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guardianoftheearth · 4 months

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The ribbon girl sat alone, in the corner of the cell, hugging her teddy bear as her hands, consumed by all that use of PSI felt weak, along with her mind. She had absolutely no way of escaping now, even if she wanted to. She looked at the door, that damn door that separated her from freedom. She felt so weird. So weak. Was she even enough? She put her face between her knees, sighing, a frown creating on her lipstick covered lips.

“… maybe he’ll never come…”

As she said those words, the door of the shack opened, the rays of the sun shining behind the figure, making her cover her eyes for the bright light. Eventually, she lowered her arm, eyes staring at whoever entered. Her cheeks flushed red for a moment, her head racing at the thought that yes… maybe her guardian angel existed and was here for her! She immediately stood up, racing towards the bars of the cell, a huge smile on her face.

Once her vision cleared… she was confused. In front of her didn’t stand a knight, or a courageous hero. In front of her stood a kid. A small, chubby kid, with a round face, a red cap, striped shirt, shorts and a backpack with a baseball bat inside. The kid smiled when he saw her, skipping towards the cell. “There you are! You’re Paula, right?” He beamed, not thinking that someone could hear him right in the middle of Peaceful Rest Valley.

Taken aback by the sudden introduction, the girl fixed her bow, looking down at the kid. “Umh… yes, I’m Paula… and you are…?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. “I’m Ness! Ness Snes Nintendo! I heard your call through my dream, and I’m here to save you!” He said, like a hero of one of those ‘Videogames’ she heard about. Wasn’t ‘Nintendo’ a company, too? As he said that name, the girl’s eyes widen, this is it! That’s the boy she dreamed about! … But he was different from what she expected. She sighed, looking at Ness, a bit lost in her thoughts. Yes, he was a kid, but he was also the only one she could rely on.

Reorganized her thoughts, she gave him a serious look, her eyes not leaving the boy’s cheerful ones. “Okay Ness, Listen. I know where the key for this stupid cell is.” Ness did his best to follow her, even if he was also a bit lost in himself. “Take the key from Carpainter. He has it hidden away somewhere. You can find him in the mansion of the village, who he kinda made into his temple, Got it?” She explained, as clear as she could, not wanting to confuse him even more than she thought he was now. The boy, after one or two seconds, nodded eagerly, gripping onto his brown backpack. “Got it!” then turned around towards the door to exit the shack.

“Ness- Ness wait a moment!” She shouted, reaching him with her hand. “Mhh?” He turned around again, tilting his head and walking towards the ribbon girl again. She sighed, searching for something in her purse. “Here, take this” she said, showing the boy a big, but very cool badge that had a certain shininess to it. The red capped boy’s eyes widen at the sight of such beautiful object, which he immediately took. It was white with black borders, an image of the Earth and a thunder at the center and a huge writing that read “MOTHER”, painted in a beautiful red color, that for a reflection of the light, could also look blue or yellow.

“That’s the Franklin badge. What it does changes from person to person, or at least... that’s what I heard.” The girl explained, straightening her posture a little bit. “What I know for sure tho, is that it has protective properties and I’m sure it will be most useful to you.” She made a little smile, watching the boy put the badge on his backpack instantly. Her smile then slowly faded, her gaze going down as she whispered something that the boy didn’t hear well. “… if I had enough power, you wouldn’t be in this situation…”.

The boy put his backpack on his shoulders, gripping it tightly. Before heading for the place, he stopped, looking back at the girl. “… Do you think I’ll make it…?” he asked, a small frown on his chubby face. Paula extended her arm to reach him again, the boy allowing her to scratch his head like a child. With a slightly more relaxed expression, she comforted him “Of course you’ll make it, and if you don’t, I’ll try to bust out of here and come for you. Just kick butt like I know you can! alright?” She reassured him, looking at his juvenile eyes, who in a moment returned cheery. “Thank you, Paula… I won’t fail you!” He said, regaining his strength and rushing out of the shack. “Bye bye!” the boy shouted, waving at her with his arm before disappearing outside. She waved back, a bit worried but still hopeful. Yes, she had to lie about coming to save him and bust out of the cage alone, but she felt like she had to for the sake of giving him power. “See you later, Ness…” She said in a small voice, sighing. Maybe he was her destiny, just not like how her parents intended.

#earthbound #mother series #ness #mother 2 #ness earthbound #paula earthbound #paula polestar #tl;dr Paula doesn't like him romantically

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abybweisse · 3 years

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💩 Mun?🤡 My theory is that the reason Undertaker got kicked out of the Reaper HQ, is because he brought all the anachronistic stuff, from the reapers, to the human world, and created an alternate timeline to ours. That's why Ciel eg, is wearing completely wrong clothes, and why there was a phone in the first few original kuro chapters. They've slowly been working on fixing it, but occasionally Undertaker visits, just to bring back the timeline chaos. He just completely banged over everything.

Um, I think what you wanted was:

🤔 to discuss a specific theory

Sort of like the Prometheus of advanced technology?

Well, my theory isn’t the same, but it has something very striking in common with yours. Instead of him getting kicked out for “bringing anachronistic stuff” to humans, he escapes because he made a grave (pun intended) discovery about the organization. Then he brings “reaper/superior technology”... but it’s not the “anachronistic stuff” you are talking about.

In Mother3 theory, Undertaker has several character parallels.

Dr. Andonuts, the donut-loving inventor of Fascinating Chimera. He’s the only character who appears in all three games in the series, but he’s a kid (Lloyd) in Mother. He has a tendency to hide in trash cans when he’s scared (as a kid and as an adult). He sometimes offers the protagonist donuts. He’s usually helpful, but some of his Fascinating Chimera become enemies, so he’s a partial antagonist. He’s afraid of one of his own creations, the Ultimate Chimera. The king’s army uses his technology to make other types of Fascinating Chimera... including one that is the reanimated corpse of the older mirror twin brother (Claus) of the main protagonist (Lucas) in Mother3. He has a son named Fred (Mother2), who is also an inventor. He initially helps the self-proclaimed king, even before Pokey becomes King Porky, but he regrets it and eventually gets his own revenge against the king.

Nippolyte, who only appears in Mother3, is an eccentric gravedigger who has a special shovel “of the highest quality”. His house gets burned down at least 14 times because he’s a sworn enemy of the self-proclaimed king. He hands a “Courage Badge” to Lucas, the younger mirror twin... the protagonist... saying Lucas’s father (Flint) trusted him to pass it over to Lucas. It’s a family heirloom that Flint (the twins’ father) “treasures”. The item turns out to be the legendary Franklin Badge, and it ends up saving Lucas’s life... while destroying the Fascinating Chimera that his older mirror twin, Claus, had become.

George only appears in Mother, but he’s mentioned here and there later, usually in a vague way, mostly by Giygas (life form that comes from an alien race with advanced technology). George and Mary are humans who end up leaving Earth and going to live with an advanced alien civilization. George returns to Earth, bringing advanced technology with him. He continues to research it, but he also somehow manages to pass it onto future generations, as if some of the technology changed his DNA. His descendants (and possibly eventually others, through unknown means) develop special abilities that they must learn to use. These are psychic abilities that can be used as weapons. Giygas (who was raised by George and Mary) is sent back to Earth to stop George, but Giygas is too late; George has already died from old age, and the technology has started spreading through the human population. [[Interesting to note: the main psychic weapon that Lucas uses (and gets really good at) is PK Love. He uses love as his main weapon because he doesn’t really want to fight. Fascinating Chimera Claus uses some PSI attacks, too, most notably PK Flash. When he finally loses the will to fight his younger mirror twin, Claus aims a PK Flash at Lucas’s Franklin Badge, and it reflects back, destroying what’s left of Claus.]]

