#6) Police Reforms

[hedgehog-moss]

On the eve of planned nationwide demonstrations, I want to offer an overview of the ways the protests in France are being handled by the government so far (and if what you’ve heard is that this is over a 2 year increase in retirement age, please do take a minute to read this post to get a better idea of the context)

1. In Paris on March 21, a CRS (cop) threw a tear gas grenade in the air towards protesters (they’re supposed to throw them near the ground); the grenade landed and exploded on a protester’s head. (x)

2. Massive use of tear gas at every protest, on this vid from March 17 you can see the Place de la Concorde (largest public square in Paris) drowned in tear gas. (x)

3. In Paris on March 20, video of a CRS with a baton hitting protesters who are cowering against a wall (x)

4. CRS grabbing demonstrators in (illegal) chokeholds and dragging them by the neck (x)

5. In Strasbourg on March 21, police trapped about a hundred protesters in a narrow alleyway and tear gassed them from both ends of the alley so they couldn’t escape; an asthmatic person lost consciousness; people who lived there opened their doors and let the protesters enter their houses to get to safety. (x)

6. In Paris on March 20, a CRS shot a protester with an LBD riot gun (rubber bullets) and shouted at him “Pick up your balls now, fucker” (x) (an allusion to the several instances in recent years of protesters having testicle injuries from LBD guns - and non-protesters too, in 2015 a Muslim teenage boy lost a testicle after being shot by a cop with rubber bullets when he was shooting firecrackers in a park on July 14th / Bastille day). A few seconds later in the video another CRS tells the one who said that “careful there’s a camera”

7. In Paris on March 21, a group of 4 or 5 CRS who were dispersing demonstrators, threw a homeless man to the ground who had been shouting at them (hard to hear what he said, the first sentence is “How can you do this job?”), kicking him in the head while he was down and mocking him when he couldn’t get up, calling him a ‘fatso’ and ‘sack of shit’ (the woman you can hear at the end of the video is yelling at the CRS to help the guy get up and telling them “do you lack humanity to this point?”) (x)

8. That same day Macron gave a speech on TV in which he said “the crowd [= the protesters] has no legitimacy against the people, who express themselves through their elected representatives” even though he passed his reform without a vote from the elected representatives—and considering polls show the vast majority (>70%) of the country is against the reform, the “people” and the “crowd” are one and the same. Today (March 22) he gave another TV speech in which he compared what’s happening in France right now to the January 6 US capitol attack.

9. During today’s speech Macron also said “minimum-wage workers have never seen such an increase in purchasing power” which is a mad thing to say in the middle of a cost of living crisis, and he used the term ‘smicard’ in this sentence— the minimum wage in France is called the SMIC and smicard is a derogatory word for minimum-wage workers. He decried the “extreme, unregulated violence” of protesters but had nothing to say about the unregulated violence of his police forces, and instead stoked the fire with contemptuous language that angers people the day before a planned mass protest.

10. Hundreds of protesters (and even people who weren’t protesting but just nearby) have been arrested and taken into custody in “preventative arrests”; the vast majority were then released due to “absence of an offence.” Here’s a thread by a woman who was arrested in Paris along with 11 other women (one was a 17 year-old girl) for taking part in a peaceful protest. They spent 20 hours all in one cell, were only allowed to go to the toilet if they left the door open, were frisked and had their fingerprints and DNA samples taken. Also, in Nantes on March 14, four young women age 18-20 reported having been sexually assaulted by police during body searches while participating in a student protest.

And a thread by a 19-year-old Black student who spent 48 hours in custody last week along with 4 other people who were arrested in Paris as they were walking down the street. Lots of racist shit in this thread. He had already spent 14 hours in custody after a protest a couple of days before, and ended up being charged for refusing to have his DNA samples taken.

This article in Le Monde from yesterday (it’s in French and unfortunately paywalled) talks about people who took part in last week’s protests having been handcuffed and searched in their underwear then released free of charges the next day; a lawyer comments how this is clearly meant to discourage people from demonstrating. The article also mentions two 15 year old Austrian boys who were on a class trip to Paris and were rounded up with a group of demonstrators, so the Austrian embassy had to intervene. (Journalist mentions sarcastically “We don’t know if these high schoolers’ DNA samples were taken.”)

11. There are videos from various protests of journalists wearing the press armband being threatened, hit, or shoved to the ground by police. In Montpellier yesterday, a journalist took this photo as a CRS was pointing his rubber bullet gun at his head and another was running at him with his baton telling him “I don’t give a fuck about your press card” —the photographer managed to run away. (x)

This is all from the past ten days (and mostly from the past two days) and far from an exhaustive list, there's so much outrageous stuff happening (like the Minister of the Interior lying and saying participating in an undeclared demonstration is illegal, when it’s not) but it gives a good idea of what French democracy looks like under Macron. The above photo says it all really. And thank you to all the people who continue taking part in the protests and strikes.

[artistsonthelam]

TBT to the late 00s when I was an undergrad at Columbia. It was a time when political activism and student protests saw a renaissance on campus; every year, for all 4 years I attended, there were protests—a resurgence of the spirit of '68. (I remember a meme going around comparing Ivy League schools with "How many students does it take to change a lightbulb at <insert Ivy here>?" The one for Columbia went something like "61. 1 to change the lightbulb, 30 to protest it, and 30 to counter-protest." I couldn't be more pleased, especially since the stereotypes for other Ivies were far less flattering.)

In 2007, then-President of the university Lee C. Bollinger, who was also a Free Speech scholar, invited then-President of Iran Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to speak on campus. There were protests against Ahmadinejad's arrival, and there were counter-protests, the latter calling out George W. Bush and US imperialism and upholding an anti-war message. Here are some photos I took the day of the event:

1 - Counter-protesters

3 - Protesters

4 - Students watching the event

5 - Flyers from protesters and counter-protesters

6 - Media outside the gates on Broadway

That same semester, there was a student hunger strike, calling for a reform of the Core Curriculum and expansion of the Ethnic Studies program and protesting the university's gentrification of Harlem. (I didn't take photos; this time I personally knew the protesters.) Students camped out in tents on the Lawn. And you know what? They weren't evicted. They weren't suspended. The cops weren't called. In fact, the university administration negotiated with them and agreed to meet some of their demands—the strikers won a new Major Cultures seminar requirement as part of the Core.

In 2008, on a panel commemorating the 40th anniversary of the 1968 uprising, Bollinger said, “You simply do not bring police onto a campus. All the assurances in the world cannot be kept” that police presence on campus will not result in violence.

Etc.

To the current student protestors, you are continuing Columbia tradition, and I am proud of CU students for sparking a nationwide movement. (The occupation of Hamilton Hall also harkens back to '68, when students seized control of the building to protest the Vietnam War and the proposal of a gymnasium in Morningside Park with separate entrances for students vs. the community. The spirit lives on indeed.)

To the current administration under Minouche Shafik... Sending in an armed and militarized NYPD as a response to kids peacefully protesting? How does that keep anyone safe? I can't imagine Bollinger would've been OK with how you're handling the situation. We alumni are watching.

// (c) Jenny Lam 2007

[sasquapossum]

The last thing any US leftist/progressive/whatever should be doing is undermining our political and civic institutions. To explain why, let's talk for a moment about revolution.

I see people talking about a revolution as though it's a solution. It's not. A revolution in the US would be a disaster for the left. Just look at the most basic item: guns.

The vast majority of privately owned guns are in the hands of the right.

Most police are thoroughly in the tank for the right.

The military is split. AIUI the officers tend very slightly left, while the enlisted tend more strongly right. Just as importantly, a lot of military members would respect rules and traditions precluding political involvement. At best, some military members or units might support the left, while more would support the right and more still would just stand aside.

That's already bad, but also consider who controls the areas where all of our food is grown. Where oil and metals and other raw materials are produced. Where transport and communication lines run. The right has every military advantage. Financial or technology advantages would count for nothing in that scenario. The left would be confined to a few enclaves on the coasts, isolated and ready to be picked off one by one. This is why the right is itching for a revolution. Don't be on their side in that.

So, back to institutions. The only reason the right hasn't already started a revolution is that either our institutions or respect for them preclude it. That's our only protection. Majority we might be, but we rely on the rules to protect us more like a minority typically would. In particular, institutions like the FBI and the court system - as flawed as they might be - are the only way leaders of the right's insurrection can be brought to justice and taken off the board. The only entity that can do that for the military is the military itself, and I sure don't see a lot of leftists working on that. The capitol and metropolitan police were the ones who kept January 6 from turning into an actual coup, and many of them paid dearly for it. We need the good people that exist in all of those organizations to keep pushing justice and reform, but the general tendency is to demonize them along with everyone else. Not smart.

Every time a leftist repeats "our government can't do anything well" or "our government is part of the problem" tropes, they play directly into the hands of the right. By all means, criticize. Hold accountable. Demand improvement. But don't strike at the institutions themselves, at their reasons for existence. Don't weaken the one wall we have. Unless and until we've spent twenty years or so arming and training the left to reach parity with the right (ain't gonna happen) and implementing reform within the police/military and filling the essential industries with our people (both possible but still unlikely), our institutions as they exist are our best defense against a coup turning this country into the exact opposite of what we want. There are too many people already doing the right's work of sabotage, whether they mean to or not. Please stop.

[madamepestilence]

2024 US Election Information

We have roughly 1 year until the 2024 US election. I've put in some research, and here are my conclusions.

TLDR for those of you who don't have time or focus: Cornel West (Democratic Socialist running as People's Party -> Green Party) is the ideal candidate to vote for - normally I wouldn't advocate voting third party, but we may actually have a shot for once, and he has excellent policies. Jill Stein (Green Party) is a potential backup, though if West drops out, our best option for Democratic party is Marianne Williamson.

Please spread this information, especially to residents of Texas, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Arizona, Wisconsin, and Nevada. Detailed information under the cut.

Current Fascist and Republican Candidates

Donald Trump, Nikki Haley, Vivek Ramaswamy, Asa Hutchinson, Tim Scott, Ron DeSantis, Chris Christie, Ryan Binkley, and Doug Burgum.

I'm not going to entertain their details, but I will note that the information I picked up while being exposed to alt-right communities from the inside via my fascist parents earlier this year shows strong evidence that Republicans are likely going to split between Donald Trump, Ron DeSantis (viewed as a betrayal by Trump supporters), and openly fascist Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. (I'll cover him later).

My guess is a 6/3/1 Republican vote split between Trump/DeSantis/Kennedy, Jr..

Current Democratic Candidates

Joe Biden, Marianne Williamson, and Dean Philips.

Biden has overall failed to complete the majority of his campaign promises, and has been directly supporting Israel during the genocide of Palestine, as well as deferring to Republicans to be "bipartisan" (I don't think I have to stress enough that a bipartisan democrat is not a democrat) - do not vote for him.

Williamson is a high-school educated 71-year-old author from Los Angeles, California. She is known for being Oprah Winfrey's, "spiritual advisor," (double red flag), and dropped out during the 2020 election (another red flag).

