#people who have been deported and came back

[formulapookie]

ok so Trump wants what? To ban immigration all together? All the appointments set for Political Asylum Request have been cancelled and there's no intention of giving immigrants waiting on the border any mean to cross it legally.

This is PREVENTING LEGAL IMMIGRATION, what does Trump think? That the soldiers and border patrols won't get bribed? And let someone in? Or does he perfectly know this so he's gonna use people coming into the US illegally as "proof" of them having (in his opinion) no right to be there.

He increased border controls, he wants to DEPORT people back into the countries they came from for the most various reasons, he wants to eliminate the right (written in the Constitution, 14th amendment, sec 1) of every person born/naturalized in the US to be a US citizen.

And if people ask me "Oh but you're Italian, living in Italy, how does that affect you?" Ok so first of all this is called worrying out of COMMON SENSE cause fucking hell it's absurd to even think this. Secondly US are a MAJOR example for the whole world, as I already said, and given MY country is currently ruled by a fascist party with a fascist leader, who enjoys giving out the citizenship to criminals like Milei and has direct contacts with Trump, sorry but I am fucking scared because what if we're next? You'd be shocked to know how many people here would vote for that excuse of a man.

And once again, I worry and talk about it because one cannot possibly think their country for as far as it can be from the US is excluded from what's happening or is not affected by it somehow.

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

[focaccia-nose]

I love how one of my favorite artists just posted that Israel literally faked a terrorist attack and murdered their own civilians, which is just Holocaust denial but in a different font.

One of my favorite creators just posted about how a valid "solution" is for every Israeli to deport themselves and go back to where they came from. We already tried that. We continued to get killed. This whole thing proves that we are not safe anywhere.

I love how white leftists have determined that all of the media/narrative is controlled by Israel (cough sound familiar?) and are refusing to vote.

People I know and love are still regularly posting dog whistles on their Instagram stories.

Former friends still dm me accusing me of being a zionist for allowing room to grieve for all the civilians that were lost.

These tears are not "crocodile tears" or "white tears." Not only are we going through a huge collective trauma and watching genocide occur in real time, but somehow it's every Jewish person's fault for purely existing.

I'm not sleeping. I'm not eating. I'm so angry and so fucking sad and now my forms of escapism aren't safe anymore either.

I don't know how I'm ever going to recover. I have been fundamentally changed while people are posting purely to vertue signal and feel better about themselves. I just hope that I can learn how to trust people again. I hope I can learn how to be soft again.

I refuse to be a "good jew." I'm so proud of who I am and I will never shut up about it ever again.

[lesbianchemicalplant]

The only reason that Wittig didn't become a TERF blogger like her contemporaries is that she died too early to make a miserable little Wordpress site. (She certainly never lifted a finger, for decades, as her peers set out projects of exterminating and immiserating trans women)

If you want to see what trajectory Wittig would have taken if she had lived longer, you don't need to look further than Christine Delphy, Wittig's co-“Materialist Feminist” and another big-name radfem who gets the “not like the other girls” treatment

Delphy signed the TERF statement ‘Forbidden Discourse: The Silencing of Feminist Critique of “Gender”’ with the other radfems like Ti-Grace Atkinson in 2013:

mirror of TERF blog with the actual statement

We defend the right of RadFem to exclude men, including M>F trans people, from their feminist meetings and to invite speakers who analyze gender from a feminist perspective. [etc. etc.]

Initiated by Carol Hanisch (NY), Kathy Scarbrough (NJ), Ti-Grace Atkinson (MA), and Kathie Sarachild (NY) Also signed by Roberta Salper (MA), Marjorie Kramer (VT), Jean Golden (MI), Marisa Figueiredo (MA), Maureen Nappi (NY), Sonia Jaffe Robbins (NY), Tobe Levin (Germany), Marge Piercy (MA), Barbara Leon (CA), Anne Forer (AZ), Anselma Dell’Olio (Italy), Carla Lesh (NY), Laura X (CA), Gabrielle Tree (Canada), Christine Delphy (France), Pam Martens (FL), Nellie Hester Bailey (NY), Colette Price (NY), Candi Churchhill (FL), Peggy Powell Dobbins (GA), Annie Tummino (NY), Margo Jefferson (NY), Jennifer Sunderland (NY), Michele Wallace (NJ), Allison Guttu (NY), Sheila Michaels (MO), Carol Giardina (NY), Nicole Hardin (FL), Merle Hoffman (NY), Linda Stein (NY), Margaret Stern (NY), Faith Ringgold (NJ), Joanne Steele (NY)

I don't think trans women actually have any need to “reclaim Radical Feminism.” and to be perfectly blunt, I've already seen this routine with Alyson Escalante & co. in the '10s

In Escalante's case, she eventually backed off of it and abandoned Wittig and her other interests in rehabilitating Radical Feminism. As for others who I followed or had at least seen around online....well, some of the TME ones came out as TERFs. And a few who were trans women literally detransitioned or stopped IDing as transfem to become Male TERF Allies (and also abandoned Marxism at that point)

And Escalante was one of the most popular trans woman on tumblr at the time! in large part because TME people loved that a trans woman was saying radical feminism should be rehabilitated from a materialist lens. it flattered them. including many of her Lesbian Feminist TME mutuals who later came out as TERFs (e.g. Butchcommunist)

And the thing is, I could stomach studying and recommending all of these people's theories if I thought there was any utility, if anything good had come from them, like I do for communists who were homophobic etc., but they just don't have anything useful for us! The greatest impact these radfems have had beyond exterminating trans women has been lending support to increased police violence, caging, surveillance, and deportations of sex workers. A wretched legacy with no redeeming qualities and nothing worth salvaging

