#I mean no harm or offence

[frikatilhi]

Old school fanvid time!

Bojere: If I were

music: Stephen Lynch - Gay

Another time another scene I'd be right behind you, if you know what I mean

Edit. testing this tumblr hack (post a photo to make your video show up in the tags)

photo: @vita_orehek_photography

[clarissaweasley-10]

WAIT-it's actually Lee-ra and not Lie-ra?uh-oh internet connection lost l cannot see or hear anything... system malfunctioning error error

[namor-shuri]

“In this essay I will….”

Original post

[your-gay-grandma]

Please grandme give us your misandry take

hello dear one! thank you very much for your question. i so love to delve into discussions such as these!

i am wary that people may offended by this take so i will try and explain as clearly as possible. if you take any offence to my reasoning, please feel free to reach out. i am always happy to engage in polite and open minded and hearted discussion! i always come from a place of trying to learn, listen and educate.

misandry is not real in the sense that it has no material consequences in the way that misogyny does. what i mean by this is that women are still systemically discriminated against in a way that has consequences we can see — they have higher rates of assault, lower pay, fewer opportunities, face general harassment and oppression, have higher rates of eating disorders and body dysmorphia due to unattainable beauty standards and have historically been oppressed in a way that has very real effects that men have not experienced.

men certainly have challenges unique to their gender, however, these do not have structural impacts to the same extent that misogyny does. here is what i mean by this — misandry is defined as any kind of dislike or prejudice against men. if this occurs, it does not broadly nor historically have the same impacts and consequences built into our very systems that misogyny does.

when we take steps to address misogyny, it is in response to structural sexism and in order to seek equity. it is not an act of misandry that disproportionately effects men. more rights for women do not mean fewer rights for anyone else (just as more rights for trans people do not impact the rights of cis people — important and partially related side note!)

when people discriminate against or oppress transgender men, it is not because they are men. therefore, people are not acting out of misandry when they do this. they are discriminating and oppressing based on the fact that the individual is trans, not that they are a man. it is therefore an act of transphobia. we must be careful to use words correctly as they carry great meaning.

based on this, i tend to conclude that misandry can be real on an individual basis. there are certainly people who have dislike or contempt for men, mostly out of retaliation or in response to the patriarchy. but misandry as a structural phenomena does not exist. it is not built into our systems. we live in a society that ultimately benefits cis white heterosexual and able bodied men first and foremost. intersectional feminism is about readdressing this.

[biblicalhorror]

Literally begging some of yall to realize taylor swift will not die if she faces some light criticism from real people who have felt hurt by her actions

[scarletblob]

Today I (1) had a task that I had promised to do, (2) realised that I did not have some information necessary to complete the task, (3) had the option of either asking someone for the information in person or delaying the task until I could write an email asking about it, (4) did neither of those because I am very averse to initiating communication with other people, especially to ask for help, and (5) stayed awake for hours instead of going to sleep, because I felt strongly that I should take action re the task first.

... I would not recommend this approach.

[beirarowling]

The way your fellow men do or don't perceive you is an all-male issue. Setting aside the fact that the vast majority of female victims of SA indicate they'd rather receive counselling in a female-only space, there is zero evidence that trans-identified men present less of a threat to women and girls than the non-trans-identified variety. In fact, there are proportionately more trans-identified men in jail in the UK currently for sexual offences than among the general male prison population.

That statistic doesn't mean I think you personally are a predator. What it does prove is that there are at least as many predators among trans-identified men as among men who don't identify as trans.

If you and fellow trans-identified men want a space where no other men go, you're free to create one. Nobody wants you raped. Nobody wants you killed or harmed in any way. But women's spaces are for women. Your inability to grasp that you aren't entitled to those spaces because you don't 'identify' as a man is not female rape survivors' problem. Seeking to breach vulnerable women's boundaries does not mark you out as one of us. On the contrary, your arguments are typical of a certain kind of male: one who thinks the satisfaction of his own needs and desires is far more important than the harm he may be causing to women.

[epickiya722]

My day today just wasn't... I woke up just feeling like it was going to be "one of those days", and my mood just soured a little after that post.

Like I wanted to post one of those long posts I usually do about anything (maybe I can work on that Miruko and Shiina post, it's not gonna be posted today I'll tell you that), but after deleting that other post, I just didn't want to anymore.

I said it before, I do try to make my voice CLEAR at what I'm talking about, but now it's just like "well, just delete it and call it a day" because I just don't have the energy for it.

[thedragonboi]

Humans evolved to be friend!!!

Probably stupid but hear me out:

• We try to pet/make friend with everything

• several different species are documented to have raised abandoned/lost humans (famously wolves, but monkeys, parrots, cats and more have raised humans)

• animals that can harm/kill us typically leave us alone (cougars don’t tend to attack unless there’s kittens around, black bears are small but they can 100% kill you if they wanted but they just kinda go away, orcas are smart enough and big enough to hunt us if they wanted to but there’s 0 wild cases of death by orca)

• there are species that are so chill with humans they literally domesticated themselves

• humans get an oxytocin boost when we see cute things, we want to be friend!!!! (Cute is subjective, some people see bugs as creepy some see bugs as friend, there’s always someone who sees something as friend!!)

• we don’t have the best natural defence or offence meaning we ride a lot on “you don’t bother me I don’t bother you” cause idk about you but I got nothing if a horse decides it’s my time to go (yeah we can build armor and weapons but we have to actively make and use them, we don’t come ready made with a suit of metal armor)

In conclusion, I’m very convinced that if we find sentient alien life either they’d find us non threatening at worst, actively adorable and cuddly at best

[yelenasdiary]

Yelena taking care of her autistic gf who has gone into sensory overload because of Natasha yelling at her because she accidentally ate the last jar of peanut butter?

Tough Day

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Autistic! Reader 

Summary: Natasha takes her bad day out on you over something small, but Yelena is there to comfort and remind you things are okay.

Angst, Comfort, Fluff.

Warnings: None? If any, please let me know! | 0.8K

Translations: Detka (baby), dorogoy (sweetheart), 

AC: Please note that I am not autistic, nor do I get sensory overload. I write this based off research. If I have written anything that is wrong or offence, please let me know as I do not mean any harm. I also want to thank everybody who helped me with this! You know who you are xx

The room was dark, curtains closed, lights off and you were sat on the floor in your most comfortable clothing trying your best to take deep breaths. You never knew Natasha would get so mad over something so small. After using the last bit of peanut butter for your sandwich, Natasha grunted and took her frustrations out on you. How were you supposed to know it was the last jar? How were you supposed to know that Natasha didn't have a backup jar? She always did.

"Seriously?! The one thing I wanted today, and you had to use the last of it?!" Her words replayed over and over in your head. The raise in her voice sent you into sensory overload, she didn't notice, she just kept dropping comments about her frustrations even stating how you rarely ever go grocery shopping and just expect everybody else to get the things you need. You apologized for your mistake and explained that you didn't realize that it was the last of the peanut butter to which she replied, "of course you didn't you just live in your own little world!" 

Yelena knocked on the bedroom room lightly, careful not to startle you. She'd been worried about you after Natasha stormed back into the gym mumbling something about peanut butter, her gut feeling told her to check on you. 

"Detka? It's me, can I come in?" she asked. You nodded; she could barely see your nod in the darkness, but it didn't take long for her to notice the state you were in. She closed the door as quietly as she could behind her and walked over to sit down beside you. She didn't touch you, she didn't speak in her normal 'inside' voice, instead she whispered. 

"Do you want some ice?" She asked in a whisper, knowing that sometimes in these moments you like to suck on some ice cubes to help remind you of the here and now. You nodded once again while continuing to keep your focus on your breathing. Yelena was gone for a few short minutes before she returned with a bottle of water and a small bowl of ice cubes. She placed them beside you and sat down on the armchair on the other side of the room and waited until you were able to talk to her.

The coldness of the ice on your tongue and the roof of your mouth helped bring some relief to the hotness you felt rushing through your body. You closed your eyes and counted to ten then back down over and over until you felt like you could get up from the floor. Yelena waited patiently, holding your favorite stuffie until she knew you would want it to cuddle with. 

"Sh-she yelled at me" you spoke ever so softly as you slowly got up from the floor and looked at your girlfriend. "Over peanut butter" you added. Yelena saw the confusing yet sadness in your eyes, you couldn't quite understand why Natasha snapped and took her bad day out on you over the empty jar. 