While she supports the reinstatement of Roe v. Wade, the decriminalization of cannabis and psychedelic drugs, the reduction of CO2, and moving to 100% renewable energy by 2035, her advocacy for the outright banning of assault and semi-assault weapons for civilians without military reform of the same is a slight red flag when combined with her relationship with Oprah Winfrey (an Obama supporter, the president who authorized quite a lot of drone strikes in West Asia) and drop-out makes her not a great candidate.

Philips is a Bachelor's (Brown University) and Master's Business (University of Minnesota) educated 54-year-old three-term congressman who is noted for criticizing Biden running for a second term on account of both political moderacy and medical concerns.

Philips unfortunately wants to increase police funding for some reason, but advocated for better training, including mental health training. He also advocates for what he calls, "comprehensive immigration reform," in the form of increased border security and streamlining legal entry (this ignores the problem outlined by the UN that people seeking asylum are likely to have to enter a country illegally before they can seek support), and the only real good stance he has is giving reproductive rights to patients, rather than politicians.

Philips is essentially a moderate Republican, and is a bad candidate. Do not vote for him.

Current Independent Candidates

Fascist (not his stated political stance, but it's what he is)

Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. is a fascist that has openly quoted Nazi propaganda in his political campaigns, is an anti-vaccine activist, and has spread anti-science conspiracy theories such as vaccines causing autism and the non-existence of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic. I cannot stress this enough, do not fucking vote for Kennedy, Jr.

Democratic Socialist

Cornel West is a Bachelor's (Harvard University), Master's, and Ph.D. (both Princeton University) educated 70-year-old progressive activist that switched his running party from the People's Party to the Green Party, despite being a both public- and self-described democratic socialist.

When asked why he wasn't running as a Democrat against Biden, he stated that, "Neither party is speaking to the pressing needs of poor and working people."

His party plans are a wealth tax on the rich, a national $27 minimum wage, a federal Universal Basic Income, 6 months of paid family leave, a 4-day work week, national free Pre-K childcare, "Immediate cessation of all oil and gas leasing projects on federal lands and waters," "Federal moratorium on fracking, carbon capture, and direct air capture technologies, geoengineering, and other false climate solutions," putting abortion rights in the Constitution, and nationalized healthcare.

Here's where I want to lay out something important. I normally wouldn't advocate for voting for a third party candidate due to the Spoiler Effect, but

Considering the United States' Democratic majority, popular vote records showing a common Republican minority, the absolutely incredible policies West stands for,

The growing support for third parties in the United States, and his policies aligning with public opinion,

Cornel West is the ideal candidate to vote for. Spread this information like wildfire - we may have one shot at the first third party win in US history in the upcoming 2024 election, and

If successful the dominant parties will be Fascist vs. Socialist, denying most, if not all, future Republican wins.

Our target toss-up states are Pennsylvania, Georgia, Arizona, Wisconsin, and Nevada.

Converting Texas to third party, or even just Democrat, will throw the Republican vote entirely and all but guarantee a Democrat, or hopefully third party, 2024 election win,

Which is absolutely possible, as Texas is majority Democrat and wins Republican votes via gerrymandering despite public opinion, which is why it swings occasionally.

Democrat states also need to be switched to majority third party votes, with particular emphasis on California, New York, and Illinois.

GET PEOPLE TO VOTE FOR CORNEL WEST!

Reference map of polling for the future 2024 election:

Libertarian (slightly Conservative to alt-right, really depends on the person)

Chase Oliver is a surprisingly progressive high school educated 38-year-old anti-war Libertarian that left the Democratic party after witnessing Obama's aggressive anti-West Asian war policies who has expressed desires for criminal justice reform and ending wars abroad, though hasn't elaborated on either.

Green Party

Jill Stein is a Bachelor's (Harvard University) and Medical (Harvard Medical University) 73-year-old Jewish doctor who previously ran for and represented the Green-Rainbow Party as the governor of Massachusetts.

Stein is notable for being an activist and protestor who has both protested outside buildings and testified before legislative and other government bodies against coal plants, mercury leaks, and unclean and unsafe groundwater.

Presumably, her stances will focus on environmental protections, trans rights, and Jewish protections, making her a potential alternative should West drop out.

Conclusions:

Again, don't fucking vote for Trump, Haley, Ramaswamy, Hutchinson, Scott, DeSantis, Christie, Binkley, Burgum, Biden, Philips, or Kennedy, Jr..

Our potential backup Democratic candidate is Williamson.

The ideal candidate is West, with Stein as a viable backup.

As absurd as it sounds, I want you to vote third party for Cornel West.

If you want a wealth tax on the rich, a national $27 minimum wage, a federal Universal Basic Income,

6 months of paid family leave, a 4-day work week, national free Pre-K childcare,

"Immediate cessation of all oil and gas leasing projects on federal lands and waters," "Federal moratorium on fracking, carbon capture, and direct air capture technologies, geoengineering, and other false climate solutions,"

putting abortion rights in the Constitution, and nationalized healthcare,

VOTE FOR CORNEL WEST AND GET OTHER PEOPLE TO DO THE SAME.

WE HAVE A CHANCE AT THE FIRST THIRD PARTY WIN IN THE UNITED STATES AND THE DENIAL OF FUTURE REPUBLICAN WINS.

[odinsblog]

THE POLICE ARE THE PROBLEM, NOT THE SOLUTION.

If a cop doesn’t already understand that it’s wrong to murder unarmed civilians for no good reason, they should not be law enforcement officers. There is no reforming this; no amount of “training” or “retraining” will fix this problem. Militarizing and arming the police more and more only makes them become more and more hostile to BIPOC. The police are killing us, even when we are innocent and unarmed.

The police are the problem, not the solution.

Tyre Nichols had his life stolen by a police system that routinely beats, harasses and kills innocent Black people.

The George Floyd protests were one of the longest sustained periods of protests in recent American history. And yet, each year afterwards police forces were rewarded with increased funding, and even more Black and Brown people have been murdered by the police every year since.

The police are the problem, not the solution.

The state has targeted, harassed and arrested leftist groups and Black Lives Matter protesters at a 300% greater rate, and data shows the police are three times more likely to use force against left wing protesters.

The police are the problem, not the solution.

The police deal with unarmed and peaceful BLM protesters far more violently than they do armed and violent January 6 rioters.

The police are the problem, not the solution.

“Tyre Nichols was a father. He loved skateboarding and photography. He had a tattoo of his mom on his arm. He worked at Fed Ex. He was 29. HE DID NOT DESERVE THIS!”

Let us try to remember Tyre as he lived, doing what he loved.

[crushribbons]

𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖

summary: Bobby Moch makes for one passive-aggressive roommate. (pt. 1/?)

cw: 5.5k words, modern!au, roommate!bobby, light/medium shorty hunt x reader, light suggestive content (18+ ONLY), drug use, fem reader. this is a work of fiction about the character portrayed in tbitb and not affiliated at all with the actual historical figure (like duh?) requests are open cuties

a/n: i wanna smoke the shit that got those white boys to the olympics xx laney

8-track for the series: 1・2・3・4・5・6・7・8

“Fine. The final offer I will accept is: you get the pizza, I pick the movie, and you roll up.”

“How is that a good deal for me?”

“You get to benefit from my impeccable taste in movies.”

“Oh, please, Bobby–we’re watching Horrible Bosses again, aren’t we?”

Her roommate grinned from ear to ear. “You bet your fuckin’ boot we are.” She groaned in reluctant acceptance and began searching the name of the nearest pizza place that didn’t just microwave drywall and put it in a box. Bobby dictated demands for extra breadsticks and beverages that she ignored.

Once the pizza had been ordered, she slid her phone into her back jeans pocket and told him she’d walk the eight blocks to pick it up “IF,” she pointed a finger at the man clad in his WSU crewneck and narrowed her eyes. “If you roll. It’s the least you can do, golddigger.”

Bobby threw a hand up to his chest in outraged offense. “Golddigger? Darling, I may have married you for the money but to say it out loud…so very gauche.”

“It’s a good thing you’re pre-law. You can talk me into fucking anything,” she grumbled as she pulled on a jacket and pulled the hood up. Thunder had been making threats of a rainstorm all afternoon, and now that the sun had set, fat droplets were beginning to fall against the windows of their ground-floor apartment. She peered out at the darkness and grimly hoped that she could trek there and back without getting too soaked. 

Bobby went into his room while she pulled on shoes and came back waving the plastic baggie of bud he’d scored from one of many suppliers on the pre-law track. It was something of an epidemic among the students, Bobby included, who swore they’d end it all if they had to read one more book about tort reform. “I’ll have them ready by the time you traipse back in here,” he promised, settling down at the small desk they did homework at and pulling a rolling tray and stack of papers toward him.

“Tight this time, Robert.”

“I’m always tight, sweetheart.” 

It was a wonder his roommate’s eyes weren’t permanently stuck rolled back in her skull. Moving in with Bobby in his off-campus apartment had seemed like the perfect option when her junior-year housing had fallen through at the last minute, but she’d neglected to take into account that Bobby would be there. To his credit, he was a fastidiously clean housemate and always did his dishes; he even often cleaned her room for her on the late nights where she was stuck in the library tearing her hair out over yet another batch of assignments. 

But his chatterbox nature, which she had hoped and prayed died down significantly when he was at home, did nothing of the sort. If anything, the captive audience of a girl he’d previously only gotten to squawk at a few times a week egged him on to new heights of talkativeness. She often woke up to him already standing in her doorway and halfway through a conversation: “...but then SHE said that she’d call the police on HIM, so they were both, like, staring each other down, and the whole class is dead silent while this is happening, and–”

“Bobby, what time is it.”

“–and then he–5:45, why?–then HE gets all in her face about how he has a room full of witnesses to this, which, by the way, I was filming the whole thing, and…”

After a few weeks though, the constant drone of his chatter started soothing and comforting her after long days. She could come home, throw her bag down and dive into the nearest pair of sweatpants available, and he would trail behind her the whole time, recounting his entire day starting with the exact minute he woke up and what he had eaten for breakfast. It was reliable, monotonous, and really, kind of nice to just lean against his legs while they watched something dumb on TV and let his voice wash over her.

Another perk of living with Bobby was that he was starting to get pretty good at rolling joints.

She exhaled a long line of smoke and leaned back on the couch, examining the roach pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “Not bad, Moch,” she managed to huff out before a coughing fit overcame her. The smoke settled too heavy in her lungs and made her face turn red as she hacked her breathing back to normal. Bobby was watching her sideways as he took a hit off his own joint, pulled it into his chest, and held it there for a moment with lips pressed tightly together.

“You caught me on a bad day last time,” he eked out, trying to hold the smoke in until it sputtered out from between his lips and he followed it, exhaling strongly and blowing smoke all over the pizza that lay in front of them on the coffee table. Six of the eight pieces were missing, and as the weed wrapped itself like taffeta around her brain, she decided that it would be best if they finished off the remaining two as soon as humanly possible. “My fingers were super tired and I rolled you a sub-par product, that’s just the truth.”

