#anti extradition

[13thpythagoras]

i was buying some aloe water today and the shop keeper is like yemen?

I'm like yeah mon

no jk i was like 'yeah I should visit Yemen! Birthplace of coffee'

he's like 'houthi rebels bad'

i'm like 'eh usa bad too, yin and yang i guess' internally wondering how the shopkeeper knew to bring this up with his geography / politics savant customer of the day haha

he's all 'america is great'

i'm like 'eh Gaza sure would beg to differ'

[nando161mando]

Reminder that Donald Trump was sentenced to death in absentia by a court in Yemen's Saada region for crimes against humanity...

Extradition when????

[the50-person]

“The records of the HKSAR Government show that the person has not entered or been refused entry by Hong Kong,” a spokesperson said, demanding an apology from the group. Amnesty told AFP in response that the group “will remain concerned for (Abuduwaili’s) safety” and that his friend is still unable to contact him.

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The text message attributed to Abuduwaili — which AFP has not been able to independently verify — was written in simplified Chinese and told his waiting friend to leave without him. “I’m being checked, Chinese police are asking me questions, and it may take time for me to get out,” the message read.

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According to Amnesty, Abuduwaili was on a Cathay Pacific flight from Seoul to Hong Kong that was scheduled to land at 11 pm (1500 GMT) on May 10, according to Amnesty. Airline Cathay Pacific did not respond to questions on whether he was on board.

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Since Beijing imposed its national security law on Hong Kong in 2020, Chinese law enforcement agents have been given more leeway in operating within the city — once considered off-limits due to the city’s semi-autonomous status.

[poliphoon]

Playing pernicious politics in the neighbourhood

Playing politics in the neighbourhood is not new to India. But things are different this time around. Bangladesh is proving to be equally adept at playing counter-politics. It has been over a month now since Sheikh Hasina, Bangladesh’s former prime minister, fled the country on August 5th. She took refuge in India when unabating student protests that broke out in early July spiralled out of…

[genderqueerdykes]

i would strongly suggest anyone considering DIY to instead investigate states with shield laws! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transgender_rights_in_the_United_States#Displacement_and_sanctuary_states

"A number of states have passed laws protecting trans people and their families, as well as their healthcare providers, fleeing anti-trans states, from extradition." essentially, these are jurisdictions that have committed to NOT respecting federal orders that violate transgender human rights. it is very unlikely they will comply with orders to cease issuing HRT OR testing. even if you DIY in your home state, you may be able to access a planned parenthood (many do hormone tests, and many prescribe hrt!) in a sanctuary state so you can have things like your liver enzymes tested, along with basic physical changes like blood pressure.

i personally live in vermont and while it isn't all whiskers on kittens, there IS a LONG tradition of vermont dissent against federal injunctions. idk if i'd suggest moving here (the jobs are bad, the housing is worse, our winters and flooding are intense, and most of the state is an intense food desert) but specifically university of vermont's hospital has a really solid presence and any specialty you could want, including in-hospital plastic surgeons that do various genderful surgeries, as well as gynecology and hormone management. vermont medicaid also is REALLY good. if you are unemployed, for any amount of time, you qualify as long as you live any amount of time in the state. there are no copays. prescriptions are $1 each, no matter what. UVM has eaten almost every smaller practice in the area, and they take medicaid. the local planned parenthood also has a special fund for helping pay for gender affirming care for those who don't have insurance and can't afford it. i know moving is not ideal ever but it's what i did about a decade ago and it's not bad for sure !

Pride Center of Vermont also exists if anyone wants a local org to chat about this sort of thing with, on weekdays during week hours they have a warmline open and are generally very kind and helpful.

thank you so much for this information!! i really appreciate it, i was not aware of this! i feel like this can help a lot of people already living in the United States, or people looking to move here!

[loriache]

World Map Notes: the Elven Northern & Southern Central Continents

These nations are where all the elves in the story except Marcille and Thistle are from. This post collects all the information I could find about these two nations, and included a bit of analysis based on that information.

TL;DR (includes both fact and my speculation):

The Northern Central Continent is a feudal monarchy with a strong class system, as well as strict borders, & could probably be considered an ethnostate. It's deeply hierarchical, and the queen is a traditionalist - so it's probably very structurally biased against non-elves and half-elves.

Elves in the NCC practice cannibalism in some rural areas!

The Southern Central Continent is more diverse, with a large tallman population on its South Coast.

To elves, "Court Magicians" exclusively refer to those serving the elven queen - a prestigious role that seems likely to be only open to nobles.

The SCC may not be a monarchy, though it's not clear what kind of leadership or societal structure it does have.

The NCC will habitually take anyone involved in ancient magic as a criminal to prosecute on their terms, regardless of jurisdiction, but this depends on their political influence and ability to pressure local leaders to agree to extradite the criminal.

Elves VS Dwarves and Gnomes may have been at war around the time of the Golden Kingdom being sealed. This conflict also may be one of the factors pushing the kingdom to be sealed in the first place.

The "Central Region" might be the origin of the "Common Tongue" that our characters speak.

Northern Central Continent

The Adventurer's Bible | p. 132

For this place to have a high quality of life, and also a declining population - especially when it's so close to the Western Continent, which is stated to have poor quality of life - there must be strictly maintained borders and a strong anti-immigration policy. Based on the attitude of the elves, I wouldn't be surprised if it was very difficult to move there unless you are also an elf.

It could probably be considered an ethnostate - and while in these kinds of fantasy worlds, that's pretty common. Take Rivendell, or Moria, in LOTR - they take for granted that these kinds of different fantasy races will live in separate communities.

But that isn't actually realistic, and I think Kui has considered it as more of a politically established status quo rather than an obvious natural result of having magically distinct "races". Which, even in Dunmeshi, I think is a difficult and not-terribly-accurate way to represent politics - racism does not emerge from actual, physical differences between races, after all.

But Dunmeshi's presentation of this idea is interesting, because of the recognition that if there is an "elven nation" which prioritises the interests and rights of elves over other races, that is because there's a deliberate, concerted effort to keep it that way.

But there's a small section of the NCC with a high tallman population - I wonder what kind of community they have, and how they fit into the strict elven hierarchy?

The Adventurer's Bible | pp. 134 & 136

Kabru and Rin, and other kids like them, who are adopted or taken as adopted children(rarely - the way Milsiril treats Kabru is not perfect, but she's deliberately attempting to be better than other elves.... meaning other elves are usually worse)/pets/objects by elven nobles, as well as accomplished or notable individuals who earn the elves' favour/are "invited" to stay (such as they try with Laios at the end of the story) would be an exception.

Other long-lived races could probably (...?) visit, but given the historical conflict between elves, dwarves, and gnomes, I think they'd also be pretty hostile to many of them coming to live on the NCC, even if they see them as more like equals.

Social Structure & Nobility

The Northern Central Continent is an absolute monarchy under a 372 year old queen, Heimeya (IDK what the official romanisation of her name will be).

...With extended "nobility", which are the group that the canaries' guards draw from. We don't get much clarification of what sort of structure their nobility has, what titles there are, and where our characters who are nobles fall into it.

Pattadol (House of Vari), Mithrun (House of Kerensil), and Milsiril (House of Tol) are nobles.

Mithrun's noble house, Kerensil, is apparently a well-known family of investors! I wonder what sorts of businesses they invest in & what the elven economy is like?

Milsiril's house, on the other hand, is a well-known military family. I wonder if Kabru could claim the surname "of the House of Tol". He did go to family gatherings after all. But if he was comfortable doing so and it would be accepted, I would assume he'd have done so when introducing himself to the canaries.

Flamela is a distant relative of the queen, who has additional status due to exhibiting the genetic trait associated with their queens, extremely dark skin.

The queen is a "staunch traditionalist" who wouldn't even acknowledge a half-elf like Marcille. Nice! I really feel bad for Kabru and Rin growing up as tallmen in this sort of culture.