So, my version of “Undertaker as Prometheus” is about technology that’s reserved for either reapers or their “superiors” (angels? gods?) and using it in experiments with the goal to eventually revive the dead in the human realm. And the reaper organization wouldn’t be too happy about it, as Othello and Grelle discuss. Even though those two are just now starting to connect the dots, I think others... higher up... already know what’s afoot and want to stop him. At the same time, he’s mating with the humans and creating human-reaper hybrids — something else the reaper organization doesn’t want happening. And I still have John Brown pegged as a “superior” who has a contract with the queen, making him the parallel to Giygas... and the queen the parallel to King Porky. (Not to be confused with Soma being the parallel to Pokey Minch. It’s convoluted, but I have posts about that, too.)

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jedi-mabari · 4 years

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Greene Acre Chapter 4

Word Count:1852 Warnings:Genre typical violence. A/N: Wow, 9 months is way to long, but I finally got the 4th chapter done, and boy howdy am I excited about this one. Hope y’all like it! I’m tagging @dreaming-about-the-dead because I know your love for Black Belle knows no bounds

Summary:After putting Ashley to bed, Black Belle returned to the saloon, and sure enough, trouble rolls in. _________________________________________________________

“-but by the time I got there, the son of a bitch had up and died of cholera,” Belle explained, getting a sympathetic nod from Franklin.

“That’s just piss luck,” he said, wiping out the inside of a glass. “At least he isn’t out there tryin’ to kill ya.” Belle laughed and took a drink from the whiskey in her hand.

“I shoulda killed him back when he first turned,” she said, half a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. Belle sat in contemplative silence as Franklin did his job, but he slowly made his way back to her.

“You got anyone left in the gang?” Bella laughed and shook her head.

“Naw. They’re all in the wind. Ain’t seen any of my boys in near on a year now.” Franklin nodded and leaned against the bar.

“But now you got the kid,” he said, and Belle nodded.

“Yeah. She’s a good kid. Knows how to handle a gun, good with Ol’ Jake. Seems to have a good head on her shoulders.” Franklin nodded and smiled. He opened his mouth to speak when the swinging door burst open, and a young man with greasy brown hair stepped in, out of breath and looking panicked.

“Franklin,” he said, his eyes finding the burly bartender with ease, “it’s the law. And there’s a lot of ‘em.” Franklin grabbed the shotgun behind the bar and shared a look with Belle.

“Everybody remain calm! They ain’t got a reason to raid Clearwater, so let’s not give ‘em a reason.” Franklin stepped out from behind the bar and Belle grabbed his arm.

“Do you want me to back you up,” she asked, her other hand hovering over her revolver. Franklin smiled and looked her up and down and shook his head.

“No offence, Ms. Colter, but you are wanted in seven different states, so, I doubt you bein’ there would actually help me.” Belle smiled and let go of his arm.

“If you need back up, just call out,” she said, and Franklin nodded. He walked out of the doors, shotgun ready as he prepared to greet the lawmen, and Belle slipped through the crowd, taking up position by the window to keep an eye on her long time friend.

A large group rode up on horseback. Belle could count twenty, but there were sure to be more throughout the town. The man in front had his rifle laid across his lap, a smirk hidden underneath an overly large mustache. He leaned forward in his saddle, resting his arm on the saddle horn.

“Good evenin’, Mr. Boyd,” the lawman said loud enough that everyone inside the saloon could hear him.

“Mr. Faulkner,” Franklin said, his voice matching volume with the lawman. “What calls you down to Clearwater this fine night?”

“We’re lookin’ for a fugitive from the law.” Belle grabbed her revolver and pulled it from its holster. She didn’t know if they were talking about her, but she wouldn’t be going down without a fight.

“Anyone in particular, or are you just fishin’,” Franklin asked, and Mr. Faulkner chuckled.

“I have always admired your sense of humor, Franklin,” he said, removing his hat to run his hand through his thick, grey hair. “We’re looking for a young man, one Christopher Jones. He’s wanted for the murder of a young lady up in Gangridge.” He rifled around in his saddlebag and pulled out a folded scrap of paper. He extended his hand out to Franklin, he cautiously took the paper. He unfolded it and took in the drawing on the page. He shrugged and passed the page back to Mr. Faulkner.

“I’m sorry, if he’s been through Clearwater, I haven’t seen him.” Mr. Faulkner chuckled and took the paper back, tucking it away again.

“And of course you’re gonna see everyone that slips through your town.” Franklin glared at the lawman and shrugged.

“Yes. I am.” Mr. Faulkner sat up again and shook his head.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll have a look around myself.” Franklin cocked his shotgun and shook his head.

“I do mind,” he said, taking a protective stance on the boardwalk in front of the saloon. “I’m going to have to ask you to take your posse and leave.” Mr. Faulkner shook his head, and Belle saw the corner of his mouth fall, and his expression darkened.

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Boyd?” Franklin’s only answer was to raise the shotgun. Mr. Faulkner shook his head and grabbed his rifle. “I’m not leaving this town without Mr. Jones.” He glanced behind Franklin, and Belle felt their eyes meet, and his mouth twisted into a wicked smile, though his expression remained dark. “Or someone of greater value.” Franklin followed Mr. Faulkner’s gaze, and spotted Belle in the window.

A shot rang out, and Belle dropped low to the ground. The window above her shattered, and she moved away from the glass. The saloon was chaos, people running around, flipping tables for cover. Belle snuck behind the bar, careful to keep low so as not to get hit by flying bullets. She grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar and the rag Franklin had been using the clean glasses. She ripped the cloth and shoved a strip into the bottle, tipping it upside down to soak the wick in alcohol.

“Franklin, get your ass in here,” she shouted just as he stepped backwards through the door. He was staggering, but managed to make his way to the bar, crawling over it to take cover.

“What do you need,” he asked as Belle shoved the makeshift explosion into his hand. She looked him over, her hands patting down his arms and chest, checking for bullet wounds. As her hand passed over his ribs, he let out a groan.

“What the hell, Franklin,” she said, pressing her hand down to try and keep the blood inside of him. He chuckled lightly and pushed her hand away, digging into his pocket.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Colter,” he said, “you well know that I’ve had worse.” Belle gave him a look and he shrugged. “You need to get you and that girl out of here. Faulkner’s a son of a bitch, but eventually he’ll get bored. But not so long as you’re here.” Belle nodded and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna need a-” Before Belle could finish her thought, Franklin pulled a matchbox out of his pocket and pulled out a match. He lit the wick of the molotov cocktail Belle had placed in his hand and stood, hurling it out of the broken window. He knelt back down next to Belle, clutching his ribs where he was bleeding.

“That’ll buy you enough time to slip out the back. The door lets out into the back alley. You get that girl, and you two get out of here as fast as you can. Hopefully, we’ll be able to keep these assholes distracted long enough for you to slip out of town.” Belle handed him another bottle and nodded.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Belle demanded. “Otherwise I won’t have a place to get free whiskey.” They both laughed, and Franklin took Belle’s hand in his, holding it firm.

“Good luck, Ms. Colter,” he said, releasing her hand. She waited for him to throw the second molotov cocktail before she ran for the backdoor, keeping low to the ground. She checked the back alley before slipping out into the darkness. She waited to see if she could hear anyone in the alley over the gunfire from the street. She slipped down to the hotel, climbing the back steps to the top floor. She ran down the hall, bursting into the room where she had left Ashley to sleep off the whiskey.

Belle stopped when she saw the empty bed and Ashley’s shoes on the floor. She looked around the room quickly, letting out a frustrated noise when she couldn’t find Ashley. Belle quickly grabbed the bags and Ashley’s shoes. She hoped the girl had enough sense in her head to go to the stables and avoid the mess in the street, but the uneasy feeling in her gut had her on edge. Belle ran back down the backstairs and hurried down the back alley. She stopped when a man stepped around the corner, his revolver drawn and aiming at Belle.