The only other thing I can say is that if you are TME, and you specifically seek out trans women who are willing to pay lip service to your favorite TERFs and transmisogynist feminists in general—“finally, one of you who's reasonable about Adrienne Rich!”—other trans women around you will eventually notice and probably won't care much for that

[elsaclack]

took a day or so to wait on this just to make sure i wasn’t talking out of my ass here but

the censorship on tiktok has ramped up significantly since service was restored to americans

i’ve been active back on here long enough to note that the level of censorship on tiktok that was present before the ban was a joke on here. words like “unalive” are stupid and ridiculous (and in certain cases when it comes to filtering specific words, downright dangerous) to non-tiktok users, but the reason words like “unalive” and other heavily coded language came to be so ingrained in tiktok users’ vocabulary is because the platform itself would either flag videos with the actual words like “kill” or “murder” or “dead/die/died” and remove them from the platform, suppress the video to the point where large creators were getting maybe 20-30 views (when their norm is 20,000-30,000+), OR it would shadowban not just the video, but the user themselves. tiktok’s user base linguistically developed into the heavily coded version of english that the public sees (and in many cases, rightfully makes fun of) today specifically to get around the platform’s arbitrary and ill-defined censorship rules to reach the widest possible audience they could reach on the platform. it sucks and it’s stupid, we think so too, but it’s what we had to do to make the platform what we wanted it to be.

now that tiktok is back online for americans, i’ve seen a lot of people testing whether the algorithm is still working by saying things like “trans rights are human rights” and “universal free healthcare” and things like that, and the algorithm itself does appear to be working as comments on those videos assure the creator that their video was on the fyp and found their target audience. HOWEVER. many users, myself included, have noticed that comments speaking negatively about trump specifically are being forced through a creator-approval process when that NEVER happened before. additionally, videos discussing trump in a negative way are now limited on the number of times they can be shared in-app, meaning that if i wanted to share one, the platform would limit me to only 5 shares before it tells me that i’ve reached the max number of shares. instead of being able to send a post to a sixth friend’s tiktok dm, i would have to copy the link and send it to that friend outside of tiktok, and that’s assuming the platform would allow me to copy the link at all.

one creator even tried to include a clip of trump HIMSELF FROM HIS OWN RALLY IN DC saying IN HIS OWN WORDS that he rigged the election, and their video was flagged and taken down. does it annoy me that i watched one creator say, verbatim, “d.t. just admitted that he rigatoni’d the electioni (pronounced ee-leck-tee-oh-nee)”? YES THATS SO ANNOYING. but it’s also the only way we can communicate there now, and the implications of that are terrifying. mass deportations start in the next 24 hours along with the 100+ other HORRIFIC executive orders trump is signing the second he’s back in office, and the biggest social media platform in america was essentially just gagged by the platform itself. i am BEGGING any american citizen (or anyone else!!) who reads this to not allow your biases against tiktok blind you to the reality of what’s happening directly in front of our faces.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

LATROBE, Pa. — When fascism finally went mainstream in America, it came hawking a $60 made-in-China Bible and shadowed by a 50-foot American flag braced by construction cranes — and it opened with a story about Arnold Palmer’s private parts. I’d driven nearly five hours into and under the Allegheny ridges of Western Pennsylvania — up and down slopes that got steeper each mile with the volume of Donald Trump flags and yard signs that proclaimed “I’m Voting for the Convict 2024″ — out of a sense that the decline and fall of American civilization has reached a depth that I needed to personally bear witness. It was a fever dream — maybe I could find words that have eluded everyone else. Just six days earlier, Trump came to the Philly suburbs and turned a supposed town hall into a 39-minute dance party as his deeply confused crowd watched a once and wannabe future U.S. president sway awkwardly to Sinead O’Connor and Luciano Pavarotti or look utterly frozen in the bubble of his 78-year-old head. And yet when the alarm goes off the next morning, it’s still Groundhog Day in America, an election with a 50% chance of the music-trance guy winning. Something both incredibly momentous and weird is happening at the same time. Now, the sun was nearly setting over the runway at Arnold Palmer Regional Airport. With the most consequential U.S. presidential election since 1860 just 17 days away, about 3,000 to 4,000 of the most die-hard MAGA Trump fans who weren’t exhausted by the campaign and the GOP candidate’s frequent visits to Steelers’ country had been waiting for hours on a sunbaked tarmac. They’d let out the obligatory whoop for the obligatory flyover of Trump Force One, and then finally the man tasked with bringing their country back was on the podium, filtered by bulletproof glass. Donald Trump’s red meat of mass-deportation camps and R-rated attacks on his opponents would have to wait. Monday’s DJ was now Saturday night’s comedian, with his cult as captive audience. What started out as an obligatory shout-out to Latrobe’s famous native son — Palmer, the late great golfer who brought the sport to your TV screens in the 1960s — went on for five minutes, then 10, then 12. What started as a nice but meandering tale about Palmer’s working-class roots grew into a stone silence during long detours into stuff like types of golf club shafts as the tale grew increasingly instead about Trump — about how his own power and wealth allowed him to claim friendship with this great man. You are standing in the twilight wondering if this could get any stranger when of course it did. The man who bragged in his first campaign that he could shoot somebody on Fifth Avenue and people would still vote for him now wants America to know he can tell a penis joke with the cameras rolling and still get elected as the 47th president. [...] So I came to Latrobe to try and write the 72-point headline that the Times editors can’t — “PHALLUS-JOKE MAN AND DANCING FOOL COULD LEAD THE FREE WORLD AGAIN” — and to scream at the top of my lungs from the bluffs overlooking this tiny airport that this would-be emperor telling the shower story is actually wearing no clothes. Who will shout that Trump’s “closing argument” is the melding of his increasingly public breakdown with how that might lead to an all-too-real domestic war of midnight raids and armored personnel carriers against the fiction of an “Occupied America”? Ironically, Trump’s endless Arnold Palmer bit seemed part of an effort Saturday night to prove that the rambling candidate is not “exhausted,” something that his own aides reportedly said after several recent interviews were canceled. But the Republican nominee — kind of like Madonna’s “Sex” phase and shock photos when her 1980s were ending — also appeared to sense that he needs to get more and more outrageous to get attention, after numbing America to his Hitlerian language that immigrants “will cut your throat.”

