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#how little are they going to use as an excuse to arrest people for protests
ambelle · 7 months
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I’ve talked vaguely about white liberals treatment of BW both in real life and in fandom spaces but I feel I should expand on that.
A while back a BW wrote an article about how BM are the white people of the black community. White people were offended and baffled and BM protested. The thing is it's very much true. BM, along with BW are oppressed under a system stacked against us (along with many other demographics), but because BW are women we are also oppressed by BM.
White liberals have the privilege to not have grown up in the hood like I did. So they can claim a world without cops wouldn't turn into open season on BW at the hands of BM. They can say gangs, drive-bys, and drug dealers aren't dangerous and BM shouldn't be prevented from doing it. But when I was little I couldn't use the playgrounds because drug dealers used them as a place to deal and recruit little boys. I couldn't go to the local skating rink because gangs would go there to fight and shoot it up. I had to play in the street with my friends because the MEN in the community were ruining spaces meant for children. Erasing safety in general actually. Not the white president, the men in the community. I can say systematic racism and the BM who did a random drive-by on my house and raped little girls were both oppressing me. Both are true.
But it's not true to the white liberals who have a complete blind spot when it comes to BW because they don't acknowledge we are women. They see us as strong unwavering aggressive machines. We make good allies but they don't need to help us because we are invincible duh. It's the "bw saved the day" shit after every election followed by them going right back to ignoring us the next day.
It's them ignoring all the crazy stats about violence against BW to whitesplain to us how abolishing the police is a great idea. The men harming us will simply stop if they know we don't even have someone we may call for help. Let's abolish the police because they harm BM and BM never do anything they should be arrested for including my rapist. He was simply a victim of white supremacy and I should have hugged him after like the strong mammy I was born to be. No need to talk about black femicide.
Basically, white liberals care about BM (because it's trendy not because they give a shit see ANTIFA), BW care about BM, BM care about BM, and no one gives a shit about BW. That's the reality
But white libs in fandoms are racist in a different way. They like to adopt the struggles of demographics that are oppressed in real life and apply it to white characters. It's why characters like Silco and Jinx are so appealing to them.
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(both trying to kill Zaunites here BTW)
Make no mistake If Silco were black fans would be holding them accountable same with Jinx. But they are white and they are (were) oppressed. That's literally a white liberal dream. They get to ignore the fact that Silco and Jinx are rich and they got rich by oppressing poor people and forcing children into child labor.
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(that Zaunite teen boy died not that anyone cares. )
They get to weaponize classism to excuse the violence and murder they commit against other poor people. Who cares how many orphans he creates or how many poor children he tries to murder.
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Mind you not only was Silco rich off the backs of poor people and the labor of kids, he used the enforcers to help him not only oppress his own people but also frame Ekko (ironically a BM) and the Firelights for crimes he and Jinx were committing.
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Jinx who killed multiple Zaunites on purpose and tried to kill Ekko later on. Jinx who is rich and has no motive for the violence she commits. Jinx who is working for the man she KNOWS killed her father figure and tried to kill her siblings. Jinx who never once takes responsibility for any of the choices she makes. But she's white. It's why the fandom supports her hetero ship with Ekko (who they headcanon as being her emotional crutch). They only care about heteronormativity when there is a black woman they want to erase. No other straight pairing gets called "disgusting", "forced", "shoehorned", "a betrayal", or "immoral". Mel is forceful and aggressive. She's a seductress who manipulates Jayce into her bed and into doing her evil deeds.
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(He's clearly not into her at all)
He should be kissing Vik's ass and worshipping the ground he walks on. Speaking of Viktor ...him using tech for his own gains, secretly merging his DNA with the core, getting addicted to shimmer, killing a fellow Zaunite and converting up her death + stealing her notes is something no one will discuss.
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Because he's white , was once poor, and is "gay-coded". He's thus entitled to murdering a brown woman and entitled to Jayce's body. They weaponize LGBTQ+ rep in order to justify their racism much like the left does in real life.
Mel who shows no ill will towards Viktor is accused of being ableist and classist because she gave him a look when he was arguing with her. Mel who explains why she wants defensive weapons and has several scenes reiterating her motive is accused of wanting war and genocide.
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Mel who has exchanged flirty looks with Jayce every episode before she kisses him is accused of raping him. Mel who isn't at all a part of the Vander/Silco/Jinx shenanigans in ep 1 is blamed for the death of Jinx's family because she "controls the council" (even though they often vote against her and Heimerdinger gets a pass despite being there when the cities were founded). Because she's black and rich. Thus they can weaponize poverty in order to villainize BW.
They shout over the people who are actually oppressed. Over the people who know what it's like to have drug dealers and gangs make your life hell while the government does the same on a less personal scale.
This is what white liberals do. It's not new. I won't even get into the weird ass envy/hatred/lust thing they have for bw. The dehumanizing and hypersexualizing shit they do is a whole other essay.
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starmaiden777 · 1 year
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.....im tired
Link to the article
Makes me think that there are so many better ways to spread your message then shocking people in a public space and causing a panic... and getting yourself arrested. Of course sometimes there isnt a choice... but this isnt one of those cases.
This group needs to stop. There are so many more better ways to promote your cause.... that being said it's white activism at it's finest. But it only proves to infuriate me more rather than support these people.
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This kind of activism only inspires copycats, and people looking for a thrill, or people who actually wish to cause actual harm to things within the public eye, specifically things that are well loved or spoken or documented of.
And even if these pieces are replicas put out to protect the originals... this is such a waste of passion that could be redirected in other ways. The museums have already gone to lengths to keep their collections safe... they don't need protesters using them as their focal point. I said it once and i will say it again. Im so tired of people using the shock factor to get their way.
Especially with the digital age and promoting your voice on platforms bigger than yourself. It has been proven that having a positive impact will far outpace a negative impact with charities and organizations. But no. Once again, important topics and environmental emergencies are just written down to shock and awe.
I'll say this now, of course I care about the cause. I have little care for the organizations who keep doing this however. Yeah sure they hit where the money seems to be going... but are you really going to put it down to oil and oil paints? Really? How ingenious. Note the heavy sarcasm there.
I can't help but feel that this is just the excuse private collectors look for with art. They will argue that these pieces arent as safe as they could be in private collections. Which is bullshit because while a fair amount of people do tend to take care of private collections, they will just as often face neglect and destruction.
That's aside from the fact that they would be ON PRIVATE display. Unavailable to the public. Museums are for the purpose of public enjoyment and education. Not to mention inspiration. And before you say, well I could just look the painting up on the internet, yeah you could, but have you actually gone to a museum and compared a digital photo to a physical work of art?
You don't get the detail. You don't get the understanding of just what strokes were put to canvas or wood. There is something different of the clarity, and the vibrance, and rhe depth of color that you just can't quite capture on film without some form of enhancement.
You won't quite understand the time and effort and life that was put into the mastery behind these pieces of art.
So many masters pieces have been lost throughout the annals of time, likely never to be seen again.
We are VERY fortunate to have funders support their local or favorite museums. Fortunate to have passionate people who dedicate their life's work to preserving the quality of the art and restoring it if needs be.
These are masters pieces that are rich in history and time. And now it's not enough for regular museum security to do their jobs and protect and keep the reputations of these museums. Idk if theyre getting bought off or just... whatever... Personally I would rather keep a more optimistic view of people, especially when it is likely they have this job to put food on their table and keep themselves warm. But it happens. And now security will tighten, which means regulations will tighten, which means more restrictions from a public museum, which means a restriction on entertainment and education, which when you think about it, we all know who will get hit first from that.
So yeah. I support the idea of shutting down big polluting oil rigs. And i would gladly support these orgs if they weren't already shady as hell. But like said before. White privelaged stupid activism. There are so many better ways to promote yourself. Especially in the digital age.
Im just glad that they werent permanently damaged, because there has been so much history of intentional damage and theft in the art community. And then people come in boasting how they are experts in their field and ruin a piece further. Sorry... i was one of the people who actually cared about my art history class in high school.
Feel free to add anything below. And correct me if I am wrong. But if you do, please, be kind to other people. I don't want wars waging in my comments. I doubt this will circulate much but... here's to wishful thinking.
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Nick Amaro: Protest 
This technically is a pre-story to this but can be read as a standalone. Warnings: Slight mention of Sexual Assult  
Nick walked back into the bullpen as a herd of protesters were being led in. There had been a slut walk tonight. Hundreds of women had flocked to the streets to protest victim blaming and slut shaming. There had been a case of rape that had been all over the news where the police and media had been more concerned with the length of a victim’s skirt and how many drinks she had consumed than going after the big wig producer. Nick understood their frustration but didn’t see how a bunch of half-naked women walking down a Manhattan Street was going to help. With how hostile the case was going it seemed like asking for trouble at this point. 
Trouble had of course been found. A few men had protested the protest, three had been flashers running through the crowd exposing themselves, one being as bold as to rip down the protester's top. Now gaggles of girls were waiting in the lounge area to pick the assailants out of lineups. Nick notices a barely dressed girl hovering in the lobby. He downs half of his energy drink in one pull before going over to tell her to return to the lobby to wait. 
“Excuse me, are you here for the lineup-” Nick cuts off when you turn around and it takes him a moment longer than it should for his brain to register that it was you. He has known you for a couple of months now. You were a cute little thing. A part of the Crime Scene Unit. The two of you had talked and been around each other at various crime scenes. Nick liked you, you were sweet and funny if not a bit of an oversharer. Granted you seemed to like poking fun at yourself and your rather strange decisions that had some interesting fallout and it got people laughing. 
He is used to seeing you in a shapeless, oversized dark blue crime scene jumper. It takes his brain time to process the cute girl to the sexy woman in front of him. He couldn’t help the appreciative lingering glance. You were wearing high-heeled boots and a short skirt that he was at risk of flashing your underwear if you attempted to bend down or move too quickly and left a glorious amount of toned skin from your calves to upper midthigh on display. A sleeveless wide-dropped, white top that was barely covering your generous chest was only held together with a tie at the bottom snug under your breast struggling to keep them contained. Across your bare stomach written in red was #METOO. His jaw tightened as he wondered about the events that could have caused you to join.    
“Detective Amaro,” His dark eyes shoot up to yours as he focuses on your face. “Yes, I’m waiting on the lineup. All the crazy things always happen at the protests I swear, at least I’m not the one under arrest this time.” You grin self-indulgently. 
“You’ve been arrested at a protest?” He couldn't imagine you getting into any kind of trouble.  
“Once or twice. Charges were never filed.” You cross your arms over your chest, which causes your breasts to strain even more against your white top. The movement caught his gaze. Nick could just make out the lines of your hard nipples through your flimsy top. You seemed completely unaware of his heated gaze as you told him about being sprayed with a water hose and pepper spray, cuffed, and booked for a night while protesting the fracking of Indian land while you were in college. You thought they felt bad and that’s why they released you so easily. You had been pushed down and broken your nose giving you two gnarly black eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle when you stated that another woman who had been arrested with you spiritually healed and blessed you with sage-infused water in the cell you shared claiming it would help with the physical pain too. It hadn't. 
“Your college days and mine were very different.” You didn’t get a chance to answer as a cuff perp was walking in and saw you. He ogled you and whistled before being pushed into holding. Nick moved to stand in front of you defensively. You shift uncomfortably remembering that you didn’t have much on and suddenly feeling very exposed. You weren’t the type to flaunt your body. This protest had just called for you to go over the top and out of your normal tomboy zone. You feel the warmth over your shoulders and look back to see Nick wrapping his suit jacket around you.  
“Thank you,” You shrug further into it sliding your arm through the sleeves. The scent of his cologne musky with a spicy tinge overwhelms you. Nick is taller than you and the jacket hangs down nearly to your knees. You go to do up the button to completely cover yourself before remembering the red lettering on your stomach, you don’t want it to bleed onto his clothes. You feel his gaze on you. Nick felt something in him change when he saw you wearing his jacket. Lust pooled in his belly and he didn’t think he would ever be able to reconnect his mind with you just being the cute CSU girl who overshares again.  
