#but also. i can use it for acab so
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Stale(mate)
Summary: A pact written in blood.
(Vampire!au Dickinette. Vampire!Mari says ACAB. As a cop, Dick thinks this is very concerning.)
It started, as all cases of serial killers do, with a single body.
It was a particularly alarming scene, one that haunted the few officers that had borne witness to it for the next several days. Not because of the murder itself, though that was frightening on its own. When the man’s head had been lifted to check for a pulse, they were given a perfect view of why his neck could no longer support it – for there wasn’t much neck left at all. Deep claw marks poked their way through his shirt, curling themselves in his skin, leaving gaping wounds in their wake. Gunpowder residue suggested that the man had shot at his attacker, but there was no bullet at the scene, and no blood. Not even his own. Despite the cruelty involved in the murder, it was clear that there was a method behind the madness, because he had been bled of every last drop, and said blood had been stolen away.
This wasn’t why the police had been so shaken, though.
It was because the man was one of their own.
It was because, in the officer’s hand, stiff with rigor mortis, was a slip of paper, with one simple sentence in curling, elegant script:
The police department has been dirty lately, but don’t worry, I will clean it up for you all.
Needless to say, the case quickly became a high priority.
Everyone on the force was called to inspect the scene. Invited to take pictures of evidence. Begged for theories.
Dick Grayson knelt in front of the body. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but not quite out of disgust or concern like his peers’.
No, his eyes found their way to the hand that had been clutching the note. It had been taken away for the sake of evidence, but the words were seared into his mind regardless.
The man in front of him had been a dirty cop. Dick had known that even before this had happened, but he had never been able to get any hard evidence. Nothing that couldn’t have been explained away, at least.
Now, it wasn’t necessary.
The words on the slip of paper echoed the ones he had told himself when he had joined the Bludhaven PD. The promise he had made to himself. That he would find evidence on all of the dirty cops, that he would clean up the force.
It seemed like someone was going to do all of the hard work for him.
He put the thought out of his mind. He might agree with the reasoning, at least on some level, but he figured that agreeing with a potential serial killer wasn’t exactly the way to go.
He shook his head. He would focus on this case, get this murderer off the streets, and then go back to his true goal.
⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆
How do you catch someone who leaves no clues behind?
The night it happened, Dick had been staying late, pondering this very question. More cops had been found dead, all drained of blood, all looking as if they had had a run-in with a wild animal, all with their throats torn out. He had stared at the many pictures of all of the different crime scenes that lay strewn across his desk, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, trying to find any semblance of a clue. But there wasn’t any.
His attention had been stolen away.
Maybe this should have been the first sign.
It shouldn’t have been all that interesting, shouldn’t have held his gaze longer than a few seconds. A cop was bringing in a woman. Based on the gem-covered, short dress with a low v-cut, and the fact that she was clearly on at least one substance, Dick figured she had probably come from a bar. Nothing new. Not worth the ruckus that had started up the moment she had come in, and certainly not worth a second glance from him in particular.
“Drunk and disorderly,” the cop holding her hands behind her back announced to the too-curious room.
Her eyes were sharp when they swept over the room. This should have been the second sign.
The third sign came quickly, the moment she spoke. For there wasn’t nearly as much of a slur to her words as the strap of her dress hanging from her shoulder and the dazed look on her face might have suggested:
“C’mooooon,” she complained, leaning back against the officer, digging her heels in to make it harder for him to take her to one of the holding cells, her head turning to nuzzle into his neck. “Can’t we just keep this between you ‘n me? I’ll make it worth your while…”
The officer’s face flushed red. Her mouth came to press against his pulse point.
Her lips curled into a kind of grin. But not the kind of grin you might expect from someone who was about to get out of jail. Dick had seen that look before. That was full of relief, or sometimes smug, but this was different. No, there was something malevolent there.
She whispered something, and this was the final warning.
Because the officer’s eyes widened in abject terror.
Dick started to rise, his hand finding its way to the gun at his hip.
He never got the chance to even try.
She dug her teeth into his neck and pulled, yanking his artery right out into the open. Blood spurted, splashing everyone in the nearby vicinity in red.
Including her, but she didn’t seem all that concerned. She held the rapidly dying man close to her, her head still tipped back against his shoulder, her tongue poking out of her mouth as if she was concentrating hard on something.
Finally, he was allowed to fall to the ground, and she showed off freed hands. The handcuffs still hung from one of her wrists, but she was no longer limited to only her teeth.
A bullet slammed into her stomach, and she stumbled just slightly with the force of it, but didn’t seem all that affected. She reached down to pick the bullet out of her dress, and then presented it for all to see. There wasn’t a single speck of blood on it.
“Someone’s gonna be paying me back for this dress. I liked it.”
This wasn’t their main concern, though, because the woman launched herself at the cop who had dared to shoot her.
She didn’t even bother with her teeth this time. Instead, she slashed her throat with long claws, and the woman gave a silent scream as she went down, frantically trying to hold the blood in.
She didn’t pay her any mind, instead turning to her next victim.
Dick just… stared as she made quick work of the precinct.
He couldn’t quite bring himself to jump directly into a losing battle. He knew better than that. The only effect the constant gunfire seemed to have on her was annoyance. If she wasn’t concerned about a bullet, then there was little he could do to stop her. She was fast, invulnerable, and (if the desk she threw at the people running for the doors meant anything) stronger than a normal person could reasonably fight off. Fighting her was stupid, and so he didn’t.
And, beyond that… well, he had already admitted, even if just to himself, that he agreed with her goal, even if her methods were hard to agree with. He couldn’t quite bring himself to try and stop her when she was doing what he had been struggling with for months now.
She was efficient, if ruthlessly so.
Before long, he was the only person left alive.
She slowed to a stop. Her hair was a mess, her bun on its last legs, strands falling in her face messily. Somehow, this didn’t make her look like a mess at all. Somehow, even the blood spilling down her chin just added to the strange, unearthly beauty that he couldn’t seem to look away from.
Her lips pulled into an amused smile.
His eyes caught on her teeth, dripping red. On the long canines that might have poked out of her mouth even when her lips were closed, on the other sharp teeth that could tear him to shreds in a second. She ran a tongue over her teeth, her eyes gleaming with something that was distinctly inhuman. Something more.
“You didn’t shoot,” she said.
He swallowed thickly, and then mentally cursed himself when the motion drew her eyes to his neck. “I –... it wasn’t helping anyone else,” he said.
She hummed, pursing her lips in a way that was definitely mocking him. “Did you know your heart rate increases when you lie?”
“Well, my heartrate being fast isn’t all that surprising. I am a little scared of you.”
She laughed, and her teeth glinted in the light. “That, at least, is true.”
She walked towards him, her steps slow and languid, as if she had all the time in the world.
She did.
She came to stand in front of him, and he almost laughed aloud at the height difference between them. You would expect a serial killer to be tall, strong, imposing. She was strong, but if he hadn’t known any better he would have walked right past her on the street without being any the wiser. If not for the blood staining her front, he might have thought her pretty. Maybe he still did, but not in the way he usually found people pretty, but instead like a waterfall. A force of nature, a gorgeous thing you can’t quite tear your eyes away from, something that will pitch you off the side of a cliff, down hundreds of feet towards your doom.
Her gaze flicked downwards, to the gun pointed at her heart. It was useless, they both knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of it. Maybe it was because he was human, but he couldn’t give in, couldn’t lay down and die. Not entirely. He wanted to fight. He wanted to keep her from truly trying to fight him.