Court Magicians

While generally this is a term for any magic user who serves in a royal court, in the Northern Central Continent it seems to carry a lot of esteem; even just as the daughter of one, Pattadol assumes Marcille has the right to boss her around and to handle highly secret, highly illegal ancient magic secrets.

That makes sense, as in the society of the Northern Central Continent, you'd be directly serving the elven queen. But also, she has enough Court Magicians that Pattadol would not expect to know Marcille's mother's name, but few enough that it would be a big deal and Cithis would know about it if one had a half-elf child.

I don't think it's remotely unlikely based on that to assume that this role is only available to nobles.

A "Court Magician" who doesn't serve the NCC Queen isn't a "real" Court Magician in the eyes of NCC elves. Those short-lived monarchs would be happy just to have an elf around regardless of whether they were actually any good at magic.... according to Cithis.

Magic seems very important to the society of the NCC elves. The queen communicates with her subordinates via familar, and the birds we see surrounding her seem like they are some kind of magic - perhaps not familiars since we see her familiar, but some other kind of scrying?

Also, based on the fact Pattadol assumes a Court Magician would be serving the Queen of the NCC, we can theorise that perhaps whatever structure the SCC has, it isn't a monarchy....? Heimeya is "the queen of the elves", after all - that doesn't sound like there's another elven monarch competing for the title just next door.

Ordinary People

Apparently the NCC is a safe place and life is easy -- but given the strict class system, I kind of expect that varies a lot depending on the family you're born into.

The only elves we meet who are not nobles are the convicted criminal canaries, so it's hard to get a sense of what life is like for them from that. Cithis was apparently a wealthy fortune teller with "an intense jealousy for those born noble or wealthy." So I assume she was not born into comfort.

Apparently "There are also primitive villages deep in the woods and underground, and in some regions cannibalism is still practiced." Which is awesome. Based on her videogame elves art I think Kui's probably making a little nod to Divinity: Original Sin elves, who can absorb memories through eating the flesh of others. Elves in dungeon meshi don't have this trait, but I wonder if there is a magical ritual or some kind of cultural practice with a similar intention.

Cuisine

Marcille's mother didn't think much of the elven cuisine.

Liricmumwarel is fancy candy given out by the elven queen the shape of which conveys blessings.

Elf Cake is a crumbly dry cake that Kabru and Thistle don't think much of. I've heard someone discuss what it's likely to be made of, but I am afraid I don't recall.

Southern Central Continent

The Adventurer's Bible | p. 132

It seems like the Southern Central Continent gets a lot more immigration and has a more diverse population, especially along the south coast (near the Western Continent). That south coast has a high tallman population.

Fleki and Lycion are from the Southern Central Continent. Fleki got into ancient magic for the money, so you can assume there's probably class disparity there too; things are noted by Kui to be more "disorganised" than the NCC. Not a bad thing at all - the NCC is definitely too "organised" in my books. But that does potentially also mean there's less, e.g., bureaucracy, central organisation, less of a social safety net. But then again, in the NCC I doubt that whatever "safety net" there is, is available to everyone.

We can't extrapolate much from Fleki & Lycion's personalities, because they clearly aren't in the most stable societal position, and I get the sense that they're the countercultural type - they probably don't represent the type of person typical to the SCC. Also, our NCC characters are all either nobles or used to navigating high society (Cithis, Kabru to an extent) so they aren't exactly a typical "ordinary NCC person" as a basis for comparison either. However, there's less of a "strict set of social rules" type of feel to the SCC characters, fitting with my suggestion that the SCC may not be a society with a strong feudal element.

Geopolitics & Conflict

The fact that, despite their being from the SCC, Fleki and Lycion are in the Canaries, who work directly under the NCC's Queen, implies that the the NCC feel entitled to process and prosecute people who commit ancient magic-related crimes regardless of any notion of "jurisdiction". This is backed up by the way that they were going to take Marcille - but that is something that the governor of the Island had to give permission for, which Laios is able to withdraw. So I assume that the NCC elves apply pressure on various world leaders to extradite criminals involved in ancient magic.

The SCC would cooperate with this, since they're allies, even if they don't have a great relationship (according to the World Guide).

The NCC are also clearly able to take half-foots without trouble, as we see by Chilchuck saying he's known half-foots who got involved with "black magic" (ancient magic) and were disappeared by the elves. But I doubt gnomes or dwarves are giving people up easily - though that probably doesn't go for dwarves like Senshi and Namari, without strong community ties.

Long before the current times, elves fought dwarves & gnomes. There might have been more than one of these conflicts...? While long ago, this war isn't "ancient" (like the ancients who sealed the demon into dungeons, before their world was mostly destroyed by it).

Thistle, Delgal, and the Golden Kingdom were (I believe) caught up in one of these conflicts, which used Melini as a staging ground - thus why Thistle was pushed to seal the entire kingdom in the dungeon.

To do this, Thistle unseals a dungeon created by the "ancient people". These could be the "ancients" who created the dungeons, before the apocalypse. Or they could be another, still extinct, society.

Regardless, at least one of these conflicts seems to have taken place after the golden kingdom was sealed - so, within the last 1000 years.

Though, this could refer to a different, more localised conflict between the Golden Kingdom and their dwarven neighbours.

The order of events is that the Golden Kingdom was sealed (1000 years ago or so) > Dwarves took over > Elves stole the land from the Dwarves ("long ago" by the Island Lord, a tallman's, standards) > Elves gave the land to a local lord, who was either an ancestor of the Island Lord, or the Island Lord himself. The Island Lord is himself a descendant of the lord who poisoned Delgal's father, as is noted in the World Guide. However, it isn't impossible for there to be large gaps of time between these events, which could put the elf / dwarf wars at a more recent date.

The fact we know that the elves stole the land from the dwarves, and then granted it to a political actor who was relevant during the events of the Golden Kingdom flashbacks we see suggests to me that the events were roughly contemporaneous. If they were, that puts at least one of these conflicts at roughly 1000 years ago.

So, the elf/dwarf & gnome conflict is "long ago" by short-lived standards, but would be considered "modern" by the long-lived races, if you ask me. At least, the equivalent of the World Wars for us - recent history, even if we weren't alive.

I'm guessing the "Elf King" from the below panel in fact was a word that's more gender-neutral in Japanese, since the "Western Elves" definitely have a queen.

Language

When Kabru says the "Central region" I expect he means the region where the NCC and SCC is.

The fact that he observes that the lack of any accent means he's from the Central Region is really interesting. It could mean two things;

either they switched to speaking in the language spoken on those continents, which Kabru would naturally know, having grown up there. It's 100 percent possible, but I think this would be noted in the story.

or, the language that gets called "the common tongue", the one that all our principle characters speak for most of the story, originated from the elves in the Central Continent. Or at least it's the same one that the elves use, and their political influence is great enough that their accent gets to be considered not an accent at all. The fact they were "granting" land in this area to tall-man lords suggests a large enough historical influence in the area that this is quite plausible to me.

Mithrun absolutely does have an accent - nobody speaks without an accent. His accent is just politically and socioculturally normalised to the point of being considered the "default/proper" way to speak - like received pronounciation in English.

The common tongue isn't ubiquitous everywhere - not just Kuro, but Kiki and Kaka are also noted to be studying the common tongue. The Tansus were born on the Eastern Continent, so probably gnome communities there speak their own language - Kiki and Kaka grew up primarily surrounded by gnomes after all.

It's also quite likely that Kabru, specifically, because of where he grew up, would consider Mithrun's way of talking to be the default "not an accent" accent. His adoptive mother surely has the same upper-class NCC accent. I expect that other characters might experience it as more "marked".

This isn't a world where everyone speaks the same language everywhere; the common tongue is called that, but there are many different languages. Kabru and Chilchuck are two characters who are adept with many of them - Kabru speaks the language of the kobold, and probably lots more. Chilchuck works as an interpreter as part of his union stuff - I can tell you from experience that that's a hugely valuable skillset in that context, as many of the people who most need union representation are people who don't speak the dominant language, or at least not fluently.

