those-ofjustice - Tumblr blog

[those-ofjustice]

ONLY THE BAREST OF A chuckle had come from the young volunteer. He had been so tense ever since the events of Bunker Hill just days ago. The presence of the British searching door to door led the minuteman to seldom come downstairs to dinner since yesterday. Only when she reassured him that the British had since passed to the other side of town did he hesitantly come out to have some dinner with her at the table.

"I was taught to set time aside to speak with the Lord. How odd of that Nun.” While his sense of humor was lacking, the young man smiled even as he consumed a spoonful of the soup she had made. “I hope to move to Cambridge in a few days time. I wish not to put you at further risk, Sister Mary."

@those-ofjustice​ ─── ( ✿ )

             ❝  𝑰   𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘   𝒂   𝒏𝒖𝒏   𝒘𝒉𝒐   𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔   𝒉𝒆𝒓   𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒍𝒚   𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓𝒔   𝒊𝒏   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓.  ❞

             ❝  𝑺𝒉𝒆   𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔   𝒊𝒕   𝑶𝑼𝑻   𝑶𝑭   𝑯𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑻.  ❞

[those-ofjustice]

IN HIS EYES, SHE FOUND no understanding. There was no condemnation, no contrition or desire for absolution. What she saw was the impassive glare of a man who saw himself standing higher than she ever could, from eyes of sapphire blue. He showed no disgust and put on no airs of superiority. Instead, he simply stood, listening to her impassioned words, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

This was not the eyes of a guilty fellow begging forgiveness for the sins committed by those before them. Nor were these the eyes of a man who saw himself superior to her. No, this were eyes of a man who saw no wrong in the events that preceded this moment. Was it heartlessness? Or his hot-blooded patriotism? It was hard to say.

When she was finished, there was but a moment of silence, before Funny Valentine spoke.

“I can sense there is much hunger in you. A hunger for truth. A hunger for justice. A hunger for vengeance. Vengeance against the White Man you so direly vilify. I understand. It is commendable, for you to speak such words boldly.” To hunger was to strive for something much greater than she was, than what she stood for. Ordinarily his security would have taken her away without a second thought, but he found it curious to see what the young lady would say to the most powerful man in America.

“However. Where is the justice for the Homesteaders who sought a new life, far from the persecution whom you slaughtered, scalped for sport? And what of the women whom you raped and the children you carelessly tortured? Where is the justice for the Pawnee, the Omaha or the Kiowa, whom your tribe senselessly slaughtered after being expelled from the Minnesota, driving them from these lands in a manner no different from the Chippewa who chased you from your true homeland? You speak of Justice, yet you fundamentally do not understand it. You speak of contrition, yet you desire nothing but vengeance.”

Not once did Flynn flinch when he spoke. “However, the death of those Homesteaders, the White Settlers, the Omaha, the Ponca and the Pawnee,what would you say they are to the Lakota? In a word, they are your Justice.” Flynn spoke these words without a beat, his eyes of blue staring without flinching into her own silver eyes. “Those children you murdered were your Justice. Those women you stole away, beat and raped no differently than the children taken away were your Justice. Because Justice belongs to the strong, as they have belonged to the Tribes who expelled your people from the lands beyond the Minnesota river and to you, who expelled the Native Tribes who called your land their own. And the White Man’s justice came no differently, won by Rifle and Disease no differently than you won these lands prior from those other Native tribes with Tomahawk and atrocity.”

“Only exception is, you yet live in these lands, you yet stand without the prospect of punishment. Do you know why, Young lady?” He asked, drawing closer without hesitation. “Because our Justice stopped ended Mercy. This Mercy trumped their Justice no matter how hotly the memory of your atrocities burned. Could you say the same about the tribes you expelled, or the innocents your tribe slaughtered?” His voice rose in tone, if only in the passion that came with his words. “Strength is Justice. Victory is Justice.”

“I will not apologize for my people’s Justice. I will not apologize for what came during or after no differently than I will not ask for you to apologize for your people’s atrocities. I care little that you hate me for it. Because America’s Justice goes beyond what the White Man’s justice or the Native’s own Justice. This Justice, a Justice I will bring to this world, will be the true freedom that comes from a person’s Hunger, or Struggle. I intend for all Americans, even you, to benefit from this.” Paradoxically, there was neither a sense of superiority nor  condescension that befell her. No, there was only conviction.

@chronicparagon​

"Tell me. What is the true embodiment of Value?"