Too pale blue eyes (bloodless, he realized dully) zeroed in on the nameplate on his chest. Her gaze, briefly, flicked to the side, as if considering, but either she didn’t care enough to dwell on it or her thoughts raced faster than he could ever hope to comprehend, because she found her way back to his eyes within a second.
She leaned into his space. A hand came up to cup his chin, and he only just stopped himself from flinching.
If she wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t be able to stop her. If he couldn't hold onto his life then, at least, he would hold onto his pride.
A finger came to rest against his pulse point, and even he could feel just how fast his blood was pumping beneath it.
He didn’t have much pride left, but he could at least have this. The knowledge that he hadn’t screamed and cried and tried to run away like everyone else.
“Officer Grayson?” She said, and a faint accent hung onto her words as she sounded out the name, but he couldn’t quite care about figuring out where it was from when a fanged mouth was nearing him. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, so I’ll let you off for good behavior.”
“You’re pretty close for someone that’s going to be letting me go.”
She hummed, an impossibly low sound that almost reminded him of a purr, and then tilted his head to the side with her hand. “Well, something tells me that your shock might wear off soon, and I want to be able to clean up in peace.”
This was all the warning he got before her teeth sunk into his neck.
Have you ever been put under anesthesia?
A sudden rush, a buzzing in your head drowning out all thoughts you could have in just a second. No matter how hard you thrash, no matter the amount of panic making your heart race, your eyes droop against your will. Within seconds, you’re gone.
That was what it was like.
Not that Dick passed out, per say. No, he was very much awake. He just… couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything. Not even stand on his own two feet. If it were not for the arm wrapped around his waist, the hand cradling his chin, he would have collapsed instantly. The gun slipped from his fingers and somewhere, distantly, he recognized that it had gone off, but he didn’t really care.
Lips detached themselves from his skin, and she carefully lowered him to the ground.
She smiled, swiping away the stream of blood sliding down the side of her face with her thumb.
“Sweet,” she mused.
“Mm,” Dick said, though even he wasn’t sure what he had been trying to say. He felt… floaty. He had never been one for drugs and had never liked the taste of alcohol enough to get anywhere near blackout drunk, but he suddenly understood why people were so into them. There was something relaxing about not being able to hold a thought longer than a few seconds, freeing about the idea of all of his worries falling away into nothing. He was almost scared of how he would feel after the weird floatiness was gone, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care about that.
All he could think about was the pleasant little smile on the woman’s face, sharp teeth dripping with blood and something that had a deep purple tint.
He lifted a heavy hand towards her.
She snickered and batted the hand away with ease. “Mm indeed, Officer Grayson. How about you get some shut-eye, hm?”
That sounded like a good idea.
He thought about thanking her for it, but he drifted before he could.
⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆
Dick, obviously, had a lot of things to explain when he awoke, his head pounding and in desperate need of something to eat.
Luckily or unluckily, the footage of the incident had been wiped. As had the blood. He wasn’t sure how she did it, because the murders had been bloody and she’d made no attempts at all to try and mitigate that… but his concern was more with how he would have looked on camera. He hadn’t made any attempts to stop her, and had allowed her to put him to sleep without any hints of a struggle. It would not have looked good.
But it also didn’t look good to be the new-ish recruit who was inexplicably the only one left alive during a mass murder.
Thankfully, his blood tests exonerated him. His inability to react was attributed to high traces of a sedative that had gotten into his system. The two pinpricks in his neck were said to be the injection sight and, thanks to the awkward positioning that would require him to contort quite a bit to take it himself, they just assumed he was dosed by a rowdy criminal he had arrested earlier that day, and that it had kicked in at a bad time.
Within a few hours, he was let go to go and sleep off the last of the ‘drug’, given a few days' grace before he would need to give a witness statement…
But he didn’t sleep.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Because it was his job. She was a case that he needed to solve, and it had suddenly become far more difficult. It would take careful planning to take her down. There was a very high chance that he would die trying.
And…
Because of the way she had made him feel. Even hours later, he couldn’t seem to stop craving the feeling of her teeth sinking into him. It hadn’t even hurt. The second she had broken the skin, he had been enveloped in a warm feeling that he couldn’t help but want to go back to. It was as if all of his problems had melted away in that second, and who wants to have problems? Wasn’t it only natural to get a taste of that kind of freedom and then crave it from then on?
As long as he didn’t let it affect his search for her, then it didn’t really matter.
He gripped his phone tighter, the veins in his arms bulging.
It might even help.
⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆
It had been three weeks, but there she was.
If he hadn’t seen it in person, he wouldn’t believe it.
A real-life vampire.
Standing in the sun. He supposed it wasn’t all that surprising to see that she didn’t die like in the stories. The idea of something as powerful as her crumbling away into ash over something so trivial seemed impossible.
If she had noticed him, she didn’t show it. Humming a playful little tune, her head bobbing to music playing in her earbuds, her sundress flowing in the wind, her mess of keychains clinking together as she locked up her apartment… she looked human, in that moment. Like any other person who was just going about their day. She had a job as a tailor. A couple of friends that she would meet up with later. A pet cat that was already meowing and scratching at the door, begging for her to go back in for ‘just a couple more’ pets. She was so… normal.
Maybe the reason they were seen as creatures of the night was less about that being their domain, and more about how difficult it was to see her as anything but human during the daytime. It was hard to conflate the image of her dripping in blood with the girl who looked so alive.
Dick’s breath caught in his throat.
She paused just slightly. She didn’t move, didn’t even stop humming, and yet the air around her changed. Her smile stretched wider, showing off the fangs that had been plaguing his mind for weeks.
But the sun softened even that edge. Glittery lipgloss glimmered on her lips. Sunspots decorated the bridge of her nose. Even the lifeless blue eyes he had noticed on that first night seemed bright when reflecting the sunlight.
She clapped her hands together by her face as if she was just so delighted to see him. “Officer Grayson, sweetheart, how have you been?” she greeted him, as if they were old friends, as if he hadn’t shown up at her house uninvited and she hadn’t killed a majority of his coworkers.
“Awful,” he hissed.
Which was true. His skin had taken on a pallor, sweat beaded his brow more often than not, and his hair hung limp around his face. Whenever the few coworkers he had left asked, he would say he was sick, but that wasn’t quite right. He just felt… antsy. Like something was crawling beneath his skin, trying to claw its way out. He needed to keep moving. If he didn’t, his mind would stray back to the floaty feeling that the vampire had given him, and how that might help calm him down.
“Yeah, you look it,” she teased, taking a few short strides in his direction. “That venom did a number on you. Maybe I used too much…?”
She reached a hand out, ready to grab him by the chin, looking so damn concerned that he almost believed it, but he caught her wrist before she could.
The handcuffs hanging from one of his belt loops were burning hot in the few places where they touched his leg. Which was to be expected on a day as hot as this, where he had to unbutton his shirt and roll up his sleeves for fear of heat stroke, metal does get hot… but it was more than that.
The handcuffs that his department used were plated with silver, or at least a pure enough alloy of it for the cuffs to give vampires pause. Back during her siege on the precinct, she had forgone the use of her superhuman strength when getting out of the cuffs, having to get out the old-fashioned way by stealing the key. If there was any chance of subduing her in a way that was still in line with his training as a police officer, it was through this.
He needed to arrest her.
And yet.
He needed answers more.
He knew where she lived, anyways, so it wasn’t like she could up and leave that easily.
He could spare a few moments to ask why he felt so terrible. Why all of his thoughts were plagued with thoughts of the purple venom that she had injected into him.
“What did you do to me?”
She inspected him for a minute, blue eyes boreing into his own, and he couldn’t help but look away.