“Well, all is forgiven after these. Oh.” She stretched her arm forward to place her dying joint in the handmade ashtray she had painted during their forced roommate-bonding trip to a paint-your-own pottery studio. It bore the image of a stick-figure her, smiling and the sun shining, next to a stick-figure Bobby who was tied to a chair and whose mouth was covered securely with duct tape. He had dragged her out to the studio on the worst day of her period, and documenting her feelings towards him at that particular time had been very important to her. “I forgot to tell you. Speaking of fingers being tired, guess who asked me out on a daaaaate,” she said, singing the last few words in a way that came out creepier than intended.

Bobby frowned and did likewise with his joint. His eyes were pink and glassy at this point, and it seemed to take him a few extra brain cells to try and remember names right now. “Who?”

“Shorty Hunt.” Bobby’s eyebrows flew up and she tried to laugh but it dissolved quickly into another cough, her lungs still struggling to keep up with his disproportionately strong ones. Yelling for four hours a day, minimum, during crew practice gave him the lung capacity of a whale. Hence also his ability to talk ad nauseam. 

“A date? You?”

“I know, who is she?” she said. It was a joke, but an accurate one, and it rankled. Between her schoolwork and the on-campus job she needed to make her half of the rent, she had forgotten to leave time for romance, and very rarely went out with anyone. She vaguely remembered kissing someone on a night that, to her drunken memory, seemed Halloween-ish. She knew that if she were to look at a calendar right now and add up how long it had been since October, she’d probably go the same way Bobby did when he thought about tort reform. 

Bobby pulled his legs up and tucked them criss-cross as he continued to ponder this development. He looked so cute like this, she thought with a dreamy little smile on her face. Being high always softened the edges of everything, including the many irritants of her roommate. He was wearing her favorite ensemble of his, although he had no idea: a navy blue sweatshirt, plaid boxer pajama shorts, and thick, cozy socks that pooled around his ankles. His frame, which she found adorable, was tucked even smaller than usual on the couch next to her. Weed made him want to shrink away, he always said.

It was the time of day when the product that he carefully combed through his hair every morning was starting to lose its hold, and a few stray pieces fell into his eyes as she watched him work through his intoxicated state to form a normal sentence.

“Shorty Hunt…” he mused. His eyes drifted up to the TV, where Jason Bateman and Charlie Day were frantically vacuuming cocaine off the ground. “He’s a good-looking young man. One of our finest.” The rain was still pouring outside, and she slid her feet under his legs to keep them warm.

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“You should do it,” said Bobby, but it didn’t convince her, which surprised her a little. He never had a bad word to say about any of his teammates, although he would sometimes come up with very cruel nicknames targeting their masculinity if he caught them not giving their all in the shell. Her high was making her question a lot of things, one of them being why Bobby’s mouth had settled into such a humorless line. It was cute, seeing him try to be serious.

“Maybe I will,” she replied carefully. “What would be something fun we could do?”

“I’m not your damn day planner.” The words snapped out of Bobby’s mouth and slapped her in the face, leaving her in such shock that she couldn’t form a reply until Bobby colored and added on with a sheepish tone and nervous grin, “I mean, if I plan your dates for you, you’re just going to end up doing a lot more of this.” He swept his arm in front of him, indicating the pizza, movie, and still-smoldering joints. 

She had no idea what was happening. The two of them had discussed men, women, and dating prospects of all sorts over the past two years, and Bobby had never done worse than roll his eyes when she inquired after the shy and silent Don Hume and told her, “Honey, there aren’t enough hammers in the world to break that turtle out of its shell.” She had scolded him for thinking you could smash a turtle out of its own shell and they had laughed and never talked about Hume in that context again. 

Although…Come to think of it, she’d gotten similar brush-offs from the coxswain in the past regarding his friends and teammates. As they settled into comfortable silence on the couch, a stoned stupor heavy in the air, she tried to recall whom else he’d dismissed as romantic options for her. She was unable to snatch one from the depths of her memory before the opportunity presented itself for her to lay her head in Bobby’s lap and she took it, her eyes sliding shut immediately as she inhaled his scent of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweet, skunky smoke. 

Her last thought before the weed closed her eyes gently for her and she drifted off to sleep was that Bobby really was so cute. I gotta stop smoking this strain, the last rational part of her thought to itself, then she was lost to the sensation of his fingers threading into her hair and stroking absent-mindedly.

On Monday, she told Shorty that she would go out to dinner with him, and on Friday, they went to dinner. It was nice; Shorty’s conversation didn’t revolve entirely around rowing, and his winning smile made her blush more than once as he held open doors and pulled out her chair for her. When their dessert plates had been cleared away and the waiter inquired whether they would like some coffee or another glass of wine, their eyes met, and a shared glint that said “And pay these prices for it?” made Shorty suppress a smile and say, “I think we’ll just take the check, please.” 

They walked down the lamp-lit sidewalk that led to her apartment at a snail’s pace, lingering beside each other and chatting happily. When they reached the front door of her building, Shorty turned to face her and said, “Well, thank you for a lovely evening.” His self-assured demeanor slipped as he pressed his lips together and glanced up at her door. The moonlight hitting his dark hair and the two glasses of wine she’d had with dinner were casting him in a very appetizing light.

“Thank you, George. I had a lovely time.” She copied him in glancing at the door, and when she brought her eyes back to his, he was looking at her like she was a delicate thing that he thought might blow away in the blustery wind whipping around them. It made her mouth go dry. Her gaze slid down to his lips while she said, “If you want, I have a bottle of Malbec we could open up.” She had wanted her voice to come out sultry and enticing; strained and whimpery were better descriptors for how it actually sounded. “I know you said that’s your favorite…”

While Shorty stood behind her, patiently waiting for her to fumble her keys in the lock and finally push the door open, she wondered why she had ever put off dating this long. She hoped hard that he would end up staying the night. The image of the lanky Shorty walking into the kitchen for breakfast in one of Bobby’s borrowed sweatshirts, the hemline of which would probably hit him mid-torso, made her giggle, and Shorty followed suit, asking “What is it?”

“I–oh, nothing!” Her key turned at last and she pushed the door open, twisting around to look up at him. She bit her lip when she saw how he was eyeing her up and down. “Don’t forget about Bobby. Try to be quiet if you can; we won’t have a moment of peace if he learns there’s fresh ears to be talked off,” she said, and he grinned.

“I am familiar with Mr. Moch’s work.” Shorty closed his lips and mimed locking them and tossing the key. 

They slipped into the lobby and passed several doors until they reached the door marked “109”. She pulled her keys out once more to unlock it, but before she could, Shorty grabbed her shoulders, turned her around and pressed her back to the door, and kissed her. It wasn’t forceful, but she felt every muscle relax and melt into him as his soft lips melded with hers. She grabbed at the frayed tie he’d worn to dinner and used it to pull his body closer to hers. The key sat, forgotten, in the lock for several minutes while they made out, trying hard to keep their moans and sighs to a minimum since they were still in the middle of the hall, after all.

She broke apart from him and all she could gasp out was, “Come on, my room.” Shorty’s hair was sticking up wildly from the place she’d run her hands through it and he looked like a man possessed as he watched her unlock the door and push her way inside. The lights were off, save for the small lamp her and Bobby always left on if they went to bed before the other. The sight made her exhale quietly in relief. It was well past midnight, and Bobby had probably had his “smoke and two beers”, their favorite shared Friday night delicacy, and fallen asleep long ago.

The tiled kitchen was cool on her bare feet as she kicked off her shoes and jogged over to the wine rack on the counter next to the fridge. The Malbec (the only bottle on the rack that had cost more than $10) and two glasses in hand, she ran to Shorty and tugged him by his belt into her bedroom. He was laughing in delight as she pushed him down on her bed and set the glasses on her nightstand, the only light in the room filtering in from the hallway as she climbed over him and began kissing him and undoing his tie simultaneously. 

When Shorty’s hips bucked, on instinct, into her core, she vowed to never go this long without a date again. She wasn’t sure she saw a life-long future with Shorty, but she did see a short-term future of pretty spectacular sex with the tall, well-built gentleman in her bed right now, and that sounded plenty appealing to her. 

They continued kissing for a while, their tongues in each other’s mouths. She peeked at him and saw that his eyebrows were quirked upwards in an expression of desperate desire. The sight made her panties dampen. The irritating reminder of responsibility that came with casual sex snuck up and tapped her impatiently on the shoulder, and she groaned as she pulled her lips away from his and said, “Lemme make sure I have condoms.” Shorty panted and followed her reach towards her nightstand, but when she stretched across his chest, her tits, about to fall out of the lacy shirt she’d worn on the date, grazed his face and a little moan slipped out of him. He reached up to palm her over her shirt and the action caught her off guard so badly that she yelped and knocked one of the waiting wine glasses off her nightstand. The glass hit the floor and shattered, causing them both to bolt upright as Shorty slurred, “Y’ok?”

“Shit, yes, just a clumsy idiot,” she muttered. Frustrated by the building desire inside her stomach that demanded attention, she swung a leg off the bed, careful to miss the pile of glass shards. “I’ll just clean this up real quick.”

“How ‘bout you just get back here and let me do that later,” Shorty propositioned, a smirk on his kiss-stained mouth that made her tremble. 

Still, the promise of glass stabbing into the bottom of her bare foot after she inevitably forgot it was there was enough to make her reply, “How ‘bout you pour yourself the other glass and wait for me to come back.” She leaned forward and placed one hand over the groin of his pants, a tent already very evident, and smiled against his parted lips. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

“This night has been well worth the twenty laps I’m gonna have to run tomorrow when I miss a.m. practice.”

“Already planning on missing practice?” “Well, I assume you’ll need someone here to help you walk again.” The line made her roll her eyes and scoff, in spite of herself. “Don’t write a check your ass can’t cash, Hunt.”

“I wasn’t planning on using my ass; I was thinking more along the lines of my c–” He was calling after her as she shut the bedroom door behind her with a swat.

She stumbled blearily to the kitchen, lust addling her mind as she giggled to herself and fantasized about George and what he would do to her when she dove back into bed with him. She was so lost in her thoughts about what those powerful arms and taut core could do that she didn’t notice the kitchen not being empty until its only other occupant cleared his throat and said, “I’d ask how it’s going, but clearly, the answer is ‘pretty ok’.” 

“Bobby!” She jumped and grasped the countertop for support. “You scared the shit out of me. I told you to never wait ominously in the dark for me.”

“The lights were on already. Since I am not seated in an armchair and did not flick on a lamp to dramatic effect, I think I’m in the clear.” He had a beer bottle in front of him at the table, and was wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts again. She wondered why she was noticing that.

She rummaged around the cabinet under the sink until she found some dirty rags and a small bucket. Taking them in hand, she rose to her feet and turned back to Bobby. “Thanks for telling me to do this.” Her cheeks flushed a little as he continued staring her down, emotion indiscernible on his face. “Didn’t know how bad I needed a date. How was–”

“You like him?” Bobby asked, cutting her off. Her mouth opened and closed in a fish-like mechanical movement a few times. 

“He’s…he’s hot, Bob. I don’t think we’ll be picking out china anytime soon, but, God, he’s hot,” she finally acquiesced with a gush, and she thought she noticed Bobby sit up a little taller, a little more stiffly. “But I am sorry to have missed smoke and two beers night–”

He cut her off again, and she felt the frustration that had been largely sexual in nature start to turn Moch-avellian. “Well, I’m sure you won’t be having time for smoking with little old me anymore when there are tall rowers to deflower.”