Will Bunch at The Philadelphia Inquirer on Donald Trump's Latrobe rally (10.20.2024)

Will Bunch wrote in The Philadelphia Inquirer about Donald Trump’s fascist insultfest in Latrobe, PA in which he infamously obsessed about Arnold Palmer.

[rjzimmerman]

Here we go, before the mf is even sworn into office he's scaring the shit out of a whole bunch of people, including ordinary Americans who fear for their country's future, such as me. Does this mean that anybody who might be walking down the street and speaking English with a foreign accent are potentially subject to snatching by the US Army?

Excerpt from this story from Rolling Stone:

Donald Trump‘s determination to conduct mass deportations of undocumented immigrants is very real, and he wants to start cracking down immediately. One of the ways he plans to do so is by declaring a national emergency that will enable him to use the military to help boot migrants out of the United States.

The president-elect on Monday responded “TRUE!!!”  to a Truth Social post about reports that his incoming administration is “prepared to declare a national emergency and will use military assets to reverse the Biden invasion through a mass deportation program.”

The confirmation came at 4:08 a.m.

Trump built his 2024 presidential campaign around a vow to lock down the border and forcibly — and violently — deport the undocumented immigrants currently living in the United States. He spoke repeatedly about an “invasion” of migrants who are “poisoning the blood” of the nation, and even claiming that undocumented immigrants have been “conquering” American cities.

He’s been insistent since winning the election that immigration is his top priority, telling NBC News that his administration will spare no expense when it comes to deportation. “It’s not a question of a price tag,” he said. “It’s not — really, we have no choice. When people have killed and murdered, when drug lords have destroyed countries, and now they’re going to go back to those countries because they’re not staying here. There is no price tag.”

There will certainly be a price tag, however, and it will be high given the logistical implications of removing millions of people from the nation. Immigration and Customs Enforcement is not currently equipped to carry out Trump’s deportation agenda, which calls for quadrupling the number of deportations the agency carries out every year. 

Politico reported Monday on some of the tactics the administration plans to start cracking down, noting that deportations will commence within Trump’s first 100 days in office, and that his team is looking for ways to expedite the process that will withstand any legal challenges from rights groups. Trump is also expected to quickly do away with a Biden administration policy that prioritized deporting migrants who threatened public safety and national security, and directed ICE officers to take “the totality of the facts and circumstances” into consideration before deporting migrants with criminal convictions.

Tom Homan, the immigration hardliner Trump recently tapped as his “border czar,” has said criminals will be the first to go, while teasing the administration’s aggressive approach to deportation. “I got three words for them: shock and awe,” Homan told Donald Trump Jr. of the administration’s approach. “Shock and awe. You’re going to see us take this country back.”

[girlactionfigure]

Brave Young Croatian: Ivan Vranetic

Risked His Life To Save Strangers

Ivan “Ivica” Vranetic was a Catholic teenager who saved Croatian Jews from the Nazis by finding safe places for them to hide and  providing for their basic needs until the war was over. 

Born in Vrbas, Yugoslavia in 1927, Ivan “Ivica’ Vranetic was raised in a Catholic family of Croatian descent that prioritized acts of kindness and respect for one’s fellow. During his childhood, most of Ivica’s neighbors supported the Ustasa, a fascist organization closely linked to the Nazis. During the 1930’s, xenophobic ultra-nationalism was the prevailing ideology in Vrbas, resulting in intense persecution of the local Jewish community. At only seventeen years old, Ivica witnessed a Jewish doctor being viciously harassed by Croatian soldiers, and the youth immediately jumped into the fray to help. The soldiers turned their attention from the Jew to the brave teenager, beating Ivica so badly that he permanently lost hearing in his left ear. 

This traumatic episode only served to strengthen Ivica’s resolve to stand up against Jew hatred and fascism. Still living with his parents, Ivica reached out to terrified local Jews and helped them find hiding places with sympathetic Yugoslavians. Some of those he helped were children and elderly people, and Ivica carried them on his back. He continued to help those in hiding, bringing them food and medicine. For the next few years, as the persecution of local Jews increased, the young man kept putting his own safety at risk by helping them.

One of the Jews he helped, in the early 1940’s, was Arna Montilio, whose husband had recently been deported and killed in the Jasenovac concentration camp, leaving her the single mother of a toddler who was also caring for her elderly mother. Ivica settled all three in a secure hiding place. Arna later said, “I could have never survived with an old mother and a little girl without his help.”

The Germans entered Vrbas in 1943, and Yugoslav partisans fought Nazis in the streets. Ivica gathered information from the partisans and warned Jews when Germans were approaching. Sometimes he had to find new hiding places and transport them there, usually in the dead of night. 

Seemingly unconcerned for his own safety while helping others – most of them strangers to him – young Ivica risked his life repeatedly. It is unknown exactly how many Jews he saved, but he considered each one of them a friend for life, and kept in touch with them after the war ended. He had especially tender feelings for Arna, and proposed to her after the war, but both of their mothers were opposed to their marriage due to their differing religious heritages. 

Arna moved to Israel, where she re-married and had two more children. She and Ivica continued a frequent correspondence by mail, and twenty years after her immigration, he came to Israel to visit. Arna’s second marriage had ended, and the two were free to marry, which they did. A loving husband and stepfather, Ivica remained in Israel for the rest of his life.

