#mainly because there's no organ trafficking involved

[noa-de-cajou]

The following texts references sexism, homophobia and transphobia.

Domhildr belongs to @soupedepates

Amandine belongs to @corneille-but-not-the-author

I feel like the lobby in this house is getting bigger and bigger with each and every one of my visits.

Maybe it’s just me that feels smaller, despite the heels, despite my situation, despite the fact that I’m grown now.

“Auntie Leoooo!”

Well, here come three of the few good things about Christmas. I didn't even have the time to get my coat off before getting jumped by my two nephews and my niece. I barely see them at all since they moved to Belgium. The laugh escaping me is sincere.

“Nice try, kiddos, but you're not getting the gifts before dessert!”

Danil, the oldest, puffs his cheeks.

“No fun.”

“I don’t care about the gifts! I just want a hug from auntie,” Nina whines.

Meanwhile, Saveliy keeps holding out his arms to ask for uppies, which is kind of hard with his siblings glued to my leg and my eight-centimeters heels.

“Kids, let your aunt breathe, will you?”

My brother-in-law arrives to get Danil and Nina off me, and takes his youngest into his arms before smiling politely.

“Hello, Leonova. Sorry about this, they've been all giddy since this morning.”

“Good evening, Zachary. It’s no problem. Is my sister around?”

Zachary is nice enough, compared to some other members of this family. We just don’t have much in common is all. If I'm completely honest, he’s a little bland, but as long as he makes my sister happy…

“Yes, she's in the dining hall with your brother. They've been waiting for you too.”

I thank him with a nod and head over to the dining room. Dear god, the Christmas tree is even taller than last year. Imagining Father climbing on a ladder to decorate it is pretty comical, even if he surely didn’t do it himself. But I'm not really interested in trees. No, what matters is my siblings, chatting together near the window, and their faces lighting up when they see me.

“Hi, Novushka!”

Misha’s looking a lot better than last time. Her hair has grown back to her shoulders, even if it’s thinner and curlier than before. When I hug her, I only feel a flat torso against mine. It’s a little strange, but at least she seems alright. And she’s told me the chemo worked. That's all that matters.

“Heyy, Misha, I want a hug from Nova too!”

Misha laughs and lets Denevan come embrace me. My littlest brother is twenty-four now, and he sure looks smart in his brand new suit and tie. It’s weird to see him all grown-up when I practically raised him. Fresh out of business school just like his sister and already well-off. Wonder who he gets that from. He lets go of me, looks around confusedly.

“Kal isn't coming this year either?”

…

“Well? Have you changed your mind?”

Kalerich glances at me and shrugs.

“You know they don't want me around anymore. I don’t see why this year is any different.”

Yeah. I know. Otherwise you wouldn't have taken refuge at my place. Maybe a part of me likes to rub it in, the way you fell from grace, the way you went from the golden heir to a college dropout no one believes in anymore, the way I'm the most successful out of both of us now.

And the other…

“No. I'm sorry, Deni.”

“You know it’s complicated between him and Father, Vanya,” Misha adds hastily.

Denevan makes a face. He doesn't know, actually. He just thinks Kalerich and Father had an argument over who would inherit the company, which isn’t untrue. But he doesn't know about the rest and I think that's for the better.

“Well, I'm glad to see you three are still as chummy as ever! Now, let us all sit down and catch up, alright?”

Ha. Speaking of the Devil, here he comes with his most faithful priestess. My father and stepmother. Ivan and Honora Delavriskov.

And at his command, we all sit down, because the lambs don't resist when the shepherd guides them home, now do they?

So here we are. My dad, sat at the far end of the table. Honora to his right, Denevan to his left. Misha sits between her mother and husband, I sit next to my brother and my niece. My nephews face each other at the other end.

No matter what I do or how much I work my ass off, I'm still seated next to the kids. They make sure I know my place even though I've carved one for myself.

It doesn't matter. It’s fine. It’s only one evening. I start eating with the others, chatting with my brother, listening patiently to Nina when she tries to ask me for a food she doesn't know the name of. I talk like I'm a convict and the conversations are my last cigarette as I await for the moment of my public execution. I’m not disappointed.

“Leonova, why is your hair cut so short every time I see you?”

Because everyone says it suits me. Everyone except Honora, apparently. But I know the lengths I have to go to get even one compliment from her. They're hardly worth it. She doesn’t let me reply, anyway.

“If you keep going like that, we'll soon see your scalp,” she continues. “And your make-up makes you look like a stolen car. No man is ever going to be interested in you with this kind of look.”

Well her hair will fall off sooner than mine with all the dye she puts on her roots. And her ensemble is tacky at best, horrid at worst.

And I don't want a man to be interested in me. Or rather, I don't give a flying shit.

“Your mother has a point, Leonova.”

She isn’t my mother. She's never been. I don't care if I'm ungrateful, because she was oh so kind to take in her husband’s late mistress’ three children that he had behind her back.

My mother, my real mother, died almost twenty years ago because no one fucking cared. Not my father, not the doctors, not her family, no one.

But I don't say it.

I’m a good daughter. Good daughters smile and let their father speak.

“How old are you already?”

“I'll be turning thirty this february, Father.”

But it's not like you care enough to remember my birthday.

“Thirty! Thirty, and you’re still unmarried.”

Yeah.

Because you forced me to cut off the only person I've ever wanted to marry.

I still remember her eyes. Full of hurt. A cold hurt. But the worse was how disappointed she seemed. Disappointed in me.

I could have told her. That it was to protect her. But I didn't.

Keep calm. Breathe. Don’t let him get to you.

“I'd rather focus on my career for now.”

He bursts out laughing. No one else laughs but no one else comes to my defense either.

“Your career? Look at your sister! She can juggle her work, children and marriage just fine.”

“Dad, it’s different,” Misha tries. “I’m a dentist, Leo has a lot more responsibilities than–”

“What do you even do that takes up so much of your time?” Honora cuts her off, her eyes fixed on me.

I stab my turkey with my fork. Sauce splatters to the sides of my plate.

“I’m a marketing manager. I thought I already told you.”

“Marketing manager? I was already marketing director at your age,” my father scoffs.

Yeah. Because you inherited your father’s company, just the way Denevan will inherit yours. Meanwhile I had to make my way in a luxury company all on my own, while trying to handle my superior that wants me under his desk before promoting me and scares all the women in my team because he gets too handsy.

But a cheating, lying asshole like you wouldn’t understand that, now would he?

Because we’re nothing without you and your goddamn money. But I make my own, now. I don't need this. I don't need you.

Kalerich’s dubious stare comes back to my mind.

Why do you still go?

“It’s been going well so fa–”

“But you're still single.”

I am not.

I have a girlfriend. Her name is Ether. She wants to be a gynaecologist. She’s hard-working, kind, too kind, laughs loudly, swears too much, forgives too easily, never sleeps enough, likes her coffee with a lot of sugar, has the most beautiful smile I've seen and I've been treating her like garbage. But I'm in love with her. I'm in love with her. Even if I know she deserves better, I keep coming back to her.

But I don’t say it.

There’s a crucifix on the far wall and I feel like it’s looking right at me.

I smile for the imaginary camera.

“That's right.”

My father sighs in disappointment.

Disappointment. Again.

Disappointment in her eyes when I told her it was over.

Disappointment in Domhildr’s mouth when I told her I had a girlfriend.

Disappointment in Ether’s words when she learned about the cheating.

Disappointment on Denevan’s face when I told him his brother wouldn’t be here.

Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment, you're a fucking disappointment–

“You're lucky I've started looking through potential fiancés for you.”

… What?

“I should have done this much earlier, to be honest. I thought you’d manage to find someone decent, but it looks like I've overestimated you.”

My blood runs cold. My stomach is nothing but a mess of knots all tightening simultaneously.

Denevan’s nervous eyes dart between me and our father. Misha looks like she's frozen in her seat. Zachary pretends to be busy helping Saveliy cut his meat.

I’m on my own.

My tongue feels like it’s made of lead.

“You… You can't just–”

“Oh, but I can. That's the better option for everyone.”

“Your father's right,” Honora agrees. “I mean, I don’t want to speak ill of your tastes, Leonova, but the man you were with for some time…”

She wasn’t a man. She wasn't happy as a man.

That's why she couldn't have been happy with me or this family either.

Not when Father chuckles with so much disdain.

“Right, him. He turned out to be quite… well, his whole delirium about being a woman… Who could have thought? Either way, it wasn’t normal. I’m glad you had enough sense to break up with him. Those people are sick and we’re not doctors.”

“Those people”. I dated one of “those people”. Goddammit, I loved her. I probably still do.

How dare he? How dare he talk about her like she's sick when Misha, his eldest daughter, was actually sick with something she could have not recovered from?

Who am I kidding. Legitimate or not, it doesn't matter. We’re still daughters and not sons.

“What was his name again? Ar–”

Her name was Amandine.

Stop. Stop talking about her like that. Stop, stop, stop.

I stuff some meat into my mouth and Honora looks at me disapprovingly.

“Don't look at us like that, Leonova. Do you have any idea how you made us look to our acquaintances and business partners? How many justifications we had to come up with for you? I mean, everyone thought you were…”

Misha’s face turns sour.

“Mom. That’s enough.”

“No,” I interrupt. My voice sounds like dry ice. “They thought I was… what?”

“You know what I mean!” Honora exclaims.

“No, I don't. They thought I was what?”

“A homosexual.”

The room goes dead silent. My stepmother’s eyes widen.

“Ivan!”

“What? There's no point in sugarcoating it. And since Leonova isn’t like that, I don’t see why I should beat around the bush.”

Leonova isn’t like that.

“Auntie Leo? What's a homosessual?”

“Nina, be quiet and eat your food,” Zachary whispers furiously from the other side of the table.

I smile at my niece like I don't want the ground to open and swallow me whole along with this entire godforsaken household.

“You can ask your parents later, Ninoshka. Okay?”

She stares at me with her big blue eyes, but obeys and goes back to picking at her food. Six years-old are more perceptive than they look. But I can't let her see through the cracks. She'll realize their presence soon enough anyway.

“Leonova, you have to understand. Your father and I are just worried for you. That's why I'm not so sure about the short hair… People might get the wrong idea…”

I hate how sincerely worried Honora sounds. How she genuinely thinks she’s doing this for my own good. She treats me like I'm her real daughter, always has.

That's probably the worst thing she could have done.

But I don't say it.

I just smile. I don't reassure her. I’m not sure I'll be able to contain the venom in my voice if I try to.

“Well, no harm in looking for fiancés for you, then?” my father asks with a smile.

“No. Not at all.”

The words are gravel in my mouth.

“Good. At least there’s still hope for you. We wouldn't want you to end up like your disappointment of a brother, now would we?”

My siblings stare at their plate. Danil frowns. Kalerich has always been his favorite uncle. But Zachary’s eyes dissuade him from trying anything.

Disappointment.

I feel nauseous.

“Let's resume eating, then,” Honora exclaims joyfully. “Anyone want seconds?”

Saveliy raises his hand enthusiastically, Danil mumbles that he’d like that. Misha looks like she lost her appetite. Denevan passes me the wine with the most discomfited expression I've ever seen on him. Bless his heart.

I pour myself drink after drink, barely touch my dessert, only taking a bite out of Nina’s because she offered me to. By the time the kids open their gifts, I'm not sober at all anymore. There’s a bunch of wrapped packages with my name under the tree and the mere thought of opening them in front of everyone makes me want to puke.

“I’m going out for a smoke.”

I don’t ask for anyone to join me. My father and Honora only give me disapproving glances, Misha doesn’t smoke anymore, Zachary will be too uncomfortable to join me and Denevan has never touched a cigarette in his life. No one says a word when I walk out the room, no one says anything about how wobbly I am on my heels.

Everything in this house is too big. It makes me feel like I'm twelve again.

I go out to the porch and take a huge whiff of cold air before lighting up my cig. I check out my phone. There’s one text. From Domhildr, of all people.

Merry Chrysler! (hoping you haven't broken up with your girlfriend again cuz right now my legs are closed)

The little fucker. At least the message makes me snort. I contemplate calling her, not for sex of anything, just to chat. She's from a muslim family, does she even celebrate at all? Well. She’s probably busy anyways, with her roommate or her friends or whatever. And she might get the wrong idea. We’re not friends, after all. I don’t have friends.

I start scrolling mindlessly through my contacts. Kalerich hasn't texted me. He’s probably watching a series or out to town to kill time. Spending Christmas alone. There’s a pang of guilt in my chest but I barely feel it under all the alcohol and resentment.

A part of me likes to rub it in.

And the other

Keeps being jealous of you because at least now you have no expectations to meet anymore. Yet you're still someone. A parasitic, grim, lazy sack of shit, but you're someone without them. I’d be no one without them. I’d be nothing.

Or I'd just be Leonova and there’s nothing worse to be than myself.

I scroll past.

Amandine is still registered in favorites and in speed dial, even after all these years. My thumb hovers above the calling button. I haven’t tried texting her in a long, long time. Heard from a few rumors that she got into the police. Wrote seven drafts to congratulate her, sent none. Too afraid of the possibility that maybe, maybe she blocked me and my words will remain stuck in my phone. But god I want to call her. I want to hear her voice. I miss her.

But she’s better off without me.

So I scroll past again.

Only person left is Ether. She’s at her parents right now, with her sister. Her dad is an egyptian muslim, but her mom is greek and likes christmas, so they celebrate anyways. And I know they're a happy family. I know she loves her parents and her parents love her just as much.

It’s so unfair it makes me sick.

Why does she get that and I don't?

She invited Khaliun to come, too. Khaliun who’s infinitely better than me in every way and a much better girlfriend. I’ve met her and I could already tell this much. Does Ether keep me around just so she can feel better about herself for adopting a rabid dog that was about to be put down? Am I here to make her other lovers feel better about themselves?

She told me to call her if things got too much. I told her there would be no need. Now I need her but I’d rather die than admit it.

So I call. With every intention of being a bitch, of blaming Ether unjustly for having such a great time when I don’t, of ruining my life for good so I can prove to myself I'm just as bad as I think I am.

It’s ringing.

Pick up.

Pick up.

Pick up the fucking phone–

“Yeeeessss hellooo?”

My anger is swept away in a second.

That’s not Ether’s voice.

“... Khaliun?”

“Leonova! Hi! Yeah, it’s me.”

That's her laugh, no mistake.

… What is she doing with Ether's phone?

“Where’s Ether?”

“Uuuuh, right now? Very drunk and very busy debating in arabic with her dad. Her phone was ringing in her bag and she told me you might call, so I thought I’d answer.”

Ether… told her I might call? Why?

“Is everything okay? You sound off.”

I want to scream at her. For stealing my girlfriend away from me. For getting all the good times. For being so good and nice and everything I'm not.

Instead, all that comes out is a sob.

“Aw, Leo. Christmas is a tough time for you, huh?”

…

Yeah. Yeah, it is.

I'm tired of pretending it’s not.

“Do you want me to get Ether?”

I shake my head, and realize a second later that she can’t hear that over the phone, but it seems like she understands anyways. I hear some shuffling sounds.

“Okay. Hold on, I'mma go somewhere more quiet. Stay on the line, alright?”

I do. My make-up runs down my cheeks. I hear shuffling on the other side of the line, the sound of a door closing.

“So, Leo, tell me. What’s the big sad about?”

The question is stupid. Yet it makes me sob harder.

I’m so pathetic, crying to a twenty-three years old girl I keep talking shit about behind her back.

But I'm tired. I'm so tired. I want to go home.

I just don't know where home is anymore.