She frowned. The strap of her top fell down one shoulder and she pulled it back up without thought. She was sure her hair and makeup were both too mussed for him to take her seriously at the present moment, but she found herself too exasperated to care. 

“You done, drama king? I’m gonna head back in there.” She nodded towards her bedroom and started walking towards it. Bobby jumped to his feet and followed after her. He wasn’t done. 

She’d seen Bobby be mildly possessive before; being the youngest of three boys had given him survival of the fittest instincts that usually only reared their head when she tried to reach for his snacks from the pantry. Sometimes, though, when the wrong mood struck him, he would use his powers of speech for pure evil, and could spit vitriol about anyone who even looked at him the wrong way. Clearly, tonight had brought on one such mood.

“I’m sure I won’t see either of you tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe even the day after that, so have tons of fun making babies and try to remember to send me a save the date when you mail them out. If you can teach that knucklehead to read quickly enough for him to write his own vows,” he practically spat, and she found herself agog at him.

“Robert Moch, what the hell has gotten into you?” she breathed. “You love Shorty.”

Bobby balked. “You didn’t have to start dating him.”

“You told me to, you complete ass.” 

She should have known that logic was powerless in the face of Bobby Moch. He spluttered for a long while, his arms moving up and down in gestures that she was sure were supposed to mean something. Despite his mere five feet and eight inches, he could manage to take up a lot of space when he wanted to. When they stood face to face the way they were and she didn’t have any shoes on, he was a few inches taller than her. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know how gross it would be to hear you two slopping and giggling all over each other.” He adopted an exaggerated face of disgust like a toddler that had been offered stewed carrots, then began simpering in a poor imitation of Shorty’s voice: “Oh, baby, you feel so good. I hope I can find my way out of your pussy later.”

“Shut UP!” she hissed, glancing over at her closed bedroom door and hoping Bobby’s rude mockery hadn’t carried far enough for Shorty to hear. “That is so mean. You are being mean, Bobby, why are you being so mean to him?” Bobby had never taken shots at any of his teammates’ intelligence before, other than passing jockish insults disguising genuine affection for the boys. Besides, even if he did, they’d probably let him have it just as hard, once they managed to catch their breath from dragging his ass over the finish line. “What are you–” she scoffed before she could stop herself, “–jealous?”

Bobby’s jaw ground as he clenched his teeth together and backed a few steps away from her. She hadn’t even noticed that they were nearly nose-to-nose. His bright blue eyes were electrified.

“No,” he said, voice dangerously low. It was the shortest sentence he’d ever spoken in his life and it freaked her out when he didn’t continue.

“Well, we’ll go back to his place then so you don’t have to hear all the slopping.” She knew she was being petty. But he had always been terrible at articulating what was actually bothering him; another side effect of his upbringing was the passive aggressive manner of arguing that his mother had ingrained in him.

He swatted a hand at her and she saw a little bit of the fight in his shoulders dissipate. “No, no. Don’t bother. I’m just…just tired. I’m gonna head to bed.” She watched as he passed her, the beer bottle hanging loose in his fingertips and his jaw still set, and entered his room across the hall from hers. He didn’t exactly slam the door, but her stomach was still in confused knots when it shut and she was left standing alone, staring after him and wondering what was actually plaguing him to make him lash out at her and George.

George. “Oh, shit!” she hissed and trotted into her own room, where Shorty was still laying on the bed. The almost-fight with Bobby leaked out of her head with worrying rapidity when she took in his bare chest and legs, stretched out and waiting for her, and the devilish grin he was wearing while he said, “Thought maybe you’d forgotten about me.”

The broken glass was not cleaned up until the next morning.

When she had disposed of the shards and the bucket holding them, she crawled back into her bed next to Shorty, who was still groaning himself awake and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The sex had, as predicted, been amazing, but the nagging thought that she should make her intentions with him clear was eating at her. Shorty was too sweet to blindside.

“Hey,” she began in a whisper, trailing a finger up his neck and chin to tap on his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut but cracked one open to peek at her. 

“Mm…good morning, sweetheart.”

Something inside her bristled. Before she had time to examine why, she decided to just plow forward. “Last night was so wonderful.” Shorty smiled and she felt her resolve weakening when she saw how the corners of his eyes crinkled. Maybe she could see a world where they went out. She tried to imagine sitting on the couch and watching shitty movies with him, or going on a pottery-painting date, or going clothes shopping and waiting for him to decide between two identical light green shirts (“This one is mint and this one is sage. You seriously can’t tell the difference?”). For some reason, her brain refused to conjure the image of Shorty in those settings. But he was still looking up at her expectantly, all doe eyes and mussed-up hair. 

“I was wondering if you would just want…kind of….uh…” She gestured to him and then to her, only three articles of clothing present between the two of them. “Keep this nice and casual.”

Nerves ate her alive as Shorty’s eyebrows raised and he let out a small “huh.” She gritted her teeth and started to apologize but he cut her off gently. “That is a-ok with me, baby. You’re a fuckin’ firecracker and if that’s what you want?” He pulled his hands out from under the duvet and offered his upturned wrists to her. “I am just a man.”

“Fuck, thanks, Shorty,” she smiled, relief washing over her. 

“Wanna keep things casual right now?” he asked with a wink. Heat flooded through her body and she wanted very much to say yes, yes I would, but her eyes fell to the digital alarm clock on her bedside table, and she shot upright.

“Dude, it’s 8:15! You can still make it to practice if you go now!” Shorty swore and sprang out of bed, pulling on clothes in whatever order he could reach them, catching the shoe she threw with expert reflexes and putting it on before his slacks. “I’ll text Joe and tell him to bring you extra clothes!” “Got some in back of my car,” he replied, but his words were muffled by the spare toothbrush that she pulled out of her dresser drawer, ripped free from its cardboard packaging, and shoved into his mouth. He hopped out of the room, only one leg in his pants, and down to the bathroom. She shouted directions for where to find toothpaste and soap and he grunted in affirmation as she heard the faucet turn on.

When she bent down to peer in the fridge and find something quick for him to eat on his way to the docks, she noticed a yellow post-it note stuck to the freezer door with a WSU magnet. 

Dead dove (waffles) do not eat (you may eat).

A sigh of gratitude and laugh of delight huffed out of her at the same time as she opened the freezer and pulled three frozen waffles out of the new box Bobby had purchased. Their spat from last night had been all but forgotten, and shame swirled inside her as she popped two of the waffles into the toaster and thought about how defeated her friend had been when he’d gone to bed. Clearly, he had awoken at the appropriate time and gone to the docks for practice already, but the note he’d left behind for her made an annoying little tear form in one eye. An annoying little tear for an annoying little guy.

Luckily, Shorty barreled into the kitchen before any more tears formed. At that exact moment, the waffles jumped from the toaster and startled her, but he just yanked them out of the grate, held one in his mouth while balancing the other in the hand that was also trying to button the dress shirt he’d worn last night. He pecked her cheek and mumbled through his mouthful of food, “Gimme a call, ya know, whenever!” 

Then he was gone, the slight rattle of the front door as it flew shut behind him the only evidence that she hadn’t just been standing in the kitchen, defrosted frozen waffle in hand, the entire morning. While she sat and ate her meager breakfast (her stomach didn’t seem able to handle much more than the waffle and a glass of water), she held the post-it between her fingers and considered it. Bobby was thoughtful, so thoughtful. Thoughtful and sweet. Cute, kind, sweet.

And jealous of the boys she dated. 

Which, she argued with herself, could be easily attributed to his possessive nature. She was his roommate and built-in best friend, and the prospect of her spending a lot more time with Shorty must have irked him because it would be taking time away from their hangouts. Right? 

The rebuttal to her argument was a completely unbidden remembrance of the time she had fallen asleep on the couch the night before an exam with two textbooks open on her legs and highlighters scattered all around her. She had blearily awoken to the sight of Bobby taking the books off of her and organizing her mess of supplies on the coffee table. She had kept pretending to be asleep as he laid the wool blanket that lived on the back of the couch over her and tucked it securely around her. A small smile had fought its way to her lips but vanished quickly when he leaned forward, smoothed the hair off her forehead, and whispered, “‘Night, sweetheart.”

That same thing inside her that had bristled when Shorty used the nickname stretched out and purred. Morning sunlight was starting to stream into the kitchen as she continued staring at the post-it in her hand, and the light catching it made her realize that there was writing on the back, as well. She turned it over and tried to decipher Bobby’s chicken scratch. 

I’m sorry about last night.

Next to this, he had clearly written a few letters then scratched them out. She couldn’t make out anything other than an “L”, but he had dashed an “X” and an “O” after the scribble. God, it was so very Bobby of him to apologize via post-it. It should have frustrated her more than it did. His casual acquaintances never guessed at his passive-aggression because he was always yelling about one thing or another, but she was one of the few that knew that the yelling usually concealed something deeper. 

Grabbing her phone from where it was charging on her desk, she checked the time to see that there were still a few minutes before 8:30. Practice hadn’t officially started yet. Shorty had shared his location with her last night when they were meeting up for dinner, and she quickly checked it, seeing with a chuckle that he had made it to the docks already. Breaking several traffic laws in the process, no doubt. 

She pulled up her and Bobby’s conversation. It was the only one pinned to the top of her inbox. The last sent message, from Bobby and the final in a series of twelve he had sent with no break, read “Also it’s probably going to rain today so bring an umbrella.” She pressed her lips together, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

thanks for the dead dove!! also i’m sorry too about last night :( dinner tonight with your fav roommate?

The reply came back in a matter of seconds.

You can read my mind, or somethin’ <3

or somethin’

masterlist

[seoheesoo]

What if Sakumo were alive and how Kakashi's life would have changed after Naruto was born

[Part 6]

"I can't believe it's been nine months already!" - Obito said excitedly.

The teenagers arrived at the Namikaze family's house. Kakashi raised his hand to knock, but the front door suddenly opened. A young woman came out of the house.

"Tsunade oba-san!" - Kakashi smiled at the woman, who looked at the three teenagers with a surprised look.

"Kakashi! Look how you've grown!" - Tsunade extended her hand and patted the guy’s hair. - "Have you come to visit Kushina?"

The teenagers nodded.

"Come in, she just woke up", - Tsunade stepped aside. - "I'll go see Sakumo-san for now."

Obito and Rin bowed to the woman in farewell.

"Why do you call Tsunade-sama an aunt?" - Obito immediately asked as soon as the woman disappeared around the bend.

"Because Jiraiya is my uncle", - Kakashi shrugged and entered the house.

"So what?" - Obito screamed. - "You're always like this. You can never answer a question directly. You're annoying!"

"Be quiet", - Rin shushed him. - "You'll wake up the baby."

The teenagers took off their shoes and walked into the living room. The door to the bedroom was slightly open. Obito and Rin knocked and entered the room, while Kakashi hesitated at the entrance.

"Obito, Rin!" - he heard a woman's voice. - "Glad to see you."