"Value? Do you mean to ask what embodies what I value?" That's a broad question, especially coming from President Valentine. There are many things she values, such as kindness, love for others, and protecting the precious life on the planet. But...There are two things she wants to bring up to him. If she must only tell him of a few things, then she will focus on that.

"I value many things, if that is what you mean. Two of them are freedom and justice...These values that this country claims to hold in such high regard." A laugh breaks up her words. Harmony has to laugh. She would scream or cry otherwise. It is hard to keep the hurt and fury contained in front of the man: The president himself. 

It is likely that Funny Valentine had no part in the nightmare she and many others live in every day. Perhaps it is unfair to be so angry with him. But he has taken the mantle as president and many of his predecessors have shamelessly sought to destroy her people.

He must know! He must know of the torment the government brought to the First Nations. If he knew, then maybe, just maybe...There will finally be change.

"These are embodied in many, many ways. The freedom to live in peace with nature is one way. The freedom to raise our children with our languages, values, and beliefs. Freedom to live without fear of suppression of abuse, poverty, violence, and death. Justice for the women and girls of my tribe and of other Indigenous nations who went missing or murdered...Justice for the children who suffered in boarding schools and learn to be ashamed of who they are...Some of them never made it home. Left in unmarked graves and those who are found are the lucky few...Did you know that? Some were taken away from their parents by force and that still happens today!" Slender hands clench to fists at her sides as she continues. Rage rises within her like insatiable flames as she looks at Funny. The young woman steps closer, her silver gaze not moving away.

"We deserve justice for losing our ancestral lands! We deserve justice for the raids soldiers committed in our villages, killing women, children, and the elders in the process! We deserve justice for being forced to live in poverty and grave illnesses! Every day, my heart aches to see my relatives suffer from colonialism! I had loved ones die by the government's hand, and for what? For freedom and justice?"

"What about OUR freedom? OUR justice?!" Her usually soft and gentle voice is sharp and much louder. She continues, wanting him to hear her, hear her people's pain.

"I ask you, Mister President! Where are they? Come to my hometown or to any reservation or tribal community and see what generations of oppression have caused in the name of what you call freedom and justice. Isn't that supposed to be for all, or for the privileged? What would you do about it? Will you stand by like the presidents before you, or will you hear our voices and join our fight for our freedom and justice?"

@those-ofjustice

[those-ofjustice]

A beaded medallion holds a large pendent adorned with seed beads in red, white, black, and yellow. The medallion is of a medicine wheel.

The medallion hangs from two strands of black beads with a graduated fringe hanging from the medallion’s lower edge in the four sacred colors.

FLYNN NEVER QUITE KNEW WHAT the object he found was. The extent of his knowledge fell solely in matters of statecraft, social studies and politics. He remained rather...unknowledgeable in other subjects, particularly when it came with matters pertaining Native Americans. What he can tell was that the object was of great symbolic and spiritual importance to some groups.

Even so, a gift was a gift. And Flynn was taught to cherish them, even if he did not quite know or understand what it may be. "Thank you for this token of appreciation." Flynn tells the stranger, knowing well that they may yet be around. "I shall treasure this gift well."

[those-ofjustice]

Leave an object in my ask and my muse will react to it being given to them.

[those-ofjustice]

            ɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ; ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟ. ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀɪᴀʟꜱ ʙʏ ꜰɪʀᴇ,            ᴘᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴇᴄᴋ ‘ɴ ᴄᴀʟʟ.                                 “ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ-!”                                   ꜰᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴀɴᴏɪᴀ                                    ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ..

                 “ ʜᴇʀᴏᴇꜱ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴀꜱᴋ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ. “

╚»★ M A R D O W E T H I I A;;

A Fandomless Original Character Multimuse Blog.

Featuring: Maya Schwarzer & 17 other muses.

Independent & Selective

Dash Only.

Sideblog to Sircned

10+ Years experience

18+ and won’t interact with Muns under 18.

Like and Reblog if interested in interacting.

[those-ofjustice]

69 Funny Valentine RP icons

54 Fanart Icons

15 In-game icons

Art is not mine. Feel free to use, just don’t do anything illegal with them.

Keep reading

[those-ofjustice]

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure – Heaven Sent Children

GENRES: Mystery, Murder, Timeloop, Action

SERIES EQUIVALENCE: Part 6 – Stone Ocean

ROLEPLAY STYLE: Dungeon Master style

INSPIRED BY: Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Umineko Naku Koro no Ni, Psychopass

GAME THEME: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtmdnB95Uxc

12 people, 1 corpse and a boarded up apartment with no way out. Trapped in the mysterious Blue Oyster apartment complex, you and twelve of it's inhabitants must find a way out. However, it seems as though time itself would rewind, starting anew to that same day, when you would find the corpse of a mysterious figure lying face down just near the doorway. With the manifestation of a mysterious energy known as 'stands' , you must find the truth behind the time loops and uncover the dark mystery behind this setting. But beware: there are sinister foes lurking amongst those you consider 'friends'. Just who can you trust?