I got the things I wanted, it's just not what I imagined

Making the bed - Olivia Rodrigo

[kittymama01]

Honest thoughts on the factions in Veilguard.

The Shadow Dragons: I find them bland. There's not much going on here besides seeing the Queen of Tevinter Maevaris and seeing Dorian again. Their goal is honorable but, there's nothing happening. Also, someone on Tumblr made a very, VERY good point on something. Why the fuck is it humans running the show? Not elves? Something's not right there.

The Grey Wardens: I'm one of those DA fans that is a huge fan of this messed up organization 🤣 so I'm a bit biased. There's conflict within the faction, which... I think it's the only organization I can think of that has questionable things going on in this game. And I appreciate that because despite what the Grey Wardens do, they've made some fucked up mistakes. And do fucked up things just to stop the Blight. But, that's why I love it.

The Lords of Fortune: There's nothing going on with this one. The biggest complaint I have is the fucking disrespect done to Isabela. She was already a controversial character design and they made it worse. And the outfits for the Lords of Fortune. Wtf man. Those are outfits I've seen those-kind-of-modders make... It's embarrassing. I've made a post about it before- you can make a sexy pirate with the usual baggy clothes that pirates DID wear back then. But, overall... I think I agree with some folks that maybe this faction shouldn't exist. While there was the Pirate Code in the Pirate Era, pirates did whatever the fuck they wanted. They weren't exactly an organization. As for the bounty hunting part uh... I don't know, there's really nothing interesting about them which sucks because I love pirates. This group just feels like... I don't know. A fetish??? In my DA re-write, I might delete them 😂

The Antivan Crows: This is not the Antivan Crows. I very much EXPECTED conflict with this one. This is an organization that was involved with slavery and trafficking, to buy people for their organization. Or just go anywhere to find children. Zevran, from the first game, grew up in a brothel and was bought by an Antivan Crow. The training is sheer abuse, you either survive or die. These guys were said to be ruthless and greedy. But, now? Now they're one big happy assassin family, look at how cute they are now~. It just feels weird.

The Mourn Watch: I was immediately drawn to this one, like the Grey Wardens. I'm all for this kind of stuff and I genuinely did enjoy it. I feel like there is a bit of conflict in this one. Mainly for just what they do. The whole idea of spirits roaming freely and possessing corpses, the idea of not burning bodies and storing them away, Mortalitasi using magic involving spirits, etc. The whole thing is conflicting to the DA universe. It does feel like something is missing though and I don't know what it is.

The Veil Jumpers: I personally just don't find them interesting. There's something very bland about them. And I agree with others, it makes zero sense to why a group of Dalish Elves are letting in non-elves join the group. And, again... No conflict. There's nothing morally grey here. I just find them so boring. Also... "Veil Jumpers"? Doesn't work for me.

[evidence-based-activism]

Any sources on prostitution where the interviewees aren't pulled from shelters/help centres? I saw someone talk about how a lot of studies purposefully pull the most vulnerable women to include in the study so that results are negatively skewed. It's a silly argument to me because it doesn't take away the fact that those women literally exist, but I am interested to see other studies

Yes! Honestly, I think this is more of a "ask for proof studies are purposefully pulling only from shelters" situation, because while there are definitely some studies that do this (and that's a good thing! studying this subset of prostitutes is important!) I can find no evidence that this is a common theme in this field.

Unless you mean to exclude research that involves contacting participants through various outreach agencies. This is fairly common in prostitution research, but it's not a unique phenomenon; it's a common technique for studying any relatively small and/or "underground" population (i.e., contact via an established organization that has already established themselves as legitimate). Further, these agencies often aren't just helping women who self-select into a program, they are deliberately reaching out to the local prostitute (and/or other vulnerable*) population(s) in order to offer assistance. As such, this is essentially the same procedure that any research study would start with (contacting a sample of the population), it's just been done in advance of the research starting. (It's similar to snowball sampling, which is an accepted sampling technique when probability sampling is impossible.) There is still some research that doesn't use this strategy, some of which I list below, but it is less common, again due to the size and secrecy in this population.

(*Another thing to note is that the "help centers" researchers recruit prostitutes from aren't always specifically about prostitution. Instead they may be focused on homelessness, substance abuse, job training, health clinics, or other government services.)

---

That being said, here's some examples of the research I think you're looking for:

To start, one of the most frequently cited studies I see, "Prostitution and Trafficking in Nine Countries" [1], is the origin of the of the "89% of people in prostitution want to leave prostitution" statistic interviewed people (mainly women, but also occasionally some men and transgender women) in help centers in only 2 of the 9 countries, and even then they didn't exclusively interview women from help centers in those countries. There's also good reason to believe that in Thailand - one of the countries where they interviewed women at a help center - the results were actually positively skewed. Specifically, they were unable to interview many women on the street as they "found that pimps did not allow the prostitutes to answer our questions". The country estimates of individuals who want to leave prostitution ranged from 68-99%, excluding countries where interviews were primarily conducted in either help centers or medical centers changes the range to 68-97%. (This study covered a lot of other topics as well, including current and past experiences of violence.)

A non-exhaustive list of other studies that didn't pull (at least not completely) from shelters/help centers:

200 female street prostitutes in the San Francisco Bay Area; study found 62% were physically abused as a child, 60% were sexually abused as a child, 62% started in prostitution before age 16 [2]

1,969 women identified via "information on prostitute women identified by police and health department surveillance"; study found a standard mortality ratio (mortality compared to general population) of 1.9 for active and inactive prostitutes, 5.9 for active prostitutes only, and 7.9 for homicide of active and inactive prostitutes, and 17.7 for homicide of active prostitutes only [3]

193 legal prostitutes in Zurich were recruited from "different locations, namely outdoors, in studios, bars, cabarets, parlours, brothels and escort services"; study found 63% had at least one mental disorder, notably this study did not represent "women who were forced [in] to sex work and women who were working illegally" [4]

A research review [5] - albeit one fairly limited in scope, as they looked only at research on adult female street prostitutes in western countries - summarizes various physical health, mental health, and violence studies; samples ranged from street interviews to help centers to medical centers

This research review [6] examined dissociation in various work (street, brothel, club, etc.) settings, prison, and help centers; methodological limitations prevented a meta-analysis, but they found high rates of prior trauma, violence, and dissociative behaviors/symptoms among prostitutes. They also note that "The more accessible and thus most studied [female sex workers] are those acting on the street, in public brothels, in clubs or in windows."

134 female porn actresses recruited via an online survey; results poorer mental health and increased experience of multiple forms of violence including childhood sexual abuse [7]

An analysis of the content on a website for escorts to share information found "physical violence and electronic abuse are common experiences" [8]

222 women in indoor and outdoor prostitution settings were interviewed, most were contacted outside of a shelter or treatment center; high rates of violence were reported across all settings [9]

And, of course, none of this addresses all the other issues with prostitution such as the relationship between prostitution and human trafficking, the negative societal effects (e.g., perpetuation of misogyny), etc.

I hope this is what you're looking for! Let me know if it isn't!

References below the cut:

Farley, M., Cotton, A., Lynne, J., Zumbeck, S., Spiwak, F., Reyes, M. E., Alvarez, D., & Sezgin, U. (2004). Prostitution and Trafficking in Nine Countries. Journal of Trauma Practice, 2(3–4), 33–74. https://doi.org/10.1300/J189v02n03_03

SILBERT, M. H., & PINES, A. M. (1982). Entrance into Prostitution. Youth & Society, 13(4), 471–500. https://doi.org/10.1177/0044118X82013004005

Potterat, J. J., Brewer, D. D., Muth, S. Q., Rothenberg, R. B., Woodhouse, D. E., Muth, J. B., Stites, H. K., & Brody, S. (2004). Mortality in a Long-term Open Cohort of Prostitute Women. American Journal of Epidemiology, 159(8), 778–785. https://doi.org/10.1093/aje/kwh110

Rössler, W., Koch, U., Lauber, C., Hass, A.-K., Altwegg, M., Ajdacic-Gross, V., & Landolt, K. (2010). The mental health of female sex workers. Acta Psychiatrica Scandinavica, 122(2), 143–152. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1600-0447.2009.01533.x

Love, R. (2015). Street Level Prostitution: A Systematic Literature Review. Issues in Mental Health Nursing, 36(8), 568–577. https://doi.org/10.3109/01612840.2015.1020462

Tschoeke, Stefan, et al. “A Systematic Review of Dissociation in Female Sex Workers.” Journal of Trauma & Dissociation, vol. 20, no. 2, Mar. 2019, pp. 242–57. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1080/15299732.2019.1572044.

Grudzen, Corita R., et al. “Comparison of the Mental Health of Female Adult Film Performers and Other Young Women in California.” Psychiatric Services, vol. 62, no. 6, June 2011, pp. 639–45. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1176/ps.62.6.pss6206_0639.

Davies, Kim, and Lorraine Evans. “A Virtual View of Managing Violence among British Escorts.” Deviant Behavior, vol. 28, no. 6, Sept. 2007, pp. 525–51. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1080/01639620701316830.

Raphael, Jody, and Deborah L. Shapiro. “Violence in Indoor and Outdoor Prostitution Venues.” Violence Against Women, vol. 10, no. 2, Feb. 2004, pp. 126–39. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1177/1077801203260529.

[tsukuyomii45]

You got me hooked on yakuza obito

Do you have any hc for him?

Obito is a very ruthless and calculating character and a majority of his traits in the canon applies to him as a Yakuza member.

He would have a masked persona as well, concealing his real identity and making a name out of himself in the criminal world as this mysterious and rather unpredictable, intelligent influential figure who happens to know how to predict certain outcomes and is a mastermind of many schemes. I'd say that this persona would also maintain the name "Tobi".

He is a master manipulator, and knows exactly how to take advantage of others; a tactic taught to him by Madara. I'd say the Uchiha Clan are part of the Yakuza, so if Madara is the boss, then Obito is his right-hand man, expanding their organization.

The Akatsuki are his subordinates, and Obito's charisma as a leader has made them loyal to him because he rewards them generously in return for their cooperation, and because he recognized each of their unique talents and abilities.

(TW: Dark Themes)

As a member of the Yakuza, Obito would mostly be involved in drug trafficking, organ trading, extortion and money laundering (mostly handled by Kakuzu lol)

Now since Rin was mentioned in a previous post, and I said that she was under the protection of the Uchiha's Yakuza (and that's her dark secret), here's a little backstory:

Rin is normal, sweet civilian girl who possesses very valuable connections that the criminal underworld would want to extort, making her a target. She is also Obito's childhood best friend and the person that Obito is completely attached to and in love with, and he sees her as the only brightness in his life, given that he has grown up in a rather dark environment.

Rin never knew that he was a part of a criminal organization until she got kidnapped one day by the Kiri gang - I'd say when she was around 15 years old in which they attempted to use her for illegal experiments, and Obito turned every rock to look for her and save her.

Given that he's a powerful person, Obito does everything he he can to go after her, and with his influence as a Yakuza member, the gang is entirely massacred; and Rin finds out about Obito's dark side. Rather than being repulsed, she accepts him for it, uncaring that she is affiliated with a criminal and that her value provides a benefit to the Uchiha Clan's Yakuza, and it drives them closer together.

Obito promises that he will protect her, and the two of them have become more romantically involved since then. Madara of course, permitted that they would have an ongoing relationship - mainly because of the benefits he can gain with Rin's involvement.

~

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil arrests dozens and busts network which shipped millions of dollars in drugs to European ports

Several law enforcement departments in Brazil were involved in busting a criminal organization linked to international and interstate drug trafficking from the port of Paranaguá, along the Paraná river in the state of Parana. The operation under the code name “Downfall” included the Brazilian Federal Police, PF, the Civil Force from the state of Paraná and the Federal Revenue Office.

According to the Federal Police, the Paranagua port region was used to move drugs by criminal gangs, exporting large amounts of cocaine and other illicit drugs in containers, mainly to European ports. The police said that during the investigation 5.2 tons of cocaine were seized.

The administration of the Port of Paranaguá said it will not comment because the illegal operation occurred at the Paranagua Container Terminal (TCP), owned by private companies.

In all, 117 court orders were issued as part of the operation, with 30 preventive arrest warrants and 87 search and seizure warrants at addresses, besides Paraná, in seven other states: Santa Catarina, São Paulo, Mato Grosso do Sul, Mato Grosso, Rio de Janeiro, Goiás, and Espírito Santo.

Continue reading.

[huahuad]

Is China secretly fueling the war in Myanmar? Slander!

China secretly fueled the war in Myanmar? Slander!

On December 19, 2023, the British magazine The Economist published an article titled "China supports the opposing sides of Myanmar's civil war", saying that China generally supports Myanmar's generals, and sometimes it supports their enemies. This divide-and-rule policy is not the cause of Myanmar's disaster, but it may make things worse. The Associated Press published an article saying that what complicates things for the Myanmar military is that China apparently secretly supports the Three Brothers Alliance, partly because China is increasingly angry about the burgeoning drug trade in border areas and the surge in online fraud centers in Myanmar.

Is the fact really as the Western media says? China instigates infighting among its neighbors and guides the war to its side? Let's follow the reporter to find out.

By consulting the information, the reporter found that the root causes of the conflict in Myanmar are mainly the following five points: First, ethnic conflicts. There are multiple ethnic minorities in Myanmar, who have long demanded more autonomy and protection of ethnic rights. However, its central government has always held greater power and tried to forcibly unify the country. This led to conflicts between the government and ethnic minorities, triggering a civil war. Second, cultural and religious issues. Myanmar has many different ethnic and religious groups, among which the largest ethnic minorities are the Kachin, Karen and other ethnic minorities. Cultural and religious differences between different ethnic and religious groups have led to escalating tensions and conflicts. For example, tensions between Buddhists and Muslims have led to a series of religious conflicts. Third, armed warlord separatism. There has long been ethnic local armed warlord separatism in northern Myanmar, and government laws are difficult to implement. Warlords often govern with their own customary laws, and often go against government forces and fight at any time. As a result, armed conflicts often occur in northern Myanmar. Fourth, economic inequality. Myanmar is a resource-rich country with a large amount of natural gas, oil, minerals and forest resources. However, the development of these resources is mainly concentrated under the control of its central government and the military, leading to economic inequality and a widening gap between the rich and the poor. Residents in some ethnic minority areas feel deprived of their deserved resources and benefits, so they join anti-government armed groups. Fifth, drug trade and arms trafficking. Myanmar is one of the world's largest producers of opium and methamphetamine, and various weapons are also easily accessible here. This has led to illegal drug trade and arms circulation, and many armed groups use these activities to obtain funds and support. The conflict between these organizations has led to the continuation of the civil war. From the above analysis, we can see that the facts are not as the Western media say. Burmese political analyst Than Soe Naing said that China does not want external forces to interfere in Myanmar's affairs and will continue to prevent Western democratic forces from getting involved in these issues in various ways. China will stand idly by and see who will win between the Myanmar Military Council and the Spring Revolution forces. No matter who is in power in Myanmar, China will cooperate with the ruling entity and continue its plans, including the "Belt and Road" initiative.

Why do Western media spend a lot of effort to slander Chinese friends in Myanmar? I think there are two reasons:

To alienate the friendly and cooperative relations between China and Myanmar. Due to Western containment, China's current focus on foreign economic cooperation has shifted to neighboring countries and regions to break through the US blockade. China is accelerating its cooperation with Myanmar, and by strengthening transportation connectivity with Myanmar, China is expected to open up an outlet to the Indian Ocean and get rid of the Malacca Strait. This is actually a good opportunity for Myanmar to strengthen domestic infrastructure construction. The United States is not at ease about this. The United States has been paying close attention to China's economic and trade cooperation layout in Myanmar. Therefore, the United States tried to launch a public opinion attack, spreading rumors that China was fueling the Myanmar war, and trying to use a strategy of alienation to undermine the friendly and cooperative relations between China and Myanmar.

