#don't take this post too seriously. i don't live in a swing state so i'm allowed to have fun with it

[butchfriend]

going to enrage every political ideologue simultaneously by voting for cornel west as first choice ("throwing away" my vote, pissing off the liberals), kamala second choice (making me complicit in genocide somehow, pissing off the online leftists), and pissing off the anarchists by voting at all

[faketrex]

a police station in a foreign country for the setting prompts if you're still taking them <3

Thank you, grace! 💝 For prompt number 13, "a police station in a foreign country."

RWRB, firstprince, featuring Henry throwing a punch, Alex scheming, and a fair amount of silliness. Post-canon, pre-bonus chapter.

...

“You can't punch him, you're a prince of fucking England,” Alex hisses.

It pains him to say it, obviously. The asshole standing in front of them has a punchable face–and extremely punch-worthy homophobic, xenophobic, racist opinions. It's not the first time they've had to just stand and listen to this kind of crap, but it never gets any easier.

Hell, Alex might take a swing himself if he didn't know for a fact that it would get him ushered out of England kicking and screaming, cursed to a life of long-distance love, groveling to his mom, and praying that one day, someday, Henry might escape the clutches of the monarchy and join him in the U.S. and–

“A prince,” Henry says mildly, in a tone that Alex has only heard once before, “me? You must be mistaken.”

And he hauls back his fist.

“Fucking–Henry!”

It's a solid punch.

☆☆☆

The less said about the next few hours, the better.

It doesn't really matter that Henry's a prince and Alex is the First Son of the United States. Or, well, it does, but only in the sense that when they're sitting in the police station, butts going numb in uncomfortable plastic chairs, they've got a whole entourage with them. There are three PPOs and two Secret Service officers, and the way Zahra keeps blowing up Alex's phone, she probably counts as present, too.

The chair he's sitting in squeaks obnoxiously when Alex leans over to whisper to Henry. “You know, if we had one more person on our side, we'd be a baseball team.”

“More's the pity that we're in England, not America, I suppose.”

“I don't know. If you were dead set on punching a fuckhead in the face, I think it's good you did it in England. I mean, your family must own all the dungeons here, right? When they lock you away, it'll be like home sweet home.”

Henry lets out a huff. “You realize we're not actually living in the Middle Ages, don't you?”

“Fuck that. If cops today could still use the rack, they would, in a heartbeat. And you can quote me on–”

Two chairs down, Amy clears her throat loudly.

“I mean,” Alex backpedals, “I mean. I sure do love sitting here quietly in a foreign police station and not stirring up shit.”

“Don't we all,” Henry sighs, rubbing at his bruised knuckles.

☆☆☆

The asshole guy–the punchee–says he won't press charges, to which the royal family replies that it will graciously agree to the same. It's a weird response that Alex isn't thinking too hard about tonight. Yeah, the guy had been a shithead, but Henry had been the one to throw hands. Technically, Henry's at fault here, unless–

“Are you like a swan?”

Henry has a cold, wet washcloth covering his face, but his confusion is audible through the fabric. “Pardon?”

“Like, if someone touches the Queen's swans, they're guilty, probably even if the swans were trying to fucking beak them or whatever. So I thought–”

“Alex–”

“Is it the same with you?” Alex twists sideways on the couch, watching as Henry peels the washcloth off his face. “Do you have honorary swan status?”

“I know how you feel about large birds, Alex.”

“This isn't about that!”

“No, I do not have ‘honorary swan status,’” Henry says. “I'm just one of the latest in a long line of unnecessary archaic figureheads who can behave badly and, it seems, get away with it.”

“That dick fucking deserved it.”

“Nevertheless.”

“Where'd you learn to punch like that? Dueling classes at Eton?”

“Boxing club at Oxford, actually.”

“No way. Seriously?”

“I had a crush on an instructor.” Even though he looks exhausted, one corner of Henry's mouth lifts upward. “If I recall correctly, I trained for three or four months before dropping it as a lost cause.”

“Punching people wasn't your cup of tea, huh?”

“Despite appearances otherwise today, no. And anyway, the instructor was hopelessly straight.”

“Lucky for you, I'm not,” Alex says, leaning in to kiss him.

When they break apart, Henry seems sheepish. “I still shouldn't have done it.”

“We can't change that now, but here's the game plan. The next time someone spews toxic, hateful abuse at us, we'll have two options.”

“Option one?”

Alex holds up one finger. “Option one: we leave. Doesn't matter where we are or who we're supposed to be impressing or whatever. If it sucks, hit the bricks, as the internet says.”

