it” Nick mumbled in the back.

 Nora stared down at Isolde. “Lady I have about a million questions more at this point that have absolutely nothing to do with what Preston asked me to do, but yes, let’s just say I’ve come to bargain.” She crouched down in front of her, relaxing, completely ignoring the tension in the room.

 “I see you’ve been stacking up quite a community here. Odd place to be at but hey, you guys seem to immune to this stuff, so good for you. Us ‘normal’…” She wiggled her fingers as if to say she was not normal at all “…people in the commonwealth though… well, let’s just say some of us don’t like all this radiation flying around? Some of your caravans have been harming our settlements, and well, we don’t really want to start preparing defenses against them if we can help it. We’d rather come to some form of agreement with your pilgrims, you feel? They stay away from our territories, and we make sure the roads to the glowing sea are safe to travel.  We could also exchange trades while we are at it. That’s just one of a few ideas.” She smirked.

 Isolde, oddly enough, seemed to be matching Nora’s smirk. Except for the mad glint in one of her eyes.

 “These seem all excellent ideas my child, but I am afraid they will have to wait. Tomorrow is a great day for our community, and none can tell what shall come after it, except for Atom himself”

 “Yeah, about that, what the fucking hell.. mmhph..”

 “I suppose what my partner is trying to say here.” Nick interceded again, at this point just plain used to it. “Is that we were surprised at how much your community has grown. We’ve also managed to see the relic, and hear your speech, and were wondering more about it.”

 “Ah, so Atoms glow has drawn you in. Not to worry, all can take his path to division, even those lacking human flesh.” She eyed him and smiled, ignoring Nick’s pronounced frown. “There is not much more I can say that my speech has not already revealed. All questions will be answered tomorrow. Atom has spoken to me, through his eyes I’ve seen what to do to bring him into this world, and I have chosen to serve him. He is close to resurrection, and tomorrow, he will walk amongst us.”

 Nora shifted on her feet. She didn’t like this. There was no way the children would resurrect their god, but whatever was going to happen, it couldn’t be pretty, and, well, if she could help it she didn’t wanna be anywhere around it.

 Except for…

 The children she had seen, among the crowd… Could she abandon them? It would be that easy now, after what she’d done, wouldn’t it?

 “Of course you’re welcome to stay for the ritual. We may continue our discussion after. Our brothers will prepare your loungings. You must leave me know, I have much to meditate on”

 A few reveries later, and a few question that Isolde kept outright dodging, they were brought to a separate room and left alone, asked to wait as the guard would bring back Nora’s power armour.

 They had been silent with each other, waiting for one to break the ice.

 “Nick..” Nora mumbled under her breath

 “Oh thank the railroad, I thought you were just gonna let me do the talking.” He whispered back.

 “You’ve been great at it so far, constantly interrupting me and everything”

 “You’re a real piece of work you know? I don’t know if you noticed here boss, but these people are straight up insane, and now they seem to think their god will walk on earth. I don’t like lying just as much as you, but I can omit a few personal opinions if it gets my gears still grinding underneath my trenchcoat.”

 “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You know what we have to do, right?”

 “My best guess at this point is that you first chose to run away with your tail between your legs, figuring that these people would accidentally blow themselves up, and then saw the obviously kidnapped children and took a 180 degree angle turn.”

 “You know me so well.”

 “So are we rescuing the children and the new recruits? Do we even know if they are here by force?”

 “Well, we could always talk to them and find out. Maybe they know what this ritual even is in the first place. Also, what did you think of that.. thing. That was just weird right?”

 “Don’t tell me you believe in that pigeon’s milk. It’s probably some rad infused crystal that happened to look like there’s a fella inside it. There’s lotsa weird stuff like that happening in the world.”

 “…You’re probably right. Probably also what drove the Mother insane. Gosh Nick this is a mess.”

 “You’re telling me, you got my work cut out for me. By the way, we should watch out while we are out in the crater. If some of these people were actually kidnapped, the dear Mother might definitely have sent some goons to babysit us. They could strike at any m…”

 Nick’s voice fizzled out, his golden eyes turning off. A small electrical device had been lodged in his back, seemingly shorting out his power. Nora turned as fast as she could, but a long sharp needle stabbed her near her neck juncture, and things gradually.. gradually turned to black.

[show-me-your-rocks]

Feeling creative and trying to think of a story that’s not been told. Here’s my shot at something somewhat original.

Chapter 1

Walter Hightower is a 62-year old man with nondescript features. He is of average height, with a paunch belly but not what he would really consider fat. Slightly overgrown gray eyebrows, a bushy mustache, and tortoise shell glasses adorn his face. His sunken brown eyes and bald head add to his look of an experienced life. He did possess some hair on the sides, which was in need of his bimonthly haircut. Walter suffers from several ailments which are standard for a man his age and build. A bad back, vision problems, senility, and digestion issues plagued him. Yes, Walter is an average Baby Boomer except for two things. He has stage three liver cancer and he is a serial killer.

In fact, Walter Hightower is the most prolific unknown serial killer the United States has ever had. He was good at what he did because he knew exactly how to do it. It wasn’t some innate ability, but a skill he had developed over decades. Consider Walter’s previous daytime profession as a carpenter. Just as he made several mistakes as a young apprentice just starting in the profession, in his hobby he had also made mistakes. And just as not knowing what you’re doing in carpentry can cost you dearly, not knowing how to kill discretely can cost you everything.

The connection between Walter’s day job and secret hobby was actually stronger than you might think. It was in his late teens or early 20s, he can never quite recall, that an image stuck in his mind that drove him to all of this. It was at work on the Petty house where he was a young apprentice still learning the ropes of the profession that he had a small accident. Nothing major. Just a minor movement of the hand saw and he has sliced open his thumb. It was a small injury that he would have barely even stopped working to notice, if it hadn’t been for the blood. Something about it, the sunlight hitting it or the translucent nature against his worn hands, enchanted him. He stared at it for what seemed like hours. It was at that moment that he had seen such beauty in something quite ordinary and also painful that changed the course of his life.

An obsession grew in him, like the very cancer that was consuming his liver now. At first he thought it odd and shook it off. But as he lay awake at night unable to sleep, he pictured the blood seeping out his thumb and would be lulled to a peaceful slumber. Soon this image would grow stale and he needed a new one to replace it. He developed an insomnia that nearly cost him his sanity. He realized he needed a new image. A different image. Maybe an image of someone else.

“That’s crazy” he thought to himself. “Hurting someone else to see their blood so I can sleep?” These were the rantings of a madman and not the ones of our still yet average Walter. But sleep was necessary and if that was the price to pay, Walter would surely find someone to foot the bill. But who?