If you got all the way to the end of this post.... thank you for reading, I love you. Check out my other World Map Notes under that tag on my blog; I've made a few so far and there will almost certainly be more. Next I'm thinking the dwarven nations...? But I could be persuaded if someone had a preference.

Also, anyone got any speculation on what, exactly, is the previous time that Heimeya ate a person/monster/chimera that this panel implies:

We really don't have anything to go on whatsoever, but I think it's a fun tidbit.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Two: Cruel New World

Heiress of Gotham

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: It's your first-day living life in Wayne Manor. A new house, a new school, and of course there's the new siblings thing too.

Warnings: Negativity, Damian's Jealous, Talks of Death, Numbness, Depression, Disassociation, Misandry, Crying, Suicidal Thoughts (if u squint), Existentialism, Cursing, Yelling, Outbursts, Anti-Police Rhetoric, Injury, Blood, Catcalling

Mentions of: Suicide, Body Fluids (mucus),

Words: 6.7k

A/N: POV kind of switches in some points, but I think it's fine. You know when it's the reader and when it's more of a third-person pov.

"Please take a seat, Miss Wayne," Alfred suggests as he pulls out a chair directly center of the long black cherry wood table. Your father sits at the opposite end of the room at the head of the table to your right, while a smaller black-haired child sits with his back to the kitchen doors on the left. There's one other person who sits directly across the table from where Alfred stands behind the chair meant for you.

"Are you serious? We really have to do this today of all days?" The child whines.

"I thought I told you no technology at the table this morning, Tim," Your father tells the person you're meant to sit across from. Ipad propped up on the table beside his plate, the teenage boy's grayish-blue eyes remain on the screen for a few moments as he shovels forkfuls of eggs into his mouth. In a tacit conversation, they make eye contact for a moment before he flips the cover back over the device and shoves it into the backpack by his feet. "Thank you.”

"You know, Bruce, I really need to get this essay done by this afternoon.” Tim—as you now know—explains.

"Oh? And what's it on?" Always wanting to get more involved in the kids' lives, Bruce attempts some sort of civil conversation other than indulging the begrudging eye-roll Damian throws him from across the table.

"It's on-" Tim begins to explain.

"You're really making us eat breakfast all together at-" Damian interjects.

"-the table like the nice, loving family we are? Pssh, you're lucky everyone's actually here this morning!" Dick cuts Damian off in an attempt to dissuade the boy's frustrations and some of his, perhaps just, points. Walking over to his chair he pulls it out enough to plop down.

"Everyone's coming?! Just for her?!" Damian, as you now know, complains, pointing his cereal’s spoon in your direction.

"I'm afraid Stephanie has a doctor’s appointment, and Jason is... well," Bruce doesn't finish his explanation as he glances around the table.

"Jason," Dick defends, even if he's still somewhat suspicious of the man's current motives. "You'll meet them later, I'm sure," he tosses toward you as he sits at his chair between Tim and Damian still tying his tie.

"Why are you even here? Don't you have work? It's a Tuesday!" Damian chastizes Dick.

"Well if you must know, I have a few suspects I need to bring in for interviews today. They're extraditing a few people since the uptick last week."

"But I thought that-" A look from Dick makes Damian's thoughts linger in the air for a moment as he cuts himself off. Right. Next subject.

"I'm a detective over in Bludhaven," he explains to you, "Luckily I don't live here anymore, so... hopefully that lessens the overwhelming sense of a constant presence of people," he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

With a nod, you finally reach for your fork. It’d been bad enough that it seems more and more people are continuing to engage you when really, it’s been hell enough to process all the transitions currently taking place in your life. While it’s nice in some sense that you’d have breakfast with your Mom on school days like this, having someone cook for you, let alone push in your chair is… well… strange.

“Hello? He’s talking to you,” the sassy child spits at you, garnering your attention. Eyes flitting from him to the person sitting across from you beside Tim, you offer what you can in an attempted smile. It comes across more as a grimace than anything. The Detective politely calls your name, finally tightening his tie as he finishes dressing.

“It’s okay, I get it. This is all a lot. I asked if you ate breakfast with your—“ he spares a quick glance at your Father before it settles back on you, “—Mom, often before everything?”

Though he smiles and has a jovial and pleasant attitude, you can’t bring yourself to really return the favor. While he’s extending an olive branch of friendship, one you’d usually take up, you’re unable to. “Yeah. Nothing like this though,” you mutter, voice surprising even you with the uncharacteristically quiet quality to it.

While the rest of breakfast is filled with questions and trivial conversation, you feel off, with a weary sense of the world. It’s almost like everything is a dream. Once you’ve finished your food, your eyes raise to take in the vase of flowers and candles on either side of it in their ornate silver holders sitting in the middle of the table. “Can I be excused?” Suddenly turned toward your Father, you await his hesitant permission before getting up and heading back to the room they’ve deemed yours just last night.

“She didn’t even look up at me when she answered any of my questions. That’s not good,” Dick points out. There's a hint of concern in his voice as he eyes Bruce.

“She’s probably still grieving her Mom. It only happened yesterday,” Tim proposes with a shrug as he looks up at Dick, who sits to his left.

“Shit,” Dick whispers.

“Do we even know how it happened?” Damian asks from the end of the table, hands clasped in front of himself like a miniature businessman.

“Damian,” Tim whispers with hostility, eyeing him for the inappropriate nature of his comment. Though he’s also curious, as it seems Dick is too, as they all look toward Bruce.

“What? I mean, her Mom dies and suddenly she’s a Wayne? No way,” Damian speaks with confidence.

With a clearing of his throat, Bruce stands. “It’s true. I… hadn’t-” he begins, though hesitates as this wasn’t really a conversation he’d wanted to have with his teenage son of all people. “It wasn’t planned. It was a one-time thing back when I was a little more reckless with keeping up my image.”

“So during your Party Bruce years? Oh my god,” Dick quietly laughs with incredulity. He’d known about it, sure, that ‘phase’ of his Father… yet he hadn’t anticipated him to be that reckless. The look of guilt upon Bruce’s face is all it takes for them to know it’s true.

“I did the math, I looked into her mother’s history, and… it all adds up. I wouldn’t have taken custody of her yesterday if I wasn’t certain.”

“So she was an accident? Ha!” Damian laughs as if he wasn’t technically an accident on his Father’s behalf as well.

“Hey! I will not hear any jokes or have any information imparted on her without my knowledge. It wasn’t her fault, and I won’t see anything but acceptance and welcoming from you three. Will I?” His stern voice sends chills down their spines to some degree. While Bruce doesn’t often take up a fatherly role in terms other than the awful jokes and rare wistful advice, this is a side none of them have ever gotten quite used to.

“Fine. But I’m not changing my entire life around for her. Jon is still coming over after school,” Damian announces with a click of his tongue and a cross of his arms over his chest.

“Good. Now I know this absolutely will not leave the room but I looked into her cause of death last night and it was a car crash.” With that, Bruce leaves the table.

“Sometimes things are just life, I guess,” Dick thinks aloud, still processing the information.

How cool is it that this room has a window seat? You think to yourself, still baffled by the enormous room you’d been gifted. Absolutely awesome! Unfortunately, that’s not something you can fully appreciate as everything has already started to feel numb. They’d explained at the hospital that it’d been a car crash. You know the number of stitches they’d placed, the degree of burns she’d taken as they attempted several grafts to save her life… yet it wasn’t enough. There was nothing they could do. A frown overtakes your expression as a pinch of immense sadness pricks your heart.

