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rookthorne · 8 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰

It was your first classic car meet and you were excited for what lay ahead. Meeting others within the scene and maybe the possibility of making friends was your goal, but what awaited you was much, much more intense — for better, or for worse.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✯ Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✯ 3.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✯ Fluff, violence, possessive Bucky (that's the understatement of the century) ჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected, public, car sex, gagging and restraints, oral fixation, multiple orgasms, cum play, Dom!Bucky ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, degradation, breeding, sir, exhibitionism

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✯ This was written for a certain someone, and that certain someone knows who they are, and they know exactly what they did to me to inspire it — so, chaos kittens, enjoy some of the most depraved smut I have ever written.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✯ Keep It Down by Migrant Motel

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✯ @allcapsbingo 𝗢𝟯 — Oral Fixation (September Monthly Mission) — Masterlist

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Are you sure–?”

Bucky grinned in the driver’s seat, downshifting the Mustang a gear as he took the turn into the expansive parking lot. “Baby, I am positive–tonight’s gonna be fun, and not only that,” he assured, taking his hand off the shifter to squeeze your thigh. “I’ve got the sexiest woman on my arm, and like hell am I not gonna show off what’s mine.”

“Such a sap,” you whispered, and he laughed. “But what if–”

“No buts. Just relax.” The Mustang purred as Bucky pulled into the rows and rows of cars lined in increments – each one shining under the bright spotlights. You watched with keen interest as Bucky drove past what seemed like hundreds of classic muscle cars. “Ah. There we are.”

The steering wheel spun with grace and suddenly, you were parked facing another Mustang, and another, and another… “Whoa,” you gasped, looking down the row you were parked in. “There’s so many.”

“What did you expect, sweetheart?” Bucky chuckled as he wound up his window. “It’s a meet–who knows what and who we’re gonna see tonight.”

You sighed, and prepared to step foot out of the car. Sure, you had wanted to fit in, and you had no doubts that Bucky had lost his mind over your choice of outfit – he had spent half an hour on his knees worshipping you before you had to force him to his feet so you wouldn’t be late, but still, nerves were an accompanying thing you wished you could go without.

Bucky opened the passenger door and held out his hand. “M’lady.”

“Such a charmer,” you teased, and he smirked.

“Always.”

The door shut with a loud thunk, affording you the opportunity to look Bucky over while he locked the door. He had chosen to wear your favourite Henley, pairing it with a black leather jacket and dark jeans that hugged his thighs perfectly. Heavy combat boots made his footsteps heavy, and the sound of metal clinking was the sign that he’d worn his favourite belt, too. “You like what you see, Honey?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Close your mouth or you’ll regret openin’ it, baby,” Bucky purred as he gripped your chin, forcing your jaw closed. When did it open? “Not here and not now, kitten.”

Graciously, a shout of his name down the row of classics distracted Bucky long enough for you to bite your lip and squeeze your thighs – real subtle, you inwardly laughed.

A familiar face, blonde and far too handsome for his own good, appeared. “Hey, Honey Bee,” Steve said happily. You grinned back and then looked behind him to see Ari.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted, and you rushed forward to give him a hug while Steve and Bucky stood and talked. “You ready for tonight?”

“No,” you replied honestly. “Excited though, Buck promised I’d be okay, so.”

Ari grinned at you. “Trust me, Honey, no one is gonna get between you and ‘im tonight. Look at him.” Covertly, you stole a glance at Bucky, only he was already staring at you with a fierce glint in his eye. “I suspect you chose this outfit just to fuck with my boss, huh?”

“Guilty as charged,” you whispered. Ari shook his head and laughed.

“Alright,” Bucky said abruptly, and his arms encircled your waist while his chin rested in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “If you fellas don’t mind, I gotta show my girl the ropes of a meet.”

Both Ari and Steve saluted their farewells and they strode off to god-knows-where, their heads high and motivations sinful, no doubt.

You grabbed Bucky’s hand and stepped away from his embrace. “Wanna show me the ropes, sir?”

“Behave, you lil’ minx,” Bucky scolded, eyes narrowed. “But, yes, let’s go.”

Bucky held your hand the whole time while he guided you up and down rows of cars, only letting go to guide you by the small of your back, but he never left your side. His presence was a blessing, if you were honest with yourself – a new environment full of men measuring their dicks just as much as they bragged about the power under their hoods was intimidating.

