#in which they talked about all the liberties they took with history when making the show

[archduchessofnowhere]

We can say many things about the latest Sisi adaptations but to be honest I'm glad (most of them) were so open about how inaccurate they were from the very beginning. No one tried to convince us they were super serious biopics.

[syrupsyche]

in honour of our boys appearing yet again for Les Mis Letters, here is a look at their names + my favourite lines from the Chinese translation of Les Mis (by Li Dan and Fang Yu)

Enjolras = 安灼拉 (Ān zhuó lā)

安 meaning peace

灼 meaning burning/bright

“他有天使那么美。” = He was as pretty as an angel

“他在欢乐中也不苟言笑” = He did not smile even when he was happy.

“他是自由女神云石塑像的情人” = He was lady liberty's marble lover.

Combeferre = 公白飞 (Gōng bái fēi)

公 can be found in the word 公平, meaning just

白 meaning white (which makes me think of: "Combeferre was as gentle as Enjolras was severe, through natural whiteness.")

飞 meaning flight

安灼拉近于义，公白飞近于仁。= Enjolras was closer to righteousness, Combeferre was closer to kindness.

如果这两个青年当年登上了历史舞台，也许一个会成为公正无私的人，而另一个则成为慎思明辨的人 = If these two young men had ascended the stage of history, one would have been a fair and just man, and the other a careful and discerning man.

公白飞也许能双膝着 地，两手合十，以待未来天真无邪地到来，希望人们去恶从善的巨大 进化不至于受到任何阻扰。= Combeferre would have gone on his knees, hands clasped, and bring about the innocent arrival of the future, and hoped that nothing would impede the evolution of the people.

Jean Prouvaire/Jehan = 让·勃鲁维尔 (Ràng·bó lǔ wéi'ěr) / 热安 (Rè ān)

shares an 安 with Enjolras, meaning peace

让·勃鲁维尔是个多情种子 = Jean Prouvaire was the affectionate type

他说起话来语调轻缓，俯首低眉，腼腆地微笑着，举动拘束，神气笨拙，无缘无故地脸羞得通红，胆怯。然而，猛不可当 = He spoke in a soft and tender tone, bowed his head and lowered his gaze, smiled shyly, moved reservedly, had a clumsy air, his face would flush red for no reason, and was timid. But his ferocity was undaunted.

Feuilly = 弗以伊 (Fú yǐ yī)

他只有一个念头：拯救世界。他还另外有种愿望：教育自己，他说这也是拯救自己 = He only had one thought: to rescue the world. He also had another wish, to educate himself, which he said was also to rescue himself.

弗以伊是个性情豪放的人。他有远大的抱负。这孤儿让人民为父母 = Feuilly had a bold temperament. He had great ambitions. This orphan took the people in, and became their parent.*

Courfeyrac = 古费拉克 (Gǔ fèi lākè)

克 meaning overcome or subdue

古费拉克确实具有人们称为鬼聪明的那种青春热力。这种热力，和小猫的可爱一样 = Courfeyrac had what one might describe as the cleverness and passion of youth. This passion can also be found in the cuteness of a kitten

不过古费拉克是个诚实的孩子 = However, Courfeyrac was an honest boy.

在多罗米埃身上蕴藏着一个法官，在古费拉克身上蕴藏着一个武士。 = In Tholomyès' body contained a judge; in Courfeyrac's body contained a knight.

安灼拉是首领，公白飞是向导，古费拉克是中心。= Enjolras was the leader, Combeferre was the guide, Courfeyrac was the heart.

Bahorel = 巴阿雷 (Bā ā léi)

雷 meaning thunder

巴阿雷是个善于诙谐而难与相处的人，诚实，爱花钱，挥霍到近于奢侈，多话到近于悬河，横蛮到近于不择手段，是当魔鬼最好的材料 = Bahorel was a humourous man, though difficult to get along with, honest, spendthrift, spending to the point of extravagance, talking to the point of eloquence, bold to the point of brashness and had the perfect makings of a devil.**

他的父母是农民，对父母他是知道反复表示敬意的。= His parents were peasants, and he knew to often treat them with much respect.

关于他们，他常这样说：“这是些农民，不是资产阶级，正因为这样，他们才有点智慧。” = Regarding them, he often said: "These are peasants, not bourgeois; thus they are the wiser."

Lesgle/Bossuet = 赖格尔 (Lài gé ěr) / 博须埃 (Bó xū āi)

博须埃是个遭遇不好的快乐孩子。他的专长是一事无成，相反地对一切都付之一笑。= Bossuet was an unfortunate, but happy child. His specialty was to achieve nothing, and would laugh at everything.

他能很快用到他最后一个苏，却从不会笑到他的最后一声笑。= He could quickly spend his last sou, but he would never smile a last smile.

Joly = 若李 (Ruò lǐ)

他认为人和针一样，可以磁化，于是，他把卧室里的床摆成南北向，使他血液的循环不致受到地球大磁场的干扰 = He believed man and needle were the same - able to be magnetized - and so he had his bed turned facing the north and south to prevent his blood circulation from receiving any interferences from the Earth's magnetic field.

可是在所有这些人中，他是最热闹的一个 = But amongst these men, he was the liveliest of them all.

年轻，乖僻，体弱，兴致高，这一切不相连属的性格汇集在他一人身上，结果使他成了个放荡不羁而又惹人喜爱的人 = Young, eccentric, frail, and cheerful: all these individual characteristics constituted his being, resulting in a peculiar man whom people were fond of.

Grantaire = 格朗泰尔 (Gé lǎng tài ěr)

朗 meaning bright or clear

格朗泰尔是个不让自己轻信什么的人。= Grantaire was a person who did not allow himself to believe in anything.

这个乱七八糟的怀疑者在这一伙信心坚定的人中，向谁靠拢呢？向最坚定的一个 = To whom did this mess of a skeptic lean towards in this group of confident and steadfast men? To the most resolute.

没有谁比瞎子更喜爱阳光。没有谁比矮子更崇拜军鼓手。= No one could love the sunlight more than the blind man. No one could worship the drummer more than the dwarf.

这是种深深的矛盾，因为感情也是一种信念。= This is deeply contradictory, for love*** is also a form of belief.

他经常受到安灼拉的冲撞，严厉的摈斥，被撵以后，仍旧回来，他说，安灼拉“是座多美的云石塑像”！= He was often attacked and harshly rebuked by Enjolras. Still, he would return even after being driven out, and say that Enjolras "could be a beautiful, marble statue!"

—

If anyone is interested in other lines and what they have been translated to, feel free to let me know and I can dig it up for you! And thanks for reading all this way :)

*Other Chinese speakers pls help me verify if this is an accurate translation? Idk why this particular sentence is tripping me up.

**Verification on his translation most welcome too; this REALLY sent me on a doozy.

***感情 can also be translated as feelings, affection, fondness etc. Used as "He has feelings for him."

[silvernmoonlace]

I mean, dresses can be very practical if they're made well but still, I somewhat agree. There's only so much you can do in below-knee dresses with puffy skirts. Women's sportswear in the 19th century did exist, but mostly in the later part of the century (I'm kind of unsure tho), when skirts started getting narrower again.

Also, it's not historically accurate. Tangled takes place just before Frozen, which takes place in ~1843. I assume then that Vat7K takes place in ~1845, and dresses back then did NOT look like Nuru's dress, even after excusing the heavy creative liberties that Tangled the Series usually takes. Nuru's outfit looks like someone took a dress from the 1820s, cropped it, and added sheer fabric and a few 18th century details. The high waistline here would have started dropping lower during the 1830s, and by the '40s it'd be practically at the natural waist.

Additionally, Nuru's dress looks very different from the Kotoans' dresses depicted in TTS S3 Ep7: Beginnings (Koto is commonly considered to be the Air Kingdom in Vat7K). This episode would have taken place very close in timing to Tangled, so around 1840. The Kotoans' dresses look pretty good in terms of historical accuracy and also in terms of differentiating them from other kingdoms. However, they would not have changed that dramatically to the style that Nuru's dress is, in the span of just 4-5 years after which Vat7K takes place.

edit: I often give her an alternate outfit when I draw her. However this is usually still a dress, although less sparkly, because I don't think the Trials are all that physically taxing. I've seen that a lot of ppl hc Nuru as lesbian, so imo it would be cool to see her in menswear too, just to try out that aesthetic.

Lastly, please note that I am in no way an expert and literally just a kid with a special interest on fashion history, so take my words with several grains of salt. I may sound 100% confident here, but the things I say might still be wrong. I would also like to acknowledge that historical accuracy was never the point of Disney shows, but it's fun to analyse them like it was. Thanks for reading through my silly rant/infodump 🌿🐛

(making this a non-reblog post because I want attention; OG post by @foursthemagicknumber)

Image references below so you know what I'm talking about (please read image descriptions).

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore Compilations (+ this blog's tagging/filter list at the end)

A WIP of a pinned post table of contents to tidy up the blog while I empty my fixations onto it plus a lore accuracy disclaimer (so I don't have to keep typing one), because why not. I like tables of content.

-

Disclaimer regarding lore accuracy: If you combine 50 years, 5 editions, 10+ settings, god knows how many novels, and then all the writers who all retcon and contradict each other's work then what you get is a clusterfuck. The lore I show here is compiled from all five editions of the game. You will likely see stuff out there that contradicts some things I say, or stuff I didn't mention/know. That's the lore for you. If you were the Dungeon Master making your own story, your job would be to pick and chose and build your own take on the setting out of it. I, personally, heavily favour older lore. Larian absolutely did this with Baldurs Gate 3 - frankly, I don't think they even know half this lore even exists, and Bioware took some liberties in the original games too. Wizards of the Coast themselves trample D&D into the ground all the time! All D&D is near enough fanfiction built on fanfiction. Therefore, if you find any information useful you may take it, leave it or tweak it to your desire for your own story, because it's D&D lore, and that's how it works.

Disclaimer regarding Larian's canon (and Bioware, and Obsidian): The setting shown in BG3 does not really match up to the setting as presented in sourcebooks (and sometimes novels, previous games, and 'word of god). I'm always talking about the latter and reframing the story and characters within the latter.

Disclaimer regarding asking me for my opinions on how [x] works in canon: I can make an educated guess based on the sourcebooks, but there are many gaps in many places and however educated the guess, unless it comes from a sourcebook, novel, or writer, it's just my own headcanon.

---

TABLE OF CONTENTS [WIP] (I make no promises as to the speed or order at which any of this is produced - and some of these need updating)

Abeir-Toril Why it's called the "Forgotten" Realms

[Some of this is getting revamped at some point] History | Time & Festivals | Lexicon [1] [2] | Languages | Living in Faerûn [1] [?] | Notable Organisations | Magic | | Waterdeep | The Underdark | Geography and Human Cultures

Baldurs Gate: The City #1 | Demographics | Law & Legal System | Aministration & Government | ???

Human Names | Clothes and Fashion | Music | Dating, Sex, Marriage etc [part 1] [part 2] |

Religion How religion works in the Realms, the different pantheons in the world and then individual posts dedicated to the gods as individuals, how and why to worship them and how their churches function

Religion | Priesthoods and Temples | Deities

Death and the Afterlife Dying | Judgement | Afterlives

Deities in BG3 Shar | Selûne | Bhaal | Mystra | Jergal | Bane | Bane #2 | Bane #3 | Myrkul | Lathander | Kelemvor | Tyr | Helm | Ilmater | Mielikki | Oghma | Tempus | Silvanus | Talos | Corellon | Moradin | Yondalla | Garl Glittergold | Eilistraee | Lolth | Laduguer | Gruumsh | Bahamut | Tiamat | Amodeus |

The rest of the Faerûnian Pantheon Gods of Magic & Knowledge | Nature Deities | Cyric | The Elemental Lords | Good Deities | Evil Deities | Neutral Deities |

Arcane Magic

Public Perception | Types of Mages | The Weave | Specialisations | Obscure types of magic | Elven High Magic | ???

Vampires Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy & Powers | Weaknesses & Cures | Psychology

Elves The Complete Book of Elves once said ‘The elves of Toril do not follow the standards of most other worlds,’ which yeah, pretty much. The Player’s Handbook is not necessarily going to be accurate when talking about the Tel’Quessir.

Physiology and Quirks | Names | Clans and Houses | Culture | Subraces (still in progress) | Philosophy and Religion | Half-elves | WIP

Drow Culture | Other Drow Cultures

Planars & Planetouched Tieflings | Githyanki | Bhaalspawn | Devils

Dwarves Overview | Culture | Specific Cultures | Magic | Religion | History

Orcs

Hin - That's "halfling", if you're over 3'4" Overview | Names | Culture | Homelands | Religion

Gnomes Culture | Names | Homelands | History | Religion

---

Tagging system:

Various lore things that don't go in the larger compilations are tagged lore stuff. Things that aren't lore will get tagged babbling.

For sensitive material, such as if I feel like poking at the various delightful topics presented in the game:

I'll use edgelord hours as the generic "reader discretion advised"

The tag villainous nonsense means Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

the family circle is an extra warning for discussing the themes and subtexts such as those present with Bhaal's cult and the Bhaalspawn: including reproductive horror and sexual abuse, including the incest.

If I feel like posting anything I scribbled ("art"), the tag will be the scribbles

When I'm making posts and being negative or complaining about video games and trivial stuff, it will be filed as: griping

Whenever I find or consider something new about the Dead Three and/or want to rant and scream insults at Bane again, my tag is the idiot three

When I babble about my characters, I tag it OCs, and the ocs are also tagged by name. So far I've only mentioned Vel

If I don't want to put my babbling about certain characters into the tags, I'll just put the / in front. /astarion, /orin, /gortash, /durge, etc

When I want to babble about stuff happening in my game as I play it, they're tagged playthrough shenanigans. The original games are bg2 playthrough shenanigans.

When I start talking about my oc's romance with Astarion I'll tag it petty murder boyfriends

[madschiavelique]

Hello! May I request a drabble or headcanons for a poly romance with Astarion x Fem!Reader x Shadowheart? Perhaps taking place post-game or late Act 3? I’d love to see them trying to navigate their new lives together. It can be fluff or hurt/comfort, whatever fits best to you. Thank you! :)

hey there sweet anon !! okay so it wasn’t specified if Astarion was ascended in this or not so i’ll go the route where he is not ascended !