"I'm going to talk to her detka, she overstepped, and I won't let her do that again" Yelena replied as she stood from the armchair to hand you the stuffie. "What do you need right now? Forget about Natasha and the stupid peanut butter, I'll buy her a new jar, okay?" she added. 

"I just wanna get into bed and watch movies" you replied.

"Do you want your weight blanket?" Yelena asked, she always worried about you whenever you went into sensory overload, in fact she worried about you a lot more than she led on. Always made sure you had everything you needed before she would go off on missions, she had Kate keep an eye on you and if you needed anything Kate would be there for you. Yelena tried not to go on the super long missions, sometimes she couldn't avoid it but she always checked in with you when she could. 

"Yes please" you said as you got into the shared bed, grabbing the television remote from your bedside table. Yelena grabbed your weighted blanket from the wardrobe and placed it comfortably over you. "Thank you, Lena" you smiled softly at her, your tired eyes telling her just how exhausted you were. 

"Get some rest detka, I'll go cook your favourite for dinner and bring it up to you when it's dinner time" Yelena replied before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Wait" you gently grabbed her arm, "can you stay? Please" you asked, looking up at her. 

Yelena nodded, "of course dorogoy"

You snuggled up to Yelena the moment she got into bed beside you, her arm wrapped around you while you flicked through Netflix to find an easy and comforting movie to watch. Once you found one of your favorite comfort movies, you snuggled more into Yelena, whispering a soft 'thank you' for being there for you. She placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and held you a little extra tight while you fell asleep in her arms.

Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | 

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

How does it look? Ah, it’s an improvement

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Ok, so another gap between updates, but for everyone that's still here, I hope you guys enjoy it, your comments and asks give me life 💕

Part 6 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

In the days after your little run in with König at the gym, things had been tense with the guys. So much so that until you could find time for a ‘covert’ date, you’d tried to avoid him like the plague. Of course that meant that he was open to attack from the rest of your team, but you figured, what harm could they really do? Well as it turned out, after finally lifting your self imposed ban, he’d said they’d been on him like bloodhounds.

Apparently there was no limit they would reach to defend your honour, not that it needed defending in the first place (but you couldn’t tell them that). After a mixture of the guys trying to warn him, threaten him, jump out at him, knock his tea off of the counter and throw his food in the bin, they’d made it difficult for König to do much of anything around base. Your mind had buzzed in a near constant state of anxiety, waiting to see what they’d do next.

Luckily for your frayed nerves and König’s safety however, they stopped being as harsh to him as time went on. In only a couple weeks in fact, they’d stopped attempting to jump him and threaten him away from you, and instead took to glaring at him and giving him what you called the ‘school girl treatment’. Sure, bitching about him and saying they couldn’t wait to put Ex Nihilo in the ground once and for all so they could flush out KorTac wasn’t particularly helpful for team morale, but it meant that you didn’t need to worry about your lover getting shanked anymore. 

If you were being honest, you couldn’t help but feel he deserved it a little given it had been his bright idea to rile you up in the first place. That’s what you get for trying to show off in front of Ghost. However that didn’t mean you didn’t still worry for him, far from it. You were practically biting your tongue off whenever König would happen across your path. 

“Didn’t anyone tell you the love of your life aint in your chain of command Soap?”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

You snorted as Soap shot you a glare. He’d momentarily distracted himself from pinning Ghost only to end up rolled over and under the heavy frame of the Lieutenant - who he’d only just managed to hold down himself. His body landed on the ground with a thundering crash, and at the very same time he let out a small ‘oof’ you held your hands at your mouth and tried to hold back on the stream of laughter threatening to burst out. Not that that was any use, you were breaking in no time, squealing like a kid. Served him right for getting cocky. He’d been leaning hard into Ghost, his eyes level and lips caught in a ridiculous smirk. 

“Looks like the next rounds on you again, Johnny boy!” Ghost chuckled, releasing Soap before he snapped something.

“No! No, no, no, I call bullshit on that,” Soap huffed, jumping to his feet like a jack in the box. “The only reason you won was because that little dick couldn’t keep their mouth shut.”

Your fellow sergeant held an accusing finger up at you, his face going pink in anger. Sore loser. You gasped in mock offence then proceeded to shoot him your best puppy eyes and shrugged, perfecting a show of innocence that would make an angel weep. 

“Me?”

“Yes you! Love of your life’s not in your chain of command’,” he echoed, pitching your words up like a little girl. “Fuck off!”

“I don’t sound like that,” you sniggered, watching as his face got redder. “Don’t be a sore loser Soap.”

Soap hit the mat just shy of his thigh, pounding it as if it were a way to wage revenge, working himself up as you and Ghost continued to laugh like hyenas. 

Ghost eventually joined your side, he picked up the water bottle he’d abandoned by his workout gear and took a long gulp, huffing as he lowered the bottle back down. Ghost’s breathing was laboured and you could smell the sharp stench of sweat coming off of him in waves, apparently even with your intervention, that hadn’t been an easy victory. You knew that well enough yourself, you were only barely able to beat him sometimes, he’d earned his nickname just as much as you’d merited yours. 

“I almost had the bastard this time!” Soap huffed, slumping. “If it hadn’t a’ been for you.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better I’ll pay for it,” you offered, rising to your feet. “Given you both go get a shower, you guys fuckin’ stink.”

Soap smirked at that, his eyes regaining their lost spark as if he’d been given a jumpstart. You didn’t care for it. 

“Really? I don’t think I smell too bad,” Soap said, his voice taking on an edge again. “C’mere, let me make you really pay for it!”

“Wait, what are you- ew! No! Get away from me!” 

You squealed as Soap made a dash for you and hopped out the way from his grabbing arms, jumping away like a scared cricket. Unfortunately he was blocking the exit, forcing you into the corner of the room, keeping you on the edge of your toes while he held his arms up, torturing you with the threat of a hug. It took everything in you to keep track of where the mats were and not to slip on the shiny wooden floors, squeaking with every step you took as you frantically traversed the hall. 

“It’s just like you said Sneaky, can’t fraternise outside my rank. Guess that just leaves you!” He laughed, making another unsuccessful lunge at you. 

“I’m sure Gaz…is around here somewhere,” you said, breathing hard as you continued to duck and dive from him.

Despite Mactavish’s best efforts, you still managed to elude him. When he leapt for you, you strafed away and even when he’d successfully grab your arm, you’d break his hold before he could wrap you in his stinking death grip. 

You were so close to the exit now. You’d danced your way there, too busy walking backwards and throwing Soap off of your intentions that you were taken unawares when you backed into something solid where an empty doorway should’ve been. It was only when two familiar big hands drew round your frame to steady you, that you realised exactly who you’d bumped into. 

“Careful Sergeant,” König said, his voice surely thick with a grin. “I see training in the 141 is as rigorous as ever.”

You sigh, taking a cautious look over at Ghost who has his eyes locked on the offensive figure behind you. Even as Ghost stood there smelling like week old laundry he’d acted as if König had dragged putrid roadkill into the room and asked him to take a bite. 

“You wanna test how good our training is, König?” Soap barked, puffing his chest out like a cartoon gorilla.

You rolled your eyes.

“No thank you, I’m afraid I’d get terribly bored.”

“Funny,” Ghost said plainly, tilting his head. “Maybe we could find out how interesting you find us once you let go of Sneak. Could make sure those dirty mitts don’t linger too long again.”

You could feel his fingers dig into your skin, and with just a cursory glance up to the slits in König’s mask, you knew he hadn’t been meaning to clutch onto you for so long. Though, even in your haste to be subtle you didn’t miss the wink he gave you when he let you go, or the way his fingers brushed against you like falling silk. Clearly someone had been missing you. Probably as much as you’d missed him. 

“Apologies,” he’d said, not able to resist whispering after, “lucky for him he doesn’t know where these ‘mitts’ were last weekend.”

You choked on your next breath and turned so that your back was to the others before they could see your haunted expression. König was becoming a master of landing you in the shit. Even as you tried to glare at him, your paranoid mind wondered if they could see your body buzzing with worry. 

“Why are you here, König?” you asked, voice shaking with a hundred different emotions.