Men stopped Bucky and asked how his business in restorations had been going since they last saw him, and while they spared you glances and pleasant greetings, few lingered and stared for longer than you’d liked. Bucky picked up on the tense line of your shoulders every time and cut the conversation short, guiding you away with his hand just above your ass.

“They’re creepy,” you groaned.

Bucky snarled. “I know, sweetheart. I thought they’d respect the- No, they’re men. What am I fuckin’ thinking?”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed and the sound made Bucky smirk. “You’re one in a million, babe,” you managed between fits of giggles.

“Why, thank you, doll. You know how to make a fella feel special.” The dignified snort of laughter that left you made Bucky cough and sputter a laugh, too.

The sky grew darker, streaks of indigo and navy across the stars as the moon rose higher, and the meet was in full swing. Cars revved and roared around you, men and women passed with nods and lingering stares; each more heated than the last. The attention gave you an inkling of something, similar to the feeling of striding alongside a king – you supposed that was the reality.

After learning about Chevelles and Plymouths, Bucky took you down a row of other Mustangs, intermingled with the occasional Shelby. There were a few familiar faces interspersed, and you felt pride in the ability to willingly say hello to them – all of which were regulars at Bucky’s garage.

“And how are you doing, miss?” One regular asked, and Bucky’s hand moved from the small of your back to your hip, innocently pulling you closer. You smiled at the action and replied to the friendly regular, keeping polite conversation about his own Mustang – a sixty-nine Mach One. “It’s good to see more of you at the garage,” he went on, and Bucky raised a brow in challenge. “Seeing Barnes in order is a pleasant surprise.”

“Shut it, Porter,” Bucky laughed. Porter – of which you assumed was his last name – laughed too and shook Bucky’s hand. “See you next week, yeah? You’re booked in with Bessie.” Bucky pointed at the black Mustang behind him.

“Do all guys name their cars?” you asked, confused.

Porter laughed and Bucky blinked once, twice, “Yeah, they do, Honey. Why?”

You stared at him, discerning his sudden sheepish expression. “Why haven’t you named yours–?”

“No reason.” Bucky turned to Porter and clapped him on the shoulder. “See you next week.” You parted his company with a wave, and then you watched Bucky’s profile as he guided you both away, until he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Why are you being suspicious?”

The abruptness of your question made him chuckle heartily, and he grabbed your hand. You squeezed it back. “Jus’–I haven’t named my babies because… Well, I was think-”

A loud wolf whistle from a ways back made you jump in surprise, and Bucky froze mid stride. “Who was that to?” you wondered aloud, looking for a lone woman in case she’d needed help. “I can’t see anyone–”

“No, Honey-” Another whistle sounded, this time closer. The tune made you feel queasy and the hair on your nape stood on end. “For fucks sake,” Bucky cursed. “Keep moving.” The usual drawl and accent in his voice disappeared as he spoke, and you gulped – that meant he was pissed.

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” A voice called. The implication made you freeze, and Bucky growled. “We just wanna see-”

“Shut the fuck up, punk,” Bucky snapped, rounding on the approaching pack of catcallers. “Take your shit out of here before I kick your ass to the curb.”

“Oh, god,” you breathed, and you pulled on Bucky’s hand, desperate to pull him back and away from them. “Bucky-”

“No,” Bucky growled, his voice dangerously low. His hands moved you behind him and you could hear the concussive silence over the boom of the speakers – even the people around you had paused whatever they were doing in their curiosity. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Huh? You think going around and hitting on anything with legs would get your dick wet?”

The man at the front of the pack bristled and advanced. “Don’t you fuckin’ talk to me like that-”

“Or what?” Bucky challenged, stepping closer to the pack of sheep. “What are you gonna do?” His broad back hid you from their view and you watched mesmerised as Bucky stepped even closer to the catcaller, invading his space. “You think you and your piece of shit friends scare me?”

“We’ll fuck you up-” The crack of skin on bone made you gasp loudly; your hands flew to your mouth in shock as you watched the man stumble and topple over. Blood spurted from his now very broken nose, covering his mouth and chin. “Fuck!”

