#truly this is just proof that if someone hates books there's a solid chance you just haven't read the right story

[kanerallels]

Fun update to this post is that not only did my little sister finish the graphic novel, get impatient, and then start reading our copy of Keeper of the Lost Cities, but she also brought it with her to the horse camp thing she's going to today so she can read during lunch

[stxleslyds]

NIGHTWING #81

UMM... HOW ABOUT NO. 

Ever since Tom Taylor took over Nightwing I have only made a post about one issue of his (I will leave it here Nightwing #78), that issue was beautiful, it was a solid start and the little things that made me feel a bit icky were not mentioned in the post because the issue was good.

Then the issues felt like connectors or just very bland story wise. I had problems with the book also feeling like a Nightwing and (fake) Oracle book instead of just Nightwing. There were many instances where Dick alone could have gotten himself out of situations without Barbara, but because she was there the opportunity to show that he can do things was taken from him. I guess what I am trying to say is that the book has disappointed me but I didn’t feel like making a post because it was too early and this is an ongoing book that Taylor said he planned on continuing for a while, but now I can’t not make a post.

A few days ago, I finally read the Red Hood story in Urban Legends (I have a review for that one too I will link it here Red Hood part 4) and I couldn’t stand how OOC and disappointing the story/characterization has been. I am saying this because I am only reading these two books at the moment, ONLY these two, and all I have gotten from them is shit.

I know it’s still early to say that the Nightwing book is bad but…I hated this issue, I hated it with all of my heart. But now that I am a bit calmer, I have come up with some ideas of what is truly going on with the Melinda situation.

Anyway, let me give you my thoughts.

There are big Wilson Fisk vibes coming from both Blockbuster and Melinda Zucco. Those two will lie, manipulate and be evil every chance they get. They are working together to make Nightwing disappear. I know it. The whole “make us all much wealthier and to extend your power beyond the city” idea does not include Nightwing.

Melinda might not want to burn anything down but she sure isn’t a hero. This woman accepted the position of Mayor after watching Blockbuster kill the former mayor. I understand that talking with the BHPD isn’t the best idea but this woman feels way too comfortable in the presence of a killer.

She is cunning and she has plans, I strongly believe that she might be a villain and that she will betray Blockbuster and take all the power (if it reaches that point) to herself.

Heartless is just another weirdo, he tricks both Nightwing and the reader into thinking that he has a soft spot for kids but surprise! He doesn’t. There isn’t much to say about him, he just has very complex gadgets and doesn’t know how to fight. I don’t even have any ideas about who he might be.

What I know though is that there was absolutely no need for Dick to think that he had “underestimated” Heartless, my love you threw your stick at him while he was looking directly at you, there was a 50/50 chance of him catching it. I swear I don’t understand the need to write him thinking that mostly because Taylor then has Dick swiping the floor with the guy, not only is it a simple fight (for Dick) but it’s also boring for him. Taylor’s writing is so annoying sometimes, he just loves to write extra things that are out of place like the “Tim Drake. Thought of by many as the best Robin” why the fuck did he put that there? Honestly, what was the point of having Dick say that, I don’t read a Nightwing book to have Tim Drake praise. If it doesn’t offer anything to the story that is being told then keep the thought to yourself Tom...

Moving forward the scene in the pier was quite nice, mostly because it’s Dick’s quick thinking that gets everyone to safety, he knows exactly what to do and how to contact the Maritime distress channel.

He has hope for his city, he knows there is good in it and he believes help will show up when lives are about to be lost. I loved that, just like Heartless said, Nightwing IS Bludhaven’s Guardian Angel. Once again, I am having Daredevil vibes from Dick (like from the show)

After the fight we get to see consequences of Dick not healing properly from a shot to the head. He loses his consciousness which is extremely dangerous but luckily Tim is at arm’s reach to help him out of the pier.

There are many things I want to talk about from the scenes that happen after Dick wakes up in his apartment so here we go.

First of all, Bitewing is adorable, she loves Dick the most and was happy to see him awake once more, what a good girl!

Secondly, Barbara, honey, you do not have three names, you aren’t Batgirl anymore, you are a grown woman that needs to move on from a mantle that has other people that can do something else/better with it. And we all know that this Oracle is just the ableist version of Oracle. So yeah…all I ask is for Barbara to move on from Batgirl, Cass and Stephanie are right there, enough is enough.

In these panels we have Dick, Tim and Barbara being kinda dismissive about the homeless kids, and it has been happening for so many issues, what is the point, Taylor? You made Dick a millionaire and you just can’t have him say or think for a second that he will monetarily help those kids and make sure they are put somewhere safe? You are really going to wait up until you have Dick running for Mayor or something to help the kids? I just don’t get it. Kids living on the streets and each time they are mentioned the three heroes of the book act like it’s normal and doesn’t need fixing. What the fuck.

Then we have the gang finding out that Melinda Zucco is the new mayor, the woman has an FBI file and a redacted one! This makes me think two things, either things are like I thought in the beginning of the post (she is evil and very good at it) or this woman is actually FBI and she is undercover (this one is less likely because of what happens at the end of the issue).

What we can see from the file that Barbara found is very little, but in these two pictures we can see that maybe she was put in foster care and x age? Also, she was apparently investigated in April of 20xx, the investigation must have been recent, why would the FBI investigate a minor or college student? What if these files were implanted by Melinda for someone to find them, and for her to have some sort of proof of her lies? If the file is about her being left in foster care or something while would the file be redacted? I don’t know, everything about her is shady and I don’t trust anything from or about her.

This could be a complex and very interesting character but Tom Taylor and DC really love to do stupid shit for shock value (more of this later).

All the new information (the Maroni, Blockbuster and now this very shady Mayor) has Dick saying that it is a bit too much for him and yeah, it is too much, you know who could help? Red Hood. I am of course not talking about current DC comics Red Hood, I am talking about the Red Hood that I would love to see, just yesterday I had an ask about who would I like to see working with Jason and I said Nightwing because Dick puts a lot of responsibility on his shoulders so it would be nice if they negotiated and each could work on different crime areas in Bludhaven, if only DC would hear me…

Anyway, now that we come to the end of the scene let’s talk about Barbara’s shirt.

That was unnecessary and not funny. That’s all it was. Yeah, I know it’s a meme and I know it was included for funny ha-ha purposes but I am not laughing. Bruce has been written as abusive towards his kids for so long, Jason, Tim and Dick have been physically harmed by Bruce and writers use it as just something that happens, there are never repercussions for the Bat. And this shirt sucks because Dick was Robin there and he was a kid, so having Barbara or anyone wearing a shirt with Batman hitting Robin!Dick right in front of Dick is just disgusting. What if someone wore a shirt that had Joker beating Jason with a crowbar in front of Jason, would that be a funny ha-ha too? What about Dick wearing a shirt with the Joker shooting Barbara, is that a funny ha-ha? The answer to those questions is no, it’s not funny.

The idea of that shirt shouldn’t have been pitched, drawn or included after the editor took a look at it.

The picture is a meme in our world, not in theirs. And the readers aren’t laughing.

 Back to the issue, Dick is left alone in his apartment to rest (seriously? You think the man that showed up to help Bruce in Gotham with a knee brace is going to rest?) but he can’t, he just found out that Mayor Zucco might be trouble for Bludhaven and might be working with not only Blockbuster but the Maroni family. He is not waiting one more second to have a chat with her.

Dick is obviously still concussed so of course he grabs a mask that has a camera that Oracle can view, and of course he enters yet another window without being careful.

Melinda and Audre were obviously waiting for him.

But here is where the real bullshit begins. Dick is unmasked.

I am so mad; it’s been four issues and Dick gets his ass in a trap and is unmasked by a villain? Are you kidding me right now?

But that’s not all, after Dick breaks free and accuses Melinda of being the daughter of the man that killed his parents, she pulls out a uno reverse card and says that her actual father is John Grayson, and that she is his sister.

How about no. Absolutely not. Go away.

Let’s re-visit Melinda’s appearances in the book so far so we can start theorizing about her real intentions or if she could be saying the truth.

Back in issue #78 where she is first introduced to us, after Melinda watches Blockbuster kill the mayor, she goes home and tells her Audre that she is now mayor because Blockbuster did what he does, so she knows that this guy is trash and a killer. But that’s not all, Audre asks her if she came across Dick Grayson to which Melinda answers “I am not ready for him yet”. Audre suggests she talks to him sooner rather than later because she might not have “another chance”, and the issue ends with Melinda agreeing with her while she is looking at a Flying Graysons poster with a red circle framing Dick’s face.

That whole thing? Shady. Melinda, obviously, wanted to talk to Dick Grayson, probably to tell him that she is his sister, but why is there a time limit, why is Audre telling Melinda that she can’t wait too long? Is it because her undercover work is ending soon? Is it because it’s not real at all and she needs to tell that lie in order to move forward with some sort of plan? I don’t know…

In issue #79 Melinda (and Audre) are out in the open with Maroni and they are talking about her becoming the next Mayor, Nightwing was watching from afar so this is his first contact with her. And it might be the first time that Melinda and her friend see Nightwing in action too. I cannot tell if she is aware that Nightwing/Dick Grayson are the same person here.

In #80 she doesn’t make an appearance.

But now in #81 she is taking her place as Mayor of Bludhaven, there Commissioner McClean takes her somewhere she didn’t expect to go (she is shown not knowing that Maroni and Blockbuster were in the next room over). Once in the room she refuses to take the cash from McClean but she will take the money as a transaction (for a second I thought she wouldn’t take the money but she did because she is very corrupt) and talks to Maroni once more. Before I talk about what happens with Blockbuster let me say this, she acts so distant to Maroni, she calls him Mr. Maroni every single time and she comes off as cold and feeling no type of way while talking with someone that is part of the family that actually raised her, and this is not because she is in a room full of other people, she did it too in #79. It seems weird that she acts that way with someone that took her under his wing since she was eight years old.

When she sits with Blockbuster he says “tell us your plan for my city” to which she says all of this: “My plan, Blockbuster, is to make us all much wealthier and to extend your power beyond the city. But to do so in a way that builds on the good work you’ve already done I have no interest in burning anything down.”

At the start of the post I said she gave me big Wilson Fisk vibes and that right there is why. She is shady, she has plans on top of plans, she calls Roland Desmond Blockbuster to his face but says that he has done good work for Bludhaven, which is weird because Blockbuster destroys Bludhaven a couple of times a year…

As I said before whatever she has planned does not include Nightwing, and here is where I kinda start theorizing a bit more, what if Blockbuster told Melinda Nightwing’s real name, he used to know who he was once upon a time…

Later in this issue when Nightwing is going to Melinda’s place Audre is already waiting for him right next to the window (with a sword), so, was he making an insane amount of noise or were they told to be ready for him?

Melinda traps him and takes his mask off, she barely seems surprised about Nightwing being Dick, she barely reacts when he jumps at her. She is in complete control of the situation and proves that by disarming Dick, as fast as he accuses her of being Zucco’s daughter she tells him that her real father is John Grayson.

She is in complete control. She has to be lying, she put a stop to whatever Dick had to say and do in seconds. This woman is trained and she is manipulative as fuck!

And if she isn’t lying then fuck DC and fuck Tom Taylor, this woman is either younger or the same age as Dick, John Grayson was not a cheater, the man is dead, has been dead for so long, don’t throw dirt on his name at this point. I refuse to believe this is true.

I honestly think that she is evil, and knows more than we are aware of, her first appearance was shady as fuck, let's suppose that she didn’t truly know that Dick was Nightwing, why on earth did she have a Flying Graysons poster with a red circle on top of Dick’s face? That doesn’t seem like something a sister would do! And why would this be information that is so important that she NEEDS to tell him in a certain amount of time?

It’s fucking insane. Tom Taylor, if she is actually Dick's sister then shame on you. Disgusting, what is with writers and cheating, what the hell is going on? Dick doesn’t need to think back to his parents and see a cheater in one of them. This better be Melinda being a cruel and vile human being that is trying to emotionally hurt Dick/Nightwing so she and Blockbuster can do whatever its they want to do.

That’s all I have to say.

[jungleslang]

I'm sorry, but I cannot understand people who say that Elriel shippers hate Lucien and want to cause him pain or are advocating for him to experience pain and ultimately be unhappy. I understand that the mating bond is a huge deal in fae culture, and that it's more difficult to deal with for the male than for the female. But shipping Elain with Azriel despite this does NOT mean that I hate him. The opposite is actually true. It literally makes zero sense.

I've seen this argument too many times throughout the years, and I saw it again today, so I've decided to address it. I'm going to discuss why Elriel doesn't equal Lucien being unhappy, as well as some Elriel and Vucien foreshadowing, and why this could lead to Lucien's happiness. Be aware that I'm obviously biased, and this is in no way meant to hate on Elucien or Elucien shippers. I'm just addressing this specific argument. All ships are valid, and we don't ship shame in this house. This is just my personal opinion, and I know that what I ship might not be endgame.

Also this is gonna be pretty long, don't say I didn't warn you.

I want to start off by saying that a big reason why I don't ship Elucien is honestly BECAUSE I love Lucien. Elain has consistently shown not even an ounce of interest in him for the past three books. Lucien himself also says that Elain was "thrown at him," while Jesminda, his past love, chose him. Elain has never used or shown her appreciation for any of the gifts Lucien gave her (which is her right). She has clearly stated that she does not want a mate. She also currently has feelings for Azriel, and it's been said that Elain "shrinks" in Lucien's presence, her newfound boldness suddenly gone. I'm sorry, but why would I want this for Lucien?? Why would I want Lucien to be with a woman who does not love him and currently has feelings for another male? A woman who literally shrivels up when he is near her? Lucien deserves to love and be loved wholeheartedly. And of course, Elain does, too.