Even under the darkness of his full hood, König’s eyes sparkled with mischief and you didn’t miss the playful raise of his brows. He was continuing to wage war on you, even when you giving him the ‘stop fucking with me’ look. He was going to hear about that later. 

“Curiously enough, Price sent me. He wanted me to tell you to come to his office.”

Everyone’s breaths were collectively stolen from the room. 

“Price? Price asked you to talk to Sneak for him?” Soap said dubiously, first to ask before anyone else could.

You were too busy wondering if he’d figured something out. 

“Funny isn’t it?” König said, his gaze squarely fixed on you. “He was in a rush to sort something and unfortunately for him, I was the only one around. I think you’re being sent off on a mission.”

You didn’t miss the way his voice dropped in disappointment. If you were going away with Price then it was anyone’s guess how long you’d be away for. Last time he’d spirited away with Gaz he’d disappeared for days, and come back afterwards sagging like a melted ice cream. Whatever you’d be doing, it’d likely tire you out just as much and even if you were to come back through the weekend you’d likely be beat just the same. With that in mind, you knew it was unlikely you’d get to carry out your fun weekend plans with König. That meant it’d be a whole week’s wait until you got to meet with him again. 

Fuck.

“Oh…thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course. Can’t ignore an order from the Captain.”

The ‘unfortunately’ didn’t have to be said, it hung in the air between you two like black clouds of smoke. It took everything in you to ignore him from then on, turning instead to your things and stuffing them into your pockets. Your ears burned as they traced his footsteps fading from the doorway, and your chest grew heavy knowing you’d be missing him like hell until you could see him again. 

“Fancy that, Price going against his own orders,” Ghost said, folding his bulging arms over his chest. 

Always looking for a fight. 

“Fuck, probably didn’t even ask that cunt. The thing probably ate the guy that was actually supposed to come get Sneak,” Soap sniggered, finally emerging from his huff.

Oh yeah, they’d taken to calling König names now as well. They particularly enjoyed comparing him to a horrific bug monster which, even as childish as that was, was a little entertaining to you given you knew how much he hated that particular film when you’d tried to show it to him. He didn’t care for monster flicks. 

“I don’t think he’d lie,” you shrugged, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Really? I think he’d stab his own mother just to get a giggle,” Ghost snorted.

Clearly you don't know him very well. You laughed even in spite of knowing that what your Lieutenant said wasn’t remotely true, maybe even because you knew how ridiculous it was. They had a lot of fun making him out to be a raging sadist when as far as they were aware he’d done no worse than them on the field. König would stab himself before a hair on his mothers head came to harm, he practically gave half his wage just to make sure she ate well every month. 

“Maybe. Even so, I better go see what Price wants. Must be deadly urgent if he was desperate enough to send König,” you said, heading back toward the exit. 

“True. Sure you don’t want a reassuring hug before you go?” Soap asked, making a move like he’d come bounding up to you.

“Nope! Not even if this is the job I die on,” you called, speed walking down the corridor before he got any bright ideas. 

-☠️-

Just as König had said, you ended up pulled away with Price on reconnaissance. Now, while you’d much rather have been curled up in a hotel room with König and living out your lazy weekend plans, it turned out being away wasn’t all that bad. For one thing, Price was practically his old self with you again and for another it was good to get away from the rest of the 141. 

Constantly having to listen to them verbally disassemble the man that you were secretly in love with was a lot and it took everything not to sit there and defend him sometimes. Even then that would just result in an uproar about how you let people treat you. At that point you’d take Price’s steady quiet presence and occasional rumbles about coffee and football anyday. 

“You seeing anything Sneaky?”

Price’s hushed voice crackled over your comms, the tiny earpiece was flooding with interference from the busy market. Crowds of people swarmed and overflowing stalls that were bursting with goods, with salesmen boasting about their produce and wares like it was the last day on earth to buy anything. The heat beat down on your back and your outfit did little to help with the glaring sun, one of the pitfalls of wearing baggy clothing to conceal weapons. Your scent mingled with the rest of the sweltering bodies that bumped your sides and moved around you, but most of all you scented the rich foods and the old antiques that filled the stalls. Your senses were going wild, overstimulated to the max. 

“Not a fuckin’ thing,” you finally muttered.

You’d been sent out to intercept a meeting between two Ex Nihlio members, according to intel gathered from KorTac earlier in the week they were supposed to meet by one of the spice stalls. It was your job to route them out and figure out if they knew anything about Rousseau’s whereabouts. Only issue was that you were drowning in spice stalls. Both you and Price had taken turns dressing up like tourists with your big nikon cameras and neon bags and were playing a game of spot the terrorist cell with only a prayer that you hadn’t already missed them. 

Price was taking his turn up on the roof, nestled conveniently in a skillion like a bird of prey about to strike, watching and waiting with his binoculars up and gun at the ready. You felt safe knowing he was with you, his mumbled words of reassurance kept you sane as you traversed the labyrinthian pathways over and over and had to pretend to take an interest in various trinkets. 

However, you’d been on the streets for a couple hours now, you knew that soon enough you’d have to swap again and it’d be your turn to play sniper on the roof. That was - If your aching feet were anything to go by. You sighed and took a look around, deciding to do one last sweep around the stalls before you joined Price and relieved him of his position. 

“Hold on Sneak, turn around - don’t be obvious,” Price said, voice coming in low and grizzled from disuse. 

You froze in your spot and swallowed, committing yourself to your new task, taking a moment to look through your pockets before palming a warm penny. With a fake gasp, you sent it rolling behind you and leaned down, walking a few paces so that you could retrieve the penny off the ground while looking around for the source of Price’s interruption. When you looked up to the row of stalls across from you, you saw what he’d tipped you off on.

“Try to get in close.”

Situated next to an array of autumn coloured spice piles, were two men wearing dark shirts and trousers, talking hushedly to one another. While you couldn’t be absolutely sure that they were Ex Nihlio, you knew that it didn’t look like they were there to shop. You glanced away from them for a moment and set your sights on a curio stall next to them, stepping almost silently over the gritty path until you reached your target.

Their voices were low, coming in softer than a light breeze, but still you managed to catch a little of what they were saying and you knew the receiver would too. You tilted your head toward them, trying to give Price the best chance of hearing them too; all while you picked up a tiny bird figure barely bigger than one of your digits and held it to your eyes. You softly ran your fingers over the wood like you might bring it to life somehow and turned it this way and that, inspecting it carefully - it was important to make your fascination with the object look convincing. 

“Your orders are clear, you are not allowed to move forward.”

“But we have everything in place, we’re ready! I don’t understand.”

The men were tense, their voices strained as they endeavoured to stay quiet. 

“We have to be more reserved now. Ever since…he was taken and the tourists were found, things have been different. Plan’s changed.”

“What! because his-”

“Quiet! Not another word. This visit in itself was a courtesy only extended to you, we’ve had to stop everything we had planned, things have changed.”

“I don’t accept that. We have to keep the momentum going or we won’t be taken seriously.” 

You breathed out quietly, watching as the stall owner started approaching you and you let a smile melt onto your face, trying to keep up the dumb tourist charade. The woman looked keen as she approached, face reminiscent of a fox’s with her eager golden eyes and high cheekbones. Her lips were curved into a grin and she hunched over the counter tactically surveying her eyes over your form. She was probably anticipating someone stupid, someone that could be easily fleeced. 

“It’s a nice statue isn’t it? Are you interested in buying?”

“Uh, yeah I think so, it’s really cute,” you said with a short unsure laugh, trying to keep your voice low enough for Price to hear over. “How much is it though?”

Regrettably for her you weren’t going to be the easy mark that she’d assessed you as. Nevertheless, you still hoped to god she wasn’t going to ask for too much. You’d figured before setting out that you needed to buy some stuff so that you could blend in, but you hadn’t brought an awful lot and you’d already gotten some pastries and drink with the paltry change. Plus the little swallow, for all its tiny size, was very detailed, it’s little carved tail and wing feathers and dark wood would surely drive the cost up. Then there was also the fact that there was no way you’d be able to just accept the given price, you’d have to negotiate so that you had a reason for sticking around. 

While you desperately strained to try and hear the argument ensuing between the two men next to you, you weakly haggled with the woman giving her numbers that her lips upturned like a direly unamused theatre mask. Eventually though you both reached an agreement and the little figure was yours, but now you had to work out your next move. 