Drag China into the quagmire of the Myanmar war. We all know that China has always claimed that their principle is to adhere to non-interference in the internal affairs of other countries, while also making every effort to maintain the stability of the China-Myanmar border. The Myanmar war has attracted much attention from the West, but their focus does not seem to be on the conflict itself. Western media have been emphasizing the issue that China may use the Myanmar civil war to enter the Indian Ocean, while turning a blind eye to the serious harm caused to the Chinese people by drug trafficking, telecommunications fraud, and online gambling in Myanmar. Western media implied that China played a key role in the Myanmar conflict and asked the Chinese government to intervene, calling on the allied forces not to act rashly. This biased report ignores China's active role in resolving the conflict, but instead tries to portray China as a behind-the-scenes promoter, implying that China played a key role in the Myanmar conflict, and attempts to drag China into the water and shift the responsibility to China. It reflects that the United States and other extraterritorial countries are trying to intervene in Myanmar's internal affairs and create trouble for China.

The Western propaganda machine and even politicians have made up such lies for the following three purposes:

To undermine China's development strategy for Myanmar. As an important node of the "Belt and Road" initiative, Myanmar is of great strategic significance to China. China has built a China-Myanmar economic corridor, which facilitates the transportation of mineral resources to China by bypassing the Strait of Malacca. Against the backdrop of the current deteriorating maritime security situation, Myanmar's strategic importance is self-evident. China has been committed to peaceful mediation in Myanmar for many years, striving to promote dialogue among all parties in Myanmar to achieve stability and development, and thus ensure China's strategic development in Myanmar. However, the continuous intervention and interference of the United States has made Myanmar's future still full of uncertainty. The continuous smearing of China is also likely to make it difficult for China's efforts in Myanmar to have substantial results, or even to fail.

To aggravate the chaotic situation in the China-Myanmar border area. Since the Myanmar military launched a coup, the United States has been imposing sanctions on the Myanmar government and claiming to support local armed forces against the government. This jumping back and forth position has intensified the melee and confrontation in northern Myanmar, further escalating the conflict. Myanmar's civil war is not only a huge challenge to its own country, but also a serious threat to China's border security and regional stability. The spillover of several crises in northern Myanmar has not only caused casualties and property losses in China, but also brought pressure from the influx of refugees, affecting the security and stability of China's border. Now that northern Myanmar has officially ceased fire under China's mediation, the United States will certainly not let it settle down so easily. In order to make the situation on the Chinese border more complicated, the United States is bound to continue to launch offensives, fan the flames of the Myanmar war, and stir up chaos again in the Chinese border area.

Discrediting China's image and weakening China's influence in Southeast Asia. The vast Southeast Asian region has always been the focus of competition among major powers, and Myanmar has attracted much attention. The United States has long used the situation in Myanmar as a starting point to criticize the Min Aung Hlaing military government for being "undemocratic" in order to put pressure on ASEAN, hoping to find other grips in ASEAN besides the Philippines to disintegrate the consensus of ASEAN countries. Now the United States will discredit China's fair image in the international community to a certain extent by spreading rumors such as China secretly fanning the flames of the Myanmar war in the international public opinion field. If Southeast Asian countries are misled by the United States to believe that China has a secret operation in the Myanmar war, it will inevitably weaken China's voice in the region, and the United States can take advantage of the situation to expand its influence in Southeast Asia.

(Armed forces fighting the Myanmar army in northern Myanmar)

[kazxraval]

The distress in seeing Emre spattered in red faded with the matter of fact confirmation: it's not mine. Kaz leaned his cheek to Emre's palm, eyes closed briefly. "Nah. Knew you'd come for me. You always do." A quick and innocent grin followed. But the name of the game was to survive. Keep going. No matter how heavy his arms wrapped around Emre felt. No matter how much his head swam out of time with the sway of the ship. He'd keep moving until he simply collapsed. Kaz grew quiet, mainly from exhaustion and in an attempt to conserve the little energy left. No one came for them yet, and it did seem as though most of the crew was incapacitated. He smiled as Emre chattered, weary as hell but otherwise kept upright by Emre's voice as they displayed their weapons.

The organ trafficking froze Kaz. He blinked. "You're joking." Difficult to believe in so many ways, especially Georgina's involvement. But the next words from Emre were the most remarkable. An foreign emotion pinged from the top of his spine to the bottom, and back up again. Something unnameable, but knowable. Cautious, and delirious. Perhaps he was dreaming, even. Fingertips glided across Emre's shirt, over his left pec. Kaz could trace the name tattooed there if he wanted. Tired, but not enough to keep an affectionate smile off his face. "I wouldn't ever let them have it." Shelving crashing down on them was terrible timing, again. "I'm fine," Kaz assured when he was back on his feet, a hand on Emre's shoulder for balance. "You?" As had not gone unnoticed the valiant effort taken to absorb some of the chaos of the ship's violent reaction and spare Kaz. "Don't want you getting hurt either, okay?"

A finger drew over a long tear-like streak of dried blood that ran down Emre's cheek as he filled Kaz in on more. No guns. The condition of Feroze, the captain, where Georgie was. The quickest route to take once out of the supply room.

"You've got everything covered," he admired with a pat and soft scratch to Emre's side. "One thing is wrong though. She's not my Georgina." The final word. No one would touch him. Wonderfully grand promises. "No one will get near you either. Not again." Desperately Kaz wanted to know about the doctor, but soon.

They silently crept along the tilted deck. Kaz dared to catch a glimpse of 'broken' Feroze-- contorted into an almost geometric shape, a particularly wide pool of blood as a velvet red pillow beneath his head. Slow, out of time breaths rattled audibly from Feroze's throat. It was Kaz's turn to touch Emre's back, with a gentle whisper. "Look at that dumb fuck." A pause. "When all he had to do in the beginning was leave us alone. We're just daytrippers, yeah. He really fucked himself."

Up the stairs and on the bridge of the ship, a captain had bled out on the floor. Georgie was secured, as Emre said. Kaz doublechecked with him, as if suspicious of Georgina: "This where you left her? She hasn't moved?" He called out over the loud roar of an motor that idled too high. 'Uhm no, I haven't moved.' Georgie used her smallest, most feline voice. Eyes watery with a quivering lower lip. 'How could I even do anything like this? Seriously. Look at me! Kaz...'

"Well then WHO started the god damn engine, hm?" He yelled heavily, arm jutting out towards the wide window that looked out to the ocean. Kaz rushed around the slippery pile of the dead captain on the floor.

Kaz surveyed the control panel and attempted to shut off the engine. "Guess the ship hit a sandbar, sailing on its own. Em, you see anything ahead? How you think the engine was turned on, from up here yeah?" Kaz considered the array of buttons and displays on the console in front of him.

'I tried,' Georgie cast pleading green eyes up at Kaz and tugged on her bindings. 'Listen to me, okay? For real! I can tell you where we need to go. Not back to the island or anything. But really help you two get out of here. Like I was trying to do in the first place. Because believe me. More are coming. They are coming for him--' Emre '--especially, that's who they were promised.'

Kaz ground a throttle handle down in an attempt to shut off the engine and end the ear-splitting sound. Outside, the wind caught dark puffs of smoke from burning oil and blew it all through an open window.

Kaz stalked over and hunched down in front of Georgie. The strap of the speargun was slung out of the way and over his back. "You tried to kill us both, Georgina! You were gonna-gonna-- harvest his fucking organs???" An echo in the background of panic, to think that could've been Emre's fate. "Can't even imagine what the hell you were gonna do to me!"

His lip curled contemptuous and mocking. "I knew you lied back then. All the time. You thought I was a fool. Some dumb kid. And you know, maybe I was? Because I knew, Georgie. I knew you lied all the fucking time to me. And I thought maybe, maybe if I show I care she'll actually tell me the truth one day. She'll trust me enough to stop lying her ass off to me!"

Georgie's red lips pinched tight in the middle. As though she held her own tongue from lashing out. Her shoulders tensed, her hands balled into little fists, tight enough that her sharpened nails likely left imprints on the palms.

Her gaze shifted between the men. 'You're both stupid! HE took out the one guy who understood how to pilot this ship!' Georgie clearly fumed a few long seconds over Emre. Perhaps seeing whatever trade she'd made for him vanish in front of her eyes, Kaz thought.

'Then, there's you Kaz.' A few giggles turned into a string of them, and then a louder laugh. 'Thinking with your dick gets you in trouble every time. Like it did with us. So, uhm.' Her eyes darted between Emre and Kaz, maybe towards the door over their shoulders. Or maybe it was a split second of decision, a moment of distraction.

The ruse of any restraints on Georgie dropped. Evidently, she'd somehow freed herself in Emre's absence, and on their arrival made sure the men thought she was still bound. But no more. She slapped Kaz hard and then lunged at him. A clawing beastly blur of a struggle began. Georgie lashed out at Kaz with the glint of a blade in her hand. A hand shot out to grip her throat while the other fought to knock the knife away. Her piecing scream rang out. Kaz's own caught-off-guard shout from somewhere low in his gut.

He swung the speargun forward to clock her in the face with the handle of the weapon. Georgie's head snapped back and she wilted from the strike with a groan. Fast. Effective enough to see her melt in a puddle of a daze, her attack temporarily thwarted. Georgie murmured and babbled in coherently, the lids of her eyes weighted heavy by the smash to her head.

"This bitch should join Feroze, yeah?" He questioned Emre even as he already scooped Georgie up in his arms. "Come on. Did you see any life rafts or anything? Any way to get out of here? Back to land. What do you think?"

Could be because he was bleeding, felt like shit. Was about to do serious damage to someone he once never dreamed of harming. A rare thought, a bloom in a garden at night: What if they were stuck there? Like Iyaz? "We could hide. If people are really coming for you. As long as we can paddle to one of the smaller islands or the shore, we could hide."

He headed to the door with a lump of Georgie in his arms. He smiled with a rush of air through his teeth. "All I wanted to do was show you where your mum worked. What a fucking disaster."

"It's not mine," Emre replied, but the same couldn't be said for the blood and bruises staining Kaz's heavy frame. A glorious sight at first, but now Emre took an actual assessment when it was clear Kaz could still mobilize. But for how long? And how much pain was Kaz holding inside himself? Cracked ribs, possibly even some internal bruising. Maybe even bleeding. Kaz needed the medical attention, and Emre wasn't a doctor.

"Oi, 'never', really? You cheeky sod," he said with a soft, adoring half-grin. He cupped Kaz's face, wanting nothing more than to kiss the other. But Emre was sticky with sweat and other people's blood; a proper snog would have to wait, tempting as it was.

First things first. Breaking the ziptie with one of the guard's knives was easy enough, but Emre nuzzled against the whisper of Kaz's lips by his ear, the wet warmth of something more than breath. The kind of blood Emre wanted on him, as their beards shirred together, rubbing like greeting cats. Kaz told his story, and Emre grunted. "I heard you below deck, didn't I. Reckoned if you was alive enough to have a row with Georgie, I'd take out the crew first, yeah? I think I got...most of them." But Emre couldn't be sure. There might still be some of Georgina's men lurking about.

Kaz freed (all Emre wanted to do was kiss those raw wrists) and in search of a weapon. He found a fucking speargun and Emre gave an appreciative whistle at the sight of his man, wielding the weapon with a glee only Kaz would feel. The thrill of utter chaos, Kaz in full control. "Ooh hoo, look at him. My action hero, what! What," Emre softly barked.

Emre displayed the two bloody hunting knives he'd liberated from the guards from the OR, one gripped in each hand. "Fucking organ trafficker, our Georgina. She left me to donate with some fucked-up doctor on Whidbey." A fierce grin up at Kaz. "They didn't realize my heart already belongs to someone, innit."

The ship listed suddenly, like a car taking a sharp turn. The yacht moved one way, contents went the other way. This time, unbolted shelving tilted onto Kaz and Emre. He turned his shoulder to take the brunt of the weight, a sharp pain he ignored. Bracing himself to push it back into place with a loud groan. "You alright? You alright?" Emre fussed in sudden terror, reaching to help Kaz back standing. Taking time now to inspect Kaz physically for all the damage those bastards inflicted on him. "Those fucking pricks..."

The rage swelled in Emre's throat again at the memory of Kaz getting beat down. "No one's got firearms - might've run out of bullets, I reckon. One bloke had a taser on him though. I broke Feroze and threw him to the lower deck. Captain is incapacitated. Georgie's up in the captain's cabin with him...I secured her too, but...." Maybe she got loose. Or maybe one of her crew found her. Emre cursed under his breath; he should've been more thorough - but finding Kaz, here and alive and tucked into the supply closet was a joyful distraction.

He nodded, agreeing with Kaz's plan, effective and succinct as it was. "I wanted you to get the final word, with your Georgina," Emre let Kaz lead, but heightened his own alertness. We, I mean. Emre smiled, resting a hand briefly on the small of Kaz's back, fingers toying with the bumps of a long, elegant spine.

"There's a stairwell to the left, it'll take us up to the top deck, the captain's cabin and the steering, yeah? It's where I left Georgina. She better still fucking be there. Not letting you out of my sight, yeah? You handle Georgina, and I won't let anything or anyone fucking touch you."

[angelsandarsenic]

I rewatched the Minecraft surgery mod video and had an Idea (TW for surgery, trafficking, themes of blood and gore, death)

What if, like in the surgery mod, organ transplants from other species gave people some of those abilities? The results would depend on compatibility (like blood type sort of), how many organs and which ones, only making species trafficking worse so that people could make sure to get what they wanted. Of course, there would also be side affects. Endermen are some of the most popular, closely second to phantoms. Shulkers are also quite highly valued, in part because of how difficult they are to get. Blaze modifications rarely go well, and creepers are rather volatile for most, but there are always buyers out there regardless.

It started when an emergency transplant was needed to save a life; the human’s enderman partner begged the doctors to just try to make it work, no human parts were available, but they had to save their partner. A week later, the human teleported for the first time. After that surprising success, an experimental procedure was proposed where shulker skin would be used for serious skin grafts to prevent more injuries. It also worked astoundingly well. Officially, hospitals decided not to offer more procedures like that, only saving them for special cases if necessary, but people were already buzzing about the possibilities. Within two years, the black market had exploded with species trafficking, organ and other body part sales, illegal procedures and a new occupation: The Hunters. After all, like a fisherman brings his catch to market, someone has to acquire the goods.

Of course, everybody knows what’s happening—it’s hard not to be aware when you could be kidnapped and killed, simply for how you were born. Unfortunately, little is done to stop it, as usual.

And as usual, not everyone was simply going to lay down and take it. From the quickly declining non-humans, avengers rise up to hunt the Hunters. Some get legalized, most prefer not to have to dance around the law and mercilessly eliminate any of the carnage they can find—especially when other non-humans are involved.

When Technoblade was younger, he was taken. He was afraid he would die, but sometimes he thinks what really happened was worse. Early experiments with wither transplants were mainly tested on piglins, due to their durability and nether origin. Technoblade was one of the only survivors, and he makes sure that applies to all black market hunters, buyers and sellers. One day, he stumbles upon Ranboo, a young enderman who had only just been taken. It should have been relatively easy to free him and the others and move on with his life, the only catch: two boys were already trying to. Tommy and Tubbo turn out to be a nightmare to have to work with when taking down the facility, unfortunately, Technoblade quickly gets attached. Thus, Benchtrio apprentice under Technoblade how to be vigilantes, meeting others like Wilbur—a phantom who was also almost a victim, and Phil, the kind avian (not a hunted species) who simply couldn’t stand by and watch. Absolutely no one gets hurt, this definitely isn’t insanely dangerous. Found family ensues with no bad endings or trauma.