She must have found whatever she was looking for regardless, because she answered him: “I used some venom – er, vampire venom, though I think you know that much at least – it was just to calm you down. It’s supposed to be used to subdue our…” she glanced to the side “food while we eat it – think like a rattlesnake or something, but a little more enjoyable for the food… less neurotoxin more vague high feeling… usually people like me tend to take more time when eating, I just tend to be on a bit of a time crunch, so I don’t really use it for that… it does make a good sedative for getaways, though, which is why I did that…”
He stared at her. It stood to good reason that she had never explained venom before, vampires were secretive in nature, but the explanation was so scattered, as if she was coming up with all of it on the fly.
How had he ever thought her a threat?
How was she?
“Now,” she said. “As fun as explaining that was, I do have to pay the bills, so –.”
“Why did you let me live?”
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve already told you. It’s because I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” Her lips twitched. “You’re ‘one of the good ones’, if you want to explain it terribly.”
“Why should that matter? I’m still food.”
“You’re not food. And, just so you know, I’m not a monster, either.”
He went quiet.
She smiled.
“Ciao,” she said.
Her teeth sunk into his arm, and that was just about the last thing he remembered before he was back to floating. His skin felt like it was buzzing where she held him, dragging him back toward his car. His vision was a blur of bright skies and a brilliant smile.
⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆
Dick groaned when he came to properly. He was laid across the backseat of his own car, the hand she hadn’t bitten pillowing his head. Which meant both of his arms were numb, great. His eyes struggled to focus on the ceiling of the car. Possibly because there wasn’t much to focus on, but more likely because his vision was generally blurry. His head ached, and he realized that, fittingly, he could count out his racing pulse with every throb in his temples.
Okay, admittedly, he had been a little unprepared.
But he could prepare himself now. He knew about her safehouse and, even though it was very likely that she was abandoning it now, it should give him a good idea of the kinds of places she would stay in.
And, if he could get into one of her safehouses when she wasn’t there, then he could really prepare.
He moved to let himself out of the car so he could go in and inspect the place.
… it was a cop car. The backseat is reserved for criminals to be taken in, and couldn’t be unlocked from within for fear of a criminal jumping out during a red light. He kicked the door in frustration.
⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆
“How old are you?” Dick asked the next time he saw her at the precinct. It was a slow day, with only a few cops, none of whom were nearby, and only one ‘prisoner’, so no one paid any mind to their chatty coworker.
You could ask why he wasn’t trying to warn anyone, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good, and he still didn’t have anything that would stop her in her tracks, much less get rid of her for good.
As callous as it might have been, his current objective had shifted. He needed to make sure she didn’t go on a killing spree while he was on the job again. He couldn’t take her down if he was sitting behind bars for collusion.
So. Keep her talking.
“Why do you care? This isn’t Twilight, y’know, I’m not going to fight a werewolf for you,” she said, leaning against the bars.
“You know Twilight? You have to be young, then,” Dick said, a ghost of a smile dancing across his face at the small victory.
She gave a quiet laugh. “Every vampire knows Twilight, trust me. I swear, I may be killing people, but it’s just rude to ask if I sparkle in the sun when I’m trying to do it!”
He tried to imagine that, for just a moment, and a laugh bubbled out of him. “I see.”
“Ugh, if another edge lord tells me that they want me to turn them so they can be with their people or whatever, I’m going to step out into the sun.”
There was a moment of silence, and he could almost feel her hesitation, the words hanging in the air, waiting for her to acknowledge them.
“Twenty-six.”
“I mean, like… actually,” Dick groaned.
She snickered. “I’m serious. I was born twenty-six years ago, in Paris, to this lovely French couple. Humans, just so you don’t ask.”
He mulled this over. She was… twenty-six. At maximum, she had twenty-six years of being a vampire under her belt, and that was if she had been turned as a newborn. If her age of turning was her physical age, then he would guess that she had had maybe two or three years as a vampire.
She had been a human for… most of her life.
How would he feel if he had gone from human one day, to a bloodthirsty monster the next? How could he live, knowing that the only way to do so was to make a meal of other people?
He had the sinking feeling that he would react much the same as she had. Grab the worst people he could get access to, and chow down. Because the other option was to starve, and starving was one of the worst ways to go.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about that. “Humans?”
“Mhmm,” she said. “Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. They were great.”
Dick didn’t miss the use of were.
“How would they feel about their little girl going around killing people?”
She scoffed. “Well, I’d like to imagine that they would be glad I’m not dead, too.”
⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆
The vampire hummed as the door swung open. She glanced behind herself, making sure that she wasn’t being followed, and then swept a leg out to catch her cat before he could sneak past. She scooped him up by the scruff of his neck, giving the cat a tired look.
“Really?”
The cat, being a cat, meowed.
She meowed back. As all cat owners must.
She closed the door behind herself without even bothering to glance back, instead concentrating on making sure her cat didn’t wriggle away. But, finally, the risk was gone, and she set him down. Immediately, he took off in the direction of his food and water bowls, meowing loudly for sustenance, and she laughed lightly, making a move to follow...
Only to stop cold.
Her welcome mat had been turned around while she was out.
Now, most people wouldn’t notice. And, if they did, this would make them immediately wary of who was there and why they would do such a thing.
But Marinette wasn’t a ‘people’ at all, and her expression immediately twisted. She looked back at her door, and found the doorknob had been turned upside down.
Dick’s heart pounded in his chest, and he had to hope that she would just assume it belonged to her cat.
Whether or not she was fooled, she seemed to have bigger problems.
For, you see, he had done some research on vampires and their houses, and found very little that he could use. But in the footnotes of an article about classic vampire mansions (which didn’t apply in this dingy little apartment), he found a strange detail: that, when someone you knew turned into a vampire, you were supposed to flip the doorknob upside down so they couldn’t get back in. Vampires were creatures of habit, the article claimed, and this would confuse them so much that they would have no choice but to leave.
She didn’t look like she was all that confused, admittedly, but she wasn’t making any moves to attack, nor leave. She stood perfectly in the center of the mat, trapped.
“Fuck,” she breathed.
He breathed out a sigh of relief.
Her head jerked to look at him and, for once, he got to see her when she had been thrown out of her element. There was no smile on her face, just pure terror.
It… didn’t feel as good as it probably should.
“The welcome mat?” she said, sounding genuinely offended.
“Well, you vampires aren’t supposed to be able to get inside without being invited,” he argued, coming out from behind the counter. “It’s only fair that I change the mat.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I was invited. This is my house. You are the one who showed up uninvited.”
He decidedly ignored her in favor of pulling out his phone. Trembling fingers scrolled through tab after tab on vampires, until he came upon the one he wanted:
An exorcism.
For just a moment, he hesitated. And not just because the video warned that you had to be a priest to perform an exorcism.
No, it was because she looked so human at the moment, her eyes wide and her fingers bunched in the fabric of her dress, anxiety rolling off of her in waves. Dick had killed people before, it was a part of his job, sometimes he had to make tough choices… but shooting someone was far faster than any of the methods for killing vampires that he had been able to find. Shooting someone was a split-second decision, something that could haunt you but ultimately didn’t give you enough time to regret, to have that horrible second thought.
This was more.
And, though he hated to admit it, there was another, less virtuous reason.
It was also because of that purple liquid she had injected into him. It was… nice. A horrible part of him was dangerously aware of the fact that she was trapped here, would starve without his help, and that she would likely do anything he asked once she got hungry enough. He could get a constant buzz, at the cost of a murderer’s freedom.
At least this jail was nicer than the one she would have gotten were she human.
He shook his head to clear it.