In 1970, Ivica was honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem. He stayed involved with Yad Vashem, and was elected chairman of the Righteous in 1986. In that role he helped locate and honor other Holocaust heroes. Ivica and six Jewish survivors met Pope Benedict XVI in 2009 when he visited Israel. Ivica died the next year in his adopted homeland at age 84.

For protecting and saving persecuted Croatian Jews over several years, we honor Ivan “Ivica’ Vranetic as this week’s Thursday Hero. 

[stele3]

A History of (Supposed) Violence: Every Jason Todd Kill, part 1

Dedication: I am angry, I am autistic, and I'm about to make that everyone's problem.

Foreword: Jason Todd kills people. But has he killed as many people as fandom thinks he has? I'm starting to think the answer is a resounding no. Therefore, I am starting this series to list every single one of Jason Todd's on-page, confirmed kills, and -- to be fair -- all of the heavily-implied ones, too.

Caveat: I have not read every single comic featuring Jason Todd. But by God, by the end of this series, I will have. Do not send me angry messages telling me I have forgotten this glaring example of his murderous ways. I am moving in deliberate, exhaustive, chronological order. I will get to it.

Pray for me.

So, let's get to it, shall we?

Part 1: Batman, Vol 1, #424, "The Diplomat's Son"

(Trigger warnings for rape, suicide, the criminal justice system's ineffectual treatment of women.)

Jason, as Robin, finds a woman who has been brutally assaulted by a diplomat's son, Felipe Garzonas.

The criminal justice system proves ineffectual: even before they find out he's got diplomatic immunity, Jim Gordon is waffling and saying something to the effect of, "It's he-said-she-said, we just don't have enough evidence, boo-hoo." Even Batman's hands are apparently tied, since the best he can do is get Felipe deported back to the fake Latin American country from when he came. Woebetide to the women of that fake Latin American country, I guess.

Felipe immediately calls Gloria, threatening to assault her again. She apparently commits suicide (though I'd be real fucking suspicious of those circumstances, frankly). Jason is horrified.

Finally, the infamously ambiguous ending. Jason claims that Felipe slipped, but it's strongly implied that he might've pushed Felipe over the edge of the railing to his death.

Death count: 0 (1 implied, a rapist and abuser of women who was going to get deported back to his home country where he would be able to continue his rape and abuse of women)

[beardedmrbean]

CHICAGO – Community activist and Chicago Against Violence founder Andre Smith may be a Democrat, but he says he's willing to work with incoming Trump border czar Tom Homan to deport illegal immigrants from the Windy City. 

"I welcome in Chicago the border czar [Tom Homan]," Smith told Fox News Digital in an interview. "And [truth] be told, I wouldn't mind working with him seeing that I was the first person in Chicago to stand up and fight against the migrants."

Smith, who is also a preacher, has been on the front line of helping his community in Chicago, from helping the homeless population to fighting against local efforts by Mayor Brandon Johnson to disperse migrants throughout the city. 

"I would love when he come[s] to Chicago to work with him, and getting them expedited back where they came from," Smith said of Homan. "Because to lie to a federal official is a federal offense, and if they came over on the pretenses of they are in fear of their life, then you have women, you have men, and all of them said they're in fear for their life because someone is going trying to kill them, and lying, you have to make examples."

Smith's comments come as many Chicago residents have been outraged by "sanctuary city" policies that have brought in thousands of migrants to a city already plagued by one of the highest violent crime rates in the U.S.

"Here we are in Chicago, where we [are] supposed to be celebrating a season of joy, love and happiness," Smith continued. "And a lot of people have Christmas trees and under their trees in Chicago. We are unwrapping gifts of neglect. We are unwrapping gifts of disappointment and heartaches. We are unwrapping gifts of $575 million of taxpayer dollars given to and misallocated to give to illegal migrants. We need solutions, and we need change."

Following President-elect Donald Trump's re-election, Johnson — who allocated millions of dollars to migrant resources — vowed to defend the illegal migrants residing in Chicago, saying "we will not bend or break," according to local news outlet WTTW. 

"Our values will remain strong and firm. We will face likely hurdles in our work over the next four years, but we will not be stopped, and we will not go back," Johnson said.

Meanwhile, Homan spoke in Chicago last week and told local Republicans he wanted Illinois Democrats to "come to the table," but if not to "get the hell out of the way."

That comment sparked a fiery response from Rep. Delia Ramirez, D-Ill.

"Tom Homan, the next time you come to #IL03 — a district made stronger and more powerful by immigrants — you better be ready to meet the resistance," she warned.

"You may think Chicago needs to get out of the way of Trump's plans for mass deportation, but we plan to get ALL UP IN YOUR WAY."

Ramirez's comments add to a growing number of statements from Democratic leaders nationwide vowing to oppose or refuse cooperation with Trump's mass deportation plans. 

But while Homan may face opposition from Illinois Democrats, there's one Democratic leader willing to work with him: Illinois Gov. J.B. Pritzker. 

"Violent criminals who are undocumented and convicted of violent crime should be deported," Pritzker said at a Northwest Side GOP gathering last week. "I do not want them in my state, I don't think they should be in the United States."

Pritzker, 59, is considered a potential 2028 Democratic presidential hopeful.

[ketrindoll]

This is the story of Antanas Gedminas. A simple man from Mosedis, Lithuania

He was forcefully deported, like many other people, by the russians in 1947. He was 40 years old, sent to Gulag in Karagand, Kazakhstan without any documents or personal items, barely dressed.

While in exile, he decided to walk back home, to Lithuania. The walking journey of 4000 kilometers with no maps and no way to ask for help. Soviets used to shoot those who tried to escape.

Having found a crumpled up and binned document, he pretended to be deaf and mute, and walked from station to station, using rail tracks as a way to navigate. He would walk at nights and sleep on days. More than once he was severely beat up. Sometimes he would take the train, hidding behind the wagon tool box.