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : astarion x fem!reader x shadowheart

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : some hurt/comfort, mostly fluff (i am so soft for them), fem!reader (although i think it could be read as a gn!reader), no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 1.5k + bonus 400 words (around 1,9k)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

Shadowheart, depending on if her parents are still alive or not by the end of Act 3, would definitely want to visit them more with you and Astarion by her side. Not only because she wants them to meet you both, but definitely because she is frightened.

Frightened ? yes, because she has lost so many of her memories, and she fears that she might never recover them no matter how hard she tries. Yet somehow, you and astarion being by her side reminds her that the best memories are the ones to come, the one she will create with the both of you.

As for Astarion, he has never been much out of Baldur’s Gate during his life, being tied to Cazador and trying to escape wouldn’t have made it possible for him to get his freedom in any case. 

He had tried to escape, failed several attempts, and never managed to let his mind fully take in that he could taste freedom someday. He has probably dreamed about it though, this need for liberty, for a change of scenery, which he got from travelling all this time with you and defeating his master.

So one word would reunite you three on the matter : travelling.

Now that you had the title of heroes of the nation, or actually, heroes for saving the entire world, you had no worries for anything. You couldn’t wait to travel, just the three of you and see all the places you had only seen on maps, but you had to stick with a few activities in Baldur’s Gate.

Posing for hours on end for painters to make sure your heroicness would live through history, inaugurating monuments to your memory, and all sorts of reunions with bards and writers with each and everyone of you reciting your versions of your adventures.

Some receptions took place in Cazador’s now empty manor, Astarion having inherited the place, and some rings that would allow him to be constantly exposed to the sun if he wished. 

You were not accustomed much to big events like these. The last months had been made of exploring in various armours and dirty clothes, fighting and eating whatever you could find or steal along the way. 

And here you now were, all three of you in expensive clothing, a corset tightening your waist till you felt like breathing was the hardest fight of your life, buffet so full you thought the tables would crack under so much food at any moment, a flute of golden champagne in your hand as you had to boringly listen to whatever aristocrat lady was rambling about before you.

“I’m starting to feel like I miss wearing armour,” you huffed as you tried battling with the laces of your corset, struggling to untie them.

The evening was over, you had all retired to your quarters, undressing for the night.

Astarion’s cold hands came to stop your fingers from any more tie wars, taking the reins to undo them.

“I thought that woman would never stop talking, she could make Gale look like a debutant in the art of monologuing.” laughed the vampire, softly unlacing your cage and allowing you to breathe again, placing a soft kiss to the back of your neck as his fingers came to massage your soft skin.

No matter how many times he did that, you always shivered. Your head fell back on his shoulder, sighing with contempt in his embrace. 

“When will we finally be off of here?” 

“Soon enough,” smiled Shadowheart with her hair down, wavy from her braid. “Pity you have to remove that dress though, I could get used to seeing you wearing more of those.”

Her smile was contagious, and you allowed it to place itself on your own lips. She came to help with your hair, removing the assortment of pins, pearls and other ribbons in them, kissing your temple and face from time to time as you giggled.

She was right, soon enough you three had gathered everything proper for a good trip. You didn’t have many belongings, moving from one region to the other during your adventures had taught you to not get too materialistic. 

This hero's-pass was however useful in many aspects. You were given goods for your travel, scrolls, alchemy necessities, and big fancy tents with comfortable futons. But the most interesting and probably useful gift were the three horses and the donkey given to you, the latter given to carry your belongings.

“Tell me this isn’t some sort of bad joke made by Halsin,” asked Astarion as he arched a brow, eyeing the dapple grey stallion that was about to be his new road companion.

“Scared of a different ride than us ?” you chuckled as you lifted yourself on the stirrup and pushed yourself on your mount.

“You’re hilarious,” sighed the rogue, biting the inside of his cheek as he seemed unsure as to the way he was supposed to handle this thing.

“Have you never been on horseback, Astarion ?” Shadowheart ended up asking.

“I think your clarity of judgement must’ve understood by now that during the last couple of centuries, I didn’t have the best scenery to ride those kinds of things.”

After convincing him numerous times that the horse would not stomp on him or do a rodeo as soon as he went on top of it, he finally accepted to get on it.

Thus, your trip began. It had no end in sight, just the beginning of something new with your two loves, and that was all you needed to know.

As you were about to take a path leading you to another region, Astarion stopped, turning towards the silhouette of the city for just a moment before following you and Shadowheart. 

“Is everything alright ?” you asked after a few minutes, Astarion lost in thought.

“Hmm ?” he asked as he raised his eyes to yours. “Oh yes, I’m fine it’s just… Odd.”

“Odd ? What do you mean ?” asked the Shadowheart.

“Well,” Astarion started, “I thought that some sort of magical invisible rope would tie me back again to the city and forsake me to leave. But the further we are from it, the more this feels… normal ?”

“I feel the same way,” she seconded, “my purpose was pulling me to it, and now I don’t feel anything.”

“Exactly, but it doesn’t make me feel empty, more like…”

“Liberated ?” she smiled.

“Yes, liberated...” he hummed as he repeated the word with a satisfaction.

The journey went smoothly, the familiar sensation of resuming the adventure in a certain way taking hold of your heart, but the firmness of your saddle leather reminding you of the discomfort it could cause. 

It took Astarion barely an hour to start complaining, two before he finally decided to get off his mount and walk, and three to convince you to take your first break.

It was a pattern ready to be repeated for all the days to come. There were no itineraries, only discovery.

Passing through new areas meant that a few villagers and other locals would recognise you. You were offered food, asked to touch the heads of new-born babies as if you were saints, and children crowned you with daisy tiaras.

Some of the smells of the food revived in Shadowheart the ghosts of a past that was gradually revealing itself to her. You stayed overnight in villages, and she always listened to the stories told to children before going to sleep, hoping to recognise a character from one of the stories, or the feeling of the petals she pressed tenderly between her fingers, reminding her of such distant fragments of fields coloured by all sorts of flowers. 

You could see it in her eyes, every time the past pressed its fingertips to her temple and squeezed its hands across her throat when her voice broke, that glimmer of hope glistening in her eyes.

You took her hand every time, encouraging her to go back to her memories as far as she possibly could. She looked at you with such tenderness, each time.

Every morning, without missing a beat, Astarion would wake to see the sun rise from its slumber. The feel of it on his skin was an embrace he loved and cherished every single moment.

When the three of you shared the same bed, and he didn't want to wake you up by moving around, he'd just sit there, upright, waiting for the rays to pass through the curtains.

The first joy of the day was a ribbon of sunlight that wrapped itself around your hand and caressed your shoulder, and Astarion traced it with his fingertips without waking you up. He would never dare disturb your peace.

It was after visiting everything there was to see that you finally decided to settle in a pretty, dilapidated stone house that you renovated with your own resources. To this day, you receive your friends when they would be able to afford to come and see you, and you bask in your freedoms.

Bonus content for this : 

Several months into your travels, you had already received Gale's invitation to meet him in Waterdeep, so that he could find out more about your new life and see you all again.

You set off, and soon enough the realisation that you would have to take the boat to shorten the journey seemed to displease your two companions. 

‘Are you sure we can't make some better use of the horses ?’ interrogated Astarion.

‘We have mostly made them walk and trot a bit, we could surely make them galop just a little?’ Shadowheart rejoined.

But they finally gave in when the entire length of the journey by horse was compared to that by boat.

The two of them tried as best they could to stuff themselves with anti-seasickness potions, but as the effects of the latter were short-lived, they remained cloistered in the holds of the boat for the duration of the journey.

Back on dry land, you took the horses that had travelled with you for the last little stretch of the journey. Having finally reached Waterdeep, you asked the first passer-by where Gale Dekarios was staying.

You almost expected someone to look at you with round eyes of incomprehension as to whom you were searching for, but with a broad smile the passer-by gave you a precise indication of where he was staying.

Gale welcomed you with open arms, his new mage robes modest yet exuding nobility. 

‘I wish I could say otherwise but sincerely, the beauty of a cloth doesn't equal the kind of comfortability I had when we were in the middle of the Absolute's schemes. I sometimes grieve for these times, I never thought I would admit to it one day but I have got to say that ending the day with mud and whatever creature's blood we'd encountered on my robes sounds more thrilling than some of the books I now own.’

When Gale started a sentence, it was hard to stop him in his flow of words, and although it may have made you huff and puff at times, you had missed it.

It was while discussing Shadowheart's memory that Gale suggested a spell that he had been trying to master recently, allowing you to reopen memories buried deep in your brain.

During your stay in Waterdeep, Gale helped you to piece together Shadowheart's memory and restore as much of her past as possible.

[cloudcountry]

the pursuit of beauty

Genre/Tropes: Enemies to lovers vibes except they're barely friends at the end? Implied unrequited love (Rook to Reader.)

Summary: Rook thinks you're beautiful! ...And you think he's creepy.