Additionally, Lucien's words about Jesminda highlight that having a choice and being truly chosen are things that matter to him. And who are the people that Lucien has actively chosen to be with? Jurian and Vassa. Lucien is a centuries old fae male, with experience in multiple courts, and he's chosen to shack up with two humans in the human lands. That means something, and it shows that Vassa and Jurian are the people he feels comfortable with, the people he trusts, and most importantly, the people who make him feel wanted. Wanted enough to literally live with them after all of his trauma, after being barred from his home in the Spring Court by Tamlin, a person he loved cherished more than anyone else. And Jurian and Vassa have also chosen him.

As someone who absolutely loves Lucien, THIS is what I want for him. For him to be with people he chose and who in turn chose him. I want what's best for him, and so far, the text has indicated that Jurian and Vassa are what's best for him. I mean come on, the three of them literally created a name for themselves, the Band Of Exiles. The one time we saw Lucien actually laugh in ACOWAR was when he was with Vassa at the end. He blushes at the mention of her and has a "spark" in his eyes when he talks about her. Let's also not forget about this part in ACOFAS:

Lucien says that he's not living with them, the manor belongs to all of them. And even Feyre remarks how he's more comfortable around them, two humans, than people of his own race. I feel like this part is so overlooked. To me, it really demonstrates that Lucien has indeed found a home with these people, a home that belongs to all of them, and that he feels he truly does belong with them.

Additionally, it bothers me when people imply that rejecting the mating bond automatically equals unhappiness while accepting it guarantees love and happiness. Elain and Lucien rejecting their mating bond does not mean that Lucien is doomed to be unhappy and in pain for the rest of his life. And accepting it does not mean they'll be happy, either. We literally have proof of this in the books, and it comes in the form of Rhysand's parents. Rhys says that his parents were wrong for each other, and that his mother eventually came to hate his father, only staying with him because she was grateful to him for saving her wings. That is not a happy relationship.

Also, something that is one of the biggest hints toward Elriel for me, is the fact that every single mated couple we see in the books that actually ended up together had feelings for each other BEFORE the mating bond snapped into place. Rhys had feelings for Feyre while they were under the mountain, and Feyre fell in love with Rhys before she knew they were mates. Nessian's mating bond also didn't snap into place until after they already loved each other. And we also have Kallias and Viviane, who were in love before they discovered they were mates. These relationships all had solid foundations before the mate bond came came into play. Romantic feelings were established before the bond. For Elucien, this was not the case. Their mate bond snapped into the place the day they met each other, which directly mirrors Rhys' parents, whose mate bond snapped into place the moment they met and who also weren't right for each other. (Coincidence? I think not.)

We also have to remember that we have never been inside Lucien's head, with the exception of that one scene where Feyre infiltrates his mind while he's talking to Elain. That one glimpse alone mainly deals with the feelings he has for Elain due to his instincts because of the mate bond. It's also where he says Elain had been thrown at him. We don't actually know the extent of what he feels or doesn't feel for Elain. We don't know if he has romantic feelings for her outside of his instincts because of the bond, which we know is important based on what we discussed above. Yes, Lucien gives her gifts and clearly wants to get to know her, but we don't know whether he's just doing this out of obligation because the bond is so important in fae culture. Which might also be the reason Elain hasn't formally rejected him yet.

I think that there is a decent chance that this is the case based on what we've seen in the books. I also get the feeling that Lucien might be pursuing Elain out of obligation because Elain hasn't given him the time of day, and they've had no meaningful moments/conversations up until now. He doesn't really know her. How can you have feelings for someone you don't know and haven't spent any real time with? There are also these scenes from ACOFAS and ACOSF:

In ACOFAS, Feyre says that Lucien doesn't seem to have a real interest in bridging gap between him and Elain. In ACOSF, Cassian says the words "my mate" drip with discomfort when Lucien says them. This indicates that he's not so comfortable with calling Elain his mate / having her as his mate.

I also think this part is important because the level of comfort the characters have with each other is a distinguishing factor of the ships. Lucien is more comfortable around Vassa than Elain, while Elain is more comfortable around Azriel than Lucien.

As I stated before, this is the only time we see Lucien laughing in ACOWAR. Additionally, his shoulders are loose, indicating that he is not only comfortable but also relaxed, which is a rare thing for Lucien in the recent books with all the shit he has going on. In contrast, there's always a tension underlying his and Elain's interactions. Based on the fact that Vassa is chatting with him "animatedly," I would say she's likely comfortable around him, too.

There are also these two passages from ACOMAF, which I'm sure every Elriel shipper already knows lol.

We can also see that Elain has been at least somewhat comfortable around Azriel from the start, even when she was afraid of the fae and engaged to a fae-hating man. She even engaged him in a genuine conversation about flying. These two excerpts also show that Elain is somewhat attuned to Azriel as well. She notes his body language and uses it to gauge the situation. This also indicates a certain level of trust in him. And this has only increased as the story progressed. He's content to just sit beside her in the garden, she tells him about her plans for the garden, and they stay up late talking to each other. Their interactions signify how at ease they are with each other, which I think is big thing for Azriel, who's always described as cold and filled with an icy rage. Rhys says it took Mor centuries to get Az to loosen up, but he eased up around Elain in a remarkably short amount of time for someone usually so closed-off.

So, the conclusion here is that Elucien is not the only ship that guarantees all characters' happiness as some people say. Lucien is completely capable of being happy and finding a home without Elain accepting the bond, and the evidence is in the books. The fact that Lucien actively chooses to live together with Jurian and Vassa, and that Elain has constantly chosen to be around Az while showing no interest in Lucien is the reason while I will always stan Vucien and Elriel over Elucien. It's all about choice for me, which is something that's also emphasized in the books and seems to be important for both Elain's and Lucien's arcs.

And all Elriel shippers absolutely don't hate Lucien. If I'm being honest, I actually like Lucien as a character more than Azriel. While I am a diehard Elriel stan and I adore Az, Lucien is a more interesting character to me. He was raised in the Autumn Court, lived in the Spring Court, and ended up becoming part of the Night Court, as well. Then we find out he's the heir to the Day Court, and now he lives in the human lands with Jurian and Vassa. He has connections to so many places, and yet struggles to belong. He was lost, and found a home with two other lost people. The Lost Queen Vassa, and a human who was resurrected in a world that moved on without him.

This is also why, in my opinion, Vucien / The Band of Exiles has so much more potential than Elucien. I don't want another story about mates ending up with each other. Give me the found family trope that is the Band of Exiles.

If you've made it through this whole thing, thank you. As always, I'd love to hear your opinions!

[askaceattorney]

These are letters regarding the situation that recently transpired. After this, we will no longer be answering any letters regarding politics. All of us agree that this blog needs to strictly stay out of politics. In truth, politics should never have been the center of this blog. After this, any letter regarding politics or the situation will be deleted.

This is a blog that focuses on answering letters to Ace Attorney canon characters. It does not discriminate anyone or any mod based on race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, politics, etc. and such actions are not tolerated. If you believe one of our mods is discriminating for whatever reason, show solid evidence and we will handle this privately. A support for a former or current president of a country is not proof of discrimination and neither are political memes posted on a personal account.

(More Politics Ahead)

Dear rogertheegg,

Co-Mod: Nope. Everyone’s welcome here, regardless of political leanings.  I’m afraid I’m as clueless as you are about what exactly happened with the two former Mods (they didn’t even say anything to me about it), but it’s all water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned.

Mod Edgeworth: Absolutely not! I have never tolerated political discrimination. You are allowed to believe whatever politics you want.

Dear kunaiman,

Co-Mod: High five.

Mod Edgeworth: Thank you very much for your support.

Dear Mistakes,

Mod Edgeworth: I’m not going to go into anything else regarding my politics, but I will state my reason for outing myself: I’m doing this for Co-Mod.  I do consider him a friend of sorts and I do not wish for him to have to suffer this blowback alone. So, if you want to state your grievances, go ahead.

Know this though, I am still the same mod you have met and have never hidden my character from any of you. My politics do not define my character and neither does Co-Mod’s politics define his character. The same goes for anyone else. I’m just someone that leans Conservative and voted for Trump. If that makes me a bad person, even if I do stand against any discrimination, then I will gladly accept it.

Co-Mod: So, here’s the truth about me, Donald Trump, the MAGA Committee, etc. (and this is from the horse’s mouth, so anyone who says otherwise is lying) -- I’ve never been a huge fan of the guy, but I supported the good things he did and wanted to do during his presidency -- creating jobs, draining the political swamp, promoting patriotism, and so on -- and for that, I feel no shame.  I also wished he could’ve kept his big mouth shut about a lot of things, but overall, I saw him as someone who stood up for people who’d been largely ignored before he came along -- namely, middle class Americans. If you see him and his presidency differently, I won’t hold anything against you for it, so I respectfully ask that you do the same for me.

Dear Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: Don’t worry, I know who you are. You maybe under anonymous, but when we receive your letter, it isn’t anonymous lol. What we do is place your letter in photoshop and get rid of all your identity. Thank you for your support and I agree.

This blog will continue, even if it’s under a very few of us. I will allow everyone to display their grievances in the comment section. They have just as much right as Co-Mod and I do.

If there’s anyone I wish for you to support, it’s Co-Mod. He’s the one being the most effected by all of this. I don’t believe politics should have been involved or that we should have to justify why we believe in our politics. Neither have to do with our love for Ace Attorney.

Dear I’m still surprised,

Mod Edgeworth: I’m guessing this is for Co-Mod, because it doesn’t seem like you’ve read my own defense. I literally stated that both Co-Mod and I support LGBT and that the letters deleted because of shipping had nothing to do with any political beliefs. Beyond what I stated in my defense (despite what Co-Mod states below), I won’t say anything more. Non of us have to justify why we support a former president. I have my reasons just like anyone else. It doesn’t make me a terrible person and I will forever stand for everyone’s rights to believe whatever politics they believe.

Co-Mod: It’s a shame I have to say this on an Ace Attorney blog of all places, but where is your proof that I or anyone on my side of the aisle takes any enjoyment in seeing anyone dead or oppressed, whether in a minority or otherwise?  I can only assume you’ve been listening to some skewed sources, or that there’s something huge I’m missing, because I’ve yet to see any right-wing groups reach that level of hatred.  (And if you know of any, please fill me in.  I mean that honestly.)

As for why I left same-sex attraction out of this blog, it’s simply because I see it as a divisive topic rather than a simply controversial one, (i.e. the death penalty, game piracy, etc.).  I’ve also proven several times that I’m not very good at addressing it without people getting rubbed the wrong way, so I decided to play it safe and not discuss it at all.  I’m happy to talk about it anywhere else, but a blog about Ace Attorney didn’t seem like the right place for it to me.  On top of that, there are plenty of blogs about peoples’ same-sex ships all over Tumblr, so why complain about this one?  If there’s a rule stating that Ace Attorney-themed Tumblr blogs are required to include those ships, I sure haven’t heard it.

I’ll admit this much -- like Phoenix, it’s something I can’t claim to understand, so maybe I still have some learning to do about it, but if I’m going to be accused of bigotry, I’d like to see some solid evidence of it.  Assumptions don’t count in my book.

Dear Dailystir,

Mod Edgeworth: Thank you. I’m not going to address anymore than I already have. I will not and refuse to mention anything else on my politics. Just like how you said, I am more at the center in the political world. I lean more Conservative, but I am Independent. I consider both Republicans and Democrats to be two different wings from the same bird.

I’m also glad you do not consider being a Trump supporter to be in the same basket as being a racist, bigot or any of that. These days, I can declare myself as a supporter of Andrew Jackson (I’m not btw) and not be against Natives, even though he was the reason for the mass genocide of thousands of Native Americans. I can openly support Martain Luther King, yet not be considered homophobic, even though he was against LGBT. I can consider myself a Bill Clinton supporter and not support raping women, even though that’s what he did in office. Yet, the moment I declare myself a Trump supporter, I’m automatically Anti LGBT, a bigot, a sexist, a racist and a phobe of some sort, because Trump supposedly is? What a world we live in! I can’t remember the last time supporting a political figure or celebrity made you a terrible person.

As for Mod Vera and Mod Maya, I still wish they could’ve said something to me or Co-Mod, if they truly felt uncomfortable. I’m still willing to talk to either of them and hear them out. I don’t blame them for doing what they did. I don’t know them or what life they live in. I have talked to someone, who had faced bigotry  and hate from Trump supporters in their area to the point of fear. I’ve even seen a Trump supporter bully an Anti Trump Supporter and I ended up reporting the bully, then calling them out for their behavior. I can say from experience that when you face real discrimination, it puts you in a state of fear to never express yourself or your identity. My family faced that and so did I. It’s the reason I’ve never revealed my race, gender or sexual orientation and can understand where Mod Maya and Mod Vera are coming from.

I think the real takeaway is to not judge anyone based on their politics, but also to not hate anyone who does. You will find bigotry on any side of the political spectrum from any group. To say there is none on any side is spouting ignorance.

Dear Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: It is sad, though even if I do understand where Mod Vera and Mod Maya are coming from, I still can’t justify them not talking to either of us first. They never spoke to either of us and assumed the worst out of both of us. They never asked us anything or mentioned their concerns. I’m certain, even now, they’re still assuming things.

Had they mentioned their grievances, I would have been willing to talk with them and work things out, but we were never given that chance. It kinda hurts, because they said they understood when I told them I was staying out of politics and was willing to admit that I supported Trump and am an Independent Conservative. Then, they pull the rug from under us and claim we are against ethnic minorities and LGBT. That’s why I wish they could’ve said something.