She caught the glint off the badge on his chest from the lamp that hung off the wall of the last building of the row. She saw him smirk and, without thinking, she threw Ashley’s shoe at him, knocking him in the head. The deputy staggered back and Belle threw Ashley’s other shoe at him just as he steadied himself. With her hand free, she pulled her revolver out and shot at him. She watched him drop and ran for the stables.

The stable’s lights were on, and Belle took that as a good sign. She looked over her shoulder, and luckily, the fight was still going on, giving her the cover she would need to slip away unnoticed. As she slipped into the stables, she ducked just as a rake swung towards her head. She turned and caught the rake, ripping it out of the assailants hands, pulling it back to attack in turn.

She stopped when the stable boy raised his hands to defend himself, but he didn’t cower or try to run. It wasn’t until Belle realized he didn’t actually pose a threat that she realized her was standing protectively in front of Ashley. Belle dropped the rake and walked over to Ol’ Jake.

“Saddle up, Miss Gallagher,” Belle ordered, and Ashley poked her head over the young man’s shoulder.

“What’s going on out there, Ms. Belle,” she asked, and Belle laughed as she threw their bags over the horse, tying them down.

“I owe you $100, kid,” Belle said, stepping into her saddle. Ashley looked between Belle and the young man, but it only took her a moment to get to Chinook. She climbed on, and waved for the young man to follow. Belle held her hand up to him as he stepped towards them.

“I’m sorry, but we have enough liabilities,” she said, and the young man swallowed hard.

“I can pull my weight,” he promised. “I’m excellent with horses and can hold my own in a fight. I promise I won’t be a burden ma’am.” Belle looked out of the stable doors, taking a deep breath and thinking it over. Belle turned to the young man and nodded once.

“Well come on, I don’t got all night,” she said, and the young man grabbed a small sack and quickly jumped onto Ashley’s horse. Belle and Ol’ Jake stepped out of the barn first, careful to make sure it was safe for them to leave. Chinook carefully followed Ol’ Jake and the three of them set off into the night, the glow from the fires behind them lighting the sky. The three of them headed south, with Belle throwing glances behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed.

#red dead redemption fanfiction #RDR2 imagines #Black Belle Colter #Black Belle #Ashley Gallagher #Greene Acre #Jedimabari writes

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sueboohscorner · 4 years

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#AgentsofShield Season 7 Episode 1 "The New Deal" Recap and Review

The episode starts in New York City in 1931. A group of policemen is waiting for someone, but they get Chronicons instead. The Chronicons kill two of them and then one of them uses a device to take the police leader’s face. The person that the policemen were going to meet comes in and the Chronicons shoot him.

We get to see the scene where they activate LMD Coulson again. His last memories were from the Framework, which guts me because he won’t remember being with May. Daisy tells him that he’s an LMD. Simmons tries to explain, but Coulson finishes her explanation. He doesn’t know how he knows the word Chronicon and it triggers all his memories from the past two years. He overloads and Mack shuts him down. Daisy and Simmons protest, but he’s the Director. This is his call. Building an LMD Coulson should have been his call too, but for now Simmons just needs to tell them everything she knows.

She knows that the Chronicons are trying to take over Earth. She knows that they want to do it by destroying S.H.I.E.L.D. before it became S.H.I.E.L.D. She doesn’t really understand how they can time travel or why the Chronicons are at this time and place specifically. Enoch is with her and Fitz isn’t so that the Chronicons can’t scan Fitzsimmons’ minds again. Also, May is currently stable.

Mack sends Deke out for supplies because he’s probably the least conspicuous person to go out and do so. Yo-Yo is in quarantine, fake laughter real pain, so she isn’t going anywhere, and Daisy has to take the purple out of her hair before she goes anywhere.

Mack turns LMD Coulson back on and they talk. LMD Coulson knows that Coulson didn’t want this, but Coulson also told Mack to trust his team, and Simmons is his team so he’s gonna go with it for now.

Simmons and Enoch found the police report about the dead cops, who are now faceless. In a very Barney Stinson moment, Mack tells everyone to “suit up.”

While Mack, Coulson, Daisy, and Deke walk to the crime scene, they talk about theories of time travel. Deke explains the time stream theory. Essentially, pebbles aren’t going to do much, but if you change too much, you can dam the stream, and that is when you have a problem.

When they get to the crime scene, Deke gives them badly printed police badges. It turns out that they are Canadian Mountie badges. One of the cops won’t let Daisy in, so she has it out with him.

He eventually lets her in, and they find the one man that still has his face. He’s a bootlegger and his booze bottle has a swordfish on it. LMD Coulson tells them that there was an old S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse that used to be a speakeasy. The password to get in was swordfish.

While Yo-Yo and Simmons are working on May, they talk. Yo-Yo’s body is breaking down the Shrike material, so she should be able to leave the Zephyr soon. Fitzsimmons made her new arms because this is 1931 and people don’t have metal arms. Yo-Yo doesn’t initially want them, but Simmons asks her to think about it.

Mack and LMD Coulson go to the speakeasy. The SSR asset that they’re looking for is called Gemini, but when they ask for him, they get guns to the head.

The Chronicons get to the crime scene and see Daisy. They plan to divide and conquer, killing all S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. One of them isolates Daisy and another goes for Deke. Daisy and Deke take care of them. Deke then hotwires a car and puts one of the Chronicons in the back.

The guy that Mack and LMD Coulson are looking for is dead and this causes them to get into a fight with the bartender and a couple of others. LMD Coulson is already dead, so he decides to be a bit reckless. It turns out that he’s bulletproof. This brings the attention of the owner of the speakeasy: Ernest Hazard Koenig.

Yo-Yo decided to try out her new arms. She and Simmons talk about how many times Fitzsimmons have been separated.

They get interrupted by Daisy and Deke showing with their stolen car and unconscious Chronicon.

Mack and LMD Coulson spin the Chronicons as a new gang. Koenig tells them that he’s hosting a party for the governor of New York, a one Franklin Delano Roosevelt. FDR was the one that founded the SSR, which eventually turned into S.H.I.E.L.D. He would be the perfect person for the Chronicons to assassinate.

At the party, Mack is trying not to kill every person that speaks to him. Daisy and Deke show up and LMD Coulson makes a dad joke, which lightens my heart.

Enoch tells Simmons that the hunter they have captured is immune to torture. Simmons has an idea. She’s going to flood his system with so much data that he overloads. Then he might tell them something useful.

Daisy apologizes to LMD Coulson for turning him on since he never wanted to be an LMD. They talk about how weird it is until FDR walks in. Yes, you read me right. They think that the Chronicons are going to hit when leaves for his out of sight wheelchair. LMD Coulson and Daisy get to him and he’s fine.

Simmons does her job a little too well. The Chronicons overheats and melts, but not before revealing that the bartender is the target, not FDR.

The bartender, Freddie is meeting with someone who I last saw in an ABC Family mive about princesses.

Simmons tells the rest of the team who the actual target is.

Freddie’s contact wants him to deliver something to the docks. The Chronicons interrupt and shoot her, but don’t get a chance to shoot him.

Daisy and LMD Coulson take on the Chronicons.

As it turns out, Freddie’s full name is Wilfred Malik and he is none other than the father of Gideon Malik. The Chronicons are planning to take out Hydra so that S.H.I.E.L.D. never forms.

May is gone. In the last moments of the episode, we see her in the ceiling like a spider monkey.

I want Fitz. Now. Barring that one major nonsense, this episode was really enjoyable and I’m so glad to have a real Coulson again. 8/10.

#Agents Of Shield #Agent of Shield #AgentsOfSHIELD #AgentsOfSHIELD Recap #AgentsofSHIELDRecap #AgentsofSHIELD

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

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Whip It (The Eighties Blasts Collection, Part 3.)