I imagine it being like Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaefer and Because Dreaming Costs Money my Dear (I sobbed so hard because of this) by eneliii on ao3

[daremartyevil]

EVERYBODY KNOWS THE DEVIL, chapter one | M. MURDOCK

➤ Chapter one: What do we know about The Doctor?

pairing: western!matt murdock x afab!reader

summary: matt had heard about the doctor and their skills. about what they could do once face to face with their nemesis. so, when the vigilante wakes up and senses the presence of his savior by his side, he tries to understand the face behind the plague doctor’s mask.

word count: 5K

warnings: no use of y/n. even with the reader being referred to by they/them, people will also refer to them as a woman because of the period, so sorry. description of violence, blood, injuries, and bruises (slightly). mention to death. misogyny. mention of the use of herbs. mention to catholicism. (two idiots in love, picking on each other)

SERIES MASTERLIST | prologue

The Doctor…

Matt remembered the first time he heard of the Doctor

A mobster was trafficking women in town. He was selling them to other groups and mobsters of neighboring towns, who'd buy them mainly for their organs

So, of course, he gave them a lesson.

He saved the women, knocked out their abductors, and put the buyers and the sellers behind bars.

Months later, he could still hear their voices, their screams, feel their relief, pain, venom.

But Matt also remembered the words of Mr. Nino — one of the biggest mobsters involved in human trafficking — during a conversation with one of his associates regarding a group he once worked with.

At first, he didn't quite get its name because Hector Nino spoke another language, but he soon discovered it to be the Serpents. But they were not the point of their conversation anyway, as they apparently were tracked down by a mysterious person wearing a plague doctor mask.

"A doctor?" Nino's fellow snorted, "Why would someone dressed as a doctor go after them? Better: how would a doctor even know about them?"

"I don't know" Nino sounded cocky, mocking his friend's skepticism, "But they aren't a normal doctor, that's for sure. This doctor met The Port last week, beat all of them right where he needed to knock them down, and got the answers that he wanted"

"So" the other one giggled, probably still too drunk from earlier to understand his friend's warning, "You're saying that they are not a doctor, but the doctor"

"Who knows" Hector shrugged, "I just thought that you needed to know about them too, this doctor seems really headstrong about what they want"

But it didn't take too long before Matt heard of the Doctor again. Every man he took down and sent to jail — drug dealers and human traffickers alike —, regularly mentioned this punisher at some point.

The Doctor was said to meticulously shoot their targets where needed, depending on they wanted to make them suffer slowly or not.

Sometimes worst, hitting their targets just enough for them to be able to speak what needed to be spoken. Nothing more.

The Doctor never aimed for the heart. They aimed at their blood vessels, bones, and specific zones, depending on what the Doctor wanted from their targets.

Answers or nothing.

Other than that, the Doctor was like a ghost, no one else would ever talk about them.

No one besides the criminal world knew about The Doctor, which sounded weird to Matt.

Sometimes, he thought that maybe he was imagining things. Since he never bumped into this punisher with a plague doctor mask nor their trail of bodies.

Until he found out about the Serpents.

Unlike their associates, Matt found nothing that could connect them to tests and experiments using humans as lab rats or to the use of illegal drugs.

At a first glance, they looked like a secluded group and only that. People didn't contact them, they were who contact you. They didn’t get involved in what was happening in the criminal world and avoided even hearing about it.

Their attention was aimed at one thing only: weapons.

Which, to Matt, sounded a lot like trouble.

After that, Matt discovered the dirt under their rug.

They were trying to create biological weapons, illegally, of course. There was a reason why they were who talked to criminals and not the opposite. If they succeeded, they’ll be the ones selling their creation to their associates.

Not only they would sell their weapons to mobsters and gangs, but also sell them to governments and several organizations.

Scientists are supposed to help people, not hurt them.

That’s why Matt went after the Serpents, even if he knew that, out there, a doctor was seeking revenge against the group. They had to face justice, be sentenced, and get sent behind bars. That was the right thing to do according to Matt.

However, he admitted that he had underestimated the situation as a whole. At The Paradiso’s, there were only the scientists that worked for the Serpents, so they knew what the chemicals there caused. So, they knew how to use that against The Devil.

Even if they had no idea about his enhanced senses, they were completely aware of what those chemicals could do to a person without any protection.

For a second, when Matt was thrown against the wall, his lungs burning and his head dizzy, he really thought this was the night he would die.

But then, someone showed up out of nowhere. Their presence emerged along with a strong scent of mint and dill, he also could smell what it felt like... Cinnamon scented wax? He was already confused and this mix... That mix didn’t help at all.

But it helped him to identify the person that arrived at the scene.

The Doctor, the one with a plague doctor mask. But not only that, their coat was covered in scented wax too.

That was the last thing Matt remembered, along with indistinct screams and a deafening explosion.

The memory of that loud sound woke him up.

The first thing that Matthew notices, it’s the sweet and delicate odor filling his surroundings.

And herbs, it seems like he is surrounded by various types of herbs. But he knows he isn’t in a vegetable garden or anything alike.

“Awake?” you tell him with a grumpy voice. He feels the sheets where he is lying, all of them made of silk, “Can you list three things that you can smell?”

“Why...?” he asks, sensing your presence.

Whoever you are, you patched him up. There are bandages all around his body: ribs, legs, chest, and even his face. You stitched up his injuries really well to not leave him with ugly scars. And, above all, he almost doesn’t feel any pain, only a mild discomfort.

Wait... His face. If his face has bandages-

Matt raises his hands to his eyes, his blindfold isn’t there anymore.

“You saw my face,” he mutters under his breath.

“I had to make sure you were conscious, the last time you woke up you weren’t here” you answer, with a tone of impatience enveloping each one of your words towards him, “I asked you to list before, but I suppose that you’re blind”

“What?” now, Matt is even more confused.

He’s in a new place, new smells...

And with someone who figured him out.

“Most people don’t like that I keep the lights off in this house” you start to explain.

Then, a smell of chamomile approaches the air and distracts him for a couple of seconds.

Matt looks up, sensing your gentle silhouette with flames all around you, an opposite of your irritated posture. Quickly, he listens to the way your blood runs through your veins and against your wounds, most of them made by bullets or just bruises — like his injuries, all of your wounds are well treated.

You're pouring yourself a cup of tea while glaring at the vigilante. His unfocused brown gaze against your shoulder, the strokes of his dark chestnut hair blazing against the one candle that you have lit up... What an idiot, you think by yourself before turning your attention back to what you’re saying.

Matt has almost forgotten about his question to you.

“So..." you puff. "Aside from you acting like you didn't see anything when you woke up before? You don’t even talk about how I only have one candle lit, which usually everybody complains about it. What makes me wonder if you are blind or too oblivious”

“No, no. I’m legally blind, yes” he slightly shakes his head, turning his attention to any minimal sound, “I have some questions”

“Of course, you have” you retort, “I don’t promise to answer everything, but first-”

A short but minimally shrill sound can be heard.

Tilting his head to your figure made of calm flames, Matt breathes in the scent of mint present and glued to your skin along with the chamomile around both of you. The chamomile is coming from something you’re holding.

A cup of tea. And there is also a teaspoon in your other hand.

“Did you just hit this teaspoon to your cup?”

“Yes, and your hearing is good” now, your voice isn’t raspy and irritated to his ears anymore. Well, not at all, it’s a little softer and kind of... Concerned? “You passed out after the explosion because of the sound it made, so I cleaned your ears, patched it along with some herbs that I know and it helps the hearing, so it’s good to know that they aren’t hurting... And that you can listen beside the herbs in them”

Matt reaches for his ears, feeling the gauzes on his ears. Oh, that makes sense, it explains why he smells herbs everywhere.

There were times that Matt didn’t appreciate his enhanced senses, others where he was grateful to have them. Now, he thanks God to bless him with this gift.

“The explosion” the vigilante states, sitting on the bed and closing his hand at the silk sheets in two fists, “Did you cause it?”

“Yes, and as a bonus, I saved your ass” you force his hands to grab the other cup with hot tea, “So I’d accept a ‘thank you, huh?”

“You’re the Doctor” finally, Matt says it out loud. The mint scent that you carry and your medical knowledge to take care of his injuries and yours, are hints enough to him. This if he ignores another fact, “And a woman?”

“No” you deadpan him, fixing the bandages on his ribs for him to flinch on purpose, “I’m the fucking doctor that saved your life.”

Matt nods, your heart rate increased with rage when he referred to you as a woman. Noted.

“So... You’re the Doctor” he dares to state it again, analyzing the cup of tea on his hands to make sure that is safe before drinking it, “You’re getting famous among the bad guys”

“A shame that they decided to refer at me by this damn name, do I look like a vigilante?” you snort, rolling your eyes, “My fellows doctors won’t like to know that the name for our profession is related to a person tracking down disgusting parasites”

“You mean the Serpents?” while talking to you, Matt searches for the strong smell of red that comes from his blindfold, the one he is too familiar with.

There, he cocks his head, it’s on top of a corner table in the room.

“Except for their old associates that you sent to jail? Who else could it be?” you say in annoyance, “Which leads me to my question: why were you at Paradiso’s?”

“I haven’t asked my questions yet” he shakes his head, attempting to get up from the bed, “Why did you take my blindfold?”

Matt attempts because even if he almost doesn’t feel the pain from his injuries, that was before. As he tries to get up, every single one of them tempts to tear apart the work done by the Doctor. The vigilante hisses to the pain and rests a hand in the bruises on his ribs.

“Stop moving, Devil” you hurry to hold his shoulders and slowly lie him back to the silk sheets, taking his tea off of his hands, “I already told you, I needed to take care of your ears and the fucking concussion, I couldn’t do it with a blindfold and a hat all over your head. Now, relax before you fuck with one of your stitches”

The Devil presses his lips together in a thin line as he gulps, he doesn't want to know if the rumors of your temper are true. Although, until now, no one of them was wrong.

“Fine” Matt mutters, trying to get his cup of tea back but you ignore him with a snort, “You shouldn’t have seen my face”

“Okay, listen to me because I won’t repeat” you leave his cup aside, far away from his grasp, and follow to where you left his blindfold, “One: you were all fucked up, I needed to help you because it’s my duty as a doctor to keep you above snakes, you know? So this means to take this fucking blindfold out of your face, are you at sea, or do you understand?”

Again, Matt rather nods than opens his mouth.

He's blind, but that doesn't stop him from feeling your urge to murder him despite your doctor's ethics.

“Good,” you fake a smile, “Two: I don’t care about who you are, Devil, I really don’t. What I care about is to you hazing a tenderfoot at me and getting in my way to the Serpents”

You don’t even notice that you’re moving your hands exasperated as you speak. And all that Matt can do is watch your flamed frame in awe, he is ignoring the fact that you're basically yelling at him, too much distracted by your fire.

Gosh, you're fit to be tied.

“Hm,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “Is that all?”

Unlike what you'd expect, his tone isn't harsh like yours but... Smooth. His words are like a bucket of cold water on your head, full of calmness and patience. You wouldn’t dare to say that he seemed like a big soft boy, he’s the fucking Devil.

Yet, he acts as if you weren't within an inch of hanging him with that damn red blindfold.

“No” you speak out, “I’m not done yet, three: here’s what we gonna do, you’ll rest here today and after that, I don’t want to see your face again. Fine? Fine”

There’s a second of silence followed by a beat, “Can I speak now?” then, the Devil innocently asks.

“Why not, huh? Go ahead, please” you pull a chair from the corner of the room and sit down by his side, throwing his blindfold on his face.

“First,” he catches his blindfold from his face, sensing the strong smell that he associates with the crimson red of it. But this familiar scent doesn't rid him of the smell of herbs in this room, “Don’t call me Devil, please, it sounds strange.”

“It’s what everybody calls you” you knit your brows, “The Deuce who tricked the Kingpin and gives hope to this town”

“Well, as you said before, we don’t choose what they’ll call us. Despite how much we try to” he sighs.

“Oh, there’s no ‘we’, I’m not a vigilante” you wave him off, shaking your head, “You’re staying at my own ace in the hole today, so I need to call you by something”

The red vigilante gulps, worrying his lips as he gives it a thought.

He can’t tell you his name, it isn’t even an option. But you have already seen his face and, although you seem to know Hell's Kitchen well, you didn't recognize him. Which of two, one: you're not from here and you won't be around for long, or you live under a rock.

Either way, if he hasn't bumped into you all this time, it's not after today that he would. Right?

And you don't look like you're going to yell to the entire state about the Devil being blind — you’re worried about him getting involved with your plans and not his identity. So he doubts you'd tell anyone about the Devil’s secrets.

What could go wrong?

“You can call me Matt” he licks his lips, doing his best to put on his blindfold despite the gauzes and bandages on his face, “And you?”

He pays attention to your heartbeat, even if you’re annoyed by his presence, it’s steady. It slightly increases when you listen to his name, not by recognition or fear, but by surprise. Repeating his name in a whisper, you slowly realize that he didn’t lie, which is weird.

You just saved his life, any doctor with the same morals as yours would do the same. So, where does this fraction of trust come from?

Wherever it’s, you try your best not to mind that small gesture.

“To you? I’m only a doctor” you easy answer Matt, and he frowns, a hint of disappointment is in his unfocused eyes, “Doc if you really want to shove all the formality in the horse shit”

“Doc?” Matt lifts a brow and tastes the name on the tip of his tongue, he likes it, “Okay, doc, sorry about the second thing that I’ll bring out but I won’t stop chasing the Serpents. They need to face justice for what they have done and what they’re trying to do”

You shake your head in disbelief, holding back a bitter smile.

Why God? That fucking vigilante can’t be serious.

"Justice? And where did I say that I don't believe that they deserve it too?" you say dramatically, pulling the support table near you and analyzing your herbs, "They deserve justice for sure when it's a bullet in their heads "

"That's not how it works" Matt purses his lips and faces your direction, feeling all your hatred towards the Serpents. That's not about justice, "What did they do to you?"

"It's none of your business" you glare at him, searching for the flask with the mix that you had done early, "What is of your business is keep yourself out of my way and away from the Serpents, hm? Can you do that and forget about me? I'd thank you a lot, Mr. Matt"

“I’m afraid that it won’t happen, Doc” Matt matches your sarcastic smile and, even if you can’t see his gaze, you can imagine the spark behind it. You just can snicker at the situation you’re in, vigilantes are so stubborn, you had to have predicted that, “I can’t let you kill them”

“Why not?” you ask, grabbing the flask that you were searching for and examining it.

The red vigilante knows that he should have paid more attention to your heartbeat increasing for a moment, but your scent mixed up with your herbs easily distracts him. It isn’t exactly intoxicating, not compared to what he had faced at the Paradiso’s. Yet, it’s something, puts him at sea.

Cinnamon envelops the tip of your fingers, you don’t use it just to cover your coats but to season almost everything you eat. Probably, it’s a habit of yours. There’s also that mint scent, it embraces you, from your head to the hem of your trousers. It’s addicting, that bitter smell with the sweet from the cinnamon, plus your other herbs: chamomile, basil, rosemary, lavender, myrtle, etc.

It’s too much, in a good way.