“I’ll do it-” you hear a man’s voice from outside the door, “-I’m sure, Alfred.” With three knocks and no response, it creaks open. Unbothered to check who it is, you watch as the rain droplets roll down the leaves on the tree outside your window and slowly drip toward the ground below. He clears his throat and shifts on his feet before speaking. “I really hate to do this to you. I know everyone processes things in their own time, but I’ve got to make arrangements on top of work today and so the best thing I can think to do is get you into a routine.” A look in his direction is all it takes; uniform neatly folded in his extended arms, your Father presents it to you with a sympathetic look on his face.

“What about Melville High?” The question leaves your lips, and all he can think is that you’re too innocent for this world. He doesn't even know you, but already the world has taken too much from you. His daughter. The sentiment still lingers awkwardly between the two of you, both still not used to the idea. After all, you’d both only found out yesterday afternoon. Hell, and that was less than twenty-four hours ago.

“It’s… too far, I’m afraid. Gotham Metro Academy is where Damian goes, and it has a lot of better opportunities from what I know. I’m sure you’ll like it once you get settled in.”

It isn’t the end of the conversation. While you’re barely responding, he imparts as much wisdom and comfort as he’s able, but it goes in one ear and out the other. All too soon you find yourself running your hands over the lapels of your navy uniform’s blazer. A prep school with uniforms was something you’d never imagined in your future—in fact—it’d been far from it! Growing up with enough money to keep you comfortable was fine, but prep school was never in the cards. You and your Mom knew that. Without too much thought to your hair and any accessories or makeup, Alfred is rushing you downstairs and into the awaiting Rolls Royce.

“Had you ever been to Gotham prior, Miss?” Alfred asks from the driver’s seat as you pull away from the infamous Wayne Manor. It looks much more opulent and welcoming in the daylight, yet it still has an intimidating air of aristocracy to you.

“Um… just once, a long time ago.” It hurts your chest to think about; there’d been a weekend you’d gone with your Mom a few years back when she’d wanted to show you all the sights. From the shows to the Financial District, to the historical sights and monuments, it’d been a weekend to remember, truly. If memory serves you right, you even still have a sweater and baseball cap tucked away somewhere from that trip.

Expecting some sort of snarky remark from the child you’ve deduced is Damian, you finally take him in. Sure, everyone’s heard of him. He’s a celebrity for what it’s worth: ‘Bruce Wayne’s Secret Son’ the headlines read. It was national news at the time, his Mom still remaining a mystery. His skin is darker than yours, and while his eyes are a striking green, you can’t deny that he has a resemblance to your Father. Neither can you deny your resemblance, either, really.

“What?” Damian finally bites. His scrutinizing emerald eyes glaring your way. With a quiet, automatic ‘sorry’ and a shift of your eyes out the window and away from the kid on his phone, you can’t help but think about it.

Was Bruce Wayne really as much of a playboy as the media made him out to be? Yours and Damian’s mom would surely proffer the confirmation. Yet, having met the legendary man behind the technological empire, you aren’t sure he really seems the type. As much as your mother tried to keep you from boys and men, you’d met more than your fair share of assholes. Womanizers, scumbags, misogynists; no matter the differences in look or personality, there were always a few similarities they’d have in common, usually in their speech, behavior, or beliefs.

Nevertheless, it’s odd that you’ve been able to place the term ‘Father’ in his grasp so easily. Your mother had feigned a forgetful memory oftentimes when you’d ask during your childhood. Only offering the slightest of details and assuring you that he’d left the both of you as a baby. It was only as you grew up that she eventually let you know that whatever relationship the two of them had, it wasn’t as serious as one would expect of a mother and father. She’d never named him, exactly, having always told you it wasn’t important, or she didn’t remember. He wasn’t worth searching for, seeking out, begging for some answer you surely didn’t want to hear. Why? Why did you leave us? Why don’t you care about us? It was all a waste of time. That much, you knew. Never, even in your dreams would you imagine it’d be the Bruce Wayne.

Before you know it, the trees and streetlights are turning into buildings and stoplights. While you're nervous about going to a new school, it also provides a bit of excitement at the thought of reinventing yourself and making new friends. Surely with the funding from Wayne Enterprises, it'll have more clubs, activities, and maybe more sports, too. You'd always wanted to try out for sports or even be on the varsity squads if possible. Would it be like in the movies? As the car slows along the street, Alfred meets your anxious eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Damian, I expect you'll be there if Miss--" he says your name, "--needs anything. I'm going to park the car and escort you inside, as there happens to be a bit of preliminary paperwork your Father has requested I accompany you to fill out."

Surprisingly, Damian doesn't refute Alfred's sentiment, though as he parks the car, your half-brother hastily exits, headphones still in his ears as he scrolls through his phone. A quiet 'see ya later' is heard from him before the door slams shut. Soon enough you've filled out the registration forms and are given a schedule and tour. Alfred offers you a courteous nod and a lingering hand on your shoulder before he departs for the day. "I'll be here to pick you up when school lets out. You can do this, Miss," he assures with a warm smile. The comforting sentiment only lingers for so long.

It was somewhat embarrassing that you'd had to interrupt class to join in on eleventh-grade, American Literature, yet upon introduction, it doesn't go past your observation that many of the kids start whispering to one another. You’re sure it’s the fact that they’d introduced you as a Wayne. While a few people attempt to talk to you, for the most part, you feel overwhelmed with all the information and the way the lesson quickly continues. Trying to catch up and take everything in, it all feels like too much, and the unintentional tendency to disassociate naturally begins to happen. You zone out for most of the classes, the day passing in a whirlwind with sympathetic smiles from the teachers.

When school lets out, you find Alfred exactly where he'd parked this morning in front of the school. Leant against the car with his hands clasped in front of him, you begin making your way down the steps to meet him. Two boys quickly pass you, both laughing as they playfully smack one another's arms and talk in hushed voices. As you approach the car you realize it's Damian and some boy. He has friends? Who would be friends with him? He seemed so rude earlier, you can't help but think. Maybe he's just upset because you came along.

"Who's this?" The boy in the blue jacket asks as he watches you join Alfred.

"Mister Kent," Alfred greets the boy, "I take it you'll be joining us tonight?" When the boy flashes a smile full of bright white teeth up at him with an eager nod, you take it this is a family friend.

"She's... apparently Dad's daughter," Damian reveals, eyes slicing across the space till the intimidating green orbs land on you. "Don't mind her. I planned a few things we could do when we get to the Manor! I just got Mario Kart Ten and it's supposed to have a bunch of new maps and characters!"

Upon Alfred opening the car door, all three of you slide into the vehicle, the Kent boy separating you and Damian in the backseat. "So... your sister, you mean," He laughs. Despite what he'd said about ignoring you, the boy turns his smile your way with an extension of his hand. "I'm Jon! Damian's best friend. I actually go to West Reeves but I got out early so I could catch a ride to your house. You are..?"

Revealing your name, he repeats it with a fondness as you shake his hand. "I don't know that I'd say best," Damian groans with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh hush! Yes, you would," Jon argues, nudging your half-brother with his body as the two laugh.

"How was your first day, Miss? Did it go alright?" Alfred asks in the rearview mirror before pulling off the school's sidewalk and onto the street.

While this question was unexpected, you can't answer it. Was today good? You're unsure that any sort of sentiment could capture what today was like, truly. With your mother's death, the move, the new school, new people, and the luxury of it all... you feel unable to describe it all in one simple response. It doesn’t feel anything like the life you’ve come to know all these years. Sufficing simply for a nod, you purse your lips before opting for a quiet "Thanks." If nothing else, you can't deny that this old man has been kind to you since the moment you arrived. It seems he cares, but... isn't that also his job? You're not sure how butlers work, exactly, but surely that detail encompasses part of his job description, you think.

With the car parked in the driveway, you all exit the vehicle and head inside. Alfred asks if anyone wants a snack, however, you shake your head and point upstairs, signaling your destination.