I’m still willing to talk to either of them, but I doubt they’ll want to hear from me. No amount of context is going to change that. If it did, they would’ve talked to me about it before leaving.

-The Mods

P. S. Co-Mod: As ugly as this can of worms is, it’s been a fun practice in defending my beliefs and decisions.  Never underestimate that skill, everyone.

Mod Edgeworth: I still can’t believe this was brought out at all. I’m so sick of politics!

[willow-salix]

The Shirt

This little thing is for @misssquidtracy and @soniabigcheese and was supposed to be a ficlet (tell that to the 2.5k that came out). It came about after a throw away comment to Sonia last night and then John ‘helpfully’ dropped the whole thing in my head fully formed. Enjoy!

Thanks to the awesome @myladykayo​ for the gorgeous shot of this dude!

"I don't need any new clothes, I told you that."

"And I didn't listen. Come on, John, you haven't bought anything new since college."

"And I'm happy with that, all of my clothes are perfectly serviceable," John continued to argue as Gordon towed him into yet another shop. 

As always they drew attention, Gordon because of his loud voice and, according to him, his swimmers body that the women loved. Gordon had always loved to be the center of attention, he'd reveled in it back in his Olympic days, proud of the knowledge that his promotional pictures had graced many a teenagers phone backgrounds and lock screens. 

John, on the other hand, had no idea what people saw in him and why they still watched him even when he was with his brothers. He knew his hair always drew looks and over the years he'd heard more than a few people whispering something about checking if he was a natural redhead, although he'd never wanted to stick around to listen too closely and had gotten out of there sharpish. He'd much rather just be left alone to fade into the background where his introverted wallflower tendencies could be appeased. 

"Well, I need new clothes and you can't leave a man to shop on his own, it's just not done," Gordon continued. 

"I'm pretty sure there's no such rule."

"I'm making it a rule, it's part of the bro code now," Gordon shot back, flicking through yet another rack of eye-wateringly bright shirts that even Hawaii would have disowned. 

"I reject your rule."

"You can't, I'm your baby brother, you have to be nice to me, that's in the bro code too."

"I demand to see written proof of this rule book that you seem to keep pulling things from whenever it suits you."

Gordon glanced at his brother, seeing his lips twitch as he fought valiantly to keep any display of amusement firmly at bay. John didn't often get the chance to hang out with his younger brother but he always enjoyed it, not that he'd ever admit that out loud, that would only encourage Gordon to up his annoyance level by at least five points. 

"Ha! You smiled, I'm off the hook!" 

"I did no such thing."

"You did, I saw it! The robot had a feeling- ow!" Gordon ducked out of the way, avoiding another cuff around the back of the head from his, far too lanky for his own good, brother who apparently had the reach of an orangutan. 

"I'm not a robot, you little jerk. Stand still so I can hit you properly." And there went the warm fuzzy feelings. Back to reminding himself just why said hang outs didn't happen more often. 

"Yeah, right! Like that's gonna happen." Gordon shimmied backwards through the rack of shirts that made the sun look dull and out the other side to freedom. "Too much time in space has made you slow, bro!" 

"What? HOW DARE YOU!" Without thinking John dived around the side of the rack, stretching out to grab at his grinning brother. "I'll show you who's slow!" 

"I am lightning, I am the wind!" Gordon dodged aside with perfect ease, avoiding the grasping fingers of his brother. 

"Full of wind, more like! Stand still!" How was the squid so fast? 

"Come on, old man, keep up!" 

John made another grab at the back of Gordon's shirt but the little shit wiggled out of his grasp like an eel. 

"Ha! Victory is mine!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about th-" WHUMP! John spluttered, screeching to a stop as he got a face full of fabric, evidently thrown by Gordon who'd decided that weapons were now in play. 

He flailed, tripping over the leg of a clothing rack as he stumbled blindly. He made a grab for the first solid feeling thing he could find, although his judgement of solid was woefully inadequate. He landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs, both his own and plastic, as the mannequin he'd inadvertently grabbed fell with him. 

"Gordon," he gasped, winded from his tumble, but the sound of his brother's hysterical laughter was all that he received by way of an answer. 

He yanked the material off his head, a shirt of some description by the looks of it, and staggered to his feet, dragging his dance partner up with him. 

He managed to get her upright and back on her stand after a great deal of huffing and many swear words muttered under his breath as Gordon continued to howl like a hyena, hanging onto a mirror to stop his own downward descent. 

Yanking her skirt back up where he'd accidentally yanked it down, John finally got the mannequin back in place and decently covered up. 

"Gordon stop laughing!" he ordered as he bent to pick up the shirt that had assaulted him before angrily turning to face his brother. 

"What a clumsy idiot," he heard someone whisper a few rows over, stopping him in his tracks. "Keep out of the way, he'll take us down with him next."

John ducked his head, his cheeks as red as his hair, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He hated being the center of attention and now, he risked a peek to confirm his suspicions, yep, now the whole store was looking at him. Great, just perfect. 

"I'm never coming shopping with you again," he hissed in Gordon's direction. 

"Too right. Did you see the shirt he's holding?" the woman's friend whispered back. "Anyone that picks out something like that should be avoided at all costs."

"He's looking, quick, pretend you haven't seen him!" Both women quickly looked away, suddenly extremely interested in a nearby coat. 

What were they talking about? John glanced down at the pile of fabric still clutched in his clenched fist. It was definitely a shirt of some description, beigey-brown in colour, but not just one shade, oh no, this monstrosity had at least four other shades of brown thrown in for good measure, all coming together in wavy lines of what-was-this-designer-thinking to form some kind of texan nightmare, complete with gaudy gold piping. It truly was hideous, quite honestly the most disgusting thing he'd ever laid eyes on and he'd trained with astronauts who didn't have control of their digestive systems yet. 

He looked around desperately to find somewhere to hide it away from his sight, ignoring Gordon who was taking deep breaths in an effort to calm down. 

There! He spotted a convenient looking pile of sweatpants on a shelf and moved over to stuff the offending article back into the depth of hell from whence it had crawled when a single, solitary thought tickled at the back of his brain. 

He paused, thinking, his brain hamster now awake and racing at top speed around its wheel. He glanced from the shirt to the women who had spoken before, then back down to the shirt. 

"I'm going to try this on," he announced to his stunned brother, marching past him to the changing rooms. 

He quickly stripped off his T-shirt, the one that declared that he was a communications engineer not a magician, and pulled on the horror shirt. Surprisingly enough it was actually made of quite a soft material, something his overly sensitive, due to time spent in low gravity, skin really appreciated. 

He pulled it closed and buttoned it up, rolling his shoulders to allow it to settle into place. It was remarkably comfortable, actually long enough in the body. He stretched out his arms, pleased to see that the cuffs didn't immediately hike up to his elbows. All good so far, but only one thing would assure its purchase…

He pushed open the changing room door and stepped outside. The effect was immediate as two men, three women and a toddler that had been independently milling around near the entrance took one look at him and, as one, turned as quickly as they could in the opposite direction. 

Grinning to himself he tugged the tag off the sleeve, grabbed his T-shirt from the changing room and headed to the counter. 

"I'll wear it out," he informed the cashier, loving the way he not so subtly averted his eyes, unable to look at him. "And I'll take as many as you have in stock in this size and the next one up too." The cashier rushed to do his bidding, desperate to save what remained of his eyesight. 

"See, I told you coming shopping with me was a good idea," Gordon grinned as they made their way back to the parking lot, their arms filled with bags. 

"I will admit that it had its advantages," John answered as they strode easily through the crowd that parted like the red sea, unwilling to risk being contaminated by their fashion flu. 

John breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like he could relax for the first time since they'd gotten there three hours before. 

"That shirt is magical," Gordon declared, watching in astounded awe as eyes all around them shifted to avoid looking in his brother's direction. "It's like a people repellent in clothing form, it's….it's…" he groped around for the right words. 

"It's perfect," John declared, lovingly stroking a sleeve like one would a beloved pet. And it truly was. It was like people had a filter, an ugly shirt firewall in their heads that made them avoid it at all costs.

He couldn't remember a time that he hadn't been stared at since the year he'd turned seventeen and hit his second growth spurt. In that year he'd shot up six inches, his lanky frame had filled out a little, his weedy arms turning into tightly packed muscles and he'd developed abs and a voice that had deepened a few octaves. Then, for some reason, his anxious aura with its go away vibes had become nothing but a challenge for most people, acting as a kind of siren call for them to latch on to him and decide that he needed to be included, chatted to and made the center of attention. 

Now it was like he was practically invisible and it felt amazing. Even with the neon orange shirt Gordon was wearing, people were mostly ignoring him. 

"I'm never taking this thing off again."

       ***

"Why am I always the one doing the laundry for you lazy arses?" Selene bitched as she dragged a massive basket of assorted Tracy clobber into the lounge where the assorted Tracys owners sat around in various states of lazy. 

"Because you love us?" Gordon answered, grinning cheekily. 

"Nope, that can't be it," Selene retorted, sitting down on the steps of the seating area to begin the mammoth task that was sorting and folding. She dragged out one of Virgil's plaids and folded it into some semblance of order and dropped it on the floor to start his pile. 

"Let me help," John offered, moving to sit beside her and take some of the pile from her lap. 

"Thanks, gorgeous."

"Whipped," Scott teased, reaching for his coffee cup. "Hey, Sel, if you're the only one doing the laundry as you claim, how comes you haven't managed to wreck John's ugly shirts?"

"Why would I?" she shrugged, balling up a pair of Scott's socks. 

"Because I know you. Any excuse to shop, right?" 

The socks made a handy projectile as she threw them at his head. 

"Thanks!" Scott grinned, effortlessly plucking them from midair. "Seriously though, look at it."

Selene looked at the shirt that was currently hiding the delightful chest of her even more delightful husband. 

"I fail to see the problem with it."

"Really?" 

"Hey, leave my shirt alone, it's perfectly serviceable, thank you."

"It's old, it has to be at least seven years since you bought them," Gordon joined in. "They probably don't even make them any more."

"They don't," John said, concentrating on folding one of Alan's T-shirts into a perfect square. "So nothing had better happen to the ones I have left."

"Now's your chance," Alan whispered to Selene. "Kill them with fire and you'll never have to see them again."

"Yeah, you know that he's got much nicer clothes in his wardrobe," Scott added. 

"I've actually grown quite fond of them," Selene answered, carefully folding one she'd plucked from the depths of the pile, smoothing it out like it was something precious. 

All three Tracys, minus one Virgil who was down in the hangars no doubt creating more washing for her to do by getting covered in grease and muck, stared at her like she'd just announced that she was going back to blonde. 

"What? How? You said that he's never looked better than when he's wearing a decent shirt, I had to give you a drool cloth at your wedding."

"All true," she shrugged, folding one of Virgil's vests to the best of her ability. 

"Yet you continue to let him walk about in, what was it you called it, his rodeo clown shirt?" Gordon asked, completely bemused. "Are we missing something here?" 

"I'm a witch," she started by way of explanation. 

"Duh," Alan snorted. 

"And I have a healthy respect for glamour magic, and that right there," she continued as if she hadn't just been rudely interrupted, pointing at the shirt that John was wearing, "is the most magical thing I've ever seen in my life." 

All three of them burst out laughing, unable to believe what they were hearing. Selene waited patiently for them to finish cackling like they had just cursed Macbeth. 

"Allowing the shirts to live is doing the world, and my arrest record, a huge favour. Now, if you'll excuse us…" she got to her feet, relieved John of the socks he was busily matching and dragged him to his feet.

"OK, OK, I'll bite," Scott continued to chuckle, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What makes you think it's so magical?"

"That should be obvious, nothing short of a miracle could hide that amount of sexiness. Why do you think I'm good with him hiding in Five when he's wearing that space suit?" She dumped the half folded pile of washing back into the hamper.

"I've decided that you lot can sort your own laundry, because I've got the sudden and overwhelming urge to see that shirt on our bedroom floor. Later, fashion rejects."

John put up zero resistance. 

"I love this shirt," he grinned, waving a cheerful goodbye to his stunned brothers as his wife yanked on his hand, towing him bodily from the lounge and on to far more pleasant things than chores. 

[sweetcurlyhaz]

Percy Jackson is an Hufflepuff- Part 1

Yes. Percy is an Hufflepuff, and now I’ll explain why. First, some brief introductions: English isn’t my first language, so sorry for my grammar errors. Pls be kind. Second, this is MY opinion, but I’ll argue with solid proofs, taking scenes from the books, comparing characters and more. Let’s go step by step.

-Why Percy is not a Ravenclaw? I really have to explain this? I think we all agree that Percy could never be a Ravenclaw.

-Why Percy is not a Slytherin? Oh, here we go. A lot of ppl think Percy is a Slytherin and I’m always like “WHAT”. And now I’ll show you why Percy could never be a Slytherin.

1- I think the best proof is in the Sea of Monsters, where at the end Percy give the Golden Fleece to Clarisse. We all know that Percy save the situation, that HE take the Golden Fleece, that HE saved Clarisse’s ass. Despite that, he gave the G.F. to Clarisse, who took all the credit. A Slytherin would never do that, a true Slytherin, already wouldn’t help Clarisse (not because Slytherin can’t be kind, but surely they’re not with ppl they don’t like), and above all wouldn’t give his/her own glory to Clarisse. Percy’s altruism, kindness and true sense of justice overcome his pride, glory and power. Is it just me that think about of our lovely Cedric Diggory? I mean, is almost the exact thing that Cedric does with Harry: he says to him to take the goblet fire instead of him. Percy does the same.