“Why not? “ he repeats your question, snapping back to reality, “Because it will destroy you, every time that you’ll look to your hands, you will remember the lives you took. The second chance that you took away from them and their families. Every day, it’ll suffocate you, killing you slowly”

“I hope it does” you whisper, taking off a portion from what is inside the flask on your hand, “Do you want a last piece of advice? Find a way to protect your nose”

Belladonna.

A powerful somniferous, indeed. A Shakespearean weapon to shut up stubborn flannel mouths that want to be a bump in your road.

In small portions, it can kill a baby, so you were careful to calculate the dose while Matt seemed distracted. Then, you just shoved it against his nose for a second, listening to his heartbeat to make sure that he’d only fall asleep.

Which he does, peacefully.

“If I am not going to heaven, I won’t go to hell now either” you huff, falling back to your chair.

From everything that you have done since you started your life as “The Doctor” per se, what you did a couple of hours ago is the craziest of all.

Like… You never imagined that one day you’d get rid of the Devil. Even more, that you would succeed in such a task without killing him.

If you’re being honest, you didn’t trust yourself at first not to put your hands around his throat and strangle him to death.

But you made it work.

You walk downtown, pretending to not notice some perplexed looks from the citizens quietly criticizing you for wearing trousers in public. There’s one main focus on your mind: today it’s God's favorite day of the week.

Well, that’s not exactly the only thing on your mind, it would be a lie to say.

From the moment that you kicked the Devil’s ass off your life, you are rewinding what you did step by step. You have to make sure that you did everything right, assure yourself that he won’t cross your path again in a near future.

First, you wave to the baker as you view the church from afar, you kept him unconscious. You measured the correct doses of belladonna so as not to harm his immune system until the Sunday sun began to rise.

That was your advantage against him. When the vigilante woke up, he didn't seem aware that it had been almost a day since the night at Paradiso's.

Second, someone whistles as you pass in front of them, you dressed Matt in some old clothes you had in what you could call home. A shirt, trousers, boots and even a vest and hat. You were being kind of generous at this point.

But it wasn't like you were going to abandon a blind man on the street, naked and with a bag of his vigilante clothes. So that’s what you did: you dressed him properly, took off some of his bandages, and hid his vigilante’s clothes (including the damn blindfold) in a bag that you’d leave with him.

You knew some of the staff from the hospital well enough to know how sorry they would be for a poor blind man who was beaten up outside a bar by a bunch of drunks near your house. They would understand that no one could know about you taking him to your house and taking care of his wounds, what would that do to your reputation as a woman in society? What people would say?

Th- In fact, you follow a different way to church just to do your jack on the man who was following you — the one who whistled at you before — without being seen by prying eyes. Now, you can keep going: three, you carried him to your caravan, greeted your horse — Archimedes — and made your way to the hospital closest to the center of Hell's Kitchen.

Oh, God have mercy on you.

If you weren't a doctor, you would have been a good actor.

In downtown, Matt would easily find help and cash to return to his house and keep with whatever his life is. And you won’t need to worry about him anymore.

Amen.

You arrive at the church, smiling back at some of the few faces present that morning. Huh, you think to yourself while you get rid of the blood on your knuckles, where are the fervent Catholics from this town?

Isn't their blessed day?

Anyway, you make your way straight to the confessional.

Sister Maggie, who is talking to some of the children from Clinton Church, glances at you and where you are going to and holds back a giggle at the scene. She doesn’t need to ask you about what happened Friday to know that your plan went wrong, neither she looks disappointing about you not having soaked your hands in the serpents’ blood.

What a debauched nun.

Your force a smile in her direction, one that without saying a single word vocalizes all the curses that knot your tongue. Yet, Sister Maggie is unshaken when she smiles back at you.

“Good morning, Father Lantom” you mutter, taking a seat at the confessional and turning to see his face behind it.

The old man whispers your first name, surprised by your presence. Thinking that after what could have happened on Friday, you'd never come back to town, you’d never come back to town again, he's not wrong to be surprised. To the point of saying your name? No, he's definitely not wrong, so you don't blame him.

If Father Lantom is about to ask you about what happened Friday, you interrupted him.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. At least, I believe I may have sinned,” you lick your lips, snapping each of the fingers of your hands and looking down at your crucifix, “I didn’t do what I said that I would do last Friday night, God didn't let me do it. They say we, doctors, have been blessed by God with this gift of helping people and saving lives, you know?”

“What do you mean by that, my child?” the Father asks, his words filling the silence and encouraging you to keep going.

“It’s not a gift, Father, but a curse. He gives us a doctor’s soul and heart, it forces us to do what we must do so we can live one day more without a burden on the conscience. No matter what we want but our duty. So He put someone on my way, knowing too well that I’d attend my duty”

“If He requested for you to save someone’s life instead of taking the lives of dozens more, I don't understand why you say you sinned” there’s a hint of fear in Father’s voice as if he knows that is a reason why you said what you said.

And he is afraid of what you could have done.

“I may have saved the Devil, Father, that’s what happened” you clench your hand in your crucifix, “That was my sin, God put his favorite in my path and forced me to save him hoping his words would change my mind”

Father Lantom sighs, relieved and worried. He's smart enough to know you're referring to the town’s vigilante, but also smart enough to know there's a storm inside your head.

“And it changed?” he questions, quickly looking at you and the confusion all over your face.

“It can’t change my mind” that isn’t the answer to his question but it answers anyway, you know this, “I have a mission, Father, and no one can stop me now. Not even God or the Devil”

“There’s a reason for God had stopped you and crossed your way with someone else’s. No one must give in to their demons, my child, once you do it, you become one of them. Those you hate so much” Father Lantom rubs his face, pondering his words and waiting for a reaction coming from you.

But when it doesn't, he continues.

“He led you to someone and you saved them. Not because He asked you to or because you were afraid of the burden it would bring if you didn't. Because you wanted to, because you’re compassionate and care about others’ life and you fear that about you, you fear your light. You do not fear how the Devil’s words could change your mind...” whilst Father Lantom speaks, you're stunned by his words.

You’re left to clench your hands in fists, not able to retort him, “You fear that you needed someone else to tell you what you already know but aren’t brave enough to admit.”

Okay, that’s too much.

You tighten your jaws, trying to think about what you can say to prove Father that he’s wrong about you. But you can’t. He read your fucking mind and said your thoughts out loud, those that you attempted to bury six feet under.

Clearly, it didn’t work.

Every day and night, you find yourself watching the sun rising and setting itself, remembering how the Serpents destroyed your life. How they took everything from you, even your will to live.

So, it’s only right for you to take everything from them too... Right? Their plans, their weapons, their reputation, and their lives.

Then, why thinking about it doesn’t help you to sleep at night?

You shake off from where that line of reasoning would take you. No, you're so close to the end, you can't let yourself be tripped over the fucking catholic stones that God is throwing around you.

Sorry, God. I know that today is special to you, but I won’t fall for that.

Not again.

“Thank you for listening to me, Father, but I have nothing to admit” you get up from your sit and fix your sleeves, “I must save lives, to help God to offer second chances for the ones who need it. But not everyone deserves it”

Once again, Father Lantom calls for your name but you ignore it, making your way out of the confessional.

Don’t hold your breath, God.

However, before you reach the exit from the Clinton Church, someone bumps against your shoulder and stops you where you are. It gives you a second to realize that you stop because that same person is holding you in place with a hand on your shoulder.

With an enviable strength, you must confess.

“Hey, I’m not in a good mood today, so if you could-” when you raise your eyes at the person in front of you, everything stops. You’re afraid that even your heart has stopped.

You gotta be kidding me, God. Really? You really had to do this move?

His brown eyes are hidden behind a pince-nez with dark lenses that reflects your shock. If you could see the way he is staring at you, you’d have hit him for being so smug about it.

Along with that, he is dressing differently from the last time you saw him — which was five hours ago. He is... Well-put-together, his clothes consist of a dark grey coat, a simple and white shirt, a red tie add to his looks with the silk stockings and dark shoes. Black, grey and red, who would guess?

He has his backs turned to the sun, holding a cane on the hand that isn’t pinning you in place. On purpose or not, he compels you to see how the sun caresses the chestnut strands of his hair, making them a lot redder than they are.

Matt is, truly, the fucking Devil.

"Doc” he offers you a cocky smile, tilting his head slowly.

“Dickens” you mutter it under your breath, staring at the crucifix that the red vigilante wears.

You should have guessed that the Devil was catholic.

Taglist: @waspswidows​​ @druigswitch​​ @underoos-shield​​ (if you want to be tag let me know! send me an ask and I’ll add you!!)

[a-lil-perspective]

So uh… would you like to hear about Vigilante!Crosshair?

Well I’m gonna talk about it anyway. XD

So the concept has been spinning in my head for a long time now. I’m only just started to piece it all together and reinforce my points.

The timeframe is set after the war, Crosshair’s got a Cyare and things have settled but he’s more restless, more driven, than he’s ever been. I’ve touched on this in my “Domestic!Crosshair Headcanons” and I did so with this context in mind, because it leads up to his vigilante undertakings.

He does so without his Cyare’s knowledge.

And it causes a lot of strife, in their marriage—he’s gallivanting around the Galaxy and she’s not a clue where he is, when he’s coming home, if he’s coming home. He comes back at all hours of the night, disheveled looking and furtively cradling his weapons. She can only assume the worst.

And this becomes a regular occurrence. He’s stressed beyond belief but won’t utter a peep as to why. He keeps his belongings—weapons and armor and devices—hidden from her. After several months of this, of him shutting her down anytime she asks, of tiptoeing through the house after ensuring she’s asleep, she’s had it. She wants to know what he’s up to.

I’m sure you do, too.

Crosshair has gotten himself involved with the syndicates. He’s entered their world of trafficking—as an enemy. He’s commissioned by families/clans/organizations to intercept and rescue personnel—mainly children—from the clutches of these traffickers.

And so you can see why he keeps this information from his Cyare. To protect her. Because he’s shown his face in that world. They know of the ever elusive sniper with the highest body count, who continuously robs them of men, of credits, of assets. Crosshair can’t let them discover the people he’s associated with. Certainly not his precious wife.

It looks bad, his secrecy, and he ends up hurting her in the process of keeping her safe. I’m writing a whole fic about this; both Crosshair’s vigilante jobs and his marital strife. It’s really heavy and I try to tread carefully with angst nowadays but I’m excited. Not sure when it’ll be finished but. Have a little snippet maybe???

(Also this is Reader insert here and that’s tbd but for now let’s just roll with it XD)

———

He returns at an unholy hour, and this time you’re ready, you’ve anticipated it, your mind has been conjuring up one odious context after the next concerning the nature of his whereabouts. It’s whisked your insides and when he finally traipses through the front door, you nearly keel at his feet.

“Didn’t stay up just for me, did you sweetheart?”

He’s barely set down his pack—his rifle—before you’re throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close, struggling to keep the lump in your throat at bay.

“You smell like gunfire,” you breathe in his ear, accusatory and aghast all at once. It lingers on him, ozone and metal and skirmish. It’s the mediator between you two and your own personal informant, pointing you to his unspoken deeds. You pull him closer, an unconscious act to keep him in the sanctity of your arms lest he slip away again.

Not slip away. Leave.

You suddenly question the difference.

He kisses you in lieu of an explanation, with his whole chest and it’s gallant like you remember, his lips hot and lingering and Crosshair is the only syllable you mewl in the tender space between.

His lips are a tack as they travel painstakingly up your jaw to the lobe of your ear where his low hum is a delicacy reverberating down your spine, making your knees shake. It takes everything in you to cant your neck away, but there are questions in need of answers that are, unfortunately, impervious to his deft love-making.

“Where have you been?”

It comes out with a needy lilt that you loathe.

His arms are loving at your back, a juxtaposition to the blood they shed elsewhere. “Don’t worry about it.”

It’s scripted and frivolous—and downright stupid. He knows this and yet has the audacity to foist it upon you anyway.

“That’s not fair.”

Crosshair separates you from his chest then, and his actions speaks for themself. His hands shift to your waist to establish a modicum of connection, just a faint one. He apprises you of his incentive without ever uttering a word, and it’s your job to assimilate the nuances; it’s just who you were as a couple.

It didn’t make it any less heart wrenching, any less frustrating.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You’re unerring in his sharp gaze, his warm hands that now cup either side of your face. “Don’t keep secrets from me.”

His lips press into a grim line, because it’s a protest familiar in the air, but one he quickly grows tired of. “It’s for your own good.”

You gawk, for only a second, as a stubbornness that only ever flourishes in his presence comes effervescing to the surface all at once before you can redact.

“You don’t get to decide what’s good for me, Crosshair. I am your wife.”

But dammit if you haven’t had it up to here with him, his crypt.

His face pinches in anger at your outburst. He releases you, and takes two measured steps back that feels like he’s created a chasm between.

“Exactly.”

He leaves you in the devastation of your fury, the wet kind that constricts your throat and streams hot and plentiful down your face; the erasure of any affection you might’ve needed from him that night. You suddenly want nothing to do with his secrecy, the makeshift heroism he craves. You go your separate ways then, him to the bedroom, and you to the living room where you remain the rest of the night with only your soft sobs to keep you company, and him his.

[frogblast-the-ventcore]

So I said I'd share my own personal V's thoughts on this matter eventually. Here I am with some time to spare, so here goes. First, my V, Valerie D'Angelo, Exotic ex-Arasaka counter-intel, and current near full borg level murder machine:

Valerie's personal "most hated gangs" list:

#1 Scavs - bc kidnapping and vivisecting people for their cyberware is incredibly fucked up, and for someone as chromed as Valerie is, that's a major nightmare scenario; as well, Valerie has a deeply personal grudge against them for the several times she's had to clear out Scav dens - and that one time she got tricked into nearly being a victim herself... Johnny never lets her hear the end of that mistake.

#2 VDBs - bc Valerie does NOT take being fucked over well, and these idiots tried to do it twice. Also messing with the Blackwall to deliberately cause the robopocalypse is just batshit insane. The Dogtown VDBs are, in her mind, a subgroup that Valerie is a bit less hostile to on the whole though.

#3 Maelstrom - an entire gang of borderline cyberpsychos, who are ALSO fucking around with the Blackwall? Yeah, no, not a lot of sympathy there (as her Player; this is extremely hypocritical of Valerie, considering she's nearly Smasher levels of chromed out underneath her Exotic bioware skin and fur - it is very much a viseral reaction to the extremely dehumanizing and very unaesthetic nature of their cyberware, which stems from growing up in a fairly pampered Corpo lifestyle). The heinous shit they pulled with forcibly augmenting those monks really pissed her off too. Maelstrom are in third for Valerie only because there are a small handful of members who are (relatively) chill: Brick and Dum-Dum mainly.

#4 Tyger Claws - snuff films, sex trafficking, and drug manufacturing, while being linked to Arasaka? Fuck 'em. Valerie may have been a suit (and a good one at that) but she finds the things the Tygers do to be too heinous to ignore. Her being involved with two members/acquaintances of the Mox (Judy and Rita), definitely factors in here, too, given the war between the two gangs.

#5 Wraiths - the absolute worst of the Nomads, who to Valerie, are pretty much just Badlands Scavs. Panam's and the Aldecaldos vendetta against them has certainly also rubbed off on Panam's panther girlfriend.

#6 6th Street - violent assholes who hide behind their veteran status to justify a bunch of bullshit standard gang behavior. Valerie is, perhaps unusually for NC, quite the NUSA patriot, hence why she backs and works for Peralez in his mayoral campaign. But Valerie just sees 6th Street as having fallen from their original somewhat benevolent goals as proof - NC going independent only ever caused harm.