“And option two?”

Alex uses the finger he's already holding up to point at his own face. “Option two: I kiss you. It's a classic distraction move. Option two is also valid no matter where we are or who we're supposed to be impressing. Both options mean we won't have to listen to the bullshit.”

“I'm afraid the Queen would hate either. In fact, I'm not sure which would rile her more: our kissing in public or simply… walking away, refusing to be subject to the invective.”

“Exactly. It's a win-win for us on multiple levels.”

The expression on Henry's face is brighter than it has been all day. That, too, is a major win for Alex. “You're truly a force to be reckoned with, love, do you know that?”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, “I'm a one-two punch. But, like, the metaphorical kind. Now come here so I can kiss you again.”

[gwydionae]

It's Not Going to Fix Itself

A/N: I just needed some Raph and Mikey bonding. Haven't written nearly enough of that lately.

Posted on fanfiction.net >here<.

Teaser: "I don't need help from you or anyone else!" The words were spat from Raph's mouth with such venom that anyone else might have believed them, but Mikey was more convinced than ever that dodging his older brother's angry, wild swings was exactly where he needed to be at that moment.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Takes place sometime after "Casey Jones vs. the Underworld".

It's Not Going to Fix Itself

"Seriously, how can they not be done yet?"

Mikey barely glanced at Raph who sat huffing with indignation on the bench in the common room, glaring down at his T-phone as if that might make it ring sooner. His older brother had been groaning and complaining ever since Donnie had taken off in the Shellraiser after a call from Casey. Apparently he had found some old car for cheap and bought it with the intention of having his own vigilante ride, but he hadn't even made it two blocks before the thing broke down. Raph had offered to tag along as he and Casey had talked about going on patrol that night, but Donnie had shut that idea down, noting that Raph's lack of knowing anything about how cars worked would only make him a distraction.

And so for the last hour and a half, Michelangelo's monster movie had been punctuated with the occasional growl and bark from his most short-tempered sibling. A typical Tuesday, then.

"I'm not gonna just sit here all night waiting for Casey's new toy to be fixed!"

"Pretty sure you said that, like, forever ago, dude," said Mikey, eyes never even leaving the TV screen. He really should have expected the pillow thrown at his head in response.

Not five minutes later, Raph was on his feet and stomping toward the lair's entrance. "That's it. I'm done waiting. Forget Casey and that stupid piece of junk that idiot got conned into buying."

"If you see Donnie, remind him he owes me some pizza gyoza," said Mikey as he lazily raised a hand in a wave, ignoring the rude gesture he received in response.

To be honest, Mikey was surprised it had taken as long as it had for Raph to storm off on his own. If he didn't know better, he might've guessed it was due to the current sad state of the city above as the residents of NYC tried to rebuild their lives after being subjected to an alien invasion for over half a year. The Kraang might be gone, but the streets and back alleys were meaner than ever, and going out alone was asking for trouble. But he did know better, and Raph loved trouble, so if anything, he should have taken off the moment he knew Casey was stuck on the side of the road somewhere.

Too distracted by his cheesy B movie to give it more than a passing thought, it wasn't until he heard the sound of the Shellraiser returning followed by not one but two familiar voices that he perked up, looking around curiously. Hopping up from his beanbag, he wandered over towards the garage and peeked inside. Donnie and Casey were talking animatedly, a beat up piece of machinery he supposed must have been a car at some point sitting next to them.

Mikey couldn't help but laugh, thoughts of his owed gyoza drowned out by the misshapen hunk of metal. "Dude, is this your new ride? What happened, did Donnie hit it with the Shellraiser?"

Turning toward him as he entered the room, Casey flashed him a proud smirk and patted the rusty hood. "You'll see. This little baby is gonna tear up the streets when me an' Donnie get through with her." He smacked said turtle roughly on his shell. "We've got so many ideas—it's gonna be wicked!"

"Your vehicle actually has to appear street legal, don't forget," said Donnie as he walked over to his shelf to grab his toolbox. "We mutant turtles would avoid the police regardless, but you at least have to make an attempt to obey traffic laws or else you could lose your license." He set down his toolbox next to the supposed car and shot Casey a wry smirk, "But let's worry about getting it to actually start first, shall we?"

"I'm telling you, the alternator is shot. Piece of cake, you'll see," said Casey as he popped the hood, wrestling with it a bit in order to get it to not only open but then stay open. "So let's get to it, D! Gotta fix this baby up so I can use it to strike fear into the hearts of evil everywhere!"

Mikey blinked. "You're working on it now?"