Author's Comments: Wrote this for a friend but also because one of my writing goals for January was "write a trope you don't write for often" and I chose enemies to lovers because I've written for it like twice. I took some liberties for how the brooms work in TWST because I don't think they ever talked about it when I wrote this? It doesn't affect the plot that much, but meh. It's there and it doesn't matter anyway. Uhhhh the ending is rushed because I got bored by the end but I hope ygys enjoy this one anyway because I liked writing it!

~~~~~

“Oh, mon coeur! Isn’t it a lovely-”

“Nope, no it isn’t. Please go away.”

This morning started just like any other, which meant it was going very badly for you.

Rook Hunt, the Vice Housewarden of Pomfiore and the recent thorn in your side. He seemed intent on observing every moment of your day, monitoring what you ate and how much weight you gained and even your sleeping patterns. It was a huge breach of boundaries and he chose to excuse his behavior by saying it was “for the pursuit of beauty.”

Creep.

“How beautiful! Your scorn is as lovely as your smile.” he beamed, trailing behind you as Grim yanked on your pant leg.

No, you refused to walk faster. You did not want to give Rook the satisfaction of running away from him—you knew all too well it would only lead to a chase (like with those poor Savanaclaw students.)

“You should get going, you know. I don’t like having you around and I know you have places to be.” you whipped around and glared at him, “So why are you still here? Go away.”

He chuckled, gazing at you adoringly.

“Is it such a crime to be mesmerized by beauty?” he hummed.

“Yes. Now leave. Go to class.” you rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and walking away.

“Geez what a weirdo!” Grim huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I coulda taken him if he tried anything funny! Don’t worry, hench human, I got him!”

“I know you do, Grim.” you smiled, patting him on the head affectionately, “Now come on! We’ve got to catch up to Ace and Deuce.”

The two boys in question were already waiting outside the classroom for you, a hot beverage and a breakfast sandwich in Deuce’s hands.

“See? I told you, they always sleep in a bit too late on Fridays.” Ace rolled his eyes.

Deuce handed over the snacks as you accepted them gratefully, touched by the gesture.

“Thank you two so much. I really appreciate it.” you beamed, subtly holding the breakfast sandwich out of reach of Grim’s grabby paws.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever. You owe us, though.” Ace waved it off as he headed inside.

“A chocolate croissant sounds good.” Deuce snickered, following Ace inside.

You rolled your eyes, tearing off half of the breakfast sandwich and giving it to Grim.

“Eat quietly and neatly, okay?” you murmured, taking a seat next to Ace.

“Yeah, yeah! I know.” Grim grumbled, ripping into the breakfast sandwich like he hadn’t had four pancakes fifteen minutes before.

Meh, he was cute. You’d let it pass.

The history lesson moved as slow as ever, Trein’s droning voice making Ace almost drift off twice (both times you ended up elbowing him hard in the side, but it was unavoidable! You’d be a bad friend if you didn’t wake him up.) The second time he grumbled something about how he shouldn’t have gotten you that drink, but after you promised him a slice of cherry pie from the cafeteria he shut up.

The cafeteria, unfortunately, had the one person you wanted to avoid.

You could see him staring at you from all the way across the room, without even an apple on the table in front of him. Could he be any more obvious?

You elected to ignore him once again, trying to forget the creepy feeling of being watched as Ace and Deuce snacked on the food you bought them. Grim didn’t seem to notice him either, or maybe the food in front of him was too good for him to care. Either way, you wanted to wrap up this lunch period and get to your next class as soon as possible.

Now, the only problem with that was that your next period was a study hall. Because the brooms used for your classmate’s flight practices flew entirely on one’s own magic and how they controlled it, you were exempt from using them. Crowley had dumped you on Crewel’s schedule, making up some excuse about how you could grade papers with him and contribute to the school (as if you hadn’t saved the school from destruction multiple times from the sheer amount of Overblots that had taken place over the year you’ve been here.) Besides, Grim had magical abilities so he could use the brooms just fine for the both of you.

You know, you hated Crowley a little more than Rook. At least you didn’t have to deal with the Headmage today.

Your lunch officially spoiled by thoughts of the people you hated, you tucked the wrapped items away for later. You knew Grim would probably eat them (as he was already snatching bits and pieces off your plate) but you both needed to be fed somehow. All three of your tablemates looked up at you as you stood, sliding your tray over to Grim.

“I’m going to head to Crewel’s a little earlier than usual. Grim, you can have my extras.” you said, patting the cat monster on the head affectionately.

“Are you sure?” Deuce asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just remembered Crowley and it spoiled my appetite.” you joked, knowing full well that all of them would catch on.

Ace cackled, waving you off with a loud “good luck!” You waved them goodbye, forcing a smile as you stepped into the quiet hallways. It really was so much nicer at NRC when you walked the halls alone. No offense to Grim of course, but it was hard to get alone time when you were constantly being followed around by a strange cat that never quite stopped talking.

The walk to the classroom was as uneventful as it always was. For a moment, you expected the Terror of Rook Hunt to pop out from behind a corner and make some weird comment, but he didn’t.

Weird.

Shaking off the thought, you made it to the classroom without so much as a disturbance. You envied the rest of your classmates for spending time outside and getting to stretch out their legs, but the thought of going through Vargas’s training regiment made the envy vanish immediately. Grading papers wasn’t so bad when you got used to it anyway.

The second the bell rang, you sprang up from your seat and passed the graded papers to Crewel’s waiting arms. He thanked you with a smile, gesturing to the cauldron right in front of his desk. The joy from your hard work was dampened by the knowledge that the teachers still kept an eye on you during magical lessons—especially Crewel—even though you had proven proficient at everything they’d thrown at you so far.

Well, except the magic part. Obviously. That’s why you always had to work with someone else, even if Grim was with you.

You stood by the cauldron and watched as the students from flight lessons filed in, Grim lighting up as he rushed to your side.

“Hench human! Ace almost fell off his broom today!” he cackled.

Ace followed close behind him with a sour look on his face, gently nudging Grim out of the way with his foot.

“Yeah yeah, fur ball. It’s because Kalim ran into me.” he huffed, shaking his head.

“Silence, pups!” Crewel smacked his whip against his hand, and the class went quiet, “Good. Today we will be creating a sleeping potion. I have outlined the ingredients and instructions on the chalkboard. You are welcome to use any of the resources in the classroom to complete your assignment. However, if you fail, you will be responsible for making up the ingredients you used. Do I make myself clear?”

The students all nodded, a mixture of fear and excitement in their expressions.

“Good! Now, for this assignment, I have decided to split up your normal groups. You will not be working with the same people you have been. To get all of your pups more comfortable with each other, you will partner with someone you don’t yap with often!” he announced, eyes flickering to you and your trio of friends.

No way was he pulling this shit right now. Was he serious?

“And I will be choosing said groups!”

Oh great, even better! Now you couldn’t pretend to not know Trey or someone who was friendly enough to you!

“Grim, I want you to partner with Azul. He’ll keep you in line.” Crewel smacked his whip against his hand again.

Grim looked taken aback, but said nothing as he rushed over to Azul.

Yeah, being a cat and being threatened with a whip probably wasn’t a good combination.

“Ramshackle Prefect, you’re with Rook. He is proficient in potion making and can help you along if you find yourself stuck.”

No fucking way.

“Huh?” you piped up, mouth open in shock, “Wait, Rook Hunt?”

“That is what I said, yes.” Crewel replied, stern eyes offering no mercy.

You decided not to test your luck even more than you already had, and began the slow and painful walk to Rook’s desk. He watched you with smug, narrowed eyes as you approached, his gaze like a hunter. He was so creepy. You were never doing this again. Education be damned.

“Don’t say anything.” you grumbled, crossing your arms as you took your place next to him.

Rook shrugged and smirked, keeping his mouth shut. That somehow made you more irritated. You rolled your eyes and turned away, taking note of the ingredients on the board.

Weirdly enough, Rook said nothing during the entire class. He kept staring at you though. You could tell Ace was keeping an eye on you from across the room as he stirred the contents of the cauldron meticulously, lest he risk Sebek yelling at him. The concern made your chest swell with warmth and appreciation for the most irritating of your friends.

The time dragged on for far longer than usual for you. The fact that Rook wasn’t bothering you the whole class period made you more uneasy than it should have, but it made the hour easier to bear. The second the bell rang, you cursed as the potion released a puff of smoke.

Something had gone wrong with the final step.

If the look on Rook’s face was any indication, he didn’t know what had gone wrong either. Crewel approached the two of you with narrowed eyes, inspecting your potion thoroughly.

“You stirred it too hard.” he said, finally meeting your eyes, “You will be required to procure the materials you wasted and create the potion again.”

“Yes sir.” you grumbled, not too thrilled about having to spend more time with Rook.

“Of course.” Rook smiled, and you knew he was enjoying this.

When classes let out for the day, you dragged your feet to the botanical gardens. Your friends weren’t even laughing at your misfortune as they promised to wait for you at Ramshackle. They didn't listen to your reminder that they had a curfew, and that Riddle would surely have their heads if they broke it.

Oh well. Nothing you could do about your idiots.

Rook was already waiting in front of the botanical gardens by the time you got there. You made sure to match his smug smirk with an angry glare, entering the greenhouse without saying a single word.

“Come on, mon coeur! You hurt me so!” he cried out, dramatically throwing his arms open, “How are we supposed to work together if you won’t even talk to me?”

“I cannot tell you that I hate you enough.” you hissed, walking faster into the greenhouse, “Your mere presence makes me so uncomfortable and I hate how often you follow me around. You have no respect for boundaries and every time I see you I want to punch you. Anything to get you to leave me alone!”

“My pursuit of beauty has left you uncomfortable?” he questioned, tilting his head, “I wasn’t aware you harbored such disdain for me.”

“Are you serious?!” you gritted your teeth, shaking with rage, “You never leave me alone! I always tell you to go away and yet you think I enjoy having you around?”

“I simply thought you were an angry person.” he shrugged, seemingly unaffected by your outburst, “That is, until I saw how you acted around your friends. You were always so kind to them, so casual…I wanted that with you. I want to see every side of you.”

“You’re…you’re unbelievable. I can’t understand how Vil deals with you.” you shook your head.

“You should be flattered! It’s rare that someone catches my interest.” he offered, shaking his head from side to side.

“Well, I’m not. So stop it.” you stormed off, intent on finding the plants you needed as quickly as possible so you could leave. You’d need to talk to Crewel about this so you’d never have to partner up with Rook again. You’d never allow yourself to be in this position ever again.

Going through the mental list of plants, you tried your best to ignore the possibility that Rook was lurking around every corner. No matter how often he talked to you, you could never understand him or anything he did.

Snatching up the first plant on your list, you winced as its thorn pricked your palm. The pain only made you angrier as you ripped out the thorn and continued on your way. The rage bubbling inside you served to make you more productive, and before you knew it you had gathered all of the plants.

Now you were angry that Rook hadn’t done any of the work.

You sighed as you started your walk back to the front of the botanical gardens, slowly speeding up when you saw no sign of Rook. You needed to get out of here before you ran into him again and he ruined your afternoon even further.

“You’re done gathering, mon coeur?” Rook asked, popping out from behind a bush.

Speak of the devil.

“Yeah.” you refused to meet his eyes as he stalked closer, a bundle of plants in his arms.

“It seemed we gathered double what we needed!” he chuckled, following you out the door.

“Sure. Now get away from me.” you shuffled away from him, taking your phone out of your back pocket to text Ace and Deuce that you were on your way back.

Surprisingly, Rook didn’t push it. You paid him no mind as you walked back to the classroom, trying to move through the halls as fast as you could without running.

Rook tilted his head as you went, examining every move you made. You really were fascinating to him. He yearned to know more about you, but that knowledge was out of his reach. Perhaps he should listen to what you told him earlier if he truly wanted to see every side of you. Perhaps he had to give you space for a while, and form a new space for himself in your life.

Rook Hunt was nothing if not adaptable.

🏹

The next morning, there was no Rook at your front door. You were immediately suspicious as to where he was, but a quick sweep of Ramshackle’s front lawn confirmed that he was nowhere near you. Brow furrowed, you slowly left with Grim, meeting Ace and Deuce on your way to first period.

Rook didn’t show up once until alchemy, where he made no weird comments about beauty. You made sure to stir the potion slowly and carefully, hoping another greenhouse trip was not in your future.

When Crewel gave the nod of approval, you nearly jumped for joy.

“Good job, Prefect.” Rook smiled as the two of you washed the beakers you’d used.

You shot him a weird look and said nothing.

Rook didn’t show up at your dorm the next day either, or the next. He started making small talk with you at alchemy, questions that were not at all invasive or weird. You asked him what had gotten into him multiple times, but he always just laughed. While you had no idea where the sudden change had come from, you definitely preferred this side of Rook Hunt to who he was before.

You weren’t stupid, though. You knew he was only acting like this to take you off guard.

One day, you opened the front door to a white rose on your doorstep. By then, you’d gotten relatively used to having Rook not show up and bother you. It’s not that you were beginning to like him or anything, far from it. You just didn’t hate him as much anymore.

The white rose was kept in a glass of water on your nightstand.

“Your calmer side is just as beautiful as your angry side.” he said one day, watching as you cut up an herb for the poison you were creating.

Instead of telling him to go away, you stuck your tongue out at him and ignored him.

That was progress.

To observe your beauty properly, Rook bided his time before making more friendly advances on you. He invited you to the Pomfiore dorm for a self care night. You asked if Vil and Epel would be there, and he said the entire dorm would be attending. The fact that you still didn’t like the idea of hanging out alone with him was discouraging, but he was persistent.

You spent most of the night talking with Vil and Epel, laughing and smiling as Epel struggled to open the container the face mask came in. Rook watched you like always, taking notice of how relaxed you seemed and comparing it to how you looked around him.

He determined that he was getting close to having you comfortable with him.

“Rook!” you called out, waving your arms in the air, “Are you just going to stare or are you going to come over here too? You look like a creep!”

“Prefect! Don’t yell!” Vil scolded, fussing over your mask like a mother would.

“Rook!” Epel screamed at the top of his lungs, for no particular reason other than wanting to yell.

“Epel!” Vil shushed him, shooting him a glare.

Rook laughed, getting up from his seat on the nearby couch and walking over to the three of you.

He’d get you to warm up to him sooner or later.

All for the pursuit of beauty.

[ghooostbaby]

i've always really enjoyed movies, tv, and novels of the vikings and one thing that seems to run through all of them is this idea of valhalla (valhol?) as where the “good Vikings” go, who die holding a sword showing honour and bravery in battle, and the rest go to Hel. this seems to cement the perception of a viking worldview that values a good healthy committment to violence and brutality. in contrast to Christianity, where this is opposite – the meek go to heaven and the ones driven by desire and violence go to hell. It feels like the Vikings are both glorified and demonized. they lived during a hard time and a hard place, so a social ethic that values the will to fight makes sense. But it’s good thing now we can be civilized and reasonable. but since watching vinland saga I’ve been looking a bit more into the easily available research of the actual history/mythology of old norse culture, and the first thing i found was that the underworld for them wasn't this binary that seems to have come from mapping Christianity over old norse beliefs. they didn't have a concept of valhalla as 'viking heaven' where you go if you die valiantly, and if you don't you're doomed to a different, more pitiful afterlife, hel. there were actually many afterlifes in norse belief, different gods had their own halls where they would host the dead. depending on how you died might determine where you went, there was a hall for people who died at sea, or from sickness, or in battle. what I found really interesting was that the goddess hel, who rules over the afterlife also named hel where the supposed unvaliant are consigned to … in the stories i read about her she seemed to have a deep respect and compassion for the dead. she is one of loki's children, who all have monstrous forms of some kind, and half her face/body is like dead flesh, and the other half is living. in the neil gaiman norse myths adaptation she talks about feeling more at home with dead with the living, which i'm not entirely sure if he took some poetic liberties with but it seems in line with what historians describing her as written in the records of the myths say on youtube xP it doesn't seem like this is at all like the christian hell where people who didn't live well are punished for it in the afterlife, or that anyone was punished in the afterlife. it does seem like there are certain dead who live so well they are given special treatment or brought to specific places, but i've come across nothing so far that suggests anyone is damned like in christian belief. I think this is one way a lot of viking stories depicts the vikings as monstrous and repulsive – that suggests morality is backwards in norse culture, or the inverse of the christian one. The valued people are the most bloodthirsty, and the disgraced ones are the weak, when in christianity the valued are the kind peacekeepers, and the disgraced ones are violent, selfish, etc (in theory). I think stories like the Last Kingdom kind of glorify Vikings, and stories like vinland saga criticize it, but they're each modern projections onto old norse culture to tell a story about modernity that doesn't seem to have to do with what is known about vikings. And personally the actual old norse perception of death and the afterlife that isn't so binaried is so much more interesting to me for the alternative possible ways of seeing the world it imagines than the focus on christianity. And I especially have a bone to pick with Vinland Saga for what it seems to present as the supposed moral option in contrast to the viking way of life.