2- When he refuses to be a god. THIS. I mean, how Hufflepuff is this? What kind of Slytherin refuses a thing like that? I’ll tell you, NONE. Percy thinks about how wonderful should be being almighty, powerful, and immortal. BUT, he can’t abandon his friends and family. He could never do that, and this is so Hufflepuff, right? For Percy, family and friends always come first. In reverse, a Slytherin would take this chance because they are AMBITIOUS and they want to be POWERFUL (hear me out, this is not a bad thing at all). PERCY IS NOT AMBITIOUS, or he would have accepted to be a god! Also, what Percy ask to the gods, instead of being one? “all demigods have to be recognized, and all the minor gods should have a cabin at CHB.” His request is SO humble and SO unselfish that only an Hufflepuff could ask that.

3- His fatal flaw: loyalty. We all know that a main characteristic of being an Hufflepuff is loyalty, and that’s said all. But I’m a good person so I’ll explain this even if there’s no need, and also I’m sure someone could say “EvEN SLyThERin cAN be LoYAl”. Yeah, you’re right. BUT Slytherin’s loyalty is a lot different. Their loyalty is limited only to a small group of friends, and also if their friends affect their goals, a Slytherin is no more loyal to them. Example: Regulus Black. At first he’s loyal to Voldemort, because he truly thinks he’s right. But when he realize the means Voldy uses, Regulus goes against him (we love you Reg). His no more loyal because Voldemort’s behavior go against Regulus’ beliefs. Now, Percy (thanks to the gods) is a good person and has a straight moral on what’s wrong and what’s right. But have you ever think how dangerous he could be if he was evil? I mean, if someone dare to touch an hair of Annabeth he could loose his freaking mind. Evil Percy could be really a problem because his loyalty goes first of his other beliefs. He would do anything to protect his friends, anything.

Another example: let’s analyze the relationship of Percy and Nico. We all agree that Nico is an ambiguous character. He tries to kill Percy, than helps him, the lies to him, and more. I mean, he is the last character to be loyal to, right? But Percy still have faith on him, he’s still loyal to him. Percy asks Nico to bring the seven at the other side, and never doubts on him. A Slytherin would never place  such responsibility on a character like Nico (I love Nico, but that’s the true). This loyalty, deep and irrational, can only be of an Hufflepuff.

4-Another proof (there are A LOT) why Percy isn’t a Slytherin: he doesn’t want to be powerful. I write this before in the second point, but I have another proof from The House of Hades. Do you remember when he controls poison against the goddess of discord? Okay, at first he likes what that power makes him feel, he doesn’t want to stop. But when he sees Annabeth’s face he calms down. So, this thing with poison is a new power for him: but he never uses it. Remember when, under the sea with Jason, he says something like “I could have controlled the poison, but I didn’t. It was the goddess’ revenge and I deserve it.” A Slytherin wouldn’t have such problem, they would use this new power on their favor. But Percy’s sense of justice overcome the feeling of power, even if he likes it somehow.

5-I saw that a lot of ppl think Percy is a Slytherin because of the cunning thing. English is not my first language and I have never heard this word before. So I did some researches: cunning is another way to say “smart” “clever” “sly”. Is like being smart but in a malicious way (please correct me if I’m wrong!!). And they take as an example that part in the Mark of Athena, where’s Percy trick the enemy’s crew by inventing the story of the Diet Coke and Mister D. Or another one is Percy gets Luke to admit to all CHB that he poisoned Thalia’s tree. And others. All of this are valid proof but remember why Percy does it. We have to go deeper, not just looking on what he does but WHY he does it. And all the evidences I said to you above are connected to one point: his fatal flaw. He is cunning to protect his friends, he would do anything for them. Also, how long being cunning is a Slytherin thing? I think there’s a lot of misunderstandings about this. Being a Slytherin doesn’t mean you have to be cunning or whatever, and be an Hufflepuff doesn’t mean you have to be always kind. I’m really sad that we don’t have a GOOD Slytherin (Ik there’s Regulus, but we don't have so much informations about him) to compare with Percy, that would be awesome and constructive (J.K. take notes).

6- “He’s not patient, he can’t be an Hufflepuff.” Alright, so I assume who said this is because Percy has ADHD and dyslexia. Ehm...what? What’s this supposed to mean? Only because Percy is a trouble kid doesn’t mean he can’t be an Hufflepuff. I really hate this way of thinking. Now, patient is not just like “See the plant growing and never get boring or impatient because is too slow.” Being patient is more. Percy is patient? No, he isn’t. Due to his character, and his ADHD, Percy can’t be patient. But this is when it comes to manual and practical things, like fight, or when he plays on capture the flag or when he’s angry. Let’s analyse how is Percy in the relationships. Percy and Annabeth (I love them); at first it might seem that Percy isn’t patient with her: they argue a lot, they yell at each other and so on. But, in reality Percy is patient with her feelings (apart the Luke thing, Percy is so jealous), he never push her, he never ask to her anything on what she feels. Even when they’re engaged he says (in MoA) their relationship is like a little statue of glass and he was terrified of having scared her with his big (and lovely) plans. I think that being with Annabeth involves a LOT of patient.

His relationship with Nico: I mean, we all love Nico, but who doesn’t want to give him a slap after he lied to him in the SoN? I think Percy would love to do it (I’M KIDDING. NO DI ANGELO WILL BE HURT IN THIS BLOG). Percy is really patient with him, from the very start: remember all the questions Nico asks Percy? And he was so annoying, but Percy was patient with him. Another example: Percy and Tyson. We love Tyson, he’s like a big bear, but how annoying was with Percy and Grover? But Percy always stand by his side, never yell at him the way he really want, and he is really patient with him. I’m not saying that Percy is the perfect patient boy, but in some way Percy is patient too when he wants (Annabeth is less patient than him in my opinion).

Ok, I think I said all about this. I have a lot more to say but this is becoming a poem so i have to stop XD. I wish i could do just one post but it’d be extremely long so i will split in Part 1 and Part 2 this argument. In the next post I will say why Percy can’t be a Gryffindor :). There’s one more thing I want to say, and I think is really important. The house thing is sadly really restrictive. Rick Riordan’s characters have a complex psychology and are really well built. I think that see a character psychology only in relation to his house is wrong. For example, Percy is such more than what we said. But if we have to put him in a house we can’t look to all his peculiarities. It’s like a brainstorming: when I said Percy, I always think about his sarcasm, his loyalty, his bravery ecc. To put someone in a house of Hogwarts is necessary to go streight to the point, and analyze WHY he does something, not only what.

Thank you for reading this, I will appreciate it if you comment your opinion or if you reblog this. And remember: We’re not just a house. We’re more.

[unicyclehippo]

how abooout modern college au first kiss on a beach trip to nicodranas during spring break

‘Okay. This is now the second time I have had to turn this tin can around—‘

‘Watch it, Widogast,’ Molly warns from where he’s laid out on the back seat over Yasha’s legs. ‘Her name is Lucy and she’s the best thing that has ever happened to any of us.’

‘She ran me over,’ Essek reminds him.

‘—rather not do it a third time especially coming off the Byway. The traffic will already be very unpleasant—‘

‘I can appreciate dramatics, darling,’ Molly drawls, gesturing to his own resplendent get-up as some kind of proof before grinning wide as Essek, ‘but I don’t know if tapping into your chair counts as running you over.’

‘No, it totally does.’

‘Your opinion doesn’t count for shit, Beau, you would agree to anything if I disagreed.’

‘I mean, I’ll agree to that,’ Beau laughs, obnoxiously loud, and instantly quietens when a blue hand reaches up to smack Beau in the face.

‘Too loud,’ the owner of the hand groans.

‘Oops, sorry Jes, I’ll be quiet.’

‘—could kill all of you in here and no one would hear a thing—‘

From the backseat, Molly mimes cracking a whip. Beau just flips him off. ‘Yo! Caleb! Are we moving or what?’

Looking toward the man in the question, they can see that he has done a rather stellar job of folding his entire body over the steering wheel. Despondent, he stares blankly ahead at the garage wall, toward the homemade soundproofing Molly and Yasha had set up.

‘Hey - did you say something about killing us?’

‘Ja.’

‘Cool, cool. Starting off the holiday season well,’ Fjord drawls.

Clearly irritated, Caleb shrugs, the gesture scattering his too-sharp shoulders and elbows in various directions. ‘I have been talking to you all and you chatter away and do not listen. This is my warning,’ he announces, twisting finally to make eye contact with each of them. That’s rare enough of a thing that one by one they fall to obedient silence. Caleb lifts a finger, points accusingly into the back of the van toward them. Slowly, so they don’t lose a word of it, he says, ‘I will not be turning around again. If you have forgotten it, it is forgotten. This is your last chance to get something from the house.’ He waits.

No one moves.

Then, ‘I hate to be that person,’ Caduceus says in a low rumble, ‘but I need to go to the bathroom. Seems like the right time, since we’re home and all.’

There’s a sudden flurry of agreement like Cad’s admitting it opened the flood gates—thankfully metaphorically—and the van erupts in a flurry of movement and cries of pain as elbows slam into sides and feet stomp on feet and the van door rattles and careens open, hitting the end of the rail with a loud metal clang! and the others pour out. The ramp in the back is lowered for Essek with a solid thud, narrowly missing Beau’s foot.

‘You did it that time on purpose, Molly, you watch your fucking back in the water.’

‘No murder at the beach, Beauregard! You know how I am about water!’

‘...Sorry Nott. Watch your fucking back in the competitive volleyball competition, Molly.’

‘Oh no no no, if you think I’m going to be doing anything other than basking in all the glory I can legally get away with for the next five days, you’re very much mistaken.’

‘Maybe not,’ Beau says with a discomforting grin, ‘but I’ll be playing volleyball and who’s to say my aim won’t be slightly off? Keep both eyes open, Tealeaf,’ she warns, and trips on the stairs in her would-be dramatic exit.

Molly frowns after her. ‘Yasha,’

‘I’ll protect you,’ she says before he can ask.

‘Bless you, my love.’

//

With all of them bathroomed and fed and watered and settled comfortably again, Caleb takes his place in the drivers seat again and takes his thorough safety check once more.

‘Essek?’

‘Seatbelt and safety brake on.’

‘Yasha?’

‘Seatbelt on. Van door secured.’

‘Molly?’

‘Seatbelt on. Flammables packed away.’

‘Flam—‘ Caleb sighs. ‘Ja, fine, okay. Beau?’

‘Seatbelt on. Guns on full display.’ In the rearview mirror, he watches as she flexes, sleeveless as per usual. ‘Also, first aid kit full and close at hand.’

‘Thank you. Jester?’

He can feel the baleful glare boring into the back of his head as she lifts her head from Beau’s shoulder to say, ‘Awake. Seatbelt.’

‘You can sleep again, you just cannot lay down. It isn’t safe.’ She just grunts, pulls one of Beau’s arms across to hold like a pillow. Caleb’s eyes flick over to his oldest friend and has to shake his head; she’s reading, completely comfortable being manhandled by the other girl. He wonders if she even knows. ‘Caduceus?’

‘Hmm. What? Oh—safety check, yeah. Yeah.’ He pats his chest.

Caleb turns to clarify what, exactly, that might mean coming from the man, to find Beau also twisting in her seat. She flashes him a thumbs up and Caleb sighs. If only they could do this with clarity, with precision, they could already be on the road. It will never happen, not with this most motley of crews; in the two and a half years Caleb has known them, they have never once effectively planned a single outing. It is a wonder they get anything done at all, truly.

‘Fjord?’

‘A-yup. Seatbelt, plenty of water. And an empty one in case someone needs to take a leak,’

‘That is disgusting,’ Jester says in the same moment Beau says,

‘Smart.’

‘Really, Beau?’

‘I mean, yeah! We have some small bladdered people in here!’

‘Thank you, Beau, my thoughts exactly.’

‘No, it’s gross,’ Jester insists, and throws Beau’s hand away from her. ‘Neither of you touch me, don’t touch me!’

As the three in the middle row bicker, Caleb turns to his navigator. ‘Nott?’

‘Present! Seatbelted! Snacked up! Navigation route planned!’

‘You are the best of all of them,’ Caleb tells her, and enjoys for a moment the wash of complaints from Beau, and Nott’s shrill agreement, and the laughter of his friends. ‘Let’s be on our way, shall we?’

Nott holds the thick, soft-paged and somewhat worn directory over her head in her bony-fingered grip, shakes it triumphantly like one might a trophy. ‘To the beach!’

//

Jester sleeps well into the morning. She sleeps through Nott’s yelling as Caleb nearly misses the turn onto the Byway. She sleeps through a vigorous recitation of Molly’s brush with the supernatural in a graveyard—and Fjord’s near constant muttering of no no no and don’t tell me any more I don’t want to know, like the scaredy cat he is. She sleeps through the drive-through as well, as they order a late breakfast or early lunch and take off once more to the south. She sleeps through the yelling as they find the exit from the Byway onto the South Road, and it isn’t until late in the day as the peaks of the mountain range are coming into focus that she really starts to stir, pleasantly drowsy and warm under someone’s jacket. With a cuddle into the warmth beside her, Jester awakes with a happy sigh.

‘Hey.’ A soft voice greets her, gentle fingers carding through her hair and scratching in the perfect spot where Jester’s horns meet skull, pulling a comfortable rumble out from somewhere deep in her chest. ‘You awake this time?’

‘Mm.’

‘Want some water?’