"Kushina-san!" - Obito rushed to her first. - "How are you?"

The woman was lying on the bed. Traces of fatigue were visible on her face. She smiled softly at the worried teen and squeezed his hand tightly.

"I’m fine", - she reassured the guy.

Obito did not take his eyes off her, in which anxiety was noticeable. At the same time, Kakashi finally entered the room. While Obito and Rin were talking to Kushina, Kakashi moved closer to Minato.

"Do you want to hold him?" - asked the Fourth Hokage as soon as Kakashi was nearby.

Hatake nodded uncertainly. Minato smiled encouragingly at him and held out the child. Kakashi carefully picked him up and pulled him closer.

"Hey Naruto, wake up", - Minato bent over the baby. - "It's time to meet."

The child in Kakashi's arms began to stir. His eyelids fluttered and after a moment he opened his big, blue eyes. Kakashi turned his back to everyone and pulled the mask off his face with one hand. His lips stretched into a gentle smile.

"Hello Naruto", - he said softly. - "My name is Kakashi."

Naruto blinked.

"I’m so happy to finally meet you", - Kakashi leaned over the baby and touched his cheek with his finger. - "From this day on, I will be your big brother. And I will always be by your side. I give you my word."

"Kakashi! I want to hold Naruto too!" - he heard a loud voice behind him and quickly pulled the mask over his face.

"Wait", - he muttered and hugged the child tighter.

"Hey, that's not fair!" - Obito immediately pouted. - "Give him to me."

Kakashi shook his head stubbornly. Minato and Kushina laughed.

"Come on, Kakashi, let Naruto meet his other siblings", - Minato put his hand on the guy’s shoulder.

"Okay", - Kakashi muttered displeasedly and handed the baby to Rin.

***

Three years have passed since Naruto was born and four years since Minato assumed the post of Hokage. Konoha was rapidly changing under the leadership of the Fourth Hokage. The first thing Minato did was remove Danzo from all affairs and abolish the Root. As soon as Kakashi turned seventeen, Minato appointed him head of the ANBU. Not only focusing on changing the ANBU system, Minato also advocated reforming the police department. By concluding an alliance with the head of the clan, Fugaku Uchiha, with the support of Obito, Minato was able to change the attitude of the elders and residents of Konoha towards the entire Uchiha clan.

In addition to changes within the village itself, Minato actively advocated signing peace treaties with other villages and ending bloody wars. The long-awaited peaceful era of shinobi has arrived.

Kakashi was patrolling the borders when he suddenly felt familiar chakra. He stopped abruptly, and his team members immediately froze nearby.

"Go ahead, I need to check something."

Having waited for their nods, Kakashi headed towards the supposed location of the familiar chakra. He landed silently on a tree branch and glanced at the ground. In the middle of the edge of the forest stood a child. Kakashi jumped down. The child turned around and shuddered in fear.

"Naruto", - Kakashi called him quietly.

The boy covered his face with his hands in defense. Kakashi mentally cursed. The child had never seen him in his ANBU uniform before. Kakashi removed the Hound mask from his face and then quickly pulled off the black mask as well.

"Naruto", - he called the child again. - "It's me."

The boy slowly moved his hands away from his face and turned his gaze to the guy.

"Kashi nii-chan!" - with the speed of the wind, the boy rushed at Kakashi and hugged him tightly around the neck.

"I’m sorry I scared you", - Kakashi said softly, stroking the child’s back soothingly. - "What are you doing here? And why are you alone?"

Naruto was silent, still trembling slightly from the emotions he had experienced. Kakashi decided not to put pressure on the child, giving him time to come to his senses. After a few seconds, he felt a familiar chakra approaching. He quickly pulled his black mask over his face and carefully broke the hug from the boy.

"Genma, captain of the Hokage's personal guard", - Kakashi turned to the arriving guy and deliberately emphasized his position. - "Would you like to explain why the hell the son of the Fourth got lost in the forest alone?"

The guy put his palm forward and frowned.

"Do you remember that five days ago the Fourth sent me on a mission to Hidden Sand Village? I returned an hour ago and was immediately informed that Naruto had escaped."

"Escaped?" - Kakashi clenched his hands into fists. - "So, what did your incompetent subordinates tell you? Isn't it their responsibility to protect and monitor the Fourth's son? How could a three-year-old child escape from their surveillance? Do they even understand the danger they put him in? What if something happened to him?"

Genma jumped off the branch and came closer to the guy.

"According to them, in recent days he began to run away more and more often. And it became more difficult for them to find him."

"They also have the audacity to come up with excuses for themselves?" - Kakashi’s cold voice cut deeper and sharper than any dagger.

Genma glanced worriedly at his right hand, which was beginning to gather chakra. The accumulated chakra crackled and enveloped the guy's entire arm in blue bolts of lightning.

"They were very unlucky that it was not the Fourth who found out about this, but me. Minato sensei could have spared them, but I won’t", - Kakashi growled in a slow and low voice. - "I'll kill them."

"Kakashi, stop", - Genma took a step forward, standing in the guy’s path completely without any fear. - "You're scaring Naruto."

Lightning flashed and disappeared. Kakashi turned around and met the gaze of frightened eyes. Hatake dropped to one knee in front of the child.

"This is the second time I’ve scared you, I’m sorry", - Kakashi bowed his head guiltily.

"Kashi nii-chan, I didn’t mean to", - sobbed Naruto.

Big blue eyes filled with tears.

"I ran away and now you’re angry with me", - the child said in a broken voice, rubbing his eyes with small fists.

Kakashi's heart sank. He extended his hand and hugged the boy tightly.

"Naruto, I'm not angry with you", - he whispered, feeling hot tears on his shoulder. - "Listen to me carefully, Naruto Namikaze, I will never be angry with you. You will never disappoint me. And you should never be afraid of me. I will always be by your side to lend you a hand or lend my shoulder. I will always be behind you, protecting you and guiding you. You should never worry about this."

The boy's small arms hugged his neck tighter. Kakashi could feel the child's heart beating fast in his chest.

"Do you promise?" - the boy asked in a quiet voice.

"Promise", - Kakashi vowed, putting all his love and devotion into one word.

***

"I knew I would find you here", - Kakashi heard Guy’s voice, and then felt Might sit down next to him. - "You weren’t near the gate and I didn’t find you in the apartment. You usually meet me after missions. Something happened?"

Kakashi could feel his excitement. Guy knew him too well, he could read all of Kakashi's hidden feelings just by looking at him. Hatake felt Guy's hot hand gently squeeze his palm.

"It’s interesting how much has changed in the village in the three months that I was gone", - Guy decided not to put pressure on Kakashi and decided to continue the conversation, giving Hatake time to find the right words. - "Did Naruto acquire some new techniques? I can't wait to meet him tomorrow and show him some new moves."

Kakashi snorted quietly. Guy loved Naruto very much and if it were his will, he would spend every free minute with the child. Kakashi liked to watch them train while sitting under the shade of a tree with a book in his hands. Guy and Naruto were very similar to each other in Kakashi's eyes. Both had immense energy and literally glowed from within, like two bright suns. And usually, when Guy went on long missions, Naruto's company brightened up the days of waiting for Kakashi. But not at this time.

"I’ve been having nightmares a lot lately", - Kakashi said in a hoarse voice.

Guy tensed.

"Every night I dreamed that I was losing everyone I cared about. Father, Duy-san, Obito, Rin, Minato sensei, Kushina-san, Jiraiya ji-san… They all died right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do to save them. I just watched helplessly as they left."

Guy silently listened to Kakashi's monologue. Hatake could feel how carefully and tenderly Guy squeezed his hand.

"And every night I woke up with a scream in my throat", - Kakashi sighed heavily and turned to face the guy. - "But, you know, there was something that helped me break out of these nightmares and come to my senses."

Guy waited with bated breath to hear the continuation of the story.

"You", - Kakashi finally said.

Guy's gaze warmed. The tense shoulders relaxed and the corners of the lips curled into a soft smile.

"Thinking about you brought me to my senses", - Kakashi continued. - "You know, my brain never formed nightmares about you. Because I know better than anyone that I simply won’t be able to stand it if I see something happen to you. I can and I was able to survive nightmares about all the people close to me, but I know very well that if something happens to you, I will break."

Kakashi pulled Guy's arm, forcing him to move closer. And then put his head on his shoulder.

"You are my anchor, Guy. Always have been. As a child, you always brought me down to earth when I acted like an arrogant kid. In my youth, when I was drowning in the blood of my enemies, you pulled me to the surface, not allowing me to choke. You became my support and my strength."

Guy gently ran his hand through the Hatake's hair.

"I often think about the future when I look at Naruto", - Kakashi admitted. - "This child was born in such a cruel world, but I want to change this world so that he does not have to experience the horrors that you and I once went through. I want his whole life to be filled only with happiness, joy and love. Sometimes I worry that he is too energetic and that it might put other people off. But, you know, this child is special. There is something in him that, on the contrary, attracts other people to him, makes them follow him. Very soon he will go to the Academy. Because of his parents' status, I was afraid that the other kids might shun him, but he manages to befriend every kid he meets. He has already made friends with Itachi's younger brother, the Kazekage's son and the children of Ino-Shika-Cho."

Guy smiled. Kakashi's voice changed when he spoke about his little brother. Guy could feel Kakashi's boundless love for Naruto.

"These are peaceful times, but sometimes this calm scares me."

"I understand what you mean", - Guy nodded.

"It’s like everything can collapse in an instant. It’s like this whole world is an illusion."

"That’s not true, Kakashi", - Guy objected softly.

"I want to believe", - Hatake sighed tiredly and closed his eyes.

He felt like he was falling asleep. And he knew that next to Guy, all the nightmares would finally recede.

"I missed you", - Kakashi said. - "Three months is too long. I was afraid that you wouldn't come back."

"I will always come back to you", - Guy gently hugged him by the shoulders. - "In this world and in all others. In this life and in all others. In every reality and in every universe, I will always return to you. Only to you."

Kakashi smiled.

"Sounds like the most serious promise", - he teased the guy.

"This is my self rule", - Guy lifted Kakashi’s face and softly kissed his forehead.

"Maa", - Kakashi pulled off his mask and covered his lips with his own, feeling Guy’s happy smile. - "I love you too".

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

[oodlyenough]

DL-6 is so funny to me because like. We asked a medium and she said the victim said the only other adult in the room did it. But he got an insanity plea - which meant she was lying?

I don’t understand the leap of logic here like. Did he do it and was not imprisoned because of the insanity plea - meaning she didn’t lie. Or did he not do it and she lied and you ruined a man’s life with a stigmatising ruling anyway? And then just do nothing about that.

Yes I love how absolutely nothing at all calls into question Misty's power and yet -- lmao. I can see why "we asked a ghost" would be embarrassing for the police, but Misty being a fraud because Ghostworth failed to ... idk... secure the harshest conviction possible with his testimony is funny. Especially when AA2 and 3 double down on channeling not just being "source: dude(s) trust me" (as I assumed, playing AA1) but rather literal full on physical shapeshifting. Irrelevant in the face of Greg... maybe misunderstanding the facts of his own death, I guess, lol.