“You can button that up if you want, I’m not worried about it.” You give him a grateful nod before buttoning the jacket. It helps cover the bare skin, but your chest is much larger than Nick’s and it stretches the fabric bunching it awkwardly, and your breasts are still falling out. 
“You can ask if you want detective.” He had led you over to his desk and you leaned against it. 
“You’ve been sexually assaulted.” You hum in response, “Did you ever press charges? We could file a report-” 
“That’s not necessary. It was years ago.” You play with a ring on your finger, twisting it. “It’s not like the cases you get here.” 
“Any sexual assault-” 
“Yeah, yeah I know the spiel.” You shake your head at him, “It wasn’t anything crazy. Just one incident in college. I was at a party and there was this drunk guy. I didn’t really know him or anything and he didn’t know me, clearly.” You laugh to yourself before rolling your eyes. Then turned back to look at Nick, “He cornered me and slid his hand down my pants. When I told him no, he didn’t listen. He was clearly drunk and thought I was too. I wasn’t. I only had one drink. What he didn’t know was that I had been wrestling since middle school and took kickboxing classes throughout high school.” You shrug your shoulder nonchalantly, “So, when I told him to stop again, and he didn’t I kneed him in the junk hard enough that he spit out blood.” 
“And then?” You start tugging at the jacket sleeve.  
“Then nothing. I got up and left. I was called into the office the next day. They gave me a choice if I didn’t report it as sexual harassment then I wouldn’t get in trouble for violence and underage drinking on campus.” 
“You get harassed, and they try to put the blame on you to get you not to report to save their school image.” You watch his frustration spike and grin at him. 
“You’re a good fit here. It’s nice to know that some cops are still on our side.” He calms down and feels great satisfaction at your praise. “Honestly though, I wasn’t planning on pressing charges. I think he got the picture. I kind of feel bad sometimes... about how hard I hit him. I wonder if he will ever be able to have kids now.” 
“I don’t think it will hurt the world if he doesn’t.” Nick sighed as he read your face. You seemed fine talking about what had happened and he was glad that you had been able to take care of yourself but your not reporting did bother him. You heard your name being called and saw Liv waving to you to do your lineup, so you stood. “Hey, do you want me to call someone for you? To take you home that is. Are you dating someone?” He feels the air pulled out of his sails when you respond. 
“Yeah, Teddy Jackson from homicide. No need to call him though. He’d be pissed if he found out I went to this protest. I don’t feel like another fight.” You give him one more smile before slipping out of his jacket and handing it back to him. “Thank you for the company though Detective Amaro.”     
This was supposed to be a short two-pager. Oh well, I have two more parts to this of Nick pining after you while you are with my made-up homicide detective. I have a notebook of ideas for Nick and I'm trying to get through them before I start up new ideas or they usually get trashed. Hope you enjoyed xoxo
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kaminocasey · 2 years
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Do You Hear the People Sing
Summary: You protest for Clones Rights and Fox has a hard time with it.
Pairing: Fox x afab!Reader
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Protesting, Riots, Violence, Angst
WC: 2.5K
A/N: I know that with everything going on, I've been feeling strongly. So, I tried to write something that kind of mirrors that? It's not exactly women's rights (Which I FIRMLY believe the clones would support), but it's something.
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The chants are deafening as the Coruscant Guard and CPD stand on the front steps of the Senate Dome as expected. The protesters stand there, below them, shouting, encouraging the guards to join them because this affects them too. You’re protesting for clones to be given rights. For them to not just be used as pawns for war. For them to not be slaves to the Republic. They deserved so much more than that.
Earlier that morning, you begged Fox to join you like always, knowing that if he joined, the other Coruscant Guards surely would, too. All he had said was that now was not the time to start something. Which was his excuse every single time. The Republic was losing their recent battles and it was a frail time for everyone… Clones, senators, and Jedi alike. Senators weren’t risking their lives for the Republic, though. Clones didn’t have the ‘Force’ to fall back on like the Jedi did. 
“What if you sit this one out?” He asked you, like always. 
You paused at the door, looking at him before telling him people were counting on you, which he knew. All he had done was sigh and turned around to pour his first cup of caf of the day after telling you to be careful. There was no kiss or “I love you”. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, though. You were running behind.
You’re at the front of the protest, covered so that you’re unrecognizable, in case things did head in a bad direction. Fox’s first helpful tip out of many. The day is going by peacefully enough, though. No violence has broken out, thankfully. Everyone in the group knows that this is to remain as peaceful as possible. There is no room for error here. 
You see Fox walk out of the Senate building, joining his brothers, saying something to Thorn before watching him looking out at the crowd. You know he’s searching for you. You wish you could send him a quick message that you’re alright, but your comm is at home so that if you get caught, they don’t have access to your comm. 
“You think Palpatine’s watching us from his cushy office?” Your friend Nell, asks you, amused. 
You nod. “Probably. If we can just even annoy him a little bit today…”
You both chuckle as you look up at the sky. You can tell it was going to rain soon. Hopefully, the weather will hold up for a couple hours. You’ve not held a protest in the rain, yet. You know that the Corrie guards hate being out in the rain. Fox had mentioned that it made their armor unbelievably uncomfortable. Not that Palpatine cared. It’s so painfully obvious that Chancellor Palpatine doesn’t give a shit about the clones. As long as they win his war, he couldn’t give two kriffs about the clones’ rights. 
Sometimes all you can do is hope that you’re making a difference and that the senators see you and hear you. Every now and then, the protests start to get a little rowdy and a CPD officer will get a little bold and start something. And every time, someone starts to take the bait, causing it to end in a riot. You’ve already been arrested twice. Actually, it’s how you met Fox. 
You’d been protesting with a smaller group and they said you’d incited violence, even though you hadn’t done anything but stand in front of the Senate Dome. That riot had only lasted a few hours. 
The last thing you’d expected was falling for one of the Coruscant guards. It was the last thing Fox expected to do, as well, falling for someone in a jail cell of all places. 
“Do you think you could give us water? Holding people here without basic necessities is a little extreme, don’t you think, pal?” You’d asked Fox. “You know, since you took our belongings and all…” 
He stopped walking to tilt his head at you. You stood your ground, crossing your arms as you’d stared him down. He sighed with a nod and walked away. When he returned, he’d brought everyone water along with food. You smiled at him, softly as he glanced at you before leaving. 
When you were arrested again, he’d done the same thing without even being asked. You smiled at him again and he nodded to you that time. Maybe he wasn’t so bad…
A few nights later after that, you’d been walking home from work at the nonprofit that you work at when you’d been stopped by a clone without his helmet. He’d had curly short hair with a gray patch and you somehow knew it was Commander Fox. 
“You’re walking alone at this time of night?” He asked you, clearly surprised. 
You smiled at him. “I always do.” 
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re obviously fearless.” He grinned.
You’d gotten a fluttery feeling in your stomach, seeing his smile. You couldn’t help but smile back. 
“Fox.” He extended his hand to you. 
You shook his hand and told him your name.
“Oh, I know. I couldn’t forget it even if I wanted to.” He winked. 
That was a year ago. You’d pretty much been together since. He reluctantly accepted that you were going to do what you wanted to do and he couldn’t stop you no matter how much he would try, only give you excellent tips on how to avoid getting caught and hurt. 
“Wait, do you hear that?” Another one of your friends stops you.
You both look around. It sounds like a distant rumble. Suddenly, there’s a deafening  explosion from behind the crowd. You all get down, but still try to look around at what caused it, only to find an office building on fire. It seemed like it came from the Dome’s direction but before you can piece it together, the Corrie guards along with CPD are starting to attack, throwing people down on the ground and arresting them for something they obviously didn’t do. A CPD officer starts to raise his baton to your friend, Amia, only steps away and you look up at Fox who’s clearly still trying to search for you. 
Forgive me, love, you think to yourself before pulling your goggles down over your eyes and running up to yank the officer’s baton from him and throw it away from the three of you. He starts to yank your bandana away from your face at the same time that he starts to bring a spray up. You quickly wrap your arm over his to force the spray down.
“Get out of here!” You quickly yell at Amia. 
She has fear in her eyes as she realizes what you’re doing for her. She nods and starts to disappear in the crowd. Adrenaline starts kicking in as you push the officer down to the ground. Only seconds later are you knocked down to the ground as well, looking up to find Fox hovering over you, ready to arrest you. 
“Wait!” You yell, pulling your goggles off. 
All he has to do is look into your eyes, recognizing you immediately. 
“Cyare… Maker…” He yanks you to your feet, grabbing your arm, firm enough that it doesn’t hurt but makes you know you’re not getting away. 
He starts pulling you out of the crowd, dragging you behind one of the large metal guard statues. He gently pushes you up against the concrete so that he can pull your bandana down and inspect you for injuries. You keep trying to pull away to look back at your friends as they fight against the CPD and Corrie guards. You feel terrible that you were pulled away from them when they needed you most. 
“I have to go back.” You try to push him away.
“Cyare, will you-” He tries to pull you back to him. “Please stand still.” 
You sigh, reluctantly letting him check you out. 
“Are you alright?” He asks you, searching you and feeling for tender spots. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” 
“Fox! Stop. I’m fine!” You push him away to peer around the statue so you can see the crowd. The tear gas was starting to be thrown out, causing more people to retreat. 
How did this even happen? You ask yourself at the same time that Fox asks you.
“That wasn’t us!” You tell him, angrily. 
You aren’t angry at him, but you are angry. Beyond angry. Your peaceful protest was turned into something violent… something hateful… something you’d tried so desperately to keep from happening. Something that would definitely keep your group pegged as violent terrorists. You know that explosion wasn’t from your group. 
“I believe you, cyare.” He gently pulls you back toward him. “Let’s get you away from here.”
He holds your hand and starts pulling you to the street so you can hail a cab when you hear Fox’s name being called. He pauses and then turns around to see who it is.
“Thorn.” He sighs with relief, stepping in front of you. 
“Where are you going?” Thorn asks him.
You’d met Thorn a handful of times at 79s when you’d go out with Fox. He’d always been kind to you. All of the Corrie guards that knew about you and Fox had. But right now, standing in front of Fox, Thorn seems irritated. Which is understandable seeing as how there was a large explosion and signs were pointing to your group as the culprit. 
“Taking her home and then I’ll be back. Cover for me.” Fox answers him, firmly.
Thorn glances at you behind Fox and then nods to Fox, telling him to be quick and then walks away. Fox’s shoulders relax as he walks you away from the chaos. 
When you finally catch a cab several blocks away, Fox tells the cabbie your address but you don’t get in the cab yet.
“I can take care of myself, Fox.” You tell him. 
“Of course you can. You always do, don’t you?” He spits.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You cross your arms.
He sighs, taking his helmet off and tucking it underneath his arm. You know he’s just worried, but you’re not in the mood now.
“There was an explosion and you want to run back into the crowd… without even caring how it would affect me if something were to happen to you.” He stares you down.
“I told you it wasn’t us.” You glare up at him.
“And I told you that I believed you. I’m not upset with you about that.” He snaps back.
“Then what?” You feel your brows furrowed in confusion and anger. 
You know your blood is still boiling because of the adrenaline. It would take you a while to calm down. Though, you’re not sure if you want to even calm down. Someone was trying to frame your group… you deserve to be angry.
He sighs, closing his eyes for a second before looking at you again. “I saw how you flung yourself at that officer. No care at all.”
You shrug. “He was going to hit Amia.”
You know from experience those batons hurt. That’s what they’re designed for, after all. You know that there’s no way that she wouldn’t have been hurt. She was smaller than you. 
Amia dates a clone from the 105th battalion. You think his name is Comet. She’s wild about him and passionate about the cause, much like yourself. She has a lot of heart. She and Comet deserve a happy life as much as you and Fox do. All clones, whether or not they’re with someone, deserve a happy life. You’ve explained this to Fox. He agrees, but he has a hard time looking past the part where you put yourself in danger sometimes.
“You cannot put yourself in harm's way like that, cyare…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You just can’t, okay? If something happened to you… I don’t know what I’d do if I… lost you.” 
You take his hand and squeeze it. How could you get him to understand that you were doing this for him… for the both of you, so that you could have a fighting chance at a real life together? 