If he didn’t do this now, it would only be harder to quit later on.
He clicked play on the Youtube video, and then repeated after the kindly priest, chanting, a cross held out.
She pressed back against the door and started sliding down, but not in horror or because she was weakening. She looked… bored.
“Hey, an important thing to know about vampires: Christianity doesn’t mean shit to us. Christians are just liars who saw scared townsfolk and decided that they could capitalize. ‘Hey, look, we conveniently have all of the solutions to your vampire problems’.”
Dick… didn’t know what to do about that. Most of the solutions he had found were Christian-based.
But perhaps she was lying.
⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆
She was not. Dick had tried everything. Silver to weaken her. Garlic. Holy water…
He had even had time to feed her cat!
He sat on her counter, among aged wine bottles filled with blood (she had gleefully explained to him that the alcohol stopped the blood from coagulating, which he had not needed to know), scrolling through the internet frantically for something that might work.
She glared at him, her face half-buried in her cat’s fur. Like he had done something wrong. Sure, he had gone into this fully expecting the exorcism to send her crumbling into ash, but she had been trying to drain people of their blood, so he thought that this was kind of fair game.
Still, he bristled. Offended and defensive. “What, was I just supposed to let you go on killing people?!”
“They were going to die anyways, were they not?” she argued.
“Not for several years!”
“That’s the problem,” she said, rolling her eyes. She stroked her cat’s fur, scratching it behind the ear, and the cat purred as it leaned into her. “They would have used those ‘several years’ to cause harm. Wouldn’t it be better this way?”
“They have families! Those people were innocent, and now –!”
“Their victims were innocent, too. So were the victims’ families. But you never see people talk about them.”
Dick… didn’t quite have a retort for that one.
He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “They’re bad people, okay? I agree. But you can take them down using the system, you don’t have to kill them.”
“How’s that been going for you?” She said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
Dick, once again, wasn’t sure.
“We have the same goal, sweetheart. I’m better at achieving it, obviously, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t work together. I can get all of the people you can’t get evidence on, you can get me schedules and stuff so I don’t accidentally incriminate you or anything. We could work.”
He shook his head. “I can’t let you do that.”
She sighed, tipping her head back to rest against the door. Her expression shuttered closed. “Then do me a favor and go through the actual process to kill me already.”
He perked up.
“Stab me through the heart with a wooden stake, use it to pin me to the earth until I stop moving, burn my body, and then scatter my ashes in a river so I can’t reform.”
“That’s…” Dick said, deflating.
“A lot. But still better than starving. So, prove you’re a good cop, do me a mercy.”
Dick hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. He could tell she was manipulating him, but to what end? Was she really so scared of starving that she would advocate for her own murder? Or was this all just her version of reverse psychology?
Damn, his head hurt.
It was still hurting from the pseudo-hangover the vampire venom had given him, but this certainly wasn’t helping.
He combed his fingers through his hair, thinking hard. “I’m not going to let you starve...”
She raised an eyebrow.
“What? Going to start body snatching from the morgue or something?”
He snorted a little, shaking his head. “No.” He walked across the small apartment and held his arm out, wrist bared. “You need blood. I have blood. Problem solved.”
“I’m not going to be your pet, I hope you know.”
His lips twitched into something of a wry grin. “I know.”
“I could drug you out of your mind. You wouldn’t even know your own name, much less that you need to run. I may not be able to leave here, but it would not be difficult to make sure that you reach the same fate.”
“I thought you weren’t a monster.”
She grinned, sharp teeth flashing in the light. “Treat me like one, and I will deliver. When I get out of here, I will tear you to shreds. And I will make sure you feel every second of it.”
“I knew the risks when I got this job.”
“Funny. All of your coworkers used to say the same thing.”
He offered her his hand again, and this time she took it.
Teeth sunk into his wrist, and this time it hurt.
#maribat#tag team tournament#ttt#spandex flex#dickinette#i deeeeefinitely intended it to endt his way#carpal tunnel is not affecting my fics in any way#there is no extra arc#there is no war in ba sing se#dick grayson#marinette dupain cheng#ladybug#nightwing#i hate that dick is canonically a cop#but also. i can use it for acab so
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END the copaganda that not giving your DNA to your cops makes you more suspicious.
END the copaganda that if you don't tell your side of the story to a cop you're going to be arrested.
END the copaganda that not allowing the cops into your home without a warrant is criminal behavior.
END the copaganda that not allowing cops to interrogate you without an attorney present is inherently more suspicious.
END the copaganda that if you don't speak to a cop that stops you on the street, you are breaking a law.
this is all bullshit and it is framed in a way that destroys your constitutional right to be protected from unreasonable intrusions into your life and into your home. it is a way for cops and the law enforcement system to intrude on your privacy in ways they are legally not allowed to, by making YOU feel like YOU will be seen as a bad guy for standing up for your rights.*
demand to see a warrant. if they stop you on the street, ask if you're being detained and if so, why. do not speak to cops without your attorney present. that is WHY miranda rights exist. you are ALLOWED to keep your mouth shut.
*ALL of this is stuff that will be more dangerous to do if you are black or brown or visibly trans or queer or disabled. if at ANY POINT you feel that you are going to be at risk of harm for doing these things, you are NOT at fault for complying. your rights are important but they are not more important than preserving your life. stay safe out there y'all.
#this post is also very heavily focused on US experiences and US copaganda but i'm a defense attorney in the US so y'know#that's what i know#copaganda#ACAB#constitutional rights#shit like this is why i can barely watch true crime and why i refuse to watch cop shows anymore#it's just. all over and it makes me so angry#shut up alix no one cares#sometimes alix goes viral
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tag vent
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#i have to move back to my hometown due to a mistake. a misunderstanding. and being too trusting in others ideas#and my boyfriend is moving an hour away as well. neither of us have been able to get a car or license yet due to money and i dont know when#we can see eachother again after we both move. since we started dating weve been sleeping in the same bed because we were/are roommates#just being gone for the weekend in my hometown is hard because i cant stand to be here but its worse because hes not in my bed every night#ive grown so used to falling alseep in his arms that i dont know what to do at night. i dont feel safe without his arms holding me#ive never felt safe where ive lived before. ive never felt safe in a relationship. ive never felt loved for who i am. that was until him.#now i feel safe in our home. i feel safe in our relationship. i feel loved for who i am. and now we have to be so far apart.#ive done long distance before but this is going to hurt so much my cat loves him she is super cautious and scared around new people but#she loved him since the start. not to mention shes my esa so that really mattered to me. he wants to move with me but it isnt happening#he got definite housing an hour away for super cheap in a town where he knows everyone and i have possible in a town where im surrounded by#people i know but am terrified of. im scared to move back here but have no choice. unless i make that terrifying choice of going with him.#the apartment he is getting is a two bedroom. id only have a studio. hes offered for me to come but im scared to move that far away again#i want to be with him but im scared to move to a whole new town with him. i know hes an amazing guy but we'd be moving away from my friends#and family. i already have to move away from all my friends if i go back to my hometown but this would be a different story.#moving to a whole new town with a guy that i only started dating 2 months ago? like yes. i lived with him previously and knew him for longer#than we dated but im still scared. i think rightfully so. but still.#but there are some pros to moving with him. hometown has no music scene and his town does and thats really important to me.#we'd also be close to his family. but farther from mine. hed be around friends and id have none no matter where i go.#idk im just rambling but i really needed to vent. i lost my best friend recently to the point of them siding with strangers almost and they#helped them break and enter into the house to intimidate me and bf and then a few days later came with cops after saying repeatedly that#they were an anarchist and acab but only when they dont use them apparently. because i guess morals/values only matter when its convenient#im so tired though but i cant sleep so i might write some cringe poetry and try to chill out before going on a late night/early morning walk#tag vent#vent in tags