You aren't sure what comes over you, a wave of hurt, sadness, angst, pain... there are endless synonyms for whatever it is that washes over you. It winds up there, wallowing in your chest like a weight you hadn't realized was weighing your shoulders down. Maybe it was the attention, the comments, the questions, or the energy it took to put on a 'fine' facade, yet it all finally comes crumbling down. With a click of the lock on your door, you make the final steps toward your unfamiliar bed. Letting the backpack fall from your shoulders haphazardly on the carpeted floors, you flop onto the bed face first, chest hitting the plush comforter before the rest of your body follows, the rebound sending your body bouncing slightly. Face screwing up into one of pain, you do your best to hold it back, and you're not quite sure why. No one's around, no one cares, so why won't you let yourself cry? Would that make it all real? Would that mean you're accepting her death? That she's really gone? That you're letting go? Moving on with your life? Thoughts of guilt consume you as you feel as though you should've known, you should've called her, or said something, maybe asked her to pick you up that day. Anything would've changed the chain in the course of events, right?

It's then, with the realization of a possible butterfly effect that a sob wracks your chest and tears stream down your cheeks. Like rapid fire, the sting of hot, salty tears cascade down your skin leaving streaks of mascara in its wake, you're sure. Screaming into your pillow, you can't help but struggle to breathe as you're not sure what to do. How do you move on from this? Where do you begin? What's left in your life, really? What does anything matter if she's gone? Your mom? The only person who's been there through your whole life from the beginning till, well… now. She was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime, your... everything. At the end of every day you always knew you'd have her to go back to. Never has the fear of being alone crossed your mind until right this second. Now you understand why so many people commit suicide each year. If their pain feels anything like this, then you can understand. All you can think, wish, and mentally pray for is this to stop. For the tears to stop falling and your breath to stop coming in quick bursts of panicked, hyperventilating heaves. Snot runs down your lips and it's hard to see with the blurriness of the tears in your eyes.

After a while, the crying eventually dies down and you lie--wishfully--lifeless on your bed. A small hand towel you'd grabbed from the bathroom is folded under your face where the tears would fall and you've folded it over the few times you'd blown your mucousy snot into it. Silence consumes the room, and you've found yourself simply staring up at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Constantly caught in your thoughts, between crying and being eerily silent, you're unsure if all this was destined to happen. Or maybe it was supposed to come out sooner. You’d never dealt with a grief like this. Maybe it's only because you've been pushing everything down into a deep dark place that only feels safe for you to express once you're absolutely sure you're alone. That has to be it.

In the midst of a quiet moment, your eyes and throat sore, head throbbing, there's a knock at the door. "Dinner will be served in just a few minutes." It's Alfred. You hope he hadn't heard your crying, though if he had... what can you really do? Nothing... just like everything else in life. You can't do anything.

A quick splash of cold water on your face, and hands combing your hair down, you make sure you look as presentable as possible. With that, you're ready to confront them again. Aside from the slight red tinge that persists around your eyes and the dark circles beneath them that are impossible to get rid of, you head downstairs. While you're sat in the same spot as this morning, you're joined by many more people this time. Bruce and Damian both sit at the ends of the table again, Tim sits across from you, he's flanked by the Detective, though this time by another man you don't recognize. He has a white stripe in his hair and a longer face than the others, but it suits him with his angular features. On your right sits a very tall and broad man clad in a business suit and glasses. Past him, sits Jon--who you'd met this afternoon--and across from Jon there's one more person who makes the table uneven in terms of people. It's a blonde girl, with an enticing sparkle in her eyes and a charming smile from what you can see from the other side of the table.

"This is my good friend, and Jon's dad, Clark Kent," Bruce introduces, gesturing to the man beside you. Said man holds out his big hand and offers a friendly smile.

"Pleasure to meet you," he recites your name and you reciprocate the handshake. It's good to know that not everyone in Damian's association is a complete asshole, you suppose.

"Nice to meet you too," you respond quietly. With the meal served, everyone dives into eating, leaving you a little unsettled. While your mother had come from a very religious upbringing, she hadn't forced it on you. Yet, you'd still find yourself and your mom praying before dinner to whatever God or higher deity might exist. In a way, it was more to give thanks each day for being alive and having food on the table. Sometimes it was a conversation starter when someone would mention what their day entailed, the good things they'd seen, or maybe the bad things they'd ask for protection from. Nevertheless, it's clear that this family operates differently; digging your fork into the fancy black-peppered pork roast, you use your knife to slice a piece off for yourself. Not in the mood to talk at the moment, you simply listen to what everyone's discussing.

With the lack of response they'd gotten from you, Bruce opts for talking to Clark about business and how things have been. Dick and Tim fill in the mysterious man on the little they knew of you. The blonde girl talks with the younger boys at the end of the table at moments but also butts into the other conversation among the young adults diagonally across the table from you. Stabbing multiple string green beans onto your fork, you don't make eye contact with anyone as you simply try to get through this dinner. Maybe then you can go upstairs and try to relax away from everyone.

"-something we shouldn't really talk about too much, but I can guess the funeral will be by the end of next week with all the arrangements I made today," Bruce speaks to Clark.

"Wait, what?" Your voice is quiet, only drawing the attention of those sitting closest to you. Butting into their conversation, you raise your eyes to meet your Father's surprised blue eyes.

"The funeral will be at the end of next week, I'm presuming. It'll take a little while with all the arrangements," he repeats. Though he seems hesitant, he doesn't keep himself from speaking it again. After all, he's someone who stands behind his actions. “I told you, this morning.”

"What? Why?" Your fork clanks against the chinaware, lips parted in shock as you dropped it. "You made the arrangements without me?"

"Yes. It was important that you go to school and it was all right there in the will." Forkful of mashed potatoes lingering in the air as his blue eyes bore into yours, you find your breath beginning to rise and fall at a faster rate.

Of course, none of them know your buttons and what it looks like once they've been pressed, but if your mother was here right now, she'd know. With a screech of the chair being pushed back hastily and a quiet slap of your palms on the table to stand, you're livid. "Why would you do that? How could you do that?!" Hands shaking, you begin to gesticulate, any former semblance of masked placation now fallen. All eyes are transfixed on your figure. "She's my mother! Mine! You don't even know her- I do! I know what she would've wanted, and this isn't it. Just because your name was on my birth certificate that means you get to take over my life? You, who doesn't even know anything about me, and yet you act like we're best friends?! Your children call you 'Bruce' and you have no problem with it! You don't get to just come into my life and fuck everything up! You sleep with her once, what? Sixteen years ago and now you come in and take over everything?" A wry laugh leaves your lips, "Well, more for you, I guess! Did you ever stop to think that there's a reason I had no idea who you were? Let alone, why she never told me? She never once asked for your money or your help, and now I'm just here. All my stuff? Gone. All my friends and family? Gone, a-"

"-We can go get your-" The Detective begins.

"-Oh, shut up! You really think anyone wants to hear what you have to say? You're adopted, so you're not even related to me! You don't know me. None of you do! The only good thing about this is I don't have to put up with being interrogated by the BPD every goddamn time I walk down the halls of school. But I'd at least take that over never seeing my friends again!"

"-What do you mean?" He follows up, commenting over you. Everyone else looks around the table silently, taken aback by what they're witnessing.

"You want to 'Bring Justice to Bludhaven', I guess, when everyone already knows what happened to Perdy Chapman! Everyone except the BPD, I guess!"

"How dare you?! You can't speak to my brother like that, you-"

"Finally! The only person I'm actually related to here. My half-brother, the mysterious 'Wayne Boy' who doesn't have a mom! You have no fucking empathy for me, you've been giving me shit all day! And yet you're the only person I would've expected to actually give a damn! So sit your ass down, pendejo twerp!"

Without asking for permission you storm out of the dining room and through the living room toward the staircase.

"I'm guessing you're done with your dinner?"