Jester smacks her lips. They’re dry, as much from not drinking water as from the air conditioning that blasts dry and not particularly cold. They’d tried to adjust the temperature once but Lucy had broken down and refused to keep going until it was set It rights, so now they don’t dare.

‘Mm.’ A cool bottle is set in her hands. Not the drinking plastic like the dozen pack Fjord has brought, but smooth glass. Jester sits up more fully, blinks blearily down at the offering. ‘Thanks.’

‘Welcome,’ Beau says. ‘I got you a sandwich too—I know you said a burger so don’t jump me over it but you were still, like, fully asleep and a burger would’ve been soggy by now, so.’ She hands those over too, and two neatly folded napkins, and goes back to her reading. She reads the way she always does—intent, tuning out the world around her—but even so, when Jester finishes up she pulls a sanitising wipe from somewhere without pausing.

‘What are you reading?’ Jester asks now that she’s pulled fully into wakefulness. Her fingers start to itch to do something and she rummages in her bag for her sketchbook and pencils.

‘Book.’

Jester rolls her eyes. Cranes her neck in the most bothersome way she can to try and see the title. Beau laughs, lifts the book so she can see.

‘The Treatise of Yuma Falheich and the Expansion of 973–is this a history book, Beau?’

From the back of the van comes a sleepy, ‘Nerd!’

‘Yeah.’

‘But classes are over, we’re on holiday now.’

Jester watches in fascination and no small delight as the colour in Beau’s cheeks darkens; her blue eyes cut away from the book and out the window.

‘I - I know. I’m reading ahead.’

Caduceus hums a low sound that rises to almost a whistle. It’s a thoughtful, happy sound. ‘It’s nice to be able to do the things one enjoys,’ he says.

‘Beau,’ Jester whispers, ‘is he right?’

‘I mean, Cad is a little -‘

‘Not Cad.’ Jester’s grin pulls wide, wicked. ‘Molly. Are you a nerd?’ She laughs as Beau snaps her book shut with a huff—and promptly reopens it, slipping a blue piece of ribbon in to mark her place.

//

Beau doesn’t last long before she dives back into her book. Jester notices but doesn’t say anything about it. For as tough as she professes to be, Beau has something of a soft side when it comes to the things that are important to her. It wasn’t too long ago that Jester didn’t know anything about the other girl—for as vocal as she is about her dislikes, what she did like hardly ever seemed to come up. A flicker of anger rushes through her, turning her blood to ice as she considers why that is.

[armyhealth9-blog]

Anthony Colpo vs The Evil Duo (Harley “Durianrider” Johnstone & South Australia Police): Part 1

WARNING: This article contains words that rhyme with puck, skit, and even runt. If you don’t like strong language, then you should close this page immediately.

Ladies and gentleman, to my sheer astonishment, on 12 September 2017, I was arrested by members of South Australia’s largest street gang, South Australia Police (SAPOL). At first, the two arresting officers flatly refused to tell me exactly why I was being arrested. It was not until after I was handcuffed, had my ass repeatedly groped, carted off in a paddy wagon, and placed in a lock-up cell that I was finally told I’d been arrested based on allegations made by pathological liar Harley David Johnstone, of Beulah Park, South Australia.

Johnstone, bullshitter extraordinaire, told SAPOL that on 29 February 2016, I “jumped from the bushes” whilst he rode his bicycle and “sucker punched” him to the face. This sucker punch, Johnstone and SAPOL were alleging, not only cracked two of his teeth but caused $8,000-$9,000 damage to his bicycle. This version of events differed to the events already recorded by SAPOL after interviewing Johnstone and his ‘witness’, and it also differed to the events Johnstone described in YouTube videos he posted shortly after the alleged incident.

But as you’ll soon learn, there is nothing consistent, rational or honest about Johnstone and SAPOL.

Despite the fact I never hit Johnstone and caused no damage to his bicycle, SAPOL nevertheless proceeded to charge me with “assault and property damage.” Before I recount the bizarre events that ensued, and their outcome, I’d like to introduce to you the key players in this surreal saga.

Harley David Johnstone, a.k.a “Durianrider”. This evil waste of space claims to be a vegan, a former pro cyclist, and a tough guy. He audaciously poses as a diet and fitness expert, and aggressively markets himself as the epitome of all-round awesomeness.

In reality, he is a vile, ignorant, sickly, dishonest, cowardly, narcissistic and hate-filled sex predator.

Until 2011, I had little idea who Harley David Johnstone was. Unbeknownst to me, he was an obnoxious jerk who had already established a solid reputation as a virulent Internet troll. Johnstone’s modus operandi was to create ‘controversy’ by unceremoniously attacking other dietary and fitness commentators on the Internet. These attacks were invariably unprovoked, big on ridicule, and involved a battalion of defamatory lies about the victim. Johnstone justified his repugnant antics by claiming he was on a mission to rid the diet and health arena of “scammers”.

Never mind that he himself is the biggest, sleaziest and most obnoxious scammer in the entire diet and health arena.

Now, if you are going to accuse another health or fitness commentator of spreading mistruths or otherwise engaging in impropriety, you need evidence. If it is their dietary or health claims you are taking issue with, then you need to outline their claims and then present a thorough scientific breakdown of why they are wrong.

Johnstone, however, is a semi-literate bogan that has never read a single scientific paper in his life. His idea of a ‘scientific’ document is easily-debunked mass-market vegan propaganda like The China Study and Skinny Bitch. As such, Johnstone’s attacks on other diet and health commentators were solely of a personal nature, riddled with unfounded and extremely hypocritical accusations of dishonesty, poor physical condition and drug use.

Johnstone, of course, didn’t give two hoots about cleaning up the diet and health arena. Nor has he ever earnestly given a damn about other seemingly noble causes for which he claims sympathy, such as animal welfare or the environment. The primary goal of his behaviour was simply to draw attention to himself and his videos. This, in turn, increased his YouTube revenues and provided the insecure narcissist with the self-validating attention for which he so desperately craved.

Johnstone’s true agenda, in other words, was financial self-enrichment and self-aggrandizement. In pursuit of this dysfunctional agenda, one tactic routinely employed by Johnstone was to accuse his male targets – without any proof whatsoever - of using anabolic steroids. This, coming from someone who himself is a prolific and long-time user of anabolic steroids!

Johnstone: The idiot who attacks others for (allegedly) using steroids, while using them himself.

Incredibly, this hateful, talentless and monumentally hypocritical troll somehow established a sizeable following. Bless the perennially gullible human species and its penchant for worshipping useless, dishonest twats!

Thanks to his growing legion of moronic followers, Johnstone began earning sizable revenues from his monetized YouTube videos. This, of course, merely spurned the money-grubbing troll on to ever greater levels of defamatory nastiness.

“I’ll kick his ass, bro!”

And so it was in 2011 that the toxic troll known as Harley David Johnstone set his sights on yours truly. It was barely a day into 2012 when I received an email from a reader alerting me to a recent post on a cycling internet forum by some “psycho vegan.” This “psycho” was claiming he’d challenged me to go bike riding with him, but that I’d chickened out for fear of having my ass kicked. Of yours truly, our psycho vegan wrote:

“He still doesnt want to hit the local bergs with me cos he knows I will kick his a'ss and make a blog post about it lol!”[sic]

Not only was psycho vegan falsely claiming he’d challenged me to come riding and that I’d cowardly demurred, but he was also claiming I ate a “low-fat diet.”

Never mind that I consider the entire low-fat paradigm a total crock, and have publicly stated as much on numerous occasions. Heck, I even wrote a book outlining why the low-fat paradigm was a failed and dangerous sham.

I read the post in question and immediately wondered, “Who the hell is this wanker?”

It turns out that wanker was Harley David Johnstone, also known as Durianrider.

Needless to say, Johnstone had never challenged me to “hit the local bergs” with him. In an online reply to Johnstone’s hogwash, I told him that, if he really wanted to test my cycling prowess, I’d be more than happy to race him up his beloved Corkscrew Road. This is a winding <3km section of road in the Adelaide Hills that the demented Johnstone has repeatedly defiled with vegan graffiti.

But after announcing to the world he’d kick my ass, and incessantly bragging about what a magnificent cyclist he is, Johnstone suddenly caught stage-fright. History has since firmly established that Johnstone has never gone through with any of the challenges he’s made to the targets of his disaffection, and he certainly hasn’t met any of the counter-challenges they’ve made to him.

That’s because Johnstone is the quintessential Internet troll: An incurable little coward who is quick to mouth off about people online, but soils his panties at the thought of actually meeting them face-to-face.

While Johnstone clearly had no intention of standing behind his abundant bullshit, he started defaming me online every chance he got. Like a lot of belligerent Australians, Johnstone staunchly believed he had every right to mouth off about me, and that it was my duty to just sit there and obediently suffer in silence. This, as you’ll soon see, is also a cornerstone tenet of the notorious SAPOL.

Problem is, my concept of freedom of speech differs markedly to that of entities like Johnstone and SAPOL. In my worldview, freedom of speech operates on a two-way thoroughfare. If you are going to antagonize and make false and inappropriate comments and accusations about someone, then that someone is fully entitled to exercise their right of reply. You can’t swagger around like you’ve got the balls of a wild bull, lying and mouthing off to all and sundry, only to get your panties in a massive twist when the objects of your antagonism truthfully defend themselves.

But that is exactly what Johnstone and SAPOL do.

Unfortunately for Johnstone, and much to the chagrin of SAPOL, their self-entitled approach to freedom of speech is exceeded only by my dislike of liars, hypocrites and bullies, and my insistence on exercising my right of reply. As such, I refused to remain silent while Johnstone continued to issue an ever-increasing litany of lies about me.

I was even forced to hire a lawyer in 2014, after an especially bizarre episode in which Johnstone, using an alias, publicly claimed I’d purchased steroids from him. Johnstone further claimed, among other things, that I was obese, a scammer, that I claimed to be a scientist and that I wrote blog posts about not being able to gain muscular weight despite taking steroids (this, coming from an emaciated 65kg weakling who has injected more steroids than an IFBB bodybuilder)!

Really?

When was I obese, Johnstone? Who did I scam? When and where did I claim to be a scientist? Where are the blog posts in which I wrote about taking steroids?

And how the fuck could I have been a member of an Adelaide gym and purchased anabolic steroids from you there in 2005 when in fact I lived 900 kilometres away in Melbourne?

Johnstone, sleazy piece of pond scum that he is, knows full well I never was or did any of these things.

So I went to a lawyer, who sent Johnstone several takedown letters, and even arranged for a process server to corner him at a park in Queensland and personally serve him with a takedown notice. Johnstone, staunchly committed asshole that he is, refused to remove the offending material. At this point, the lawyer told me getting the material removed would mean going to court, arguing the matter before a judge, and hopefully getting a court order for the removal of the material.

Here in Australia, especially after the terribly sad death of Charlotte Dawson, our politicians and police commissioners have talked much tough talk about Internet trolls. Like so much of what these jokers mutter, it was all ultimately empty drivel. Here in Australia, unless someone explicitly issues a violent threat (and even then, the cops probably won’t give a shit), you’re pretty much on your own when it comes to battling Internet trolls. No matter how vile or damaging, getting defamatory material removed from the Internet in Australia is a ‘civil’, not criminal, matter. Meaning you have to pay for any removal attempts out of your own pocket.

Faced with the option of spending thousands upon thousands of dollars on legal action, the outcome of which is always an unknown, I grudgingly decided to give up the legal chase.

Johnstone thought he’d won, but his exploitation of Australia’s lax approach to Internet trolls would eventually come back to bite his bony ass.

You see, Johnstone is a true idiot who doesn’t comprehend the significance of the old maxim “two can play that game.”

Johnstone knows full well those who seek to have his defamatory bullshit removed from the Internet will need a lawyer, thanks to Australia’s “meh” approach to cyber bullies and the open-slather policies of sleazy companies like YouTube, Instagram and Facebook. He further knows that most of his victims can’t afford, or have no inclination to spend, the significant costs this would entail.

The problem for Johnstone is that his victims now know this too.

So when Johnstone accuses you of taking steroids, you simply go ahead and point out that it is in fact he who takes them. If he objects, just send him a link to this clip:

When he falsely calls you a scammer, you correctly point out that not only is he a scammer, he is also a pathological liar, a narcissist and a cunt.

When Johnstone maliciously accuses you or anyone else of sexual impropriety, you simply point out that it is he who forces himself upon young women:

If Johnstone wants to get such unflattering revelations removed from the Internet, he too will need to go to a lawyer and spend thousands of dollars.

But he will also be faced with an additional obstacle.

You see, while all the things Johnstone accuses others of are invariably bullshit, the things he has been accused of are true. So even if Johnstone were to cough up the funds for a lawyer, and that lawyer wrote you a nasty letter telling you to remove the ‘offending’ material, you could simply write back to the lawyer and tell both him and Johnstone to go fuck themselves.

Because it’s hard to argue something is defamation when it’s true.

And the truth is Johnstone is a scammer and a liar. He is a sexual predator. He is a prolific user of anabolic steroids. He is a sleazeball who falsely accused others of child porn and paedophilia, when it was in fact he that admitted he’d love to “fuck” an underage girl.

The evil maggot was also recently the subject of rape allegations, something we’ll explore in more detail in Part II.

Johnstone is a pathological liar who makes false allegations to the police in order to extract revenge on his non-compliant targets. As you’ll learn in Part II, the slimy little bastard even lied under oath in court.

Johnstone is a narcissist – his behaviour more than meets the criteria for pathological narcissism.

And, given the definition of “cunt” as a “mean or obnoxious person” … Johnstone is unquestionably a cunt.

If Johnstone wants to legally challenge you when you write this of him, he not only needs to engage a lawyer, he needs to prove the aforementioned facts are not true.