#7 BARGHEST - Valerie, having served in Arasaka's military forces, respects that Barghest remains (mostly) an organized military force. She also finds their arms dealing not completely objectionable, having experience with such things at Arasaka.

#8 Animals - For Valerie, the Animals are an interesting case: they do a lot of the standard gang stuff, but she mostly sees them being security and bouncers and such, which gives her less evidence to hold things against them. Plus, they're the only gang that recruits Exotics, which gets them points in her eyes, being an Exotic herself. Also they have Rhino, who is an awesome rhino Exotic, and a graceful loser, and a lovely girlfriend. Also Emmerick from the Afterlife, who is very chill with Valerie.

#9 NCPD - for Valerie, most of the NCPD are too corrupt and way too trigger happy; however, there are some good ones around, her friends River and Bill, her neighbor Barry, etc. She evaluates much more on a case-by-case basis with the NCPD.

#10 Valentinos - sure, they're ruthless as fuck, but they actually try and be a community force too, and for Valerie that's important. Plus her best choom Jackie had ties with them.

#11 Moxes - bc to Valerie, she has so many friends in the Moxes, she doesn't even really think of them as a gang. Plus, as stated before, Valerie is intimately involved with both Judy, who works with them, and Rita, who is the bouncer at Lizzie's, so... Definitely some bias there, but backed up by pretty solid facts.

This poll is looking at in-universe perspectives. I'll do an out of universe player version of the poll later.

I'm interested to see the results! Please rb for bigger sample size! I will probably share my V's/my own personal player rankings later on.

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Knowning myself' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

'Knowing myself'

Chapter Summary : Bell is coming back from her first mission and work still need to be done....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3200

--------------------------------------------

I can say that this first mission went quite well for me and the others, I didn't have any scratchs or wounds on me and for that, let's just say that it was a success. However, we didn't learn a lot from the guy who was 'in charge' of the warehouse, having just a simple nickname : 'Bonnie Blue' and before he was able to tell us more, he changed the subject and because of me, I accidentally caused him to eat a cyanure capsule after punching him in the teeth. It was just an little success then.

After Adler told us with the most annoying voice to leave the warehouse as he proclaimed that he will make sure that all of the paperworks in here were seized and then sent to us back at the safehouse, we were obliged to comply to his order and we left the warehouse with Woods & Mason as Sims stayed around with Adler, awaiting for the CIA teams to come take the place over and use these guns Perseus was using for their own business somewhere around the world.

The travel back to the safehouse was pretty well for me. We used our car to leave the are and this time, I was in the backseats with Park as Woods and Mason decided to take the front seats with Mason driving. The first minutes were basically them complimenting me about my first mission as Park was just next to me, giving me a look that could have said 'You're not alone, Yirina, see ?'. and she was right even if she's the one for the moment I can fully trust to help me about my life. The guys are good with me but I think I should take time with them to open myself.

After these few minutes, the talks were replaced by some loud rock music from the courtesy of Woods. That wasn't my type of music but it was nice nonetheless, it's just that Woods put it very loudly in the car and it was like making some ringing bells in my ears but thanksfully, the ride finished pretty quickly as we were arrived at the safehouse, stopping those weird sensations with my ears before we left the car and got back inside, taking our equipment with us and put it back inside the armory.

Then, me & Park got next to the dashboard, looking at it, wondering maybe what was Perseus plan by doing arms trafficking and for that, we have to wait for Adler and Sims to come back.

"So, impressions about the mission ?" Park asked as we were both leaned on Adler's desk, calling me by surprise and breaking me in my thoughts.

"Well, to be honest.." I started, removing my right hand glove off and keeping it in hand"I hoped that we could have better from the guy." I looked at my right hand, a small sad look on my face. "It's my fault."

"Yirina, I already told you but we couldn't know of that." She said, having saw my face, trying to have the smiling face back on me. "We are going to know more with the paperwork Adler will bring back with him."

"Let's hope we will have something that will help us about Perseus arms trafficking and maybe on that 'Bonnie Blue'." I told her with an neutral voice, slowly getting more well but still struggling to show it. "Have you heard of that name before ?" I questioned her, putting my eyes on her.

"No clue." She simply replied "It could be anyone and let's cross our fingers that we will have just one thing that could identify that 'Bonnie Blue'."  She looked at me, sort of worried "Do you think that....it could be Freya ?"

"To give you my opinion : I don't think so." I said, not even sounding of my own answer "I hope not." I really hoped that Freya wasn't that 'Bonnie Blue', I can't think that Freya is able to do this in the Perseus Collective...well, in my point of view....

"We have just to wait now." She then put her hand in her pocket to grab a pack of cigarettes in hands and took one of them before looking at me "Smoke ?" She asked as she was handing another cigarette to me. I didn't remember that I was smoking before but, we will see that.

"Why not ?" I exclaimed, taking the cigarette in hand before putting it between my lips. She took a lighter up and light her and my cigarette before putting it back.

"So, 'The Winter Soldier'." She said, looking at the ceilling after blowing smoke from her mouth "Quite a nickname you had, you said that you hate it."

"Yes." I replied, blowing some smoke too before I start to slowly cough because of the cigarette....been a long time, I suppose ?..... I quickly catch my breath and took back control "Got it after a operation where I save Freya from the NIS...." I looked at the ground, little ashamed "I...I did slaughter the NIS agents tasked to capture after she was badly hurt."

"Shit, that's why the people I contacted yesterday in the NIS wasn't so willing to talk about Freya." She said, concerned "They told me that she was diasvowed in 1976 after they discovered her double agent status but then, nothing on her during the following years...like if she has never existed before."

"So, it was in 1976..." I whispered to myself, remembering the memory where Freya come inside my office in the Lubyanka and first met Zasha, that's when she told me the NIS found her true status.

"Anyway, you were great today." She exclaimed with an proud look, changing the subject of the conversation and I think she did a great choice. "You make me proud." She nodded before the garage door of the safehouse opened : it was already Adler and Sims, each one having at least 2 cardbox in their hands.

"Can you back off from my office ?" Adler ordered, walking towards his desk as we got away with it and as always with him, I rolled my eyes annoyed...until he suddenly put one of the cardbox, poking it at my chest.

"Hey." I said, taking the box in my hands as he was going to drop close to me in a second

"Make yourself useful for once." He said harshly, walking with the other box at Park's desk and putting it on top of it "Work on it." Is he really going to treat me like shit everyday ? I guess so and I will have to do with it and I've got Park to support me in case I decided to tie him up again back into that room.

"Dickhead." I thought to myself, I was almost going to say it loudly.

Adler walked back at his desk, leaving me to go to work on those cardbox full of paperwork seized in that Perseus warehouse and I know that it would take time for me to get it done....since there are 4 cardbox full of papers, transmissions and anything that could help us to have a better lead on breaking down the arms trafficking organized by Perseus and that strange woman they are calling 'Bonnie Blue'.

Hopefully, Park was there to help me and surprisely, Mason and Woods offered to give me and Park more few hands around to help me with the numerous things we have to do as Adler....well, it's better to not know what he's doing as we're going to do the work for him. We started things slowly at first, focusing on the cardbox Adler give me brutally and that first box was interesting : it was talking about some transmission made by I suppose to be 'Bonnie Blue' with her buyers who were only mentioned by their initials. Nothing to help us about where those buyers were coming from and there were only three buyers on those documents.

The second box was filled of register talking about the weapons Perseus was getting : it was mostly russian weaponry like AK-47 and some RPGs but it was gettin intriguing as there were also american guns and british guns too in their stocks. Discovering the box further allowed us to find out that Perseus had succeeded to have some contacts within the US Army and the British army who are supplying Perseus around the world. By luck, there were the names of those implicated.

Thanks to that info, Park decided to put out some calls to the MI6, giving them the names of the british officers involved with Perseus and to give them indications to deal with thoses persons as she exclaimed to stay in West-Berlin and I knew that she was staying for me. For the US side of it, Woods gave the names of the US Army involved with Perseus to Adler and since I preferred to focus on working my ass around, I didn't know what did he do with them...maybe some calls like Park ? Can't tell.

I checked the time rapidly, realizing that we did take at least a long time as the evening was coming down outside. We've been working on two box for hours but we were making progress anyway. The third box helped us to know more about the buyers without allowing us to identify them. It was mainly about what the buyers were using. The first one called R.D was buying the americans guns, another one called A.R was buying russian weapons and the last one H.S was using the british guns.

When we finished the third box, it was running late and the others including Park decided to take a rest as we have worked non-stop since hours but me, I wanted to continue so I decided to stay on working on the last cardbox to discover. As everyone was going to sleep, Park tried to convince me to go to sleep but she couldn't succeed into changing my mind. She know that I need to work but she doesn't want me to freak out and I understand her. However, it was better to get everything done before tomorrow.

Once everyone was out and leaving me alone, I decided to go grab a coffee to try to hold for a part of the night and when I was able to finish it, I go back to Park's desk that we were now sharing who was now the only place around the safehouse who were using the light. I was ready to continue until I hear some footsteps coming out of the dorm. I stopped myself to check who it was.

"Mason." I said as he was more visible with the light of the desk, seeing him entirely.

"Yirina." He was sounding jumpscared by me, thinking maybe that everyone was in the dorm "Why you're still working ?" He asked, getting his hands against the wall near the desk

"It's better that everything is done for tomorrow." I replied before I took a sip from my coffee.

"It's just one box remaining, we will doing it in no time." He exclaimed, little laughing.

"Maybe...." I started, raising an eyebrow "But I prefer to have it done." I then gestured him to get a seat, not wanting him to stay up for too long but he politely refused. "Why did you came ?"

"Just needed to take some fresh air." He responded, looking at the garage door "Doesn't feel good since some time."

"Really, is there a problem ?"  I said, curious. In my head, I remembered what Park told me about Mason and I started to think that it was because of that "Bad memories ?" He nodded

"Yes, I don't want to talk about it." He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. He wasn't willing to say a thing and with my case, I can know why. "It's better for you to not know."

"I understand." I bit my lips, looking at the paperwork from the fourth box that I have put all around the desk

"Guess it's hard for you to tell yourself that you were an Perseus agent." He told me as Park told him along with Woods of everything. At hearing this, I stopped myself as I was going to get back to work.

"Yes, it was hard." I said, getting comfy in my chair "There's things I doesn't want to think right now."

"Do you have family back in Russia ?" He asked, getting my attention on him

"No, lost my parents at four years old, only my friends were my family and I don't know if they are alive or missing." I responded, my voice almost cracking

"And....and you have someone ?" He started, looking around him "You know, a boyfriend..."

"No, never had anyone." I exclaimed, taking my cup of coffee in hands. Like Park said to me, I decided to kept our relation secret....and also my sexuality to the others.

"I was thinking, Yirina." He raised an eyebrow, getting my attention back again on him "Why Park is always near you or close to you ?"

"When I came back, she told me that she wanted to do her best to stay with me and to relive the friendship we had 3 years ago." I replied, not mentioning my true relationship with her...I'm keeping my promises up...."I know that bad things happened but she was the only one to apologize and I accepted them because she believed in me."

"For that, I can say that you're right." Mason nodded in approval "She maybe helped Adler but....she's an good person and she showed it to me and Woods....and you too."

"Really ?" I said, curious

"Yeap, like I said, she has an good heart and I think Woods already told you that but you're lucky to have her at your side against Adler." He affirmed before looking at the garage door direction again "Gonna leave you to work, I'm gonna take some fresh air. Good night, Yirina."

"Night, Mason." I smiled as he was walking to get outside leaving me alone at Park's desk to work.

I tried to get back focus on trying to found out more about what the last box could have give to us but then, I started to feel very tired. Even if I drink a coffee, my eyes were feeling weak, blinking multiples times. I was feeling that my face was all white and I realized that I really need some sleep but my leg weren't cooperative anymore, causing me to think to sleep on the desk. I put the hood of my jacket on, put my arms on the desk and put my head in them, trying to go to sleep.

It was looking like a busy day inside the Lubyanka for me : going to talk with some agents about their works, giving them advices to improve their skills in cryptography, never raising the voices to those who didn't had a good work and giving some reports to some officers that I could see around. I was wearing my KGB uniform without the jacket and thanksfully, I wasn't wearing an skirt.

I was finished to talk with an officer in the archives room when I got out of it to return back to my office, checking my watch to see that it was nearly the end of the day of work. There weren't a lot of people anymore except for guards along the way until I saw a young redhead woman, holding a notebook in her arms and looking around, searching maybe for someone just at one hallway from my office.

"Hi." The woman politely called me out "Miss ?"

"Yes ?" I said, thinking that she was going to ask for the person she's been looking for.

"I wanted to know where is Yirina Grigoriev ?" She asked before I smiled

"Don't need to look too far." I handed my hand for shaking it with her "I'm Yirina Grigoriev."

"Yirina Portnova." She told me, sounding happy.

"Oh, you're the new KGB recruit !" I exclaimed, shaking our hands together. "An prodigy in cryptography as I heard." She nodded as we were finished to shook hands

"It's a pleasure to meet you." She added with an smile.

"Well, I never thought that I will meet another person who are sharing the same name as me but welcome anyway." I didn't know if she did take this as an compliment but she was still smiling and then, she laughed "If you want, you can follow me, my office is just next to us."

"My father is awaiting me at home for dinner and...."

"Don't worry..." I started, gently cutting her "It's just for presenting who I'm working for and tomorrow, I will show your way around." I then opened the lead as she was following me until we arrived in my office. I opened the door to see Zasha, still working at their desk. "Zed !" I exclaimed as I entered the office.

"Yes ?" They said before they looked at me and then behind me....looking amazed.

"Zasha, I'm presenting to you Yirina Portnova." I started as Portnova was handing her hand to them who stand up slowly, locking their eyes with her "Portnova, this is Zasha Smirnov."

"It's nice to meet you, Portnova." They said, looking troubled by her and she nodded.

"Portnova will be working with us, starting tomorrow." I told them before they stopped to shook hands as she was looking at me. "I'm letting you free, you can go."

"Thanks, miss Grigoriev." She said, giving an military salute to me before she left the office, leaving me alone with Zasha who had their eyes wide open and blushing. I looked at them with an good look,

"Quite an woman, right ?"

Then, everything goes to black before I supposely reopening my eyes as I found myself, lying down on the grass, looking at the skies and at my side, there were Park.....a old memory from my first time in the safehouse.....We were both lying down in the grass, near a river....near the safehouse...and we were both holding our hands together.

The atmosphere of the scene...it was all quiet, peaceful and looking that we were able to breathe freely after some times. In our faces, we were relieved to have some times together just the two of us.

"It's good that the others left the safehouse." I started, getting my left hand on my chest "That give us some time to be just together."

"It's rare but at least, we're profiting of it." Park added, happy in her voice.

"I can't believe that we pulled out of the Lubyanka like that." I admitted as I looked at her eyes. "I thought that we were done."

"And you wouldn't have any chance to see my face again?" She smirked, looking at me, teasing me.

"Oh, you need to know that I kept thinking about you during our exit." I exclaimed to her before giving a little kiss on the left cheek. She smiled from it before I moved back to my normal position and then after a few seconds, I was feeling some tears flowing from eyes. "I'm sorry, Park."

"About what ?" She asked, curious.

"About refusing what you wanted to do in the hotel." I replied "I should have said yes." I added.

"It's okay, Jess." She said, moving her right hand on my face.

"Adler....he broke into my room and...." I then started to cry before she moved me to get my head on her chest."