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My neighbor tanner called the cops and is filing an insurance claim about this white scratch on his car
#val.txt#Val.jpeg#I just need to show everyone because it’s so funny#when the cop came I said sorry he’s wasting ur time w this his names tanner and he owns a bmw so u know the type#and she went. mmm.#also acab but in this situation I was kissing some ass#yeah also#names tanner#owns a bmw#his gf used to be my friends friend. no one can be around her since she started dating this guy because he’s a real pos#he bought a gun and brought it into the house without telling my friend who lived there at the time#lost it on her when she got mad#is constantly screaming at his gf#I’m p sure unemployed because he’s ALWAYS home#literally. stalks me through his ring doorbells like he watches me on them#I have confirmation on this#his gf got a cat and knowingly let it give my friends cat giardia#her and tanner would then leave for days without telling my friend without doing anything to take care of the cat#she always did it because she cares about the cat duh#the gf moved him in without asking#the cat would shit all over and they wouldn’t clean it. leaving my friend to either live in filth or clean it#he did not pay rent. refused to. my friend like begged and he didn’t#then bought a bmw#me parking in our lot has been an issue because no matter how I park he says there isn’t space and he should be able to park diagonal#he said it’s because he knew I was gonna hit his car#this is me hitting his car#anyway#I just need to shoe everyone because YOU CALLED THE COPS FOR THIS???#bad neighbors
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i dreamt about mulder and scully last night, which would already be funny, but I. have never watched x-files. thank you fandom. thank you tumblr
#*mine#mona rambles#we had a really weird love triangle going on while something was trying to kill us#and mr bennet was smoking in a room next to us#at some point we were throwing fireworks at cops and then they abandoned me and i got taken in for questioning#so instead of answering anything i took out my phone and called mr bennet because apparently he was my lawyer??? yea#the cops were REALLY mad about that one but i do think it's funny that even asleep my brain's like. acab baby lmao#the love triangle got solved by alcohol and poly btw so i guess you could call this a win after all also#there's frankly a specific genre of dreams that comes from nightshifts where you can lightly nap in intervals#because your body Knows and you don't really drift into deep sleep anymore#but you dream THEE weirdest stuff bless
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but what abt Lin
We like her because Hot Older Woman is Hot
We do not respect her because ACAB
#for the record I’m mostly joking here#I do like her as a character and find her relationship with her family and the Krew very interesting#she’d probably count among some of my favourite characters. after the RL and Kuvira and Korrasami. of course#and she probably did something to 12 yo Nia’s baby queer brain#but six months ago I was blasted with a full force aroace beam to the face so that barely matters anymore#and also#as the bitter and lonely older sister with a long kept grudge. if I said I didn’t like her I’d be a hypocrite#however. the third eyed freak comment is very 😬#and in general she has been shown to use (or attempt to use) her power as police chief one anyone who has slighted her even a little#therefore. ACAB#idk if this makes sense. I’m slightly feverish again#and when I’m sick I go both incorehent and balls to the wall insane#well. what can you do#:’)#not gonna put this in any tags in case someone decides to come at me or smth
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Respectfully if you are on a train and take up a table seat and don’t even use it I am eating your phone
#there’s only so many table seats on the commuter railAUGH#4-6 per car it’s a shared table#I get it if the train is full or if it’s super empty and you want a place for your elbows#but if I’m going 45 minutes all the way to the end of the line and you’re only 15 minutes from your stop#and you deprive me of my ability to use my laptop to get some work done before my aderall gives out and I pass the fuxk out#i am eating your phone#biteing it straight from your hand#I will grind the glass into dust with the strength of my jaw#also fuck you to whoever lied on the schedule claiming that it’s very empty#this is not very empty it’s one degree below max capacity#and who the hell keeps deciding to close off whole ass cars#is there something wrong with the car?? do you not have someone to monitor it???#I can see the damn thing is empty let me IN!!!!!!#what’s the point of taxes when the trains still suck#we pay police so damn much why don’t they run the fucking trains#yada yada defund the police acab and all that#I’m so tired ur honor
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As a Black woman, I feel the same way about women hating men. Women hate men because men have the power to abuse, rape, kill, assault, objectify, dehumanize, and degrade us at leisure, and have done so for centuries, with society allowing and even actively encouraging their behavior. Men hate women for not putting up with and allowing them to do those things, now that misogyny is becoming more frowned upon in recent years(though not by much, as it is still very much prevalent, as you can clearly see). So yes, I hate men on sight, and will continue to do so, until they fix up their atrocious behavior towards us women, and prove to me and every other woman out their that they are worthy of our time, attention, and respect.
#i hate men#sexism#misogyny#racism#anti-blackness#misogynoir#acab#i was having this talk with a friend today#about how most men are at ease with the patriarchy and are upset with women for wanting to upset the misogynistic status quo by claiming#that we’re being mean to men and basically gaslighting women into currying favor from men in order to be taken seriously as feminists and#for their feminism to still be palatable to men#when no currying sympathy from your oppressors(both white and male) will get you nowhere#most men are just upset that women are fighting for their rights and decentering them and not coddling them because they want to be able to#benefit from abusing us#when they tell us that feminism doesn’t have to be about hating men what they’re actually saying is that ‘ladies you can fight for your#rights but do so in a way that doesn’t offend your oppressors’ and it’s sad to see some feminists fall for this idea because they’re afraid#of being ‘too woke’ and hurting men’s feelings#i also like that in this scene they used a black woman for it because too often black men are treated as the face of the black experience#and i’m tired of THAT too!
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Discworld is an interesting beast in the age of ACAB. Like, the city watch books are a story about police and the way in which a good police force can help and protect people. Which would make it copoganda. And I'm not going to say that the City Watch books are completely free of copoganda, but they also do something interesting that fairly few stories about heroic police officers do, and I think it has a lot to do with Samuel Vimes. A lot of copoganda stories like, say, Brooklyn 99, are perfectly capable of portraying cops as cruel, bigoted, and greedy, but our central cast of characters are portrayed as good people who want to help their communities. The result is that the bad cops are portrayed as an aberration, while most cops can be assumed to be good people doing a tough job because they want to help protect people from the nebulous evil forces of "Crime". The police are considered to be naturally heroic. Pratchett does something very interesting, which is provide us with Vimes' perspective, and present us with an Unnaturally heroic police force. In Ahnk-Morpork, the natural state of the watch is a gang with extra paperwork. It's the place for people who, at best, just want a steady paycheck and at worst want an excuse to hit people with a truncheon. Rather than be an army defending people from the forces of Crime, the Watch is described as a sort of sleight-of-hand, big burly watchmen in shiny uniforms don't stand around in-case a Crime happens in their vicinity, they stand around to remind people that The Law exists and has teeth. The Watchmen are people, when danger rears it's head, their instinct is to hide and get out of the way. When faced with authority, their instinct is to bow to it out of fear of what it might do to them if they don't. Carrot is a genuine Hero, but his natural heroism is presented as an aberration. Normal Cops don't act like Carrot does. The fact that the Watch ends up acting like a Heroic Police Force is largely due to the leadership of Sam Vimes, but Vimes himself is a microcosm of the Watch. The base state of Sam Vimes would be an alchoholic bully of an officer, one who beats people until they confess to anything because that makes his job easier. Vimes The Hero is a homunculous, an artificial being created by Sam Vimes fighting back all those instincts and FORCING himself to behave as his conscience dictates. Vimes doesn't take bribes or let his officers do the same because, damnit, that sort of thing shouldn't happen, even if doing so would make things a lot easier. Vimes doesn't run towards sounds of screaming because he WANTS to, he forces himself to do so because somebody needs to. It's best summed up in Thud “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Your Grace.” “I know that one,” said Vimes. “Who watches the watchmen? Me, Mr. Pessimal.” “Ah, but who watches you, Your Grace?” said the inspector with a brief little smile. “I do that, too. All the time,” said Vimes. “Believe me.”