“I’m sorry, Fox. I was careless… I know I was, but you know I can’t just stand by while someone is getting hurt.” You tell him, softly. “Amia needed me and I’m not going to apologize for that.”
He’s quiet, for a moment until the cabbie yells for you that the meter is running.
You turn toward Fox, looking up at him. “I guess-”
“I can’t keep doing this.” He sighs.
You roll your eyes. “I don’t need you to keep saving me-”
“Not that…” He looks away for a moment before looking back at you. “I can’t keep doing this.”
He gestures between the two of you. You feel your stomach drop and you just don’t understand. Your mouth goes dry and you feel suddenly lightheaded.
“Wh- what?” You manage to get out. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, Cya- I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I can’t keep watching you throw yourself in harm’s way like this. I mean, why do you insist on doing this?”
Your heart is starting to pound in your ears and you’re afraid you may pass out. Where was this coming from? How long has he felt like this?
“I’m doing this for your brothers, Fox.” You look up at him, tears starting to threaten to burn your eyes. “For you. For us.”
You try to take his free hand but he pulls it away from you. 
“I don’t want you to do this, okay?” He tells you. “I’ll be by your apartment tomorrow for my stuff… Now, please for the love of the Maker, get in that cab and go home.”
Without another word, he puts his helmet back on and goes back into the crowd to help his brothers. You stand there in shock. 
What just happened?
You only give yourself a second to be sad before deciding to ignore Fox’s request. Who did he think he was, telling you what to do after breaking up with you?
Looking up at the sky, seeing the incoming dark storm clouds, you know it’s about to rain and that would help with the teargas. It would blow back out away from the crowd. 
Putting your mask and goggles back on, you run back toward the crowd in the opposite way that Fox went. When you see a couple people from your group being detained aggressively by CPD, you jump on one of the officer’s backs, trying to get him away from one of your friends. It clearly takes him by surprise and he tries to fling you off of him. He grunts as he struggles against you. All of a sudden, you feel a surge of painful electricity sent throughout your body and you know right then that you’ve been stunned. You feel yourself slump to the ground right before everything goes black.
TAGS: @livi-s @studioramekin @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @wolveria @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @zoeykallus @501st-rexster
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gayforcarstairsgirls · 11 months
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I have to say that as I saw the events unfold over the seas (the coronation that cost an UNGODLY amount of money and the protesters that got arrested) I thought to myself “How is Ivy coping with this?”
So here is me asking you: How are you in the midst of this dumpsterfire?🥲🫶
Ashhh hi! Thank you for thinking of me in these trying times 🫡
Genuinely tho the mass arrest of so many protesters is so concerning, although sadly not surprising at all ever since our government introduced their harsher restrictions on protesters, which means they can basically just arrest anyone for protesting anything they don't like (stuff like "we want you to not let the planet burn", etc)
My thing with the royal family is that I think they're interesting to have around for the vibes and the drama (except when they start complaining about how hard it is to be royal because um excuse me, no 💖), but ultimately that is just SO MUCH MONEY, and they spend so much money in general it's obscene, and yes it's our right wing government that got us into this cost of living crisis in the first place but do the royals really need their designer clothes and the king's newly made gold coat thing that looked like a duvet when people literally can't heat their homes?? It's fucking cold in England Charles???
In summary although the coronation gave me an excuse to eat chocolate, it would have been nice to actually be able to have the heating on as it poured with rain outside for this historical event that cost us all a shit tonne of money :)
Can you tell I hate the government and that I am very concerned about the direction our democracy is going in when you can't even protest against the king - our unelected prime minister rocking up at that event all smiley as if he isn't actively trying to destroy our public services, villainise asylum seekers and demonise our unions made me want to punch him in his smug little money grabbing face
THE PLUS SIDE THO is that in our local elections a couple of days ago, the Conversative party lost over a thousand seats on local councils, they got absolutely thrashed it was fantastic, which bodes very well cause everyone has clearly had enough of them 😌
Ok political rant over- (thanks for giving me an outlet lol), how are you bestie? 🫶🫶
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evita-shelby · 1 year
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The Dinner Date
Modern au!tommy x eva ,takes place in 2019
My 100th tommy x eva one shot
Thanks @moral-terpitude for the idea of making it a modern au
Cw:mentions of the brexit protests in the uk and the nationwide protests and subsequent riots in mexico after mexico city police sexually assauleted two little girls
Gif by @compassgenius
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“So, you’re serious about her?” Ada asked looking over his shoulder before he stopped her from reading the messages.
He had been serious about Grace only to get burned. Tommy was hoping things with Eva will be better.
“I am. Which is why I want to make sure she is peer reviewed before I really commit.” Tommy knew his family already knew Eva and had befriended her, he just needed to see that it wasn’t that fake shit Grace had pulled off for almost a year.
“How about a double date with me and Freddie? If she’s serious she’ll survive it and if she isn’t, well you have an excuse to break up with her.” Ada suggests, as if it had worked last time.
“It sounds like a bad idea, little sister.” Tommy tries to shoot down the idea.
But it could work.
Grace had tried to have Freddie arrested for… well being himself after going out for drinks with them.
Greta had liked Freddie; in fact, they had met at some protest he invited them to.
And while he knew his new girlfriend was just as political as Greta, Tommy needed for her to not be a pearl clutching Tory.
Nor a narc who had even made a tindr to make sure she’d get his attention.
“Fine, how about this Friday evening. That one we went with Polly last month.” He relents.
The more elegant the restaurant the less likely there would be a problem.
“I’ll tell Freddie to his worse.” His sister smiled rather deviously.
“Have you seen the protests lately? It seems we might actually get shit done.” It is done on purpose; Ada has brought up almost every topic they could disagree on and Eva has passed with flying colors.
Now came the final one.
They are having dessert, if Eva survived the politics question, Tommy would marry her on the spot.
“As if that could get them off their arse,” Freddie scoffs.
“It does work, if you get them all to organize and vote for people who are willing to put in the work. I mean we voted out Peña Nieto and my country is just a few more assassinations away from being a total narco-state.” Eva cut her crème caramel with her fork.
“Yeah, sure, but that’s Mexico, here you can have all of the UK show up it’s not going to stop Parliament from voting yes for Brexit.” Freddie answers just as they had expected.
His friend was as socialist as they came, but he had as much faith in the system as Tommy had faith in the Christian God.
“Well then make yourself impossible to ignore and if they continue to ignore you then take justice in your hands.
You heard about the protests in my country, we we riot nationwide when policemen rape little girls and make the world fucking see there'sstrength in numbers. If it had been us, we wouldn’t have let the Big Ben unscathed or Buckingham Palace untagged.” Eva surprises them, usually a strong believer of reform and democracy, she apparently was pro-rioting.
“Says the one who ran away like a fucking coward.” Thorne makes the mistake of assuming the pretty rich girl in front of him is as harmless as she looks.
Eva may try to avoid violence and had the patience of a saint most of the time, but everyone has a tipping point.
Freddie had just found it.
Tommy barely managed to pull his girlfriend away just as she landed the first punch on Freddie’s right eye.
“Take that back, Thorne.” She snarled as Tommy did his best to keep her still.
“I fucking won’t, people like you can say they fight for the same thing as us but when things get hard you lot run away in your private jets. Just like you did.” Freddie held his glass to his eye and sat back.
She lunged again and this time security comes to put a stop to it.
---
“I told you it was a bad idea.” Tommy told his sister as they split the bill while Freddie and Eva waited in their cars.
“I know and we’re never doing this again.” Ada agreed. “We’re fucking lucky they didn’t call the police on them.”
“Brunch tomorrow?” he asked his sister who only nodded.
He is not surprised to have Eva apologize to him for ruining the date.
“Shouldn’t have let him get to me, Tom. I know he’s your friend and Ada’s husband, but its better if we don’t try this again.” The witch said surprising him.
“Again?” he had assumed she’d end things after a date like this.
“Despite what your oh so charming brother-in-law says, I am no quitter, Shelby.”
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opedguy · 1 year
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Protesters Storm Brazil Government
LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), Jan. 8, 2023.--One week after 77-year-old Lula da Silva was inaugurated Jan. 1 as Brazil’s president for the second time, supporters of 67-year-old former conservative President Jair Bolsonaro claimed the election was rigged, much like 76-year-old former President Donald Trump.  Unlike Jan. 6, 2021 when right wing groups stormed the U.S. Capitol, no elected Brazilian elected official claims protesters tried to overthrow the Brazilian government.  Protesters stormed the Brazilian Congress, High Court and presidential palace, scaling walls, breaking through barricades and destroying property.   Lula was in  Sao Paulo at the time of the attack, saying very little about protesters attempt to reinstate Bolsonaro.  Bolsonaro, like Trump, claims the da Silva’s supporters stole the election through some kind of election fraud.  President Joe Biden, 80, called riots in Brazilian “outrageous.”
Biden, together with Democrats and the press, blamed Trump for the Jan. 6, 2021 Capitol riots, finding every excuse to blame Trump for the riots.  Doubtful in Brazil that Bolsonsaro will be charged with planning or orchestrating the riots the left Brazil’s government in chaos.  With da Silva only in power for one week, it’s going to be difficult for Brazilian authorities to restore order with such large numbers of protesters.  Unlike the Capitol Hill riots, Brazilians are genuinely unhappy seeing that 77-year-old socialist Lula returned to power.  Bolsonsaro was demonized in Brazil’s social press, largely comparing him to Trump.   Yet like Trump Bolosonaro’s following is far removed from today’s Brazilian politics, far more to the left dealing with widespread poverty for largely the non-white population.   Brazilian authorities managed to regain control of Brazil’s government offices.
Unlike U.S.  authorities Jan. 6, Brazil managed to disperse the rabble rousers, something Washington, D.C. and Capitol police could not do.  D.C. and Capitol police showed they were unprepared for any serious type of crowd control, looking to Trump to order in the National Guard.  But in the U.S., the FBI admitted their Norfolkd, Va. Office gave D.C. and Capitol Hill police advance warning about the possibility of riots on Jan. 6.  So in a more impoverished country like Brazil, how were they able to clear the rabble-rousers out of the government offices?  House Democrats blamed Trump for the riots, accusing him of planning and orchestrating the Jan. 6 Capitol riots.  Brazilian authorities no doubt will blame Bolsonsaro for organizing today’s revolts.  Protesters loyal to Bolsonsaro wore green-and-yellow outfits, carrying Brazilian flags while they ransacked the government buildings.
Like the Jan. 6 rioters, Brazilian protesters used poles and sticks, erecting barricades to prevent  police from breaking up the demonstrations.  No one knows the extent of arrests in Brazilia but police did mange to clear all government offices of Bolsonaro’s protesters.  Bolsonsaro refused to denounce Russian President Vladimir Putin for his war in Ukraine, buying more crude oil from Moscow than before the Feb. 24 invasion. Taking about three hours to regain control, Branzilian authorities showed how to set down a dangerous riot.  How many protesters were arrested by Brazilian authorities were unknown, even after they cleared the government buildings.  Government offices were not occupied or operation at the times of the protests, leaving a different set of motives in question.  Hundreds of trespassing-riolters were arrested today by Brazilian authorities to regain order.
Da Silva condemned the protest in the strongest possible terms, ordering authorities to arrest hundreds of demonstrators.  “Whoever did this will be found and punished,” da Silva said in Sao Paulo.  “Democracy guarantees the right to free expression, but it also requires people to respect institutions.  There is no precedent in the history of the country what they did today.  For that they must be punished,” da Silva said, following the same path as U.S. authorities that have thrown the book and Jan. 6 protesters.  Bolsonaro lost a close election to da Silva in December, prompting accusations of voter fraud and nationwide protests.  Bolsonaro denounced the angry protests, saying breaking Brazilian laws is not tolerated.  Biden condemned the Brazilian riots as “the assault on democracy and on the peaceful transfer of power in Brazil,” reflecting the parallel to Jan. 6, 2021.