So Walter tried to start small. He picked up hunting and fishing, which made him fit in more with the small community he was part of. Everyone else thought young Walter was just exploring new hobbies. In a way they were right. Hunting was more difficult because of the waiting for the right time of year and because of the wait for the perfect shot. But it proved more settling for his delicate condition as it provided more blood for him. All while also providing him a cover of outdoor sportsman, which played in nicely with the people of the small town. But the deer blood wasn’t the same. He was able to sustain it for a while, relying on a combination of the new image with the old one. But soon he was right back where he began, sleepless and desperate.

So then, it was decided. But who? Who could Walter kill and still not feel the overwhelming guilt that would further rob him of sweet slumber? Someone completely vile who the town would be glad to be rid of perhaps. But no, someone like that might be too well known and thus noticed missing. He needed to find someone that was already almost invisible. Someone who lived on the edge of the community. Someone who had few if any ties. No family, no real friends. Someone much like Walter himself. Perhaps that was the answer. Walter considered just killing himself instead of all thes innocent people. Up until now he had been doing it for his own personal and selfish reasons with his deer hunting. But he’d also done some good, by keeping deer population down and donating meat to needy families nearby. In his sleep-starved state he rationalized himself as a hero. If he was to continue his work in doing good for his community he needed to pick someone who took away from the value of the town but not so much to be one who was noticed. He thought hard and made a list. He even scored the potential victims on family connections, friend connections, and overall negative impact on local society.

He was down to three. He always liked that number, three. Something about it was pleasing. The first choice was an abusive single mother of two boys, Nicole Wright. Robbing children of their mother is such an abhorrent act but in Walter’s eyes, these kids would be better off. They weren’t living with Nicole. They had been taken by child protective services several times and he believed they were probably tired of bouncing back and forth between living with her and foster families. They were always taken from her at the hospital after receiving treatment for cigarette burns or broken bones. Other than the two boys, Nicole had no family in the area and was not on speaking terms with her parents who lived hours away. She was as bad a friend as she was a mother which led to lots of lone nights drinking at one of the local bars. If she went missing there would only be a few people who noticed and they were local bar flies who wouldn’t even really notice or care that she had left. Nicole was a strong potential victim.

Potential victim two was Greg Myers. Greg Myers was a loner. He wasn’t necessarily a really bad person who did horrible things and deserved to die. Sure he did some bad things every now and then. As a driver he was certainly reckless and had caused some accidents that hurt people because he thought he was too good to follow the rules of the road. He also donated things to charities. It wasn’t that he was looking to donate. It was just that he had stuff he wanted to get rid of and wanted to give it to someone who needed it. It all added up to being a pretty common person. The key to Greg being on Walter’s list was that he had no friends or family anywhere for miles. Greg had moved away from his home because he hated the big city life and wanted a small town experience. The thing is that when Greg moved here he didn’t realize that everyone knew everyone else’s business and wanted to talk all the time. Greg learned quickly not to overshare and essentially turned himself into a hermit. He could move back home but that would be admitting to himself that he was wrong and Greg was too proud to do that. His job working remote IT from home meant he didn’t have any work friends and with family far away, Greg had very few ties to the community as someon who actively sought to remove himself from it. Greg Myers was another strong potential victim.

The last one on Walter’s list was James Rockwell. James didn’t quite fit in with the other two. He was a relatively successful local business owner and had a beautiful wife. He had connections to the community and would surely be noticed if he was gone. So how did he end on Walter’s list? Because Walter Hightower hated James Rockwell with a fiery passion. After all it was partly James’ fault that Walter turned out the way he did.

Walter had friends growing up in elementary school but when their class hit middle school, so did puberty. At least for most. James was one of those early bloomers who got tall and whose voice dropped to a nice baritone. Seemingly overnight he became the most popular boy in the grade among the boys and girls. Walter took a bit longer to develop and that was something James noticed. With his newfound popularity James had a reputation to uphold and Walter was right there for the picking. It became a constant in Walter’s life. He didn’t do anything to draw this attention other than not have the right amount of testosterone.

Walter’s school life became a constant state of fear from some sort of verbal or physical attack from James or one of his new friends. Because of the constant negative attention the only friends that Walter had left him alone to fight his bullies for fear of guilt by association. But how could this happen? How could a child be left alone to fight this small army and no one at school or home to help? Well Walter grew up in the era of just fight your bully back and be a man. Walter never really saw the need for violence and so this advice was lost on him. School principals didn’t believe that James, who was a good athlete and also a strong student, would even waste time on Walter, who had become a middling student with no friends. It wasn’t that Walter was of below average intelligence. It was that he had lost focus in classes due to James and his friends. But who are principals going to choose - the kid with a bright future or the one they see as a nobody?

At home it was just as bad. Walter was made to feel weak by his father who didn’t see why he couldn’t just fight James and wasn’t one to hide his disappointment. They even engaged in sparring matches out back after dinner. It might have started out as a chance for Walter to learn a new skill but it turned into opportunities for Walter’s father to physically abuse him under the guise of friendly father-son time. His mother would clean him up afterwards to help Walter feel better but also to cover the marks so the school wouldn’t see. Walter’s mother was one who heeded her husband in spite of her objections. After all she was worried if Walter wasn’t taking the punches she might be the one doing it. Average grades, no friends, no romantic interests, and a bad home life. All because James Rockwell got a visit from the puberty fairy just a bit early. Just recounting the reasons for James being on the list caused Walter to feel the only real emotion he had left. Anger. A deep, searing rage filled him and he could feel the blood rushing to his face. It would be James first.

Chapter 2

Walter felt almost giddy after arriving at his decision. He knew there was risk in killing James but the mere thought of seeing his blood was enough to put him to sleep that night.

Walter began to plan. He took a couple days off work to follow James around and learn his daily routine. Luckily Walter was an average looking guy with his light brown hair and brown eyes, average height and build. He was every man and that would be his camouflage, his key. James had a very similar pattern to each day. He would leave for work at approximately 7:15, taking some less traveled roads to avoid the little traffic there was, arrive at work at 7:30 and work til 11:30 when he would take lunch to a nearby park. He would find a secluded corner of the park for lunch, eat in roughly 20 minutes and head back to work to arrive at 11:55. He would work until 5:30 and head home, arriving at around 5:45 with dinner waiting for him on the table. Walter saw three opportunities - on the way to work, lunch, and on the way home. But which of these would cause the least amount of stir?

If he took him on his way to work, his employees and customers would all notice because he wasn’t there to open up shop. If he took him at lunch then his absence would still be noticed by those same employees and customers. On the way home his wife would notice he wasn’t home and she would surely be one to call the police. Walter had to think about which one would work the best. Fewest witnesses, fewest people to notice he was gone.

Walter had hatched his plan and now it was time to execute. He went to work to not seem suspicious so that ruled out taking James on his way to work and at lunch. Walter left work at 3 while James was still working so he went to pay James’ car a visit. He took a small nail from work and poked a hole in one of the tires. Not a huge gash, but large enough to make a difference on the way home.