"It's not going to fix itself, Mikey," said Donnie patronizingly.

"But what about Raph?"

Casey and Donnie shared a glance before turning back to him, near identical looks of mild confusion on both of their faces. "Uh, what about Raph?" said Casey.

All three now wore the same expression. "Raph said you guys were going out tonight?" The statement came out as more of a question, Mikey suddenly wondering if maybe he had blocked out his older brother's grumblings better than he'd realized. The look of understanding that dawned on Casey's face told him that he hadn't.

"Oh, right," he said, smacking himself in the side of the head, "I totally forgot. Aw crud, guess I won't make it tonight after all. Tell'im for me, would ya, Mikey?" And with that, he turned back toward the exposed engine. "So that alternator—"

"Raph already left," Mikey blurted out, his brother's behavior from earlier nagging at the back of his brain. "Maybe you should call and talk to him."

Donnie raised an eyeridge. "If he's already gone, then there's nothing to worry about," he said, joining Casey in front of the engine, "aside from exactly how much trouble he's going to get into while out alone, anyway. It's probably best not to bother him."

"Yeah, it's cool." Casey didn't even turn around, craning his neck as if searching for something. "We'll bash some heads in some other time. But right now, Casey Jones is in need of some epic wheels!" Shoulders suddenly slumping, he let out a sigh, "Oh, man. Looks like we'll have to jack the car to get to it."

"'Piece of cake', huh?" mocked Donnie with a smirk.

The two car junkies already completely lost in their own world, Mikey silently exited the garage and headed back to the common room. Flopping onto his beanbag shell first, he lay sprawled out, staring upside-down at the bright colors flashing across the TV screen without really paying attention to the scene playing out before him. His brain kept stewing over everything he'd heard in the last two hours, a light frown on his face.

Casey calling Donnie for help, Raph waiting hours for any sign that Casey was going to show, Donnie offering to help Casey soup up his car, Casey forgetting his plans with Raph and not even calling to tell him...

When was the last time Raph and Casey had gone out on patrol together anyway?

"Think I could use some fresh air."

Jumping up, Michelangelo made a dash for the nearest exit, not even bothering to turn off the TV. As soon as he was topside, he headed straight for the area of town he knew Raph and Casey liked to patrol—Purple Dragon territory was perfect for "bashing in a few heads". Running from rooftop to rooftop, he kept his eyes trained on the alleys below, looking for any signs of a brawl, but it wasn't long before noises from above caught his attention. Next to him stood a building only a few stories higher than the rest in the area, but it was just tall enough that if he wanted to find out whatever was going on up there, he'd have to investigate more closely. Judging by the crashing, banging, and cursing, he thought he had a pretty good idea.

Climbing up the fire escape to reach the top, Mikey peeked over the edge, unsurprised when he found Raphael positively destroying a giant air duct vent. The poor thing was a mangled mess, and Mikey only hoped that his shell wouldn't wind up resembling it.

With a flip, he hopped onto the roof with a smile. "Hey, Raph! I been looking everywhere for—"

He was cut off by a loud growl as his brother smashed another sizable dent into the ductwork. "Buzz off, Mikey," he said, hands balled into tight fists, "unless you want me to start aiming for your face."

"How about we both aim at some other faces instead?" he pressed on, undaunted by the threat. "Pretty sure I saw a bunch of Purple Dragons ov—AHH!"

Mikey quickly jumped out of the way as a large fist was suddenly on a collision course with his head. Flipping and somersaulting across the roof, Raph kept up the chase, teeth grit in an angry scowl as he barreled full steam ahead.

"I said, get lost!" he shouted, swinging wildly as Mikey easily avoided the assault.

"Dude, chill!" he cried, holding out his hands in a sign of peace. "I'm just here to—WOAH!" He expertly ducked out of the way of a particularly vicious punch, Raph's fist instead colliding with some metal framework with a muffled clang.

"I don't need help from you or anyone else!"

The words were spat from his mouth with such venom that anyone else might have believed them, but Mikey kept up his dance, more convinced than ever that this was exactly where he needed to be.

"That why you complained about Casey for almost two hours?" he said, words that would normally be dripping with sarcasm now said plainly.

"Casey can go screw himself for all I care!" Mikey did not miss the slight stiffening of his rampaging brother's muscles. "If he wants to waste all his time with Donnie on that stupid, beat up tin can, then fine! Good riddance! Who needs'im?"