The voice stops you in your tracks, hand on the banister, you let out a loud sigh, shoulders falling before you try to maintain a jovial demeanor when turning to him. "I don't need you to do anything for me, Alfred. I think it's fucking ridiculous to have a servant when it's the twenty-first century for crying out loud!"

"It's my job. I assure you he pays me, if that gives you any consolation," Alfred speaks in a calm tone, unfazed by your words or behavior.

"Great! Well, I still don't need you doing things for me that I can do myself. Thank you, though," while the words come out through tense, grit-together teeth, you turn and head upstairs. It doesn't take long to get to your backpack, slinging it over your shoulders. Luckily, this was the one thing you knew you could do with the advantages of not only your room’s placement but a backyard. Opening the window, you climb out onto the tree branch sidled an arm’s length away.

Soon enough, you're on solid ground, out of the boundaries and gate of Wayne Manor. With a heaving chest and shaky hands, you speedwalk down the road toward where you know the bridge will be heading into Bludhaven from the transfer point on the Eastern Seaboard. This time for whatever reason, you can't bring yourself to cry. Maybe all the tears had already flooded from your body this afternoon, but nothing emanates from your tear ducts. Eyeing the blood that's already starting to dry on your palms from the splinters and the last little drop you'd had to take from the tree, you stare at your scraped palm.

It'd been silent upon your departure from the dining room. Bruce insisted that everyone return to eating, that everything was fine, and that this wasn't unexpected. While things returned normal for the most part, Jason excused himself with a displeased look toward his father. It wasn't until an alarm rang from Bruce's phone that he groaned and pulled it out only to find the surveillance outside capturing your figure leaving the premises. Announcing what the 'emergency' was, at everyone's persistence, Jon ran out of the room before Bruce could elect Clark to go check where you were headed.

It's a lone road, cypress trees lining it along the gravel-filled sides. With the road only being garnered by private property of the elite, and no real intersections for miles, no cars pass in either direction. As the sound of a faraway motorcycle approaches, you don't let it deter you. It'll be at least an hour or more before any of them realize you've left the property. They all think you're just upstairs crying to yourself, most likely. Rage still swirls in your gut, however, it's drained somewhat, being replaced by the determination to get home. A billionaire, his family, servant, and even a few splinters won't stop you. It doesn't strike you as odd that the sound of the nearing motorcycle slows; after all, not many people hitchhike on this road, you're guessing, and with the speed limit being higher in this area, the wind could cause you damage perhaps.

Jon had been faster, intrigued for some reason to find you--his justification upon later questioning--to find out where you were going. Clark trails behind him, neither of them bothering to change clothes as they fly above the closest road, trailing you from a distance silently in the shadows the darkness nightfall provides . It's only when they spot the familiar motorcyclist approaching you that they hold their position.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice is unfamiliar. While being catcalled isn't a stranger to you, it's still annoying that it'll happen in the middle of fucking nowhere. Ignoring the motorcycle that now stalls to your left, you continue walking with determination, eyes ahead and fists wrapped around each strap of your backpack upon your stiff shoulders. "Really? You're gonna ignore me and play it that way? Get on the motorcycle," the man calls your nickname, which elicits a reaction from you.

Eyes widening and lips parting, your eyebrows shoot upward as you finally look at the man. You don't remember his name, but he'd been sitting at the table across from you between Tim and that Detective. Expression immediately turning into one of anger, your jaw setting, you feel reinspired to make your way to Bludhaven. "I'm not going back! I can't," you argue, "plus I don't even know you. Why would I go with you?!"

A chuckle leaves his lips and you hear the shifting of plastic before the motorcycle revs in a way that elicits an automatic jump from your body. The motorcycle speeds a few feet down the road before it does a loop and skirting and drifts into a stopped position just a few feet in front of you. Legs on either side of the vehicle, the man flicks the visor of his helmet back up and reaches into the back compartment, producing another. Before you have time to react, he throws the helmet your way. Hands instinctively reach out to catch it instead of letting yourself get hit with the speed of it. You wince; it pushes the splinters further into your palm. You come to a standstill a few feet away from him as you lift the helmet slowly, inspecting it only to see the blood starting to pool around your palms again.

"I'm Jason," he reveals, "I don't know where you plan to go running away like this, but you don't think the old man will notice you're gone sooner than later? What's your plan then?"

Irritation and a desperate anger linger in your chest as your eyes finally raise to meet his. "Well, Jason, it's none of your business! Regardless, it doesn't matter. You can't stop me." Approaching him, you're about to shove the helmet in his hands when he raises a hand of his own, palm out facing you in an effective halt.

"Truce? Look, I know you don't know me, but I was like you. I grew up in Crime Alley and had to steal tires for a living. I tried to steal the-" he stops himself, another chuckle escaping his lips, "the old man's, and that's how we met. I get it... it's not easy, and, no one expects you to just go along with everything, alright? If you're thinking about going home, well, that'll take what-? Hours on foot? You really want to walk hours to... where are you from, again? Bludhaven, right? What part?"

"Canaveron District, yeah," you respond gruffly, some of the tension leaving your shoulders. His points are all ones of useful consideration.

"You won't get there for another three hours walking, at best. If you just want to get your things, well, I can take you there. But we'd have to get everyone else-"

"No! no, I don't want-"

"-If you let me finish," he warns, "I was going to say get the others to help tomorrow or this weekend, to get the rest. Alright? Just essentials tonight, and I bring you right back here. Got it?" His eyes search yours for a moment before he adds, "That's the best I can do for you, kid. Otherwise, I've gotta drag you back to the Manor kicking and screaming, which I really don't want to do."

"He sent you?" You weren't too surprised, only that if anyone was coming, you figured it would've been Bruce, himself. It's only when Jason notices you looking around and contemplating your decision that he cocks his head toward the Manor, signaling the Kents to leave. He's got this.

"No. I came, because... unlike those other dicks, I actually know what it's like to come from, well, somewhere that's not the greatest," he admits, a look of sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

"And this isn't some scam? You just tell me this, get me on the bike, and then take me back to the White House?" This elicits a laugh from the man, and he runs a gloved hand through his black and white hair.

"Look, I don't know how much they've mentioned about me, but... let's just say I'm not exactly in Bruce's good favor if you know what I mean." Reading the look on your face, he expands. "I'm not exactly the goody-two-shoes of the family. If you want your stuff, I'll take you, but only because I know he wouldn't do that."

"Why?" Standing in silence, the two of you search one another's eyes for any sense of understanding. It's tacit, the question that you both know you were really asking, yet he doesn't make you voice it: why would you do this for me?

"Because I know what it's like to have everything taken from you." A sigh leaves his lips, and you can tell simply from his stance and demeanor that this man has been through much more than he's letting on. "If you wanna do this, we should get going. I can't be out too late tonight. You coming? Or should I call the old man and let him know what your plan is and where you are?" With a raised brow and eyes flicking toward the helmet in your hands and back to your eyes, he awaits an answer.

"I'm coming." Sliding the helmet over your head, you approach the vehicle. "Just... don't tell him, please! At least don't tell him for another... fifteen minutes?" The request elicits a questioning look before a smirk replaces it.

"Deal. Hang on," he requests. Shifting the bike to stand upright, he leans closer and reaches under your chin to clip a strap in place you hadn't noticed. He tightens it, checking in with you, and then gets onto the bike. "You ever ridden a motorcycle?"

With a thick swallow, your eyes shift from his to the bike. Sliding over the seat, you're unsure where to place your feet, but Jason instructs you, making sure you're comfortable before you slide your arms around his waist and brace for takeoff. Visor flicked down and everything in place, he revs the motorcycle before speeding down the road.