One thing I always loved about viking culture in all these stories was the way that they lived their lives with a foregrounded consciousness of death. In all these adaptations the viking characters think forward to their death and plan to make sure they go to their death as impressively as possible, with almost an eagerness. Death is a part of their lives and they are not afraid of it but kind of attend to it all their lives as an important act they need to prepare for. They don't seem to fear it or want to avoid it, at least when it is inevitable, I'm sure they're not trying to die sooner than they have to, but they all know they will die and think of how they want to die to make a good show for the gods and please them with their courage. Christians are also concerned with their death but in a different way, where death is the beginning of your possible eternal torment or eternal peace and reprieve from the torment of life (based on my Christian childhood). Humility and submission seems like the dominant approaches in Christianity, and they seem essentially afraid of the world and themselves, hoping they don’t do anything sinful as they wait to die so they can be rewarded in heaven and escape hell. There’s this disassociation from the world they are living in, as they wait, straining toward heaven. Their bodies are the source of sin and it’s like they’re afraid of their own flesh. While for the Vikings through their bodies and their active violence they have power and agency over their experience on the earth and are able to earn a valued place in the afterlife

There’s the part in Vinland Saga I was puzzling over for a long time. The Christian prince Canute of a viking, mostly-pagan but gradually converting to christianity country at this point in the story was travelling kidnapped by a rival viking army. Canute has spent most of his time praying and avoiding warriors but after a sudden series of events declares that he renounces God, and that he will dedicate himself to creating a paradise on Earth. The Vikings and the prince's priest for a few episodes before this had been having a back and forth about Christianity and love. The priest had told the Vikings at one point that what he sought in Christianity that he couldn’t find anywhere else was “love itself”, and the conversations develops from the warriors trying to figure out what he means by “love itself”, love of battle, love of ale and meat, love of a woman, love of your brothers? The priest said that the feeling for all of those things is not real love. A few episodes forward, when the prince is grieving losing someone, the priest told him that even that love he had had with that person was not love. Canute asks him what is love then, and the priest points toward a dead body lying on the ground and says that is love, and cryptically that "death is the completion of a human being". When Canute says that he will make a paradise on earth he makes a speech as he looks at the beauty of the winter landscape around them and mourns the incongruity of all the dead bodies around them, and says something about the cruelty that the beauty of the natural world doesn’t exist in the souls of human beings and that if god won’t allow human beings to have paradise on earth, he will turn away from god and build paradise on earth himself. I think he’s mourning the disconnection of human beings from the cycles of earth, nature, and the seasons in the world they live in but can't really be a part of, that they seem to be disconnected from the beautiful winter landscape while the land and plants and animals around them have their own processes in rhythm with the seasons and the earth. but human beings are constantly killing each other to try and get the resources they need to survive. If god created the world how can human beings be so out of sync with it? And I think that is what the priest is seeing – death is a natural part of this cycle that humans avoid but that essentially is what winter is that the rest of nature gives itself to. the dead body decaying into the earth, becoming a part of the cycle of creation and death, part of nature, a part of a process that they are meant to be in as a part of the natural world, is what we are meant for, is what is sacred.

The main idea of the series is that Thorfinn, the main character of vinland saga, a viking warrior who saw his father murdered by a group of vikings he swore revenge on and spent his entire childhood doing nothing but fighting and killing in order to get that, supposedly learns to heal from a life spent pursuing a dead end revenge, violence on top of more violence, when he is forced into a life of farming where he learns to be at peace while working with the land … but the first thing he does for that is spending a whole lot of time ripping up trees from the earth. To me it was just as violent, and just as much a disassociation of human being from the land they live in to forcibly extract resources out of it, dominating it to survive a little longer. The fandom for vinland saga seems to enthusiastically accept this as proof of turning away from revenge and learning to farm as wholesome and healing, but how does it not hurt to watch them rip the trees out of the earth after everything the characters have said about their disconnection from the nature? I honestly couldn't believe what i was watching after all these philosophical epiphanies they were having on the battlefield... it was absurd. "ah yes, i can begin my life of peace and healing, just after I kill an entire forest..." (not to say thorfinn is saying this, and i know his context for doing that is he was forced to follow orders, but the story and the fans definitely seem to position his farming era and nothing but pure goodness and healing, as this act of ripping the trees out as a non-issue..)

Having read a bit about norse culture there’s a LOT of stuff about how they deforested the lands they colonised and a lot of this happened after they were converted to Christianity as well. And this was generally the M.O. of Europeans colonising the world as well and has then permeated to North American culture which was than applied to North American imperialism and globalization and capitalism... Vinland Saga's moral attitude doesn’t feel entirely Christian exactly but if Thorfinn’s journey into Christian-adjacent territory and extractive relationship to land through the kind of farming is his redemption … I just don’t accept that. This type of farming just seems like a different way of expressing the same extractive, violent worldview. (I just read something about how feudal farming, with a land owners and tons of peasants/slaves constantly farming on it is really bad for the soil and causes a lot of environmental damage, btw.)

In pre-christian norse culture I'm learning about ... there seems to be a bit more of a reciprocal relationship to the land? Cultural practices I've read about seems to suggest more of a give and take with the land than seem to be suggested in this anime at least? Of course the norse themselves at varying stages of Christian conversion seemed to go toward completely extractive approach to the land. And there is only records of their life from the time the society was converted to Christianity and writing about the pagan past for fellow Christians so its impossible to say for sure if this is just romanticizing and a longing for a time Western culture wasn't so disassociated from their environment and reality itself... But agh. It makes me sad and I don't think we can just stamp "YAY FARMING!" and consider it all to be fine now.

[ronaldofandom]

Drunken Truth or Dare

Ok people. This is the craziest, whackiest, most insane drabble I have ever written.

Plot: Ram, Bheem, Sita and Jenny go on a double date. Get drunk. And play truth or dare. The women get nuts and the men get scandalized.

No warnings. This is sheer whackiness with some fluff.

...........................................................................

Jenny and Sita had spent only two months together. But in that short time, they had forged a deep, unbreakable bond, almost akin to Ram and Bheem.

They had so many layers of shared memories and stories by now; it felt like they had known each other since forever. Each was that friend to the other, who is always there just when you need them. Who has this weird telepathy with you and can just tell when something is off with you. Who knows you and understands you like no one does.

This friendship had meant a lot to Sita. But it meant infinitely more to Jenny. She spoke to Sita about some things that she didn’t even share with Bheem, not yet. Sita was her mentor, her guide, and her support system in this new world. Jenny learned from Sita’s silent wisdom every day.

The woman was also crazy when she wanted to be. Very few people knew that side of her. Maybe since her circumstances never really allowed her to let loose. But with Jenny, Sita took the liberty to discuss anything under the sun.

The two women were sitting by the lake, chattering away. While the two men were indulged in a passionate, animated debate about some plan of action a short distance away. The women knew it was normal for them. That they would kiss and make up soon after the argument. So they ignored them and got back to their discussion, which was far more interesting than the men anyway.

Sita had that half smile on. Jenny knew she was about to ask a scandalous question.

‘Sooo, who was the first person you had a crush on? The first person you wanted to kiss? And don’t say Bheem; that’s such a boring answer.’

Jenny narrowed her eyes at Sita.

‘What if the answer ACTUALLY is Bheem?’

‘But it’s not, right? I can feel it’s not. C’monn, tell me no.’

Sita wiggled her eyes at Jenny, making the younger woman smile. Jenny caved, and started to tell the story.

‘Well, he was a professor at Eton who used to home-school me on subjects I was curious about, which were not covered in my school. World history, economics, oceanography etc. I heard my cousins talk about these things all the time and I wanted to learn too. So my folks caved and let me have this home tutor. And boy, he was something.’

She giggled and looked down. Sita clapped her hands in delight, waiting for Jenny to continue.

‘He used to come every day at 6, and our session went for an hour. But I always had so many questions, so it went on for a bit more. I loved his intellect, his gentle eyes, his non-patronising attitude, and his genuine willingness to help a 15 year old girl learn. And…well, he had a great physique too. Like really amazing.’

‘Ofcourse he did.’

The women giggled together.

‘So, did you ever tell him?’

‘Are you crazy? He was a friend of my eldest cousin. The scandal would have been drastic. And I wasn’t in love or anything. I just wanted to spend time with him because I guess he was the first true gentleman I had met. So different from everyone else I knew at the time. He was the reason I started to travel more, to learn. And that’s how I also came to India by the way.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Now, your turn. And if you say Ram, I will hit you.’

Sita laughed and covered her face with her hands.

‘My answer is silly. You will laugh at me.’

‘I promise I wont. Tell me, please?’

‘Uhh ok. Well, my first crush was not a person. It was a god.’

Jenny was about to gasp, but she recovered quickly, nudging Sita to continue.

‘You see, we have a god called Krishna. We all have heard his stories while growing up. Particularly his tales from when he was a child / teenager. He appealed me to in a way I can’t describe. He was everything I could dream of.’

Jenny was tuned in by now. Krishna had captured her attention.

‘His earth-shattering cuteness as a baby made me want to have him as my child. To care for him. To take pride in him being my kid. He was that kid who was the apple of everyone’s eye. Everyone wanted a piece of him.’

For some reason, Jenny immediately thought of Bheem. And wondered what his childhood had been like. Somehow, she felt Bheem would have been that kid too. Everyone would have wanted a piece of him.

‘He was a very naughty child, he troubled his mother so much. But he loved her a lot, the most. I wish I have that one day.’

For the first time, Jenny wondered what it would be like to have Bheem’s kid. His mini-me. How could having a little version of him around be daunting? What was she so afraid of? She hadn’t been there for Bheem’s childhood but maybe she could experience that with his kid. To see him be a baby again with his child would be priceless. Shocked by how real and imminent that emotion felt, she tried to put that on a back burner and focus on Sita’s story again.

‘He was a cute little thief. Thief of hearts mostly, but also butter. He loved it so so much that he used to steal it from other women in the village. Funny thing is, if he had asked, they would have given it to him anyway. But he loved playing with them and teasing them. Secretly, they loved it too.’

Jenny closed her eyes and tried to visualise this menace of a child. All she could see was round perky cheeks and curly hair. And the kid could run like the wind.

‘And, when he grew up, he became the centre of attention again. Of all the young women. Everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him. Gosh, they would have done anything to be with him. To be his chosen one. He was sweet, kind, mischievous, gorgeous, loving, caring and strong. All in one. There are many stories of him protecting the people. He was their saviour, their healer, their pride. He was divine, yet so real.’

Jenny rolled her eyes. This was a story she had heard from Sita and Loki too many times. Of how everyone wanted a piece of Bheem now as well, but in a different way.

‘But, he had his heart set on one. While there were many gopis, there was only one Radha for him. She was his one true love, his whole heart.’

Jenny had no control on her reactions anymore. Her eyes were moist and her heart was racing. This was too real, way too real.

‘Did they end up together, then? Did Krishna marry his Radha?’

Sita came out of her trance and looked up at this question.

‘Actually, they didn’t.’

Jenny’s heart broke for Radha.

‘Why?’

Sita pondered over it for a few seconds.

‘I think Krishna had to go away. At least that’s what I remember. But I will ask the village elders, they would know better. Somehow I can’t remember the full story.’

When Jenny just nodded and didn’t look up, Sita linked her arm with hers.

‘Even though they didn’t end up together, what they had was eternal love. Even today, their names are always taken together. There is no Krishna without Radha, and vice versa. They were soulmates, and somewhere in heaven, they must have found each other.’

Jenny looked up at her friend. Once again, without her saying anything, Sita had understood the turmoils of her heart. Gosh, she was really a godsend.

Sita attempted to change the mood, and chimed in.

‘So, how long did it take for you to imagine your Bheem, when I spoke of Krishna? Not long I am guessing.’

Jenny just smiled. It seemed like a rhetorical question.

‘Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a woman madly in love.’

‘Yeah? As if you are any different.’

Jenny elbowed her. Sita elbowed back, laughing at their antics.

Both knew how deeply they felt for the two men. Their relationship dynamics were very different, yet the depth of the bond was similar.

This is how Ram found them - giggling and play jostling with each other. After the heated debate he had just had with Bheem over their next mission, he was in no mood for such perkiness.

‘The cabin is ready. Bheem is putting the final touches. We can go now.’

He said curtly, making the women look up at him.

Sita stood up first, half-annoyed with his tone, and ended up stomping on Jenny’s toe.

Jenny cried out in pain and Sita cried out in guilt. She bent down to check the gash her heel had made on Jenny’s toe. It wasn’t too deep but it needed immediate tending to. She just hoped it didn’t need any stitches. Sita needed her medical kit, which was in her bag in the hunting cabin. She always carried her kit with her, it had become a habit now.

Ram was still processing the scene in front of him and wondering what to do. It was all too sudden. But Sita swung into action immediately.

‘Ram, we need to get her to the cabin. Quickly. Carry her and follow me.’

Both Ram and Jenny recoiled in horror at that statement.

Ram dragged Sita aside and started speaking in native tongue.

‘Are you out of your mind? I can’t carry her.’

‘Why the hell not? This is an emergency. We need to get her to the cabin. NOW.’

‘Sita, she is……why do I need to spell it out? Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Are you really that small minded, Ram? You seriously think Bheem would have a problem with this? That he won’t understand the situation? What’s wrong with you?’

‘What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with YOU? Even if I forget Bheem for a second, which I can’t, don’t you think she would have a problem with this?’

‘Well, both of you need to suck it up. If the situation was reversed, don’t you think Bheem would help me?’

‘It’s different. You don’t hate his guts. And he thinks of you as his sister.’

‘Why? What do YOU think of her, then?’

‘THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT.’