James was excited to leave work that day and head home because his wife Eleanor was making meatloaf. He was driving home with the windows down and the radio blaring when he heard a thumping noise. He turned off the radio and listened carefully. He pulled off to the side of the road to check on his car. He opened the hood and saw nothing wrong and then he checked the tires. He got a flat on the back tire of the passenger’s side. With the road he was on there wasn’t much of a shoulder so he had to be careful in jacking his car up to change the tire. As he was lessening the lug nuts he kept wondering how this could have happened, how he could have hit something that would puncture the tire, and why did it have to happen on meatloaf night. As he was lost in thought a stranger pulled over in a black truck to see what had happened.

Walter had used a hat and the fact that James hadn’t seen him since high school as a disguise to move in closely. With a tire iron in his hand he asked if he needed any help.

“No thanks, I’ve got it,” James said in a gruff manner. He was upset that he was going to have to pay for a new tire and that he was missing meatloaf.

“What happened?” Walter asked as he approached, ignoring James’ response and sounding as if he hadn’t been the one to cause all this.

“I just ran over something and got a flat,” James grunted as he secured the spare tire.

“What a shame,” Walter noted. He tried to fake sympathy in his voice for this man who had caused him so much pain and anguish. Maybe Walter should have gone into acting with the level of concern he thought he was able to put into his facade.

This was it. This was the moment to strike. James had put the last lug nut on the spare tire and was taking the car off the jack with his lug wrench. His only real weapon was in use. Walter reared back with his own tire iron and struck James on the head. If it was like the movies, James would be knocked cold. But it wasn’t like the movies. James fell but he just grabbed his head and looked up at Walter in shock and anger, reaching for his own lug wrench. Walter struck again on his face this time. A more successful blow. James laid there, not unconscious but not really moving. Walter struck again for good measure and this time he was sure he was out. Just to make absolutely sure and for a little enjoyment he hit him one last time.

The blood coming out of James’ face. It was beautiful. Walter had to touch it. It was a beautiful crimson and in the afternoon sun it seemed to sparkle. Walter played with it for a minute before he remembered he needed to dispose of the body and the car.

Walter wasn’t sure he would get this far so his plan from here on out was rough. He knew he would take James’ car and his body so there wouldn’t be any trace of him left to discover. He left his own truck which would be much less suspicious. He even moved his truck to cover the blood stains on the side of the road. By the time anyone would discover them they would be dried or washed away by rain. And blood on the side of a country road wouldn’t be suspicious. It would look an animal was hit by a car.

So Walter drove the car with James laying bloodied and unconscious in the back seat. He didn’t drive him far for fear of him waking up and attacking him. Walter didn’t know that he already killed James on the side of the road. He wasn’t a doctor and didn’t know how to check if he was still alive.

The next part of Walter’s plan was two-fold. He had driven him to a rural highway which no one used except to leave town. He pulled over and put James into the driver’s seat. He aimed the car so it would drive toward a big tree off the side of the road. He took out a small bottle of rum and poured it on James to give him the smell. Walter poured a little down his throat for good measure. He grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket as well as his lighter. He took a brick he had stolen from work and put it on the gas pedal. Then Walter put the car and drive and watched it go. Success! It hit the tree dead on and made a big crash.

Now for the final part of the scene before Walter ran back to his own truck. Walter put a lit cigarette onto James’ lap as if he had been smoking and it had fallen out during the crash. It would catch him on fire because of the run soaked clothes. Walter hoped his plan would work and that it would look like James was driving home drunk and ran off the road and into a tree dropping his rum and cigarette and catching him on fire. Then Walter ran from the scene and walked casually back to his truck. No one had seen him he hoped.

But how would he explain why he was driving up that country road instead of on his way home. This part he wasn’t as excited about because he had to hurt innocent people. It would come in the form of two notes. The first note was to James’ wife. It read,

“Sorry Eleanor, but I’ve taken a mistress and I want to marry her. So I’m leaving you and heading for a new life in a new state. Don’t bother trying to find us. I’m leaving you the business though. Jimmy can pretty much run the place. See you next lifetime.

-James”

It was a bit rough but Walter had done his best to be kind but also concise. Walter put it in the mailbox hoping she would find it easily. The other note would be taped to the front door of the business James owned.

“I, James Rockwell, leave this business to my wife, Eleanor Rockwell for her to own and operate. I am leaving the state to pursue new opportunities. This business is now under new management. “

Just in case no one believed her Walter wanted to make sure it looked legitimate.

There it was. Walter’s plan had been carried out. He was going to be in the clear because he had no connection to James or his business. James looked like he died in a fiery car crash and he had given reason for James to be on the road and had spurned the only person who would call the police looking for him.

It would have all worked out so well too if only.

[jolangley]

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It has been more than a year, but it seems to be so much longer. I miss you all with all of my heart. Although we didn’t always get along perfectly all the time, I will miss our adventures, our laughter, and our parties. We each had our own quirckyness to us, and together, we made up a class that of course had our downfalls, but for the most part, we were perfect together. Never before have I been able to say that each and every person from a group (especially this size) was like a sibling to me. Colossians 3:12-14 says “Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”

Anna– I remember when I first came to Heritage in eighth grade, I often mixed you and Alexis up. It became quite clear all too soon which name you went with. You’re such a sweet, spunky, and funny, yet you are often mistaken for a quiet girl. “She’s a nice girl, someone I would like to be friends with if I knew how.” ― Rebecca Starford. I always knew from the start that I wanted to be friends with you, but, being the socially awkward bee that I am, I waited until senior year to really get to know you, which was a huge mistake! 😦 I love you very much, Anna Banana. Isaiah 41:10 says “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Bryce– Seeing you and Bryant interact was always one of my favorite things. You two were my favorite bromance (closely followed by Donny and Andre). I love how you were, and continue to be, consistent in the Lord. I see that in your life; keep it up. Carl W. Buechner said “They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.” In times where you don’t know what to say to someone, remember to treat them with love. I’m going to leave you with Psalm 120:1, which says “In my distress I called to the Lord, and he answered me.” #AllGloryToGod

“I have fallen in love with the stories of our lives, our everyday mythologies. How will they unfold? What will become of us?” ― D.J. MacLennan

Caleb– If I were to be asked to describe you in one word, I don’t think I would be able to. Multiple words come to mind when I think of you. Spunk, personality, and humor are just a few of the many. “Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.” Oprah Winfrey. You would defiantly take the bus with any of your friends. Keep that up. “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Donny– “He never, even in the most casual conversation with friends, spoke a sentence which did not sound as if it was ready for the air.”  ― David Halberstam. It’s true. You always seem to say the right thing at the right time with confidence. Whether that be a witty remark or a kind word, you always seemed to know what others wanted or needed to hear. You are quite hilarious with your long, lanky self. I will miss you and your bromance with Andre. Exodus 15:2 says “The LORD is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation; this is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him.” Your voice is amazing. I always loved it when you would randomly burst into song with others.