Good luck with that, Johnstone.

It was this realization that empowered me to pull the cyber gloves off and go to town on Johnstone. I might not have been willing to part with the $$$ required to nail the bastard in court, but there was nothing to stop me from going online and enlightening the world as to just what an evil, malevolent, dishonest scumbag the guy really was. This realization gave birth to the following exposes, which people all around the world have since thanked me for posting. And, boy, have some of those people shared some interesting revelations about Johnstone!

http://anthonycolpo.com/the-ugly-truth-about-harley-durianrider-johnstone/

http://anthonycolpo.com/six-reasons-why-harley-durianrider-johnstone-is-an-evil-worthless-prick/

Be sure to continue spreading those articles far and wide folks, because it is extremely important that people know the truth about the highly manipulative and evil Johnstone.

By the time I posted those articles, Johnstone’s attention-seeking, money-grubbing hate campaign was out of control. The bastard was like a runaway train - no-one was beyond the reach of his puerile antics.

Not even victims of cancer or domestic violence.

Harley the Scum of Scum, Case Study 1: Jennifer Faulisi

At only 33 years of age, American girl Jennifer Faulisi found herself diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer - the same disease that had already killed her mother. Jen had not had an easy life (she told the story of her troubled, dysfunctional upbringing here), and now she found herself on death’s doorstep.

Conventional oncology offered little hope, so Jen began looking into ‘alternative’ treatments. She learned of a cancer clinic in Mexico that sounded promising, but simply could not afford the clinic’s fees.

Jen then came up with a potentially life-saving idea – a GoFundMe campaign. She appealed to the “generosity” of the vegan community to help her raise funds for what she believed was her only hope: Gerson-style cancer therapy at the specialized Mexican clinic.

And initially, that generosity was forthcoming. Jen did manage to raise enough money to get to Mexico and begin treatment, where her condition began to improve.

Unfortunately, the vegan community also harboured other traits: Stupidity, malice and gullibility. So much so, that when an evil maggot by the name of Harley Johnstone came along and – incredibly – started publicly deriding Jen as a “scammer”, people actually believed him. Despite the fact Jen was indeed a genuine cancer patient, and despite video confirmation from her US physician, and despite the pleas of Jen’s stunned support team, people instead chose to believe some feral, sleazy, lying asshole from South Australia.

As a result, Jen’s funding dried up. She ran out of money and had to leave her treatment in Mexico, where her tumour had shrunk.

She died not long after, on April 4, 2016.

To add insult to injury, after Johnstone began making his patently false and malicious accusations against Jen, she found herself on the receiving end of an abundance of Internet hate.

Jennifer Faulisi – a genuine and very unfortunate cancer victim - went to her grave labelled a “scammer”, thanks to Harley Johnstone and all the fucking morons who looked up to him.

It’s been over a year since I first learned of Jen’s plight, but her story still makes my eyes water. How can people be so FUCKING STUPID AND EVIL?

Harley the Scum of Scum, Case Study 2: Ashlee Savins

In December 2015, 19-year-old Ashlee Savins was viciously beaten and bloodied by her 21 year-old coño of a partner, Justin Toro. The incident drew media attention when it was revealed that after the beating was promptly reported to NSW police, they did nothing.

“Sorry, we can't press charges without substantial evidence,” NSW's 'finest' told Ashlee. Apparently, being covered in blood, sporting a broken nose and a chipped front tooth wasn't substantial enough for NSW police. Nor were the messages from Toro in which he begged Ashlee not to tell anyone what he'd done, and blamed her for not letting him "vent":

"Ashlee please don't tell anyone I can't get done for this I'll lose everything," wrote Toro in a private message on Facebook.

"You have no one to blame but yourself," Ashlee replied.

"ok ashlee. do i acept [sic] you feel you didn't contribute to this in any way? maybe not allowing me to vent [sic]," replied Toro.

Hey Toro: If you want to “vent”, hit a fucking punching bag – not your partner’s face!

It was not until militant feminist Clementine Ford posted details of the case to her 94,000 Facebook followers, triggering a barrage of complaints of police inaction, that the cops suddenly developed an interest. Toro was subsequently served with an Apprehended Violence Order, and Ashlee was called in to the St Marys cop shop to give another statement.

So what does this horrible and infuriating episode have to do with Johnstone?

Everything.

You see, when the Doucherider read about Ashlee’s plight, he just had to chime in with his ten cents' worth. However, Johnstone’s contribution was not to chide the repugnant Toro.

Nope - it was to taunt and ridicule Ashlee!

No, I’m not kidding. Here, see for yourself:

Victim-blaming on steroids: This is what Harley Johnstone thinks of domestic violence victims.

Yep: According to Johnstone, the assault was “100% her fault!” Ashlee’s culpability, according to Johnstone, was due to her allegedly staying with Toro after he had previously assaulted her. This, Johnstone loudly proclaimed on Facebook and YouTube, made her a “dumb bitch” and “fucking doormat loser”.

Why was Johnstone so quick to come to the defense of someone who beats their partner? Because the scumbag beats his own partners. He has openly admitted to hitting his former partner Leanne “Freelee” Ratcliffe, and I have it on good authority he violently abused his previous partner.

Suffice to say, Johnstone is a truly horrible human being. It also goes without saying that Johnstone’s evil nature and his hateful behaviour are no secret. Anyone who Googles the asshole’s name will learn within 5 minutes just what kind of a truly malevolent, evil turd he really is.

So just what kind of a morally and ethically bankrupt law enforcement agency would ever team up with such a disgusting creature, in order to prosecute and harass someone they resented?

South Australia Police, that’s who.

Meet South Australia Police (SAPOL)

Boy oh boy. To fully capture SAPOL’s rampant malfeasance would literally take years, so I’ll try and make this as brief as possible.

South Australia, like numerous other Australian states, has introduced "anti-association" laws aimed at stamping out organizations with a penchant for criminal activity. The primary purported targets of these laws are Australia's outlaw motorcycle gangs or, in Australian lingo, "the bikies."

Now, I'm not here to defend the bikies: I think we all know what they get up to.

To believe the bikies and their hired PR guns, they're just a bunch of largely harmless good ol' boys who love getting together and riding motorbikes.

To believe the cops, bikies are all heinous, vicious thugs involved in drug manufacture and trafficking, prostitution and extortion.

The truth is many bikies are indeed involved in these activities - but not all. Some guys really do join biker gangs primarily for the sense of comraderie and the buzz that comes from riding down a highway surrounded by a hundred other thumping V-twins.

But even if you join a biker gang for seemingly benign reasons, you'll still need the ability to turn a blind eye to criminal activities. Because many of your new brothers-in-arms will be actively involved in illicit endeavours and they'll be using the intimidatory power of the gang to facilitate those endeavours.

Ever since they were first proposed, anti-association laws have been the subject of endless controversy. I fully agree they are problematic, but not for the usually cited reasons. My issue with anti-association laws is this:

They're not being applied equally across the board.

You see, under these laws, gang members are forbidden from wearing their 'colours' in public. And it is illegal for two or more identified members of these gangs to associate with each other in public. If they do, they can be arrested.

Trouble is, there is a gang roaming the streets of South Australia engaged in a wide range of criminal activities, yet it remains immune to prosecution. Not only does this gang boldly wear its ‘colours’ in public, but several years ago it flippantly changed them from blue to a more menacing paramilitary-style black. The message was clear:

“DON’T MESS WITH US.”

Members of this gang routinely swagger around in pairs and sometimes in large groups, in full public view. If you join this gang, you will quickly realize an ability to turn a blind eye to unethical and downright illegal behaviour is essential for continued membership.

Members of this gang have long engaged – and continue to engage - in all manner of illegal activity, everything from petty theft...

http://articles.baltimoresun.com/1991-09-07/news/1991250019_1_adelaide-police-australia-corruption

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-04-08/sa-police-charged-after-corruption-probe-may-face-more-charges/6377294

...and hoon driving...

https://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/south-australia/police-officer-matthew-lumsben-in-court-over-2017-crash-with-teenage-motorcyclist/news-story/b1ccc6e4c505a462372a3a494ef9d30f

...to assault and rape...

https://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/south-australia/police-officer-charged-with-rape/news-story/2e675e4161d437f2d75bb89da59b358e

...and drug trafficking:

https://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/nation/disgraced-drug-cop-dead-at-65/news-story/d11ef74f1f8b6cf67b3a5531f4a332d0

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-04-26/former-police-officer-jailed-for-trafficking-methamphetamine/9700304

And as folks like Brian Stanton and Mick Skrijel can attest, if you ever come forward with information about this gang’s longstanding involvement in the illicit drug trade, you can fully expect its members to make your life hell:

https://www.wattpad.com/10875719-hell-in-australia-the-mick-skrijel-story/page/7

https://www.todaytonightadelaide.com.au/stories/police-problem-part-1

https://www.todaytonightadelaide.com.au/stories/police-problems-part-2

I’m talking of course, about South Australia Police.

South Australia Police, or SAPOL as it likes to call itself, masquerades as a law-enforcement agency, when in reality it is little more than a taxpayer-funded street gang. If you think I’m exercising a wee bit too much artistic license when making such a statement, then I strongly suggest you read on. Keep in mind what follows barely scratches the surface in terms of SAPOL’s malfeasance.

Luckily for SAPOL, Australia is not a true democracy – it is a two-party autocracy. And luckily for SAPOL, everyone is not equal before the eyes of the law - some entities enjoy special treatment.

If Australia was a true democracy, and if all Australians truly were equal before the law, then SAPOL would find itself in a real pickle. That’s because the organization’s routine involvement in illicit activities and its penchant for strutting around wearing unifying ‘colours’ would see it tagged as an outlaw gang.

As such, SAPOL officers would routinely find themselves the subject of citizens' arrests every time two or more of them congregated in public.

The [Misogynistic] Men in Black

To give you a further idea of the true calibre of South Australia’s police, in 2016 the Equal Opportunity Commission released a report titled Sex Discrimination, Sexual Harassment and Predatory Behaviour in the South Australian Police Force. The title pretty much says it all. The EOC found there was a toxic "boys' club" culture within the force. When compiling its report, the commission heard from around 2,000 respondents - about 30 per cent of SAPOL. Of those respondents, 61 per cent perceived sexual harassment and predatory behaviour occurred in the organisation, 36 per cent had personally experienced sexual harassment and 45 per cent of respondents had personally experienced sex discrimination. The report found discriminatory and harassing behaviour was seen as being "acceptable and normalised".

A few months ago, I spoke with someone who for several years worked in one of SAPOL’s administrative departments. This person confirmed to me that SAPOL is, to put it politely, “a male dominated culture.” In less polite terms, working at SAPOL meant enduring hordes of inappropriate sexist comments from predominantly Caucasian buffoons who carried on like they were still trapped in the 1970s. While working at SAPOL, this person also experienced the ignominy of racist remarks about her ethnic group (the predominantly Anglo SAPOL would do well to remember that most people who commit crimes in South Australia are of Anglo descent).

So what sort of sexist stupidity do the lads at SAPOL get up to? Well, in 2016, a female officer filed action with the SA Employment Tribunal alleging she was sexually harassed while working with the SAPOL “boys club”. She says the lads at SAPOL sent her explicit text messages, ranked her attractiveness, and drew genitalia in her hat. The officer told the Industrial Court her male colleagues touched her and sent her crude messages while she was working, including one about a “gluten-free penis.”

The EOC found the reported incidence of predatory behaviour (i.e. the misuse of authority or influence to exploit others for sexual or other personal gratification) in SAPOL was 21 per cent higher than the general population figure (49 per cent vs 28 per cent).

Stop, for a moment, and let those shocking figures fully sink in. SAPOL personnel – the people entrusted to uphold law and order in South Australia - are more likely to be sexual predators than the average person! This, in a country whose rate of sexual assault is already a total disgrace (Australia has one of the world’s highest rates of rape. Having endured considerable racist abuse by those of Anglo descent during my lifetime, I also feel compelled to note the so-called “wog” countries like Greece, Italy and Spain experience only a fraction of the rape incidence that Anglo countries such as Australia, USA and UK do).

Source: European Institute for Crime Prevention and Control. International Statistics on Crime and Justice. HEUNI Publication Series No. 64: 25. Available online: https://www.unodc.org/documents/data-and-analysis/Crime-statistics/International_Statistics_on_Crime_and_Justice.pdf

Source: http://www.nationmaster.com/country-info/stats/Crime/Rape-rate

The types of sexual harassment reported of SAPOL ranged from inappropriate sexual comments and jokes to criminal acts such as sexual assault and rape. Sexual harassment was experienced across all levels of the organisation, with targets more likely to be women (not surprisingly). Of the perpetrators, 81 percent were men. While more sworn employees indicated having experienced sexual harassment across their lifetime employment at SAPOL, more administrative and specialist support staff reported being subjected to this behaviour in the previous five years. Reported impacts ranged from feeling uncomfortable to having thoughts of suicide.

The findings were so damning, SAPOL Commissioner Grant Stevens said he accepted all of the Commission report's recommendations: "Sadly what this review tells us, is there is an unacceptable level of sexual harassment and discrimination and predatory behaviour within South Australia Police and this means we have to do some work to change our culture."

The significance of this admission cannot be downplayed, because SAPOL’s usual response is to lie, deny and aggressively cover-up allegations of misconduct. So when SAPOL actually admits it has a problem with sexual harassment, you better believe it’s serious.

Racism is also clearly a problem at SAPOL, especially towards Indigenous Australians. In 2015 it was revealed a SAPOL constable questioning an Aboriginal man called him a “black cunt”, before saying he would like to tie a hose around his neck, set him on fire and drag him behind the police car “with the lights and sirens on”.