Description: Jim Hopper died as a hero. But with that, one certain problem rises up - who will now lead the cops of Hawkins? Hopper thought of that - he decided to write a letter, naming his niece, nineteen-year-old student of Indianapolis police academy, Y/N Hopper as a sheriff deputy in a letter. But anybody in the town doesn’t have a clue that being a cop in Hawkins is way more dangerous than it might seem.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader (eventually) - the story is more driven by the relationships in the gang.

A/N: I am dead from the inside, soulless and tired, but I have another chapter for you. ♥

Warnings: None really, just Jim Hopper being paranoid.

Word count: 2.3 K

Tagging: @charmed-asylum (So u have smth to read before Mount Everest comes back, bby girl. ♥)

Master list: The Eighties Blast Collection

To say it without cursing too much, you needed to say that your day didn't start the best - just as Nancy’s hit off. You didn't exactly oversleep - you were just on time to put something on, grab some snack and to drive into sheriff’s office exactly on time. But your, to be exact, Hopper’s uniform was still wet when you put it over a long-sleeved black tee with a white short-sleeved one put on it. You almost weren't able to put your jeans on or to tie your own damn shoes.

“Okay, check your bag before you go!” - Nancy yelled at you from the car when you stood in the cabin’s doorframe. You took the bag off your back and took a quick look into it - Hopper’s old sheriff’s badge, your car and cabin keys, your purse and some water in a bottle with a leftover sandwich. Quickly, you locked the door and ran into the car, stuffing the uniform’s lower hem into your pants so it didn't look like an American flag.

“Okay. So here's the game plan - I'll drive you to your college and then you'll pray for me to make it on time." - You mumbled when you started the car's engine. Whip It by Devo was yelling all over the place as you left the driveway.

"You can do it. Half of an hour is a good time to make it on time." - She assured you with a smile as she steadier the mirror to do her make up some justice. You drove the roads like a mad man, making Nancy to be pushed into her seat. She was giggling. You were overreacting so much for such a bull. You could make it exactly on time.

Quickly, you dropped her off, it was a wonder that you didn't push her out of the car. She was waving at you while you drove off, sweating like hell. For an October day, it was somehow too warm. When you jumped from your car in front of the local police office, it was five minutes before your shift was about to begin. Nervously, you tried to fix your messed up hair before walking into the office. You didn't look like a cop - the only thing that made you at least appear like a cop was Hopper's uniform shirt.

His trousers were too loose for you. Nervously, you walked in and stopped in front of an old lady's table. You looked her into the face. - "I'm miss..." - You reached out your hand to her, but she stood up and said your name before you had the chance.

"Young miss Hopper. Right on time. Nice to meet you, I'm Flo. And I hope that you don't have your uncle's habits. I'll go with you through the paperwork today, honey." - She got off the table, waving at you to follow her. You furrowed while you tried to actually breathe. Jim's habits? What the... - "So you still study the academy, right?"

"Yes, yes I do." - You nodded and walked into the office full of policemen chilling around. One was playing solitaire, another one was just smoking. They were in blue shirts. Does that mean that you'll have to give Hopper's shirt back? You hoped not. Flo made you sit behind a table, sitting next to you.

"Alright, were you eighteen, love? I need to know since you'll be possessing a gun." - She asked and put her glasses on. Flo really knew what was up - she helped you with completing the paperwork that needed to be archived, the paperwork that she needed to send to your academy - and she was also angry that you're practically underage. You knew that you'll have a full-time job here along with the studies and even tho, it was scribed off as a practicum.

If you were a good cop? Flo didn't actually care a single bit since you weren't 21. But you could possess a gun, you got your own registration number and they will make your own identification card. Then it was the time to talk to the new police chief - mister Stanford. He wasn't there for too long, yet they told you that Standford is a fair and normal guy.

It was a slim man with short brown hair, glasses and a good physique. He looked kind but strict - you liked those types. They made you do your work, but they still were nice to you somehow.

"Miss Hopper." - You smiled at him, a bit sorry about your outfit. Flo brought him a black coffee and she made you a tea, so you slowly sipped from your cup.

"Freddy Stanford. A pleasure to meet you, miss Hopper. Jim was very proud of you." - He leaned back to his chair and put his pen next to his notepad. - "No matter what they say, Jim was a good guy and a good boss. I heard correctly, he was your inspiration to study police academy?"

"Yes sir, he was. Jim and I were very close and I loved the idea of helping him out one day since the very first summer I saw him working here." - You nodded with a small smile. That was the truth - Jim wasn't always a chief, but since he was, you knew you wanted to be there.

"Getting on a police academy in your eighteen, right after finishing high school? That's very impressive. Want to tell me something about that?"

"I just... Worked hard and studied. The truth is that my family background isn't the happiest, so it was the motivation as well, sir. And I think that Hopper sent them a letter too..." - You said quietly a motioned your hand. Yeah. Hopper did his best to help you with getting to the school. But there was another story - your father and your mother. You never wanted to visit them ever fucking again.

"Still, it's very unusual. You're only nineteen, miss Hopper and you were named a deputy. That's a big responsibility. Are you sure that you can work on such a position?" - Stanford asked you seriously. He had a point - being his deputy was a serious job. You had to be there on time, you needed to do what you'll be asked and you will have to be able to do teamwork and solo when needed.

It could be too much for a nineteen-year-old.

"With all the respect to Hopper, and with all the respect to you... I am not overly fond of having you as my deputy. I do trust that Hopper had all five together, but he obviously didn't count on dying so young." - Stanford caught your hand to his palm when you looked at him, biting your lips nervously. You felt the urge to cry, so you gulped it down.

"I took this opportunity to show my respect to my uncle, sir. I want to do this job, it... This means everything to me right now. Trust me that I'll do my best and I'll ace all the subjects at the academy, sir." - You took your hand out of his, sitting straight.

"I see and I respect your decision since you have the permit from your academy and we saw the document Jim wrote. Right now, you look just like your uncle, miss Hopper. You really can't deny your family genes." - Stanford chuckled. That made you smile again and it made the urge to cry go away. - "But let's seal a deal. Before finishing your studies, you'll be working mainly on administrative, like documents and etc. I don't want you near any dangerous or life-threatening event, alright? After that, we can talk about it again."

You nodded. There was an office full of policemen. And if your chief's wish was to keep you at the office, you couldn't really protest. You were good at shooting and your hand-to-hand combat wasn't the worst, but orders were orders.

"I have a question, sir..." - You leaned in and pointed at your uncle's shirt. - "Can I have it on? It's the last thing that is remaining me after he's gone. If it's violating the codex in any way, I will leave it home." - You asked in a tight voice and Stanford took a deep breath in. It was the sheriff's shirt, yeah, but on the other hand, he knew it has emotional importance for you to have it on you when you'll be working. It will mean that you remember Hopper. And Stanford found it important and nice.

"You can keep it. It is unusual, but I would say that this whole situation is, right?" - He smiled and sipped on his coffee. Then you gave him Hopper's badge. It was the golden one he had on his shirt while he took every single photo in his uniform with you. You had a collection of Polaroids with Hopper, big photos and small ones. And you were almost hysterical when he didn't want to put his damn shirt on.

"That's his badge?" - Stanford took it between his fingers, watching it intensely. He took a deep breath. - "Keep it too. It will be our secret - you can have it at home, but you won't wear it." - He truly was a kind man. Or at least to you and at the moment. You nodded and the first tear fell off your eye. You couldn't express your appreciation out loud - they let you take the position Hopper always dreamed of you to have, they let you have and use his stuff, you felt... Grateful, to say at last.

The first few days... Maybe even weeks were seriously about paperwork and paperwork only. Just as Stanford told you. Flo were glad that you at actual food - not only donuts and that you didn't smoke indoors, so she gladly made you coffee.