Making sure to keep eye contact while still avoiding getting his skull caved in, Mikey spoke in a calm, light tone, "I know how it feels to be left out, you know." Raph flinched at his words, his swings losing some of their ferocity. "So you could pummel me into oblivion, or—" the younger slowed to a halt, hands up in surrender, "—maybe you could talk about it?"

Fist still heading towards his face, Mikey closed his eyes with a grimace, waiting for the painful impact. But as said impact never came, he peeled one eye open to see wrapped knuckles inches from his nose, shaking ever so slightly. The hand was quickly lowered with a growl, still balled into a tight fist at Raph's side as he glared at a random spot on the ground.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said before seating himself on the rooftop with a huff, knees pulled up as he crossed his arms on top of them. The childish display was undercut by the nearly imperceptible crack in his generally confident tone as well as green eyes that always seemed to reveal more than his older brother would probably like.

Despite the verbal rebuff, Michelangelo plopped himself onto the roof next to him, happy to have seemingly calmed the beast without a scratch. "When was the last time you and Casey went out on patrol, anyway?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Raph shrugged and scoffed, "Weeks ago? We've been out together once since the invasion. Streets are worse than ever, and now that dufus wants to spend all his time on a hunk of junk that looks like Donnie ran it over with the Shellraiser?"

Mikey laughed. "Dude, that's exactly what I—wait," his face scrunched in confusion, "when'd you see it?"

Shrinking even more into himself, Raph muttered, "Caught'em right before they took off. Just kept yammering on about all the weird stuff Casey wanted to do to it."

Neither Donnie nor Casey had mentioned seeing him, which could only mean he hadn't wanted them to. Raphael was pretty hard to miss with his booming voice and heavy footsteps, which was normally how he seemed to like it. Based on their conversation in the garage, though, it wasn't hard for Mikey to guess why this time had been an exception.

"Have you tried talking to Casey about it?" said Mikey, though he was positive he already knew the answer, even before Raph's derisive scoff had left his mouth.

"And say what? That I'm mad at him for not hanging out with me enough? Yeah, that'll help," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Just tell him you wanna hang out more."

Raph fixed him with a glare. "Who do you think was the one who wanted to go out tonight? I've been asking him ever since we got the lair fixed up," he said, the bitterness in his tone unmistakable. "We used to team up several times a week, but lately he just heads out on his own. You heard his whole 'solo vigilante' bullcrap! And now he's got this piece of junk that he's perfectly fine working on with a guy he could barely stand a few months ago?" He turned away with an annoyed huff. "I don't need to be a genius to get the message."

Much as Mikey wanted to, it was hard to argue against Raph's logic. Casey's solo ventures hadn't exactly been a secret, and he had been hanging out with Donatello a lot more ever since the two were stuck working under the same roof back at the farmhouse. Raph had been quiet and distant at the time, likely too worried about Leonardo lying comatose in a bathtub to notice the change in dynamics. Not that Casey and Donnie getting along was a bad thing—even Raph had seemed relieved that their spiteful rivalry over April had morphed into a far friendlier sort of banter. But if Casey really was choosing to spend all his time either with Donnie or by himself and next to none with the guy that was supposed to be his best friend, well, it would be pretty impossible not to take that personally.

All the talk of friends not really hanging out in a while had Mikey's thoughts drifting to Leatherhead. He hadn't seen him since the defeat of the Kraang, and he'd been meaning to stop by the Mutanimal's new base of operations for a visit.

He suddenly perked up, his brain finally reminding him of who else would be there.

"Maybe you could hang out with Slash," he said cheerily. "He seems to be pretty chill now that he's with the Mutanimals." The suggestion had been offered with the best of intentions, but the way Raph stiffened at the mere mention of his former pet turtle had Mikey wondering if he'd missed something.

"Right," said Raph, voice still bitter as Donnie's morning coffee. "Slash, the guy who turned down my offer to team up because he was 'better off solo' and then turned around and teamed up with Pigeon Pete." He snorted dismissively. "Yeah, I'm sure the fact that he and Casey both did the exact same thing is just a coincidence."

Mikey swallowed a grimace at the forgotten similarities between the two, but refused to give up so easily. "But maybe—"

"Look, just," Raph cut him off, but rather than sharp, his tone sounded more resigned as he let out a sigh, "go home, Mikey. It's not like any of this really matters anyway, so stop worrying about me."