There was suddenly a crowd of men around you – Bucky and the group in the centre as the bystanders tried to split them apart. “Get the fuck off me,” Bucky warned as one of the strangers neared, hand outstretched to touch his shoulder.

“Bucky, please, let’s just go,” you pleaded. Bucky shook his head and tensed his bloodied hand.

It was a surreal experience – the visual of Bucky looming over a man that dared to reduce you to just an object, something to keep his dick warm and wet and a hole to fuck.

“You fuckin’ think I’d let you look at what’s mine, you fuckin’ bastard? You think I’d let you touch her–Jesus Christ, you’re as fuckin’ stupid as you look!” The crowd was slowly dispersing as Bucky stared down at the cowering catcaller, but you were rooted to the spot, a mix of fear, awe, and downright arousal keeping you in place.

Bucky knelt down on one knee, his face almost level with the bloodied mess he’d created. The low, gravelly tone of his voice shot a bolt of arousal straight to your cunt, and you quietly whimpered. “If you dare to look at another woman like you did my girl… I swear to god, punk, what I do to you will make your worst nightmare look like child’s play. I will hunt you down and feed you your own dick if I fuckin’ have to. Do you understand me?”

The reply was muffled by a torrent of blood from the catcaller’s nose, though Bucky seemed to be satisfied because he stood tall over his quarry, grinning like a predator that had locked onto its prey. “Get your sorry ass out of here, fucker.”

Bucky turned to you, eyes fierce and bright in his anger, and he kissed you full on the lips, his bloodied hand holding your throat. A squeak tore from your throat and Bucky rumbled against your lips, his grip tightening. “You’re mine, Honey. And I am gonna fuckin’ kill any man that thinks he can take you from me.”

“Oh.”

A groan of pain and scuffled footsteps from the catcaller as he stood went ignored as you stared into Bucky’s eyes – doe-eyed and unable to move. Fire was coursing through every nerve to land in your throbbing cunt, and you couldn’t take it anymore. “Bucky…”

His hand grabbed yours and he pulled in the direction of his Mustang. It was so late into the night that most people had cleared out and headed back home, the once packed parking lot now close to empty and abandoned.

“That bastard thinkin’ he can take what’s mine,” Bucky grunted, and you began to pant with adrenaline, his grip had only tightened and when his Mustang came into view, you could have sworn something had possessed him – not that you were complaining. “Fuckin’ arrogant fuck–no, you are mine, and I am takin’ what’s mine.”

“Bucky, wait- I can-” You tried, but Bucky wasn’t listening. He marched you to the bonnet of his Mustang and you squealed in surprise when he forced your body over it, the cold metal biting through the outfit you’d chosen.

“No, I won’t fuckin’ wait,” Bucky said lowly, his lips on your ear. You could feel his whole body over yours, as well as the tent in his jeans. “I need to show everyone that you’re mine–not anyone else’s.” No one can fill your pretty pussy like I can, and no one can fuck you like I can–where you’re droolin’ and screamin’ for more.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, and your legs parted on instinct. “Need-”

“Tha’s it, doll–let those instincts take over, you’re gonna be a good girl for me, and you’re gonna take it all.” The sound of leather rubbing over denim brought you back from the imagery his words were casting in your mind’s eye, and you felt the smooth, cold surface brush your cheek. “Open up for me–there’s a good girl. You jus’ need somethin’ in that pretty mouth a’yours, huh?”

Humming an ascent, you took the leather into your mouth as Bucky cooed, the tent in his jeans rubbing tantalisingly over your ass. The leather tasted earthy and sultry, tones you couldn’t even describe in your lustful haze.

“Good girl,” he praised. “You’re gonna bite down on that for me–I know you’re a screamer, but I don’t want anyone to hear those pretty noises you make, yeah? They’re just for your sir.”

You nodded as Bucky chuckled, a dark sound that sent a thrill up your spine. “When we get home,” he drawled slowly and the threat in his tone made you squirm. “I am gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours, and I’m gonna fuck it like it’s your pussy. And, guess what, kitten?”

“Mm,” you mumbled around the leather.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ take it, ‘cos I know you can,” he purred. The words sent a wave of slick to soak your panties, and you moaned low in your throat.

His fingers danced over the clothes covering your crotch, and he whistled lowly. “Seein’ me be a possessive bastard made you this wet, baby? This all for me?”