Over the time the other policemen acknowledged you as well - there was Anderson, who was a serious cop to say at least and he took you completely serious with you as well, sometimes helping you with correcting the old files and papers. Then you had Cooper, the one who was playing solitaire all the time. He was a funny one. The last one was a young cop as well. His name was Franklin. It was nice to see them taking you completely serious, to respect you as another Hopper continuing with the occupation.

In the morning Flo always made you a cup of coffee and you worked on the files you left on the desk, Jim’s old cases that needed to be administrated, slowly getting into the year 1983. You held the file in your fingers for a while - it was the infamous Byers file.

You knew what was going on. It was a weird case to say at least. Hopper never actually told you what happened to Will, he was always mysterious when you asked. The only thing you knew was that the Byers case was a case that shook the whole Hawkins, definitely turning it upside down. A missing kid. And there was definitely more than what the papers said. It said that they actually found his dead, drowned body nearby Hawkins which seemed... Surreal to say at least. You went through the papers with a frown before you got to the last one. There was a short sentence written down with a red marker - Do NOT trust them. It is a lie

You put it back onto the table, resting your head to your entwined fingers. Who could know what happened? Joyce? No, she won't tell you anything since it happened to her own son. Jonathan? No, he didn't even tell you what happened to Jim.

Maybe you could ask Nancy or Steve. Yeah. When you're done with that day's work, you should go to Wheeler's. So you put the file away and went to police archives to search for Wheeler's household number. You impatiently drummed your fingers when your phone called the number.

Nobody picked up for at least a minute.

"Karen Wheeler on the phone?" - Woman's voice freaked you the fuck out all of a sudden. You looked away, facing the window to look outside on the rainy weather.

"Hello, Mrs. Wheeler. It's Y/N Hopper." - You told her slowly.

"Oh, I see. Hi, Y/N. What do you need? Something happened to my kids?" - She asked horrifiedly. Yeah. The news spread quickly since everyone knew almost everybody in the town. So young Hopper being back in the town and now is a cop? Every single soul was aware in your first week there.

"No. Not at all. I just... Eh... This is kinda awkward. I was just thinking if I can have a sleepover at your place? I'm all alone in that cabin for weeks and I haven't talked to Nance since I came." - You mumbled. Your eyes were still glued to the papers in the file - there was Will Byers's photo, they tried to send Joyce to a psychiatrist, there was a lot of shit to go through.

"Okay? Okay. Sure, yeah, you can sleep at our place. I'll be glad to see you after all those years. I can prepare that chicken you always loved so much." - Karen said excitedly. You were at Karen's and Ted's sometimes as well when you were young and Nancy wanted you to stay the night. It didn't happen that much, you were hanging out more at Jim's and Joyce's, but Karen was always nice to you as well.

And yeah, you loved her chicken with honey. He was a great cook and a good mom.

"I'll come around eight? Can I?" - You asked and scratches the back of your neck. Karen just laughed lightly, just as she used to normally, and told you yes. Then she hung up on you.

The kid who got missing in the woods. That was the first time you secretly took papers from your work without your boss knowing. And you didn't have an idea that it certainly isn't the last time you're doing that.

#jim hopper #Stranger Things #stranger things netflix #after season 3 #nancy wheeler #karen wheeler #willl byers #the zombie boy #hawkins indiana #netflix #steve harrington x hopper!reader #hello #it is me again

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floridaboiler · 6 years

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Today is the anniversary of D-Day. A day we should think of and remember what the Allied forces did and why they did it. We should be remembering REAL heroes for their selfless sacrifices made in the interest of others. The young men and women who stormed the beaches, dropped from the skies, fought in the clouds, and cared for the wounded. Real Heroes. Like Major Richard Winters, of E Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. The group came to be known as Easy Company. The unit experienced heavy turnover because of battlefield casualties. One Easy Company soldier later wrote that among his colleagues, the Purple Heart "was not a decoration but a badge of office." Maj. Winters graduated from Franklin and Marshall College in 1941 before enlisting in the Army. He was selected to attend officer candidates' school, earned a commission in the summer of 1942 and then - drawn by the promise of extra pay for hazardous duty - volunteered to join a newly formed paratrooper unit. Of about 500 officers who volunteered to join the elite unit, only 148 made the cut. Maj. Winters excelled as a infantry leader and a paratrooper and became a hallowed figure among his men for his "follow me" attitude. He received the military's second-highest decoration for valor, the Distinguished Service Cross, for his actions on D-Day. That morning, after landing and untangling from his parachute, Maj. Winters gathered a small group of men for a raid on German cannon emplacements near Brecourt Manor. Guarded by a platoon of 50 German sentries, the heavily fortified battery had been firing on Utah Beach, causing significant casualties and slowing the Allied advance. In their assault of the position, Maj. Winters and his men killed 15 German soldiers and took 12 as prisoners. Maj. Winters and his men destroyed three German cannons and completed the action with near-textbook efficiency.The assault Maj. Winters led on those fixed positions is still taught today in our military academies. Throughout the war, Maj. Winters's leadership skills earned him commendations and promotions. He served as Easy Company's commander and was promoted to lead the 506th Regiment's 2nd Battalion, which included Easy Company. Maj. Winters and his men eventually saw the end of the European campaign while occupying Adolf Hitler's mountainside retreat, the Eagle's Nest, nestled in the Alps above Berchtesgaden. They celebrated by drinking champagne from the Fuhrer's 10,000-bottle cellar. Late in the war, one of Maj. Winters's soldiers, Floyd Talbert, wrote him a letter from an Indiana hospital, thanking him for his loyalty and leadership. "You are loved and will never be forgotten by any soldier that ever served under you," Talbert wrote. "I would follow you into hell." One of the most harrowing experiences of his military service came in late April 1945. The men of Easy Company discovered a German working camp near Landsberg that was part of the Dachau concentration camp. Maj. Winters found wheels of cheese piled in a nearby cellar and ordered that the nourishment be distributed among the inmates. "The memory of starved, dazed men who dropped their eyes and heads when we looked at them through the chain-link fence, in the same manner that a beaten, mistreated dog would cringe, leaves feelings that cannot be described and will not be forgotten," Maj. Winters wrote of the experience. "The impact of seeing those people behind that fence left me saying, only to myself, 'Now I know why I am here.'" Richard Davis Winters was born Jan. 21, 1918, in Lancaster, PA. He died on January 2, 2011, in Hershey, PA. THANK YOU Major Winters and all of those whose lives changed forever on that day in the name of freedom.

#dday74 #dday #d day #airborne #normandy #wwii #ww2

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tinytanpopo · 6 years

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So I’ve been playing around with the EarthBound Randomizer.

This looks normal.

Ready for adventure!

Little do Jeff(?) and Ranboob(!) know, they’re headed straight for a softlock.

Because this is Keysanity mode. Key items have been shuffled, and you have PSI Teleport with all locations open from the start. In this seed, I got the Diamond early, but used it to free the Runaway Five before gaining access to the mole cave, locking me out of the Jar of Fly honey.

Apparently, Boogey Tent will always have fly honey, but Keysanity fucks with event flags too much for it to appear, even if you try to play as vanilla as possible.

After two botched attempts, I figured out a path to victory:

-Teleport to Summers, get high on Magic Cake. Complete Mu Training to get a full party.

-Turn the lights on in Onett.

-Don’t free the Runaway Five from Fourside before unlocking the mole cave, or you just won’t get a mole cave

-It’s the third strongest softlock

- Don’t let Paula get kidnapped in Fourside until Threed is free from zombies. Because if you clear the Monotoli building before un-zombifying Threed, the Runaway Five tour bus will hit ghost-filled tunnels coming the other direction, and they’re not loud enough to scare away the ghosts

-The ghosts will drag you to Threed, taking the tour bus in the process. Oh and you’ll be invisible. The ghosts ate you. You’re dead now. You can still move and interact with things, but the tour bus music won’t stop playing, and you can’t teleport. The only 2 ways out of zombie Threed are having Jeff fix the Sky Runner, or following the vanilla path to Jeff’s introduction. But...