> The RP goes by 3 day 'cycles' before the time loops back to June 8th, 2007

> NPCs will not remember what happens in the previous loops, with some exceptions.

> If your character dies, time itself will restart.

> There are other ways to force a reset, to be discovered as the roleplay goes along.

> Use your stand to find out who is responsible for trapping you here and the murders.

> OCs are preferred, with stands that focus best on versatility.

STORY THUS FAR  - N/A

CHARACTER LIST - http://pastebin.com/NwfcBtY9

STAND LIST - http://pastebin.com/zLbtQuR4

[those-ofjustice]

"Ｍｙ ｈｅａｒｔ ａｎｄ ａｃｔｉｏｎｓ ａｒｅ ｕｔｔｅｒｌｙ ｕｎｃｌｏｕｄｅｄ．

                                                     Ｔｈｅｙ ａｒｅ ａｌｌ ｔｈｏｓｅ ｏｆ 𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖊 ."

♛ Independent Funny Valentine Roleplay Blog from JJBA.

♛ Open to Canon, OCs, Self-Insert and Cross-over blogs. Open to most fandoms.

♛ Very flexible: will adapt to partner’s universe if they so desire.

♛ Recommended to read Guidelines and Headcanons, but not necessary.

♛ Nice and generally approachable mun.

 нσмє          αѕк           яυℓєѕ             ѕтαη∂αя∂ νєяѕє            αυ νєяѕє(ѕ)

[those-ofjustice]

ωσυи∂ ||| ѕєкαιι-єи∂αα

@sekaii-endaa

   ONLY A FOOL ATTEMPTS the exact same action expecting a different result. By that alone, Yasuke Matsuda was the biggest fool of them all. He trusted Junko and simply ended up hurt. Worst yet, this may be his last mistake, knowing that his life was slowly fading away.  And now, feeling the pain in his side, the Neurologist gasped, feeling blood slowly ride up his throat. Despite that, he looked her in the eye. “If...you really wanted me dead, can you tell it to me, with a straight face?” To protect her, to go as far as to stain his hands, Yasuke Matsuda simply said the words he longed to say.  

[those-ofjustice]

мαи∂αтσяу тяαιиιиg ||| υℓтιмχтє-иυяѕє

@ultimxte-nurse

A COMMON MISCONCEPTION TOWARDS NEKOMARU Nidai was to assume that when he asks if you would like to train, that there was a choice. While it was rare, when he sets his mind to it there was very little one could do to prove otherwise. Feeling grateful when she bandaged up his scraped knee when he fell, he took every possible opportunity to repay her in kind.

And that, in his world, meant literally ‘nabbing’ her on her way to school, carrying her all the way to the very top of the main building in Hope’s Peak. As if standing at the very tallest point of a sky scraper, Nekomaru Nidai stood near the edge, just a step away from falling to his demise...yet he had only a smile to his face.

“Tsumiki Mikan! As our class’ manager, I find your lack of backbone unacceptable, therefore I, NEKOMARU NIDAI, SHALL HELP YOU BUILD CONFIDEEEEEEEEEEENCE!” Somewhere in the distance, a mirror broke, his voice echoing loudly. “Now...step forward and yell. Yell at the top of your lungs! Show me your SPIRIT!” He stood, arms crossed, as if to believe just saying those words would suffice in getting the bashful nurse to shout at...well, the perilous depths below.

[those-ofjustice]

  Calculating the amount of risk that went into these kinds of operations was a mere blip of forethought. Knowing exactly what you have to contend with right down to what they ate for breakfast, their rising sign, and their tragic backstory really only leaves the footwork of dancing around any potential threats. So it wasn’t that unusual how right now, she wasn’t sweating much of anything. It was just a matter of time until he came around.

❝ Oh, poo—— it’s the SHSL Party Killer. ❞

  She’s sitting pretty on a motherload of important deets; invaluable information that could pave the way for one of many things to come, so she feels she has every right to be here. And of course she does. Exploiting the hard work and effort some altruistic monkeys put in toward a glittering, hope-filled future is kind of Enoshima’s modus operandi. Languishing on an extravagant armchair in front of the blaring blue screen, the model kicks up her feet and pouts, indignant and child-like, arms crossed and all. Nope. She’s not gonna budge.