Jenny was hearing the argument from the sidelines and understood enough that it was about her. She stood up with some effort and tried to put pressure on her toe. It wasn’t that bad.

‘Sita, look, I can walk. It’s not bad. I promise. Let’s go to the cabin.’

Sita looked between the two stubborn people, huffed in annoyance and agreed reluctantly.

‘FINE. But for the record, I am very displeased about this.’

‘Heyyy, I am the one who is hurt. Now come and help me.’

Sita stood next to her, wrapping her arm around Jenny’s waist. Jenny leaned on her, and held on to Ram’s arm on the other side.

The cabin wasn’t too far and they reached in a short while.

Bheem was fixing the outer boundary of the hut when he saw them. But something was off, they were walking weirdly. That’s when he realised Jenny was limping, and galloped in their direction. Reaching them in a few seconds.

He scooped her up in his arms immediately, and paced towards the cabin. Sita gave him a download of what happened.

Both the healers tended to Jenny’s injury. Thankfully, it didn’t need stitches.

‘But why did you walk?’

Sita looked at Ram pointedly, in an ‘I told you’ look, but stopped short of ratting him out.

‘Because it wasn’t too bad. Look, it’s healing already. Stop worrying, please.’

Bheem was neither pleased nor convinced, but this wasn’t the time to pick that up. So he let it go.

The group had their lunch then. Today was one of the rare days when they all had the afternoon free. Jenny and Sita had completed all their chores and classes for the day. And the men had only returned last night from a long mission, so there was no training today.

The mood improved markedly with lunch. Jenny had made the dessert with a lot of love. She had recently learned it and it was one of Bheem’s favourite too. Sita’s fish curry was legendary as well.

In the middle of the chatter, Bheem kept re-applying the ointment on Jenny’s wound every 15 mins, earning her a teasing smile from Sita.

It was a happy day. Sita was feeling particularly joyful today. And playful. It had been a long time since things seemed somewhat decent and stable. She didn’t know how many such days were there in her kitty. So she wanted to live today to the fullest. She wanted to let go and for once in her life, she wanted to have fun. They were away from others, up at the hunting cabin. It was the perfect time.

‘I have an idea.’

She said chirpily, with a twinkle in her eyes. Jenny knew she was up to no good.

‘You know what will make this afternoon memorable? Some bhaang.’

Bheem choked on air and Ram choked on water.

‘Yes, you heard me right. I said bhaang. Guess what, I have had bhaang too. More than once.’

Ram looked at her like she had grown horns. Who was this woman and what had she done to his fiance?

His reaction made Sita more adamant.

‘Why the surprise, Ram? Because I chose to not be sullen all the time? Or because only men should drink, not women? What is it?’

Ram had no such patriarchal notions. Neither did Bheem. They were just genuinely surprised by all this coming their way from Sita.

‘Umm, I am not sure we have the ingredients.’

Bheem pitched in, when Ram was still struggling to form words.

‘Oh I am sure I saw some bhaang trees on the way, not far from here. Ram, would you be a dear and get some for us?’

‘It would also help with the pain, I guess.’

Jenny chose that moment to double down, looking at Bheem lovingly, while holding on to his arm.

Sita smiled proudly at her friend. Well played.

Ram and Bheem looked at each other. They had never seen either woman drunk. Heck, they had never seen each other drunk. This was all a new unchartered territory for them.

But they both felt that there was no getting out of it. Sita knew that the decision had been made, and she was going to get her wish.

‘Bring enough for a few turns. Don’t be miserly.’

She instructed Ram, who nodded in response and went away quietly.

‘Are you sure you want to have it? It’s quite strong.’

Bheem whispered to Jenny, while Sita was merrily preparing the rest of the ingredients.

‘I could try. I haven’t had much hard alcohol before but I have had fair bit of champagne. It was quite nice.’

She smiled at him with excitement, still holding on to his arm, and Bheem didn’t have the heart to say anything else. So he shoved his concern aside.

Ram returned a few minutes later, carrying a ton of bhaang leaves, as instructed.

As Sita started to pour them into the mixture, Ram began to instruct her on the quantity. But she shushed him.

‘I know.’

She said decisively, leaving Ram guessing how many times she had made it before.

‘Ta-daa.’

Sita put down the glasses in front of everyone, beaming with joy. Bheem looked at her and smiled. She had never been this open, this cheerful before. He wished she had more moments like this. She definitely deserved it, for the wonderful kind heart that she had.

Bheem decided to join in the cheerfulness, but Ram was still wary.

All three of them took the first sip and sighed happily.

Jenny looked at their reactions, and decided to take her first sip as well, with Bheem side-eyeing her throughout. She gagged, but the taste became better after a few seconds. So she took another sip. And another. Bheem constantly requested her to pace herself, but she paid no heed to him.

When she climbed into his lap after downing two full glasses quickly, that’s when he cut her off. She protested loudly, but Sita sided with Bheem. That traitor. Jenny swore to her that she would remember this, but Sita laughed in her face. That was annoying. But she was too happy to care. This liquid joy was addictive, and Bheem’s lap was too comfortable. She snuggled happily and tuned out the world for a few minutes.

Sita was nowhere close to done yet. She put another glass in front of the rest. Bheem refused politely, pointing towards Jenny who was mumbling gibberish in his lap.

Ram liked this feeling. Of zoning out. Of not constantly thinking. He wasn’t there yet but he was on the way. So he took the glass readily and then another one. They were four glasses down now.

Bheem was very amused by their antics. Ram was still mostly under control, mostly, but he had a loopy smile plastered on his face.

Sita was laying flat on her back and laughing maniacally, while breaking into a strange floor dance every once in a while. Ram cheered her on.

That’s when Jenny decided to wake up. She was still heavily drunk but her senses had absorbed the worst of it. Bheem slowly placed her outside of his lap, next to him. She didn’t protest and moved willingly. Just when he thought they were close to winding down, Jenny clapped her hands.

‘Alright everyone, let’s play a game.’

‘Yessssss. Letsssssssss.’

Sita rose up from the floor, swaying heavily on both sides.

‘So it’s called truth and dare. We can get a turn where we have to pick either truth or dare. And the person has to do what others ask.’

‘That’s such a profound game. I love it. Let’s do it.’

Sita backed her friend.

Bheem continued to be amused.

Ram was nervous - he didn’t like the sound of this game at all. But he didn’t protest. Not loudly at-least.

‘Wonderful. I can start to set the pace. Truth. Now you can ask me anything.’

Jenny giggled while rubbing her hands. Bheem loved this look on her, and smiled from ear to ear. The bhaang had done nothing to him yet but the giddiness of the environment was infectious.

‘Oooooh let’s see. Why don’t you tell me something juicy from your time in Delhi? Maybe something about the three of you?’

Jenny thought for a few moments, then jumped when realisation dawned on her.

‘I have got something. Do you know how my first meeting with Bheem was manoeuvred?’

The smile drained from Bheem’s face. As did all the colour. He avoided looking at Ram but could feel him staring daggers in his direction.

It had taken Ram half a second extra to process. When he did, his jaw dropped. How could she know? Unless Bheem had….that traitor. Ram had done it for Bheem’s benefit and that smitten puppy couldn’t even keep his mouth shut.

Smitten puppy. That’s what he will call Bheem from now on.

‘Ram threw iron nails on the road to puncture the tyres of my car. That’s how.’

Sita looked at Ram in disbelief. And part admonishment.

‘Ram, that’s so creepy.’

‘I-I know but hey, it worked right?’

‘God, are you really that stupid or you chose that particular day to say bye-bye to your brains? What if the nails punctured other cars, what about them? Did you go and help all those people too? Did you pick up the nails after?’

Ram looked down, like a scolded kid. Bheem couldn’t take it anymore and came to his rescue.

‘Look at it this way. If it wasn’t for that, we all wouldn’t be here right now. Sometimes the end justifies the means right?’

When both women narrowed their eyes at Bheem, he raised his hands in submission.

‘Can we please forget this and move on, in the spirit of the occasion?’

‘Fine.’

The women said together, then looked at each other, and laughed. Bheem breathed a sigh of relief.

Ram stood up to clear the plates and Bheem followed him, hugging him from behind.

‘Sorry Anna. I just blurted it out to her one night by mistake. Please don’t be mad at me. Please?’

Ram tried to break free from Bheem’s bear hug but Bheem just tightened his hold. And doubled down.

‘I love you, Anna.’

All fight went out of Ram. In a jiffy. This was a Brahmastra that never failed. Bheem could commit a murder and apologise after. And people would forgive him for it.

Bheem knew he had succeeded. So he ruffled Ram’s hair one final time and went back to the ladies, with Ram following behind. He would still call Bheem a smitten puppy though, that was decided in his head.

‘Ok Bheem, your turn. What’s it gonna be?’

‘Dare.’

‘I am proud of you.’

Sita patted his knee, and the whole group smiled at her antics. Including Ram.

Frankly, Ram was stunned to see this side of her. But it made him happy.

‘I heard you guys danced at that party right? I wanna see it. Please please please. I have heard so much about it.’

‘Gosh, it was amazing. Best thing I have ever seen. Everrrrr.’

Jenny chimed in.

Bheem couldn’t say no to the first thing Sita had asked from him. So he did a few steps himself, with a loud cheer from the rest. Then he dragged Ram up and the two danced together, instantly falling in sync even in an inebriated state. Without music. Without even looking at each other.

Sita was mesmerised and Jenny was nostalgic.

Once they were done, Bheem extended his hand to Jenny, asking if she wanted to dance with him. She didn’t know how much she could manage in this state but she could never say no to such an invitation.

He helped her get up, then placed her bare feet on his, moving them effortlessly.

Jenny was stunned to see that he remembered the steps. Like the back of his hand.

When she lost balance & swayed to one side, she yelped, and both his arms wrapped around her waist.

‘Shhh, I got you.’

He whispered slowly in her ear.

She smiled & wrapped her arms around his neck. This was not the posture of waltz but neither of them cared. They only cared about gazing into the eyes of their soulmate. Both thought back to that afternoon of the party a few months back and how much had changed since then.

Jenny willed herself to not get overwhelmed. To not cry. Because the moment was surreal.

However, Sita got teary-eyed looking at the two. Their love was palpable. She had seen their journey first hand - from the nervous shy looks to baby steps towards other to being madly in love. They made her believe in miracles. In destiny. They also reignited her faith in love.

It was sweet for a while but when the two kept going, she had to intervene. She was happy for them and everything but they didn’t need to rub their closeness in her face.

‘Ummm hello, get a room you two.’

They blushed profusely and sat down, still holding hands. Jenny tried to kick Sita but the woman anticipated it and ducked away in time.

Ram was glad for the intervention. Because he was about to puke at this mushy display. Smitten puppy was such an apt name for his love sick friend.

‘You are extra chirpy today, aren’t you? Fine, your turn then. Let’s see if you dare to pick dare.’

Jenny goaded Sita, wanting to get back at her. And it worked.

‘Oh please, I am not a coward. Fine. Dare it is.’

Jenny laughed her best naughty smile. Making Sita nervous for the first time that night. She didn’t like where it was going.

‘Give Ram a lap dance.’

‘WHAT????’

Ram and Bheem gasped loudly. Sita looked down. Her evil friend had her checkmated, or at-least that’s what she thought. But Sita was in no mood to cower away or back down. Not tonight.

She stood up, made another glass of bhang, downed it in a few sips and came back to her spot.

The men looked at each other nervously, and at the two women, not knowing what else to do.

‘Let’s do it.’

Sita declared, looking straight at Ram. The said man died a thousand deaths instantly.

‘Ok that’s enough. This is madness. This can’t go on. I can’t watch this. This has to sto….’

Jenny interrupted Bheem’s rant by covering his mouth with her hand.

‘Stop being such a prude. This is happening. If you can’t watch it, go sit in a corner and cover your ears.’

Bheem did exactly that. He huffed and puffed his way out of the circle, found the farthest corner, sat down facing the wall, and plunged his fingers in his ears. Sita was like a sister to him, and watching this would be wildly inappropriate.

Sita kept looking straight at an ashen faced Ram. Who was stunned into silence. And numbness. At the suggestion. And the acceptance. Both.

Sita wanted to do this partly to not back down. But also, she knew they would never get a chance to do anything remotely wild again. Their real life didn’t allow it. This was the only moment and she wanted to seize it. Curiosity got the best of her. Jenny had told her about their night in the cabin. She knew she could never have that degree of adventure but this was massive for them too. She wanted to know what this would be like.

But her legs didn’t move. Despite her best efforts. She needed more liquid courage, so she asked Jenny to fetch her another glass of bhaang. And gulped it readily.

When Ram realised she wasn’t backing down, he decided to put his foot down.

‘Sita, no. You are out of your mind. And pissed drunk. Let’s go back.’

Sita blew raspberries at Ram, making Jenny burst into a fit of giggles. Bheem could mildly hear the commotion from the corner and was horrified that the dance had already begun.

‘YOU ARE ACTING LIKE A CHILD.’

‘Oh, that’s the opposite of what I am going to do just now.’

Sita stood up, and slowly walked towards Ram, petrifying the shit out of him.

She opened her hair, letting them fall to her waist. And transformed into a siren that neither Ram nor Jenny could ever imagine.

‘L-listen, this is…..this is…..’

‘You just saw those two, didn’t you? Then why is this any different?’

‘Because…because..’

‘For once in your life, stop being a buzzkill will you?’

Ram shut up and stayed rooted to his spot, as Sita started to caress his torso and dance around him. She slapped his hands away from his face and made him look at her. Actually look at her.

Ram was equal parts horrified and mesmerised. Extremely confused by his emotions. The woman glided into his lap, and moved like the smoothest jazz dancer. For the life of him, Ram couldn’t figure where Sita had learned that from.

Jenny’s mouth open and closed repeatedly. She had no idea her dare would unleash this kracken. While she wasn’t a party to the dance, she was feeling all bothered inside for some reason. For a moment, she wanted to be in Bheem’s place. This had started to feel like an invasion of their private moment. But then, she would have never known this side of her friend.

6 glasses of bhang in one hour and can drive the best drinkers nuts. And Sita had very little experience with that drink earlier.

So, just when Jenny was sitting on the edge of her seat, literally, Sita passed out in Ram’s lap. Like a light. Ram looked at her in confusion. Then looked at Jenny. The roller coaster of emotions had thrown their senses haywire. They had lost all context of reality.

‘Is the atrocity over or is it still going on?’

Bheem’s pained voice got them back to earth. Ram gathered Sita in his arms while Jenny found her voice again.

‘Umm yeah, it’s over. You can come back.’

Bheem returned to find Ram and Jenny shell-shocked, while Sita was dangling in Ram’s arms. He had no intention of ever finding out what happened there.

‘I-I should go back to the village. She needs to have some lemon in her system soon. And we don’t have any here.’

Bheem nodded at Ram, and Ram walked back to the village. Carrying a passed out Sita in his arms. If it wasn’t for the weight of her, he would be pinching himself right now to snap out of the dream he was in. Because, how could anything that happens just now be real?

Jenny decided that she needed another glass to recover. Looking at her face, Bheem didn’t even protest.

The drink did it’s job, and Jenny was chirpy again in no time. The scene from earlier already a distant memory in her head. But the heat from the situation remained. She hugged Bheem tightly, peppering kisses all over his face.

Before he could recover, she had dragged him to the cot and pulled him on top of her.

Bheem broke their kiss shortly, rolling off to her side. She whined loudly, reaching for him again, but he stopped her mid-way.

‘Jenny, you are in no state to give consent. Nothing is going to happen tonight.’

He said decisively, leaving no room for arguments. She wanted to be annoyed, to tell him that she was in full senses and that he should take her word for it instead of making his own assumptions. But she knew his heart was in the right place and she could never get him to budge on his moral grounds.

Cuddling with him was the best she was going to get. When she snuggled next to him and adjusted her legs, a cramp made her wince loudly.

Bheem immediately swung into action, inspecting the area and stretching her leg.

‘See, this is why you shouldn’t have walked after injuring your toe. You ended up putting extra pressure on this leg. Wait.’

He looked around the cabin and was glad to find some oil to massage her leg. He lifted both her legs to his shoulders, applying the oil on them tenderly. Jenny looked at his face throughout, as he tended to her.

In a different situation, the sight of her disheveled like this would have garnered a different reaction from Bheem. But right now, he was only concerned about bringing relief to her, and nothing else. There was no end to this man’s amazingness.

Somewhere along the way, she fell asleep, knowing he would be by her side through the night.

It had been some evening. They had all ventured into some unchartered territories, leaving some scandalized and the others giddy. But one thing was for sure. None of them was going to forget this evening and what transpired here.

....................................................................

P.S. - I may have been drunk while writing this.