"Of course it matters, dude!" Jumping to his feet, Mikey wore a look of determination. Bending over toward his older brother who looked back incredulously, he planted both hands on his waist. "You think I don't know what this feels like? I watched the rest of my bros hang out with new friends without me for like a year before we busted Leatherhead out of Dimension X! And how about Chris Bradford—big dude, real famous, member of the Foot clan that pretended to be my friend before getting double mutated into a creepy wolf monster? I was seriously bummed out, thought I'd never make a real friend!" Plopping himself back down next to Raph, Mikey lightly elbowed him in the side. "But then someone��cheered me up, told me that I deserved better. What kind of bro wouldn't wanna return the favor?"

The look Raph directed at him held a twinge of guilt. "I just tried to pound your face in, like, ten seconds ago, Mikey," he said flatly. "I'm pretty sure you don't owe me anything."

Michelangelo didn't usually try to talk his most volatile sibling out of one of his more violent moods, but seeing him sitting there gloomily with worst case scenarios stewing in his head made him wish he'd tried more often. Normally Raph exuded confidence—frequently to the point of arrogance—never showing any signs of resignation or loneliness. But if he was showing those signs now, it seemed likely that other angry tirades might be due to feeling similarly dispirited, and Mikey had to wonder how much of Raph's confidence was specifically used to hide that fact.

If that was true, simply trying to talk him into feeling better seemed a bit of a hopeless cause. Long ingrained patterns of behavior weren't broken with words—they were broken with actions.

"You know what, you're right," he said at last, his tone so matter-of-fact that Raph gave him a curious glance out of the corner of his eye. "You did try to pound my face in, and all I wanted to do was help. That definitely means that now you owe me. So I say we head on over to Murakami-san's to pick up some pizza gyoza and then swing by the Mutanimals' place so we can all enjoy it together."

He did not miss the way the scowl already present on Raphael's face seemed to darken.

"Mikey..."

"What?" he replied innocently. "There'd be plenty! We could split it, like, ten for me, five for you, and—"

Expectedly, Raph cut him off. "I know what you're doing, so just drop it."

Mikey fixed him with a pointed look. "When was the last time you actually talked to Slash?" he asked before quickly adding, "while not in the middle of trashing a bunch of Kraang, I mean."

Looking away, Raph rested his chin on his arms as he muttered, "Probably before I knew he hated the name 'Spike' so much."

"That's what I'm saying!" Mikey jumped to his feet. "That's, like, forever ago, dude! Would you know how to act around a guy whose family you tried to flatten into turtle pizzas? Maybe he just feels super awkward and doesn't have a clue what to say." Crouching down directly in front of his brother, he reached out and gently nudged a folded arm. "Come on, Raph. Talk to him just this once! I promise that if you're right and you guys really can't be friends anymore, the two of us'll stay out the rest of the night pummeling Purple Dragons, destroying ductwork, and inhaling ice cream. Whaddya say?"

For a moment, it seemed as if his words had fallen on deaf ears, but soon green eyes were once again fixed on him, an eyeridge raised quizzically above them.

"'Inhaling ice cream'?" Raph repeated dryly, the barest hints of amusement tugging at one of the corners of his mouth.

Mikey grinned. "I figure we can skip the customary sappy movie, but why deny ourselves frozen, creamy goodness?" he said with a shrug before standing back up and holding a hand out to his seated sibling. To his delight, Raph reluctantly reached for it with a sigh.

"Can't believe you're talking me into this," he grumbled as Mikey helped pull him to his feet.

"No one can resist the charm of Michelangelo with a plan that involves totally awesome food," he said as he threw an arm around his older brother's shoulder.

With some hesitation on Raphael's part, they both swung by Murakami's noodle shop before heading to the Mutanimal's new hideout, and while the impromptu meetup was a bit awkward to start, by the end it turned out that there was no need for Mikey to help Raph mangle more of New York City's ductwork. Now nearly midnight, a promise to hang out again had Mikey heading back to the lair with a bright smile on his face, but Raph insisted that the night wasn't quite over yet. And as the two sat next to each other on Raph's bed, ice cream pilfered from the freezer in hand despite the late hour, Mikey decided that the next time his older brother stormed off, he wouldn't have to ride it out alone. ____________________________________

A/N: My dad would be proud with how much I learned about alternators by writing this. So many scenes that were basically just me venting about the fact that all of Raph's friendships in this show were done so dirty had to be cut due to, yanno, being solely there for venting purposes and not actually adding anything. :P Whoops.

As always, critics and grammar police appreciated!

[fuckitsdarkinhere]

Sooo you're just here {to troll}. Disappointing. Thought being a good person meant giving a shit and doing actual good in the world but fuck me for having standards, am I right?! 😂

Still though, despite you taking a thorough piss with this, I actually want to treat this situation seriously and so, I'll be making another post about you. 👋 If you unblock me again and respond, I will respond again then block you if you don't bring anything meaningful to the discussion. These posts will still be visible in your tag despite the block so good luck hiding them from other people.