❝ Now now, Matsuda-kun. No need to use such harsh   language on me— there’s no telling what kind of    irreparable psychological effect that could have    later! And as a professional brain-fondler, I’m not    sure how good that would look on your resumé. ❞

FOR BETTER OR WORSE, NOTHING has ever changed since the day they last saw each other as kids. While the two have certainly matured since those halcyon days of her throwing sand in his eyes and then eagerly holding hands on the way home (only to make Mukuro jealous) , their personalities changed little. That in itself offered little relief, but when dealing with a possibly psychotic childhood friend, you would need every little bit to stay sane. “Coming from the SHSL Sociopath, your label carries little weight. I’ve heard a more convincing argument from those idiots in the Reserve Course.” Matsuda quipped back. He was annoyed, but perhaps the wince ought to give away a sign of weakness. The subject on hand at the screen; the information towards a rehabilitation and mind-alteration through synapses was on the screen, his very own handiwork.

The mind was a complex and unpredictable organ but with the right stimuli and input it should be possible (at least in theory) to alter certain memories or erase them all together. In fact, it was something he had been planning for some time, no less towards her. Junko’s arrival to his class merely hastened his attempt to carry out the plan. “...You’re to talk. Do you know how much sleep I lost playing along to your deranged plans? I still haven’t forgiven you for that time you tried to stab me to death.” And just like when they were kids, Matsuda was ever a poor liar. This was evident in his subconscious yet consistent mannerism, blinking twice whenever he spoke a direct and blatant lie. Truth was, he had long forgiven her for that. In fact, even if she were to burn the world and dye it black with despair, Yasuke Matsuda may be the only person who’d still forgive her.

“Now get off my chair. Only people with more than 2 working synapses can sit there. And you don’t make the cut.” He tried to reach for the shut down button, disregarding her entirely. He knew he would probably regret it, knowing she’d do something dangerous like say, point a gun at him or stab his hand, who knows. But despite that, even if he knew well the risk, Yasuke Matsuda did so regardless.

σℓ∂ нαвιтѕ вαяєℓу ¢нαиgє ||| ѕєкαιι-єи∂αα

[those-ofjustice]

σℓ∂ нαвιтѕ вαяєℓу ¢нαиgє ||| ѕєкαιι-єи∂αα

@sekaii-endaa

FROM THE MOMENT HE LOCKED eyes with Junko during her introduction to class he knew nothing good would come of it. Not only was it suspicious that her ever present and utterly obedient sister was not in their class roll, but just the way she behaved around him was beyond annoying. Even if, well...he loved her, he was down to earth with the facts. It was clear she was planning something, but what? Just a few days ago Matsuda heard from Karen that she was disturbing the council meeting and had to be kicked out. And while it frustrated him to think that the council thought she was his responsibility, it surprised him little that Junko barely changed, always getting into trouble.

Which may explain just why she was casually browsing the lead development PC late at night. As to how she was able to crack Miaya’s security code was perhaps a testament to her analytic skill, but that was besides the point. Matsuda just came back to grab his manga and was treated to seeing his childhood friend fiddle about with their research material. “Oi. Didn’t you see the sign that said ‘No ugly people allowed past this point?’ Or did you forget how to read, Junko?”

[those-ofjustice]

What was hope anymore? At this post of time, it was nothing but a distant memory, it’s existence allowing one and all to snicker at it’s presence. How often, how often was it that the world was overrun by a class of talented students, their one reason for said talent being to spread hope? In the short, seventeen years the girl had lived, she could tell you this much - not often.

There were many positions she could be in now - whether this one was fortunate or not being up for question. Nobody likes a terrorist. The cosplayer was certainly no exception, so the recent ‘visit’ truly wasn’t something on her bucket list - even if circumstances made it seem like she should scrap any ideas she wants to carry out on the future.

Like a squirrels squeal, what was once a relaxed cosplayer would let out the slightest sign of pain, attempting to be as little of a bother as possible. Judging by his tone, it made it seem like he was having a bad day already, or at least that’s what a certain person thought. She slowly heaved herself up, ignoring the constant pain biting in her leg.

“I… I can walk… Many thanks…”

STRANDED, ALL ALONE WITH THIS incompetent dolt and far from safety was hardly how Togami envisioned his demise. Well, perhaps it was a bit pessimistic to consider that, but what could their talents do against him? Nekomaru Nidai was one of the most dangerous Million-Ranked Killers. Those agents of his who bought him precious few moments to flee was nothing more than a mere pushover to the behemoth of a man whose fists made countless children orphans. What chance did they have?