“Mhm, yes,” you ground out past the leather, the words muffled on each syllable. “For you, sir.”

“Tha’s right, sweetheart. This pussy is mine, and I think she’s a greedy bitch that can’t get enough.” You shuddered violently at the words, and your cunt clenched around nothing. “And, you know what that means, Honey?”

A singular shake of your head snapped the chain that had held Bucky back, and he lost the last inkling of control. You gasped loudly when you heard the sound of fabric tearing, and the night air kissed your ass and thighs. It was an effort to stay grounded as Bucky shoved three fingers into your entrance to stretch it.

“It means, sweetheart, that your pussy is gonna take me over and over, and she’s gonna beg for more–for me to fill her up, and even then…” Bucky trailed off. He curled his fingers, and you moaned loudly around the belt. “I won’t fuckin’ stop.”

The initial breach of his length burned and stung, the ache making you whimper until he forced himself to the hilt and stilled. “Sir,” you whined and you rocked on the heels of your feet. “Fuck me–take me, please.”

“Beg correctly, whore,” Bucky spat, and the words caused a cascade of sensations to settle in your pulsing cunt. “You know how I like it.”

You sobbed and bore down on his cock like a vice, and his breath hitched. “‘M yours, ‘m yours, sir!”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he soothed. You felt his hand move to the back of your neck, and his other hand forced your arms back and up, immobilising you. “You take this cock like you were made to, and you thank me for it, bitch.”

Bucky thrust forward with such force you were moved up the bonnet of the Mustang, your skin sticking to the now slick metal as he fucked you with abandon. Pleasure curled up your spine and your toes curled – the anticipation and downright feral state of Bucky had left you no time to call upon endurance, and your release loomed closer and closer, each pass of his cock over your walls bringing it to fruition.

“Your cunt is so fuckin’ good, baby,” Bucky groaned, letting go of your arms so his front could press flush against your back. “Fuckin’ perfect for me–made jus’ for me to fuck and fill, to breed, huh?”

You screamed around the belt and nodded, tears filling your eyes at the onslaught. “Close! Please, please don’ stop, sir!”

“Already,” Bucky grumbled, and he followed the statement with such a harsh thrust your mouth opened wide in a silent scream – the leather falling from your mouth to land on the bonnet with a wet slap. “Whose cock makes you feel this good, doll? Say it!”

“Yours, sir! Sir’s cock!” you sobbed. “Uh, uh, fuck!”

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, Honey,” Bucky cooed, the mocking tone only stoking the fire of your climax. “You gonna cum for me? That what you want?”

“Oh, fucking- Fuck, yes! Wanna cum, sir, please,” you begged. The sudden feel of Bucky’s hand skirting over your hip made your eyes widen, and you gulped and choked as he circled your clit in tight, fast circles.

The slick sound of his cock pumping in and out of you at a hard, deep pace, paired with the sound of his pants for air behind you only forced you closer to the edge.

“This pussy is mine, isn’t it?” Bucky barked, his thrusts growing sloppy. “Fuckin’ tell me it’s mine—be a good girl and tell me.”

You moaned and groped over the bonnet for purchase, and Bucky slammed his hand down on top of yours, pinning it in place. “Bucky, Bucky–oh fuck, it’s yours!”

The climax that had sped into grasping distance had finally started to crest and you whimpered loudly, a cry for release. “Soak my cock, baby, it’s yours. Fuckin’ cum for me, kitten–give it to me.”

Sweet, sweet release swept you away, and you sobbed through the intense waves that pulled you under. Your feet left the ground with each pump of Bucky’s cock while he fucked you through your climax, and the coattails of another one started to crest. “Gonna cum again, sir!”

“Tell them who you fuckin’ belong to, doll,” Bucky groaned, his hips faltering in their rhythm. “Call for me, baby–call me!”

Your second climax tore you from your body and you faintly registered the warmth blooming in your pussy while Bucky moaned, his hips rabbiting and pumping you full of his release so it fell in rivulets down your inner thighs. “Fuckin’ hell,” he panted, and you giggled weakly. “Baby–baby, you alright?”

“Yeah,” you panted. “Fucked me so good, sir.”

Bucky snorted and rested his forehead between your shoulders.