When he reached Ukraine, he had to cross the Dnipro river. He did it by hugging a floating tree trunk. Because he was very exhausted, he went house to house begging for food and help. In one of such houses he found an executed Ukrainian family.

After three months of journey he finally reached Lithuania, his native Samogitia. When he came home his family couldn't recognize him - he weigh barely 50 kilos.

He later started a family, having 4 sons. Today he would've been 116 years old.

[my-tones]

Comeback - How would the sdv bachelors react if you disappeared for a few months?

Yeah yeah I know, my blogs been dead for literally a year i’m SORRY i never said i was stable lmfao. Anyways, here’s my apology return post, the premise is pretty much just the farmer had a little breakdown and ran away for a bit to god knows where, leaving behind the people who cared for them, and then the reactions when they came back

Alex

- : o

- mans flabbergasted

- You left an athlete. No matter your size, this man straight up pulls you off the ground and into the air, squeezing the life out of you.

- Once the initial shock wore off, he was in tears. After some consoling he admitted he felt like he did when his parents left all over again. He thought he’d never see you again.

- He admits he spent a lot of time in the fields around you farm, they proved to be good space to work out in. An added benefit to spending time in a place that reminded him of you

Elliot

- You skipped the shocked stage with him, he launched STRAIGHT to the waterworks.

- He’s a blubbering mess, trying his hardest to show you all the poetry he wrote about you in your absence, though it was hard to read considering it was still wet with his tears.

- He was by far the most dramatic, especially at first, but once he calmed down he refused to leave your side. He was clinging to your arm like a child.

Harvey

- I like to imagine you walked into his clinic in the middle of working, and he thought you were his patient for the day.

- “Oh, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you till-... Farmer?”

- He’s trying so hard to keep it together.

- He acts casual, like you leaving didn’t hurt him that much.

- “Welcome back. Should I even bother asking where you went?” Dad mode is ON and he is SALTY.

- he does eventually forgive you lol

Sam

- Sort of a mix between Alex and Elliot. He is instantly upset, but eventually says it reminded him of the times his dad is deported.

- He had asked EVERYONE if they knew where you went, and finding out no one knew crushed him to his core. He missed you, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.

- But then, like Harvey, he gets a little salty. How could you do that to him? He gets over it much quicker though.

Sebastian

- This man is FUCKED UP

- You had been convincing him to leave his house more, be more open, maybe socialize a bit.

- You were his rock, his support through all the scary life things.

- Then he was alone.

- He sees you and immediately looks away. He can’t even look at you after what you did. But, oh god, he misses you so much. But he won’t cave, so he continues to miss you even from so close.

- It takes him days, maybe even weeks, before he’ll even talk to you. No matter how often you show up to his basement, he won’t open the door.

- He finally lets you in a little again, but it takes even longer to get him to open up again.

Shane

- Like Sebastian, but instead of having a basement to retreat to he has a beer can to empty.

- He doesn’t even want to feel the sadness, so he doesn’t, masking his feelings with a cold one.

- Again, like Sebastian, he doesn’t want anything to do with you at first when you come back.

- However, unlike Sebastian, he warms back up quicker.

- When you go to explain to him that you simply couldn’t handle life anymore for a bit he gets it. He’s easier on you than anyone else. He gets it so much it hurts.

- He asks you if you ever feel like that again you come to him inside of running away. He missed you so much, but he understands.

[alarajrogers]

Just re-reading some of my old "for the love of God vote for Biden so we don't get Trump" posts, and I'm super happy that instead we have Kamala Harris, who people seem to be excited about... but I did notice a recurring theme in the leftist opposition (aside from refusal to actually understand electoral politics or pay attention to what's going on outside of the one issue they care about):

"We need to smash the existing system because it doesn't serve anyone! We need a revolution!"

It is understandable that Americans should believe in this fantasy. We have been taught that our Glorious Revolution that started this country was the height of righteousness and a wonderful thing for the whole world.

The problem is, it wasn't a revolution except in the most technical sense. It was the overthrow of a distant colonizing power and the institution of locally controlled government.

"Revolutions" that get rid of distant colonizing powers and grant the locals self-governance are often pretty successful, because the locals have a structure for self-governance already -- no distant colonizing power has ever been successful by installing nothing but puppets at every level of government in the entity they're trying to govern. But they're not really revolutions. They're the overthrow of occupying powers.

France took inspiration from us, misunderstanding what our "revolution" really meant, because they hadn't had 250 years to understand colonialism and what it meant and how it behaved... and their revolution involved unspeakable bloodshed and then takeover by a strongman who wanted to conquer Europe, and came damn close to doing it. How many French people died in the revolution? How many in the Napoleonic wars? Yeah, eventually they got their shit together and got a better government in place. It only took them a hundred years after the revolution... which, by the way, killed 16,000 French people. There were not that many nobles in the country. During the century of unrest that followed -- Wikipedia quotes this:

"Every [French] head of state from 1814 to 1873 spent part of his life in exile. Every regime was the target of assassination attempts of a frequency that put Spanish and Russian politics in the shade. Even in peaceful times governments changed every few months. In less peaceful times, political deaths, imprisonments and deportations are literally incalculable."

The Russian Revolution killed even more people. They started with the idealistic notion of a state that would wither away, and ended up with totalitarianism, and widespread hunger and black markets, because their version of Communism had to start with a state strong enough to strip everyone's property. They had a brief period of free press and free speech from the mid-80's when the Wall fell, to the 10's when Putin started turning them back into a colonizing empire. Now they are no better off than they were before the Revolution -- overall better food and health care, maybe, but less freedom to speak out against the government.

Oh, but our revolution would be different, right?

I want y'all who hope for revolution to seriously ask yourself these questions:

In the US, who has the most weaponry (outside of official government functions like military and cops)? How strong is our military? How leftist are our soldiers, in general? How leftist is the country, in general? Who controls the media that tells most of the country what to think?