Bryant– Preeti Shenoy once said “I was thankful for tiny blessings that came in the form of friends.”  I could not agree more. I knew you to be loyal. Your relationship with any of your friends can and will prove that. Keep it up, and never lose sight of God’s plans for you, because with God, you will go so much farther than you could ever have gone without him. Remember what Isaiah 40:29 says: “He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.” Life will have ups and downs, and I have full confidence that you will only look to God for your strength. #AllGloryToGod

“You are engaging in madness. I feel obliged to accompany you.” ― Alejandro Jodorowsky

Samwise– Sam, Sam, Sam. “I know what it’s like not to have friends. People need friends. Life’s not much fun without them.” ― Michelle Harrison. One of four, you are. I will always remember doing backstage with you and Rach. Watching our fourth out on the stage, I remember we would be able to recite lines and songs along with Ryan. 10, 20, and 30+ minute almost silent intervals split by 30 seconds of hectic craziness was always so much fun. I remember sophomore year we were stage crew for Tom Sawyer. At one point, Ryan, who was Injun Joe, had to fall off the dock (which was part of the cave *wink wink*). We had to have the blue mats down and be there for him when he fell. During one of the rehearsals, he fell and we were both sitting there looking at him. After he was done “yelling”, he looked up at us, started laughing and said “…..Ow?” This was all on stage left……….we were stage right, so we had to book it back to stage right. Hopefully you never forget that you have your friends when you go through something hard. 1 Corinthians 10:13 says “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.” God has you in the palm of His hand.

Matt– Ahhh Macbeth. The late night of scurring around, filming, and putting everything together and Biggby the next day was what some might call “fun” (please pick up on the partial sarcasm). Our group was great, though. I remember we showed up at Ryan’s house while he was still at basketball practice. Listening to Brother Bear in your car with Hope was pretty awesome. 😛 Even though that last night was hectic to say the least, I will always look back on that project with fondness. Deuteronomy 31:6 says “Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the LORD your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.” You are an amazing speaker. I hope you know that. Remember that Sunday on the senior trip when Anna and Gavin got lost? Yeah, you spoke that night, and I recorded you. I still have that voice recording. You would be an amazing pastor.

Hopey– “If you’re alone, I’ll be your shadow. If you want to cry, I’ll be your shoulder. If you want a hug, I’ll be your pillow. If you need to be happy, I’ll be your smile… But anytime you need a friend, I’ll just be me.”- Unknown. This quote is so YOU, my dear Hope. It wasn’t really acting for you when you played the Fairy Godmother in Cinderella, which is a good thing. You are witty, smart, and such a sweetie. I love how you are so close with God. I totally see God through your joy-filled life. Remember that God is always with you, my Moriarty. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me;  your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4

“I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien

Kowalski– Your friendship is treasured by all who has possession of it. I love your sense of humor and all of your witty comments. Know that you have a rearview mirror in life for a reason. Remember your time at Heritage and never give up on your friends that you made their. Helen Keller once said “Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.” I hope you remember that when life gets dark. “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13. Let’s continue to make good memories together, huh?

Hannah– “What goes best with a cup of coffee? Another cup.” – Henry Rollins. Often that other cup comes with a friend. I loved hearing about all your coffee trips with Gabi and them. You’re such a sweet girl, and I love you so much. I sorely wish I had gotten to now you better than I had. You always seemed to have your life together. I miss seeing how close you and your friends were. Hopefully you guys stay that close, and even grow closer in the Lord. Psalm 29:11 says “The Lord gives his people strength. The Lord blesses them with peace.” Remember to lean on Him for your strength, Hannah! ♥

Nia– Oh Nia. Where do I start? You and your loud sneezes. 🙂 We always noticed when you were and weren’t in class. English with Mickley was always fun with you around. You knew what you wanted. Others did too. “Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend.” – Albert Camus. We wouldn’t walk in front of you. We wouldn’t dare. 😉 If anything, you were walking in front of us. I love and miss you, Nia Moore. Romans 8:24-25 says “For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” My prayer for you is that you will never forget who you are living your life for.

“Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it’s all over.” – Gloria Naylor

Calvin– “There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate.” ― Linda Grayson. Remember when you brought the spicy chocolate? If you had been at Heritage for senior year, you probably would have gotten Class Clown for mock elections. I remember one time in eighth grade, Mrs. Thompson made a bet with you. If you made it though the whole day without talking, she would have owed you $2. (That much, right?) You made it to lunch. What had started it was that during her class, the rest of us claimed that we were acting up because you started the whole shenanigans, and she wanted to test this theory out. We were right. 🙂 I will leave you with John 16:22, which reads, “So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”

Andre– Henry David Thoreau once said that “the language of friendship is not words but meanings.” From the first time I met you just before senior year started to the times I see you at KVCC, I knew and continue to know that you are quite real. Even if you are just hiding behind something, which I doubt you are, I instantly knew you were made of friendship material. You have a warm, welcoming aura that you give off. Never let that light die, Andre. “Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:1

Riley– I hope you know that we all were there for you during your sickness, and still are. I love how strong you were through it. I heard you are playing baseball for KVCC either now, in the past, or in the spring. I’m glad to hear that you are able to do the sport you love. Shumila Shah said “Coal that bears that pressure meets a diamond.” It has been good to see you come out of everything with God’s strength. I’m sure any one of us would be willing to help if you ever needed anything. “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.“ 2 Corinthians 12:9, 10

“Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.” – Washington Irving

Emmers– I always loved playing soccer with you, dear. It seemed that whenever there was a tough player, you or your sister got put on them. We as a team could always count on you as a teammate. You always seemed so confident in everything you did. Whether or not you felt confident, you didn’t let anything get in your way. “The secret is to believe in your dreams; in your potential that you can be like your star, keep searching, keep believing and don’t lose faith in yourself.” – Neymar. Never give up on what you want to do. “Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6

Shelbs– “Think like a queen. A queen is not afraid to fail. Failure is another steppingstone to greatness.”- Oprah Winfrey. You are a piece of art, my friend. I admire your strong will and loving heart. I remember that in English class with Mickley, you would always get the books like the two of us, which were the books that were falling apart. 😀  “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” John 14:27 Never forget that no matter how strong you are, that you always need other people. That is what the church is for. I’m always here for you, Shelbs.

Rach– I remember a time freshman year in Beck’s class, we had to make a pizza box game. We were partners. You came over to my house to work on it, and I offered you something to drink. You took me up on some tea. Being the lazy butt that I am, I just heated up water in the coffee maker. That was a mistake, especially since you don’t like coffee. Your tea tasted like coffee at least a little. I knew because when you took a sip, you had a disappointed look on your face, and that was the last of the tea drinking for you that night. Our friendship was at the beginning, so you didn’t say anything, but I knew because we are telepathic. ♥ Clifton Fadiman once said this: “One measure of friendship consists not in the number of things friends can discuss, but in the number of things they need no longer mention.” I could go on forever about us, so I will leave you with Psalm 27:1, which says “The LORD is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?”