Slowly, you came back down from your high, and just when you felt able to move, Bucky pulled out with a groan. You could feel his fingers force his cum back in your cunt, and the action alone made you moan quietly. “So fuckin’ pretty for me, baby,” Bucky breathed.

He helped you stand and steadied you against his chest, when he kissed you on the forehead and smiled like a lovestruck fool. “Let’s go home, sweetheart, I made a promise and I know for fuckin’ sure there are other ways I can show everyone that you’re mine.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #allcapsbingo2023 #rookthorne's works

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godisarepublican · 2 months

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ANOTHER UNDOCUMENTED MIGRANT MERCILESSLY SUBJECTED TO RACIST HATE SPEECH!!!

Nilson Granados-Trejo was rudely and cruelly branded an "Illegal Immigrant" by the press after killing a toddler and injuring his teenage mom. <link>

"He's UNDOCUMENTED," shouted an angry Joe Biden. "He's not illegal, he's not an alien or an immigrant, he's an undocumented migrant. And he built this country and everything in it. Show some respect for my voters, you VILE WHITE PERSON!"

"And so what if he murdered a toddler and wouldn't have if I had only enforced our immigration laws? Lots of people kill toddlers, and I don't care about them either. Why should I care now?"

Don't let Biden's words fool you through. He's just pandering to his base of crackpots, bed wetters & communists. Behind the scenes Biden is working hard to resolve the illegal alien crime wave.

"The problem is housing," a Biden spokesperson explained. "These noble migrants can't afford housing and only turn to crime out of desperation. So the President's new plan to house illegal aliens inside of college dormitories, at taxpayer expense, should alleviate the crime problem, allowing the administration to concentrate on the real threat to society: Trump voters.

#migrants #Trump #Joe Biden #gop #donald trump #god is a republican #suck my freedom #republicans #conservatives #biden #undocumented

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mariacallous · 3 months

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Far-right extremists have spent the past week harassing and threatening migrants on the United States border with Mexico while making money by livestreaming it on YouTube and Rumble.

“Anybody in there,” said Dennis Yarbery, one of the YouTubers, as he approached a migrant camp at night in Jacumba Hot Springs, California, near the border last week. Yarbery was livestreaming to thousands of people. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Yarbery is one of three men who split off from the Take Our Border Back convoy in Texas and, according to their livestreams, spent days driving along the border in Arizona and California to harass migrants and volunteers with nonprofit groups.

“We’re illegal hunters,” Yarbery told a store clerk while livestreaming at a Subway sandwich counter in Jacumba Hot Springs. “I’ve hunted a lot in my life, but I’ve never actually hunted people, and that’s what we’re doing now.”

Yarbery, who is known online as both MasterGrifter and Big D and says he joined the People’s Convoy, a group that protested Covid lockdown measures and disrupted traffic, in 2022, was joined by Josh Fulfer, known as OreoExpress, and Joe Felix, known as Taco Joe, who runs 1st Responders Media, an outlet focused on livestreaming far-right events.

Throughout the hours-long broadcasts from the border in Arizona and California, these livestreamers regularly asked for donations from their supporters, which they claimed was being used to continue their work “covering” the crisis.

Even while in the middle of harassing the migrants, the livestreamers could still be heard thanking those who were sending them money via YouTube’s Super Chat function or through other platforms like Venmo and the Christian-aligned crowdfunding site GiveSendGo. In one situation, while Fulfer was shouting at migrants in Arizona telling them to go home, he stopped briefly to call out a supporter who had sent him $50 on Venmo.

These livestreamers come after weeks of inflamed rhetoric from both the far-right community and Republican lawmakers about immigration at the Texas border with Mexico. This year, the situation has erupted: After Texas governor Greg Abbott refused to heed the Biden administration’s calls to remove razor wire along the border, a dozen GOP governors publicly declared support for Abbott, and the Take Our Border Back convoy traveled from Virginia to Texas. Though the convoy petered out, the violent anti-immigrant rhetoric, which experts have warned would have long-term impacts, has only heightened.

“The post-convoy terror campaign against immigrants at the border follows an all-too-familiar pattern we’ve tracked for the past couple of decades,” Devin Burghart, the executive director at the Institute for Research and Education on Human Rights, tells WIRED. “Public bragging about ‘hunting people’ is a descent into a dangerous new low for armed vigilantes. Left unchecked, armed far-right vigilantes will spill more blood.”