I will answer those questions for you:

Right wing gun nuts who hate queers, Jews and Muslims and are not real happy with the notion that women and black people are human

Strong enough that if every single right wing gun nut rose up in revolution to kill our elected leaders, the military could put them down

Not very leftist at all

Our "left" is the rest of the world's center or moderate right

Big corporations, and a disproportionate number of evangelical Christian billionnaires who control those corporations

In other words, a violent leftist revolution is NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN. Never. Not in our lifetimes, at least. And I'm including three year olds in that "our" there. And if it did, it would probably condemn our country, and most of the world, to unrest for a hundred years, and might result in us ending up with a far-right-wing dictatorship at the end of the churn.

The far left wing of this country -- the communists and extreme socialists who want to see all or most capitalism destroyed -- are a tiny minority of the nation. The progressives, who want stronger socialist protections but are okay with capitalism existing with stronger controls, and who want to see all people being treated as equals, are not a minority but have almost no guns in comparison to the right wing. Guns are actually necessary in rural areas due to the existence of wolves, bears, coyotes who will eat your chickens, etc, so even if we had excellent gun control measures, the majority of the non-government weapons would be held in the rural areas, which are predominantly white, Christian, and have been largely taught that queers, Jews, Muslims, atheists and socialists are evil subhumans. But most of the non-military weapons are held by cops... who exist to protect property rights and are so riddled with racism, sexism, ableism and corruption that good cops often end up dead rather than being able to change anything.

When do you think a minority of leftists who mostly do not have guns are going to be able to mount a revolution against the most powerful military in the world, against cops who are willing to drop bombs on civilians (check out the story of MOVE in Philadelphia, and recall that the cops have gotten worse toward civilians since then), against the people who feel like they're not really safe unless they have twenty-seven guns in their home and they know how to shoot all of them?

Your leftist violent overthrow of the wealthy will never happen, because all the wealthy will do is use the media to redirect a substantial number of you into attacking Jewish doctors and lawyers for being "rich" instead (or for being "Zionists", which is happening right now, because anti-semitic hostile powers like Iran and Russia have infiltrated your leftist spaces and filled them with misinformation), and the people who should share your class consciousness think you should be dead for not being a straight evangelical Christian, or for believing in Communism, or both.

Your only hope is to change the culture. Change the government through non-violent ways like peaceful protest, calls and letters to your representatives, and voting. Change people's beliefs by writing, teaching, running for office and speaking, controlling school boards to make sure the next generation are taught to question authority and not mindlessly accept everything the media tells them. Make things better in little ways, then crow about it so everyone knows you did it, then use that to prove that you could make things better in bigger ways if you were given the power to do so.

You have tried, election after election, to "teach the Democrats a lesson" by withholding your votes, to make them go further left. As a result they went further right. Because if leftists don't vote, why should an elected politician care what they want? Go after the people in the middle who could maybe be pried loose from the right wing, by catering to them. That's how we got Don't Ask Don't Tell and the Defense of Marriage Act and welfare "reforms" that fucked over poor single moms and why we still don't have national marijuana legalization despite the fact that Bill Clinton admitted to smoking it in college. When a strategy has not only failed to work but has made matters much worse, over the course of at least 20 years, maybe 50, why do you keep pushing it like it changes anything?

You argue, votes don't change anything. Has nothing changed in 50 years? Corporations have more power now than when Howard Beale yelled "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore" in the movie Network, in the 70's. Real wages are down. The job I do paid $90 an hour in 2010 and now it pays $70 -- that's not "with inflation", that is actual numbers. AIDS happened and killed untold thousands of gay men, drug users, hemophiliacs and people who needed blood donations, because the left wing didn't come out to support Jimmy Carter, so we got Reagan instead. Reagan didn't cause AIDS, but he did his damned best to make sure that AIDS research got no federal funding. Many things got worse because you didn't come out and vote.

Things have also gotten better. Because people who are nowhere near as far left as you economically, but who believe all humans should have rights, have voted, so now we have a world where on paper everyone is equal and discrimination is illegal, which is nothing at all like a world where everyone is actually equal but a hell of a lot better than a world where people are allowed to legally discriminate. But meanwhile things turned to shit for the working class. Because you guys are the ones who put pressure on the government to protect people's economic rights, and you abdicated because you wanted to teach the politicians a lesson. Well, you sure did. You taught them that nobody who votes cares all that much about economic justice. It's only now that late-stage capitalism and corporate/right-wing control of our economic system has gotten so toxic it affects the middle class, that we're seeing any economic reform at all or any pushback against corporations -- because you gave up. Because you declared, on the basis of no evidence because most of you are 20 and the rest have become so beaten down by life that you're hopelessly cynical, that votes don't matter.

The right wing buckled down and voted. Every election. Dogcatcher, school board, municipal waste authority, whatever. Vote for the person who gets you closer to where you want to go. And as a result, we are on a precipice where, despite how unpopular their extreme ideology is nation-wide, they are on the verge of being able to achieve it -- the rollback of everything we've successfully achieved throughout my lifetime, 55 years of progress, gone. Or, we can have leadership who have been trying to push a progressive agenda, uphill both ways but they're doing what they can.

This is where we are. Because you want moral purity. You want to absolve yourselves of all the bad things American leaders do by not voting for any of them. But since you had the power to vote and you didn't use it, there is no absolution for you. Everything an American leader does that is worse than what his opponent would have done, your hands are dirty if you didn't vote against him. And if you wilfully refuse to understand that voting third party in a presidential election is basically not voting at all, and that all it does is make both of the large national parties that are capable of winning ignore you, and that this behavior is why we are in such a shitty place right now...