Beneath the helmet, the ends of your hair tickle your arm as it whips through the air. Cool breeze wooshes past your body, arms able to feel the chill through the blazer of your new uniform, your legs gaining goosebumps through the exhilarating experience. Cypress trees turn into willows, which become more and more sparse as gates and brick walls slowly fade with the elitist properties into cemeteries and then into more forest before turning more industrial. As different plants and factories appear, so do the cars. Jason weaves in and out of traffic as he maneuvers his way down the highway and onto the bridge that winds around Gotham and finally goes into Bludhaven. The lights and sights passing this fast is intimidating at the thought of crashing, however, it's thrilling in a way you've also never experienced. Skyscrapers line the island, lights, signs, and monuments only add a sort of fascination and exuberant liveliness to it. As the Wayne Enterprises sign passes, you finally feel comfortable enough to remove one hand from Jason's side for a moment, long enough to flash a quick middle finger at the sign before fearfully grabbing onto his jacket again.

With a laugh and shake of his head, he removes a hand from the handlebar to flip the bird alongside you, eliciting what he thinks is a laugh. Nevertheless, he can feel the fear in your grip so he returns his hand to the handlebars and makes sure to keep his focus on the road. It's not likely they'd crash, not unless someone was out for him and knows his bike, not to mention his civilian identity. Not that he goes too far out of his way to hide it, but it's not impossible. He's confident in his abilities, but considering you don't know each other that well, he doesn't do anything to further scare you.

As he draws nearer to the Canaveron District, he slows down enough for you to give him directions. Parking the bike outside the apartment complex you’ve identified, Jason helps you off the bike and stashes the helmets in the back. "Lead the way, little lady," he encourages.

~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980

[adrl-pt]

Saving Activist Andrey Gnyot. VPN Protest. Charity Lecture by a Political Philosopher.

You are watching the news from the weekly rally at the Russian Embassy in Lisbon. Today is August 24, 2:30 PM.

Since the end of last week, Belarusian and Russian activists have been holding a protest demanding that Belarusian activist Andrey Gnyot not be extradited to dictator Lukashenko. On August 21, Andrey and his lawyers shared the details of his case on the European Radio channel. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-upcgkIwWSA

On August 25 at 2 PM, we will gather in front of the Serbian Embassy in Lisbon at Rua de Alcolena 11. https://www.facebook.com/events/1043644033328903/

If you cannot come, please take photos with posters and send them to us at info@adrl.pt.

Sign and share the petition that could help Andrey in the Serbian court. https://www.peticije.online/slobodazaandreja

Also, support the fundraising for his legal defense. https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-andrey-gnyot-save-his-life

We believe it is important to support Andrey because we understand the problems that dictator Lukashenko creates for Belarusians. Recently, with great difficulty, the rock band Bi-2 was saved from deportation to Russia. https://www.change.org/p/thailand-free-bi-2-rock-band

Currently, Russian citizen Vladislav Arinichev is under threat of deportation from Croatia. The reason is that Putin labeled him a "terrorist" and "extremist" for his anti-war statements. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RU2JQ9NArqo

In April, Novaya Gazeta Evropa reported that Rosfinmonitoring is adding both people suspected of terrorist activities and, for example, employees of an Orenburg gay bar in a case about the alleged "extremist LGBT movement" to this list. This list already contains more than 14,000 people, including well-known journalists, politicians, and theater figures. https://novayagazeta.eu/articles/2024/04/02/s-nachala-2024-goda-spisok-terroristov-i-ekstremistov-rosfinmonitoringa-popolnilsia-na-rekordnye-669-chelovek-17-iz-nikh-nesovershennoletnie-news

Back in 2018, Novaya Gazeta reported how law enforcement agencies find "extremism" in social media posts. https://novayagazeta.ru/articles/2018/08/21/77560-etot-spisok-grazhdanskaya-smert

In the Freedom House Internet Freedom Rating, Russia ranks fifth from the bottom, while Belarus is seventh. https://freedomhouse.org/countries/freedom-net/scores?sort=asc&order=Total%20Score%20and%20Status

On August 23, the director of the "Internet Protection Society" Mikhail Klimarev reported disruptions in the work of Telegram, WhatsApp, and Viber. https://t.me/zatelecom/28739

On July 26, he shared two working methods for bypassing the blocks and slowdowns of YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbTGhCYFIsY

These are the Ceno Browser and VPN generator. https://censorship.no/ru/download.html https://t.me/vpngeneratorbot/?start=BrSh2607

The Telegram channel "Tech Talk" published a link on how to purchase Amnezia VPN while bypassing the blocking of their main site. https://t.me/ru_tech_talk/543

They also provided instructions on how to connect MTProxy, which helped with Telegram blocking in 2018. https://t.me/ru_tech_talk/544

While Russians are protesting by installing VPNs, Ukrainian journalist Yuriy Butusov burned the files of Russian draft dodgers at the Sudzha military registration and enlistment office, calling them "smart people." One of the comments under this video reads: "One Ukrainian soldier helped these people more than their native Russia." https://www.youtube.com/shorts/qaeEidnquCE

On August 27 at 7 PM, we will hold a charity lecture on what a revolutionary situation is. The lecture will be given by political philosopher Ilya Budraitskis. We recommend registering using the phone number listed on the poster so that we can better understand how many viewers will attend. https://www.facebook.com/events/1021147643042506/

We are holding this event as part of our regular support for the Netherlands Orphans Feeding Foundation, which works to return stolen Ukrainian children. If you can't come, please make a donation from home. https://www.every.org/orphans-feeding-foundation/f/help-us-return-the-deported

Proofs and links are in the description. Subscribe and help!

[oribellame]

Hello, there's an important context to this illustration I made.

Paul Watson is one of the founding members of Greenpeace and the founder of Sea Shepherd and Captain Paul Watson Foundation.

"On July 21 2024, Captain Paul Watson was arrested by Danish police upon arrival in Nuuk, Greenland, onboard the M/Y John Paul DeJoria. Danish authorities claim that the arrest was made due to an international arrest warrant issued by Japan, related to his anti-whaling campaigns in the Antarctic more than a decade ago.

Paul faces the possibility of extradition to Japan, where he could spend the rest of his life in prison."

Please consider informing yourself on the official website of Captain Paul Watson Foundation, spreading the word, and signing the official petitions.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Noah Berlatsky at Public Notice:

Donald Trump’s victory in the presidential election last week has led, inevitably, to a miserable round of Democratic blaming, shaming, bitterness, and general panic.

Bernie Sanders (as he tends to do) claimed the loss was the fault of the Democrats having “abandoned working class people.” Nancy Pelosi blamed Joe Biden for not exiting the race early enough, and the lack of an open primary. New York Rep. Tom Suozzi and Massachusetts Rep. Seth Moulton gracelessly embraced the bigoted talking point that the Democrats lost because of their (albeit limited) support for trans rights.

None of these analyses are very convincing. Nor are they especially helpful to vulnerable constituents who are terrified of what a Trump term means for them. A Democratic Party focused on bickering and blame — or worse looking for ways to throw various constituencies to the MAGA wolves — is not the Democratic Party we need right now.

[...]

Blue state governors won’t save us, but they can help

One of the most vocal blue state governors to promise anti-MAGA measures has been JB Pritzker of Illinois. In a combative news conference last Thursday, Pritzker warned Trump and MAGA, “To anyone who intends to come take away the freedom and opportunity and dignity of Illinoisans: I would remind you that a happy warrior is still a warrior.” “You come for my people, you come through me,” he concluded.

Pritzker’s statement wasn’t just bluster. Illinois has taken a range of measures to shore up protections for vulnerable groups since Pritzker won the governor’s race in 2018. The state passed a law in 2023 shielding abortion recipients from civil or criminal discovery and from extradition to other states. The same law ensured that insurance in Illinois would cover abortion medication and gender-affirming care, and also strengthened protections for IVF. Pritzker also signed legislation making it easier for trans people to change the gender on their birth certificates without medical certification. And the state passed laws to provide for foster provisions and guardianship for children of immigrants arrested or deported by ICE. Now the Illinois governor is working on plans to try to limit the damage from Trump going forward. He and staffers have been studying Trump’s Project 2025 plan for the next four years. In the 2025 legislative session, Pritzker plans to pass additional legislation to protect the identity of abortion refugees and to try to safeguard access to the abortion pill mifepristone. He’s also looking into ways to shore up environmental regulations.