-Don’t do Jeff’s solo adventure in Winters, you’ll be stuck in Andonuts’s lab forever

-Dr. Andonuts won’t stop talking about his imaginary caveman friend. send help

-Anyways try not to softlock, gather key items, complete sanctuaries as they become available

-Find the Hawk eye. Then do the Pyramid, have Poo leave for training. Teleport to Deep Darkness, light it up, get Poo back the usual way. Now the party should stay full for the rest of the game, besides Magicant of course.

On the victory path, you’ll have Poo for most of the game.

Or in this case, an adorable monkey prince.

I thought I screwed myself near the end of the third attempt, because Pirkle had the Meteorite piece needed to beat the game, but I did Magicant and had Onett get invaded before dealing with the Sharks. Luckily another Meteorite piece is always at the top of the hill as well.

So I finally clanked my way to the end. Pokey seemed happy enough.

Until he turned into the teeth meme, at least.

Nice try, Randomizer. No one’s gonna recognize text from that far into FFVII. Everyone stopped at “this guy are sick” and called it a day!!

Anyhow I won.

I won so well, I only trashed one of the robots.

Unfortunately it was the Temp taking Jeff’s place. See the ghost? That’s him.

OH WELL FUN ADVENTURE GREAT MEMORIES AM I RIGHT? I eventually stopped needing to buy armor because I found all the best stuff in randomized gift boxes.

I feel like I fought way fewer battles than I would have on a normal playthrough. And the party still finished on average end-game levels.

Last statistic made me laugh. It’s like the bonk counter in the ALTTP randomizer.

I also found the Gutsy bat just sitting in a present somewhere. Probably helped with the damage total.

Technical info, in case anyone wants to play the same seed. Also the randomizer is good, you should try it. And remember:

Additional stats:

-Never officially rescued Paula, or got the Franklin Badge

-Never broke up the cult of Happy-Happyism

-Never locked horns with Everdred, or paid the Runaway Five’s debt in Twoson

-Never entered Dungeon Man

-Never crashed the Sky Runner

-Ordered 2 Pizzas

and best of all...

-I never dealt with the Sharks, BUT I BEAT THE SHIT OUTTA THE COPS

#eb randomizer #eb keysanity #earthbound #mother

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japaniakwrites · 6 years

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The Thunderstorm

The night before Hael Cohen slapped Macy Zimmerman across her face and drew blood, a spring storm rolled in from the prairie far beyond the lakeshore suburbs. Thunder clapped a half-mile from the house and rattled the windows in all the bedrooms. Hael crawled into her sister’s bed. Nothing else could harm her there, and she and Salem protected each other the way they always had.

Hael knew the sound she made against Macy’s face must have been similar. Blood surfaced on her cheek where there had been four fingernails, the skin screaming red under her hand. Macy may have yelled, since her mouth opened wide as she covered her cheek in shock.

Hael had no remorse about it. Not even as Coach Franklin yanked Salem off of Kate Gutierrez or pulled Hael away with a more delicate hand and led all four of them to the principal’s office. Macy glared at her from the other side of Coach Franklin’s wide, dark blue pullover. Hael stared blankly back at her.

It was a slow-burning kind of torment that led Hael to leave her handprint on Macy’s face. Back in August, they were assigned to the same homeroom, science class and American history class, plus the same lunch period. Being paired with the same groups of students for that many periods was common, but Macy and Kate took an immediate, morbid fascination with Hael.

At first, Hael had wondered if it was her hair. The way her wiry blonde curls stuck out in all directions was something she embraced, but it didn’t match the way most of the girls at school straightened their hair. Macy even regularly asked if she straightened it when she thought Hael wouldn’t notice she meant it mockingly. Other possible causes crossed her mind as well: Her last name couldn’t be more Jewish, she knew she talked strangely compared to everyone else, and she had erroneously spent the first few weeks of school in the special education class even though she didn’t need it.

The real reason struck her when Kate told something to Macy at lunch one day, covering her hand so Hael couldn’t read their lips. The biggest reason was because they thought she couldn’t understand them at all.

Hael navigated the world through a combination of lip-reading and speech therapy, plus the occasional help of a sign language interpreter. It didn’t take long for Hael to realize then that Kate and Macy had probably been talking about her behind her back since the beginning of the year, asking her questions and then stepping away to laugh about how she answered them.

Hael was frustrated enough a few times to cry in the arms of her mother, father or Salem, but she mostly had put up with the torment until the day she struck Macy.

That day, she was already staying at school late, helping paint a mural in the hall outside the gym while Salem was at figure skating practice across the street. She had noticed Macy and Kate watching her from further down the hall, staring at her as they spoke, mouths covered again.

At the time, Hael had just sighed, shook her head and reached for the bucket of orange paint from her spot on the hole-mottled tarp. There were three other students and the art club supervisor working on the mural, and the girls wouldn’t bother her while they were all there painting a scene of a firebird rising from out of the concrete blocks.

She could lose herself in the design she made and watch it come to life for a while. She did it every time. The phoenix always rose in front of her, spitting embers as it fluttered its wings in flight from the caldera of a stirring, dormant volcano. From the ashes in its wake would come the first verdant blossoms of the new spring, gasping as they finally found the sun and bloomed pink and gold and blue.

Still, even after the firebird was freed from its volcanic prison and most other members of the art club had gone home for the day, she could see both girls standing there with their gladiator sandals and Louis Vuitton handbags, watching her. She thought she had seen the word ‘retarded’ pass Kate’s lips at one point--a word Kate drizzled into her vocabulary as liberally as she did ranch dressing on pizza. The rest of the conversation was lost. Hael was paying more mind to picking up the tarp and leftover brushes, plus the prospect of catching Salem in her last few minutes of practice.

The tarp dragged across the floor like the beige train of a wedding dress when Hael carried it and the brushes toward the bathroom next to the gym. Ignore them, her father had said to her a few months ago. A lion would only regret getting involved in the affairs of the sheep that jumped on it while it slept. Her orange- and red-stained paint brushes required more attention. She rounded the corner toward the girls’ bathroom.

The tarp flew over her head and she felt someone shove their hands hard between her shoulder blades. Hael stumbled forward, shouting in surprise. There was cold, hard tile beneath her and the tarp, plus a firecracker of pain whistling through her elbows after she landed on them. The lights beyond the holes of the tarp went black. ----- It will be a sunny Thursday in October when Hael Cohen, in her freshman year at the Savannah College of Art and Design, sees a group of students signing to each other on a bench outside Haymans Hall. What friends she’ll have made already won’t know how to sign, but they all like old anime and Mexican restaurants, so she’ll decide to stick around. Still, she will think it would be nice to have friends who could sign, who wouldn’t eventually ask why she talks that way, who will understand what it means to feel like you’re looking at the crowded world from the outside.

She will stroll over to them with her tote bag of notebooks as they talk about a professor named Pulaski and introduce herself, asking if they live near campus and smiling with excitement and hope rising in her chest. One of the girls will start to introduce herself as Gina and tell Hael where she lives, but she’ll be stopped short.

One of the boys, one with dark hair and glasses, will ask with a serious look on his face, “Are you Deaf or hard of hearing?”

Hael looks at him nervously, wondering if he’s boring a hole into her soul through the dark blue of her eyes. “Hard of hearing,” she finally answers.

The boy will glare at her like she’s stolen money from him. “Sorry. Deaf only.”

Gina’s eyebrows will furrow. “Xavi, she could join us...”

“No.” Xavi will glare at Hael even more. “We’re Deaf only.”