Lula told the Brazilian people that the will of free elections must be preserved in Brazil’s orderly democracy.  “Brazil’s democratic institutions have our full support and the will of the Brazilian people must not b e undermined,” said President da Silva.  European Union’s 75-year-old High Representative Josep Borrell condemned the unlawful protests.  “Brazilian democracy will prevail over acts of violence and extremism,” Borrell said.  With a war in Ukraine raging in Europe, Borrell and other EU leaders are not to condemn violent protests.  Chilean President Gabriel Boric called on Brazil to resist “cowardly and vile attack on democracy.”  Colombian President Gustavo Petro called for an urgent meeting of the Organization of American States [OAS] to address violent protests in Brasilia.  Revolutionary movements have done their share of damage in Latin American countries.
About the Author    
John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.    
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snappysprinkledog · 3 years
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what happened at clapham which people are already calling a protest which it wasnt it was a vigil is making me even more terrified for the powers the police are going to legally have over protests and what they deem ‘protests’ once the pcsc bill goes through next week which it almost certainly will.
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bokettochild · 2 years
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Violet
So y'all remember this animatic? Yeah?
I wrote a thing based off of it.
I'm not entirely sure how I fee about it, but y'all have shown how much you like my crack in the past, even if I wasn't sure about that either, so...
Here's Legend getting mistaken for a mom and pulling his brothers into a terrible impromptu acting adventure.
There are many things you do not do in Castletown.
One of those things, apparently, was taking Twilight with you, and next time he had a chance Legend was seriously considering muzzling their wolfish friend, in his shadow form or not.
He wasn’t the only one with that thought either apparently, although likely the only one who was thinking it out annoyance rather than utter and complete terror. Honestly, Twi needed to cut that protective streak of his in half, or he was going to be regretting it even more than he was going to regret this!
They’d all met thieves before, on the road, in villages, even here in Castle Town, and unfortunately Warriors’ central city was particularly full of them. The captain had explained it ages ago, something about the war displacing people and stirring up unrest with the refugees. It wasn't uncommon that someone got tired of relying on the crown for help, which, the captain had admitted sorrowfully, was rather slow in coming, despite all of Artemis’s efforts, to provide any sort of relief to the starving and displaced victims of the war. Legend had winced at that. Poor blokes, it had been similar in his own Hyrule when those trapped in the dark world emerged again, and even back in their Hylian forms, many of them had struggled to readjust to a world that had moved on in their absence.
It was little wonder than that those in the captain’s time faced the same struggle, especially after a bloody time war, but even so, it bothered him to no end that their group specifically had been the one that the idiot of a man chose to target. Honestly! They were all carrying swords for pities sakes! How did the sod even think he was going to catch a bunch of warriors unawares to steal from them?
Maybe it was because they were split.
It only made sense, after being dropped in the captain’s time, that they restock supplies. Both for practicality and to avoid suspicion, they’d divided the group into two to better run their errands, Time taking those less accustomed to bustling cities with him to gather food and potions, and Warriors leading the rest of them, those who could stand crowds at least a little bit better, to visit the blacksmith, fletcher, and tailor shops.
True to form, the captain strutted ahead with his scarf waving behind him, Wind tagging along beside him and chattering excitedly about something or other at the soldier. He and Four, however, had chosen to trail after, not for any particular reason other than both being extremely tired and maybe just a bit emotional.
In his own case, he hadn’t slept in a good sixty-three hours or so, and combining that with the stress of wandering around in an unknown place, he was a little more sensitive than usual and a bit put out as a result. Similarly, Four was fighting off his usual headache from their sudden switch, and ever since they’d pulled themselves out of the alleyway Hylia dumped them in, the shortest hero had worn his hood pulled over his eyes, mumbling softly under his breath in a way that was, unfortunately, unnerving Legend further and making him want, very much, to beg the other to stop.
That wasn’t an option of course, so he did something he hated almost as much as the saunter Warriors was using to get down the road.
He made small talk.
It helped, surprisingly, and while the four of them had run their errands, he chattered amiably with the smithy, who’d been willing to talk as long as he didn’t have to think too much on things. Legend could agree with that, and the two had spent the last half hour discussing if Four’s tunic really was red, green, blue and violet, as the smithy claimed, or red, green, blue and purple as Legend thought it was.
“It’s violet.” Four huffed, pushing the last bundle of arrows into his pack as they departed from the smithy’s shop and made their way back to the fountain at the center of town, where they'd agreed to meet with Time and the others.
“But it’s not!” He insisted, shifting the bundle of fabric in his arms and meeting the smithy’s gaze. “Violet is softer, duskier, a bit closer to grey or blue. That’s purple, plain as day!”
Warriors and Wind, for once, didn’t say anything, only exchanging grins every so often that the other two ignored.
Talking with Four was surprisingly pleasant, and ridiculously easy in comparison to talking with the others. For one thing, neither had to look too very far up or down to see the other, and as they’d found since their first dinner at the ranch, it was easy to say a lot with just a look. Subtle communication also went a long way further with the smithy than with anyone else, and it was a relief not to have to explain everything for once. Additionally, Four also liked reading, and unlike with most of their other brothers, they could actually have intelligent conversations with each other.
Not that that’s what they were doing when they’d trailed after the other two towards the fountain, but when they heard the snarl and resulting scream, the look the two heroes shared had carried as many words as a full two-hour lecture, while all at once conveying a single thought.
Oh boy, what did Twilight do this time?
What Twilight had done, he found out later, was spring a thief who had attempted to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild, who’d been a bit busy trying to calm his anxiety to really notice that one of the humans pressing close all around him was actually trying to steal it. That, naturally, was all well and good. The problem was the way Twilight had chosen to handle it and Legend swore there were days that Twilight forgot what form he was in; rather than pushing the thief away or grabbing ahold of them and confronting them, the gracious rancher had chosen to fling his entire body weight at the man and bite his arm.
Of course, that was only what Legend found out later, what he saw when the four of them managed to peek through the crowd, was Twilight standing there in full sight of the entire market with blood on his teeth and a man screaming in pain and terror at his feet.
Bravo, Rancher, bravo.
“Oof.” Wind winced. “That’s not good.”
“Shit.” Warriors swore, glancing around nervously and ripping his scarf off to hide in his pack.
Realization sprung on the vet like Twilight had the poor thief; Warriors was the hero here. If anyone noticed him, or any of the knightlier looking ones, they’d probably try and have them arrest Twilight. That was all well and good of course, as it would make a reasonable excuse to haul the rancher out of the way, but they’d be expected to call for help from some soldiers, and while they’d been planning on meeting with the queen while they were here, having Twilight presented to her as a feral, potentially insane, and definitely dangerous criminal was not the approach they were aiming for.
They needed a distraction, fast.
So, like the reasonable and totally mentally secure Hylian that he was, Legend shouted the first thing that came to his mind. “Violet!”
His three companions stared at him, and had he been capable, he would have stared at himself, but a desperate glance Fours way had the other drawing back, nodding slowly as Legend shouted again. “Violet? Honey?”
Warriors looked at him like he’d lost his head, gripping Wind’s shoulder firmly as if worried he’d have to pull the kid back from the apparently mad veteran.
Thank Din for teaching him acting years ago, even if it was all stage performing, but he was counting on it to get him, and Twilight, out of their respective messes, even if that meant building his higher before he could escape. At any rate, he’d caught the attention of a few people with his panicked shout. Turning to the nearest Hylian that wasn’t one of his group, he gently tapped the woman’s shoulder, letting his panic and everything in general spill over into his face and voice as the woman met his gaze with a startled look.
“Ma’am, I’m looking for-” Oh Four was going to hate this. “-My child, Violet. Have you seen a blonde Hylian child, so tall?” He lowered his hand to approximately where Four’s head would reach. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He forced a fake sob into his voice, glancing from the woman to the surrounding crowd, and Warriors and Wind in its midst.
Wind was stifling a laugh behind his hand while Warriors stared in utter shock.
“Oh my,” The woman touched her cheek, clucking lightly and patting Legend’s hand in a consoling manner. “You poor dear! I haven’t seen a thing but just give me one moment.” The burly housewife turned, still patting Legend’s hand gently as she murmured something to the women behind her, before turning back to Legend with a sorry expression. “None of my friends have seen your little one, dear. But-” The woman turned and, with all the force and volume of a cow, hollered at the top of her lungs to the crowd as a whole. “Hello? Yes, this woman is looking for her daughter!”
Woman?!?!?!
“Her name is Violet! She’s-” The woman blinked, looking to Legend with a worried look as several other market goers turned to stare, many of them women with looks of pity and understanding that was making him wish he’d stayed silent. Fortunately, his ruse had startled them out of staring at the sight of a mauled thief as worry for a poor young mother and her lost daughter took its place. “She’s how old?”
Legend fought the protest of female pronouns, both on Four’s part and his own, but only in his head. Outwardly however, he covered his face with the hand not being smashed by the farm-wife's own. “She’s four.” Shoot him, he was saying whatever came to mind because he was panicked, alright?
A snort could be heard behind him, earning disapproving looks from the crowd that soon shifted to pity as Wind too joined the act, turning his snort into pitiful sniffling as he clung to Warriors’ hand, looking for all the world like a child who’d been to the market too long and wanted to go home, but was also panicking at the loss of their sibling. “Have you all seen my sister?” The sailor blubbered softly, actual tears spilling down his face as he pouted, expression making his act so believable that no one even questioned his height. As if to make the act more convincing, Warriors wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, his own face stiffening into something that could either be gas or worry, Legend was a bit on the fence.
“What’s going on here?” Legend wished that was Time stalking towards them in full armor, but it wasn’t, it was a Hylian Soldier, staring at the crowd with a grim frown on his face as he turned to Legend, standing in its center.
Oh well, those who crack under a tough audience get tomatoes to the face; he just hoped Wars would keep playing along. “My daughter,” He sobbed into his hand, pulling the other free from the housewife to properly cover his face. “She- My baby- I can’t find her anywhere, Sir!” Later, Warriors would begrudgingly admit that the look Legend shot the soldier was enough to break any heart as the vet stepped forwards, grabbing hold of the man’s arm with all the desperation of a worried mother. “Please tell me, have you seen a little girl? She’s in her favorite dress, the colors of the goddesses, red, green and blue?” He motioned down at his own tunic, skirt, whatever one would call it. “There’s a violet corner too, I made it for her myself- oh my poor baby! I can’t seem to find her anywhere!”
The grizzled soldier quickly melted under the power of tearful violet eyes, and he too gently patted Legend’s hands as if he thought it would do any good. “I’ll have my men look for her right away, ma’am. How old would you say she is?
“She’s four.” He reaffirmed. Might as well stick to his original story.
“So tall?” The farm-wife motioned, hands lowering a bit more than Legend’s had, but the woman was trying to help, so he couldn’t really be upset with her for getting it wrong. At this point though, he was a bit worried about where Four actually was, because he’d expected the shorter hero to make an appearance sooner rather than later so the act could end.
“Right.” The man nodded, pulling himself loose as Legend brought his hands to clasp in front of his chest in an imitation of the maids he’d seen worrying about the halls when Fable went missing. “We’ll do everything in our power to find your little one, madame, you have my word.” The soldier bowed, kissing the back of the vet’s hand graciously before moving back into the crowd and snapping orders at the soldiers stationed around the market.
People buzzed by, spreading the word of ‘little Violet’s’ disappearance as Warriors and Wind pushed forwards to where Legend stood.
“Really, vet?” Warriors murmured lowly.
“I panicked.” He admitted softly, as to avoid anyone noticing as he wrung his hands. “But seriously, where is ‘’Violet’? I thought he’d have appeared before it became a big thing.”
The captain frowned, settling a hand on his shoulder carefully and standing on his toes to look over the crowd as Wind giggled at the scowling veteran. The minute he shot a look down at the sailor though, the kid had picked up his role as smoothly as if he’d never dropped it. “I’m worried, mom.” Wind blinked past fake tears, and had he not needed to remain in character, Legend would have scowled and flicked the kid’s nose for the tease.
“I am too, honey.” He sighed instead, ruffling the sailor’s curls and looking over to where the others had been. Time and the others had disappeared into the crowd again, likely trying to keep a low profile and laughing their asses off at Legend’s expense while Time and Sky scolded Twilight.