“There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.” – Diana Cortes

Kat– I always loved your quiet but sassy spirit. You’re a gem worth keeping in a safe, my dear.  “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” Romans 15:13. I never understood how amazing you truly are. Anyone who has had the great pleasure of meeting you is indeed blessed. I have heard many stories of you from Rachel. Keep the Lord with you at all times. “And though she be but little, she is fierce.” – Shakespeare.

Lex– “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” – Marcel Proust. I always knew I could count on you to be there with a smile and a good word. You were a great Annie in Annie Get Your Gun. I remember that, during one of the later showings, you and Micah had an actual ‘dual’ with the “Anything You Can Do” song. For some reason Ms. Moore was not happy and came back stage, I think. James 1:12 says that “blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.”  Let yourself feel all emotions, but never let them consume you so much that they drown the others out. Continue on with your lovely, encouraging, and all around amazing spirit.

Kyle– “Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!” Psalm 126:5. Enjoy the good times and be joyful in the bad. Never let the bad out way the joy that you have in the Lord. Remember that one time I wanted to wear your jersey for Fall Frenzy? Yeah let’s not talk about the shirt thing I tried to make. #shudder “It’s best to have an old friend far away, than a new friend nearby that makes you question your care.” ~Shanna Rodriguez All of the times together makes for great stories, memories, and friends. Don’t you ever give those up, but don’t be afraid to make new friends wherever you go.

“A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.” – Bernard Meltzer

Gav– Just wondering if you could answer a question of mine. I was contemplating how to spell eagles. Could you help me? 🙂  “…and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” Romans 5:5 Don’t forget to draw upon the stories you may wish to forget, for those are often the best stories. They draw new people in and keeps the old friends at least partially because it humanizes you. It gives you a background. A history. A past. Imperfection. “Beautiful memories are like old friends. They may not always be on your mind, but they are forever in your heart.” ~Susan Gale. Never forget your time with us, friend. I surely wish we will all get together at some point. True hope never disappoints.

Gabs– 1 Peter 5:7 says “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” Don’t give up on God because he will never give up on you. His love for you is unconditional and overflowing. Let that love come out in your life, like I know you are capable of and have seen in your life. Continue to love life, friends, and coffee. I have missed you, my friend. someone said that “laughter and craziness will never be forgotten because the people behind these are unforgettable.” Remember to forget the unnecessary parts of life and to remember all that you know to be good and right in the world. Stick by your friends and stick even closer to what you believe in. I love you very much and I wish we made way more memories together than we have.

Rye Bread– You have always been like an older brother to me and Rachel. There was that time freshman year, but we don’t need to be bringing that up. 😉 Whenever you realized Rach or I was down, you would always try to pick us up……sometimes literally.  😛  “A friend knows the song in my heart and sings it to me when my memory fails.”– Donna Roberts. Let’s keep in touch, ok? Romans 12:12 says “Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” Remember that whenever you’re going through a hard time, God will never fail you. You may not like the way he’s going about it, but he knows what he’s doing. Keep up your brotherly spirit, mah friend!

“A strong friendship doesn’t need daily conversation or being together. As long as the relationship lives in the heart, true friends never part.” — Anonymous

Macy– Psalm 73:26 says “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Keep it up, girly. I don’t know how you do it. Your strength in God is so admirable. Even though you have had such a difficult life Macy, your heart is at least 5x as big as mine. John Holmes said that “There is no exercise better for the heart than reaching down and lifting people up.” Only through the strength of Christ, you have lifted up so many more people than you realize. My prayer for you is that you live life to the fullest in Christ. May you keep going strong, Macy!

Kels– Once upon a time, you were the evil step-mother to Cinderella. In an alternate universe, you were a sick friend. This storyline happens to be before Hope moved. A group of us were at Hope’s house, and we decided to pay you a visit to show our love. 😉 We walked over to your house and knocked on the basement window. As I remember it, you were a little startled. “Never leave a friend behind. Friends are all we have to get us through this life–and they are the only things from this world that we could hope to see in the next.”  ― Dean Koontz. You wouldn’t leave anyone behind, my dear. I firmly believe that, and you should continue in that practice, because “there is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” 1 John 4:18

As you continue forward on your path, remember that you have a rearview mirror for a reason. “A final word: Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.” Ephesians 6:10. Do not be afraid to help or be helped. Continue to make memories with your friends from years past, and also strive for new relationships and new memories as well. “The further you go, the more you’re going to need the people you started with.” – Code Black. I love ya’ll with all of my heart. “A strong friendship doesn’t need daily conversation or being together. As long as the relationship lives in the heart, true friends never part.” — Anonymous

To the Class of 2016 Eagles It has been more than a year, but it seems to be so much longer. I miss you all with all of my heart.

[tsunderrorism]

Third Worldist quotes

These are not in any order nor are the quoted necessarily [proto] third worldists. But all these quotes support the TWist position: that white workers in the imperialist countries are a reactionary class. 

"And finally, let us say that we are sick of the canting talk of those who tell us that we must not blame the British people for the crimes of their rulers against Ireland. We do blame them. In so far as they support the system of society which makes it profitable for one nation to connive at the subjection of another nation they are responsible for every crime committed to maintain that subjection. If there is any section of the British people who believe that Ireland would be justified in ending the British Empire if she could, in order to escape from thraldom to it, then that section may hold itself guiltless of any crime against Ireland. But if there is any such section, how small and utterly insignificant it is, since it nowhere gives public proof of its existence."-James Connolly, "The Slackers"

"This liberal intellectual polarity that “race issues” and “class issues” are opposites, are completely separate from each other, and that one or the must be the main thing, is utterly useless! We have to really get it that race issues aren’t the opposite of class issues. That race is always so electrically charged, so filled with mass power, precisely because it’s about raw class. That’s why revolutionaries and demagogues can both potentially tap into so much power using it. Or get burned. You can’t steer yourself in real politics, not in amerikkka and not in this global imperialism, without understanding race. “Class” without race in North America is an abstraction. And vice-versa. Those who do not get this are always just led around by the nose, the manipulated without a clue — and it is true that many don’t want any more from life than this. But wising up on race only means seeing all the class issues that define race and charge it with meaning. Why should it be so hard to understand that capitalism, which practically wants to barcode our assholes, has always found it convenient to color-code its classes?"-J Sakai

"The English proletariat is actually becoming more and more bourgeois, so that this most bourgeois of all nations is apparently aiming ultimately at the possession of a bourgeois aristocracy and a bourgeois proletariat alongside the bourgeoisie. For a nation which exploits the whole world this is of course to a certain extent justifiable.”-Engels to Marx, October 7th 1858