“‘We are from nothing, and we will fight each day until they can never reduce our names to the dirt again’- remember when that was our calling? Remember when we committed to a cause that day, does that mean nothing to you? We must act now!”

“It must mean nothing to you, if you are willing to risk everything just for a moment of glory.”

You didn’t have to struggle to blend in much longer. 

A loud shot rang out above the swathes of people around you and suddenly the entire market descended into chaos and terror, people ran and screamed and hid; fleeing like pigeons. You looked over to where the two men had been and saw only one now as he rushed away into the crowd while the other lay dead and bloody on the ground. The man’s pupils were tiny pin pricks staring emptily into the glaring sun, all life torn from the deserted vessel of his body. He’d gone back to nothing after all. 

“Price, I'm going after him.”

You tore your eyes from the dead man and chased after his killer, trying desperately to catch up as he faded into the crowds. You weaved and ducked, trying to remain discreet even still as you traced his path and took advantage of the wake he left in the crowd. He was like a speedboat tearing through choppy seas, disgruntled people were pushed to the side and made to move as he bulldozed through and gave you plenty of opportunity to follow. 

“You need to stop, Sneak. We don’t know if he has friends hiding around the area! Do you hear me? Stop! Sneak, how copy?”

Price was too late. You’d collided with the man already, strategically shoving him into an alleyway and underneath your body. You both breathed hard, groaning as your knees and his back made contact with the hard ground, but neither of you could afford to feel it for long. He fought his way up, reaching for a knife he’d stowed in a thigh pocket and attempted to plunge it into you before you disarmed him, smashing his wrist against the wall and pounding it with your other. 

“I got him pinned down, we’re in the alley a few streets up, he’s fighting back pretty hard,” you growled, thoroughly out of breath from trying to subdue the squirming screaming man. 

“That’s not what I ordered!”

“Well what are my orders now?” you asked, gritting your teeth as you punched the man, narrowly missing being hit first. 

Price didn’t speak for a beat, the silence was tense as you fought to subdue your target, filled with your gasping breaths and struggling bodies scraping against the grit like sandpaper. You could practically feel the steam that was pouring from Price’s ears coming in through the earpiece, sweat was pooling all over your body, exertion and heat were kicking in. After a moment, your captain finally responded through gritted teeth, his voice crackling all the more as you realised that he was on the move. 

“Coming to you now. Hold him there.”

Easier said than done. You felt like a bull rider as you bucked around on top of the stranger trying to subdue his movements with as little force as possible. While it was important to make sure he was kept down and kept quiet, you couldn’t do too much damage or it was worthless even stopping him in the first place. Clearly this man was in contact with Rousseau or at least someone very close to him, so it was of the utmost importance that you brought him in lucid and ready to spill. Or rather spill after some convincing, the look in his eye was that of a man that wouldn’t give you any satisfaction for nothing. 

His teeth were bared at you like an animal, one of them metallic and glinting in the sliver of light that emerged through the darkness. His eyes were wild like a feral lion. There was something about his face that terrified you in that moment, the sheer determination to kill you, the will of a man with conviction in his cause to tear you down. You had the upper hand though, finally you’d been able to reach the pistol you’d secreted away at your side and pulled it on him, holding it against him with a soundless ultimatum. 

“Get the fuck off me! I’ll have your eyes for this, fucking scum!”

The man ranted and screamed, but even still you weren’t deterred from your task. You kept him pinned down with the gun snug at his temple, praying that Price would be there soon. Luck wasn’t on your side that day though, rarely ever was, suddenly you were sailing onto your back. Stars filled your vision, light melting as the sky faded far away. It was somewhat reminiscent of what you’d seen happen days before, Ghost on top of Soap after his failed victory, Soap stuck to the ground like a monkey under a tigers paw. 

“Are you alright?” a voice asked.

Someone that you didn’t recognise, an accent you couldn’t place. 

“I’ll be fine! Finish them off and let’s go,” your target responded.

You winced, expecting that to be your final moment, the last thing you ever heard was a dismissal of your efforts. Through the murky darkness two eyes flashed through your head, two crystalline pools that opened like planets in the empty space of your mind. In your mind, König looked back on you smiling, his watchful gaze always reminding you of an angel while he loomed over you, bare chested and warm just like he’d been at the hotel.

Had that been your last though you would’ve died happy, you decided. 

Though you weren’t going to die that day, not yet. Another gunshot blasted through the atmosphere, ricocheting in your ears, but as you were still around to hear it and you weren't lying there in blinding pain - well not any more than you’d felt before the gun fired - you deduced the man had missed. Instead another man’s scream rang out and a flurry of footprints followed, scraping to get away. 

You opened your eyes, finally able to see again, but felt blinding pain replace your stolen vision. It coursed through your skull and rattled through your back, making you hiss as you sat up and stradied yourself on your scraped up hands. Colours and shapes swelled and swirled before your eyes before condensing and becoming clear. Price took form in front of you seconds later, his hands tight on your shoulders as he grabbed you and gave you a look over, running his hand gently over your head as if you were his child. 

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he muttered, eyes narrowing harshly as he realised you were ok. “You had no idea who else was there and wouldn’t you know it - who should show up, but one of his little friends”

“I…I already had him before you said to let him go,” you groaned, blinking furiously as you tried not to let the darkness at the edge of your vision take over.

“Is that right? Well, well done to you and your fucking initiative,” he groaned, “Look at you, you look like you’re going to fall apart. Are you ok, can you see?”

“Feels like it too,” you said, smiling weakly. “I can see, things just got hazy for a second there…Did you send the rest of the team after them?”

Price rolled his eyes, the bags under them looking pinched as he kept looking you over. Another group of soldiers had been kept on standby, ready to swoop in and drive you and whoever you might capture, but it didn’t look like Price was thinking of them then. He was focused on you, kneeling across from you and surveying for any changes. He let go of your shoulders, instead propping you up against an old crate that sat abandoned in the alley. 

“Course I sent them,” he said eventually. “Don’t think they’ll catch up though.”

“Fuck,” you hissed, feeling the full weight of the blow to your head.

“How bad’s the wound?” you asked, wincing as your fingers came away from it with blood. 

“Not bad. Not good either though,” Price deadpanned. “I’ll walk you out of here in a minute. I just want to make sure you’re going to stay awake.”

“Walk? You mean we can’t call an Uber?”

Price didn’t see the funny side of your joke, he shook his head and ran a hand through his beard, taking extra time to scratch as he reached the thicker sides. He was deep in thought, trying to process what had happened, and work out where to go from there. There was a look in his eyes he always got when he was catastrophizing, and you could tell he was in full crisis mode. His steady hands and stiff posture only served to throw off people that didn’t know him well enough. 

“What is it?”

“Two of em’ have seen your face now.”

You had already thought of that. 

“I know,” you said quietly, finally looking away from him. 

Neither of you said anything else for a second. You focused in on the crowd behind you instead, the people that still rushed through the streets trying to avoid a silent threat that had already run far from their paths. Their voices and scampering feet echoed and danced through the alleyway, distracting you from your pain for a moment. Thought still coursed through you in the background, remained swirling through your body like a snake constricting around your brain and back.

“We need to get you out of here and get you to a medic.”

You nodded, you wouldn’t fight him on that. A medic would have pain killers. You tried to rise on your own, gripping the rough wooden crate like a lifeline, but found yourself almost collapsing again until Price rushed to your side and held you up, grunting as he bore your weight. Through the vignette of your fading vision you could see the tight lipped grimace he was giving you and knew you were probably sporting a similar look of your own. 

“Don’t try to move on your own, let me help you,” Price growled.

“You gonna carry me all the way back to car?” you asked sceptically, remembering how far you had to go. 

“Can’t bloody well leave you. We don’t know if that bastard’s got more friends hanging around.”

“You could stick me in another alley and bring the car closer?” you asked, already knowing what his answer would be, 

“Not a chance. C’mon, get moving those feet. That’s an order!”

Stubborn. 

You grit your teeth and felt the pain shoot through your back and curl up in your stomach as you moved. You knew you hadn’t broken anything, but you were still feeling the effects of getting winded and the weeping head wound wasn’t helping matters either. Bile rose in your throat at the thought and even as Price kept his arm slung tightly round you, you felt your feet waver and drag across the ground, felt your mind struggling to keep going as your body began to give up. 