As for not being able to come up with answers: I already did. If you had reading comprehension or actually gave a shit about this topic, you'd see that the answers are within the questions themselves. The problem with these answers is that they're currently ineffectual.

Even with crowd funding, we (as everyday people) can't afford lobbyists to make laws. We can vote things in at the state level, but you need to have the majority on your side and those laws can be overruled federally, if not outright removed by the Supreme Court, which has been rigged to be as anti-citizen as possible. Even if we were to luck out with all or even most of that, our current process just takes way too effing long. People shouldn't have to die for 10+ years before change can be enacted.

In 2010, the Canadian government made it illegal for any groups, larger than five, to congregate in public places wearing masks, after a bunch of masked teens destroyed some shops downtown in protest of the G10 summit. This law was immediate and rushed into law within 48hrs of the event taking place so don't tell me it's going to take ten fucking years to make these laws happen.

We need the American government to do the same but with insurance companies. I know that's a hell of a pipe dream given the dictator the royal you elected, dumbass, but maybe if they fear swinging in the breeze from a high tree, they'll do the smart thing and give into people's demands. (I doubt it, but you can't deny they're at least motivated to listen now.)

Always remember, we women had to kill to get the vote.

Oh I don't think it's because of your political stances, dear. Your behavior led me to that assumption.

What in the red-headed feminist???? Bitch, I'm leftist. I'm assuming this is your attempt to derail the conversation because I did not mention him or anything other than the current hot button topic that's got you all frazzled for some reason. (Afraid of ending up in the crosshairs someday? I'm queer, I live under its gaze. Did you just notice it?)

This might surprise you, but I think Zimmerman should be taken out back for what he did to Trevor. He shouldn't have gotten away with it and he totally abused his white-passing privilege to get away with it. (Annoying & disheartening how the internet's forgotten about him; man should be dogged for the rest of his days, but I digress.)

Despite what you think of me, I'm not a violent sociopath. I actually look for the peaceful solution 99% of the time. The 1% where I don't is reserved for evil, disgusting people who actively hurt others, like the CEO.

No, I don't want all CEO's dead and him just being a CEO isn't the problem; it's what he did and didn't do as CEO that got him in the literal crosshairs. Again, he was no wee-babe, but a cowardly bastard, arbitrarily killing people so he could pad his own pockets as well as the shareholders. He made $10,000,000 a year and did dick all with it so it's not even like he tried to atone.

You know what sensible people call those? Murderers. Why does this need to be explained to you? Everyone considers insurance companies and the people who run them as evil thieves, parasites and legalized killers, but it was accepted as a "necessary evil." It never should've become that normalized; you should not be on his side in this (and despite your other posts, you most definitely are.) You've also failed to realize...

HE THOUGHT MURDER WAS OKAY

And what's frightening is that you seem to think it's fine for him to think/do so.

No, as an insurer, he has a duty to pay out to people who pay in; not leave it up to a broken AI he didn't feel the need to take any accountability for. He actively pushed a faulty, defective product and did nothing to correct all of it's wrongful rejections. He failed as a CEO, as the head/face of the company and actively murdered people. To kill for your own needs/profit is inherently selfish and unjustifiable, but he's allowed to get away with it because…?

Are you some rich white girl or did you really hit the curb when your mother dropped you?

If it isn't, then where the hell are you getting this from? The only one who sounds hateful/frothing right now is you and you're clearly allowing previous biases to cloud your judgement.

For the record, I am NOT:

Pro-guns

Pro-gun violence

Pro-murdering of anyone/everyone

Right leaning (like, at all)

Straight

I am 100% in favor of:

Abortion & abortion rights

Proper sex education & preventatives

Gun control & sanity checks for gun ownership

Protecting yourself/your home from an attacker

Physically defending yourself if touched without consent (in any context)

Attacking an abuser or assailant that's blocking you from leaving a bad situation

Pro defense & murder when it comes to the "your body, my choice" crowd and for men who've killed in the dozens to thousands...

...which this CEO has.

Understand, my position isn't ill-thought out nor haphazard like you're wanting it to be. The right to kill should only be reserved for the most extreme/dire of circumstances, (like killing thousands.) Zimmerman was a coward who started shit and, unjustly, got to end it. What he did wasn't self-defense and IDK how his testimony to starting the conflict didn't void that entirely.

No one's life is worth a fucking chocolate bar.