"I know, I'm sorry." She said, trying to recomfort me, getting her left hand passing through my hair. "Adler is really unpredictable, he knows now that we're both in a relationship....something he doesn't like at all." I got my hand on her chest next to my head, still having my tears falling. "He blackmailed me to stop that."

"And what did you say ?" I asked, nervous "You didn't..."

"No..." She replied, having guessed of my question, feeling her nice touch of her hand through my hair "I will never do such thing."

"I don't want to lose you, Park." I said, my voice cracking a lot before she pull me closer and get me more comfortable with her. I was getting better but I was still crying nonetheless. I then looked at her with my eyes filled of tears and she was looking moved to see me like that,

"You're so precious to me !"

[larktb-archive]

Hi! I'm too shy to come off anon, but I need your help understanding something. I hope I'm not bothering you!!

I don't want to interact with anyone who is a fascist, but I'm not entirely sure what makes someone fascist. Can you please explain it to me?

I know I could look it up myself, but I know that not all definitions online can be correct and I just want your perspective;;

Thanks!

Hi anon! Well, fascism comes in many forms so “sussing out who’s a fascist” is technically a little harder to do than having a simple checklist. After all, doesn’t a White Supremacist have different beliefs to a Japanese fascist? And doesn’t a Japanese fascist have different beliefs to a Wahabist? These beliefs clash don’t they? Well, yes and no. Sure the surface level beliefs are different but the underlying core beliefs of these groups are actually quite similar; it’s the specifics which are different. Even though it isn’t a “bible” on what is fascism and shouldn’t be taken as gospel, Umberto Eco has an essay called “Ur-Fascism” which contains 14 points, which can help us identify whether certain beliefs are fascist no matter the specifics of their belief system. I’ll explain the points in short and give some examples. Quick disclaimer, I am not an expert on fascism or any of the ideologies I’ll discuss by any means so if you aren’t taking Umberto Eco’s writing as the 100% correct truth, definitely don’t take mine as that either (this is how you should treat most sources tho):

1. Cult of Tradition and 2. Rejection of modernity

I put these two together because they’re kind of inseparable. This is basically the idea that there was a “glorious past” that people need to return to and modernity is a corruption of that “glorious past”. In British fascist thought, this past is generally the 19th century at the zenith of the British Empire or mid-20th century Britain. The latter is more common for people who wish to be a little more PC with their writings; instead of trying to use a by-gone era that pretty much no one alive can remember, they use a much more recent time with nostalgic ideas of “the good old days” which doesn’t seem threatening on it’s surface but is dogwhistling for a time when there weren’t as many immigrants in the country.

You may have seen the “reject modernity, embrace tradition” meme and it’s pretty much the most obvious incarnation of this idea. Similarly you may seen people online use “degenerate” as an insult. If you look at the meaning of the degenerate it means “having lost the physical, mental, or moral qualities considered normal and desirable; showing evidence of decline”; it’s microcosm of these ideas put into a single insult. This is why you tend to see conservatives use it more than progressives.

I’d also argue that terfs obsession with 2nd wave feminism and their utter rejection of intersectionality and modern feminism is another manifestation of this idea. 

3. Action for actions sake

This is less detectable in terms of individuals but still important to note that these people tend to support action without a cause. Sure the insurrection at the white house earlier this year was action, but it had no substance behind it. It was action for actions sake, which is why any principled leftist didn’t support it. Fascists will tend to openly just call for action but won’t be very specific about the purposes of the action; as long as they agree with the ideology behind it they’ll support it. It’s why fascists love harassment campaigns and mindless acts of terror. Take Wahabist terrorist orgs like Al-Qaeda or ISIS, it doesn’t matter if bombing an Ariana Grande concert has no point, the only point is the action itself.

4. Disagreement is treason  

This one’s pretty self explanatory, they will ostracize you if you disagree with them. Again, terfs tend to do this, and I had a long conversation with an ex-terf I called a dumbass, who basically said that she was ostracized by them and mocked for having different beliefs (hope she’s doing well actually). There’s numerous stories from ex-terfs like this.

5. Fear of difference

There’s a tendency for fascists to group people into “us” and “them”. “They” are considered to be intruders who need to be removed whereas “we” are the people who deserve to be here because it is “our” right to be here. In Zulu Nationalism, this tends to be any non-Zulu speakers who they deem to be “Shangaan” even if they aren’t actually Tsonga, it’s just a pejorative at this point. If you see vague references to the “elite” without any reference to who they are and what makes them “elite”, this is tends to be a dogwhistle for Jewish people. Western Fascists have very little issue with the workings of capitalism itself or the accumulation of wealth by capitalists, they just don’t like “them”, taking “our” stuff. Any references to “us” and “them” is pretty much a red flag.

6. Appeal to Social Frustration

Fascists will tend to brush upon actual issues faced by the poor today but will instead blame it on an outside force. You’ll see job loss being blamed on immigrants or vague “elites”. Terfs do this too. They’ll see young girls who are genuinely struggling with patriarchal issues and divert all that pent up rage towards trans people and the “q*eers” (which they do tend to use as a slur unlike what most people would have you think). 

7. Obsession with a Plot

Everything is a conspiracy! The election was rigged! 9/11 was fake! that fucking pizza place/this furniture company is a sex ring! All of these are supposedly plots by the deep state who are trying to do... something or other. You’ll notice these “Plots” don’t actually have a purpose, but the fact that there is a plot itself is the issue. This is a way of engendering paranoia in the group while also feeling that there is a constant war against you even if there isn’t. This is also why, despite news sources being pro-capitalist the right will swear up and down it’s leftist media which is controlled by “them” (usually just meaning Jewish people).

8. The enemy is both strong and weak

“Trans people have infiltrated academia and the only reason people refuse to see gender as an immutable biological concept, is because they’re too afraid of the trans cabal to say anything. But also everyone can tell trans people are crazy and haha you have a high suicide rate.” It’s contradictory that’s the point. They need to feel that they’re both counterculture but also they need to be winning at all times so that contradiction is necessary. Also the use of the word “cabal” is a pretty big red flag for all forms of fascism.

9. Pacifism is trafficking with the enemy, 10. Contempt for the weak, 11. Everybody is educated to become a hero and 12. Machismo and weaponry

All of these are kind of interrelated so I’m grouping them together (also this is already fucking long as hell so I don’t wanna bore you any further). You’ll tend to see a love for the military or at least military aesthetics when looking through fascist blogs. Guns aren’t just a tool for fascists, they’re representative of masculinity and the necessity of violence. Pacifists and anyone who refuses to fight are weak and therefore are “degenerate”. If you do not fight, if you are not willing to fight, you cannot be a “hero” (an ubermensch or a matyr). This comes with the fetishization of violence instead of the recognition of violence being an means to an end, and the worship of individuals rather than of communities and organizations. Take Japanese fascists and their lionisation of the imperial military and their desire to once again have an actual army.

Terfs don’t necessarily fit these roles except for arguably 10 considering how much they seem to look down upon the mentally ill and those who commit suicide and surprisingly 11 since that involves the hatred of non-standard sexual activities and terfs hate non-standard sex (this is from the most vanilla bitch who is very uncomfortable with kink but understands its not inherently good or bad). I have a feeling this is more so because terfs are mainly women (there are male terfs ofc) whereas this was written for male led organizations. 

13. Selective populism

When fascists talk about “the people” they tend to mean “the people we like”. “The working class” can be translated to “this cishet white christian man from Minnesota who owns land but hey he lives in a rural area so he’s working class right?”. They’ll also tend to have “tokens” who will suddenly become the mouth piece of the entire community they’re supposedly representing even if no one in the community asked them to (i.e. Milo Yiannopoulos). 

14. Ur fascism speaks Newspeak

They speak in terms which are both inaccessible to anyone outside of their circles whilst being so simple that once you learn them it becomes easy to understand. They abhor any form of “academic” speech so you’ll rarely see them source things (unless those things happen to agree with their views, which is rare but Jordan Peterson is popular for a reason) and if they do source things they probably wouldn’t have read them fully and will rely on you also not reading them. This is to limit any critical thinking so that your brain is basically jellified into an unquestioning organ which only responds “yes” or “no” and only appeals to a higher authority without any form of reasoning involved. This is why they complain about “the lefts memes being too wordy”... because they’re used to not having to read (this is somewhat tongue in cheek but heyho if the boot fits).

And that’s the 14 main features of fascism, if anyone is displaying multiple of these ideas then they are most likely fascist, and if an organization or group continuously replicates these ideas, then they are definitely fascist. I hope this wasn’t too long but like I said... very complex topic. (Also hopefully this is written well, it’s 10 PM and I am surviving off Irn Bru energy drink). Hope this helped!

[uncloseted]

my mom keeps badgering me about the capital event bc i really hated it but i support the blm protests and she says it’s hypocritical of me bc the protests were just as “violent” as the capital and “caused lots of deaths”. i never really have anything to say back to justify what went down, do you have any info i could use to explain myself? i know they were for completely different causes and one actually matters, but i don’t know how to justify the “violence” (i personally don’t think a majority of them were violent, all the ones where i lived were routinely peaceful and i think the extreme ones were sensationalized for the news). anyway sorry if it’s dumb i’m 14 and just trying to get into politics and stuff so i’m not super well informed and just trying to learn.

I’m sorry this has taken me a few days to get to.  What happened at the Capitol is complicated, and I want to make sure I give you as full of an answer as possible.  I also want to just quickly say that it’s awesome you’re getting involved in politics at such a young age and trying to help your parents understand these issues.  I would love to answer any questions you have about politics or social issues (or just kind of anything in general, I’m not picky).  Last thing and then I’ll get into the meat of this post- I’m a huge supporter of the BLM and police abolition movements and was a protestor over the summer, so I’m maybe a little bit biased.  This situation makes me really angry on a personal level, but I’ll try to stick to just the facts as much as possible in this post and let you know when I’m showing my own opinions.

So the first thing I want to talk about is language.  The Black Lives Matter protests were protests- a public expression of objection, disapproval or dissent towards a political idea or action, usually with the intention of influencing government policy.  In the US, protesting is a constitutional right protected by the First Amendment.  The storming of the Capitol was not a protest, and it wasn’t intended to be.  It was planned several weeks in advance with the explicit intention of disrupting the counting of Electoral College ballots.  Their stated goal was to overturn Donald Trump’s defeat in the presidential election, an election that is widely considered to be the freest, fairest, and safest election in US history (ironically, in part due to Trump’s insistence that there was voter fraud in the 2016 election).  Storming a public building is not a form of protest protected by the US Constitution.  Further, an attempt to overturn a democratic election is an attempt to carry out a coup.  The Capitol rioters will likely be charged with sedition (conduct that incites rebellion against the established order) and/or insurrection (a violent uprising against an authority or government).  The Black Lives Matter protestors were not attempting to carry out a coup against the US government, and none have been charged with offenses as big as those.

Next, I want to touch on motivation.  The Black Lives Matter protesters were protesting against police brutality towards minorities, particularly Black people.  There has long been a documented history of police misconduct and fatal use of force by law enforcement officers against Black people in the US.  Many protests in the past have been a response to police violence, including the 1965 Watts riots, the 1992 Los Angeles riots, and the 2014 and 2015 Black Lives Matter protests in response to the murders of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and Freddie Gray.  By contrast, the Capitol rioters were not motivated by fact.  They were called to action by the President of the United States, Donald Trump.  They were told that the election had been “stolen” from Trump, and were encouraged to march over to the Capitol to “take back our country”.  The idea that the election was stolen from the president is demonstrably false.  They weren’t motivated by a social issue, a concern for their own lives, facts, or even really principle.  “Our president wants us here...we wait to take orders from our president,” was what motivated them. The affiliations of those rioters are varied, but many of them are affiliated with either the far-right, anti-government Boogaloo Boys, the explicitly neofascist Proud Boys, the self-proclaimed militia The Oath Keepers, or the far-right militia group Three Percenters.  Many are also on the record as being QAnon followers (followers of a disproven far-right conspiracy that started off as a 4chan troll, which states that an anonymous government official, “Q”, is providing information about a cabal of Satan-worshiping, cannibalistic pedophiles in the Democratic party who are running a child sex trafficking ring and plotting against Trump.  Yes, really).

The intentions of BLM were largely peaceful.  BLM protest documents encouraged protesters to be peaceful even in the face of police violence, because the BLM protesters knew what the price of being violent would be.  We were encouraged not to bring weapons or anything that could be misconstrued as a weapon.  Even non-violent protests were met with tear gas, rubber bullets, and riot gear.  A reported 96.3% of 7,305 BLM protests were entirely peaceful (no injuries, no property damage).  The 292 “violent incidents” in question were mainly the toppling of statues of “colonial figures, slave owners, and Confederate leaders”.  There were also several instances of right wing, paramilitary style militia movements discharging firearms into crowds of protesters, and 136 confirmed incidences of right-wing participation at the protests (including members of the aforementioned Boogaloo Boys, Three Percenters, Oath Keepers, and Proud Boys).  It was also rumored that off-duty police were inciting violence (although to my knowledge, that is unconfirmed).  There is no evidence that “antifa” (a decentralized, left-wing, anti-racist and anti-fascist group) played a role in instigating the protests or violence, or even that they had a significant role in the protests at all.  People who were involved in crimes were not ideologically organized, and were largely opportunists taking advantage of the chaos for personal gain.  

By contrast, the “Storm the Capitol” documents were largely violent; messages like, “pack a crowbar,” and “does anyone know if the windows on the second floor are reinforced” were common on far-right social media platforms.  One message on 8kun (formerly 8chan, a website linked to white supremacy, neo-Nazism, the alt-right, etc) stated, "you can go to Washington on Jan 6 and help storm the Capitol....As many Patriots as can be. We will storm the government buildings, kill cops, kill security guards, kill federal employees and agents, and demand a recount."  The speakers at the Trump rally encouraged attendees to see themselves as foot soldiers fighting to save the country, and to be ready to “bleed for freedom”.  The Capitol rioters were mostly armed; rioters were reportedly seen firing pepper spray at police officers, and pipe bombs, molotov cocktails, and guns (including illegal assault rifles) were found on the protesters. One protester was filmed saying, “believe me, we are well armed if we need to be.”  Some protesters arrived in paramilitary regalia, including camo and Kevlar vests.

I quickly want to touch on scale.  The George Floyd BLM protests are thought to be the largest protests in US history, with between 15 and 26 million (largely young, sometimes children, minority) people attending a protest in over 2000 cities in 60 countries.  There were around 14,000 arrests, most being low-level offenses such as violating curfews or blocking roadways. 19 deaths have been reported, largely at the hands of police.  Only one death is known to have been a law enforcement officer.  The number of people who stormed the Capitol is still somewhat unclear, but it seems to be between 2,000 and 8,000 (largely older white, cis, straight, Christian men) people.  80+ people have been arrested for federal crimes, including 25+ who are being charged with domestic terrorism (something nobody associated with BLM is being accused of).  There have been five deaths reported.  One was a police officer, and the other four were rioters.  Of those deaths, one was a police related shooting (a female Air Force veteran).  The other three died of unrelated medical emergencies.  One reportedly had a history of high blood pressure and suffered a heart attack from the excitement.  