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97 @voidsteffy @maooyinysparkle @amalthea9 @vijayasena @stars-in-the-distance @astrafangs

[dailyanarchistposts]

G.2.2 Is communist-anarchism violent?

Having shown that communist-anarchist is a valid form of anarchism even in terms of individualist anarchism in the last section, it is now necessary to discuss the issue of methods, i.e., the question of revolution and violence. This is related to the first objection, with Tucker arguing that “their Communism is another State, while my voluntary cooperation is not a State at all. It is a very easy matter to tell who is an Anarchist and who is not. Do you believe in any form of imposition upon the human will by force?” [Liberty, no. 94, p. 4] However, Tucker was well aware that the state imposed its will on others by force and so the question was whether revolution was the right means of ending its oppression.

To a large degree, discussion on the question of revolution was clouded by the fact it took place during the height of the “propaganda by the deed” period in anarchist history (see section A.2.18). As George Woodcock noted, a “cult of violence … marked and marred” the IWPA and alienated the individualist anarchists. [Anarchism, p. 393] Johann Most was the focus for much of this rhetoric (see Paul Avrich’s The Haymarket Tragedy, particularly the chapter entitled “Cult of Dynamite”). However, the reason why talk of dynamite found an audience had nothing to do with anarchism but rather because of the violence regularly directed against striking workers and unions. As we discuss more fully in section G.3.1, strikes were habitually repressed by violence (by the state or by the employer’s private police). The massive 1877 strike wave, for example, saw the Chicago Times urge the use of hand grenades against strikers while employers organised “private guards and bands of uniformed vigilantes” which “roamed the streets, attacking and dispersing groups of workers. Business leaders concluded that “the chief lesson of the strike as the need for a stronger apparatus of repression” and presented the city of Chicago with two Gatling guns to aid that task. “The erection of government armouries in the centres of American cities dates from this period.” This repression and the vitriolic ruling class rhetoric used “set a pattern for the future and fuelled the hatreds and passions without which the Haymarket tragedy would not have occurred.” [Paul Avrich, The Haymarket Tragedy, p. 33 and p. 35]

Given this general infatuation with dynamite and violence which this state and employer violence provoked, the possibility for misunderstanding was more than likely (as well as giving the enemies of anarchism ample evidence to demonise it while allowing the violence of the system they support to be downplayed). Rather than seeing communist-anarchists as thinking a revolution was the product of mass struggle, it was easy to assume that by revolution they meant acts of violence or terrorism conducted by a few anarchists on behalf of everyone else (this false perspective is one which Marxists to this day tend to repeat when dismissing anarchism). In such a situation, it is easy to see why so many individualist anarchists thought that a small group of anarchists sought to impose communism by means of violence. However, this was not the case. According to Albert Parsons, the communist-anarchists argued that the working class “will be driven to use [force] in self-defence, in self-preservation against those who are degrading, enslaving and destroying them.” [The Autobiographies of the Haymarket Martyrs, p. 46] As August Spies put it, ”[t]o charge us with an attempt to overthrow the present system on or about May 4th, and then establish anarchy, is too absurd a statement, I think, even for a political office-holder to make … Only mad men could have planned such a brilliant scheme.” Rather, “we have predicted from the lessons history teaches, that the ruling classes of to-day would no more listen to the voice of reason than their predecessors; that they would attempt by brute force to stay the wheel of progress.” [contained in Parsons, Anarchism: Its Philosophy and Scientific Basis, p. 55] Subsequent events have proven that Spies and Parsons had a point!

Thus arguments about violence should not result in the assumption that the individualist anarchists were pacifists as the subject usually is not violence as such but rather assassinations and attempts of minorities to use violence to create “anarchy” by destroying the state on behalf of the general population. “To brand the policy of terrorism and assassination as immoral is ridiculously weak,” argued Tucker. ”Liberty does not assume to set any limit on the right of an invaded individual to choose his own methods of defence. The invader, whether an individual or a government forfeits all claim to consideration from the invaded. This truth is independent of the character of the invasion.” This meant that the “right to resist oppression by violence is beyond doubt. But its exercise would be unwise unless the suppression of free thought, free speech, and a free press were enforced so stringently that all other means of throwing it off had become hopeless.” Ultimately, though, the “days of armed revolution have gone by. It is too easily put down.” [Instead of a Book, p. 430, p. 439 and p. 440]

Except for a small group of hard-core insurrectionists, few social anarchists think that violence should be the first recourse in social struggle. The ultra-revolutionary rhetoric associated with the 1883–6 period is not feature of the anarchist movement in general and so lessons have been learned. As far as strategy goes, the tactics advocated by social anarchists involve the same ones that individualist anarchists support, namely refusal of obedience to all forms of authority. This would include workplace, rent and tax strikes, occupations, protests and such like. Violence has always been seen as the last option, to be used only in self-defence (or, sometimes, in revenge for greater acts of violence by oppressors). The problem is that any effective protest will result in the protesters coming into conflict with either the state or property owners. For example, a rent strike will see the agents of the property owner trying to evict tenants, as would a workers strike which occupied the workplace. Similarly, in the Seattle protests in 1999 the police used force against the non-violent protesters blocking the roads long before the Black Bloc started breaking windows (which is, in itself, non-violent as it was directed against corporate property, not people — unlike the police action). Unless the rebels simply did what they were told, then any non-violent protest could become violent — but only because private property ultimately rests on state violence, a fact which becomes obvious when people refuse to acknowledge it and its privileges (“There is only one law for the poor, to wit: Obey the rich.” [Parsons, Op. Cit., p. 97]). Thus Adolph Fischer, one of the Haymarket Martyrs:

“Would a peaceful solution of the social question be possible, the anarchists would be the first ones to rejoice over it. “But is it not a fact that on occasion of almost every strike the minions of the institutions of private property — militia, police, deputy sheriffs; yes, even federal troops — are being called to the scenes of conflict between capital and labour, in order to protect the interests of capital? … What peaceful means should the toilers employ? There is, for example, the strike? If the ruling classes want to enforce the ‘law’ they can have every striker arrested and punished for ‘intimidation’ and conspiracy. A strike can only be successful if the striking workingmen prevent their places being occupied by others. But this prevention is a crime in the eyes of the law. Boycott? In several states the ‘courts of justice’ have decided that the boycott is a violation of the law, and in consequence thereof, a number of boycotts have had the pleasure of examining the inner construction of penitentiaries ‘for ‘conspiracy’ against the interests of capital.” [The Autobiographies of the Haymarket Martyrs, pp. 85–6]

Some individualist anarchists did agree with this position. Dyer Lum, for example, “supported revolutionary violence on practical and historical grounds. Practically speaking, Lum did not believe that ‘wage slavery’ could be ended by non-violence because capitalists would surely use force to resist.” [Frank H. Brooks, “Ideology, Strategy, and Organization: Dyer Lum and the American Anarchist Movement”, pp. 57–83, Labor History, vol. 34, No. 1, p. 71] Spooner’s rhetoric could be as violent sounding as Johann Most at his worse and he called upon the subjects of the British Empire to rise in revolt (see his pamphlet Revolution). Equally, many social anarchists are pacifists or believe that anarchism can come about by means of reform and not revolution. Thus the reform/revolution divide does not quite equal the individualist/social anarchist divide, although it is fair to say that most individualist anarchists were and are reformists.

So, it must be stressed that most individualist anarchists did not oppose revolution as such. Rather they considered it as both unlikely to succeed and unnecessary. They rejected revolutionary expropriation “not because we deem such expropriation unjust, invasive, criminal, but solely because we are we are convinced that there is a better, safer, and wiser way for labour to pursue with a view to emancipation.” With mutual banks, they argued, it became possible “for labour to gradually lift itself into the position to command its full share of wealth, and absorb in the shape of wages all that is now alienated from it in the forms of profit, interest proper, and monopoly rent.” [Yarrows, Liberty, no. 171, p. 5] As such, their aims were the same as communist-anarchism (namely to end exploitation of labour and the abolition of the state) but their means were different. Both, however, were well aware that the capitalism could not be ended by political action (i.e., voting). “That the privileged class”, argued William Bailie “will submit to expropriation, even if demanded at the ballot-box, is a delusion possible only to him who knows not the actual situation confronting the people of this country.” [“The Rule of the Monopolists”, Liberty, no. 368, p. 4]

However, there was one area of life that was excluded from their opposition to expropriation: the land. As Yarros put it, “the Anarchists’ position on the land question, which involves the dispossession of present landlords and the entire abolition of the existing system of land tenure … They wish to expropriate the landlords, and allow the landless to settle on land which does not now belong to them.” This ”[o]ne exception … we are compelled to make” involved “believ[ing] that the landless will, individually and for the purpose of occupying ownership, take possession of the land not personally occupied and used by landlord, and will protect each other in the possession of such lands against any power hostile to them.” [Op. Cit., no. 171, p. 4 and p. 5]

Yet as subsequent history has shown, landlords are just as likely to organise and support violent counter-revolutionary movements in the face of land reform as are industrial capitalists. Both sections of the capitalist class supported fascists like Mussolini, Franco and Pinochet in the face of even moderate attempts at expropriation by either reformist governments or the peasants themselves. So as the history of land reform shows, landlords are more than willing to turn to death squads and fascism to resist it. To suggest that squatting land would provoke less capitalist violence than, say, expropriating workplaces simply cannot be supported in the light of 20th century history. The choice, then, is simply to allow the landlords and capitalists to keep their property and try to but it back from them or use political or revolutionary means to expropriate them. Communist-anarchists thought that the mutual banks would not work and so supported expropriation by means of a mass revolt, a social revolution.

As such, communist-anarchists are not revolutionaries by choice but rather because they do not think capitalism can be reformed away nor that the ruling class will freely see their power, property and privileges taken from them. They reject the mutualist and individualist anarchist suggestion that mutual banks could provide enough credit to compete capitalism away and, even if it could, the state would simply outlaw it. This perspective does not imply, as many enemies of anarchist suggest, that social anarchists always seek to use violence but rather that we are aware that the state and capitalists will use violence against any effective protest. So, the methods social anarchists urge — strikes, occupations, protests, and so forth — are all inherently non-violent but resistance by the state and capitalist class to these acts of rebellion often results in violence (which is dutifully reported as violence by the rebels, not the powerful, in the media). That the capitalist class will use violence and force to maintain its position “is demonstrated in every strike which threatens their power; by every lock-out, by every discharge; by every black-list.” [Parsons, Anarchism: Its Philosophy and Scientific Basis, p. 105] Ultimately, the workings of capitalism itself provokes resistance to it. Even if no anarchist participated in, or help organise, strikes and protests they would occur anyway and the state would inevitably intervene to defend “law and order” and “private property” — as the history of every class system proves. So communist-anarchism does not produce the class war, the class war produces communist-anarchism.

In addition, Tucker thought that a violent revolution would not succeed for without an awareness of anarchist ideals in the general public, the old system would soon return. “If government should be abruptly and entirely abolished tomorrow,” he argued, “there would probably ensue a series of physical conflicts about land and many other things, ending in reaction and a revival of the old tyranny.” [Instead of a Book, p. 329] Almost all revolutionary anarchists would agree with his analysis (see section A.2.16). Such anarchists have always seen revolution as the end of a long process of self-liberation and self-education through struggle. All anarchists reject the idea that all that was required was to eliminate the government, by whatever means, and the world would be made right. Rather, we have seen anarchism as a social movement which, like anarchy itself, requires the participation of the vast majority to be viable. Hence anarchist support for unions and strikes, for example, as a means of creating more awareness of anarchism and its solutions to the social question (see section J.1). This means that communist-anarchists do not see revolution as imposing anarchism, but rather as an act of self-liberation by a people sick of being ruled by others and act to free themselves of tyranny.

So, in summary, in terms of tactics there is significant overlap between the strategies advocated by both social and individualist anarchists. The key difference is that the former do not think that the latter’s mutual banks make expropriation unnecessary while the individualist anarchists think that expropriation of capital would provoke the state into attacking and it would be unlikely that the rebels would win. Both, however, can agree that violence should only be used in self-defence and that for most of the time it is not required as other forms of resistance are far more effective.

[missizzy]

Fic: The Tempest in Winter(Critical Role, Vaxleth)

It's been a very, very long day. The couple of weeks by which Grog's folly and Vex's pregnancy delayed Keyleth's return at least meant everyone in Zephrah had already heard the full story, but gave her father more time to get very anxious about her. Since stepping back through the tree, she's spent most of her time dealing with the matters that piled up in her absence, but all the while, the people around her looked at her with sadness and pity, and offered condolences until she thought the next one might make her scream. Dinner with her poor father was agony.

They also wouldn't leave her alone. Noone has, during the day. While she was in Castle Whitestone, even its servants seemed to always be present and keeping one eye on her, as if they feared every moment she was about to collapse or something. There were places elsewhere in the city or the wilderness she could sometimes escape to, and there might be places here in Zephrah as well, but today she hasn't had the opportunity. Her father stayed with her until she finally excused herself to sleep.

But now she is alone. All alone, as she pushes open a door and just stares into a room she last saw not much more than a month ago, when she peeked in and glanced around, just to make sure she and Vax hadn't forgotten anything.

At first she keeps her eyes on the bed, as she walks in and sits on it, and wishes she was much more tired. But ultimately, she can't stop herself from looking around.

Everything in the room's been left mostly untouched, although she supposes her father would've stepped in and done a quick magical dust every now and then, and maybe another one that morning. Her and Vax's spare robes are still on top of the closet, and she knows there's a piece or two of his clothing still in there. Most of the stuff on the bedside table is hers, but amid it all there stands out a mostly empty jar of boot polish. The books on her shelf are almost entirely from her childhood, but she sees two of them on Exandria's history sitting on one end where Vax left them, his bookmarks still marking where he'd left off.

Rolled up against one wall is a tapestry they received a couple months ago now, a gift sent by a weaver in Emon. One who apparently received some account of exactly how Thordak was killed, but either it got distorted or he took artistic liberties, for it shows Vax stabbing his heart crystal, with it shattering as a result. Keyleth hadn't wanted to throw it out, but Vax hadn't wanted to look at it, so they just sort of left it there.

The bed they got to fit both of them was always a little too big for the room. Now, as Keyleth sits on it with her legs folded under her, she feels like it almost floods the place, yet another reminder.

A vivid memory hits her of the last time she and Vax made love in it, a few days before their departure. When she looks at the headboard, she can still him still sitting against it, her in his lap, them gently moving up and down together, as he held her pressed up against him, close enough for every one of their breaths to mingle.

Of course she starts crying again. How could she not?

She cries as she undresses, struggling to hang her cloak up properly with her hands shaking so hard. She cries as she dons a nightgown, one she doesn't even try to button up all the way. She cries into the pillow as she pulls the blankets around her, trying to get herself warm in the chilly night, even while feeling like she'll never be warm again.