“Talk to me. Don’t give out on me now,” Price demanded, his breaths coming out punchy like wind hitting a sail. 

“Talk about what?” you laughed, wincing with the movement.

“Anything. Keep yourself focused, talk about anything.”

“Ok,” you conceded, thinking for a moment as you were dragged through an empty street. “Why’d you send König to come get me the other day?”

“Really? That’s all you could think of?” Price scoffed.

You were in too much pain to feel any shame or hesitation about pushing. In fact, it was the perfect time to bring up König because there weren’t going to be many other chances for you to leverage a head wound to discuss the subject. It was the perfect thing to direct your energy on and keep you upright. 

“You’re the one that told me I wasn’t to speak to him again,” you said measuredly. “It made me wonder why you’d send him to speak to me.”

“He was the only one around and the General wanted us gone ASAP.”

“You could’ve messaged.”

“I needed to make sure you knew to come right away.”

“Are you saying I’m not reliable?” you grinned, almost tripping on a fallen basket because you were so pleased with yourself.  

You and Price stopped just before your feet could stumble over the fallen produce and rerouted around it, huffing with exertion. Price’s back was sweating just as much as yours and once again you found yourself cursing at the sun, vowing that you would never spend another minute more in the heat if it meant you could be sent to a cold room with a full deck of meds ready at your disposal. 

“If you really want to know, I figured I could trust you now,” Price said, readjusting his grip on you. “After all that's happened.”

“Oh really?”

“Well you wouldn’t want to go near him now after what happened would you?” 

You had to hold back a bout of laughter, disguising it easily with a cough. If only he knew.

“Suppose not,” you answered.

“It’s better that way…associating with a man like that, you’d only end up at the top of someone’s shit list.”

“You think he’s got enemies?” 

“Why else do men like Ghost and König wear masks?” he huffed. “You’d be vulnerable with him, even if he is a one man army. He couldn't protect you if the people he’d pissed off came after you.” 

You pursed your lips and looked toward the end of the street, sighing as you remembered the car wasn’t that far away. The last thing you needed when you were trying not to go wobbly was Price making you doubt König. Instead you faced forward and kept on marching, narrowing your eyes as you fought off the darkness. 

-☠️- 

“Are you absolutely sure that you like wearing that shirt?”

You laughed as König hovered above you, pausing in his assault on your neck so that he could play with the hem at your neckline. His hemline rather. 

“You said you wanted to look after me this week, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah, but not at the expense of my only clothing,” he said, smiling at you with narrowed eyes.

You rolled your eyes at him and kissed him, planting your lips firmly on his so as to silence his protests. All was right in the world again. You’d been dismissed for a week because of your head wound, something about you having suffered from a concussion before so you were being forced to take leave and had decided to spend your time wisely. In other words, telling Price you were going to visit family, when in actuality you were shacked up in an airbnb close to the base so that König could come visit you and stay the night. 

Eventually he broke away from you and shook his head, rolling off the bed and causing an earthquake, causing the springs to groan and for the mattress to shake like jelly beneath you. You watched him as he stood and stretched. His body illuminated by the streetlamps outside the windows, the dull yellow contrasting harshly with the dark blue shadows that snaked over his taut muscles, meeting like intertwined fingers at his ribs.

“Is it because it's the Rammstein one?” you asked, sitting up to admire him easier. “Because I’m taking good care of it.”

He shook his head again and made his way to the door. 

“I know you’re taking good care of it. I just don’t have a lot of shirts to wear,” he explained, disappearing for a moment. 

You huffed and folded your arms, obscuring the blocky logo in the tangle of your intertwined limbs. The guilt trip wasn’t going to work, this was your shirt. You felt like you’d earned it after you’d forgotten home comforts and stayed in a stranger’s house all to be with him. Not that he wasn’t taking fantastic care of you. 

You watched as he came back in with a couple glasses of water and set them down on each of your respective bedside tables and disappeared again so he could grab two bowls, walking in with steam obscuring his face. You unfolded your arms, forgetting all about your upset and took in what he’d brought you. He’d heated some soup for you both and ensured that you were propped up nicely before placing yours in your lap, joining you at your side so that he could eat his. The smell of parmesan and vegetables drifted into the air, forcing your stomach to growl in anticipation. 

“Thank you, König,” you hummed.

The soup was delicious. It was unmistakably from the Italian deli that König knew you liked to frequent as a treat and you’d deduced he must’ve been earlier in the day to pick up a takeaway just for you. Even if he were being a stickler about his clothes, he still remained sweet and ensured you had every little comfort you could want for while you recovered.

Truth was, you hadn’t really felt that bad once you’d been patched up and given a few Codeine. The pain in your head had dulled to a low thud and more than anything it was background noise to the host of other complaints you could make about your battle torn body. Though König wouldn’t hear of it. He demanded that you stay in bed as he fussed around you and cuddled you like a sickly kitten. It was a wonder you were allowed to even roam the apartment by yourself with the way he coddled you, a miracle you weren’t wrapped in cotton wool and shrunk into his pocket for safe keeping. 

“Why is it that you’d want to wear one of my dirty shirts anyway?” König asked, breaking the silence.

You snorted, only just swallowing the spoonful of soup you’d taken and shrugged, a coy smile weaving its way onto your face. 

“It smells like you. Makes me feel safe,” you said finally, only a smidge embarrassed.

“And what do I smell like?”

“I dunno…just like you,” you shrugged. “Manly I guess, and I can smell that stupid cheap citrusy soap you use.”

“Don’t belittle my soap just because you like to buy the best,” he retorted. 

“That’s right, practicality over frivolity…How German,” you said with a sly smile. 

He froze mid spoonful, just about to eat another before he paused and shot you a withering side eye. You’d delighted in finding out another way to tease him, getting to play with him all you wanted while you recovered. 

“You call me German one more time, I’m taking the shirt off your back and leaving you naked to fend for yourself,” he said simply

“Oh c’mon, you’d never do that.”

“I just might,” he smiled, taking his last spoonful and letting the cutlery clatter to the empty bowl. “You know the difference.”

“In fairness you did live there for quite a while until you moved back again.”

“Yeah, and that's an even better reason for me to enjoy being Austrian.”

“Such a mean man, poor Germany!”

You playfully shoved at his thigh with your foot and giggled when he caught it in his hand and threw it back. It sent you both laughing and soon you abandoned your soup bowl onto the table and took your little game to the next level, diving onto him before you were promptly flipped onto your back and pinned under König, resuming your usual position.

“Poor Sneak,” he laughed ominously. “Still hellbent on defending the Germans?”

“If I say yes are you gonna do that thing I hate?”

“Only one way to know for sure.”

You huffed out a breath and weighed up your options, deciding if it was really worth being tickled just to keep teasing him. In the end, you didn’t get to decide, you winced as you felt a firework of pain burst through your head and closed your eyes for a second, bunching them shut like you could forget about it behind the darkness of your closed lids. Suddenly you were grateful you were lying down surrounded by the soft topaz sheets. 

“Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” König gasped, stroking his thumb over your cheek. 

“I’m alright, it wasn’t anything you did,” you assured after a second, taking in a deep breath. “I think it’s time for me to take my meds actually. Is it after eight thirty?”

König leaned up from you and rooted around for his phone. You prayed you were right. 

“Yeah, Eight forty. If you sit up, I’ll get them out for you.”

You followed through with his request, inching up the covers and seething with every little jarring shake the bed gave you. It felt like your head was going to burst into a confetti cloud with the amount of pressure that was building. You couldn’t wait till the headaches were done with. 

“Here, take these,” König murmured, handing you the pills and your forgotten glass of water.

You threw them back and drank down a big gulp of water, focusing on not choking as you swallowed them as fast as you could. This was one of the worst pains you’d had with it since it’d happened. Stars twinkled at the edge of your vision until slowly, after a little breathing and König stroking your back, you were able to open your eyes and stare back him as he watched you those big doleful eyes of his. 

“I’m alright now, it’s ok,” you smiled, trying to reassure him. 

“Mm, it’s far from ok,” König hissed, staring harshly to his side for a moment. “If I ever get my hands on those who did this to you, they’ll be sorry.”