Perhaps most pressingly, Pritzker says he has been in touch with other Democratic governors to discuss Project 2025 plans to withhold police grants from blue states that refuse to participate in mass deportation. Pritzker said that such actions would be “illegal” and promised to oppose them in court. Pritzker’s actions are being mirrored in other blue states. Gavin Newsom in California has called a special legislative session to provide more funds for the state attorney general’s office to challenge Trump measures on abortion, the environment, gun control, union dues, and more. New York Gov. Kathy Hochul and New York AG Letitia James said they would increase coordination between their offices to “protect New Yorkers’ fundamental freedoms from any potential threats.” Washington state AG Bob Ferguson tweeted that the state had been “working for months to prepare for another Trump term,” going through Project 2025 “line by line” to address “unconstitutional assaults on your reproductive rights, access to health care, and civil rights.”

Happy to see some Blue state governors such as Pritzker, Newsom, and Hochul protect their state’s people from MAGA fascism.

[nando161mando]

[the50-person]

The risk goes beyond formal arrest and extradition. The bounties on offer may encourage vigilantism, and sympathetic governments may turn a blind eye to or even facilitate extra-legal rendition of the eight exiled activists.

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This is illustrated by the 2015 case of the five Hong Kong booksellers who disappeared from various locations, including Thailand, and later showed up in China where they “confessed” to crimes in the state media.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Bibi Netanyahu has now officially said that Israel has killed Hamas' 4th most crucial senior. The top 4 Hamas terrorists are, by Israel's order: Yahya Sinwar (#1), the leader in Gaza, Mohammed Deif (#2), the military leader of Hamas in Gaza, Marwan Issa (#3), Deif's second in command, and Saleh al-Arouri (#4), the military leader of Hamas outside of Gaza and the deputy of Hamas' "political bureau."

We already had reason to think Israel was behind al-Arouri's death, after the Oct 7 massacre (on Jan 2), but now it's confirmed. Bibi's admission comes while everyone's still trying to understand whether Israel has managed to kill Hamas' 3rd most crucial senior, Marwan Issa, on the night between this Saturday and sunday. So far, Hamas is trying to provide proof he's alive, but apparently there's been no contact with him since Israel's strike. If he has been killed, that would make the other two Hamas seniors in Gaza, Sinwar and Deif, far more afraid for their lives, and maybe more willing to show flexibility in releasing the Israeli hostages to save themselves.

Italy has arrested 3 Palestinians for their intent to carry out terrorist attacks. The attacks were meant to be carried out on what Italy referred to as, "foreign soil," Israel is asking for the extradition of at least one. The three were living in Italy for years based on humanitarian visas. They're said to be a part of the al-Aqsa Martyrs' Brigades. For those who don't know, this was a terrorist organization that was originally receiving orders and funding from Fatah, the ruling party of the Palestinian Authority, but today it has splintered into separate cells, some still affiliated with Fatah, some operating independently, and some linked to Lebanese terrorist organization Hezbollah. They've been defined by the European Union (which Italy as a part of) as a terrorist organization since 2023. At least some of the al-Aqsa Martyrs' Brigades participated in the Oct 7 massacre.

At the Oscars, a director hijacked his own "cerebral" Holocaust movie in order to make a political point, in which he denounced hijacking the Holocaust for political purposes, right before dedicating his reward to a non-Jew (who, as an actual ally to Jews, might not have wanted his dedication anyway, but we'll never know, since she died in 2017. Yep, he hijacked her memory as well for his political message). I just want to share the Oscar winning speech of a Jewish Holocaust survivor and movie producer, who never forgot that when you make movies about this horrific time, it should be first and foremost about remembering the victims. Branko Lustig then dedicated his Oscar for Schindler's List to the Jewish people, by donating it to the Israeli institute of Yad Vashem, the one country in the world where people's access to the memory of the Holocaust will never depend on the good will of a non-Jewish majority. You can see the award when you visit our viewing center, where you can watch tens of thousands of Holocaust survivors' testimonies, and listen to their own voices.

Here's a reminder that most of the Jews who were murdered in or survived the Holocaust, were Zionist, and it's wrong to erase their voices, it's wrong to ignore the survivors who were killed, kidnapped or otherwise victimized by Hamas on Oct 7, it's wrong to ignore that they are still targeted by these terrorists simply for being Jews, and it's wrong to throw them under the bus in a hypocritical speech, which reverses who were the first ones to be de-humanized in this conflict, when they erased our Jewish historical connection to the land, our native right to live in it, our efforts to make peace with the Arabs, and the fact that anti-Jewish violence in Israel preceded by decades the existence of the Jewish state. The violence of Oct 7, of the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, is a direct result of decades of antisemitic de-humanization of Jews before the conflict even had two sides, and no one has a right to ignore that, or hijack the memory of the Holocaust to do it.

I wrote about Canada, and now Sweden is also resuming its funding of UNRWA, and the European Union is also releasing 50 million Euros (over 54.6 million dollars) for UNRWA funding, despite the fact that nothing has actually been done about the symbiosis between UNRWA and Palestinian terrorism. I have zero faith in the UN self-investigation of its own agency, but not even that has been concluded. By starting the funding again without taking even a single measure to make sure that their money isn't going to anti-Jewish terrorism, these countries are sending a CLEAR message that they do not care about the lives of Israelis and Jews. The idea that they have to, because otherwise how would Palestinians get humanitarian aid, is a fig leaf they're hiding behind. Already, I heard one journalist mention that over 50% of the humanitarian aid is being distributed in Gaza by organizations that are not UNRWA, but more than that, in places which had suffered much worse humanitairan crises, and where the UN had no unique local agency (which is everywhere outside the one conflict involving a Jewish state), the UN has never had trouble establishing temporary aid infrastructure. They had no need for an agency operating in that locale for so long, that it has become a party to the conflict. So why is Gaza different!? Why do the lives of Jews and Israelis not matter enough to search for solutions, proven to have worked before, other than funding a terrorist-embedded organization?

Today is the first day of Ramadan in the Islamic year of 1445. Today I wanna wish a Ramadan mubarak to all peace loving Muslims, who uphold the true peace loving meaning of Ramadan, but my heart and my wishes especially go out to (left to right in the pics below) 53 years old Yussuf al-Ziadna, his son 22 years old Hamza al-Ziadna, and 53 years old Farchan al-Qaddi, the three Muslim Israeli hostages still in Gazan captivity. May they get to be released soon and observe this month together with their families, in their own home, in the true spirit of this holiday.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[vigilantkilliforniakatholixxx]

You don’t hate the legacy media enough folks. The Associated Press uses a passive beta voice when reporting on this Christmas market terror attack in Magdeburg, Germany. As if the car simply drove itself peacefully, and the affected number of people small and insignificant. It wasn’t a “group of people” — it was an entire mass of people whose bodies were flung by the force of the impact, and many more who were crushed beneath the wheels as the vehicle zig zagged its way through the packed market driven by a terrorist saudi man (who we now know was a zionist!!!). edit - new info -

The suspect behind the Christmas market attack in Germany has been identified as Talib Al-Abdulmohsen, an anti-Islamic pro zionist terrorist and atheist.

Wanted in Saudi Arabia for terrorism and trafficking girls to Europe, he was granted political asylum in Germany, which refused his extradition despite the charges. edit - Reality: he was self-identified leftist, anti Islam progressive, and Zionist. He did NGO work to traffic more former Muslims like himself into Europe. Does that sound like a far-right position? His main gripe with Germany, and the reason he said he would carry out a terror attack, is Germany not doing enough to give asylum to women from Saudi Arabia. This was a pro-immigration terror attack by a foreigner who should never have been in Europe, regardless of his beliefs.