As both the acting SA ombudsman, Michael Grant, and his predecessor, Sarah Bolt, noted, the unnamed constable was “entirely unsuitable to continue as a member of the police force”.

“I am currently dealing with another complaint from Aboriginal people about the conduct of the same officer, which occurred only a few weeks after the abuse of the Aboriginal man in this case,” Grant said.

So what happened to this repugnant racist officer?

Pretty much nothing.

He was ordered to undergo "cultural awareness training as part of six-week disciplinary action at the police academy". No other penalty was imposed:

https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/oct/29/police-abuse-of-aboriginal-man-shows-racism-still-rife-says-warren-mundine

I can only imagine what would happen if an Indigenous Australian got in the face of a SAPOL officer and called him a “white cunt”, or if someone of Mediterranean descent told a SAPOL cop he was a “skip cunt” who deserved to have a hose placed round his neck, set on fire and dragged behind a car with the horn loudly blaring.

Something tells me they’d be forced to endure a lot more than a token six-week “cultural awareness” course!

As the old adage goes: One set of laws for them, another for us.

SAPOL’s Outrageous Hypocrisy

SAPOL presides over the most draconian and predatory traffic fine system in the nation, gleefully causing untold financial hardship upon thousands of law-abiding South Australians. In order to justify this vulture-like behaviour, SAPOL repeatedly cites the disingenuous excuse that it improves road safety.

If SAPOL is truly so concerned about road safety, why does it look the other way while its officers routinely break every law in the state’s road statutes? Instead of punishing these officers, why does SAPOL instead use intelligence-insulting excuses to cover for their law-breaking?

Here are some examples of SAPOL’s nonchalant disregard for road rules:

That photo was taken on 16 June 2018, and show a SAPOL car illegally parked on the footpath. This was outside a police complex on the appropriately named Bent Street. I’m told by others who work in the area that this is a routine occurrence. Those photos were taken just over a week before I was to stand trial on false assault and property damage allegations – an infuriating reminder that while SAPOL were free to persecute me on vexatious grounds, they themselves routinely get to break the law as they please.

And check out this pearler:

That photo was taken only a few days ago, on 22 September 2018. The location was a busy shopping strip in the Adelaide suburb of Norwood known as The Parade. It shows a SAPOL vehicle illegally parked in a bus zone. As any semi-conscious person with an Australian driver’s license can tell you, this is a big no-no.

When the law-breaking SAPOL officer returned to his illegally parked vehicle, the person who took this photo approached him for a little Q&A. She politely quizzed him about his unlawful parking etiquette, but received a rather impolite response. This is what transpired:

“I asked him how much I would get fined for parking in a bus zone. He did not answer my question but got all defensive and tried to say that he was attending an emergency at the rear of the building. That is bullshit because that would have been the rear of our shop. When I pointed out that there was more appropriate legal parking available he got all shitty and left.”

This illegal act occurred on a sunny Saturday afternoon - a time when the popular Parade is at its busiest. In other words, SAPOL cops are so cavalier, so convinced of their own exceptional status, they will illegally park in the middle of a busy shopping precinct. And they are so hypocritical and self-entitled that when you rightfully question them about it, they promptly get in a huff.

According to section 183(1) of the SA Road Traffic (Miscellaneous) Regulations 2014, the "expiation" penalty for stopping in a bus zone is $130 (see p. 25 of this pdf: https://www.legislation.sa.gov.au/lz/c/r/road%20traffic%20(miscellaneous)%20regulations%202014/current/2014.206.auth.pdf).

And according to section 197(1), the penalty for "Stopping on path, dividing strip or nature strip" is $97 (see p. 26).

A so-called "Victims of Crime" levy of $60 also applies to South Australian traffic fines (http://www.mylicence.sa.gov.au/road-rules/offences-and-penalties#summaryofoffences).

So if Australia was a true democracy, in which everyone was truly equal in the eyes of the law, South Australian citizens could approach wayward police officers like those above, and issue them with fines ranging between $157 and $190. But alas, Australia is in reality a two-party autocracy in which police can routinely break the law with impunity.

One set of laws for them, another for us.

In the above instances, the illegally parked SAPOL vehicles were stationary, limiting the amount of physical harm their law-breaking drivers could cause. When SAPOL officers get behind the wheel of a vehicle and actually start driving it, it’s best to keep your distance. Because here’s what can happen:

All indications are that the two SAPOL officers indulged in a spot of hoon-driving in quiet suburban back streets at night, when they figured they’d be safe from prying eyes. Unfortunately, things went a wee bit awry and they found themselves upside down in a wrecked police car. If you or I did something this stupid, we’d be in a lot of trouble. But the officers needn’t have worried: As always, SAPOL quickly contrived an intelligence-insulting excuse, this time claiming the officers were travelling under the speed limit of 50 km/h. As one of the residents who helped pull the cops from the crashed car stated, "I think they were doing a little bit quicker than that!"

SAPOL’s unlikely explanation immediately begs the question: How on Earth do you rollover a car when travelling at less than 50 km/h?

Either SAPOL wasn’t being straight with us, or the officer behind the wheel was an incredibly bad driver.

If I had to put money on it, I’d bet both.

And here’s another fine example of SAPOL driving:

Yep, in less than sixty seconds, this reckless SAPOL officer breaks no fewer than ten road rules. He speeds, meanders all over the road, crosses solid lines and overtakes on a traffic island, drives in the bicycle lane, and generally behaves like an all-round hoon. All that’s missing is a big fat, tyre-squealing, smoking burnout.

All this, mind you, in front of a learner driver. What a way to set an example!

SAPOL vs the Truth

To give you some idea of just how dishonest – not to mention thuggish - SAPOL is, let’s start by watching the following clip:

What you just saw in that clip is unmistakable: Two SAPOL officers standing over two unarmed homeless men, with the male officer – Matthew Shwarz – bashing them with his baton. The full Channel 7 footage of the incident, along with comments from witnesses, can be viewed here:

https://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/south-australia/charges-against-homeless-men-of-assaulting-police-dropped-magistrate-finds-officers-used-unnecessary-force/news-story/ab6aa97fbfe3fbfd505062afcf452653

In the above video, we see an enraged Shwarz beating the men with his baton; he also later admitted striking the men with his elbows and fists.

As a magistrate later confirmed, the men had done nothing wrong. Shwarz simply became angry when the men refused to talk with him - as was their legal right - and he became violent. I can hardly blame the men for not wanting to engage with Shwarz, because experience has taught me that when a SAPOL officer approaches, it means one thing and one thing only:

I’m about to get fucked over.

I’m about to receive a harsh fine, summons, or even get arrested, for something I simply did not do.

The homeless men, no doubt, were also very wary of SAPOL. Due to their limited financial resources and their “eyesore” status, homeless people constitute especially easy prey for domineering cops.

If anyone else launched a vicious assault on two innocent homeless men in full view of bystanders and a TV crew, they’d earn themselves a guaranteed – and well-deserved - ticket to jail.

But guess who got arrested in the above incident? That’s right: The innocent homeless men who got viciously beaten by Shwarz! Instead of arresting Shwarz, his SAPOL buddies helped him arrest the two battered and bruised men.

SAPOL prosecutors also knew full well what really happened, but instead of dropping the charges against the homeless men and charging Shwarz, they did the exact opposite. They threw their full support behind Shwarz and forced the homeless men to stand trial.

On 29 May 2014, Magistrate Stefan Metanomski dismissed all charges against both homeless men. The magistrate found the police had “exceeded their authority” when dealing with the men.

Magistrate Metanomski found Shwarz acted unlawfully by continuing to pursue the men after they made it clear they did not wish to speak with police. He noted the officer did not reasonably suspect the men of any crime and therefore had no authority to follow them.

Now here’s the real cracker: Along with exonerating the homeless men, Magistrate Metanomski said he found Schwarz’s version of events to be inaccurate and unreliable, finding there was a real possibility the officer was embellishing his story (in plain English: lying) to justify his actions. Even though the incident was caught on camera and widely broadcast, Shwarz still tried to “embellish” his version of events. And as he did so, SAPOL stood loyally behind him.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is how deeply ingrained the dishonesty is at SAPOL. Even when they are caught red-handed on camera viciously beating defenceless people, and even when their thuggish antics are broadcast on the evening news, they still try to lie about what happened!

While this saga was still playing out, it was revealed a second complaint of aggressive misconduct had been made against Shwarz. This time, a teenage P-Plate driver complained the belligerent officer had thumped on her car window and threatened her.

Despite his unprovoked violence and dishonesty, SAPOL did not terminate or even suspend Shwarz's employment. The Police Ombudsman called for the Shwarz’s police ID to be revoked in the interests of public safety but Commissioner Grant Stevens - who solemnly pronounced SAPOL "must  show  we  are  committed  to  preventing  inappropriate  behaviour,  supporting  victims  and investigating complaints and taking action as appropriate" - refused.

So much for fighting inappropriate SAPOL behaviour and supporting victims! The reality is SAPOL endeavours to cover up as much of its malfeasance as possible, instead arresting, prosecuting and harassing its victims.

The Director of Public Prosecutions decided not to bring criminal charges against Shwarz because he was in a "fragile and suicidal state of mind."

This then begs the obvious question: Why the heck is a mentally disturbed SAPOL officer who claims to be “fragile and suicidal” allowed to continue carrying a gun and other weapons while circulating among the general public … ?!?

Because SAPOL has a gang mentality, pure and simple. Like most outlaw gangs, its primary allegiance is to itself, not the public. When your comrades do something wrong, the gang’s ‘brotherhood’ mentality dictates you help them cover it up. This isn’t necessarily because you like them – I have it on good authority a lot of SAPOL cops can’t stand each other (I’m also told the overwhelming majority hate their job, a contention supported by the brief average career span for SAPOL cops - a mere 7 years).

Nope, you cover up for your miscreant workmates because:

One day you may need them to cover up for you, and;

If you don’t, you will very likely be ostracized and harassed by other officers and your ‘superiors’.

SAPOL’s secondary allegiance is to the South Australian government, upon which it relies for funding.

As for the public? Sorry folks, but you come a distant third. SAPOL officers frequently believe themselves to be above the law, and have little patience for those who refuse to treat them with the God-like respect they believe they are entitled to. You may rightfully believe that if you aren’t hurting anybody you should be free to go about your business unaccosted, but SAPOL doesn’t see it that way. When it comes to interacting with the public, the old maxim “treat others as you wish them to treat you” doesn’t carry much weight at SAPOL. As we saw with Matthew Shwarz, this obnoxious disdain for mutual respect and civil liberty can have violent consequences.

Another lucid example of SAPOL’s pervasive “put up and shut up” attitude towards the public is the behaviour of traffic cop Constable Norman Hoy. In 2015, the Advertiser revealed Hoy had been the subject of eleven Police Complaints Authority complaints (it should also be noted that SAPOL diligently tried to prevent the Advertiser from revealing this fact). According to a damning Police Complaints Authority report, "Hoy was a threatening, harsh, unfair, arrogant and rude bully whose insulting, unprofessional behaviour breached regulations."

SAPOL constable Norman Hoy: A "threatening, harsh, unfair, arrogant and rude bully".

In 2010, Hoy pulled over successful Adelaide businessman Yasser Shahin, who at the time was driving a Rolls Royce. Now, despite what some people think, being a person of Mediterranean/Middle-Eastern appearance and driving a nice car is not a crime. Indeed, at the time of being pulled over Shahin had done nothing wrong - he was driving along with his mum, wife and son, minding his own damn business.

So why did Hoy pull him over?

Because – wait for it – the factory-fitted windows on his Roller were allegedly too dark!

For chrissakes … who cares?!?

How the hell did that negatively affect Hoy or any other person on the planet?

Welcome to the Nanny States of Australia, folks, where governments and police fully believe they have the right to micromanage every last aspect of your lives!

The audio recording of the exchange between Hoy and Shahin can be found here:

https://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/south-australia/sa-court-jury-finds-police-constable-norman-hoy-not-guilty-of-assaulting-yasser-shahin/news-story/e778f1d1ff4b93c6556a55be6b368092

As you listen to the recording, it quickly becomes apparent why the PCA labelled Hoy an "unprofessional bully who was rude, arrogant and harsh to drivers." His manner and behaviour towards Shahin are truly disgraceful.

At the start of the audio, after sighting Shahin’s Rolls Royce, Hoy can be heard gleefully remarking: “I wonder who’s in that … aaaah, that looks a bit dark! Pull him over and defect the mother...”

Hoy and his sidekick Constable Alexander Wasley (who had only been on the job a week) proceed to sound their siren and pull the so-called “mother” over. When Shahin asks Hoy why he has been stopped - a perfectly reasonable question - Hoy refuses to tell him (the exact same thing happened to me when I was arrested). Instead of telling Shahin why he has unceremoniously barged into his day, Hoy immediately becomes hostile, again demanding Shahin’s license and snidely telling him, “You don’t get to dictate … when I stop you, okay?”

Things quickly go downhill from there. Hoy, it turns out, is hellbent on slapping a defect sticker on the Rolls Royce, using the excuse its window tinting is too dark. Hoy, who wears glasses (indicating he suffers some degree of visual impairment), claims he couldn’t see who was in the car. We know that’s a lie, because upon sighting Shahin’s car, Hoy’s own audio recording captures him correctly identifying Shahin as a male.

And just why Hoy needed to see who was in the car, he never explains.

“Yeah, it looks too dark,” claims Hoy of one of the Roller’s windows. When Shahin informs him the windows have not been tinted, an indifferent Hoy simply mutters, “okay.”