"Fifthly, the exploitation of oppressed nations—which is inseparably connected with annexations—and especially the exploitation of colonies by a handful of “Great” Powers, increasingly transforms the “civilised” world into a parasite on the body of hundreds of millions in the uncivilised nations. The   Roman proletarian lived at the expense of society. Modern society lives at the expense of the modern proletarian. Marx specially stressed this profound observation of Sismondi. Imperialism somewhat changes the situation. A privileged upper stratum of the proletariat in the imperialist countries lives partly at the expense of hundreds of millions in the uncivilised nations...By means of the silly word “fatally” and a certain sleight-of-hand, the fact is evaded that certain groups of   workers have already drifted away to opportunism and to the imperialist bourgeoisie!...Secondly, why does England’s monopoly explain the (temporary) victory of opportunism in England? Because monopoly yields superprofits, i.e., a surplus of profits over and above the capitalist profits that are normal and customary all over the world. The capitalists can devote a part (and not a small one, at that!) of these superprofits to bribe their own workers, to create something like an alliance (recall the celebrated “alliances” described by the Webbs of English trade unions and employers) between the workers of the given nation and their capitalists against the other countries." -Lenin, Imperialism and the Split in Socialism

"Yet the paradox is easily explained: The white workingman has been asked to share the spoil of exploiting 'chinks and niggers.' It is no longer simply the merchant prince, or the aristocratic monopoly, or even the employing class, that is exploiting the world: it is the nation; a new democratic nation composed of united capital and labor. The laborers are not yet getting, to be sure, as large a share as they want or will get, and there are still at the bottom large and restless excluded classes. But the laborer's equity is recognized, and his just share is a matter of time, intelligence, and skillful negotiation."-W.E.B. Dubois, The African Roots Of War

"Taking the entire globe, if North America and Western Europe can be called “the cities of the world”, then Asia, Africa and Latin America constitute “the rural areas of the world”. Since World War II, the proletarian revolutionary movement has for various reasons been temporarily held back in the North American and West European capitalist countries, while the people’s revolutionary movement in Asia, Africa and Latin America has been growing vigorously. In a sense, the contemporary world revolution also presents a picture of the encirclement of cities by the rural areas. In the final analysis, the whole cause of world revolution hinges on the revolutionary struggles of the Asian, African and Latin American peoples who make up the overwhelming majority of the world’s population. The socialist countries should regard it as their internationalist duty to support the people’s revolutionary struggles in Asia, Africa and Latin America."-Lin Biao, "Long Live The Victory Of People's War!"

"Parasitic capitalism provides the material basis for the white nationalism and “racism” of the white working class which enthusiastically upholds and carries out U.S. colonial policy. It is also the material basis for the opportunism of the white left, which has historically sold out and betrayed the African anticolonial struggle repeatedly throughout history the white left, itself a product of the oppressor nation, is equally white nationalist, parasitic and opportunist as the white working class population in general. In many instances it has been more vicious and destructive to the Black Liberation movement than overt white nationalist attacks."-Platform of the INPDUM

[On right wing, anti-government violence in Amerikkka]

"This isn't something that capitalism can change by simply

pushing a button. Any more than they can just order capitalistic

men with AK-47s to stop slaughtering to set up their cherished

tribal nations in Cambodia or Croatia or Liberia. Because capitalism

in its struggle to control the entire world set armies in motion. And

these armies, which take the form of entire nations and races and

genders, are still out on a mission from colonial days. Just as

capitalism created white patriarchal society to be its settler garrison

over North Amerika, and after 400 years this has a historic

momentum and a stubborn life of its own. Clinton or Rockefeller

can't just make a phone call and get 200 millions of white men and

their women to roll over and pull the plug, to stop being parasites.

All over the world armies long set in motion refuse to be recalled."

-Butch Lee and Red Rover, "Night Vision: Illuminating War and Class in the Neocolonial Terrain"

"Any white fortune seeker, no matter what part of the world he came from, could aspire to own and share in the mineral wealth of South Africa; but not an indigenous black. The emergent capitalist class was thus defined as white, and this fact was underwritten by law...One could add to these a third variant, deriving from the history of the United States. For lack of a better term, I shall characterise this as the settler-revolutionary path. In the United States, the white settler commercial farmers of the north, in alliance with the slave-owners of the south, rose against British domination (1776) and established an independent white settler republic. Owing to the peculiarities of this alliance, the new state accommodated itself to a capitalist and pre- capitalist mode of production. After almost a century of uneasy co- existence, the capitalist mode of production (in the north) was compelled to impose a revolution from without and from above on the slave-owning south in the shape of the Civil War ( 1860-65) and abolish slavery. The United States thus became economically unified though a thorough-going bourgeois-democratic reformation was delayed tor another 100 years because of the stubborn resistance of the whites in the former slave state."-Resolution of the African National Congress

"In the colonies the economic infrastructure is also the superstructure. The cause is effect: You are rich because you are white, you are white because you are rich. This is why a Marxist analysis should always be slightly stretched when it comes to addressing the colonial issue. It is not just the concept of the pre-capitalist society, so effectively studied by Marx, which needs to be reexamined here. The serf is essentially different from the Knight, but a reference to divine right is needed to justify this difference in status. In the colonies the foreigner imposed himself using his cannons and machines. Despite the success of his pacification, in spite of his appropriation, the colonist always remains a foreigner. It is not the factories, the estates, or the bank account which primarily characterize the "ruling class." The ruling species is first and foremost the outsider from elsewhere, different from the indigenous population, "the others.""

-Frantz Fanon, Wretched of the Earth

"The colonial agricultural sub-proletariat cannot even count on an alliance with the least-favored Europeans, for everyone lives off them, even the 'small colonizers,' whom the big proprietors exploit, but who are privileged compared to the Algerians, the average income of the Algerian Frenchman being ten times that of the Algerian Muslim."

--Jean-Paul Sartre, introduction to "The Colonizer and the Colonized" by Albert Memmi

"Specifically, the “labour aristocracy” refers to those more well-to-dolayers of the working class, people who no longer have any material incentive to engage in the dangerous, grueling task of carrying out a revolution against capitalism. Lenin had argued that the labour aristocracy was a product of imperialism, as the profits earned from [super-exploitation of] the developing countries were used to pay for the elevated position of certain sections of the working class in the metropole. This concept has been accepted by almost all strains of the Marxist–Leninist tradition, though often accorded little actual importance in practice. To the first wave of the RAF, however, the question of the labour aristocracy had by this point become central. The labour aristocracy was not seen simply as a section of the West German working class, but as the dominant section, almost to the exclusion of any classical proletariat."