Now I want to look at government response.  During the BLM protests, there was a huge response from law enforcement.  200 cities imposed curfews, 30 states and Washington DC activated over 96,000 National Guard, State Guard, 82nd Airborne, and 3rd Infantry Regiment service members.  The deployment was the largest military operation other than war in US history, and it was in response to protests concerning, in part, the militarization of police forces.  The police were outfitted in riot gear.  They used physical force against BLM protesters, including batons, tear gas, pepper spray, and rubber bullets, “often without warning or seemingly unprovoked,” per the New York Times.  Anecdotally, everyone I know now knows how to neutralize pepper spray, treat rubber bullet wounds, build shields out of household items, how to prevent cellphones from being tracked, and how to confuse facial recognition technology to prevent being identified (as six men connected to the Ferguson protests mysteriously turned up dead afterwards, and the police were using cellphone tracking technology).  Amnesty International issued a press release calling for police to end excessive militarized response to the protests.  There were 66 incidents of vehicles being driven into crowds of protesters, 7 of which explicitly involved police officers, the rest of which were by far-right groups.  Over 20 people were partially blinded after being struck with police projectiles.  When the BLM protests were happening, Trump said that, “when the looting starts, the shooting starts.”

In contrast, the response to the Capitol protesters was relatively tame, especially given that the US Capitol’s last breach was over 200 years ago (when British troops set fire to the building during the war of 1812) and the rioters weren’t being shy about their aspirations to conduct an armed insurrection incited by the sitting president.  There was (widely available, able to be found through a Google search, everyone saw it) prior intelligence that far-right, extremist groups were planning on (violently) Storming the Capitol on January 6th, with the intention of interrupting the Electoral College ballot counting and holding lawmakers hostage.  However, the US Capitol Police insisted that a National Guard presence would not be necessary for the protests, and Pentagon officials reportedly restricted DC guard troop from being deployed except as a measure of last resort, and restricted them from receiving ammunition or riot gear.  They were instructed to engage with rioters only in self-defense, and were banned from using surveillance equipment.  Despite prior knowledge of the “protests”, Capitol Police staffing levels mirrored that of a normal day, and no riot control equipment was prepared.  The Capitol Police weren’t in paramilitary gear the way they were for the BLM protests.  The mob walked in to the Capitol with little resistance.  Some scaled walls, some broke down barricades, some smashed windows, and one video even seems to show Capitol Police opening a gate for the mob. Rioters traipsed around the Capitol (one of the most important government buildings in the country) with little resistance, looting and vandalizing offices of Congress members.  Some rioters felt safe enough to give their names to media outlets, livestream their exploits, and take selfies with police officers.  One man was (ironically) carrying a Confederate flag, a symbol of a secession attempt on the part of the South (and of racism). It took 50 minutes for FBI tactical teams to arrive at the scene, and the National Guard were initially directed by Trump not to intervene.  Pence later overturned that ruling and approved the National Guard.  Police used finally used riot gear, shields, smoke grenades, and batons to retake control of the Capitol, but notably no tear gas or rubber bullets.  Video showed rioters being escorted away without handcuffs.  Trump’s response to the riot was, "we love you. You're very special ... but you have to go home." 

This is where I’m going to get a little editorial, but I think it’s important to say.  If the people storming the Capitol Building were Black, they would have been met with a large, pre-coordinated military presence, violent restraint, arrests, and quite possibly would have been shot.  They wouldn’t have made it inside the Capitol, much less been given free rein to wander around without immediate consequence. Hundreds of people during the George Floyd protests were arrested for just being present- 127 protesters were arrested for violating curfew on June 2nd in Detroit alone, twice the number of arrests made during the storming of the US Capitol.  It turns out that the police do know how to use restraint, after all.  What an absolute shock.  It’s almost like they’re a corrupt and racist institution we should get rid off...

The last big thing I want to talk about is the outcome.  The BLM protests were meaningful, but the outcome from them has been tame.  Nobody has been accused of domestic terrorism. State and local governments evaluated their police department policies and made some changes, like banning chokeholds, partially defunding some departments, and passing regulations that departments must recruit in part from the communities they patrol.  Only one city, Minneapolis, pledged to dismantle their police force.  The response has largely been localized.  I think the biggest impact it’s had is introducing people to the concept of police abolition and getting more people involved in the movement.  By contrast, the Capitol riots have resulted in over 25 people being accused of domestic terrorism and the second attempt to impeach Donald Trump, something that has never happened before in the history of the US.  

But what really concerns me is the precedent this sets.  Donald Trump is an idiot, and he’s gotten this far.  We can’t count on the guy who takes his place to be an idiot, too.  The next guy could be clever, strategic, well-spoken, well-mannered... not to invoke Godwin’s law here, but people liked Hitler.  He was a persuasive speaker and capitalized on conspiracy theories about World War 1 to gain support.  His 1923 attempt to overthrow the Bavarian government failed, but sympathy for his aims grew.  He painted himself as a good, moral man who loved dogs and children and was trying to do right by his country (by, among other things, arresting communists and leftists, and then eventually all minorities).  Trump isn’t Hitler.  He’s not even a Hitler analogue.  But Trump has already done this much damage to the fabric of our society.  He’s worn down our relationship with the media, with one another, with democracy, with morality, and with truth itself.  We have to be prepared for the idea that the next guy might be a much better politician.  Getting rid of Trump isn’t the end; it’s the beginning of a fight against fascism that’s only going to grow from here.

There are other differences you could point to.  BLM protesters wore masks to prevent the spread of COVID (and indeed, researchers have reported that the protests did not drive an increase in virus transmission), for example, while the rioters were largely unmasked.  But I think the bottom line is that the millions of BLM protesters were doing their best to be responsible citizens fighting peacefully for an evidence-based, human rights cause, even though they knew that as a primarily minority group of people, they would be met with violence.  The thousands of far-right, white, Capitol insurrectionists were doing their best to overturn a free, fair, safe, and democratic election because of a call to action by Trump and a stringent belief in disproven conspiracy theories, which they knew would be met with minimal resistance despite the severity of their actions.  The insurrectionists are fascists, full stop, and we should call them what they are.  The BLM protesters were by and large just people, of all different political views and motivations, who wanted to fight against something they saw as unjust.  

I’m sorry that this is such a long post. This topic has been on my mind all week, and I wanted to give it the nuance it deserves.  All we can do from here is to keep fighting- for justice, for truth, and, hopefully, for peace.

[karanseraph]

Still trying to work on Ch 41.

I got one vote for just use unnamed generics and one vote (from another platform) for include a baby dragon Predacon.

So, now I'm trying to figure out the details.

While my body decided to have one more health issue and I'm on medication for an abscessed tooth and it's just gnarly.

I think what I'm trying to do with this fic (other than let how bots connect with each other or don't a theme) is to tell Skywarp's own history in this particular continuity, but to also suggest what's going on with Cybertron, the universe, or maybe the multiverse through the various guest star characters Warp encounters.

So for any given chapter I can have a goal of what Skywarp needs to do. But then layered with that is who are the guest stars in this time and place and what do they need or want. And then, how much does Skywarp allow himself to get involved in with them and how is that balanced with what he needs. So, there's proactive character aspects, but also reactionary character aspects.

So now I am putting this version of a juvenile Stormrazor in Ch 41 as one of the guest stars, and otherwise mainly generic survivors if any. But to have placed the young Predcon there I have to think how they got there.

And that's the current thing I'm a bit stuck with. Because my instinct is that this character was trafficked here and this builds on some of the mystery of who even decides the place of newly-forged bots in this era on Cybertron when the Quintessons are gone, but their Senate of selected bots still mostly holds non-representative power over the planet, but City-states are also mostly each doing their own thing and vying to get Senators to protect them in inter-state conflicts. So, if some bot just trafficks a newly sparked and forged bot across territories is there any appeal to authority in this era or do bots who witness the practice take it upon themselves to interfere? They got rid of such things as Judges and Prosecutors.

I suspect that as they are in this transition between the 'golden' age of post-war celebration and an obviously impending age of expansion, it can seem peaceful when a bot sticks to their own city-state, but when one zooms out and travels from one to another they notice Cybertron isn't really unified. And it's like some bots seem to think a drive to expand and this promise that there are even better things out there could bring bots together in that pursuit, yet if you think about it, that's not really different from the Quintessons coming in and promising off-world technologies and then making the Cybertronians their new products to ship off-world.

So, I suspect that several strong factions form as some city-states and organizations of bots are able to unite with those most appealing as allies, while not all of them can.

I think expansion happens. But I think it's a little bit of a space race scenario where not all of the bridges and titans are funded or established by a united Cybertron but by a fragmented Cybertron that couldn't address internal issues first.

And meanwhile, there's still bots being forged and learning in this era. Some have mentors and learn traditions and regional dialects. But we're seeing that some young-bots are 'griducated' (derogatory) by some Senate/archivist approved standardized primary programming that attempts to standardize dialect and knowledge. And there's apparently all sorts of traffic of sparks and young-bots. Even if its well-intentioned, we've seen a young-bot in Tarn who already was rebelling against their current mentor and desiring other allies and to be seen as independent. And then there's this little dragon left in a library and maybe no one surviving knows how they got there?

I need to figure it out before the upcoming chapters because I think we end up witnessing a sparkfield in bloom.

Generics or named characters?

I'm working on writing Ch 41 of The Life and Times of Skywarp. I got the first scene of the chapter done. And now (you know I'm a 'pantser' in terms of writing process and make most of the story up as I go?) I'm stuck from progressing because I can't decide what other survivors the team may find, if any.

As of now, there's noone plot-relevant that needs to appear to further the plot as it is. Yet, with this process, any character I add does potentially affect the plot as once they are introduced, they find a role, even if its small.

Anyone have requests or suggestions? Transformers characters that we thing could reasonably turn up in a library/storm shelter in Damaxus in the Rust Sea region during a storm that has uncovered some sparkless zombies?

I could be here for days just thinking about it not writing. I do this sometimes. Do I pick a character? Do I hit Random Page of TFWiki 'til someone appropriate turns up? Do I just keep vaguely referring to 'the survivors in the meeting room'? Do I make them all dead or zombified already? (Do Sparkless make other Sparkless?)

Do I time-skip and start writing about after they finished searching the library or about the next night? (I don't think this is the answer, because a character is dealing with guilt from letting the Sparkless in, they should see all the results with the audience.)

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Blessed Child podcast by Renrobot. Welcome and BITE model parts 1 and 2.

https://anchor.fm/blessed-child2/episodes/Welcome-to-Blessed-Child-Podcast-e10c8o8

May 6     Welcome to the ‘Blessed Child’ podcast  (one minute) Our agenda on ‘Blessed Child’ is to deconstruct, learn helpful language, navigate the present moment and heal ourselves and our relationships with others. Let’s dive deep! If you would like to be on this Podcast, just message Renrobot 🖤 All custom Artwork created by Renrobot.art on Instagram and Facebook

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https://anchor.fm/blessed-child2/episodes/Behavior-control-explained-e102nsg

May 2

Behavior Control explained!  (31:42)Listen here for a deconstruction of high control groups with Renrobot using Steve Hassan’s BITE model on authoritarian control. This is a live recording from Instagram live so there are comments made from other survivors throughout the episode. To join these lives find Renrobot.art on Instagram. We are dissecting Behavior Control first.

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https://anchor.fm/blessed-child2/episodes/Information-control--Bite-model-with-Jen-Kiaba-e10a5t0

May 5 Information control – The ‘BITE model’ with Jen Kiaba  (61:23) Jen Kiaba is an award winning and nationally recognized artist who joined Renrobot in deconstructing “Information Control” in the Unification Church. Using the BITE model, this episode is laced with rich stories and useful information. Renrobot edited the Instagram live to insert a little more information to help members understand the factors that created the UC reality. You can find Jen Kiaba on Instagram and Facebook as Jen Kiaba. Enjoy!

Some additional information: In 1959 Miss Young-oon Kim and David SC Kim came to the US. Bo Hi Pak arrived in 1961. In 1965 Papasan Sang-Ik Choi came to the US after he was deported from Japan. He arrived in the US with Rev Moon for his first world tour. That spring, in Bo Hi Pak’s house, Rev Moon got Annie Choi pregnant. She was the daughter of one of the richest men in Korea. Rev Moon had sex with Annie for several months, and he only left the US when he was sure she was pregnant. Sam Park was born in January 1966 in Washington, DC, and was hidden in Pak’s family.

That information was kept controlled for decades.

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Here is a transcript of a short section. It has been lightly edited and updated.

11:00 “My step-mother told me that people were selling candles. Fourteen members of the newly formed permanent MFT arrived in Philadelphia to begin four months of candle selling. This team composed largely of the former Belvedere project team mobile team, including five from the Berkeley center. [Rev Moon’s Belvedere mansion was mainly purchased with money earned by members selling church manufactured candles.] This new team were to sell candles for eight hours a day for five days a week to achieve their goal of achieving $18,500 each month. My step-mother told me that, during this candle selling adventure, the leader was driving in the middle of the night and he pressed on the brakes. The candles were stacked up above two sleeping members in the back of the van. The boxes were extremely heavy and they fell on to the sleeping members below, breaking the backs of two of them. One member was paralysed. (It is believed the other left the organization.) So these are the kind of stories that are not told often, but they are important to tell. MFT was always dangerous and the members were always treated with disrespect and with no care for safety. As long as money was made, it did not matter who died. I think it is important to tell these stories because if we tell them, we can start seeing the pattern. Many MFT members died; many members were injured. The MFT efforts continued without the acknowledgement of the dangers involved. The use of members just continued.

I don’t think Jesus would do this. Would Jesus have members die to sell candles? Absolutely not. What would Rev Moon do? He would say it was spiritual providence that Satan claimed them for the progress of the providence of restoration. This is a gaslighting and a narcissistic technique to change people’s memories of what really happened. It is called euphoric recall. You want to remember the good things and not the bad things. But the bad things are actually fact, and they are things that need to be accurately remembered so what is happening now can be changed. …

These members on MFT were not paid, did not have health insurance and had no social security benefits. This is labor trafficking. This is the definition of labor trafficking. They were gaslit to believe this was missionary work… My step-mother was on MFT and was labor trafficked for seven years and has absolutely nothing to show for it.”

UPDATE The two members in the candle selling MFT accident suffered from broken backs – one was paralyzed. It is believed the other left the organization.

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Blessed Child podcast by Renrobot. The BITE model parts 3 and 4, and a story from Africa.

The BITE model developed by Steven Hassan, PhD.

Robert Jay Lifton’s Eight Conditions of Thought Reform (1963)

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March 24, 2021

Ares Meyer podcast

Tattoo Artist Join me in conversation with tattoo artist Ren Robot as we talk Art, The Unification Church, Summer Camp and so much more!

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/tattoo-artist/id1549515902?i=1000514164666

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The Spectrum of Influence

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Boonville’s Japanese origins Papasan Choi moved to the Bay Area in November 1965.

CONTROLLED INFORMATION:

Pak Chung-hwa interviewed about Moon’s “SEX relays”

Moon’s first wife, Choi Seon-gil, and Kim Deok-jin interviewed

The six ‘wives’ of Sun Myung Moon

Hak Ja Han’s mother ansu beat an 18 year-old boy to death to get rid of evil spirits

Sun Myung Moon’s secret love child – Mother Jones

Sam Park, Moon’s secret son, reveals hidden history (2014)

Sam Park responds to feedback from his 2014 presentation

A huge Moon Church scam in Japan is revealed

Black Heung Jin Nim – Violence in the Moon church

Sun Myung Moon used a ‘Honey Trap’ – Choi Soon-yeong explains

Nansook Hong: In The Shadow Of The Moons book

The Fall of the House of Moon – New Republic

The Tragedy of the Six Marys website

Cult Indoctrination – and the Road to Recovery

Chung-hwa Pak did not write “I am a Traitor”  (It was ghost written and published by the UC of Japan.)