Speechless, Hael will walk away alone, trying to swallow the rapidly forming lump in her throat. She suddenly will find part of herself wishing that she couldn’t hear the thunder clapping outside her window as a child, or even the still-muted distilled sound of her sister screaming after she won the right to compete in the ISU Junior Grand Prix at fourteen years old. She will have only read horror stories about this before, of the death threats sent to deaf musicians or debate about whether the hard-of-hearing should marry hearing people or deaf people, but none of them will ever like more than a thunderstorm beyond a distant hill until that moment.

That will be before Gina gets on her bike and tracks Hael down to see her again. ----- There was an invisible badge of honor Hael wore at school on the breast of her pastel-colored cardigans--one that she had earned for being surprisingly sharp-tongued. Yet, as she sat on the floor in the inky black of the bathroom, frantically texting Salem with her phone gasping on 2% of its battery, she wept. Macy and Kate had made fun of her before, and she had always just insulted them right back and called them things like “horse face and rat face,” but it had never gotten physical.

‘Please come to the bathroom by the gym. Macy and Kate shoved me in here and I can’t find the light.’

Sent.

‘I’ll be there in 2 minutes.’

The rough fabric of the tarp pooled around Hael’s legs as she stood, knees trembling. She sobbed again, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her pink cardigan.

A small, red-hot spark of rage smoldered in her chest. Hael had never fought anyone before, but she figured now was as good of a first time as any. She knew she’d get in trouble. She didn’t care.

Reaching through the pitch, Hael found the concrete wall. Running her hand slowly along, she felt a blast of warm air on her forearm--the hand dryer. A few inches to the right were the sinks, the top of the trough above the faucets flecked with pools of cold water and spilled foam soap. Then there was more concrete wall as she crept along, knowing the tarp was nearby and not wanting to worsen things by tripping over it.

Hael felt the plastic of the light switch beneath her fingertips. She fumbled with it for a second before flipping it upward, illuminating the room. Then, the door swung inward.

There Salem was, still breathing hard and with a lone pinball of sweat trekking from her dark brown bob down her temple from two hours of practicing her free skate. Hael hugged her anyway.

“Are you hurt?” Salem signed, pursing her lips.

“Not physically,” Hael answered, looking away. “I landed on my elbows, but it doesn’t really hurt. I wouldn’t mind getting back at those two though.”

“I’ll take care of them--”

Hael shook her head and grabbed Salem’s arm. “Let me have a swing at one of them.”

Salem looked at her for one second, then another. “Hael, you’ll get in trouble if you do that.”

“I know,” Hael replied. “I’m okay with that. They’ve been bothering me all year because they think I’m weaker than them. I need to prove to them I’m not, even if it means I get in trouble.”

Concern colored Salem’s brown eyes. Finally, she said, “Okay. But you shouldn’t have to prove anything.”

Even though Salem still smelled a little like sweat and felt sticky, Hael welcomed the next long hug from her sister. Salem was growing taller and faster than Hael and was the strongest girl she knew. She pulled the door open with one hand and looked back at Hael as they set out to deliver justice. The tarp and brushes could wait.

#original fiction #hael #creative writing #prose #drama

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rolandfontana · 5 years

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Can Acknowledging U.S. Racism Transform Police-Community Relations?

It’s no secret that America’s most disadvantaged communities have long had troubled relationships, at best, with their local police. But when the Urban Institute shared just how negatively six U.S. communities with the lowest income and highest crime levels felt about their respective police forces, some jaws dropped among police brass attending a Tuesday conference at John Jay College.

Half of over 6,300 households responding to the survey said they believe that police act according to their personal prejudices, according to Jesse Jannetta, Senior Policy Fellow at the Urban Institute.

The poll also revealed that just 24 percent of respondents believed that the police are honest; the same low percentage believed that departments hold officers accountable for inappropriate conduct.

Finally, a mere 30 percent believed their local police treat people with dignity and respect.

The Urban Institute worked with the National Network for Safe Communities, the Center for Policing Equity, and Yale Law School to conduct the research, under the direction of the National Initiative for Community Trust and Justice.

While jarring to some, the report’s initial findings were painfully obvious to the communities involved in the survey. This is because the fear of police runs generations deep, Andrea Blackman, a key facilitator of community relations trainings for police recruits in Nashville, Tn., told the conference.

“It’s easy for us to talk about trauma and oppression as they relate to slavery, or a chattel system, or a caste system,” she said. “But when we think about policing in 2019, those words still have to be just as impactful.”

Both Jannetta and Blackman spoke during the first session of a live-streamed three-hour symposium entitled, “Police-Community Reconciliation: Healing the Harm of Racialized Policing.”

The National Network for Safe Communities used the symposium to introduce what it called a “Police-Community Reconciliation Initiative” aimed at addressing what many policing scholars have called a crisis of legitimacy that has fractured relations between police and minorities in many communities across America.

A Georgia Lynching

But perhaps the story that best framed the ideas of the symposium was the family history of Evan Lewis.

A Chicago native who is currently an education and community development consultant in western Massachusetts, Lewis is the great-grandson of Lent Shaw, a relatively prosperous black sharecropper who was lynched in 1936 in Colbert, GA.

Shaw had purchased a plot of land from a white neighbor who died shortly thereafter, but the neighbor’s sons were determined to get it back and began harassing him. Shaw was eventually arrested on a charge of attempting to rape Ola Franklin, a local 18-year old white woman.

Lent Shaw, a prosperous Georgia sharecropper was lynched by a white mob in 1936. Photo courtesy Shaw family.

After a blurry series of events including an attempted jail break-in by a 150-person mob and three mysterious bullet wounds Shaw received while in police custody, he was dragged from jail, hung, and castrated, and his body was riddled with bullets.

Among the lynch mob was a police officer who later became the chief of police in Colbert.

The mob warned Shaw’s widow and eleven children that if they did not leave Georgia, the same violence would befall them. They fled to Chicago, where Lewis grew up. But the memories still seared his family.

When Lewis was admitted to Georgia’s Morehouse College, his great-aunt told him that Morehouse was not an option for him.

“[She explained that] Georgia is not an option for our family—that is the sort of legacy that historical terror has on families and on individuals,” he recalled, noting that his family history made him skeptical of reconciliation with law enforcement.

.“I don’t quite know what reconciliation means for me, how it would impact me, how it would impact my family,” he said. “But I do know that in order for it to have an impact and real true meaning, and for there to be reconciliation, there has to be truth-telling. There has to be honesty.

“As is often the case, when you start telling the truth, you might solve one problem, but you are often times creating ten more. So we have to summon the resolve and muster the strength and courage not just to speak to the historical and present harms, but also to deal with what is surely coming after that.”

Reconciliation, How?

David Kennedy, director of the NNSC and a John Jay College professor, said it was important to concretely define what reconciliation might look like in practice.

“[T]here is a probably quite surprising number of leaders, executives, and agencies who are quite committed to doing [reconciliation] work, and they begin with a commitment to reform,” he said.

“They broadly agree that we’ve been over-policing and under-protecting. We’ve locked too many people up. They’re organized against mass incarceration and doing all sorts of things that we can bloodlessly lump together under policy and practice reform.”

But Kennedy said that was still not enough to repair the historic harm done to minority communities.

“Changing things because one is in a position of power and privilege, and has changed one’s mind, and is making a unilateral decision to do something differently, does not respect what we’re talking about,” he said.

David Kennedy

“It does not respect the historic experience of damaged peoples, honor the unspeakable harm that that [it] represents, or recognize what [those experiences] mean for the way they look at [police] on the job today.”

The panelists collectively argued that policy and practice reforms, like the elimination of New York Police Department’s controversial stop-question-and frisk strategies, must be supplemented by a willingness to build personal relationships through active listening and direct acknowledgement of past harm.

“There has to be an opportunity for those who have been harmed to speak to their experience and be heard,” Kennedy said. “Folks with power, privilege, and standing tend to go into those kinds of engagements knowing what they think and what they’ve heard.

“They go very quickly to, ‘here’s my reaction, and here’s my plan.’”