“Mama?” A small voice called out, and the crowd, and he meant the whole crowd, the whole freaking crowd of several hundred people, froze as a small face peeked out from an alleyway, the smithy’s hand coming up to rub at his shimmering purple eyes with a sniff. “Mama?”
“Violet!” All three heroes surged forwards, Legend sinking to his knees and wrapping Four in a hug, taking the opportunity when his face was hidden from the crowd to scowl. “About time you showed up.” Aloud for the crowd however, he let sobs pitch his voice hysterically. “Oh honey, you can’t run off on mama like that! I was worried sick!”
And as if to put the icing on the cake of shame, one of the men in the crowd smiled softly, patting Warriors’ back with a friendly smile. “Your wife is quite the caring mother, isn’t she? Ah, you’re a lucky man, Mr.”
Legend forced himself to not blow their cover, no matter how little they now needed it with the others safely out of sight. Breaking character meant causing drama that they didn’t need. ‘Violet’ had been found, the cute little family would depart, people would calm. But if the worried mother turned out to be a screaming teenage boy and the lost daughter to be a smithy apprentice with a height problem, people would likely riot. So instead of turning around and giving the man a piece of his mind, he pushed forwards, hefting Four in his arms (the smithy sank into him with a sigh that couldn’t have been faked) letting the smaller hero nestle against him, hood hiding the smithy’s face from view as he pulled them both up, adjusting his arms so as to not drop the other.
Man, he was glad he’d put on power bracelets today.
“She is indeed.” Warriors forced out, a strained smile on his face as he settled his hand on Legend’s waist, stiff, cold and incredibly awkward. “We’d probably better head off, dear.” If the captain smiled any harder, he’d break his teeth. “Or the inns will all be full.”
It should have ended there, it should have. Legend was so ready for it to end (although Four was warm and a calming presence as the smithy began to doze against his chest), but because fate loved to mess with him, it didn’t.
“You’re looking for a place to stay the night?” The Man-Who-Needed-To-Be-Kicked cocked a brow. “I run an inn here, just across the square. I’m sure we can find a lovely little family like yourselves a place to rest, you and our wife must be exhausted after such worry!”
Warriors, sages curse and bless him, nodded along stiffly, gently pulling him along by is waist after the Blasted-Innkeeper-Who-Would-Be-Kicked as the man chattered about family discounts and free dinner. Legend’s shoulders only lowered when a free trip to the bath house was also thrown in ‘complimentarily’.
He regretted it when someone pointed him to the ladies’ side of the bath-house (think heavens it was empty that early), and he was about ready to strangle something or someone when the others joined them inside, stuck with a regularly priced room, and the smithy and vet both were bombarded with teases as Warriors sat looking utterly and completely disgusted.
“They thought we were married....”
Legend groaned, flopping over on the other side of the bed with a grimace. “Gross, right?”
“Yeah.”
"We’re forgetting this ever happened, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Regardless, no one ever let them forget it happened.
Legend was buying Twilight a muzzle, and he was pretty sure Wars would be willing to help.
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blackwoolncrown · 4 years
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”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.
But enough is enough.
The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.
American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”
>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<
WHY AM I WRITING THIS
As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.
I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.
One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.
YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS
I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?
No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.
See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.
Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.
If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.
We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.
I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.
In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.
And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.
None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.
This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.
BASTARD 101
I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.
Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.
I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.
To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:
“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”
Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.
When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.
Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.
One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.
This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”
I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.
Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.
HOW TO BE A BASTARD
I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.
Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.
Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.
Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.
Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.
Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.
Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.
Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.
Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.
Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.
Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.
Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.
Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.
Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.
Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.
Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.
Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.
A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.
A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.
A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.
If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.
Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.
Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.
I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.
Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:
Do
not
fucking
talk
to
cops.
Ever.
Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.
DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?
Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.
During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.
The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.
It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.
And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?
To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.
Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.
HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?
So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:
Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.
Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.
More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.
Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.
Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:
No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.
No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.
Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.
Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.
Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.
One final idea: consider abolishing the police.
I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.
I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.
What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.
You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.
This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.
Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?
Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?
Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.
Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.
Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:
“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”
(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)
I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.
A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE
If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:
When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?
When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?
When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?
And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.
Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?
If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.
RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH
Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics
Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?
CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit
Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?
Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]
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hamliet · 3 years
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Unless a Grain of Wheat Falls and It Dies...
Or, why I am pretty optimistic about the fates of Jean, Connie, Gabi, and all titanized people this chapter, which is also an excuse for me to talk about SnK’s allusions to Russian literature. 
There are strikingly parallel ideas The Brothers Karamazov and Attack on Titan, as well as parallel plot points and imagery to the point where if it isn’t deliberate, it’s uncanny. (NB: before people yell at me about comparing a Japanese and Russian work, Isayama has used Russian names since the start of SnK--Shiganshina is a Russian name.) In particular, there are narrative allusions to a portion of the novel known as “The Grand Inquisitor,” which is a short story within a novel. The central thesis of “The Grand Inquisitor” is as follows: 
nothing has ever been more insupportable for a man and a human society than freedom. 
This parable is told within the story by Ivan Karamazov, a character whose intellectuality is his gift and his curse. He tells his brother Alyosha that the motivation for creating this parable is precisely the evils done to children (oh look, a major SnK theme) and specifically cites an example which was unfortunately taken from real life in Russia and which Isayama has an uncanny parallel:
I want to see with my own eyes the hind lie down with the lion and the victim rise up and embrace his murderer. I want to be there when every one suddenly understands what it has all been for. All the religions of the world are built on this longing, and I am a believer. But then there are the children, and what am I to do about them? That's a question I can't answer... If all must suffer to pay for the eternal harmony, what have children to do with it, tell me, please? ... if it is really true that they must share responsibility for all their fathers' crimes, such a truth is not of this world and is beyond my comprehension. Some jester will say, perhaps, that the child would have grown up and have sinned, but you see he didn't grow up, he was torn to pieces by the dogs, at eight years old...
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... How are you going to atone for them? Is it possible? ... What do I care for a hell for oppressors? What good can hell do, since those children have already been tortured? ... I want to forgive. I want to embrace. I don't want more suffering. And if the sufferings of children go to swell the sum of sufferings which was necessary to pay for truth, then I protest that the truth is not worth such a price. ... too high a price is asked for harmony; it's beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it... It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return Him the ticket.”
The actual parable of “The Grand Inquisitor” is Ivan’s answer to Alyosha’s question about Ivan’s lines above. Ivan tells a story about how freedom is actually what dooms humanity: it is the curse. (Alyosha does not believe this.) Jesus comes back to earth and is promptly arrested, because his existence and return threaten the wellbeing of society. To be happy, one cannot be free, but one or two strong people in society should be free and bear the burden for everyone else (you can see the parallels to King Fritz/the Reisses). 
Nothing is more seductive for man than his freedom of conscience, but nothing is a greater cause of suffering... all his life he loved humanity, and suddenly his eyes were opened, and he saw that it is no great moral blessedness to attain perfection and freedom, if at the same time one gains the conviction that millions of God's creatures have been created as a mockery, that they will never be capable of using their freedom...
This is SnK’s thesis: to be free, there will be suffering. It is part of human nature, and yet to not have it is to be lost. But SnK, despite its explorations of human darkness and monstrosity, has a higher view of humanity than does Ivan. SnK’s view is more alongside Alyosha’s, who says what is honestly the truth about not just the Reisses, but Eren now:
"Who are these keepers of the mystery who have taken some curse upon themselves for the happiness of mankind? .... It's simple lust of power, of filthy earthly gain, of domination—something like a universal serfdom with them as masters—that's all they stand for.”
Mikasa is akin to the Christ figure in the story, akin to Alyosha: Christ is constantly asked to speak, asked to act, and he does not until the very last moment, when he kisses the Grand Inquisitor on the lips. After the story is over, Alyosha then does likewise to Ivan. 
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Not to mention when Alyosha worries about Ivan’s mental state, he then answers with this:
“Listen, Alyosha,” Ivan began in a resolute voice, “if I am really able to care for the sticky little leaves I shall only love them, remembering you. It's enough for me that you are somewhere here, and I shan't lose my desire for life yet.”
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A simple leaf can save a life. A leaf can save the world. A leaf, grown from a tree that started as a seed falling to the ground, dead, only to grow life from that death. Alyosha himself notes SnK’s central thesis of chapter 137 in the (very long) novel’s final pages:
...some good, sacred memory, preserved from childhood, is perhaps the best education. If a man carries many such memories with him into life, he is safe to the end of his days, and if one has only one good memory left in one's heart, even that may sometime be the means of saving us.
There’s a lot more to this, but this is the epigraph to The Brothers Karamazov, the central thesis of the entire novel:
"Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." -John 12:24
Suffering can grow great fruit in an individual life, and by giving something up, by even death, something beautiful can come. Through cruelty, you can find life. 
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This is not just a long-running theme in SnK, but a pattern in its plot. Often those who surrender then receive exactly what they had surrendered (but admittedly, not always, like Erwin). 
Mikasa accepted Eren’s loss, and got him back.
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Mikasa let Armin go, and got him back.
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Falco gave up hope of survival, and got another chance: 
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Hange was going to die alone, feeling guilty for having failed her comrades, but saw everyone again, and they told her well done: 
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Historia gave up being free, but now we know she will be.
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Levi gave up on his revenge, and then got it. Annie thought she would never see her dad again, but she did. For Mikasa, accepting that she has to kill the boy she loves coincides not just with her acceptance of her love, but with the acceptance and knowledge that he loves her:
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It always comes with sacrifice, increasingly hard sacrifice, but usually the seeds that are dropped grow and bloom. 
This chapter, everyone surrendered their hearts. They let their dreams fall to the ground, and I honestly think the story will allow it to plant life. Yes, the world as a whole is saved and that is enough to make thematic sense, but it works even better if the very people who were titanized this chapter also bloom again. They chose to trust Mikasa, Levi, Falco, and Pieck to finish the task.
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The characters giving up their lives only to get them back make sense, and give Mikasa’s sacrifice of Eren. For Mikasa, Eren was her world, and she gave it up when she had lost everyone else. She had nothing left, and she still did it. I would hope she’d be narratively rewarded beyond just the world being saved, because Mikasa has always been motivated by her personal relationships.
Moving on from Mikasa: Connie’s mom has been kept alive and the concept of turning mindless titans back to humans was already brought up specifically in relation to her:
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Connie giving up on his mother a dozenish chapters ago only to get her back now--not through sacrificing a child, but through saving the entire world--would fit the themes and patterns of SnK.
Thirdly, Gabi should not die. She’s Eren with positive development, and cannot meet the same end. Even people who are skeptical of every titan being saved seem to agree that she’ll be fine. It’s possible she’s the only one saved, but imo, not likely. 
See, the only shifter characters who are going to have the option of self-sacrifice are Falco and maaaaaybe Armin. The others look like they’re about to die right here and now, never mind choosing someone to save: the mindless titans are ripping at their napes. Armin also looks to be in bad shape. 
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Yet Armin cannot narratively commit suicide; two chapters ago he was still screaming at himself for being useless and thinking he would be better off dead. He’s already tried the heroic sacrifice, too, so why would it work this time around? It does not work for his arc. Falco dying for Gabi was the plan without any freedom from the titan curse; it’s more powerful if ending the curse changes things, rather than forcing him to make the same choice that Reiner has always been trying to make: a heroic suicide. It could happen; it’s just not as narratively strong.
As for whether the worldbuilding rules, we know that mindless titans are not truly dead nor entirely mindless; they just don’t have freedom. Ymir’s case of getting herself back after decades shows that they aren’t quite dead or absorbed. They still have consciousness that can be awoken; Ymir described it as being in a long “nightmare.” Dina still went looking for Grisha. Connie’s mom remembered and recognized Connie, telling him “welcome home.” There is plenty of evidence that there are parts of these people that are still in there even if they are forced to become monsters (oh hey, it’s an Eren parallel; he was conscious of it and had choices while mindless titans do not, but the parallel remains).