But he was a small man with small goals. A problem, yes, but we're talking about a murderous CEO who sat in a chair and reaped profit from the dead. He's a mass murderer that's tricked society into thinking it's legal/just because of his title. It isn't. It's murder, 100% and we need to do something about it. Also, just because something's legal, doesn't mean it's just. A lot of laws need to change sooner rather than later but it's looking like the system you're so very dependent on is collapsing. Have fun with that. 😃

Yeah because you totally haven't been unblocking and re-blocking me to try and "win" this thing. I doubt the follow was accidental since you were still following by the time of my latest response.

What block circumvention? You're in my notifs:

Maybe stop unblocking me and it'll stick? Also, making posts about you in my own blog isn't considered block evasion if I can see and click on the notifications. Again, if you want this to stop, either have an actual discussion or keep me blocked. Any response from you will be seen and responded to.

Promise? Also, stop projecting. You're the one who actually needs to prove they're doing more than just trolling.

[zoffra]

Why Hisoka decided to kill the troupe ?

Analysis in two parts:

1- Hisoka's pre-fight personality

2- Hisoka's post fight psychological change

Part 1 -

Let us make a point on Hisoka's character.

Hisoka's a character who takes pleasure in fighting strong opponents, it's his reason for living, it's like a drug in the proper sense of the term. If he doesn't fight for a long time, or if he's about to fight and - for whatever reason - the fight doesn't start, he'll kill anyone to satisfy his need and calm his excitement. This happens, for example, during hunter exam after meeting Kurapika and Leorio (= satisfying his need), or after Illumi's meeting with Killua and Alluka (= calming his excitement).

Other than that, he carefully chooses his opponents and will even refuse fights if he judges that the person isn't worth it.

Hisoka's incredibly patient. In order to fight Chrollo, he'll put in a lot of effort. He joins the spiders - which already isn't an easy task - and waits for three years that an opportunity presents itself, so that he finds himself alone with the leader and can fight him. The other members don't interest him - except maybe Machi to a much lesser extent.

After Chrollo lost his Nen, Hisoka assists the troupe in search for the exorcist. Shizuku assumes that Chrollo promised him a fight in exchange for his help. It's not known how long Chrollo's deprived of his Nen, whats certain is that several months go by.

Abengan's Nen works like this: he invokes a Nen beast whose shape and size varies according to the curse's power posed by his user. The stronger the curse, the longer that will takes time- and you can be sure that Kurapika's chain was far more powerful than Genthru's bomb.

Later, we learn from Gitarakuru that after recovering his Nen, Chrollo fled. During this time, he returned to Meteor city to prepare his fight and steal various capacities - in particular that of the dean, Shalnark and Kortopi. Finally, after all these waiting years, Hisoka's finally rewarded and they'll fight in a place - that Chrollo himself chooses, as floor master : Celestial tower.

I'll not describe the fight, I can only advise those who haven't read the manga to go and find out for themselves. If I could sum it up in one word, it would be 'disappointing'. But not for us, readers, for Hisoka.

Chrollo used sneaky methods, avoiding to maximum close contacts with Hisoka, while sending his puppets to fight for him, waiting for opportunities to hit him critically. Warning! This isn't a criticism, I'm not saying it's something bad, these are just the facts.

We know that Chrollo's calculating and that beyond his extraordinary physical abilities, he distinguishes himself from others by his intelligence. For me, this fight is the very reflection of his personality, calculated like music paper and orchestrated by Chrollo as master of ceremonies.

It's also a nose thumb at the relationship they've always had. Hisoka spent more time killing puppets with no interest to reach Chrollo, rather than fighting him. He finds himself in the situation where he has always been.

At the time of his 'death', Hisoka made a pact with the Nen to bring him back to life. By using condition and oath - his death being the condition to be fulfilled - he wish that his heart's functions and his lungs will be restored. And from there, the troupe will have big problems.

Part 2 -

Spiders made several mistakes. When they inspected Hisoka's body, they were negligent. When Shalnark testified to Hisoka's death by asphyxiation, no one found his hands position strange. By that I mean they're seasoned Nen users, cold-blooded killers, they know that Nen gets stronger after death.

An important detail is that you can revive a suffocation victim - it shouldn't last too long of course, but it's not as if his head was cut off. And that's exactly what Hisoka will do.

He probably used Ken to absorb the explosion, surrounded his heart and his lungs with his Gum, then practiced a cardiac massage to resuscitate himself, - I pass about after-effects that his brain would normally have undergone, which is an ease logical scenario.