Even so, now wasn’t the time to lick one’s wounds. With a sigh, he tried to stand. “Hmph. Hold this. Atleast make yourself useful for once.” He handed her his microphone. It was at quarter battery, as to show just how desperate this situation was. As for him? He brandished his modified taser. To engage a Monobot in close combat was paramount to suicide, especially to someone whose talent did not hone their body for such situations. Even so, with what little they had, it had to do.

Peering over the corner, he saw what looked like a few meandering Monobear robots, filtering through the debris in search of survivors; most likely them. “Come on. G-ghh...” He groaned behind closed teeth as he hobbled along, holding out his hand, as if to stop her. Up ahead was what looked like a bedraggled Monobear with an erratic right eye twitching as it moved about, flanked by two other plain monobears. The look on his face was not at all pleased.

With so low ammunition, taking out a Beast Monokuma would not be an easy feat. Nevertheless, he turned towards her. “...Listen very, VERY carefully. You’ll only have one shot at this, if you fuck up, you and I will die. Very painfully.” No pressure at all, even though he winced from the wound he sustained before. “Make this shot count. You’ll need 3 to take it down, you only have space to miss once. I’ll take care of the other two with this...” Togami whispered. “...On my signal.” He fired up his taser,as if in part to try and summon up what little courage he had in her...

¢σмρℓι¢αтισиѕ ||| ¢яувαвуχ¢σѕρℓαуєя

[those-ofjustice]

Starter...call?

Like for a starter. Open to any per-established, AU or other ideas. Feel free to plot with me or send any ideas~!

I am also willing to RP the following verses. May contain triggering or disturbing content. 

[those-ofjustice]

нσυѕє αℓωαуѕ ωιиѕ ||| євσиуfαℓѕιтιєѕ

@ebonyfalsities

IT WAS ALMOST INSULTINGLY EASY to goad Togami Byakuya into something he could not win. Better yet, the look on his face after he lost what little he had even after he went beyond waging Monocoins was priceless. That moment he let down his guard, hubris melted away into uncertainty before he hastily downplayed his loss. “As expected from a cheat who tells only lies.There. You win. Not that I needed those coins anyways. Are you happy now?” For someone who made certain to remind others of his superiority, it must have been entertaining to watch him downplay his losses as he licked his wounded pride.

He crossed his arms for a moment, before he, with a spiteful hiss, removed his overcoat. It was almost humiliating, but for someone who proclaimed himself ‘calm under pressure’ he sure recklessly fell for her bluff even after he wagered everything. “I am saddened not because I lost, because this school dared not only trap me here with you imbeciles, but because you can be considered as talented as I. Hmph. Perhaps when all this is over I ought to teach those idiots a thing or two..”

[those-ofjustice]

Reblog if you actually like my blog (*˙︶˙*)☆*°

[those-ofjustice]

яєѕρє¢т тнє ∂єα∂ ||| уαкυzα-тѕυяυ

@yakuza-tsuru

ERASING AN EXISTENCE IS NOT an easy feat. No amount of security or red-tape can circumvent this fact. Lie as they may, rumors spread quickly, even when controlled. Those Reserve Student idiots always yapped about something: they spoke about that girl’s death as if they themselves were there to witness it. Anyone with atleast 1 working synapse can tell it was a lie, but to Yasuke Matsuda, it was an interesting case.

Cranial trauma was nothing new to him; in fact it had been something he wanted to delve into before he was inducted into Gekkougahara-senpai’s project. The reasoning was simple: if the brain contained who you are, from the memories to the nerves that make you function...could it be possible to salvage a stilled brain and functionally bring them back to life?

And that, in a way, was just why he snuck into the Morgue. To the Neurologist, he saw only three categories of people: those without working synapses, the dead and him. In short, he found everyone to be either an idiot or detestable in whichever way. He inspected the compartment before he froze up, just moments before he picked aside the lock (he had a knack for experimenting just what he could do with a scalpel).

“...How long are you going to keep standing there?” He replied. A Neurologist’s senses must be sharp, their mind’s finesse as important as the grace by which they moved their hands. “Oh, you must be one of those idiots from that class. Did you want me to congratulate how well you’re staring at me like a creep? Don’t you have better things to do than to sulk in a morgue?” Of course, to someone who knew Natsumi Kuzuryuu as more than just a corpse ought to find his reckless disregard for the dead extremely disturbing...or perhaps warranting a disappearance much like what had happened to Sato.