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sukunarii · 3 years
Note
Omiki: “I've never known the lovin' of a man But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand.” the band perry - if i die young
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Pairing: Sukuna x Reader
Type: Heian Era
Synopsis: You were part of the Zenin family, valued for being a Ten-Shadow Technique user. However, you’ve decided to run away because your family have been exploiting you for your technique. While running away, you encounter Sukuna who seems to have taken an interest in you.
A/N: Minor Manga Spoiler about Jujutsu Techniques! Also I swear these “drabbles” are getting longer and longer lol. 1.4K words!
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You sprinted down the market street, shuffling through the crowds of people. You can faintly hear loud and chaotic shouts "Get her!" "Don't let her get away!". You dared to take a glance behind you to see the guards chasing you. They were still far behind. However, the moment you were about to turn your head to look forward again, you bumped into someone. Despite your speed when you collided into him, he didn't seem to stumble at all, he stood firmly while you were knocked backwards. You stumbled a bit but you managed to stay on your feet too. You rubbed your head and looked up at the man in front of you. He was tall, muscular, distinct pink hair.
You gritted your teeth, “Hey could you move, I need to get through--”
“You put up quite a show back there,” he commented.
You didn't have time to entertain him when there's guards hot on your tail, “Move before I make you regret it," you said and attempted to shove past him.
However, he continues to block you.
“Little one, when I am talking. You do not cut me off."
This sounded like a threat.
He continued, "I saw what you did with the rabbits earlier, are you a ten-shadow technique user?”
Whatever this man wanted, you didn't care. You just want him to let you leave before the guards gets here.
Feigning ignorance, you gave him an innocent smile and quickly answered “I don’t know what you are talking about. Now if you'll excuse me...”
You tried for the last time to move past him but this time, he grabs your wrist tightly.
"Do not lie to me," he ordered.
You were going to protest but he turned it into a direction it should not bend.
You yelped from the burning sensation, “Alright, alright I yield...Yes I am. I really don’t have the time to talk here.”
“Why did you run away then?”
“What do you mean why? They’re going to kill me.”
“You’re stronger than all of them. You can fight back.”
“No I can’t, there's fifty of them and....”
You realized it was too late, the guards caught up and have surrounded you two.
You snapped your head to look at the man again, “You bastard. I don't know what you want from me but you did this on purpose.”
He laughs. Angrily, you shake your arms again and managed to shake off his grip on your wrist and you instinctively pull your wrist close to you and rub the pain that he caused.
One of the guards stepped forward but still keeping his distance from you, “(Name) Zenin, under the jurisdiction of Jujutsu Regulations, you are under arrest for killing a sorcerer. We ask that you cooperate and peacefully give yourself in.”
You gritted your teeth then shouted at the guards, "Like hell I'll just give myself in. Let me go or I'll make you guys regret it."
“Oh, quite a trouble maker aren’t you,” the man beside you remarks.
"Shut up”, you spat back at him, “I’m not gonna protect you.”
He chuckles, “You don't need to worry about me, show me what you’ve got.”
Without a warning, all fifty-something of them ran to attack you. You closed your eyes and positioned your hands so it forms the shape of a snake.
"Orochi!", you summoned.
Immediately, a giant serpent springs upwards from the ground and the guards starts fighting your Shikigami. It was a close battle, it took a while and you even had to fight some of them with your bare hands but eventually, you and your Shikigami managed to effectively taking out most of the guards while the remaining few, have turned to run away in fear. You pant.
"I didn't want to do this," you mumbled and turned around ready to flee again. However you stopped cold when you heard a familiar voice.
“I see you’ve thrown away your humanity.”
You immediately snapped your head back, "Father?” you called out. The crowd of people at the market have formed a circle around you to watch the commotion. You spot your father step out of the crowd.
"That's right (Name), I am very disappointed with you."
"You have no right to say this to me after treating me like an animal, you only cared about my Jujutsu technique. You didn't care about me."
The pink haired man was still beside you watching the whole show. He seemed amused by the drama.
"I do care about you, you are an important asset to the family. Come back home (Name)," your father tells you.
“That’s right! I’m only an asset to the family.”
Your father's face darkened now, he hates it when you talk back to him.
“Last warning (Name). Come home now. This is an order.”
"Leave me alone or I am going to have to hurt you too!," you snapped back.
“You can’t. You’re still too weak.”
The moment he said this, you motioned for your Shikigami, Orochi, to attack your father. But before it even reaches him, he effortlessly mists it and Orochi disappears into thin air. Despair starts settling in, it's true that you don't really have a chance to defeat your father. He was a well reknown Jujutsu Sorcerer of the era. But you weren't ready to give up yet, there was one more technique that you could use but it was a gamble.
You placed your hands into position.
Fear immediately appears in your father's eyes when he realized what you were about to summon. Mahoraga: a Shikigami that no ten-shadow technique user has ever been able to exorcise. Summoning it meant death.
"With this treasure, I summon.."
"No (Name) are you insane? You'll kill both of us,"
A sadistic smile forms on your face. That's alright, if I’m going down, I’ll drag you down with me.
"Eight Handled Sword....", you trailed off when the pink haired stranger interrupted your summoning by gentling putting his hands on top of yours to signal you to stop. You looked at him confused. However, he wasn't looking at you, he sent a glare in the direction of your father.
“Show’s over. Let’s go,” the pink-haired man announces and grabs your hand and leads you to walk away in the other direction.
“Wait who are you and where are you taking her?”, you heard your father shout.
The man beside you casually lifts up one finger in a jerking motion as if he was slicing something and immediately, you hear screams or horror from the curious crowd that were watching you guys earlier.
You were about to turn your head around to look at what happened but he stops you.
“Don’t look back, there’s no going back now.”
"You killed him?" you gasped.
"Of course."
He said so casually as if he didn't just murder a sorcerer of one of the most famed Zenin family.
"Why—no, how," you asked in disbelief.
A sadistic smile appears on his face, “Does it matter? It's just one more of those annoying Jujutsu Sorcerer dead. They're all trash anyways..”
You didn't disagree. Since you were born with a prized cursed technique, Ten-Shadow Shikigami, you have felt that your family only cared for you because you were an asset to them. You've seen the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers with your own eyes. It was a corrupted world where the strong exploited the weak. It was a world you wanted to run away from. However, you didn't expect to run into this pink-haired stranger who suddenly stepped in to help you. There were a lot of questions on your mind but you felt dazed. Finally, you managed to ask him,
"Who are you and what do you want from me?"
He looks at you, his eyes filled with passion.
“Back there, you really proved yourself. You proved that you have talent, you have the passion, you have what it takes! I want you to wreck havoc with me. I am Sukuna and I will be the King of Curses while I want you to be my Queen of Curses. And together let’s turn the jujutsu world upside down!”
His hand was still holding yours to lead you somewhere. You didn't answer him right away but his invitation seemed to have ignited something within you because you could feel a rush of adrenaline. A rush of excitement. Perhaps this wasn't too bad. You've never felt what true love is. Your family never loved you. But this stranger — no, this man who calls himself Sukuna — holding your hands and promising you to destroy those Jujutsu Sorcerers that you've learned to hate. You didn't mind it.
It felt right. And it felt nicer than anything anyone has done for you. Because for once, someone understood you.
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nanasketchdump · 3 years
Text
⚠️ATTENTION⚠️
WHAT IS HAPPENING IN SOUTH AFRICA - FROM A SOUTH AFRICAN
Everything that is going on in South Africa started out when our former president Jacob Zuma was arrested following fraud/theft/corruption charges and he failed to hand himself over to the court. A few Zulu people in Kwa Zulu Natal rallied together and protested his arrest, which developed into looting and violent riots.
At first poorer people used these riots and protests to loot shops and steal essentials and food items, following frustration with our current president Cyril Ramaphosa after R500 Billion in Covid aid funds vanished and barely any of it reached the people who actually need it.
This escalated into violent looting and burning of shops by opportunistic criminals who started stealing anything they could, from TVs and electronics, to blood from a blood bank and even a live shark from a zoo.
Foreign news channels have tried painting this as poor people rising against capitalism, they have made it look like we all love Zuma and want him released (we don't) and some have even tried to make it look like POC people are rising up against white supremacy. This is not true.
It is currently just violence for the sake of violence, fuelled by resentment towards the government and management of the country. The videos may even make it look like only black people are looting, this is also not true. We have seen people of all races taking part in the violence.
The only reason it seems to be mostly black people is due to the fact that the population of South Africa is made up of roughly 80% black people, 9% white, 9% coloured (south african wording for people with heritage made up of multiple races), and about 2% Indian. The races of the looters reflects the racial demographics of the country.
The violence and looting has spread and escalated to a point where even Google maps is providing live tracking of the violence and multiple places have been classified as Red no go zones for EMS and other emergency services due to the danger.
There is a constant thin layer of smoke over the horizon, we can see fires in the distance at night and police sirens and gun shots can be heard almost constantly. People are lining up for hours to buy what little supplies are left and the government has started rationing food in certain areas. People cannot buy their medication, baby formula or essential supplies and bread is almost entirely out of stock.
Our taxi association (who have been involved in violent gang wars amongst themselves for years - so this was a big surprise) have come together and are forming barricades to protect communities but it comes too late for many towns and cities.
We woke up this morning to news of a massacre in Pheonix in KZN (an area with a predominantly Indian population) where it seems the Indian people have taken to the streets armed and are shooting black people (looters or not) without mercy. Many people in KZN have said that the Indian people there have always wanted to be rid of the black people and are using the looting and riots as an excuse. We are seeing videos of bodies piled up in the streets and dozens of people are missing.
The military and police along with taxi drivers are doing what they can but the red no go zones are entirely on their own and help and aid is not arriving fast enough.
This is now just plain violence and crime. People are scared, food and supplies are gone or destroyed, distribution centres have been burnt down and farms are being destroyed. At this point it will already take months to get food distribution back to normal. We have even heard that they are targeting cellphone towers to deliberately cut off peoples communication with the outside world and many people believe this may be a coup disguised as riots.
We spent the day yesterday figuring out which crops we can grow in our garden, taking stock of our supplies and deciding how to ration our food just in case.
I'm not asking for donations, even if people could donate there are so many people who need it I wouldn't even know where to send it and donations given to government agencies here will likely just go missing and never actually help anyone.
I am asking you to please share this post, there is alot of politically motivated misinformation being shared and alot of foreign broadcasters are failing to understand the full extent of what is happening here.
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petalsmooth · 2 years
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Ok.
Let’s talk Lili.
First off we only know what stars put out about themselves or other people say about them. We are not friends with these people. We are not in their homes. We don’t usually hear what they say in unguarded conversation. What we know is what is out on social media with some highly distorted soundbites from chats or DM’s with her mother that were exposed.
We were initially presented a portrait pushed by her and her family no less of a middle class family with the standard girl next door hit it big narrative. Down to earth, relatable, somewhat quirky. Strong two parent supportive household. All that was missing were the apron and pearls.
This girl came out of the gates talking about a modernized Riverdale with two girls who would be actually close and not vying for the same redhead. Feel free to add/or correct along the way of course...especially early on when not following as closely.
We got very little in the way of insight into Cole and Lili because they were trying to keep it quiet even if there were hints together. Mostly during this period what fans were fed was that she was slightly awkward socially, maybe not the most intellectual but nice and harmless. She spoke of empowering women, independence, she constantly shut down the idea of Barchie and praised Bughead. Along through the year’s she would speak to social bullying or bullying in general. She would openly talk about struggles with mental health. She’d talk and show her cystic acne and share photos not all airbrushed in ode to body positivity. She’d talk about not having an hourglass figure, and cellulite and often go out in ratty shorts and a bun sans makeup. You see she’d talk about it then follow through by showing lived the walk or calling out photoshops done of her.
Again this is “relatable girl next door quirky Lili” we told was the REAL Lili.
She would frequently talk and post about her family and dogs at home and how much she loved and missed them...though oddly not so much her older sister.
At a certain point it became undeniable Cole and Lili were together to even the hardest deniers. Of course also the Met gala eventually made official for media.