Machi said one interesting thing: '[Hisoka] still paid me in advance.' This means that she was in contact with him before, and Hisoka asked her to stitch up his wounds after the fight. Machi probably understood it as 'if I win the fight, can you heal me', but for Hisoka there was probably a double meaning: healing his wounds if they were too serious so that he do himself, or if he hadn't been in fit state to do it.

Biggest mistake spiders have made has been to underestimate Hisoka.

Towards fight's end (chap 355) when a puppets horde rush towards him, Hisoka has an angry expression. Hisoka's neutral facial expression is a mischievous pout, or in fights where he has to fight seriously, he has a concentrated expression.

It's extremely rare to see him angry, and I think his change of mind manifests himself at that time. Hisoka's face takes half a page's place and is a terrifying blackness, it's an important moment. All accumulated frustration since years literally explodes during this bitter taster fight.

When he wakes up, we don't immediately notice his change of mind, but when he speaks it's clearer.

'Reality knows how to wake you up.' Hisoka realizes - if not already done - that he'll not be able to defeat Chrollo with his usual methods.

A little higher, I said the trio had underestimated Hisoka but I also think of Chrollo. During the fight he was arrogant, explaining his abilities, inviting him to flee and then, telling him that isn't to taunt him - you can't make me believe thats true.

'If you've learned your lessons from this, then next time make sure to choose your opponent and the location you fight.' Machi's words complete Hisoka's decision, it was clearly not the thing to say to him at this precise moment.

This how Hisoka's change of mind worked for me. Hisoka's an irrational person but he killed with a certain consistent logic - strong ones who deserve his attention. His death - more precisely, circumstances of the fight leding to his death - played a major role in his transformation. He's no longer undefeated and has been ridiculed, Chrollo practically whistling when he sent his puppets against him.

'No matter where they go and who they are with, I won't stop until I kill them all' It's revenge.

His actions are no longer directed by the will to fight strong adversaries, they're guided by the outright brigade eradication.

Strangely, he leaves Machi alive. Don't tell me thats because he just wants she getting her message across to the other members, there were a thousand ways to warn Chrollo and the others without leaving her alive - and considering the awkward position she was in, he could have kill her without slightest concern. - In an interview, Togashi says that he didn't want to kill her at that time because he has other plans for her.

Kortopi was visibly relieving himself when he was killed. He was a pointless opponent for Hisoka, especially considering the situation in which he found himself. This proves once again his change of mind, it's a method of murderer.

Same method when he sends Kortopi's head to Shalnark. At that moment, Shalnark grabs his friend's head - which is edifying of stupidity - to verify that it's him, and Hisoka punches him.

On several occasions, I've read some people would have liked to see a real Shalnark vs Hisoka fight. But we had it, and difference in strength is too great. At that moment, it's true that Shalnark couldn't use his Hatsu, nevertheless he could still use his Nen but he didn't even had time to defend himself with his Ten.

We don't know if Hisoka kills Shalnark in one blow, it's possible that he survived for a moment. However, this isn't what the staging seems to evoke. The fight literally takes a half page, speed with which Hisoka starts the fight and shock's power when he hits Shalnark leaves no doubt as to the fight speed end. In addition, even though Hisoka's Nen strengthened, he was seriously injured - he was able to repair his limbs in appearance, but he has no healing ability like Machi or quick regeneration like an enhancer.

The last chapter page sounds like a real turning point. We knew Hisoka was sadistic, he likes to torture his opponents psychologically (cf: Kastro fight, Goto), but we had never seen him at work physically. After his fight, he took the trouble to stage the Shalnark's and Kortopi corpses, tying Shalnark to the swing like a puppet, refering to his ability and his fight against Chrollo.

Chapter ends abruptly with a sentence / thought from Hisoka: 'There are 10 left.'

Number 10 is interesting. At that moment, members still alive are the following: Phinks, Feitan, Machi, Kalluto, Nobunaga, Shizuku, Franklin, Bonorenov and Chrollo.

That makes 9. I consider that - even if he didn't see her die - Hisoka is aware of the Pakunoda's death. He spent a lot of time with members at Greed Island and Chrollo, it's impossible that he didn't learn it.

The 10th member is therefore Illumi - reader learns of his membership in the troupe only 20 chapters later -, he was therefore recruited before Hisoka announced his vendetta against spiders.

Last point I wanted to emphasize: when Hisoka says 'there is 10 left', he includes Chrollo. This shows that he no longer puts him on a pedestal, seeing him as the head or someone important. It's simply a leg to be eliminated.

Hisoka's personality has radically changed, he has finished playing.