-Projectiles for the People: A history of the Red Army Faction

"I was in the East End of London (a working-class quarter) yesterday and attended a meeting of the unemployed. I listened to the wild speeches, which were just a cry for 'bread! bread!' and on my way home I pondered over the scene and I became more than ever convinced of the importance of imperialism....

My cherished idea is a solution for the social problem, i.e., in order to save the 40,000,000 inhabitants of the United Kingdom from a bloody civil war, we colonial statesmen must acquire new lands to settle the surplus population, to provide new markets for the goods produced in the factories and mines. The Empire, as I have always said, is a bread and butter question. If you want to avoid civil war, you must become imperialists."

-Cecil Rhodes (colonizer of Zimbabwe, formerly known as 'Rhodesia')

"But, you will say, we live in the mother country, and we disapprove of her excesses. It is true, you are not settlers, but you are no better. For the pioneers belonged to you; you sent them overseas, and it was you they enriched. You warned them that if they shed too much blood you would disown them, or say you did, in something of the same way as any state maintains abroad a mob of agitators, agents provocateurs and spies whom it disowns when they are caught. You, who are so liberal and so humane, who have such an exaggerated adoration of culture that it verges on affectation, you pretend to forget that you own colonies and that in them men are massacred in your name. Fanon reveals to his comrades above all to some of them who are rather too Westernized — the solidarity of the people of the mother country and of their representatives in the colonies. Have the courage to read this book, for in the first place it will make you ashamed, and shame, as Marx said, is a revolutionary sentiment...

...The Left at home is embarrassed; they know the true situation of the natives, the merciless oppression they are submitted to; they do not condemn their revolt, knowing full well that we have done everything to provoke it. But, all the same, they think to themselves, there are limits; these guerrillas should be bent on showing that they are chivalrous; that would be the best way of showing they are men. Sometimes the Left scolds them ... ‘you’re going too far; we won’t support you any more.’ The natives don’t give a damn about their support; for all the good it does them they might as well stuff it up their backsides....

..You know well enough that we are exploiters. You know too that we have laid hands on first the gold and metals, then the petroleum of the ‘new continents’, and that we have brought them back to the old countries. This was not without excellent results, as witness our palaces, our cathedrals and our great industrial cities; and then when there was the threat of a slump, the colonial markets were there to soften the blow or to divert it. Crammed with riches, Europe accorded the human status de jure to its inhabitants. With us, to be a man is to be an accomplice of colonialism, since all of us without exception have profited by colonial exploitation."

-Jean-Paul Sartre, introduction to The Wretched Of The Earth

"You ask me what the English workers think about colonial policy. Well, exactly the same as they think about politics in general: the same as the bourgeois think. There is no workers’ party here, you see, there are only Conservatives and Liberal-Radicals, and the workers gaily share the feast of England’s monopoly of the world market and the colonies."-Engels to Kautsky, 9/12/1885

"Economically, the difference [between workers of different nations] is that sections of the working class in the oppressor nations receive crumbs from the superprofits the bourgeoisie of these nations obtains by extra exploitation of the workers of the oppressed nations. Besides, economic statistics show that here a larger percentage of the workers become “straw bosses” than is the case in the oppressed nations, a larger percentage rise to the labour aristocracy. That is a fact. To a certain degree the workers of the oppressor nations are partners of their own bourgeoisie in plundering the workers (and the mass of the population) of the oppressed nations." Lenin, A Caricature of Marxism and Imperialist Economism

“The white [amerikan] workers literally demanded their traditional settler right to be petit-bourgeois - “little bourgeois,” petty imitators who would annex their small, individual plots each time the real bourgeoisie annexed another oppressed nation. It should be clear that the backwardness of white labor is not a matter of “racism,” of “mistaken ideas,” of “being tricked by the capitalists” (all idealistic instead of materialist formulations); rather, it is a class question and a national question.

This stratum came into being with its feet on top of the proletariat and its head straining up into the petit-bourgeoisie. It’s startling how narrow and petty its concerns were in an age when the destiny of peoples and nations was being decided, when the settler Empire was trying to take into its hands the power to decree death to whole nations.”

-J Sakai, Settlers: The Mythology Of The White Proletariat

"America and Canada are European settler colonies but they are harder to distinguish than the others. They're harder to distinguish simply because America and Canada come closest to being successful settler colonies. They come closest to being successful settler colonies.

In order to be a successful settler colony, one must commit genocide against the original owners of the land. America did this. America did this. In order to be a successful settler colony, one must commit genocide against the original owners of the land. They did this and then they changed the name, and it sounds as if they belong here.

They wiped out an entire nation to take the land. Changed the name and call themselves Americans. When you call them an American, you obliviate the correct history. They are not Americans. They are European settlers, that's all that they are. If they're not European settlers, they're certainly the sons and daughters of European settlers. They're not Americans. You should not call them Americans. To do that, you misrepresent the red man who owns this land. They are Europeans."

-Stokely Carmicheal

""The income which we derive each year from commissions and services rendered to foreign countries is over £65 million. In addition, we have a steady revenue from foreign investments of close on £300 million a year... That is the explanation of the source from which we are able to defray social services at a level incomparably higher than that of any european country or any country" - Winston Churchill

“In leading capitalist nations, workers tend to become participants in foreign exploitation. The backward peoples are the real exploited and exploitable proletariat of the system.

The working class in a leading nation has sufficient reason to walk arm in arm with its oligarchy against the world. On imperialistic questions, we should ordinarily expect this class to be nationalistic, because a threat to the imperial position of the nation tends to become a threat to its own welfare. The class struggle thus goes on at home for a larger share of the national income. But it is a struggle that tends to stop at the water’s edge where antagonisms with rival imperialists and exploited backward peoples begin. The working people of a leading capitalist nation are likely to rise up in wrath against those of their fellows who disclaim the imperialist actions of the government, regarding them as traitors.” (Oliver C. Cox, "Capitalism as a System", 1964)

The amount of poverty and suffering required for a Rockefeller to emerge, and the amount of depravity entailed in the accumulation of a fortune of such magnitude, are left out of the picture, and it is not always possible for the popular forces to expose this clearly. (A discussion of how the workers in the imperialist countries gradually lose the spirit of working-class internationalism due to a certain degree of complicity in the exploitation of the dependent countries, and how this at the same time weakens the combativity of the masses in the imperialist countries, would be appropriate here, but that is a theme that goes beyond the scope of these notes.)"

- Che Guevara, MAN AND SOCIALISM IN CUBA

"America’s proletariat in general is far behind that of European countries as a factor of the coming social revolution; especially so long as it is led by yellow leaders, like Sam Gompers and Co. In fact American proletarians are opportunistic, as are most of their leaders. It is the least class conscious proletariat in the world in the revolutionary meaning of the word. This is true not only of the trades union movement, but also of the political movement, including the socialist and even the Communist movements. American opportunism is largely due to its historical condition and training. ... This is the very reason why our Communist movement in America has been so slow in spite of so many Russian comrades working for the cause and in spite of so many books on Bolshevism and its activities having been published and spread (especially it has been the fact since the movement became illegal.) The membership fell down, after the big raid of January 1920, to an insignificant quantity. What was left in the Party were mostly foreigners, who have been trained in the underground party work in their own country. The American proletarians are mostly opportunistic in their temperament and thought: they don’t care a cent for the theory of Communism, they are satisfied with high wages and with the rule of Sam Gompers and Co!"