After the livestreamers left Texas, they went to Sasabe in Arizona and a migrant camp run by No More Deaths, a humanitarian organization that provides support for migrants crossing the border.

During an hours-long livestream at night, Yarbery, Fulfer, and Felix all shouted at the migrants and accused them of human trafficking. Yarbery even tried to sell cigarettes to the migrants for $20 each. At one point, Fulfer threatened violence against a migrant who was shining a torch at their cameras.

The trio also verbally attacked a volunteer who worked with the organization, following her around as she phoned for help from US Border Patrol, according to livestreams of the incident viewed by WIRED before they were taken offline.

Yarbery, Felix, and Fulfer didn’t respond to WIRED’s requests for comment about their actions at the border.

Laurie Cantillo, a board member from Humane Borders, says the organization, which maintains water stations along migrant routes near the border, is aware of the allegations of harassment. “We have noticed an increase in vandalism of our permitted water stations along the border,” Cantillo tells WIRED. “Our 55-gallon barrels have been shot, stabbed, drained, and stolen. It’s a sad state of affairs when someone sabotages water that can save a human life.”

US Border Patrol and No More Deaths did not respond to multiple requests for comment about the incident. One former volunteer with No More Deaths, who did not want to be identified due to safety concerns, told WIRED that they were not surprised no one replied, as the organization “may not want to draw extra attention to this event.”

After departing Arizona, the trio of livestreamers headed to California, where they continued to try and track down migrant camps. On several days their searches were fruitless, though they continued to broadcast and solicit donations through YouTube.

After Fulfer and Felix departed, Yarbery continued to “hunt,” as he called it, and during one broadcast over the weekend, he livestreamed with his partner and their baby while driving toward the border in Jacumba Hot Springs.

While there, Yarbery met with locals to discuss the migrant situation, and in one conversation a man could be heard on the livestream saying, “I say we shoot ’em all,” before Yarbery told him to be quiet as he was broadcasting live on YouTube.

YouTube told WIRED that it terminated Fulfer and Felix’s accounts after WIRED asked about the livestreamers, but it did not take action on Yarbery’s account. All of Yarbery’s videos, YouTube said, were set to private by the account holder. Yarbery has also created a backup channel, and told his followers in a YouTube chat where they could continue to follow him on the platform.

For years, extremism experts have been tracking how violent rhetoric around the border and migrants has led directly to violence, dating back to the 2000s when fear-mongering attacks on immigrants led to the mobilization of far-right paramilitary groups, one of which brutally murdered Raul Flores and his 9-year-old daughter Brisenia.

“Sadly, this cycle of violence has become so common that it tends to go unnoticed outside of the communities targeted by far-right vigilantes,” Burghart said. “This time around, the Black Mirror-like difference is that tech advances now allow [people like Yarbery, Fulfer, and Felix] to stream and monetize their cruelty to a far-right fanbase that craves more.”

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catdotjpeg · 3 months

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Korean Civil Society's 9th Emergency Action on Saturday, Feb. 17, "israel, stop the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians!”

-- 🍉 팔레스타인평화연대 - BDS Korea 🇵🇸, 19 Feb 2024

The Emergency Action for Korean Civil Society in Solidarity with Palestine held its ninth rally near the Israeli Embassy in Seoul on Feb. 17 (Sat). The march was followed by speeches and performances by activists, religious people, workers, and migrants. About 300 local and international citizens passed by the Israeli Embassy in Seoul and the U.S. Embassy in Seoul and shouted, "Freedom to Palestine!" and "Israel should stop ethnic cleansing of Palestine!"

-- 참여연대, 17 Feb 2024

#palestine #korea #south korea #seoul

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thefloatingstone · 1 year

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Last reblog; Shout out to the Twitter migrant in the notes who is new and didn't know the SPN meme is how we share breaking news here skfhkjdsfh I cannot IMAGINE what that must be like to experience for the first time without context.

#text post

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2goldensnitches · 6 months

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A man stabbed five people in front of a school in Dublin, Ireland; three of the victims are children, with a five year old girl and a 30 year old woman sent to the hospital for suffering severe injuries.