We get have her liking posts such as Miley’s about how lucky she was to have a man who checked off all the boxes. But at times there were glimpses all wasn’t kosher. People have mentioned various cons where she’d be caught flirting somewhere else, or she’d be in a bad mood giving Cole a cold shoulder. We recently saw an old video of them walking and her basically demanding he drop the fans and attend her. We have the con were Camilla is sexually harassing Cole everywhere and Lili doesn’t shut it down until Camilla tries to grind on him. It was so bad even Mads intervened. We have the interview where she is talking over him or rolling her eyes and basically being the unprofessional brat her fans claim she is not. Even though it’s ON CAMERA. Snapping at your co worker/boyfriend and rolling your eyes during a professional interview is not deniable.
Flashforward to the trip to Italy because for me there was always something off about that. That trip was obviously planned far in advance. Clearly Lili was supposed to be there. Her fans quickly blamed Cole because Lili was working. Lili didn’t have to work. It wasn’t a career changing move to do that film. It did not do well. I’m not entirely sure what was happening around that time but I have the sense Cole was disappointed/a  little angry she prioritized it over him accepting very likely the offer AFTER the trip was planned.
Lili spirals during this time. Cole comes back to clean up mess. They are quiet on social media for a long time then slowly emerge again and eventually get the photo booth shots, the wedding and her mingling with NY friends for once. Turns out close to the end for them.
I don’t want to make this a Sprousehart post though although some relevance to bring part of it up. The point is Lili put her career over her relationship. It was a calculated decision. It was also the wrong decision. Her fans talk about her being this warm giving person but that was a cynical call and a pretty lousy thing to do to your boyfriend of several year’s. I’m all for supportive partners but there are time’s where you make sacrifices if you really care for someone and this was a special trip planned long in advance. She blew it off. If I’m the partner she does this too, I question why I’m putting in the effort if it doesn’t mean to them what it means to me. 
TBH I think the bad choices she made there is why tried to make it up by meeting with his friends, the wedding etc...
Something than clearly happened because by January they were done. Not sure we’ll ever know but it looked like they were trying to fix things given the happiness hadn’t seen on Cole’s faces in a long time in those booth pics and then...it was done. We didn’t know at the time, but this is timeline Cole gave. There was a brief attempt at reconciliation where she babysits him at a photo shoot and posts a photo of them in bed and then shortly after...Cole calls it off. 
He heads to LA, she follows him there but not without making sure to shove Casey’s face into her chest to post and rent a place close to where he is staying. She posts weepy messages about the world ending etc....and weird new photos mimicking old shoots with him so naturally people think this means whatever happened they worked through. Around same time she and hers manipulated her fans to try to cancel him earlier because she misunderstood a picture of Kaia....although flat out if he had been with Kaia he was SINGLE and it was no longer her business.
She tries to walk back the firestorm she unleashed on him by “defending” him from a lesser twitter trend after realizing misconstrued the Kaia picture, All summer she weirdly seems to be trying to avoid the topic if they are together or not despite saying once if they weren’t she’d tell people. She finally puts her foot in her mouth one two many times' and Cole confirms they broke up which she doesn’t acknowledge. Because she doesn’t want to be broken up.
As we know know it wasn’t all rainbows on the set even before all this happened as in the musical she’d launched an object at him hard enough to have the crew concerned. Lili fans keep saying Cole is abusive but the only evidence we have of abuse is her towards him. We also had her suddenly doing a 180 from past 4 year’s and excusing cheating with Archie and promoting everyone in her live recaps except Cole/Jughead.
Back to the events following Cole’s post....then we get a sudden string of interviews taking shots at Cole, doxxing him, implying he could have strayed (just to resurrect hate against him) but can’t say he actually did because she has no proof. We know this because in those chats admit it was just suspicion and paranoia and never did have any names.
We learn that Lili has been funneling news and gossip and photos to keep her mother’s hold on the fandom in check and her mother in turn has been bullying people who would stand on Cole’s side. They sought to ruin him. This is not debatable.
For year’s people had made fun and called Bree out for being an obsessive stalker unable to let a relationship go, then Lili starts doing the same. We know she has tried to copy Ari’s style, her mother made a snide comment about breast size, Lili tried to taunt Ari from on set and Ari shut her down. A girl who almost never was in the line of sight of paps suddenly is snapped everyday following break up even before the public new. That doesn’t just happen. She wanted the attention.
I’m not going to go into all of it, you all know it. Suffice to say revealing she has a bitter vindictive attitude she has submersed herself in ever since Cole made it clear no reunion. She won’t even broach the topic of Bughead/Jughead unless forced. You can spin all you like but the split screens was not an artistic choice by RD. It was spurred by need to keep them apart.
Lili last summer was doing precious little other than a post or two of Black Lives matter and then when Cole gets arrested suddenly she jumps on the me too and sets up impulsive lives. Maybe she meant well but a part of me thinks she did it to attract his attention. Notice once she got praise for it and the initial protests faded she more or less doesn’t bring it up anymore. Cole never intended to get attention, it just happened because he’s a star and got taken in to a jail cell. He never put himself on camera for notice. 
Lili also co-opts the murder of a girl to flaunt she thinks she looks good naked. Completely tone deaf. 
Lili very rarely is seen in fan photos, only usually when she’s getting flack for it online. She, a girl who talks about bullying, went on a  midnight tirade against a guy who dares to critique or poetry setting her fans on him. Then deleted it probably because publicist in her ear.
She first said poems not about Cole, than said you could read into what you wanted to sell them. Now she doesn’t want to talk poetry or sequels because it flopped and was critically panned.
There are constant rumors about Lili on sets of productions to point they even had someone on her newer movie try to downplay. Yet we see in a video the cast barely talking and looking tense on a boat. 
The girl who used to talk about body positivity now lets them airbrush abs onto her.
The girl who used to talk of therapy and mental illness now promotes OTC supplements for $ and cults.
If she mentions cellulite she uses other tik toks of people showing not her own. 
She said she would never be on tik tok, yet now has her own and post old videos that aren’t funny.
Lili once tired to attack Cole by talking about losing yourself in drugs or alcohol or sex yet we’ve seen her drug paraphernalia because she advertises. Her friends post and laugh over her being drunk. She was in an off and on relationship with Wallis that doesn’t seem to be about anything but sex.
We were told Coles friends are bad influences but Taylor is out there solicitating questionable clients and making videos slamming LILI’S COWORKER as a bad actor and his brother,
The majority of Lili’s posts no longer feature Sunny or her family/Addy. 
She insulted Vancouver, compared to a prison, and made it clear her creature comforts were of more importance than a pandemic. Not quite the attitude of an empath. Which she claims she is with intention to be a master which require sucking more gullible people into the cult.
She brags about being a “rich man” without understand the context. She went from artistic photos to modeling pinups to fuel her lack of self esteem.
She’s in her mid 20′s, claims she had grown and matured in the last year but there is no evidence of it. Still can’t work with her ex without buffers which still influences show direction though her fans deny.. Still lives off junk food and hangovers. Those glasses aren’t just for sun. Her timeline is mostly an ode to her vanity with pictures of herself and then her dog. She doesn’t seem to have any causes she’s deeply involved in on the side apart from her cult. She’s still stalking Cole as her impulsive makeup tutorial showed. She said she cut out of her life anyone who doesn’t service her. I highly doubt she is receiving quality therapy on the regular right now. She still does not seem to possess the ability to own her mistakes and apologize when warranted, rather deflects or erases when heat becomes too hot.
The content she puts out about herself post break up is very different than the bill of goods fans were sold before. She is a far cry from that quirky girl next door that stood FOR something more than vanity and shallow affirmation. So no, I don’t see what you see in her stans. Everything that once seemed to distinguish her from other spoilt princesses has long faded. 
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thran-duils · 3 years
Text
Nowhere to Run (P.1)
Title: Nowhere to Run (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Stony. Reader was caught unknowingly stealing from the capitol harvest and is drug to the capitol for punishment. She is offered an option to go to trial or accept work in the main government building. Upon her tour, she ends up in trouble and catches eyes of two of the Master Council that decide she needs to be broken in by their hands. Words: 1,847 Warnings: Non-con, servitude, forced orgasms, verbal and emotional abuse
Author’s Notes: I don’t intend for this to be a super long series. This chapter is setting up the non-con to come. Read at your own risk, 18+ as always. Also, the picture under the cut is the mood in the world that I am seeing; kind of steam punk? AND, song inspo.
Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost
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You were being led through the long halls of the capitol building, a collar around your neck. The guards could give you a small shock whenever they so pleased if you tried to run or do anything unsavory.
They had found you stealing fruits off one of the carts in the market. Normally, you would have had your hands whipped and spent a night in jail. But this cart that you had so stupidly failed to see had the symbol of the capitol on it. It had been dark, early morning, and you had failed to see it as you snuck around. The envoy had apparently come to the market as the vendors were arriving to fetch the best of the crops for the council members. Stealing from the capitol meant trial there and you were drug from your mountainous outskirt town to the city with others to face the highest court for your crime.
You were brought to a room and shoved inside; the door closed behind you. A man was sitting behind a desk, waiting patiently.
“Sit,” he invited, gesturing at the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “My name is Tsu. I’ll be your counselor for the day if you decide to utilize my offer.”
Cautiously, you did what he asked, sinking into the chair. He picked up a device — you had only ever seen guards that patrolled through your town with them — and clicked it on. A picture came to life, and you watched with awe as he was able to control it with his movements of his hand in the air.
“I have your basic information that they collected upon your arrest. Name, date of birth, crime. But I need to know what it is you do...”
“‘Do’?”
“Your profession.”
“I don’t have a profession. I’m going to trial.”
“Everyone has a profession.”
You stayed silent, not wanting to give this capitol worker any more information than he already had on you. Your town did well enough staying out of their way and business, keeping to yourselves besides when they demanded crops. Giving away too much about yourself seemed unwise.
Tsu eyed you and asked suspiciously, “Was it a, let’s say, less prestigious profession that you are more inclined to not disclose?”
You saw he was eyeing your arms and then neck causing you to you ask, “What do you mean?”
“Do you know women here in the city — and many other places in the kingdom for that matter — are tattooed?”
“I’ve seen people passing through with them yes.”
“Tattoos are normal, expected even. Your body is a canvas. And having the freedom to do with your skin as you please is a status symbol.” You stared at him dumbly, not picking up what he was trying to get at. He sighed, lowering the technological device and leveled with you, “Ladies of the night do not have tattoos. They’re not free and their skin is kept clear to show that. And to me, you look like ink has never touched your skin. Am I correct?”
Heat came to your cheeks, and you sputtered offended, “I’m not a lady of the night! I worked for the local librarian if you need to know! It just didn’t pay well, and I was hungry!”
So much for not giving him information. But he had provoked you. You were always told you had a temper.
“So, you’re saying yes your skin is clear?”
“Yes it is but I’m not a trollop!”
“It matters not. It will invite unwanted attention from people here in the city. And trust me, the higher up they are in status, the bolder they will be about assuming you are... open.”
Exasperated, you asked, “What does this have to do with my trial?”
Tsu shrugged, “With my help, you may not have to go to trial. You’ll just be sentenced to work in the capitol building. Here. I’m just trying to explain to you briefly how some things work. And I was merely asking what you did so I could better place you. If you were working nights, then, there is a spot for you, despite your immediate disdain for the profession. But, if that’s not the case, then I can find you something else here.”
“For how long?” you asked upset.
Tsu shrugged and said, “The typical time for a crime in your bracket is a year.” Your stomach dropped. An entire year spent here? Wearing a collar? Away from your home. “If you are outstanding — and someone happens to notice, which is rare — you could have a couple months shaved off. The other way, if you are unsuitable or enrage someone, they could seek to extend your sentence.”
“So, I am to be at the mercy of these wealthy, spoiled assholes’ whims?” You demanded before you could stop yourself.
That drew the briefest of smirks out of hum before he cleared his throat and said, “As assuming as it is for me to hear you share that behind closed doors with me, because it is true, I would watch your tongue very closely. That’s something that would most certainly get your sentence extended.”
“Noted,” you muttered, sinking back into your seat.
Tsu turned the tablet towards you and said, “If you would prefer to do what I am offering instead of facing trial and time in a cell, sign here stating you understand the conditions.”