The Voice of a Chief

Eric Jones, Chief of Police in Stockton, CA, one of four panelists in the third session of the symposium, agreed with the first panel that box-checking rituals of town halls and policy tinkering are not sufficient to forge long-term, strong police-community relationships.

Stockton is one of the six pilot communities identified by the National Initiative for Community Trust and Justice to focus on developing a stronger community culture of procedural justice and understanding of the effects of implicit bias and historical traumas on police-community relations.

In 2015, it was one of the lowest-income communities in America, and suffered from one of the nation’s highest crime rates, according to the Urban Institute’s report.

Explaining that the Stockton Police Department has been working on the importance of community relations for years and searching to build relationships in new and better ways, Jones emphasized how much the National Initiative’s reconciliation approach has benefited their efforts.

“We had had town halls. We will continue to have town halls—very important, large neighborhood meetings. But I think we all know that real solutions don’t typically come out of those meetings; nor are everybody’s voices truly heard in a meaningful way.”

Jones said that police also needed to acknowledge the systematic racial harm experienced by African Americans.

“Even though much of this happened a long time ago, in the scope of things it wasn’t that long ago,” he said.

“But we in law enforcement have to at least acknowledge those facts, because then, I’ve found, it breaks open actual real, true dialogue. We’re able to now develop this new space where we can have these conversations and talk about race relations head-on.

Even though Stockton police officers had no role in past injustices, he wanted his rank-and-file to understand that the “police badge, whatever shape it is, still holds that history that needs to at least be acknowledged. “

Jones said he was now training himself to “do active listening, really hear.”

As a result, he said, “We’ve really learned the connection between gun violence intervention, reducing violent crime, and trust.”

Jones’ version of how his department had changed was corroborated by Tashante McCoy-Ham, founder of the OWL Movement and a member of the Stockton Community Policy Review Committee.

“Chief [Jones] literally sat there and listened,” she said. “It was totally different from what the perception of policing and police experiences are supposed to look like.”

She added: “Those who were brave enough to put their best foot forward, to be a part of the change, were literally able to see the results of that type of conversing between community members and law enforcement.

“It allowed many to develop a relationship that was ongoing and see one another as part of one community.”

Roman Gressier is a TCR news intern. Readers’ comments are welcome.

Can Acknowledging U.S. Racism Transform Police-Community Relations? syndicated from https://immigrationattorneyto.wordpress.com/

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abybweisse · 4 years

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In the end what will happen to Undertaker? As a shinigami it seems that he can't die again, at least until he will be forgiven for his suicide. His plans with RCiel can't be successful so... maybe will he be punished by the grim reaper dispatch? Or will he fight with Sebastian for OCiel and be defeated? (Like Claude in S2) Or will he continue to live as a deserter, forever grieving the loss of all his dear Phantomhives?

If he’s meant to be a strong parallel to Fassad/Locria of Mother3, then I would expect him to die... or at least to leave the human realm and never return again. Locria is the Magypsy who defies the others, changes their name to Fassad, gets manipulated by King Porky, and ends up being destroyed. Magypsies typically “die” by fading away, and it’s believed they might just leave that plane of existence for another one; they don’t really know what lies ahead for them, if anything does, they just know their time on Earth is over. In Locria/Fassad’s case, they slip on a banana peel (Fassad loves bananas) and fall off the top of the Lightning Tower. That’s “death” number one. Later, Fassad becomes a Fascinating Chimera of some sort, “upgraded” with musical instruments (horns, mostly). Before finally confronting King Porky face to face, Lucas confronts Fassad one last time; Fassad has an interpreter at this point, since they can now only “speak” in musical notes. Lucas and his pals fight Fassad until Fassad apparently cannot fight anymore. Fassad is tired of the struggles and is just thoroughly done with everything, then Fassad just sort of malfunctions and plummets into the underground sewer... never to be seen again. Undertaker could end up paralleling this by failing to “perfect” his bizarre doll of real Ciel... or by losing control of real Ciel. Whatever the exact details of his failure, he’d be angry, and he might finally give up, deciding that his actions in the human realm have become futile. There’s a chance he gets captured by the reaper association and taken back to their realm... and there’s also the chance he gets killed. Remember that a death scythe can cut through anything (except another death scythe). This could be carried out by a reaper or by Sebastian; recall how Eric told Sebastian to kill him with Alan’s death scythe in The Most Beautiful Death in the World. The other Magypsies simply faded away, as I mentioned above, so the other reapers might simply return to the reaper realm and leave the storyline. As much as it pains me, I have to admit that it would be fitting if Undertaker is destroyed... or at least captured, taken away, and punished — possibly destroyed — in the reaper realm.

If Undertaker’s “end” in the storyline is like his other Mother3 parallels, then he would get to live. Dr. Andonuts is the inventor of the Fascinating Chimera, and he lives... though his other big Black Butler parallel is Sieglinde. And Sieglinde might be the one who ends up paralleling Dr. Andonuts’ little victory over King Porky. So, she might also be the one who parallels Dr. Andonuts in surviving. Dr. Andonuts is also known for eating an donuts (donuts with red bean paste), and he offers them to Lucas. Just like how Undertaker likes to eat bone-shaped biscuits out of an urn, and he offers them to our earl. Also, if you go to Wikipedia and look up Ankou (a reaper from folklore), the first thing that pops up in the entry is this:

Then, if you click “red bean paste”, you get this...

...because another name for it is “anko”. I know this is slightly tangential, and I have older posts about it... but it makes me smile! 😃

Undertaker’s other major parallel in Mother3 is Nippolyte, the eccentric gravedigger and old friend of Lucas’ family. He’s the one who hands Lucas the Badge of Courage (aka the Franklin Badge), saying it belongs to Lucas’ father (Flint)... that it’s an heirloom that Flint has always “treasured”... and he entrusts Nippolyte to pass it over to Lucas. (Keep in mind that the mother, Hinawa, is dead. Flint is alive, but he is too distraught to do much of anything; he’s become a largely absentee father.) Nippolyte is a very odd fellow. When he holds Hinawa’s funeral, he makes the odd comment to Flint that it’s a double grave, so he’s already prepared a place for Flint. There’s a label on his shovel saying it’s top of the line; it says, “True connoisseurs know that this is the ultimate shovel of the highest quality." His house (in the cemetery) keeps getting burned down (like... 14 times?), so finally he puts a sign outside the boarded up ruins of his house that says “No visitors”. He takes care of a hidden garden at Osohe Castle, where he raises strange crops, like omelettes and ramen noodles. Oh, and Nippolyte has to destroy zombies that pop up in his graveyard from time to time.

Undertaker lets our earl hold onto his chain of mourning lockets, and he calls them his “treasure”; they include at least one mourning locket that would be considered a Phantomhive heirloom. The other parallels here are really funny. We’ve got Undertaker joking (or NOT joking) about getting our earl into one of his custom coffins. Keep in mind there are already graves for both of the twins, but neither one is buried there. Instead of a shovel, Undertaker has a scythe, but all of the reapers have gardening tools, and their death scythes are typically not actual scythes. The label on that shovel reminds me of how reapers like to boast that death scythes can cut through anything (though that’s not exactly true). We don’t know if any of Undertaker’s holdings have been burned down or anything (yet), but we know he eventually boarded up his funeral parlor. Also, Osohe Castle is the Mother3 parallel to Weston, and we know that Undertaker held a Midnight Tea Party in the private garden. Instead of unlikely crops of ramen noodles and omelettes... Undertaker had bizarre dolls pop out of the ground. Instead of having to destroy random zombies that pop up, Undertaker is creating them....

Well... Nippolyte survives, too.

So, what do I really think will happen to Undertaker? I think his chances of surviving are slim... but there is still a chance. If he lives, it would likely be for him to accept defeat... but also perhaps find some small victory to cling to.

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