Now, I don’t say this to gloat—far from it—but a bunch of previously deleted anons I got curiously made it a point to state they are Irish, and to say that Israelis getting upset over their kidnapped children and not wanting people to tear down hostage posters is evidence of Israeli Islamophobia and weaponising children against Palestinians. And yet now, due to unsubstantiated rumours of the Dublin attacker being Algerian, there are huge anti immigration riots in Dublin. Gárda cars and trams set on fire, hostels hosting migrants mobbed by angry crowds, riot police deployed and trying to push back a sea of people shouting to put a stop to Muslim immigration. But putting up hostage posters is Islamophobic?

#ireland #i’m feeling very jaded over current events right now

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fatehbaz · 1 year

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The New York State Urban Development Corporation saw in the piers a sacrificial milieu of impurity and devaluation. Rivera described the event as follows: “It’s called a sweep. Not even a fucking eviction. A sweep, like we’re trash.” [...]

The clearance operation of the piers took place under the New York Slum Clearance Commission and Law and its frothy utopian verbiage of “sanitizing” an environment [...] unsuitable for human life. [...] The demolition of the piers showed the violent clash of two confronting forms of urbanism. [...] [Manhattan’s] working class industrial base was transformed into a corporate and service-based economy and New York State Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller, together with city planners, implemented policies to frame Manhattan as a place for work, but not living. [...] At the same time, these discussions were imbricated with racial depictions and xenophobic targets: most of the constructions beleaguered in this operation were inhabited or used by black people, Latin Americans, migrants, and displaced communities. [...]

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The piers thrived with life. [...]

The notion of the piers as insalubrious areas that needed to be wiped out gained traction in the 1980s -- during the peak of the HIV/AIDS crisis [...]. This narrative concerning the piers was active in New York City until the early 2000s, until Mayor Michael Bloomberg and Governor George Pataki opened the Greenwich Village segment of Hudson River Park on May 30, 2003. The highway was finally demolished [...] and a series of gates were erected to keep Pier 45 closed after 1am [...]. The previous residents of these spaces were just routine casualties.

The new proposal opted for a unitary, straightforward, apparently open but constantly surveilled set of facilities, where constant circulation (by car, skate, bike, foot) was central, and framed the conception of the piers as a passing point. This contrasted the labyrinthic and fragmented former setting, with multitudes of hidden spaces that provided a sense of privacy and safety [...].

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Members of these groups were ostracized and deprived of typical considerations during the outbreak of an epidemic: protocols of announcement, transparency in information, research, and measure-taking. Meanwhile, the communities that congregated around the piers, and the piers themselves, helped spread information about AIDS, made transparent the available data, and offered care among affected communities. [...]

This environmental activism, where kin was formed [...], happened in places like the piers. [...] They were an escape from the constant scrutiny of authorities and from homophobic attacks [...].

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GRID (Gay Related Immune Deficiency), as well as the common “gay plague” and “gay cancer” epithets, strengthened the idea of a specifically gay disease related to a certain environment-specific villain. Journalists, following the views of public health authorities, blamed the epidemic on [...] the places gay people frequented. [...] Physicians thus described a spatial configuration located in downtown Manhattan [...] which [...] posed a threat [...]. This claim had terrible consequences for the activist spaces and urban fabrics that confronted the epidemic [...]. The remnants of Pier 45 were demolished. The activist history of these places was “cleared.” [...]

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When Sylvia Rivera shouted to the authorities “stay away from my house!” while being evicted, “house” not only referred to the physical construction of her home. She was confronting teleological progress with the project of a[n] [...] assemblage based on [...] mutual caring [...] and defying colonial narratives of race, sex, gender, and nature. The territorialization of epidemics, identities, and citizenship not only shape the built environment, but the built environment shapes them in return. Architecture thereby assumed the form of an expanded spatial practice [...].

When Rivera was trying to save her home from demolition, she said, “there’s so many fucking buildings in this fucking Manhattan.”

What New York City was losing with the demolition of Pier 45 was not just a series of dwellings. It was losing a complex ecosystem of coexistence.

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All text above by: Iván López Munuera. “Lands of Contagion”, e-flux (Sick Architecture series). November 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

#abolition #health #medical #colonial #imperial #ecology #landscape

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