In the hands of another writer, or another series, this exchange would be weirdly dismissive. To whom should the police be accountable to? Themselves, shut up and trust us. But from Vimes, it's a different story. Vimes DOES constantly watch himself, and he doesn't trust that bastard, he's known him his entire life. The Heroic Police are not a natural state, they're an ideal, and ahnk-morpork only gets anywhere close. Vimes is constantly struggling against his own instincts to take shortcuts, to let things slide, but he forces himself to live up to that ideal and the Watch follows his example. Discworld doesn't propose any solutions to the problems with policing in the real world. We don't have a Sam Vimes to run the NYPD and force them to behave. We don't have a Carrot Ironfounderson. But it's at least a story about detectives and police that I can read without feeling like I'm being sold propaganda about the Thin Blue Line.
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I'm all for acab and I'm also generally wary of security guards just for being the way most of them are (stalking my also native younger sister) but the fact is that's not every guard. We've had some very helpful ones help us out too when we were being harassed in places. Like it's not an every guard situation the same way it is an every cop situation solely because of cops' power advantage.
The truth is we *need* people to question people in positions of authority. I don't want to live in a world where people with power over others are free to throw their weight around with impunity- scrutiny is GOOD. Suspicion is GOOD.
I encourage questioning my motives, my 'authority', such as it is, for the same reason I encourage guards wearing body cams and observers filming me- because while *I* know I can be trusted not to abuse my position, nobody else does.
I don't feel the need to defend myself from accusations that have no basis in truth, because I can be 100% confident that there will be no false convictions- there will be no evidence of wrongdoing because I'm not doing anything wrong.
I treat everyone I deal with with respect. I don't make threats. I don't touch anyone, for any reason, except with consent to offer aid. You won't catch me flipping people off because I don't do that. You won't post a video of me using a chokehold on a guy because I don't do that.
But you don't know that, so play it safe. Film. Record. I hope you catch my coworkers pulling shit, cause if they're abusing their position then they shouldn't be here and I'll be happy to watch them get canned.
Always scrutinize positions of influence and power. Always. You gotta
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See, this is why no one invites Doctor Fate to parties.
sigmund freud? in my 1998 young justice? it’s more likely than you think!
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#batfam#this is stupid writing XD#a person cannot be one of those three things the whole idea is that we are all of us all three and also Freud is mostly bullshit#so if a character is able to apply those archetypes to the people around them then that implies on some level that they know they are not#people but characters. which is distracting and breaks suspension of disbelief. maybe that's the point of doctor fate?#I don't know anything about him#like don't get me wrong it's pretty solid literary analysis but you're not supposed to put that in the literature itself lol#don't hand-hold me I can get there myself. you can even have another character mention these concepts so it's on the reader's brains#but like there's a reason that Jean Valjean doesn't turn to the camera at some point and explain that he represents the light of#human kindness and that Javert represents the ACAB failings of a corrupt legal system. there's a reason he doesn't do that.#anyway it's not like this post is sharing an example of something harmful or morally wrong!#I just think it's funny to have a character openly state what partial metaphor each of the other characters are#original#young justice#teen titans#the outlaws#when the writer doesn't trust his audience so he needs to explain every metaphor he's doing#edit: i have been informed this is red tornado. he is still not invited to my pool party. which will happen as soon as i have a pool...
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THE BATTLE JACKET MASTERPOST
FINALLY PUNKS IT'S HERE
a battle jacket (also called battle vest, cut-off, punk jacket, patch jacket, and probably other stuff) is a jacket (duh) usually made from denim or leather with DIY additions of patches, studs, flags, painted panels, chains, and other bonuses, used to signify subculture. Punk, metal, and biker scenes all use patch jackets, but I'll only go into specifics about how they're used in the punk scene. Metalheads, I think, almost solely personalise with music/band shit. Bikers use them to signifying which club you're riding with. Punks started using them in the 70s and they've remained a staple of the subculture's style since. They're good for signalling your politics, bands you like, and other information you might want to get across. They also look cool.
HOW TO START
If you're here I assume you wanna learn how to make your own so I'll cut the history lesson short and get on to the practicals.
1: first you're going to want to get a plain jacket, probably denim or leather, but you could get a canvas jacket if you're nervous and new to the scene because it's way easier to stitch canvas, so you could experiment with that as you're building confidence. The jacket should be at least a bit oversized because with all the stitching and painting or whatever you'll be doing, you could run into fit issues with a very form fitting jacket. also, this jacket might frequently be worn over other jackets or layers so that will help with that too
2: start making choices. namely whether you want to keep the sleeves. obviously you can remove or reattatch the sleeves later but I think making that big mod first is a good starting point to help you feel like it's a work in progress. so if you're going to chop the sleeves I say do it now
3: brainstorm. I know, I know, coming up with your own ideas is hard, but this is your own totally literally unique piece, so think about what sorta look you want
4: you don't have to brainstorm alone though. search tumblr or pinterest for punk jackets, punk patches, punk clothes ect for inspiration. you might get a good idea for an individual patch, or for a broader layout
PATCHES
1: the big deal. this is what will make your jacket into a battle jacket. there are some unofficial rules/sayings in the scene about what sort of patches you should put on your jacket. some people get dickish sometimes about if you put a non-punk band on your jacket? however i think that is bollocks and you should do whatever you want forever. one saying i do personally mostly stick to is "politics up front, bands on the back" with the idea you stick your politics on your front so you can see the punches coming
2: where do you get the patches? you make them yourself. You can buy ofc but don't get shit off amazon or shein or whatever the fuck. If your fav band or small artist is selling patches go for it though. You will have the most choice if you make your own patches. Do you have scrap fabric (maybe the sleeves of the jacket, which is where i got a lot of my patch material)? Do you have paint and paintbrush? good. you can make a patch
3: how do you do that? well depends on whether you stencil or freehand. stencil means you cut out an outline, of say a band logo, out of card, and use that as a stencil. freehand means you paint whatever tf you like
4: paint?? yes paint. messy as you like. start maybe with simple slogans or symbols often found in the punk scene like "ACAB" or "eat the rich". maybe an anarchy symbol. i also like to paint a layer of mod podge over my designs to waterproof them.
5: great, you've got a patch, what are you going to do with it? sew it onto the jacket. unless ofc you bought an iron-on in step 2, in which case iron that shit on and be careful punks. most likely though, you're sewing it on. a lot of punks use tooth floss to sew on because its cheaper, easier to find, readily waxed and waterproof, and does a better job sewing shit down onto heavy duty material like leather or denim. I use a combined running stitch and whip stitch personally
STUDS n SPIKES
1: all those punks you've seen have metal sticking out their jacket eh? yeah, theres a whole lot of options here. spikes of many different sizes and shapes, which within that can be stitch on, screwback, or have fold down prongs on the back of them
2: where do you put them? probably the front or top of the jacket. you can put them on the back but that might be uncomfortable, or rip up someone's upholstery
3: where do you get them? you can still DIY these by cutting up a metal drinks can [whole other post] but BE CAREFUL. i suggest checking out the internet for these, same buying rules as patches though. no shein. no amazon.