Well, maybe you think your conscience is clear, but honestly, you are the guy standing next to the trolley lever operator, saying, "Well, I didn't do anything to stop him from making sure 1 guy died instead of 5, because making 1 guy die is as bad as making 5 guys die, so my hands are clean!" And then the next trolley operator comes along and wilfully kills the 5 people on the train tracks and you didn't stop him either, because the last guy killed 1, and you refused to accept that your choices were 1 or 5. And because you gave away all your actual power, and fantasized about power you don't have and never will, you imagined that someday, in a perfect world, you and your friends will fix the trolley system so it never hits anyone. But you aren't even engineers, you won't pick up tools, you don't join public transportation planning committees, and you won't even stop the guy who keeps turning the lever to kill 5 people because the 1 on the other track gives him money, because the other guy killed 1 to save 5 and that makes him just as bad in your eyes.

[pedripics]

Pedri: "On the pitch I don't think; I do the first thing that comes into my head" | EL PAÍS Deportes - Translation

The Barca player breaks free in the Spanish national team, the team that is making waves at the Euros.

He seems shy, but he is not. In fact, he is one of those who spreads joy at Spain's training camp in Donaueschingen. And although he doesn't really enjoy interviews, Pedri González (Tenerife, 21 years old) is relaxed and fun. And he has a message for his team-mates: "I would like to say that Nico is very bad at Play". A state of mind that is reflected on the pitch, liberated as a midfielder in the Roja team that shines in Germany.

When was the last time you cried with laughter?

"Twenty minutes ago. We were in the gym and a physio took a big hit and it was… Someone's falls, someone else's bad feelings without the person actually hurting themselves, make me laugh a lot."

Are those the videos you get the most on TikTok?

"Falls, a lot of monkeys and food, especially chocolate. It's a bummer because I can't eat that. It's more than forbidden. They take everything away from me [laughs]. But if I win the Euro, before I go on holiday, I will eat chocolate."

Have you thought that it's been less than four years since you made your debut in La Liga?

"A lot of people say to me: 'It seems like ten years have passed'."

And how do you cope with the feeling of time passing?

"I certainly feel like a lot has happened because of the things I've learned. You're so into what you do, whether it's a World Cup or a European Cup, that when you want to start thinking, you're already in the next season."

What would you say to the 17-year-old Pedri who came to play for Barça B and ended up in Messi's team?

"That he enjoys the day-to-day and everything he does. It goes by very quickly when you think about it…. For a footballer the most important thing is to find what makes you good. In the beginning, for example, you don't have much idea about nutrition or what to do in a gym. But as you start to gain experience, you find what works for you."

Has it hurt you not to have trained at La Masia?

"It was different. Players who have been trained in La Masia are accustomed from a very young age to a certain type of work that other quarries do not do so much. For example, another thing that is not about the game is the interviews. At Barcelona, they've all practised, they've done a thousand with the club's television. But when you get caught out of the blue..."

Has everything happened too suddenly?

"And on top of that, they take away the good things you used to eat… [laughs]. But you adapt: it's your dream."

Have you talked to Lamine Yamal about these experiences?

"In the first few games of the EUROs I told him to be calm, to enjoy himself. I explained to him that if he did what he knew, he would do well. And we see how he does it."

Is it true that you are all day with Ferran Torres?

"Now a little less, because he plays Call of Duty and I'm very bad."

Has Ferran introduced you to his interest in mental health?

"Yes. One minute in ice water. He's been doing it for a year. He goes in every morning, before breakfast: ice water up to his neck and before getting out he also dunks his head in it. He got so annoying about it that he convinced me. And now I can't stop doing it. I've been doing it for three months now. It's good for my muscles, it wakes me up, it activates me. I recommend you try it."

With the number 10 in extinction, how do you feel in the position of playmaker instead of the interior?

"I'm closer to the danger zone. Everything I do has more relevance to the game. Also goals and assists, of course. On the other hand, when you are a bit further back you help to bring the ball forward. It's true that in today's football there are few coaches who use a playmaker. But there are many players with the qualities to play there. It's a position where I feel comfortable. I enjoy it."

Why?

"Because when you receive the ball you are already in a position to face the center backs, to shoot or to provide an assist. It is spectacular."

Did they play videos to show you how to move in that area?

"Yes, at the beginning. Luis [de la Fuente] told me that he wanted me to play in that position. He explained to me how I had to press, where I had to position myself when we had the ball. He showed me videos of other players from national team games. He wanted me to see the model of the game so that I could understand the playmaker's position. He also showed me videos of me at Barça to analyse what I needed to change and what he wanted me to improve."

Which players stand out for you?

"There are a lot of people. Wirtz has had a great season. Musiala, I've played against him, I like him a lot. You've seen the season Bellingham had. And I shared a dressing room with Grizi. He is a player I love."

Griezmann has reinvented his position a bit.

"Now he's like a false forward. He makes plays, scores goals, gives assists. He is super complete. When he was at Barcelona I laughed a lot. Very nice guy."

And when you were a child, who did you look up to?

"I looked up to Iniesta a lot. He didn't play in that 10 position, but he had the qualities to do it. In fact, he could play anywhere: as a winger, on the inside, on the outside. He had that ability to turn. David Silva also turned spectacularly. Players who know how to be between the lines, who know how to profile themselves to have an advantage over the opponent."

Is the twist the most important thing?

"With good control you can face the centre directly. If your back is turned, the midfield reaches you, you can't turn and everything becomes a bit more complicated."

How far in advance do you think about what you are going to do?

"When I'm on the pitch I don't think too much. I improvise. I shoot with the first thing that comes into my head. I know there are a lot of people who also visualise the gameplays or situations that can happen in a game. I don't do that. I prefer to go out on the pitch and do whatever comes out."

And what do you think about before the games?