You widened your eyes a moment as his fury sunk in and both of you stared at each other for a tense minute. You sat hoping your understanding of the situation might be infectious, wishing he’d accept that they’d just gotten the upper hand. What happened wasn’t personal. He shook his head and let the heat escape him, the fire left his eyes and deflated him, leaving him staring down at the bed a moment until you spoke again. 

“I know how I’d feel if it were the other way around,” you sighed, knowing he’d need a little reassurance you weren’t going to run terrified. “But you don’t need to be angry for me. I’m fine, this’ll all be better in a few days, ok?”

He didn’t speak for a second, not until he looked back up at you. 

“Ok.”

“Good. Now, c’mere and give me a hug so I feel better.”

His smile returned, curving back onto his lips like magic. You smiled in turn and watched as he put your meds back in the drawer by your bedside, but frowned when he paused and stared inside. He chucked the foil packet back in its place but reached in and retrieved whatever had caught his attention, bringing it front of you in the palm of his hand.

“What’s this?” he asked curiously. 

You tilted your head and smiled as you realised it was the wooden swallow you’d unpacked from your bag earlier and shrugged. 

“It was the bird I got from the market that day,” you explained. “I found it when I was going through my bag today and chucked it in the drawer.”

He raised his brows and brought the little figure closer to his face, admiring the fine details of it not dissimilarly to the way you’d stared at it in the market. You tilted your head as you watched him and bit your lip, watching the way his eyes took in the little bird with an intense fascination. 

“Why don’t you keep it?” you offered. “And then you let me wear this for the rest of the week.”

You rolled your shoulders, showing that you wanted to keep the shirt. König chuckled, but after pretending to be deep in thought about it, sporting a deep frown and a pursed lip, he eventually nodded. 

“I suppose I could allow that… we can have shared custody. I get the bird one week and then the shirt for the next,” he said, coming to rest by your side with his arm outstretched, making the bird fly in looping patterns in the air. “Deal?”

You laughed to yourself, but nodded, settling into his warm chest with a satisfied sigh. 

“Sounds like a good deal to me.”

Next Part Here

[theflashjaygarrick]

It's a missed opportunity that despite Roy Harper and Jason Todd hanging out now there's been never any tension between about them or exploration of their differing approaches and perspectives on the drug crisis. Particularly because for both of them it is deeply personal.

Roy Harper.

Roy became addicted to drugs in the 1971 comic Snowbirds Don't Fly which was Neil Adam’s and Dennis O'neill's attempt to tackle the "youth's greatest problem!" drug use and addiction. I feel like all most people know is that Speedy took drugs and Ollie took it badly, but that honestly ignores the whole point of the story. The story challenged contextual stigma around addiction and drug use as a personal failing or something that only happened to weak people. It explored how it could happen to anyone, even a hero like Speedy. It focused on the social factors such as racism and poverty and how they push people into substance abuse as a way to cope. It even turns the trope of the evil foreign drug cartel on its head by making the guy behind the drug supply a wealthy white American man in who runs a Pharmaceutical company, doesn't do drugs, and actively mocks the people he profits off the suffering of.

The point therefore is twofold. Firstly, drug users are people just like you and me and it is vital to be compassionate to people struggling with addiction. Ollie who yells at and hits Roy and leaves him due to anger and fear is clearly in the wrong. Hal and Dinah who look after Roy and stand beside him at his friend's funeral and as he confronts Ollie are clearly in the right. Secondly, the solution is not to focus on the drugs but instead to deal with the systemic problems of inequality, oppression, trauma and disenfranchised youth.

Despite parts of it ageing bad (the use of slurs was to demonstrate the damage of racism, but I feel uncomfortable having slurs uncensored in a comic book written by white authors) it is a surprisingly progressive take on addiction for a mainstream 70s DC comic. It also clearly demonstrates Roy's opinion on the drug problem and how to deal with it. He sees anger and going after dealers/manufacturers (like Ollie did) to not be enough. Instead the real change comes from helping the people in that situation by improving their lives and compassionately helping them at their worst.

Enter Jason Todd.

For context Jason Todd has had almost his entire life shaped by trauma of substance abuse. His (adoptive) mother Catherine struggled with addiction and overdosed just months before he met Batman, effectively orphaning him. Soon after he was found by Batman who essentially drafted him into his crusade on crime, not considering that being a vigilante may be potentially damaging for an already traumatised child.

But when he came back in UTRH he decided he could best help Gotham if he killed (largely non-costumed) criminals and controlled the city's criminal underworld himself. After violently assuming control of the drug trade, Jason imposed his own rules for dealers, most famously that he would kill anyone who sold drugs to children or near schools. Later while incarcerated Jason Todd killed 82 Blackgate inmates (and harmed over a hundred) by poisoning the prison food. This mass murder was intrinsically indiscriminate and due to the US prison system it is reasonable to assume people charged with drug offences were included in the death count.

Jason does have deep childhood trauma associated with addiction and drug use and wants to help prevent suffering. That being said, his approach treats drugs as a criminal problem to be eradicated or controlled, not just a symptom of deeper social issues. He kills people who sell drugs to kids, rather than helping building a support system so kids aren't pushed into abusing substances to cope and people don't have to deal to survive.

What does this mean?

Scott Lobdell got details of Roy's addiction wrong and distorted him into a reckless idiot who has been ostracised from the community. But if it was done right their interaction and opposing perspectives/experiences could be really interesting. Both hate drugs and the drug trade, but the way they conceptualise this hatred differs significantly.

Roy focuses on helping the individual and addressing deeper social problems, seeing drugs as a devastating but ultimately symptomatic. Jason sees drug use as first and foremost a criminal issue, with true benefits being achieved through controlling the criminal underworld.

Roy's priority is therefore supporting people struggling with addiction and showing compassion for their situation. Jason doesn't really focus on ways to help the individuals suffering from addiction, as much as mitigating the overall harm and fitting the drug trade into parameters he views as acceptable.

I think it would add needed complexity to their relationship (and to Jason's redemption if we're going that route) as well as dealing with the more 'war-on-drug' elements of UTRH. Also it would help Roy stand on his own as a strong, articulate leader with a dark past rather than being (at least for a while) reduced to essentially Jason's sidekick.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I just imagine the ANGER that reader has when dipper & mabel becomes distraction

The twins are arguing with each other and reader just calmly said "what if just volunteer myself with the memory gun i mean i also know the equation" then they said something hurtful calmly that make the twins realize how their action put a nail into the coffin of their niece & nephew

When they got back and want to make a deal with bill but he didn't believe them but then reader said "you can't possibly got in his head with that metal plate of his" (they say something like that) bill wasn't angry but more like entertaint and make a deal with them, reader just wants no harm comes to the kids and town people's after they give him the equation and when asked abt the stan twins they just don't care

You didn’t care what happened to yourself, you really didn’t but what you weren’t about to do was let Mabel answer dipper become distractions.

You refused. So while Stan and Ford were bickering, again, you whistled sharply, which got the two older men to stop their argument to look over at you.

‘How about instead of using your own flesh and blood and possibly getting them killed due to your negligence and let me to make the deal with bill instead, you’re not the only one who knows the equation Ford so you can drop the hero complex.’ You snapped and it silenced the entire Pines Family when they realised you were right.

‘Are you sure about-‘

‘I am very certain Stanford.’ You cut Ford off and his face was full of hurt but begrudging acceptance, he knew that once your mind was made up nothing else mattered.

‘Hey let’s at least-‘

‘I don’t care about what the next words to leave your mouth are Stanley!’ You hissed, making him take a step back. ‘What I’m not about to do is put those two kids in danger like you two, it’s almost like you forget they are kids at the end of the day with parents waiting for them back home.’ You reminded the pair as they looked at Dipper and Mabel who were gripping onto you tightly, pleading with you to not make the deal with Bill.

Ford sighed. ‘Fine, if this is what you want to do.’ He trails off.

‘It is.’ You said with a newfound strength. ‘Since It seems like I’m the only one who gives a fuck about Gravity Falls and the people in it.’ You added but left Ford and Stan with the twins before they had the urge to further push you on that statement.

When you finally confront Bill, who was obviously waiting for Stanford, you could see him visibly deflate and couldn’t help but scoff. ‘Oh come on Bill I’m not that bad.’

Bill chuckles. ‘Sure you might not be but no offence, I was expecting fordsy, not his assistant- or should I say former assistant.’ Your jaw clenched, bill sure knew how to put salt in the wound but still you pressed on, for dipper and Mabel and the weird but lovable townsfolk of Gravity Falls; your true family.