This, she decides, will be the last night she sleeps in this room. She'll have to figure out in the morning where she'll live, but she and Vax did discuss moving out in their final months together. Of course, that was when they started discussing not only marriage, but possibly even children. It was always very hesitant, even as they confirmed it was what they both wanted. And yet Keyleth wonders if they tempted fate, talking that way, just a little too much.

Even if he'd lived to marry her, Keyleth's not sure Vax would've agreed to children, in the end. He might have still been too worried about leaving them behind.

Eventually she gives up on falling asleep, at least immediately. She goes over to the wardrobe without bothering to light anything, and it's dark enough over there it's only when she's pulling the robe she grabs on that she realizes it's Vax's. So many weeks and it doesn't smell of him anymore. Keyleth doesn't know if that relieves or disappoints her. She wraps herself up in it and goes over to the window, pushing the shutters open.

From here she can see a good deal of Zephrah, and Catha's bright enough for her to make out details, even a handful of people who are still up and outside. Next to the home she shares with Derrig, the head of the Tempest Blades, his wife Nel is standing and talking to Laney, a much older woman. Not far from them, young Torth is up his roof, probably looking for weak spots in it. There's a young couple slowly strolling up the hill hand in hand; Keyleth doesn't look at them long enough to tell who.

Up this high enough and the air isn't always entirely still at night. There's just enough of a cold breeze to prick Keyleth's cheeks, to be sharp on her ears. The tears have stopped, but they've left her skin colder. The chill fills the room; her feet are freezing. She could warm herself with her hands, of course, but right now, she doesn't want to.

Nel and Laney finish their conversation. The former goes into her home, while the latter walks off, towards her own. The couple have strolled out of sight completely. Keyleth hopes they get inside. Torth's still out there, and while he's got a good coat on, she can still see him shivering a little.

Around this time last year, Keyleth spent a few days treating the town to some snowfall. Not the easiest task, and the snow had always melted overnight, but each afternoon there'd been enough for sledding and snowmen, and Vax was among those who had led off snowball fights. The children of Zephrah all have to be hoping she'll do it again this year. And she will. Just not for a few weeks, at least. Zephrah has plenty of overcast days in winter. There'll be time.

She remembers on the last day she did it, Vax insisted on taking her sledding. They ended up crashing. Everyone who saw it came running to help, many of them laughing as they'd done so, but Keyleth found she didn't mind that so much. Her father noted afterwards that had been a little undignified of her, but he didn't push the point too much. Keyleth never wants to be above her people, and everyone now knows that very well.

Vax helped with that a lot. Keyleth's not sure he ever even realized how much goodwill he earned from them both with his behavior to everyone, the warmth and congeniality he was better at than her. She's only fully appreciating it now.

Among the things her father told her about today was that Zephrah has already done mourning rituals for him. The day they heard the news, he said, they all gathered together to remember him, and they sat and reminisced until well into the evening. It was probably the biggest mourning gathering they'd had since they heard about the devastation of Pyrah. Many wore black the next day. Since then, a number of tokens have appeared on the altar he made, likely gifts for him, rather than the Matron.

But much as they loved him, that was only going to go on for so long. For most of the Air Ashari, the mourning period for their headmaster's consort is now over.

Torth apparently finishes his work on the roof for the night; Keyleth watches him climb down. She sits there for maybe a minute or so more, before she finally forces herself to close the shutters.

Ultimately she falls asleep laid on partly on top of the covers, partly with them wrapped around her, still wearing Vax's robe. The next morning, she awakes to the sound of tapping against the shutters, accompanying by the cawing of a raven.

[poliwhirl42]

Hi! What is your opinion on every pokemon season (by region) or at least the ones you have watched?

Oh man, a great question! I'll try to condense my thoughts about each into a few sentences but you should probably prepare for a novel haha:

Kanto: Honestly, when I watch the Original Series, I actually prefer watching the Orange Islands and Johto over the first season (I'll get to why in the next section). I think the first season is incredibly nostalgic to watch and has some of the most iconic moments in the entire anime, and the rest of the Pokemon anime wouldn't exist without it as a foundation, so I have to give it credit. Aside from most of the gym battles being kinda stupid, I do wish they'd followed up on lore they introduced that could've been incredibly interesting to explore, like Ash's childhood/his father's whereabouts, Jessie's mom, the Mewtwo/Mew stuff and other Team Rocket history from the CD drama, etc. But I also realize that the writers were just getting their bearings with making an anime adaptation in the midst of a rapidly-growing cultural phenomenon based off a video game, so I recognize the challenges and uncertainties that came along with that. Also quickly adding I highly enjoyed Orange Islands and my Pokeshipping heart revisits certain episodes from time to time as well.

Johto: Those who know me well know I LOVE the Johto series. I'm actually in the middle of a rewatch of it. Definitely rewatching it in full nowadays though, has definitely made me recognize that this series was far from perfect, but looking past its writing flaws, it's just purely entertaining for me. The English voice actors really found their voices and added so much to their characters, especially with the dialogue and the creative liberties they took in creating the dub. I like how certain backstories like Jessie's were explored a bit more in Johto as well, and I definitely think the gym battles were taken a little more seriously than they were in the first season. There were also some GREAT Brock episodes which I highly appreciated, and I never tire of watching the Butch and Cassidy episodes (aka the fortune telling one and the Lugia Arc). Also, Gary and Ash's battle in the League is my second favorite League battle of all time behind Ash VS Paul. Johto is also not only my favorite region but is also home to my favorite Pokemon opening song/OST of all time, and I generally just loved the vibes with this series where not every episode or scene had to be jam-packed with action every single second. It was nice to have episodes of them helping out a Character-of-the-Day or visiting a city or just laying in the grass taking a nap after camping out or having lunch. When I think of a Pokemon journey, those in-between moments are for me just as special as the action-packed high stakes moments. I definitely recognize the downside of this, though, because I do recognize that the constant repetitive pattern of Johto's plotlines in many episodes was fatiguing for many fans who wanted to see something different, and as much as I enjoy watching it, I agree. Johto itself is so RICH with its history and traditional Japanese roots and culture and it really felt like the writers shied away from integrating Ash's journey with a lot of the Johto game lore. It would've been cool to have characters like Jimmy and Marina interact with Ash, perhaps have Silver be introduced, and I also think they really dropped the ball on having characters like Casey and Ritchie be rivals in the Silver Conference. This is getting long though lol so onto AG next!

Advanced Generation: AG to me is like the underrated gem of the pokeani series. I think sometimes it slips through the cracks because it's not as "nostalgic" as OS but not as "hyped up" as XY or DP are. I really like AG a lot even though I don't talk about it much, but I do admittedly feel like several episodes or arcs at least in Hoenn are kind of forgettable to me or lackluster- the two major ones that come to mind are the Hoenn League and the Aqua/Magma arc, both of which should've been FAR more exciting and entertaining. DESPITE THAT THOUGH, I thought the group of four- Ash, Brock, May and Max was incredibly entertaining and brought a whole new dynamic which was different from the OG trio's. I also loved May assuming the role of dual protagonist and absolutely loved the concept of contests! I love Contestshipping and adored every moment May's rivals appeared on screen with their quips and banter. Her growth in this series was fantastic and her battle with Drew at the end of Battle Frontier was chef's kiss. Ash himself, this is actually my favorite portrayal of Ash as he's such a little egotistical brat in Hoenn- other people don't like this as much but I still eat it up, like you just wanna punch him but he's so funny. The battles were also SO MUCH BETTER in AG; I loved little scenes where Ash was teaching his pokemon new moves and actively training alongside them; really showed he was getting more and more serious about being a Pokemon trainer.

Diamond and Pearl: Aside from Johto, DP is my favorite series and is actually the series that was currently airing when I first became fully invested in the Pokemon anime (I did not watch it much as a child), so it's very nostalgic for me. I love almost everything about it, between Dawn continuing the dual protagonist role, contests still being included, Ash's entire team, Paul being an amazing rival, the Sinnoh League being amazing and still my favorite League, rivals like Conway, Zoey, Kenny, Ursula, Nando, and Barry all being awesome in their own ways, so many fun arcs like the summer camp arc, Wallace Cup, Hearthome Tag Battle, Team Galactic's major involvement, Brock's development leading up to him becoming a Pokemon Doctor...I can't get enough of this series. The only thing I don't like is probably the giant amount of filler episodes they really didn't need at certain points and the gaps between Ash's gym battles; even though I love it to pieces like I do Johto, I agree that similarly both did not need to be drawn out as long as they did.

Best Wishes: Besto Wishes!!! So aside from me blabbering on about how much I love Burgundy, gosh I absolutely love BW. There are some things about it I will unfortunately never be able to forgive- like the confirmation of Ash being 10, the Rocket/Plasma arc being canceled, and basically the soft-reboot essentially making all of Ash's development pre-BW for naught. But gosh was this series so refreshing in other ways. Iris and Cilan, both amazing characters, offered a new dynamic with Ash that the previous characters didn't and I will die on this hill disagreeing with everyone who says that Misty and Brock are just like Iris and Cilan. I think Iris out of all the Pokegirls actually had the BEST portrayal of a backstory and I like the development she received. I also love that Ash rotated between pokemon that he caught, aside from his DP team I'm also very attached to his BW and loved all their starkly different personalities. BW was just so much FUN to watch. I go back so many times to rewatch the fun Battle Club arcs and I definitely think the rivals made the series so entertaining. I wish they had explored the connoisseur thing more and wish that Cilan had gotten way more episodes than he did. I wish his rivalry with Burgundy had been explored more as well, and honestly I think they could've done without the Decolore Islands arc. I really wish they had just stayed in Unova and had characters like Georgia and Burgundy return at least one final time since they weren't present for the Unova League. I could say a lot more of course but again don't wanna make this a novel so moving on...~

XY: XY is unfortunately the series I've seen the least of and it's known to be well...not one of my favorites lol. I have a lot of issues with the way Ash is portrayed which is why it's taken me so long to watch it. I have, ironically, seen all of XYZ though, and think the Team Flare arc is the absolute greatest villain arc in the entire series. But I'm still working through all the previous stuff! I was in college when XY aired, so I had unfortunately missed a lot of parts due to being so busy, but it also has its own layer of nostalgia for me, mainly because it was between BW-XY when I first came into the Pokeani fandom on Tumblr and was introduced to a variety of incredible friends, many of which I've now met in person and am still close with to this day. One day I hope to sit down and just power through all of it, because despite some of the issues I have, I know that it has so many good moments and is absolutely gorgeously animated. Also Sawyer is best boy he's my fave and his battle with Ash was one of the best things I've ever seen (my 3rd favorite battle ever).

Sun and Moon: Sun and Moon is simultaneously hilarious and depressing as hell, and I absolutely love it. I don't know if I can say too much because it's been a VERY long time since I've watched SM. It was the first series I watched consistently as it was airing but I also had a lot of stuff going on IRL so by the end I had dropped off just a little bit against my own will. Nonetheless I love so many things about it, between the humor, Ash's found family in Kukui/Burnet, Ash's team, the TRio's team and being so entertaining in this series, Team Skull/Guzma (I find Guzma very attractive lol), and of course Ash winning the Alola League which was amazing to experience and be part of that moment! I love the concept of family in this series and it's just so incredibly heartwarming, hilarious, AND heartwrenching all in one. I really need to do a rewatch of it though.

JN: I'm biting my tongue but I really do not like Journeys lol. I don't really wanna talk about it haha it makes me sad that everything I wanted to happen in the future didn't and it was just so poorly written. The only episodes I like honestly are Lillie/Gladion's return and Paul's return.

I KNOW A LOT OF THIS IS KINDA ALL OVER THE PLACE AND DISJOINTED BUT PLEASE ENJOY MY THOUGHTS and feel free to add yours as well!

[todaysdocument]

Speech of then-Senator Harry S. Truman before the United Rally to Demand Rescue of Doomed Jews, April 14, 1943. 

“This is the time for action. No one can any longer doubt the horrible intentions of the Nazi beasts.”

Collection HST-SVP: Harry S. Truman Papers as U.S. Senator and Vice President

Series: Speech Files

File Unit: Press Release File April 14, 1943 - United Rally to Demand Rescue of Doomed Jews, Chicago, Illinois

Transcription: 

SPEECH TO BE DELIVERED BY SENATOR HARRY S. TRUMAN

BEFORE THE UNITED RALLY TO DEMAND RESCUE OF DOOMED

JEWS AT CHICAGO STADIUM, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, ON

APRIL 14, at 8:00 O'CLOCK IN THE EVENING -

TO BE RELEASED ON DELIVERY

Some twenty-three years ago when we men of American returned to this nation's shores, we dedicated ourselves to the principles for which our comrades had laid down their lives. In our hears was a consuming hatred for the forces of oppression which had sought to crush the free people of the world. In our memory was an undying horror of war. We laid aside our weapons and turned to the pursuits of peace. But we knew we could never keep our trust with those who had given their lives on the battlefield of Europe unless we undertook to bring into actual being the liberty and freedom for which we had fought. That war was waged not only that nations might be free but also that the people who make up those nations might be free.

During this time we strove to achieve these ends through the arts of peace, relying on an honor that we hoped existed between nations. Today, again, we find the forces of oppression seeking to crush the free peoples of the world.

Today the flag of freedom and liberty for which those comrades of mine gave up their lives has been trampled into the dust by the iron heel of the barbarian. In conquered Europe we find a once free people enslaved, crushed and brutalized by the most depraved tyrants of all time. Through the edict of a mad Hitler and a degenerate Mussolini, the people of that ancient race, the Jews, are being herded like animals into the Ghettos, the concentration camps, and the wastelands of Europe. The men, the women and the children of this honored people are being starved, yes! actually murdered by the fiendish Huns and Fascists. Today these oppressed people, still with spirit unbroken look for succor to us, we people of the United States, whose flag has always stood for liberty, freedom and justice for all.

[page 2]

-2-

The history of America in its fight for freedom and the history of the Jews of America are one and the same. During the dark days of the Revolutionary War, when it appeared that the cause of freedom for which our forefathers then were fighting was a lost cause -- when the spirit of Washington and his brave men was lowest -- the man who took his personal fortune and dedicated it to the freedom of America was that early patriot, Haym Solomon. The history of the South could not be written without recounting the honored deeds of Judah P. Benjamin, Senator of Louisiana, statesman, scholar, and revered leader of the South. So on down through the pages of the history of America, you find the efforts of the Jews -- as of all Americans -- striving for all those things that have made America great.

When in the course of the present conflict it became apparent that the forces of evil were moving along a path toward world-wide conquest -- the ultimate goal, the compete and utter subjugation of all nations of the world -- our great President outlined the Four Freedoms: the Freedom of Speech, the Freedom to Worship God, the Freedom from Want, and the Freedom from Fear. Today we find America and her allies fighting to uphold those principles. We are fighting now that the Four Freedoms shall be, not only freedoms for the United Nations, but a guaranteed birthright to all the peoples of the world.

Merely talking about the Four Freedoms is not enough. This is the time for action. No one can any longer doubt the horrible intentions of the Nazi beasts. We know that they plan the systematic slaughter throughout all of Europe, not only of the Jews but of vast numbers of other innocent peoples. The streets of Europe, running with the blood of the massacred, are stark proof of the insatiable thirst of the Nazi hordes.

Now is the time for fighting. Today, as always in the past, Americans are fighting with honor and glory. Those of us on the home front are devoting all our energies to giving them the weapons they need. But we must do more

[page 3]

-3-