IIRC part of why they turn to Misty is because they have no definitive evidence against Yogi, just circumstantial, which is cool and all if not for how every other case in the game has a moment that's like "well sure you've proved your client couldn't possibly have committed the murder mr wright but we've gotta hang SOMEONE". Was the justice system so embarrassed and incensed by Yogi "getting away" that they passed even more ludicrous reforms.

And also the general implication that if Edgeworth really had killed his dad by way of accidental misfire when he was nine years old he'd still be fully liable, despite adult man Yogi getting off on an insanity plea. Lmaooo. I love the case so much and AA is a dystopian nightmare to the point I consider all these bizarre leaps just part of the charm, it's fine. But it's very funny to me.

[fandomtrashbag]

I am aware this isn't a Destiel meme but the shitty memes grab enough attention and that's all I need. It's been a long day.

Hi! It's trashbag again. I've got a migraine but I'll power through with a more detailed summary about the Job Quota Protests in Bangladesh.

Currently Bangladesh has 56% quota allocated for govt jobs. 30% of this is for the descendants (children/grandchildren) of freedom fighters. In comparison, ethnic minorities have 5% and the disabled have 1%. It's nearly impossible to get into the govt jobs without inside connections due to rampant corruption and nepotism.

Students have protested for this before, back in 2018. It was bad, university students got tear gassed and shot with rubber bullets.

July 1st the public universities began the protests for the job quota reform again. Coincidentally this also coincided with public university faculty going on strike because of the Prottoy Pension Scheme, which does not provide enough of a financial safety net and also takes a significant chunk out of the faculties' income. So, students did not have any classes to worry about when they went to the streets.

July 14, PM of the country let us just call her Granny because I don't want to raise red flags on my blog. Granny came back from a visit to China, and of all the statements she gave, one said "if there is no quota for the freedom fighters, who will there be quota for? The Rajakars?"

For context, Rajakars were the paramilitary force that were against the independence of Bangladesh. They did their best to thwart liberation. They're national traitors. They've done concentration camps, genocide, murder of intellectuals, rape, torture.

So, the leader of the nation just called us the local equivalent of a Nazi for demanding to lower the freedom fighter quota. She did not want more merit based people working in the government, which as a leader of a nation is absolutely wild to me.

There was a considerable amount of outrage. Students of Dhaka University (DU) who have been protesting since July 1, took the streets at midnight to chant slogans. The chants lose a lot of weight in translation, but they're essentially calling themselves Rajakars (ironically) for wanting equality.

July 15. We've had student protests erupt around the country. The ruling party sent their student wing, BCL, to suppress. Students occupied the dormitory halls and barricaded. People were beaten and attacked in broad daylight. Rajshahi University (RU) had a raid attempt by BCL at 11PM. Jahangirnagar University (JU) had an attack at 3AM.

July 16. Nationwide protests surge. Private Universities - BRAC, NSU, AIUB, IUB, UIU and so on took to the streets and occupied the roads. There's been blockades. The police got involved today, there was an attack on Primeasia University. The first martyr for the movement, Abu Sayed, 25, died by police gunfire. The video of his murder has been all over Facebook. BCL brought in reinforcements. RU had arson. There was open gunfire in DU.

Come evening, there's been a massive misinformation campaign ongoing. There is fear being incited wherever you look. The latest was 27 rapes at Dhaka University, proven false. The main source of communication is Facebook, and they've slowed that right down. There's now confusion on if there will be protests tomorrow. False information that tomorrow's protests were cancelled on the occasion of Ashura spread too far.

Local media isn't reporting shit. Al Jazeera, AP, Reuters, the diplomat have but there needs to be more.

6 officially dead. One is a highschooler.

At least 200 injured. Real numbers are close to 400.

All hope is not lost - 5 DU halls have pledged to ban student politics. But there is a lot left to be done. Please boost this before we spiral into a much worse situation.

[thoughtremixer]

3 Years, 3 Months, 6 Days and I finally got a speck of justice... hopefully.

For those of you who followed me throughout the years, on May 31, 2020, I was attacked by the NYPD unjustly for covering the George Floyd Protests. I was held in a holding cell along with other protesters and later released literally an hour before the crack of dawn, without being charged with a crime.

A brand-new electric bike destroyed by the FDNY (no fault of their own). My phone busted, along with any evidence. My chest is forever scarred. The memories of the NYPD forever in my mind, altering my already views on policing in general to the point of abolishing the current police system.

What followed years after was me in a case vs. the NYPD and NYC. Along with other victims of NYPD's brutal tactics, we stood firm in holding the NYPD accountable.

I decided to become one of the public faces of this case, by doing interviews (under my real name of course), recalling details while trying to hold back tears mixed with anger.

I spent years reading comments about how I was "a paid actor by the Democratic Party", a "plant" by Black Lives Matter, a "crisis actor" and an opportunist when the only opportunity I wanted was to cover the protest from the protesters side, sell my work to the media and go home and have a quiet birthday.

I have to fund raised and get strangers to help me put my mental state back together in a quick manner so that I will be able to be of sound mind as I speak up for people.

Well, I'm happy to say that something came out of it.

My quote, if you don't want to read the article states:

Matthew King-Yarde, a protester involved in the suits, said all New Yorkers should support the agreement — whatever their political leanings.

“Regardless of your stance, none of us should have faced trauma, both physical and mental, for voicing concerns about law enforcement’s disregard for Black lives,”

King-Yarde said.

“The NYPD must undertake extensive work beyond what’s been done. Are they up for the challenge? One can only hope.”

(The reporter didn't do any research, just grabbed quotes from the lawyers website)

Sadly, one of the things I can't do is go into the exact details of how I feel about the settlement. I do have some strong opinions about it, but that's the problem with settlements. You can't really express them the way you want to.

However, I will in the near future talk about the impact of the settlement.

But at the very least... the very least... I can start to move on from this long and tiring court case.

[dwreader]

A Meal to Remember by @iwtvfanevents

Part 2: I am suddenly Megan Ellison, a wealthy lesbian, my father is a billionaire who has allowed me to start my own production company to make films I want to see. Money is no object. Here are the fics I would adapt and who I would hire (bully into) directing.

1. Reformation by verseau - first of all, I would pay $1 billion to acquire the rights outcompeting Amazon, Netflix and Apple and I would make Betsy adapt the screenplay. I maintain this must be cinematic because Ldpdl’s hole needs to be experienced in 70mm imax AND I would not allow any countries to censor like they did to Florence’s boobs. This would be like an Eternal Sunshine/Blue Valentine/Two for the Road type romantic dramedy that jumps back and forth in time to show the couple’s struggles and progression, and the non-linear storytelling means it automatically becomes an Oscar frontrunner. I would try to hire Barry Jenkins first but he is occupied with The Lion King 2 at Disney so then I would go to Mia Hansen-Love to direct. Beyoncé does the soundtrack. I didn’t even have to ask her she just wanted to.

2. Part of Your World by weathermood - I will imprison Mr. Monsterfucker himself Guillermo Del Toro until he agrees to direct this film like I am Kathy Bates in Misery. He will read it and then be like okay I agree you don’t need to kidnap me I will make this movie. We are going full Avatar 2 level budget to make sure underwater scenes are believable cause I won’t tolerate bad Aquaman CGI. The budget balloons to $400m but that’s okay cause it makes $2.7b worldwide and there’s 2 sequels greenlit immediately cause the world wants to see Louis get pregnant.

3. A Potentiality for Corruption by vampdf - Guillermo is occupied with Part of Your World and its sequels now so I turn to Robert Eggers to help bring to life this gothic horror romance. It’s 3 hours long. Parts of it are in black and white and there’s aspect ratio changes that confuse and unsettle the audience. We debut at Cannes. We get a 47 minute standing ovation but also some walkouts and fainting in the crowd because some vanilla viewers couldn’t handle the ending, which is controversial but has everyone talking.

4. Cord of Communion by themasterletters- this has now become a #1 nyt best selling novel so we have a built in audience and they want it to be a tv show cause of its length and we can’t skip out on any important points. Every streamer wants it but I choose HBO cause of the prestige factor and I’m an Emmy whore. It becomes Sunday night essential viewing replacing Succession it’s like if The Idol was actually good. I hire many talented directors such as Raine Allen Miller (Rye Lane), Francis Lee (God’s Own Country), Gina Prince Bythewood (Beyond the Lights) and I make Rolin Jones be my showrunner. We sweep the Emmys. The episode where Lestat fires Louis becomes the new Red Wedding traumatizing millions.

5. Pieta by baberainbow - When iwtv the amc show ends, I hire Paul Verhoeven to direct a standalone sequel film based on this fic. It’s as insane as you could ever imagine. The Catholic Church is mad at us. It’s condemned by the Vatican and the anti-feminization police. They’re protesting outside our premiere like they did to Benedetta. It doesn’t matter cause it just makes the film an even bigger hit.

6. Hand to God by boltcutters - first I pay Ziska $1 billion to finish writing this. Then I go back in time to 1933 first to make Hollywood not adopt the Hays Code so we can have gay and interracial stuff in movies and then to 1946 so Howard Hawks can direct this Danlou version of The Big Sleep.

PSA: some of my links aren’t working cause I’m on my phone (on vaca) so please forgive me but y’all know where these fics are don’t lie!!!

[suniah]

never in a million years I thought students, not only students, kids will be killed right Infront of our eyes, in my country. this is not only a quota reform movement, this is a war. people, students, friends of friends — they are being arrested by false claims. i am terribly tired and i don't know what i can do, it won't do any good if i just jump on the main road mid curfew and sacrifice my life. writing something, for the people outside my country to raise awareness requires a mental strength that I can't provide. do not have the capability of giving aid, support due to my parent's pressure.

4 year old, 6 year old, 14 year old, they don't draw a line. they just see a kid, and they shoot. their own people, they speak the same language, they are brought up in the same country with the same stories lulling them to sleep. our own people, our own friends. and all they care about pleasing the government and the thrill of the smoking gun. tell me how much they give you sir? to kill one person. how much extra money do you get on overtime? do you feed your kids with the haram money or do you build your parents a home?

one of the depressing one is about someone named taim. taim was a son of a police officer, he was killed, despite his father's restrictions he went to the protests, in curfew. his body, they couldn't count how many bullets. seems like one bullet hit one place again and again. his father asked his colleague ''how many bullets does it take to kill one person?'' I don't know how to answer that.

tell me dear friends, what to do when you see smoke in the skyline? what to do if you care more about when it is raining the blood washing from main roads than the sound it makes when it falls on tin-shed. and the world doesn't seem greener, it seems more red.

[pikahlua]

MHA Chapter 387 spoilers translations

This week’s initial tentative super rough/literal translations under the cut.

PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS POST AS A DIRECT LINK ON OTHER WEBSITES.

1 火叢は血が濃いんだ ひむらはちがこいんだ Himura wa chi ga koinda “The Himura blood runs thick.”

tagline 1 No.387 煮凝り　　堀越耕平 ナンバー387 にこごり　　ほりこしこうへい NANBAA 387 nikogori   Horikoshi Kouhei No. 387 Aspic   Kouhei Horikoshi

tagline 2 語るは… かたるは… kataru wa... The speaker...