‘Sorry to disappoint but with that metal plate in his head, there’s no chance you would’ve made it even close to the equation.’ You fake winced as you saw the annoyance flicker in Bill’s one eye. ‘Sorry but I’m the closest to the next best thing for you.’ You add with a shrug, fully accepting what was going to happen to you as you didn’t have any one of worth to mourn you nor your memories.

‘Ugh if I have to since option one was unavailable,’ Bill drawled as he held out his hand, not bothering to look at you, ‘is there any boring thing you want to say now in your final act of heroism fleshbag?’ He asks.

‘For you to leave dipper, Mabel and the citizens of Gravity Falls alone, they’ve been through enough as it is.’ You tell him, watching as the blue flames flicker and lick at his hand. Bill blinked at you, having where this stereotypical speech one too many times in his long, long, long life, ‘anything else, or rather anyone else?’

You knew who he was suggesting but all you said in regards to Stan and Ford was; ‘kill them, torture them, make them into your personally puppets whatever, I honestly don’t care.’

Bill’s eye widened. ‘Oh now this is interesting! You’re becoming interesting to me now fleshbag! I haven’t heard such venom towards another fellow fleshbag in so long! Deal!’ He exclaims as he grabs your hand, cementing the finality of your deal, how naive the dream demon was to not see the trap he had walked into by doing so.

[digitalconcept-fl]

Thursday, October 26th, 2023

A woman has been found guilty of handing over a three-year-old British girl for female genital mutilation (FGM) during a trip to Kenya, in the first conviction of its kind.

After a trial at the Old Bailey, Amina Noor, 39, was convicted of assisting a Kenyan woman to carry out the procedure in 2006. The conviction, which carries a maximum sentence of 14 years, is the first for assisting in such harm under the Female Genital Mutilation Act 2003.

The only other successful prosecution under the act was in 2019 when a Ugandan woman from Walthamstow, east London, was jailed for 11 years for cutting a three-year-old girl.

Campaigners said the verdict showed that the introduction in 2015 of mandatory reporting of suspected FGM was working.

The senior crown prosecutor Patricia Strobino hailed Noor’s conviction, saying: “This kind of case will hopefully encourage potential victims and survivors of FGM to come forward, safe in the knowledge that they are supported, believed and also are able to speak their truth about what’s actually happened to them.

“It will also send a clear message to those prospective defendants or people that want to maintain this practice that it doesn’t matter whether they assist or practise or maintain this practice within the UK or overseas, they are likely to be prosecuted.”

Strobino added: “Part of the challenge of this type of offence is the fact that these types of offences occur in secrecy. Within specific communities within the UK, although these offences and practices are prevalent, it is often very difficult to get individuals to come forward to explain the circumstances of what’s happened to them because there was a fear that they may be excluded or pushed away or shunned, isolated from their community.”

Previously, the prosecutor Deanna Heer KC said Noor travelled to Kenya with the girl in 2006 and while there took her to a private house where the child was subjected to FGM.

The crime only came to light years later when the girl was 16 and confided in her English teacher at school.

When spoken to, the defendant said she thought the procedure was just an injection and that afterwards the girl was “happy and able to run around and play”. But when examined in 2019, it emerged that the girl’s clitoris had been removed.

Noor appeared “shocked and upset” and said that was not what she had thought was going to happen, Heer said. According to an initial account, Noor described going with another woman to a “clinic” where the girl was called into a room for a procedure.

The defendant said she was invited in but refused because she was “scared and worried”. Afterwards, the girl appeared quiet and cried the whole night and complained of pain, according to the account.

In a later police interview under caution, Noor denied that anyone had made threats against her before FGM was done to the girl.

Heer said: “She was asked whether, when she arrived at the clinic or even before then, she felt she did not want it to happen. She said: ‘Yeah I thought about it but then, you know, got it done.’”

Jurors were told the defendant was born in Somalia and moved to Kenya at the age of eight during the civil war in Somalia. She was 16 when she came to the UK and was later granted British citizenship.

The defendant described what had been done to the girl as “Sunnah”, meaning “tradition” or “way” in Arabic, and said it was a practice that had gone on for cultural reasons for many years.

Giving evidence in her trial, Noor, from Harrow, in north-west London, said she was threatened with being “cursed” and “disowned” within her community if she did not take part. She told jurors that the threat gave her “pain”, adding: “That was a pressure I had no power to do anything about.”

The alleged victim, who is now 21, cannot be identified for legal reasons.

Nimco Ali, an FGM survivor who founded the Five Foundation, a global partnership to end the cutting of girls, welcomed the verdict.

She said: “It is incredible that the mandatory reporting by teachers and healthcare professionals – that we have fought hard for – is starting to pay off. A girl was obviously failed. She was let down by the system but she got some form of justice today thanks to the policies that we now have in place.”

She added: “We have to address FGM in the UK and everywhere by working together to address the root causes of the issue.”

Research in 2014 estimated that 137,000 women and girls are affected by FGM in England and Wales. Ali said this estimate needed updating urgently.

[capricornlevi]

(wc 759)

"you're gonna make me look good?"

jean's question is delivered with that annoying crooked smile, his jersey hugging tight across his chest as he stands with his hands clasped behind his back. he arches an eyebrow expectantly as you fiddle with the camera, trying to fix the settings that seem to have adjusted themselves without your knowledge.

as captain of the soccer team, he's the last player whose picture you need to capture for the college yearbook, and also as the captain, he brings with him an exceptionally smug but annoyingly charming aura that threatens to penetrate your stony resolve.

no, you force yourself to keep a straight face, it's bad enough that you got roped into this gig for free as a favour to your professor, you don't need to start stretching out these interactions any longer.

at that, you set the camera back on the tripod and lean closer, making sure the framing is right.

"okay, smile?" you say, halfway between an instruction and a question.

"i am smiling," he retorts instantly.

"smile ... i don't know, properly."

he winces with mock offence, screwing up whatever hope you had of getting the picture in one shot and finishing up for the day.

"properly?" he queries incredulously.

you sigh, closing your eyes so you don't roll them.

"professionally, then. formally. whatever what you want to do it."

"not open to me doing a silly one?"

"i'll give you one guess on that."

in the viewfinder you see jean's face twist back into that now-familiar smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, the light brown of his hair contrasting again the royal blue of the drape behind him.

(the hall of the gym isn't the best place to set up an impromptu photo studio, but you found an old team flag bundled up in a supply cupboard that made for a decent background)

"okay, okay, i'll be professional. showing my leadership qualities, and so on."

"great," you say flatly, focusing the camera.

"really demonstrating my abilities to represent the school."

"sounds good."

"recording this moment for future generations to come, a piece of living history--"

"do you ever stop talking?"

your interruption was intended to throw him off his tangent, hopefully to buy enough time for you to actually get the picture, but all it does is make him throw his head back with a laugh.

"i can if you want me to."

"if you wouldn't mind," you mumble, feeling a slight pang of guilt at how hard you came in when he's clearly just trying to lighten the mood.

still, you've been here since seven this morning -- soccer practice is early early, you've discovered -- and all you want in the world is to make your way home to collapse back into bed.

"ok, i'll shut up for a minute. if you can answer something for me first."

you take a steadying breath, temper starting to simmer. "what is it?"

"can you actually tell me if i look good?"

against all odds, he shocks you out of your sullen silence.

you pull away from focusing at the camera display to stare wordlessly at jean, the seriousness of the question still pinging around in your head.

he's flirting, obviously, but the question was delivered with sincerity.

"meaning?" you ask. no harm in clarifying, plus you're not entirely sure if he's looking for an ego boost or just asking whether his jersey is too wrinkled or his hair out of place.

"do i look good?"

you swallow thickly, avoiding the temptation to give him a once over. "you look fine."

"fine won't make the history books," he objects; again, with a hint of earnestness that you could find amusing in another setting.

"whatever. you look good, then."

"hair okay?"

"it's a mullet, so --"

he clutches his chest as if wounded, fully grinning now. "no cheap shots at the mullet while I'm in such a vulnerable position, im begging you."

again, your curiosity forces you to engage.

"vulnerable how?"

still smiling, eyes fixed on you, he answers.