OTHER SHIT??
1: go wild
2: other common additions would be chains, lighter caps, badges, and can tabs
HAVE FUN PLS ASK ME QUESTIONS AND SHARE IF YOU START A BATTLE JACKET
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You talk about getting rid of the psychiatric system. But what do you propose should be done instead? /gen
I'm going to tell you a story . I once knew someone called Tim. When I met him he had already spent most of his life in drug addiction treatment centres, psych wards and prisons until he later ended up in a forensic psych ward. After he did LSD he 'never came down from his bad trip' and got diagnosed w schizophrenia. This diagnosis +the addict - diagnosis justified so many fucking human rights violations - it got him locked up, drugged up, strip searched, his privacy violated on a daily basis, isolated away from society and everyone he knew because apparently he needed to be 'saved from this illness in his brain that makes him do/think/feel' things he otherwise wouldnt and because he needed to be 'punished' into being a 'functioning', 'productive' (read: profit-generating) member of 'society' (read: hegemonic cultural norms & forms.) This is what psychiatry does - it doesnt help, it locks us up and tortures us. I dont need to be able to name alternatives to this lol . This is the worst possible way of treating anyone ever. It would help immensely to literally just STOP doing this. Even 'sane' people would go insane in places like these.
So the alternative to acting like an absolute asshole towards people who struggle severely and who dont have a place in society would be to 1)not isolate them away from society and 2)not torture them 🙏 . It would be to get rid off the psychologists' individual and the psychiatric systems' general saviour complex that only results in abusing people bc they act like the people who are labelled as mentally ill are (=their minds/brains) responsible for at fault for their own struggles. Instead we could show solidarity with each other and try to built a world where everyone has a place in and is valued as a person and where the suffering/madness of an individual is not seen as an incentive to literally abuse and socially ostracize them.
And @ everyone dont come at me w 'not everyone has these experiences w psychiatry' - any time you talk about systemic criticism you have to look at the most marginalized experiences. When talking about police defunding/prison abolition we also talk about police brutality that black disabled poor people face . And yes not everyone has bad experiences w every single cop , still ACAB . ALSO dont come at me with 'I know there ar GOOD psychologists who Actually want to help' ,1) fuck their savior complex 2)what individuals motives are for joining this system of oppression isnt necessarily the purpose of a system. The purpose of a system is what it does. The police isnt there to protect us, psychiatry isnt there to help us. We only have each other.
So, what you can do right now to get rid off the psychiatric system in your community? How can we stop relying on this authoritarian system that abuses and incarcerates so many of us ??
I think its important to educate each other on our rights. Because then we have the knowledge on what not to say in a therapy session so we dont get incarcerated or what to do when we are questioned by cops/psychs to see if we are 'at risk' or what to do when we or friends of us are already incarcerated so they can get out of there as fast as possible. Also educating your friends/family on psychiatric propaganda helps - a common myth is that if you dont 'look for signs' and call the cops to institutionalize a friend they might kill themselves. All while institutionalization/incarceration increases the risk of suicide extremely. This is important to know so no one in our communities calls the cops on us when we're doing really bad. Also educating each other on the biomedical model so everyone understands that we dont have an illness that we need to be 'saved from' (depression for example) or 'punished for' (aspd, drug addiction) and that we (=our minds/brains) arent to blame for our struggles Etc.
If you know that youre sometimes in extreme mental distress/pain you could also make a crisis plan with friends so you dont need to rely on the psych system - like for example the plan could be that a friend calls in sick for work/university and then stays at your place for 3-4days and is there for you/drinks tea w you, goes for a walk together w you, smokes a joint with you together until you feel better and arent acutely suicidal anymore. (Its also best to include several people in this plan bc it can get really overwhelming for 1 person). You can als include things in the plan like asking your friends to take away all knives in your apartment if you want to. Or if its a more permanent 'crisis' then a plan on how to move together with friends to get away from your nuclear family/abusive partner (just as an example).
Access to medication, knowledge on how to get off of them if you dont want to take them anymore and freedom and proper education in your decision on taking, weaning off or on staying on medication is not given in the psych system. So how do we change that? A common reason for 'crisis' is trying to wean off of psychiatric drugs (a lot of people get suicidal or psychotic bc of the withdrawal for example - depends on the meds, dosis and since how long youve been taking them though). You could plan when to do this together w friends. Theres anti psych guidelines on how to do this safely - a lot of psychiatrists tell you that you need to stay on meds no matter if you want to or not and they often dont know how to wean off of them or think youre 'at risk' and incarcerate you if you mention that you want to stop taking your meds -this highly depends on how stigmatizing your diagnosis is (=schizophrenia/bipolar are good examples for highly stigmatized ones) or if youre sb who get racialized for example (bc then psychs immediatly perceive you as more of 'a risk'). You could make a plan for example where you ask your friends to stay w you through this by living at your apartment w you for a few days, cooking meals for you and keeping your apartment clean. And then another friend of you could come by each day after work (for example) and also be there since its probably a lot for one person. Also LYING to psychiatrists is always a good idea. For example when youre trans and want to access gender affirming care its important not to mention any diagnoses in general but especially diagnoses like autism, schizophrenia, psychosis or PDs and then literally lie about yourself if necessary. You always know who you are and what you need best. Also dont blindly trust your psych on what medications go well together - look it up yourself !!! Theres a 'drug interaction checker' online where you can see if it might be dangerous to take certain meds at the same time. Also READ on what side effects are possible - make a diary for when you start your medication on how youre feeling/doing . Some changes are awful but still hard to notice bc youre thinking that it could also be a 'normal' worsening of your mental state that you think you might also have without meds. Also depending on what physical conditions you have/had you cant take some medications without it being dangerous - READ the whole instruction paper thing that always comes with your meds and/or google it !!
Also literally just sharing/collecting tips on how to cope w different struggles + harm reduction guides (suicidality, drug addiction, ...) is very helpful. There is a lot of community sourced material already out there.
I understand that the reason most people are severely struggling is because they dont have a community (=like when you only have 1 partner or 1 friend ,because youre (still) legal property of your parents, because youre stuck in a nuclear family,...) and not only because psychiatry divides our communities by blaming us for our struggles and isolating and stigmatizing us. Building community and relying on each other is the only way to get rid off the psychiatric system in the end. If we already had a real community that we could rely on, all the psych wards would be empty and therapists wouldnt exist. This is not the first step, its the solution.
Als there are already alternative institutions (that are already in practice) that are a replacement for psychiatry.
This is probably the answer that youre looking for 😂. I dont really care about these kind of anti psych concepts and practices since they seem out of my reach atm. Ik that theres an anti psych house in berlin whos guiding principles are 1)community care /peer support 2)full autonomy for everyone there and its specifically for people who are running away from psychiatric violence.
Other alternatives that I havent really looked into yet are : bethel house , peer respites, new models of therapy
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Whenever I get a particularly nasty message, I always check to see if they're following me first. Nine times out of ten, they're not. But they're also, unfortunately, the same people who feel entitled to send me multiple messages in a row, most of them heavily steeped in the language of moralization and purity.
Like whenever I talk about painkillers or pain management, I always get a handful of well-meaning people who are maybe new to my blog or are just young, asking me if I've tried diet/exercise/meditation, etc.
Sometimes I'll respond to them. Other times I'll just ignore them because I get those kinds of messages so often it's like white noise, and maybe part of me hopes if they stick around on my blog, they'll learn it through exposure via my incessant bitching.