2 古くからの庄屋だった火叢は農地改革後も分家を増やす事で ふるくからのしょうやだったひむらはのうちかいかくごもぶんけをふやすことで furuku kara no shouya datta Himura wa nouchi kaikaku-go mo bunke wo fuyasu koto de “The Himuras, who were village leaders from ancient times, by increasing their family branches even after the land reform, they”

3 財とプライドをなんとか保ってきた ざいとプライドをなんとかたもってきた zai to PURAIDO wo nantoka tamotte kita “somehow managed to keep their wealth and pride.”

tagline 3 超常解放戦線幹部 ちょうじょうかいほうせんせんかんぶ choujou kaihou sensen kanbu Paranormal Liberation Front Officer

tagline 4 外典　個性「氷操」 げてん　こせい「ひょうそう」 Geten   kosei 「hyousou」 Geten  Quirk: Ice Manipulation

4 でも超常が起きると共に加速度的に零落していった でもちょうじょうがおきるとともにかそくどてきにれいらくしていった demo choujou ga okiru to tomo ni kasokudo-teki ni reiraku shite itta “But that all fell at an accelerating pace to zero in tandem with the awakening of the paranormal.”

5 血が混ざるのを嫌ったんだ ちがまざるのをきらったんだ chi ga mazaru no wo kirattanda “They hated mixing their blood.”

6 お家柄と…異形差別のコンボね　スピナーが聞いたらなんて言うかな おいえがらと…いぎょうさべつのコンボね　スピナーがきいたらなんていうかな oiegara to...igyou sabetsu no KONBO ne   SUPINAA ga kiitara nante iu ka na “Sounds like a combo of family pedigree and heteromorph discrimination, eh? Wonder what Spinner would say if he heard this.”

7 Mr.コンプレス ミスターコンプレス MISUTAA KONPURESU Mr. Compress

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1 結果分家…遠縁同士での結婚が相次いだ けっかぶんけ…とおえんどうしでのけっこんがあいついだ kekka bunke...tooen doushi de no kekkon ga aitsuida “As a result, the family branches...had marriages with distant relatives one after another.”

2 血が濃いってそういう… ちがこいってそういう… chi ga koitte sou iu... “That’s how the blood is thick...”

3 自らを閉塞環境に置き みずからをへいそくかんきょうにおき mizukara wo heisoku kankyou ni oki “By placing themselves in a closed environment,”

4 火叢家は縮小の一途を辿り ひむらけはしゅくしょうのいっとをたどり Himura-ke wa shukushou no itto wo tadori “the Himura family steadily shrank,”

5 とうとう本家が身売りを始めたことで事実上の終焉を迎えた とうとうほんけがみうりをはじめたことでじじつじょうのしゅうえんをむかえた toutou honke ga miuri wo hajimeta koto de jijitsujou no shuuen wo mukaeta “and when finally the main family started selling themselves, it came to a de facto end.”

6 残りの僅かな氏族も離散し のこりのわずかなしぞくもりさんし nokori wo wazuka na shizoku mo risan shi “Even the few remaining clans are scattered,”

7 その中の一つだった僕は最高指導者に拾われた そのなかのひとつだったぼくはリ・デストロにひろわれた sono naka no hitotsu datta boku wa RI DESUTORO (kanji: saikou shidousha) ni hirowareta “and I was among them and then picked up by Re-Destro (read as: supreme leader).”

8 異能は世代を経るごとにより複雑に深化していく いのうはせだいをへるごとによりふくざつにしんかしていく inou wa sedai wo heru goto ni yori fukuzatsu ni shinka shite iku “As meta abilities pass through the generations, they deepen in complexity.”

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1 濃く深く こくふかく koku fukaku “In those thickly and deeply”

2 堆積した因子には たいせきしたからだには taiseki shita karada (kanji: inshi) ni wa “ingrained bodies (read as: quirk factors),”

3 本人すら知覚し得ない力が眠っているかもしれない ほんにんすらちかくしえないちからがねむっているかもしれない honnin sura chikaku shi enai chikara ga nemutte iru kamo shirenai “there may be a sleeping power that even the person himself is unaware of.”

4 だが人は心���置き去りにしたままだ だがひとはこころをおきざりにしたままだ daga hito wa kokoro wo okizari ni shita mama da “But people now leave their hearts behind.”

5 明日…何が変わるだろう あす…なにがかわるだろう asu...nani ga kawaru darou “Tomorrow...I wonder what [tomorrow] will bring.”

6 さァ次はおまえだ さァつぎはおまえだ saA tsugi wa omae da “Well, next is you.”

7 警察・ヒーローと何を話してた？ けいさつ・ヒーローとなにをはなしてた？ keisatsu・HIIROO to nani wo hanashiteta? “What were you talking about with the police and the heroes?”

8 何でもいい聞かせろ なんでもいいきかせろ nandemo ii kikasero “Let me hear anything,”

9 この戦いが終わるまでの暇つぶしに このたたかいがおわるまでのひまつぶしに kono tatakai ga owaru made no himatsubushi ni “to kill time until this battle is over.”

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1-2 群訝山荘跡より約800m ぐんがさんそうあとよりやく800メートル gunga sansou ato yori yaku 800 MEETORU Approximately 800 meters from the Gunga Mountain Villa Ruins

3-7 ハア HAA “Haah” (Note: It’s the sound of heavy panting/breathing.)

8 爆発… ばくはつ… bakuhatsu... “An explosion...”

9 だと…⁉︎ da to...!? “you say...!?”

10-11 ハア HAA “Haah” (Note: It’s the sound of heavy panting/breathing.)

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1 避難ブロックだけじゃない… ひなんブロックだけじゃない… hinan BUROKKU dake ja nai... It won’t just be the evacuation blocks...

2 今トガの増殖を抑えてるピクシーボブたちもーーー‼︎ いまトガのぞうしょくをおさえてるピクシーボブたちもーーー‼︎ ima TOGA no zoushoku wo osaeteru PIKUSHIIBOBU-tachi mo---!! Also Pixiebob and the others who are suppressing Toga’s proliferation right now---!!

3 いかん…AFO戦のダメージが脚に来ている…！ いかん…オール・フォー・ワンせんのダメージがあしにきている…！ ikan...OORU FOO WAN sen no DAMEEJI ga ashi ni kite iru...! This is bad...the damage from the battle with AFO is spreading to my leg...!

4 これ以上燈矢を誘導して遠くへ向かうにはーーー… これいじょうとうやをゆうどうしてとおくへむかうにはーーー… kore ijou Touya wo yuudou shite tooku e mukau ni wa---... I have to guide Touya and lead him farther away---...

5 あっ a “AGH”

6 お o “OH”

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1 おどおさん odoosan “FATHER”

2 見で みで mide “WATCH”

3 見でええ みでええ mideee “WAAATCH [ME]”

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1 こんなのできるよぉになったんだぜ！ konna no dekiru yoo ni nattanda ze! “I’ve become able to do something like this!”

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1 炎を ほのおを honoo wo “The flames,”

2 止めろ とめろ tomero “stop them!”

3 燈矢…‼︎ とうや…‼︎ Touya...!! “Touya...!!“

4 見でええ みでええ mideee “WAAATCH”

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1 …死なせたくない…！ …しなせたくない…！ ...shinasetakunai...! "...I don’t want you to die...!”

2 なづぐん nadzu-gun “NATSU-KUN”

3 あぞぼお…おお⁉︎ azoboo...oo!? “LET’S PLAY...YY!?”

4 もう…意識が…！ もう…いしきが…！ mou...ishiki ga...! His consciousness...is already...!

5 …俺が …おれが ...ore ga ...[Why have] I,

6 灼ける程の熱で やけるほどのねつで yakeru hodo no netsu de with a heat that burns...

7 何でここまで…保ってこられた なんでここまで…たもってこられた nande koko made...tamotte korareta Why have I...been kept here until this point?

8 燈矢…‼︎ とうや…‼︎ Touya...!! Touya...!!

9 おまえはーーー omae wa--- You---

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1 死地での危機感 しちでのききかん shichi de no kikikan A sense of crisis at death’s door.

2 臨死の経験が"個性"を覚醒させる事がある りんしのけいけんが"こせい"をかくせいさせることがある rinshi no keiken ga “kosei” wo kakusei saseru koto ga aru There have been cases where quirks have been awakened by near-death experiences.

3 その一方で人には そのいっぽうでひとには sono ippou de hito ni wa On the other hand, people

4-5 「火事場の馬鹿力」というものがあり… 「かじばのばかちから」というものがあり… 「kajiba no baka chikara」 to iu mono ga ari... have something like an insane strength of desperation... (Note: This is the level of strength Izuku tapped into against Muscular the first time where he broke his body’s limiters. The typical example is of a mother lifting a car off her child in a moment of desperation.)

6 それは覚醒とは違い それはかくせいとはちがい sore wa kakusei to wa chigai That’s different from an awakening.

7 死に瀕した時のみ顕現する力 しにひんしたときのみけんげんするちから shi ni hin shita toki nomi kengen suru chikara A power that manifests only when on the brink of death.

8 ああ… aa... “Yes...”

9 あああ！ aaa! “I get it!”

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1 冷の れいの Rei no Rei’s

2 "個性"…‼︎ "こせい"…‼︎ “kosei”...!! quirk...!!

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1 勝って かって katte I’ll win by

2 燈矢を見続ける！ とうやをみつづける！ Touya wo mitsudzukeru! continuing to watch Touya!

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1 全部 ぜんぶ zenbu “Everything”

2 俺の責任だ おれのせきにんだ ore no sekinin da “is my fault.”

-4 全部背負って償いに生きねばと思っていた ぜんぶせおってつぐないにいきねばとおもっていた zenbu seotte tsugunai ni ikineba to omotte ita “I thought I had to live and shoulder everything to make amends.”

5 でも demo “But”

6 おまえはずっと俺を見続けてたんだもんな… おまえはずっとおれをみつづけてたんだもんな… omae wa zutto ore wo mitsudzuketetanda mon na... “you were always continuing to look at me...”

7-8 おまえを見てやれなかった…… おまえをみてやれなかった…… omae wo mite yarenakatta...... “I couldn’t see you......”

9 おまえにも償わなきゃいけなかったんだ おまえにもつぐなわなきゃいけなかったんだ omae ni mo tsugunawanakya ikenakattanda “I needed to atone to you, too.”

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1 同じ夢を見る俺だけがいない家族の夢 おなじゆめをみるおれだけがいないかぞくのゆめ onaji yume wo miru ore dake ga inai kazoku no yume I saw the same dream, the dream of my family without me only.

2 …一人で逝かせはしない…だが …ひとりでいかせはしない…だが ...hitori de ikase wa shinai...daga “...I won’t let you die alone...but”

3 もう誰も…！巻き込ませはしない もうだれも…！まきこませはしない mou dare mo...! makikomase wa shinai “no one else...! We won’t involve [anyone else!]”

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1 地上の移動では間に合わない ちじょうのいどうではまにあわない chijou no idou de wa ma ni awanai They won’t evacuate the area above ground in time.