"well, talking to a pretty girl, for one thing. secondly, pretty sure she's sworn off soccer players for good after this morning, so ... uphill battle, and all that. plus ive had a crush on her since she was selected as photographer for the championship final last year, so even more's at stake, y'know."

you pause. no words leave you, nothing even resembling a response. you're sure your mouth has actually dropped open.

brow arched again, jean tilts his head forward expectantly.

"aren't you gonna take the picture?"

[ukrfeminism]

Experts and lawyers involved in sexual offence cases in Britain have warned that suspected rapists are evading justice by claiming to have a rare sleepwalking disorder that causes them to engage in sexual activity while asleep.

They said there had “definitely” been cases where guilty people had been found not guilty, and warned of the potential for further miscarriages of justice – and harm to the public – without more robust challenges to “sexsomnia” claims put forward by defendants.

The warnings come after an investigation by the Observer uncovered a rise in the use of “sexsomnia” as part of defence cases in criminal trials. It found 80 cases over the past 30 years where defendants accused of rape, sexual assault or child sexual abuse claimed to have been sleepwalking or suffering from sexsomnia at the time.

But while there were only occasional cases in the 1990s and early 2000s, the analysis reveals at least 51 in the past decade and eight in the past year alone. The figures are likely to represent only part of the true total, with many not publicly reported. In about 60% of cases where sexsomnia was part of the defence, a not-guilty verdict was returned, the Observer’s analysis suggests. Overall, the average jury conviction rate for rape was 58% in England and Wales.

Charges against suspects have also been dropped by the Crown Prosecution Service before they even reached court after defence lawyers raised sexsomnia behind the scenes. One law firm advertised how it “kept pressure” on the CPS after it decided to continue with the prosecution of a wealthy client charged with sexual assault. The charges were dropped before the case went to trial.

Dr Neil Stanley, an independent sleep expert who has provided expert evidence in trials where sexsomnia was raised as an issue, said that while some claims of the condition were undoubtedly genuine, others were not.

“It is being used cynically,” he said. “There are cases that are in the public domain where it is clear that they’re just chancing their arm. Because, of course, if it is sexsomnia, you’re found not guilty. Judges haven’t a clue. Juries haven’t a clue. So it’s worth a try.”

Stanley said attempted use of sexsomnia by defendants had “massively skyrocketed” in recent years and that such claims were very difficult to definitively disprove – meaning often “just saying, ‘I don’t remember. It could be sexsomnia,’ is enough”.

He said the current system was failing victims – and true sufferers of the condition – and called for reforms including more robust challenging of sexsomnia claims and a less adversarial approach to questioning expert witnesses, so they could provide more nuanced responses in the courtroom.

“The law seems not willing to admit that there’s a strong likelihood of miscarriages of justice. And given the severity of the offence, we should be very certain of having checks and balances in place so we take as many precautions as possible to stop miscarriages of justice,” he said. “In terms of sexsomnia, that is not happening.”

He added: “I know in my heart of hearts that there are cases where guilty men have got away with it. And that cannot be a legitimate consequence of the system. The system has to change.”

Sexsomnia is recognised in the DSM-5 diagnostic manual of psychiatric conditions and is a type of para­somnia, a disorder involving abnormal sleep behaviour. Sufferers engage in sex acts while in non-REM sleep. They might have their eyes open but will have no awareness or memory of their behaviour.

If a jury decides that an accused person was in such a state – known as “automatism” – when they committed an alleged offence, they will be found not guilty. But while lab tests and partner histories can be used to try to establish whether a sexsomnia claim is genuine, sleep experts and lawyers say the system is open to abuse because uncertainty in the science means it is impossible to say for sure whether someone was or was not suffering from sexsomnia.

Many of those successfully pleading sexsomnia in court had no known history of sleepwalking and no formal diagnosis. Other cases involved defendants performing a complicated series of actions in unfamiliar settings, which experts said were less typical of genuine sexsomnia.

In about a third of the cases, the defendant was under the influence of alcohol or drugs, and some were very intoxicated, but sexsomnia was cited as the primary factor behind their behaviour.

Sometimes, just a mention of the condition in court appears to sow a seed of doubt that can contribute to a not-guilty verdict. In one rape case, two expert witnesses said evidence for the defendant having sexsomnia was “weak” but that they could not categorically rule it out. The jury subsequently acquitted the man.

In at least one case, a man who avoided a rape prosecution after claiming to have sexsomnia went on to attack again. Joseph Short evaded charges in 2011 after saying he had no memory of an alleged rape. He was later jailed for 15 years for another violent attack. And a man convicted of strangling and beating his partner was acquitted of raping her and another woman after claiming to have been suffering from the condition.

Allison Summers KC, a barrister and head of Drystone Chambers, who has represented three clients who used sexsomnia as a defence, all of whom were acquitted, said the increase in defences using the condition could be in part because it had historically been “underdiagnosed generally” and that there were some “very genuine” cases.

But she said the presence of alcohol complicated things – “are they using the sleep defence to cover up what has happened?” – and that there was an issue of defendants “trying it on”.

“I think there are probably [defence lawyers] running these cases on fairly spurious evidence,” she added. “Juries are strange creatures and I suspect sometimes they give the benefit of the doubt when they shouldn’t.”

Summers said it was for defence counsels to investigate such claims and for prosecutors to robustly challenge them, but that this did not always happen: barristers instructed “rubbish” experts or failed to get relevant histories, or prosecutors did not properly interrogate claims in court. “It comes back to laziness and a lack of understanding,” she said.

Sexsomnia has also been used by defence teams in an attempt to discredit victims. Jade McCrossen-Nethercott, 31, from Croydon, is taking legal action against the CPS after it dropped her rape case days before it was due to go to trial after expert witnesses said she had sexsomnia.

McCrossen-Nethercott said the conclusion was made by an expert instructed by the defence who had never met her, and was based on her answers to a 15-question survey. “It was plucked out of thin air,” she said.

The CPS has since “apologised unreservedly” for its decision to drop the case and said “the expert evidence and defendant’s account should have been challenged and put before a jury to decide”.

McCrossen-Nethercott is now calling for “robust, rigorous and consistent” assessment of sexsomnia claims “across the board”, including a “thorough assessment, bed partner histories, extensive polysomnographies”.

“It has to be taken seriously to protect victims from being told they have it without significant evidence; to prevent perpetrators claiming they do when they don’t, but also for genuine sufferers, to prevent them being wrongly convicted,” she said.

Dame Vera Baird KC, the former victims’ commissioner for England and Wales, called for safeguards to be put in place to protect victims and the public. She said sexsomnia was being seen as an “escape route” by some defendants and that in cases where it arose, prosecutors needed to be consistent in applying for sexual risk orders, which can be made regardless of whether someone is convicted if they are deemed to pose a danger.

Such an order could require a person to warn future partners, or others sleeping under the same roof, about their condition, or face prison.

Baird, a barrister who was previously solicitor general and a Labour MP, said increasing the use of such orders might also deter people from using sexsomnia as a “get-out-of-jail card”. “A person who says, ‘Oh dear, I raped somebody without knowing it,’ is a danger to the public and cannot be left simply acquitted,” she said.

A CPS spokesperson said prosecutors always “robustly challenge legal defences when contrasting evidence is available” and that sexsomnia was no exception. It said any decision to drop a case in response to a claim of sexsomnia “must now be approved at the most senior level” and that victims always had the right to seek a review. However, it said it did not record data on how many cases had been dropped due to sexsomnia claims by the defendant.

The Ministry of Justice said the government had taken “decisive action” to ensure rape victims got justice and that “the validity and credibility of a defence” was for the courts to decide.

Claire (not her real name), a complainant in a recent case where the defendant was acquitted on multiple counts of sexual assault after claiming to have sexsomnia, said the verdict had a “devastating” effect. She said the man did not deny the acts took place but said he must have done them while asleep, and that he had never sleepwalked before, had no formal diagnosis, and had had “no tests done”.

The woman, a mother from Lancashire, said the process had left her “baffled”: “It’s like they’ve said, ‘Well yeah, he might’ve sexually abused you numerous times but he did it in his sleep, so it’s OK. So you’re just going to have to get on with your life and deal with it and he’s got away with it.’ It’s like they just took his word for it. There is nothing to stop him from doing it again and just saying, ‘I was asleep’.”