than that. Of paramount importance today is the firm establishment of the foundation of our post-war world. We must make sure that when final victory is achieved all men throughout the world will live in peace, free from all oppression.

Today -- not tomorrow -- we must do all that is humanly possible to provide a haven and place of safety for all those who can be grasped from the hands of the Nazi butchers. Free lands must be opened to them. Their present oppressors must know that they will be held directly accountable for their bloody deeds. To do all of this, we must draw deeply on our tradition of aid of the oppressed, and on our great national generosity. This is not a Jewish problem. It is an American problem - and we must and we will face it squarely and honorably.

[inchidentally]

U wanna analyse this? The words kinda made me sad: https://www.planetf1.com/news/peter-windsor-oscar-piastri-negative-impact-lando-norris

oh babe that one's easy bc not only did Lando have his best season yet by a long shot, he has many many times publicly credited it to Oscar pushing him and giving him the kind of competition that he's needed. as in he's said it so many times it would take me hours to screenshot all of them. Andrea and Zak have said it too, and actually the article itself even admits it. at the very last race Lando said how much Oscar has brought and that Lando himself has learned from him.

so big shock, "planetf1" faked a headline for clicks lol.

just to get ahead of the inevitable doom and gloom that sports media posts for engagement, let me pass on what I learned while in hockey fandom:

if the headline is dramatic, it's fake and don't give it clicks and ad rev. if it's not something like "grosjean leaps through fireball" which is easily verifiable then trust me, they won't be able to back it up in the article. remember when Lando did the landolog of him and Oscar karting in Italy and how much fun they had? at the beginning, he joked that Oscar had been a "little snake" for getting there early and practicing. he literally laughed while he said it. but sure enough, headlines on sites w names like F1dotcomBizFunHorny4U had "McLaren's Norris calls teammate Piastri a snake".

negative stories get engagement and melodrama gets even more. they'll worry about fixing it to not get sued way down in the article under the tenth video ad.

if the article was cribbed/didn't get a direct interview with a named source with an actual role within a team then it's either fake or stretched beyond reality for engagement.

even quotations can get chopped to hell and misplaced to fake a story - like people seeing Pierre explain his lack of relationship with Esteban by saying that other drivers might not be close friends either and to not make assumptions. despite quotes from those other drivers that they do in fact like their teammate (Carlos actually said this about him and Charles to Esteban and Pierre on the fanstage at Vegas). if people want to go hogwild with a quote to fit their negative personal narrative then they will. sites that exist solely for ad revenue and sponsorships will do everything to draw those fans in.

if DTS ever lands on the truth it's because that storyline wasn't worth the time in post twisting it into lies. so the fact that Oscar and Lando haven't had melodrama between them and keep saying how well they work together and like each other could mean that we get some unedited actual decent content! but since the 2023 season was so boring it might mean that the editors decide to do a hatchet job and bring in the usual talking heads to fabricate a drama between them. it ultimately doesn't matter bc DTS is only good for f1blr so that we can pull stuff for memes and gifs etc. when Lando recorded his viewing of some of the seasons he spent most of it laughing.

also this isn't the 80s or 90s or even early 00s Formula 1. the drivers are expected to stay much more even keeled out of respect for their teams and even the Pierre/Esteban situation (jsyk I do know their childhood history) isn't like they're out for each other's throats. they have a solely professional relationship now and they'd both agree that being civil is much better than not having an F1 seat. drivers are also way too busy nowadays with their own sponsorships and work outside racing to sit and fester these crazy rivalries in bars and pubs - as well as the media duties for their team that are way more since Liberty Media took over.

every set of teammates will experience ups and downs and tensions but they also have every incentive to get over it and not fuck up their work environment. especially at McLaren where Andrea and Zak now take a hard line about the drivers cooperating at all times for the sake of the team, that's never going to spiral into the kind of drama that media want. Lando beating himself up this season is because he's 5 years in and dying for that win, it's his mentality and it clearly didn't stop him from snatching podiums and points anyway. does he envy Oscar's sprint win, of course!! but if he hated or even resented Oscar for that Sprint win then he wouldn't keep bringing it up on Oscar's behalf all the time. he would do like other resentful teammates have done and simply avoid talking about it at all.

tl;dr anon, for your own sake please customize your F1 media experience or it'll drive you crazy <3 and just to say, I don't look at anything but F1.com or AP news to get updates on anything and I don't pay attention to anything else.

[wisdombooklets]

Lot to unpack here. This is a fascinating section of the wisdom booklets because it leaves a lot unsaid, reminding me of how much additional (more explicit) info was likely being conferred by the parent/religious authority who’s teaching from these. It all ultimately adds up to the states-rights-ification of Civil War history, of course, but I’m interested in the way they get that across without saying it—and with biblical justification.

some areas of interest:

1. “This war accomplished far more than the freeing of slaves.”

This is their only mention of what the war was actually about, phrased in such a way that it kind of skirts around having to say “slavery wasn’t really the main focus.” Maybe saying that kind of thing outright was passé by the 80s-90s.

2. The Civil War changed America from a country with state-controlled government to a federally controlled country with its power centrally located in Washington D.C.”

Pointing this one out just because it’s stupid: they seem to have mixed up the Civil War with the Constitutional Convention? Maybe Shays’ Rebellion?/s Either that or they’re suggesting federalism and the Constitution just fully didn’t exist until 1865 lmao

3. “Now there existed ‘equality’ such as the ‘equality’ the French Revolution propagated.”

This is referencing an earlier section that talks about the French Revolution: “French law promotes individual liberties, equality in labor relations, and equal rights. While on the surface these qualities seem good, in effect they totally changed the view of law. They promote a substitution of situational ethics for Biblical principles.”

What’s left unsaid: ‘inequality is righteous if it can be supported by Biblical principles; slavery is supported by Biblical principles; therefore, slavery is righteous.’

4. “The Fourteenth Amendment did more than simply create bad changes, it created a major problem by shifting the philosophy.”

What are the bad changes we’re talking about here? They’ve given themselves plausible deniability (if you can call it that) by saying earlier that 14′s problem was that it “took the power from the states and gave it to the government,” but they’re referring to “changes” plural here.

Also, of course, them not saying specifically how 14 “shift[ed] the philosophy” says enough on its own. I imagine it would be much less attractive for them to say outright something like: ‘Granting citizenship and equal protection under the law to formerly enslaved people replaced God’s authority with man’s authority.’ But that’s the implication.

Now that I’m looking at it, they don’t mention the actual content of the Fourteenth Amendment at all. Good luck with your education if you’re being homeschooled with this, lol.

5. “The fundamental emphasis of America’s founding fathers in interpreting law was that law was God-given with its foundations rooted in the Bible, possessing definite absolutes.”

again, read as: ‘inequality is righteous if it can be Biblically justified’. Also worth examining are those “definite absolutes,” as well as the “denial of absolutes” which the author asserts as a “myth” of “humanistic” law —what are these absolutes? Did Jesus make sure to proclaim the objective correctness of American states’ rights in the Bible? No? Well surely they’re not referring to segregationist readings of the Bible which assert that “black people were inferior to white people, cursed by God and naturally suited to manual labor.” /s

I need to do some more research to figure out when the wisdom booklets were published (specifically the ones I have access to) because that would offer some more insight as to the contemporary implications of their histories. But regardless of that, it’s obvious the author is still pissy about the Civil Rights Movement and that seeps into the writing here.

— Apologies for the long read— I didn’t feel it was responsible to post this section of the booklets without making it clear what is couched in its language and why it’s wrong. Anyways, I’m from the north and don’t recall ever encountering the states’ rights argument in school (aside from refutations, that is) — for any folks from the South, is their rhetorical positioning here fairly common to what you’ve seen?

[america-is-my-muse]

America's Family Explained [Countryhumans]

Fitting that I start off what I hope will be a little series with headcanons about my favorite countryhuman. As biased as I may be, I also just know the most about US history, so it seemed like the place to start. I've tried to combine actual history with sensical storytelling, because the most by-the-book interpretation doesn't always line up with what makes sense for a character backstory and I've taken some liberties in those cases. I will also be explaining the reason behind my headcanons in case people want to know how I got from A to B, not just dropping them and running

Also, disclaimer that this is MY PERSONAL headcanon/AU. You are free to agree with it or not, but don't leave hate telling me why I'm wrong, just move on because there's no established cannon in this fandom and we can all do whatever we want provided it's not wildly offensive.

Part I: Birthday

Establishing America's birthday seems like a silly thing to do, both because most people are going to immediately assume it's July 4th, 1776 and because it seems such a trivial thing to headcanon unless you're specifically setting out to write a fic celebrating his birthday.

Establishing his birthday, however, is actually really important to everything else I'm going to talk about. First of all, 1776 can't be America's birth year because that would mean that a) he just popped into existence fully formed b) he would miss all of the influential American Revolution events that took place before that and c) it doesn't make sense with the allegory of teenage America rebelling against his overbearing father Britain that I like so much. Instead, I picked the year 1607, because it is the year Jamestown, the first permanent British colony in the Americas, was established. Technically, his birthday should be May 13th, but I like having it on July 4th better, so his birthday is July 4th, 1607.

Part II: Parents

America's parents are Kingdom of France and Britain (The modern UK). This is a debated topic within the fandom from what I've seen, because the common idea that America's parents are France and Britain just doesn't really make historical sense, and frankly I agree.

As for France, modern France is technically the fifth Republic, which didn't come into existence until 1981, but even if you wanted to group all the iterations of French democracy together into a single personification (I don't, but theoretically), that still puts her 18th birthday in 1791 (countries turn 18 when they become independent), meaning it's really unlikely she would have been around and of any reasonable age to bear children in 1607 without any good reason to, therefor I have made Kingdom of France (her grandmother) the mother of America and his full siblings.

The reason this doesn't apply to Britain is because I'm considering the 1535 union of England and Whales as the beginning of British rule rather than the 1707 union of England and Scotland, which is when the name Great Britain formally began to be used. This means he is around to father America in 1607.

Obviously, France and Britain were at odds during this period, but they had entered into an arranged marriage when they were younger and were obligated to have children out of it, thus America and his sibs exist without breaking the universe and having this version of France and Britain actually like each other.

Obviously, there are a couple other candidates for America's parents that I could have used. Technically, Spain makes a lot of sense, but the Spanish Empire is male and married to Kingdom of Portugal in my AU, and Britain as the father is non-negotiable to me, so this isn't an option. I know some people headcanon Native America as his mother, but I feel like combining the entire scope of native culture/language/etc. into a single personification doesn't really make much sense and Kingdom of France works better story/wise (though for what it's worth the different Native American tribes/nations/confederations do have personifications).

Part III: Family

America has a lot of half-siblings between all the British and French colonies, so I'll only be focusing on his full siblings. Canada and Australia are the other two full sovereign nations in this group, Canada for obvious reasons, and Australia because Dutch Empire (the other European candidate for his parent) is also male in my AU, so they needed a mom and Kingdom of France makes the most sense due to being Britain's wife, even though there's no real French colonial history there. I don't have an aboriginal tribe as their mom for the same reason I don't have Native America as America's mom. New Zealand was also raised alongside the four of them, though her mom is actually Maori.

Besides that, America also has two twins--Confederate and Virginia (who was born Jamestown Colony)-- and the other 12 original colonies + the states they would eventually split into are his younger siblings.

The states are obviously America's children, but they're a mix of biological and adopted, and a couple more are at least partial siblings (Louisiana and Washington, for example) by blood, but they all view him as a father figure so I'm going to avoid the minutia in this post.

Ending thoughts

I think I'm going to work my way through the British/French family next for this little headcanon series, but I'll probably keep going until I stop having fun or don't have anything else to say. I'll eventually probably talk about character arcs & histories, but I'm trying to ease into this and not promise too much because I have a bad track record for putting a lot of pressure on myself over a fandom project and then quitting it entirely.

With that being said, feel free to drop and ask if you want to know my HCs about a specific country or some more elaboration on something I mentioned here. I have a pretty developed AU in my head/in google docs so there's a good chance I'll have something to say. No promises if you ask about something I don't really know anything about. I'm absolutely in favor of talking about niche subjects and less popular countries within this fandom, but that does mean I would have to do the research, and I can't promise to have the time or energy for that.

[menalez]

It annoys me to the core how western movements took liberty of appropriating the word "caucasian" for their own vocab as if it was lying around before, meaningless and unused. im a caucasian woman a.k.a a woman born in Dagestan, Caucasus region. i grew up in rural area, with my deeply religious, muslim grandparents( &with all the "percs" that come with it), bc my mom was working her ass off as a nurse 24/7 to feed us, and my dad was prosecuted for being a political activist and couldn't find any job. Eventually, we had to flee our home bc the pressure for my family's political position and ethnicity was immense and honestly hard to bare.

Now, the topic of russian colonisation of Caucasus was somewhat clear before, i could talk in length on it, esp since have a major in history. But now that "caucasian" was rebranded as a new name for white people in the US, i found myself striped of a basic language to describe oppression of my people.

At first, i thought it was only a US-ian quirk, but as i studied in Germany, i had to repeatedly defend my stance on using "caucasian" to name my ethnicity bc profs were arguing that the term is too broad and ambiguous and i should choose another word/title etc. I had to argue with my coursemates a lot bc we essentially misunderstand eachother when i say smth like "the oppression of caucasian people". People online call me racist for calling out this practice.

Honestly, sometimes i lose hope. Everyone see the effects of imperialism and colonization when it's time to point at US ro Canada or UK w/e, but not when it's russian empire/ussr/russian federation. What's more, ru's imperialism is overlooked and enabled. It's always "oh, not all russians" but even ru leftists are imperialists, even ru feminists are imperialists. Tell them not to call caucasians racial and ethnic slurs and mention the possibility of your region gaining independence, and they'll have a meltdown.

Anyways, thanks for reading this. i really didn't mean to vent this much, but as an exmuslim lesbian, i found your blog really compelling. l appreciate your active position and calling out racist and lesbophobes.

i would say it’s not western movements necessarily unless u count those western people that invented the terms for different races to be that,, but ive seen many ppl from the caucus region complain about this too. i wouldn’t say its a new thing either, they’ve been using caucasian to mean white people for quite some time as it was a part of race science. at the same time they called black ppl and asians “negroid” & “mongoloid” respectively, which is now deemed racist for obvious reasons. “mongoloid” probably related to mongols specifically too which makes it confusing. whereas “caucasian” was used to mean basically everyone else. interestingly they didn’t invent the term “europoid” for example so they intentionally made it a broad term & named it after the caucus region bc they deemed ppl from there the mist beautiful and thus the same as europeans.

i feel u tho, ignoring that russia also colonised many countries is unfortunately common & it sucks theres no term that clearly refers to ppl from the caucus bc europeans appropriated caucasian to apply to themselves