Sen Katayama, Japanese Communist Party co-Founder, 'Japan’s Position in the Coming World Social Revolution', 1922.

“If a revolution succeeds in England, the proletariat will continue oppressing the colonies and pursuing the policy of the existing bourgeois government; for it is interested in the exploitation of these colonies. In order to prevent the oppression of the toiler of the East we must unite the Muslim masses in a communist movement that will be our own and autonomous.”

M. Sultan-Galiev, 9th Conference of the Tatar Obkom, 1923.

"Relations between foreign forced workers and German industrial workers was not much better [than between German settlers and their Polish and Russian farm workers who were effectively their slaves]. This was especially the case where the presence of large numbers of foreign workers enabled Germans to move into supervisory positions and thus enjoy a degree of ocucpational and social mobility which their own modest talents would otherwise have denied them. Even the most incompetent dullard could lord it over the Poles and Russians. Apart from the nation's foremen, and cases of brutality by, for example, miners in the Ruhr towards the Russian sub-class below them, most German workers seem to have been largely indifferent to the fact that they were working alongside an undernourished army which emerged spectrally from freezing camps but was excluded from public air-raid shelters and swimming baths, and which could be strung up [literally] for doing things which the rest of the population took for granted. Informed commentators such as Ulrich Herbert have noted that the principal reason for this response was that Nazi racial policy towards foreign workers interacted with the arrogant self-regard, chauvinism, and racism of some sections of the German working class. This suggests that the Nazis' novel efforts to replace class with racial society found a ready response in significant sections of the population. Judging by studies of how many 'German workers' treat their Turkish colleagues in present-day factories or service industries, these attitudes seem to have survived the Nazi period, which for some workers, marginalised by the 'elbow society' of the Federal Republic and atracted to the extreme Republican party, has become an object of nostalgia as a time of strong and successful government. Working class racism is, of course, not exclusively confined to Germany."- Burleigh and Wippermann, The Racial State

[kayleyfaheyus]

What You Need To Know About Choosing The Right Real Estate Agent!

Whether you are buying a house or selling land, it is one of the biggest things you will ever do in your lifetime. Therefore, you need to hire the right real estate agent. You may ask, “How do I do that?” Here are some things to look for or consider when making that selection.

Trustworthy: First and foremost, you need to feel completely comfortable talking with your real estate agent. Choose someone you can relate to because you will be spending a lot of time with them. Make sure they feel real to you and most importantly, trustworthy. You want someone who is experienced, ignore all the flattery and promises. Finding a trustworthy agent can go a long way in ensuring your property sells at top dollar or that you’re buying at the best price in the market. Don’t go with an agent who promises you the highest price for your property, find one that has a proven track record of success and the skills needed to get you the highest price. Don’t ever be afraid to ask agents for testimonials or referrals from their past clients to make sure they check out.

Expertise: People use the terms REALTOR® and real estate agent interchangeably, but they are not the same. Not every real estate agent is a REALTOR®. REALTORS® are members of the National Association of REALTORS® (NAR) and subscribe to the REALTORS® Code of Ethics. This Code is strictly enforced by local real estate boards. The standards that they uphold and adhere to are much more restrictive and confining to conduct than those state guidelines governing agents who simply hold a real estate license.

Take it a step further and choose a REALTOR® who is a member of the REALTORS® Land Institute (RLI) as they are experienced professionals that specialize in land transactions. If you want the best of the best in the land real estate business then you need to choose an Accredited Land Consultant (ALC). They aren’t just land sales professionals, they are the most prestigious, experienced and highest performing land sales experts in the country. They have a proven track record of success in completing land transactions and are certified to have completed over 104 hours of education courses in conducting land transactions.

Connections: Having a good network of other agents in the industry can help sell a property faster. They can also help provide their clients additional value because they may know an expert in everything from conducting 1031 Tax Deferred Exchanges to conservation easements. If they are not exactly sure about something, they have a national network of land agents they can easily reach out and connect with to help make sure their clients are getting the best value out of their property.

Tech Savvy: Technology advancements in the industry have provided more tools for real estate agents to remain connected while on the go, which is especially important in fast-paced market places. At the same time, these changes have also raised the bar for what it means to be a good agent. It’s no longer about possession of information, but about being able to translate that information into useful insights for buyers and sellers.

Looking back 15 years ago, the real estate market was a different animal, information-wise. It could take hours trying to find old documents and records that were buried in folders. It put buyers in a much different place than they are today. Not only do you get answers to simple questions much faster, but you can also get any document sent to your email without leaving the comforts of your home. With today’s technology, you can access detailed property records right from your smartphone. There is more transparency for consumers, making them feel empowered during a real estate transaction.

Technology enables agents to deliver more value through new and innovative ways to connect and communicate with their clients. Having software, along with apps and tools at their disposal gives them an edge in today’s market. These tools take the “grunt work” off the agent’s plate so they can spend more time building relationships with their clients.

Make sure to also take a close look at how the agent is marketing other properties and ask how they plan to market your property. Are they using a website, social media, and digital ads? Do they have brochures or information packets available? Is there an MLS listing? Drone footage? Property maps? Is there signage clean and up to date? Using the latest technologies to market a property can help decrease days on market and increase the final sale price.

Finding the right agent takes balancing credentials and interaction. You want to choose someone you like. Keep in mind, not all real estate licensees are qualified to assist you in buying or selling land. Their license may make it permissible to practice, but their inexperience in land transactions could be costing you thousands of dollars and potentially getting you or themselves into legal trouble. Do your research, ask for referrals, talk with the agents’ recent clients, and do some interviews before choosing the best agent for your particular real estate needs. Don’t forget to check for license and disciplinary actions with your state’s Real Estate Commission. All agents are not all created equal. If it feels right after doing your research, vetting against the above considerations, and meeting with them, then they just might be the guy or gal for the job!

Looking for a land professional in your area? Use the REALTORS® Land Institute Find A Land Consultant search tool to find an agent in your area that specializes in conducting land transactions.

This post is part of the 2019 Future Leaders Committee content generation initiative. The initiative is directed at further establishing RLI as “The Voice of Land” in the land real estate industry for land professionals and landowners. For more posts like this, click here. 

About the Author: Wendy Forthun, ALC, is an Accredited Land Consultant with 1 Stop Realty Inc in Kasson MN. She specializes in farmland sales, management and 1031 Tax Deferred Exchanges.

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