When you see me responding to someone offering that kind of advice, it's either because I'm at my fucking limit or because I'm hoping it's a teachable moment and an otherwise seemingly nice person might unlearn some harmful biases.
The people who don't follow me are not interested in any kind of conversation on the subject. They do, however, feel the most qualified to tell me, someone they didn't know existed until one of my posts crossed their dash, how to manage my life, everything I'm doing wrong, and why I'm a bad person.
And for them, my disability is proof that I am a bad person because they view health as a moral issue.
If you're sick, it's because you don't exercise enough, don't eat the right foods, don't pray enough, don't do enough. They genuinely believe that if they say and do all the right things, like a Good Person, they'll never get sick.
It's their security blanket against the harsh reality that anyone is one bad day away from disability. One faulty gene, one bad infection, one bad accident away from a life-long diagnosis. And if they do get sick, it's a test. A challenge to be overcome with Willpower as they learn the True Meaning of Life.
It can never just be a simple fact of life that sickness happens. That disability exists without a moral reason.
And it's suffocating.
Day in, day out. Folks who don't know me from fucking Eve telling me I'm being punished. Not always as outright as that. They don't always use that word. But sometimes I appreciate it when they do because at least then they're being honest. They're not couching it in the softer language of leftist circles. Not hiding it behind concern.
Because the truth is, there are just as many folks who think they're liberal and enlightened who'd be happy if disabled people just stopped existing. They don't like thinking about us because it makes them think about themselves. About their own fragility and mortality, and they hate that. They hate that there's something they can't control with their thoughts and actions. That they can't moralize their way out of.
Honestly, it's a relief when people are just cunts about it because I can hit the block button, safe in the knowledge that they were never the kind of person who would see me as a person. But when it's some 20yo kid with their pronouns, orientation, and "ACAB" in their profile spouting the same kind of moralization, sometimes even with the language of eugenics, it feels like such a betrayal. Like a loss.
And perhaps if I wasn't multiply disabled, I'd have the energy to pull them back. To tell them why they're wrong and hope like hell they realize what they're doing is harmful. But then, if I wasn't disabled, they wouldn't be messaging me, so I wouldn't be dealing with it.
I wouldn't be expected to use my existence as a teachable moment to spoon-feed them compassion. But I am, and I do. When I can. Not always with the grace that's warranted. Not always with the thought and compassion I ought to. (And I don't; I acknowledge that. I'm prone to anger and off-the-cuff remarks that are hurtful too. Though I try to keep most of it to myself or save it for therapy.)
Basically, if you've made it this far through the TED talk, don't be fucking cunts to disabled people. Don't tell chronically ill people to try yoga. Don't moralize pain relief. Suffering is not noble.
You need to kill the cop and the priest in your head telling you otherwise.
And also if you're the nice people sending me nice messages. Thank you. It helps cushion all of *gestures* this.
#chronic health tag#long post#ableism#thanks for coming to this huge rant I'll probably delete later#also sincerely#thank you to everyone who does send nice messages#you are the majority#it's just that the assholes are louder
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More on Lanterns and Marvel
See original post here: https://www.tumblr.com/moonlightcycle571/765612915343704064/lantern-corps-and-a-10-year-old-child-in-a-last
I talked about the Lantern list (a ranking of people who to this day refuse lantern offers) and having Billy Batson be number 1, and have Captain Marvel be number 2.
This would naturally attract the attention of Lantern Cores everywhere (like what do you mean they received offers from multiple lanterns multiple times), the space community (why does the Terra City of Fawcette have dominating spots) as well as the JL (Cap, why are you outclassed by a civilian from your own city).
I also fully believe Lois Lane is on the same boat as Billy Batson when it comes to Lantern offers. One does not jump off buildings or sneak into war zones without a great deal of will power and induce a great deal of fear. Lois Lane is definitely in the top 10.
Coincidentally, in the top 50, you will find Cat Grant, Vic Sage and surprisingly Vicki Vale (if she can make BATMAN shudder and be wary of her, she can make anyone fear her).
So it’s been accepted that journalists have a lot of will power, a lot of rage and can put the fear of god into you. Clark is not bitter that he’s not on the list, no sire. Never mind that Jimmy Olsen is in the Top 100.
Batman might want to study this phenomenon.
But anyways. One does not stay at the top without ridiculous numbers. As the only top 10 ers on earth, they have grown used to random rings trying to get them on space politics quests or whatnot.
So now imagine this: Lois Lane and Billy collab on a project. While they are speaking, random rings start to show up. Instinctively, both swat them away like flies while maintaining eye contact. They don’t realise what they are doing. Clark is having an aneurism.
At some point, they both realise that the other is swatting the rings away with the same nonchalance as the other. They immediately understand what’s up. The shit eating grin they both had made a bunch of yellow rings swarm around them.
Billy gets asked on why he doesn’t want to join the Green lanterns? Billy says it’s because he hates cops. Lois nods.
Hal cries himself to sleep that night.
Bonus:
Batman stalking a civilian named Batson who for some reason is number one in the Lanterns List, with an alarming amount of yellows.
Batman finds a black hair, blue eyes, orphan child.
Batman: Alfred call the guy
Bonus 2:
Nightwing, trying to meet his future maybe brother: Hi 👋
Billy, sees an authority figure in Blue that wields batons and electricity: …
Billy immediately kicks Nightwing while yelling ACAB
Billy runs away
Nightwing cries himself to sleep that night.
#billy batson#shazam#dc captain marvel#dc#hal would cry#Dick would cry#Hal Jordan#Dick Grayson#Batman#he’s trying to adopt this ‘scary’ orphan child#Billy is wondering about stranger danger protocols when homeless#Lanterns Ranking List#Lois Lane#she’s a queen and I love her#she would milk this so hard#Billy and Lois are terrifying together#the daily planet is unsure if they want to hire Billy for themselves or keep him far away from Metropolis specifically Lois#Clark Kent#he’s bitter he’s not on the list#he wants the journalist cred#People all over the galaxies are wondering what the fuck is up with Fawcette#why are there so many kids with lantern offers
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I get whiplash from alternating between Veilguard and Disco Elysium, let me tell you, and I don't think two games, both alike in the genre tag “RPG”, could be more different if they tried. Veilguard’s intro: It’s super important that we stop Solas, the ELVEN GOD OF LIES from drowning the world in demons! Hey, let’s go down here to the right, yes that will help us stop Solas, the ELVEN GOD OF LIES, from drowning the world in demons, which would be bad. Good Rook, you’re such a great hero for saving the day with that ritual interruptus, otherwise Solas, the ELVEN GOD OF LIES, would surely have drowned the world in demons. Let's make a TEAM, Rook! A team to bring down the ELVEN GODS that escaped when you interrupted Solas, the ELVEN GOD OF LIES', ritual before. Disco Elysium’s intro: You wake up in your own piss. God, you’re a loser. There’s been a murder. Apparently you’re a cop? ACAB, you sad fucker. You’re also a raging alcoholic. Nothing that you think in that boozed-out brain of yours can be trusted. Good luck solving this. LOL. Here, have a plastic bag, a flashlight and a partner. Harry: Why am I such a broken wreck? Let me ruminate on communism and women and self-hatred for a while, hang on. Ok, I'm back. Let's do drugs, kids! Or not! Why do I want to kill myself? Why are people so miserable? Why am I so miserable? Ooh, maybe I am a socialist revolutionary hero with amnesia! Why does my own mind want to break me even further? Why does it hurt to talk to you? Rook: THERE'S NO 'I' IN TEAM, TEAM, LESSGO!
#lilith plays disco elysium#lilith plays veilguard#veilguard critical#i guess but also mostly truths
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