You stared at the tablet, weighing your options. This way, you knew exactly what you were getting into and having knowledge and a plan seemed a comfort than going in blind. Reaching forward, you held out your hand.
“Use your finger. There’s no pen.”
Tracing your name, you watched it appear in gold before solidifying in black in the document.
“Perfect. Let’s get you changed into a servant’s gown. And get that collar off.” The collar was going to come off? He must have seen the shock on your face. “You’ll be given an ankle bracelet. It will look delicate, beautiful even, but trust me, it won’t break. And they’ll get an alert if there’s a lot of pressure aka you trying to do so. And that can also get you added time.”
<><><>
It only took half a day for you to find yourself in more trouble. You had been following Tsu as he gave you a tour around the castle and you had stopped as the two of you crossed a bridge. You had been transfixed by the sight of the city, your hands coming to rest on the balcony as you took it in.
You felt a hand at your ass before it cupped, and breath was hot on your ear.
“My, my, I don’t think I’ve seen you before, lovely,” the man rasped.
“Don’t touch me, you piece of shit!” you exclaimed, whipping around and shoving him. He stumbled back away from you, barely catching his balance having been so caught off guard by your reaction. You doubted the people here ever received pushback from servants. He looked furious.
“What did she just say?” the man demanded, coming for you but someone stepped in his way.
This other man was blonde, short haired. “There’s no need to maim the girl here in public, is there?”
The first man looked ready to explode but he grated, “Did you hear what she said to me, Master Barton? She—"
“I have ears and they’re perfect, so yes I did hear what she said,” Barton replied coolly.
Tsu had come back to your side — how far had he gotten, talking to himself, before he realized you were not behind him? He pulled you a few paces away.
“What’s going on, sir?”
Before Barton could say anything, the man spat, “That little wench shoved me and swore at me!”
Tsu inhaled deeply before hissing in your ear, “Did you hear nothing of what I spoke?” You opened your mouth to protest but he continued on in a hushed whisper, “This whole thing can possibly be fixed if you just go apologize. And if you do this I’m going to have to grab the back of your neck without any resistance from you.”
“Gods,” you breathed.
“I’m serious.”
You gave the slightest of nods before Tsu’s hand was tight around the back of your neck and he walked you past Barton to the man. He was staring at you ferociously, like he wanted to tear you apart.
“She’s just arrived today but that doesn’t excuse her actions. She would like to beg your forgiveness,” Tsu told him, and his fingers flexed, signaling for you to start.
You had dealt with bullies before. You could do this.
Trying to keep the disdain out of your tone, you said, “I’m sorry for being enraged and acting impulsively. It was uncouth of me. I’m new and I am trying to learn how to act respectively with your customs. I beg your forgiveness.” You quickly added, “Sir.”
The man straightened out his shirt before sneering, “These little whores keep getting more brazen. Keep them in line!”
With that he turned on his heel and stormed off.
Tsu let go of your neck and he breathed easier that it had not escalated, and the man had begrudgingly accepted your apology. You caught Barton watching and he winked at you before turning on his heel and leaving as well.
<><><>
Tony was watching the screen of the security footage with arousal swimming in his eyes, his fingers at his lips at the woman. He was insatiable at times with his lust — the whorehouse a place he frequently relished in. He turned his attention to Steve.
Steve was cold at first, displeased by the mountain girl’s behavior towards one of the council members. But upon seeing her come back and apologize, a small smirk broke out.
“Thought you might find that interesting,” Clint commented, leaning against the wall. “Seems there’s a little hellion now in our midst.”
Tony paused the recording on a close up of her face and Steve leaned forward. He studied her for a few moments before telling the guards.
“Send her our way,” he ordered. “We’ve needed a new chambermaid. And I haven’t had to break a new one in in a while.”
“Cause she definitely didn’t mean a word of that apology. Look at that fire in her eyes,” Tony chuckled, strolling closer to the screen, looking at her face on the paused screen. Quietly to himself more than anything, his fingers tapping his lips, he said, “No... no you didn’t, did you, little vixen?” He was drinking the sight of her in, and he adjusted his pants, already titillating himself at the thoughts playing in his mind. Turning away from the screen on one foot, he went back for his goblet, taking a drink. He smacked his lips and vowed, “She’ll mean it when we ask for an apology. Of that I am certain.”
“Whatever she’s been assigned, reassign her to our villa community,” Steve added. “She’ll have plenty work there to learn her manners.”
~~~
Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21​ @undecidedsworld​ @holl2712​ @agustdowney​
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hopelesshawks · 3 years
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Ash and Dust Part 7- Opportunities
18+ Dabi x fem!reader
Summary: You first meet Dabi on the worst night of your life after unwittingly walking into the very bar the League of Villains made infamous. That should probably be the end of the story. You stumble on the remnants of one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the history of Japan, get viciously murdered or call the cops and get them arrested, the end. Except that’s not the end of the story. It’s only the beginning.
Masterlist Help Lulu (Kofi)
Waking up the morning after reclaiming your bedroom (at least in part) is jarring for two reasons.
The first is that you’re waking up next to Dabi.
For some reason you thought he might wake up before you, even though he’s pretty routinely demonstrated that he’s not an early riser. Perhaps you expected the knowledge that he was sleeping in the same bed as you to perturb him enough to get him up early. Instead your eyelashes had fluttered open to find him still deeply asleep with his face only a few inches from yours.
You fully intended on simply rolling over to either fall back asleep or get on with your day but you’d found yourself enthralled with his sleeping face instead. You know Dabi’s smirks, sneers, and scowls like the back of your hand after a little over a month of living with him. His resting face, however, is entirely foreign to you. You’ve never had a moment alone with him where he wasn’t antagonizing you and it’s odd to see him so peaceful. Your eyes trace over his face, taking in the extent of the scarring on his jaw and beneath his eyes, but also appreciating the unmarred expanses of skin as well. It strikes you that Dabi is pretty. It shouldn’t be surprising considering what you’ve seen of the youngest Todoroki in the press but even still. In another world where he’d never become the wanted criminal he is today, you wonder if he’d be a heartbreaker or a sweet, gentle type. Would he be as quiet and polite as his brother seems to be or would he still get a thrill from bantering with someone who isn’t afraid to banter right back? Would he be in the tabloids with a different girl every week or settle down early with his high school sweetheart? You’re fascinated by the idea of what the scarred man before you would be without the tragedy and the trauma. You might’ve sat there just taking him in until he woke up if not for the second reason waking up that morning was so jarring.
Your phone has been pinging literally non-stop.
You’ve never resented your notification sound more as its shrill tone continues to echo in your room, putting the fragile peace at risk. Even before you found yourself as alone as you are now your phone was never this busy. As much as you try to ignore it and wait for the tidal wave of what you assume are spam notifications to end, the sound finally drives you to turn over and grab it. Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer amount of Twitter notifications you have. As you unlock your phone and navigate over to the app your mentions are literally flooded with Deku fans screaming about your talent and how lucky you are. It’s a confusing litany of fangirling that you try to weed through until you get to one mention in particular that makes your breath catch in your throat.
You got a mention from the rising hero himself.
Holy shit.
You’ve never clicked a tweet so quickly in your entire life. Not only are you stunned to find he’s seen and loved your work but he also mentions wanting to talk if you’re interested. Sure enough, when you navigate over to the messages section of the app, a feature you’ve never bothered to use, you notice a message request from Midoriya ‘Deku’ Izuku waiting for you. It takes everything in you not to scream as you read the message there over and over before finally hopping out of bed and moving to the kitchen to call the number he’d left you. It’s a little endearing that he’d been so quick to hand out his number to a complete stranger on the internet but you also can’t help but wonder how someone so naive could be the same man drawing headlines over his heroics and combat skill. You’re not exactly a Deku fangirl but it’s still wild to be dialing a celebrity’s number as you punch in the numbers and then wait for it to ring.
On literally the second ring the phone is answered. “Pro Hero Deku at your service! Who’s calling?” the young man answers chirpily. “Uhh, this is (y/l/n)? You messaged me on twitter?” “Oh! Right! Yes! Hello! One second!”
You can hear Deku excusing himself from whatever room he’s in, a disgruntled voice mumbling something you can’t hear, causing Deku to reply with a hushed “Sorry Kacchan! I’ll be right back!” before there’s more shuffling and finally the sound of a heavy door closing.
“Ok I’m back! Thanks for reaching out to me so quickly!” he finally says now that he’s, apparently, in a better place to talk.
“Yea, of course I guess I’m just shocked you liked my art so much and really appreciate you drawing so much attention to it,” you explain, feeling short of breath at how surreal the situation is.
“Of course! You’re really talented! Your work deserves to get attention!”
“Thank you but, uh, why exactly did you want me to call you?”
“Right! It’s about your artwork.”
“Ok?”
“I want to sell it!”
“What?”
“Wait well no not sell it. Or not sell that particular piece although it is a nice piece and if you wanted to theoretically you could probably sell it although I guess it’s available for free online already so maybe people wouldn’t want to pay for it. Although it’s a painting right? And people buy or pay to go see paintings you can see online all the time so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad but if it’s for your own enjoyment you may not want to give it up which would be totally understandable and also how would that work logistically? If the painting is rather large it may be unwieldy to try and ship it to whoever purchases it, in which case would you have to meet up to try and give it to them by hand? But then that necessitates meeting up with a complete stranger on the internet and what if the person who buys it doesn’t live near you or, since it is the internet, doesn’t even live in Japan? Then you have to contend with international shipping and-”
“Uhh, Deku?” you ask cautiously, barely able to process the mumbling of the young man on the phone.
“Ah! Sorry! I can kinda end up on tangents sometimes... What I mean to say is that I’m not trying to sell the painting you posted or anything but I think you’re really talented as an artist and one of my friends is looking for someone to design a new merch collection.”
One of his friends? Your mind instantly starts running through his impressive list of ex classmates. Your first thought is Dynamight and immediately you shudder at the idea. He may be years younger than you but the aggressive pro hero still scares the shit out of you. Uravity could be an interesting hero to work with although you’re not quite sure you vibe with her aesthetic. Or maybe he’s talking about the new Ingenium?
“You’re real fucking loud in the mornings, you know that Doll?” Dabi asks with a groan as he comes walking into the room with a stretch.
You hurry to shush him, not wanting to lose the opportunity being presented to you, which earns you a curious look. Before you can react Dabi is snatching your phone out of your hand and putting it on speaker. You don’t dare protest verbally and risk alerting Deku of the situation so you have to settle for glaring at Dabi as he smirks at you.
“Yea so, anyway, Shouto really needs new merch but wanted something a little more sophisticated on the designs and I feel like you’d be perfect for that you know? Making all his stuff mini works of art. So what do you say?” Deku asks, his voice still brimming with that same enthusiasm while your blood runs cold. You’re genuinely scared to look up at Dabi’s face to see what he thinks about the idea of you working with his little brother. You hold your breath, Deku’s chipper voice going nervous as he asks “Hello? You still there?”
To your immense surprise, when you finally have the courage to bring your eyes up to meet Dabi’s, he’s got an almost feral grin. “You better take the fucking job,” he hisses delightedly, sending a chill down your spine as you stutter out a response to Deku, your eyes never leaving Dabi’s.
“Yea, sorry just processing. I’d, uh, I’d be happy to help out.”
“Great! I’ll pass your number on to Shouto and you two can meet up and figure out details!”
“Ok.”
“Cool, thanks (y/l/n)! Hopefully I’ll see you around!”
You hum noncommittally before hanging up the phone, still waiting for the other shoe to drop as you practically watch the gears turning in Dabi’s head.
“You’re…. Not mad I’m going to be working with your brother?” you ask cautiously.
“Oh no, I’m fucking delighted Doll. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re gonna help me have a little fun.”
A/N: We are finally starting to get to the meat of the story omg. I’m sorry this fic has been so slow going, especially compared to my others, but if you stick with I’m pretty sure it’ll be worth it. I appreciate each and every one of y’all that’s been reading this fic because main motivation to write it has been hard
Taglist: @thechroniclesofawriter @simpsfortodoroki @ahtsuwu @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @tina-98 @vibesdontlie @clubfairy
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