"I try to be calm, I listen to the music playing in the locker room. Now we made a list with the teammates in which each one put a song. I put on Zero Hour by Myke Towers. It's good. At least nobody says to take it off when it's playing."

Did you like any of the other Euro teams?

"Germany is at a spectacular level. There are teams like England and France, who may not be playing a great role, but they have players who are going to get involved at any moment."

You don't see the title being only between Spain and Germany?

"Not at all. There are teams that are not playing at a good level, but they are going to do their best. There are people who say that you have to lose a game, look at the example of Argentina in the World Cup."

Is the player also winning?

"When you gain minutes you settle into the team. In a national team you don't know your teammates as much and you gain confidence. Surely we will improve"

You have arrived fresher, but without so much rhythm.

"When you don't have a competitive rhythm, it's noticeable. But when you have looser legs, you go all out. They always say that quality players don't have to run or defend, but I don't think like that. When everyone works, the team is better."

Do you finish games more tired than usual?

"No, I'm very well. Above all, because of the work I've done to get there. I have found something that has been very good for me."

What is it?

"A specific type of work for me. It's a secret [laughs]."

How do you get on with marketing?

"Well, I'm doing fine. At the beginning I didn't like it very much, but I've accepted it. The situation is worth it. It depends on what it is, I like it. There are some things that are more fun."

For example.

"When I take the photos for a campaign I get a bit lazy, but then when I see the result I like it."

When you arrive in a city and you see yourself on the posters, what do you think?

"Let's see if I look good [laughs]. My mother always passes them to me. The one in Doha was huge."

Who was the last person you made cry with laughter?

"I haven't made anyone here cry with laughter yet. But I will. I'm going to make Ferran Torres cry with laughter."

[insane-control-room]

a lot of you are going #freegaza and completely ignoring the massive spike in anti-semitism globally. i see a bunch of you talking about birthright and aliya as though its a big scary conspiracy.

yall dont know shit about us.

for thousands of years, we yearn to return home because of your oppression. when we get comfortable, shit like the progroms and the holocaust happens, because of course our loving goyishe neighbors will never try to kill us, or at least, they wont turn us in to those who will. when we try to leave, shit like getting deported to siberia and getting "disappeared" happen, and our goyish friends will tearfully promise to take care of our belongings- and simply never return them.

you tell us "go back to where you came from".

we're trying to do that. and you hate us for it.

we say "אם אשכחך ירושלים תשכח ימיני", and we have been saying it since it was compiled in psalms. you all glorify our pain, and ignore it.

you all make us into scapegoats, and say we deserved it. you all pillage our holy places, search for our holy artifacts, and denounce us as a people as you do so. your crusades and inquisitions lay long forgotten by you, but not by us. our memory is stronger than yours, apparently.

you desecrate our final resting places, you burn swastikas on our doors, and you do it in the name of freedom- a Mask of freedom, hiding Sunni Islam law and a long history of forced conversions, honor killings, hinduphobia and inherent anti-semitism. these people are not calling to take over the land for freedom, they are literally calling for jihad. they kicked us out of their lands- where is the outrage for us? these are a people who say JEWS are not welcome in the land they came from, and in saying birthright and aliya is bad, you do too.

i want to go home.

i will never be able to go home if as you guys want, hamas 'wins'. there is no winning here. you all wouldnt blink an eye if israel was nuked because you think everyone in it is a murderer and a settler.

were there because its our home. the land accepts us when you dont.

i WILL go home.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

The Guardian:

The Biden administration on Friday extended temporary humanitarian protections for about 230,000 Salvadorans and 600,000 Venezuelans living in the US, in an effort to shield those groups from an incoming Trump administration that has promised to deport them. The decision in the dying days of Joe Biden’s presidency came after immigrant advocates and lawmakers urged the Department of Homeland Security to extend temporary protected status (TPS), designed to protect immigrants from being deported to countries that are engulfed in disaster or conflict. DHS cited environmental conditions in El Salvador – which in recent times has been hit by a series of extreme weather events – which “prevent individuals from returning” to the country. The agency extended protections for Venezuelans “based on the severe humanitarian emergency the country continues to face due to political and economic crises”, the department said. The announcement came as Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro was sworn in for a third term in Caracas, despite widespread domestic and international condemnation over his alleged engineering of a fraudulent election victory and his leading the country in an increasingly repressive direction since he took office in 2013. The US announced a $65m bounty for Maduro’s arrest and the arrests of two close allies on international drug-trafficking charges, and rejected Maduro’s claim to the presidency. About a million immigrants from 17 countries are protected by TPS, including people from Venezuela, Haiti, Honduras, Nicaragua, Afghanistan, Sudan and Lebanon. Salvadorans are one of the largest beneficiaries, having won TPS in 2001 after earthquakes rocked the Central American country. The TPS designation gives people legal authority to be in the country but doesn’t provide a long-term path to citizenship. People with TPS are reliant on the government renewing their status when it expires. Donald Trump and JD Vance, his vice-president-elect, suggested during their election campaign that they would scale back the use of TPS and policies granting temporary status as they pursued a campaign pledge of mass deportations. During his first administration, Trump ended TPS for El Salvador, but the process was held up in court. Advocates have stepped up pressure on Biden to ask for TPS extensions for those who already have it, and to protect people from some other countries, including Guatemala and Ecuador. “This extension is just a small victory,” said Felipe Arnoldo Díaz, an activist with the National TPS Alliance. “Our biggest concern is that after El Salvador, there are countries whose TPS are expiring soon and are being left out, like Venezuela, Nepal, Sudan, Nicaragua and Honduras”.

President Biden extends TPS protections for more than 800k immigrants from four countries: Sudan, El Salvador, Venezuela, and Ukraine.

See Also:

AP: Biden extends time in US for 800,000 Venezuelans, Salvadorans as Trump readies immigration crackdown