2 燈矢　おまえの火力も借りて空にーーー とうや　おまえのかりょくもかりてそらにーーー Touya   omae no karyoku mo karite sora ni--- Touya, I’m borrowing your firepower to [send us] to the sky---

3 待て…待ってくれ…！ まて…まってくれ…！ mate...mattekure...! Wait...please wait...!

4 もう少しだけーーー！ もうすこしだけーーー！ mou sukoshi dake---! Just a little more---!

1 火叢は血が濃いんだ ひむらはちがこいんだ Himura wa chi ga koinda The Himura blood runs thick.

2 冷!!⁉︎ れい!!⁉︎ Rei!!!? “Rei!!!?”

3 お母さんも おかあさんも okaasan mo You, too, Mom.

4 加担してんだよ かたんしてんだよ katan shitenda yo You're complicit.

tagline 母…‼︎ はは…‼︎ haha...!! His mother...!!

PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS POST AS A DIRECT LINK ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[useless-catalanfacts]

I assume you heard of what the Real Madrid twitter account posted, how Franco was a supported of Barça? Amazing historical revisionism, as if Catalans weren't tortured or murdered for daring to speak their language, or how even one of the directors of Barça was murdered after being accused of defending the independence of Catalonia.

I'm sure they are aware they're lying, I don't believe someone would be so ignorant to make up something like that and somehow convince themselves of it.

Basically, if someone's not aware of what happened, Real Madrid published a video saying that FC Barcelona (Barça) was favoured by the Spanish fascist dictator Franco, which is false. The team that has always been associated with Francoist beliefs is Real Madrid, so I assume they want to distance themselves from that by accusing their main rival (Barça), who also happens to be a symbol of a minority (Catalans) that was one of the main groups targeted by Spanish fascism.

Some actual historical information about Franco and Barça:

1. In 1939, all football clubs that were federated in the Catalan Federation were banned from playing. All the players' contracts were cancelled. That includes Barça. Some months later, they were reformed and could continue existing with a completely different directors/administration board accepted by the regime. (Women are banned from this position, when Barça had la Sagi.) Copying the model of Mussolini's Italy, the Francoist dictatorship gave control of sports to the Falange (the fascist party, the only party allowed) who controlled everything from the Delegación Nacional de Deportes (National Sports Delegation).

2. For the previous resolution, all of Barça's administratives are ceases and their names and files are given to the military police to control them. The board and administration of all the club was purged.

3. The regime sentenced to death and killed the president of Barça at the time (Josep Sunyol i Garriga) for being pro-Catalan.

The president of Real Madrid (Antonio Ortega) was also killed for being a communist. The difference is that nowadays, since the end of the dictatorship, Barça honours Josep Sunyol, while Madrid acts as if Antonio Ortega had never existed and doesn't have any space dedicated to him. Not only that, but if you look at Real Madrid's website, they leave an empty spot during the years that Antonio Ortega was president (1936-1939), pretending he never was and there simply was no president during those years.

All the opposite, Real Madrid honours Santiago Bernabéu (the team's stadium is named after him), who worked to bring Real Madrid closer to the dictatorship. Even before Franco gained power, in the 1920s, he said that Real Madrid defends "the Spanish pride and cause". He later enlisted in the Spanish army and joined the fascists in their coup d'etat that led to the Spanish Civil War.

4. Barça had to change their entrance tickets and their name to Spanish following Franco's illegalization of the Catalan language. It stoped being called "Futbol Club Barcelona" (Catalan) and had to be called "Club de Fútbol Barcelona" (Spanish). Consequently, the letters in the club's shield were consequently changed from F.C.B. to C.F.B. The club wouldn't get their original Catalan name back until 1973.

5. Removed the Catalan flag from Barça's shield. They had to have 2 red bars instead of the 4 bars of the Catalan flag. Later they could get it back because Barça's shield is based on the shield of the city of Barcelona, so they alleged it's just a symbol of the city.

6. Instrumentalized Barça and Athletic de Bilbao against Catalan and Basque people, since the regime identified Barça and Athletic de Bilbao as the teams that symbolise these two minority nations and their independentism. Their first match after the war was scheduled by the regime, a Barça vs Athletic de Bilbao where the whole stadium was wrapped in huge Spanish flags and were various fascist gave speeches in favour of Franco and Spanish unity, including the general Álvarez-Arenas who talked about the purges by saying he praised Barça for "having thrown away forever the anti-Spanish seed, exposing their idea of what sport entities must be patriotically, the true healthy sport to educate the masses" ("que ha sabido arrojar para siempre la semilla de los antiespañoles, exponiendo su idea de lo que patrióticamente han de ser las entidades deportivas, el verdadero n del deporte sano y educativo de multitudes").

7. The regime abolished the Catalonia League, where Barça played.

8. More purges in Barça followed after that first one. The dictatorship carried out in-depth investigations into Barça's directives and members to find people who fought for Catalan rights. Some people were accused for being in the Barça directive. Here's some extracts from the letter where the leader of the fascist police in Barcelona, Luis Martí Olivares, sent to order the arrest of some Barça directives and to order them to be taken to Madrid for trial:

In front of the statue of Casanovas, they used to celebrate acts of separatist affirmation [...]. All the directives, players and members [of Futbol Club Barcelona] have always attended it with flower crowns, offerings with the shield of the "F.C. BARCELONA"

Another one by him:

It's publicly known that the "F.C. BARCELONA" has always been political, at the beginning pro-Catalan and since a long time ago frankly separatist and for this reason they have exploited their rivalry with R.C.D. ESPAÑOL, which has been precisely the only Football Club in Catalonia that has signified themselves as a true pro-Spanish. In the matches between these two Clubs, the Barcelona fans considered the Spanishists to be foreigners, because they spoke in Spanish.

After the purges, the new dictatorship-approved directive board of Barça was made (for the 1st time in the club's history) of people who were not even members of the club. Many of them were fervent Espanyol fans, not Barça fans.

Most of their first decisions were political, including the fact that they removed the club's founder Joan Gamper as honorary president and declared the new honorary president to be the Spanish fascist general Múgica.

They also made the players taka a flower crown to the founder of Spanish fascism José Antonio Primo de Rivera, which had the Spanish flag and the Barça flag and inscription "F.C. Barcelona to José Antonio".

One of Barça's directors during the dictatorship was actually a paying Espanyol member during his time as Barça president, another director was an army general that was appointed directed by the higher spheres of the dictatorship and who openly said he was directing Barça simply because "as soldier with discipline I'm following orders".

9. Finally, in June 1946, the members of the Barça board who were actually Barça fans and cared for the club mass resigned and pressured the director to stop being a club under direct control of the dictatorship's government. Their protest resulted in the end of the regime's direct intervention, and after 10 years Barça could go back to having a new directive board, this time mostly made up of people who had always been Barça fans, though the regime still only allowed people who were officially approved.

So while Barça was directed by people who didn't care about the club and who were very badly coordinated and later was starting to re-order itself (still only with approved people), Real Madrid had its golden age, under the director Santiago Bernabéu (who was defined as "he's what Philip II was to Spain: its best king" and as we've explained before was a fascist) and a director board that had close ties to the fascist government.

The club that was most favoured by the regime during its first years was Atlético de Madrid (at the time called Atlético Aviación) which was related to the Army. But the president of Real Madrid Santiago Bernabéu got the club closer to the dictatorship and made it become the regime's favourite from the late 1950s on. Real Madrid played a very important role in fascist Spain's public relations, because that's the historical period that ended the autarchy and when fascist Spain was accepted in the UN and kept the dictatorship with the agreement of the other countries. Real Madrid acted as a political and cultural ambassador of fascist Spain in other countries. In return it received favours from the dictatorship. For example, the regime changed the sports clubs' status so that Madrid could hire Alfredo Di Stefano instead of Barça in 1953. Barça had already closed the case and the club and the player were ready to sign, but the dictatorship's direct intervention stopped it.

10. Since speaking Catalan was banned, some Catalan traditions were banned, even some Catalan songs were banned, and everyone was forced to be Spanish and a Spanish nationalist, with the National-Catholic morale imposed in every aspect of life, Barça became the place to express Catalanity. People used to go cheer for Barça as the "allowed"/hidden way of cheering against Francoism and in favour of Catalonia. This sentiment was well represented by the song "Botifarra de pagès" by the Catalan humour band La Trinca, which they released in 1974:

If you don't speak Catalan, the whole song is about how Catalans cheer for Barça as a representation of cheering for Catalan rights and link how well Barça is doing at the time with Catalanism ("l'any que ve no farem riure, visca Catalunya ------" = "next year we [Barça] won't be laughable, long live free Catalonia!" with a peeeeeep over where the word "free" woul have been) with cultural references. For example, they sing the tempo of sardanes with the name Cruyff, and change the famous quote "som i serem gent catalana, tant si es vol com si no es vol" (we are and we will be Catalan people, wether they want it or not) from the song La santa espina (song forbidden during Franco's dictatorship) with "som i serem socis del Barça, tan si es vol com si no es vol" (we are and we will be Barça fans, wether they want it or not).

11. Regardless of the club's significance to the population (because, let's be honest, everyone knew what Barça meant), it was still a club that existed under a fascist dictatorship. During the dictatorship, only approved or appointed people held office and had the power to take decisions. And if you were in that position were you had been approved, even if you had your secret political beliefs and actions, there was only so much you could do in public before getting fired, arrested, banned for life from your job, get you and your family on a watchlist and likely get tortured.

One of the "unwritten rules" during the dictatorship was that anyone who created a prize or medal had to give the 1st to Franco. Barça did that too, but they have later addressed it and taken it back.

12. In the semifinals of 1942-1943 season, Barça won against Real Madrid by 3-0. On the return match, the dictatorship's police went down to the dressing rooms to intimidate the Barça players so they would let Madrid win. The result was 11-1 (Madrid victory), which effectively gave victory of the league to Real Madrid.

13. Dictator Franco, personally, was a follower of Real Madrid. It's known that he used to comment the lineups with his officers.

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Since Real Madrid published that video some days ago, so many Spanish newspapers, magazines and TV channels have talked at length about how Barça actually helped Franco. They use as excuse the fact that the Barça under the dictatorship's control (because remember that the dictatorship chose who would lead the team, even when these people weren't Barça fans it only mattered that they were fascists) gave condecorations to the regime officials. This is worth remembering and worth criticizing, but this says more about the dictatorship than it says about Barça, especially if they want it to represent nowadays Barça. Because the thing is that this is no secret, and Barça has already addressed it in the past: in 2019, Barça officially withdrew all the medals given to Franco officials. Real Madrid still honours fascists and erases their antifascist director, and knows that they're a symbol of Spanish nationalism.

However, it seems like the people who so quickly want to run to talk shit about anything that has to do with Catalonia don't usually keep the same energy to criticize the dictatorship itself and how it intervened every aspect of life, crushing dissidence and national minorities in everything, even their hobbies, nor to make the same criticisms of Real Madrid, because it's not just about Barça but a way to attack Catalan society.

[nullnvoid911]

French national police during a protest against pension reform in Lille.

police_urgence_photographie, April 6, 2023