“Fourteen percent, it’s gotta have 35 percent, I’ll be defecting your vehicle,” Hoy declares to Shahin, who by this point is no doubt wondering how his day could so suddenly turn to shit.

Hoy then demands the keys to Shahin’s car. The businessman, understandably apprehensive about handing the keys to his pride and joy to a belligerent stranger, questions this directive. Hoy then announces he will remove the keys. Shahin instead tries to remove his keys from his car, only to have the heavy-handed Hoy physically accost him. Hoy starts man-handling and shoving Shahin who, it should once again be emphasized, had done absolutely nothing wrong. He didn’t need to, of course, because Hoy is an "unprofessional bully who was rude, arrogant and harsh to drivers."

As it turns out, pulling over luxury car drivers using the tinted window ruse was apparently a Hoy favourite. Another complaint, in 2008, also arose from Hoy pulling over and defecting a luxury car because its front passenger window tint was allegedly too dark. In a sequence of events similar to those involving Shahin, Hoy told the driver to “shut your mouth” and “don’t have a hissy fit”.

Welcome to South Australia, folks, where one moment you can be innocently minding your own business doing absolutely nothing wrong, and the next have some obnoxious SAPOL cop all over you like a rash.

What a truly disgraceful state of affairs.

If I was to swagger around talking to people the way Hoy and his ilk do, I’d be getting into a hell of a lot of fights. People don’t generally like being treated like shit. But SAPOL officers routinely prey on the public and treat them like garbage, then earnestly wonder why people treat them with suspicion and disdain.

Hello?

Incredibly, despite the incriminating nature of the above tape, Hoy was acquitted of assaulting Shahin.

Maybe this was due to the fact that Hoy is an Anglo-Saxon while Shahin is of Lebanese descent. All bullshit niceties aside, there still remains a lot of racism here in Australia towards those of Mediterranean and especially Middle-Eastern descent.

Or maybe it was because bully-boy Hoy - a grown 59 year-old man who tells others not to have hissy fits – constantly cried and snivelled in court. Not a very becoming display for someone who has no qualms about acting like Mister Mucho Macho when armed with a gun and a badge. Maybe Hoy’s waterworks tugged on the heartstrings of the jury, sufficiently softening them up for a not guilty verdict?

Who knows, but it does bring me to another observation I’ve made of SAPOL and its officers:

Like many bullies, they are notoriously thin-skinned.

SAPOL is quick to harass others, to accuse them of things they didn’t do. The callous, heartless and often violent outfit is more than happy to prosecute, harass and even assault innocent people. SAPOL has no qualms about causing innocent people untold financial hardship and driving them to a nervous breakdown.

But when they are put in the hot seat, it’s a totally different story. For an organization that sees fit to cruelly drive innocent people to the brink, SAPOL sure has an extremely low tolerance for criticism.

That’s because, like any totalitarian outfit, the thing SAPOL fears and hates most is a challenge to what it perceives as its supreme authority.

So What the Heck is SAPOL Really About?

While disingenuously masquerading as a protector of the public, SAPOL’s true mission is in reality dominated by the following agendas:

Revenue-raising for the South Australian government. The big earner here is traffic and speed camera fines, which earn the SA government hundreds of millions of dollars each year. I must tip my hat off to Channel 7’s Today Tonight, who exposed internal SAPOL communications showing SA’s fine system is indeed a revenue-raising rort. Officers who don’t meet their fine quotas (a.k.a. “benchmarks”) are even vigorously berated for their lack of team spirit!

This repugnant racket really got out of control under the former and staggeringly corrupt Labor government, who fell hopelessly in love with the idea that its financial ineptitude could be at least partly offset by SAPOL’s revenue-raising capabilities. Despite its appalling performance, and repeated controversy, Labor enjoyed an uninterrupted 16-year term of rampant taxpayer-funded debauchery and malfeasance. Why South Australians repeatedly voted these rortmeisters into power for four consecutive terms remains a mystery to me; I can only assume it has something to do with the pathological fear of change that seems to pervade the state.

South Australia is hardly the only state to extort hundreds of millions of dollars per year from law-abiding citizens under the cynical guise of ‘road safety’, but it does have the nation’s most punitive traffic fine system. The state’s exceedingly harsh fine racket has been publicly dubbed the most unfair in the nation.

SAPOL incessantly claims this draconian approach to speed enforcement is saving lives, but when you ask for them for proof of this, they have none. SAPOL knows full well that speed is a “factor” in only a minority of motor vehicle accidents. If you’ve ever driven on Australian roads and marvelled at the incredibly bad driving on display, chances are you’ll know the real reason Australia has a far higher road fatality rate than countries like the UK and Spain: Australian drivers are routinely discourteous, aggressive, impatient, easily-distracted and often affected by alcohol and drugs. In a continent that already drinks too much, South Australia has the dubious honour of having the highest drink driving rate.

The major road safety problems here are not 'speeding' but factors such as the Aussie penchant for excessive drinking and smoking/snorting/injecting/swallowing toxic shit on a regular basis, not to mention texting friends while commandeering a 1,500kg missile (and more – I’ve seen semi-trailer drivers using mobile phones. IDIOTS.)

Even the cops here are terrible drivers, as we’ve already witnessed.

What our revenue-raising police and governments will never tell you is that the decades-long reduction in the road toll slowed after the introduction of speed cameras. Take a look at the following table, bearing in mind that most Australian states began using speed cameras between the years 1988-1991 (WA = 1988, VIC = 1989, SA = 1990, NSW = 1991).

Sources: Road Deaths Australia, 2008 Statistical Summary, Road Deaths Australia, 2011 Statistical Summary.

During the sixteen-year period spanning 1975 to 1991, the Australian road toll declined by a hefty 54%. Over the subsequent sixteen years, from 1992-2008, the road toll declined by 45%.

It gets worse.

In recent years, despite increasing speed camera revenues, the road toll has stopped declining and begun rising again. This trend got off to an especially early start in South Australia, in 2012:

https://www.police.sa.gov.au/about-us/traffic-statistics

The likely reason is the increased use of electronic devices by stupid reckless twats who should instead be keeping their eyes on the road. Despite this alarming development, and despite the fact SAPOL is fully aware of all the above facts, it remains doggedly committed to its draconian speed-centric revenue-raising racket.

Why?

Because that’s where the money is.

If militant speed enforcement really was effective in reducing the road toll, then South Australia would by far enjoy the lowest per capita rate of road fatalities. But as of March 2018 - after 28 years of the rabid speeding fine racket - South Australia’s road toll is still above the national average (see page 15 of https://www.aaa.asn.au/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/AAA-Benchmarking-Report_Q2-2018.pdf)

So tell me again how draconian speed enforcement and outrageous traffic fines save lives?

I will repeat: Australia’s speed enforcement system does not save lives. It is purely a money-grubbing scam, nowhere more so than in South Australia.

Furthermore, there is a wealth of evidence from around the world showing relaxed enforcement of speeding on highways brings reductions in road fatalities:

http://speedcamerascam.com/2017/02/02/rip-off-fines-rising-road-tolls-rubbish-research-why-the-australian-obsession-with-speeding-enforcement-is-a-sick-joke/

This includes Australia’s own Northern Territory, where the removal of speed limits on outback roads has brought welcome reductions in the road toll.

Given that SAPOL knows full well of the above information, we are faced with an extremely disturbing reality:

Namely, SAPOL places far more emphasis on revenue generation than reducing road deaths.

This also helps explain why SAPOL officers frequently exhibit such appalling driving habits.

The enforcement of such a draconian system that does nothing to save lives requires an army of compliant individuals who, when faced with a choice between principles or their salary, will reliably opt for the latter. A SAPOL female officer actually admitted to me once, when I questioned the dubious caper she was involved in, that “there are a lot of things we [her and unnamed fellow officers] would change if we could.” In other words, she knew full well that she worked in an unfair system, but that system paid her salary and therefore she wasn’t about to challenge it.

Welcome to SAPOL, whose employment screening questionnaires are carefully crafted to weed out pesky individuals who like to think for themselves and stand up for what is truly just.

And why is SAPOL so dedicated to extracting millions of dollars from law-abiding citizens, causing them untold grief and hardship? Because making lots of money for the government means that SAPOL continues to get lots of money from the government. I guess SAPOL’s top brass need to afford those lavish taxpayer-funded overseas junkets somehow:

SAPOL commissioner Grant Stevens, using taxpayer money to visit a beer factory in the UK. Because watching Irish beer being brewed, apparently, is crucial to fighting Australian crime.

More taxpayer-funded beer, this time in Dubai.

Persecuting and harassing those who stand up to, embarrass or expose SAPOL for the malfeasant outfit it truly is (i.e., people like me). For an organization that constantly complains about a “lack of resources” to pursue real crime, SAPOL sure seems to have a remarkable abundance of resources when it comes to pursuing absurd allegations and harassing those to which it takes a disliking. The reason for this is that, like most gangs, SAPOL gets angry when someone shines a light on its seedy underbelly. Like most gangs, SAPOL will go to great lengths to silence those who threaten its gravy train.

And like most bullies, SAPOL hates it when people stand up for themselves, instead of cowering in submission. But while many bullies will quickly back down when you call their bluff, SAPOL’s otherwise physically unimposing force is emboldened by its access to guns, batons, a legal monopoly on force, and farcical legislation that allows SAPOL to investigate itself when accused of wrong doing. SAPOL’s Internal Investigation Service (IIS) is an audacious sham which should be renamed the Internal Cover-Up Service (ICUS), because its chief purpose is clearly to dismiss, deny and cover up as much of SAPOL’s abundant bad behaviour as possible.

SAPOL’s All-Too-Frequent Response to Real Crime: NO RESPONSE

A striking insight into just how little SAPOL cares about real crime can be garnered from the horrific murder of Zahra Abrahimzadeh. Zahra's estranged husband Ziaolleh had a long history of violent and threatening behaviour towards her and their children. On February 12, 2009, this psychotic bastard assaulted Zahra and their eldest daughter, and threatened to kill both their son and youngest daughter. Eleven days later, after the terrified family resolved to flee the violent Ziaolleh, they packed their belongings into their car and drove to the Salisbury Police Station, in Adelaide’s northern suburbs, to report the incident.

And what did SAPOL do in response?

Bugger all.

Apart from issuing him with a largely useless piece of paper known as a domestic violence restraining order, SAPOL essentially did nothing. Apparently, bashing your wife and adult daughter and threatening to kill your family doesn’t warrant an arrest in South Australia!

SAPOL, after all, has far more pressing matters to attend to, like relentlessly hounding motorists who refuse to pay vexatious and unlawful traffic fines.

The bottom line is that thanks to SAPOL's sheer disinterest in bringing Ziaolleh Abrahimzadeh to justice, he remained free. This lack of action emboldened him to approach his estranged wife at a function in the Adelaide Convention Centre on the evening of March 21, 2010, and repeatedly stab her to death in a frenzied attack occurring in full view of shocked onlookers.

As the subsequent Coroner's Inquest report stated:

"Ziaolleh was never dealt with by the criminal justice system for his alleged offending. That was because the first step in the criminal justice process, namely arresting and charging Ziaolleh for the reported offending, never occurred at anytime during those 13 months.

In my opinion the single most important and decisive step in deterring Ziaolleh Abrahimzadeh from acting violently towards his wife was to arrest and charge him for his alleged offences."

Caught Red-Handed on Camera, but … “Not Enough Evidence, Mate!”

Another jaw-dropping example of SAPOL’s indifference to real crime came to light in December 2017 when a frustrated victim told the Advertiser the highly irrational force was refusing to charge a man who slashed three of his car tyres. The entire incident was captured on CCTV footage, which clearly showed the culprit’s face and the license plate of the silver Mercedes SLK in which he drove away. Despite the slam-dunk nature of the evidence, SAPOL refused to charge the man, claiming “there wasn’t enough evidence to guarantee a conviction.”

You can’t make this stuff up folks; here’s the original article:

I was discussing this lunacy with an acquaintance when he told me of a very similar case that occurred at a shopping centre in Adelaide’s North-East (a precinct covered by Holden Hill police). In this instance, his shop assistant friend had all four of his car tyres deflated by a disgruntled customer. As with the abovementioned incident, the shopping centre’s CCTV cameras identified both the culprit and his license plate. The victim promptly took the footage to SAPOL, who proceeded to inform him they couldn’t use the footage as evidence because he had watched it and therefore it was tainted.

?!

I know, that makes absolutely no sense, but as I said earlier, there is nothing rational or logical about SAPOL.

I guess the moral of the story is that if you ever visit South Australia and want to commit a crime without fear of being arrested, make sure you get caught on CCTV camera!

In contrast, if you do want to get arrested by sleazy SAPOL, here’s a foolproof guide:

How to Get Arrested by SAPOL When You’ve Done NOTHING Wrong: Step 1

First of all, you need SAPOL to come to dislike you, to view you as a pain in the ass.

One sure-fire way to achieve this is to vigorously stand up to SAPOL when they issue you an unlawful traffic fine.

So how do you cop an unlawful fine in South Australia?

With the nation’s most predatory fine regime, it’s quite easy. And if you have olive skin and a nice-looking car, you’re really in the running. In predominantly Anglo South Australia, this will make you stand out to the police. It’s no guarantee of unwanted police attention, as we saw with the tyre-slashing incident above but, as Yasser Shahin and yours truly can attest, it sure seems to help.

All you Andrew Bolt types who think I’m ‘playing the race card’ would do well to pull your heads out of your posteriors and get with reality. As a person of Mediterranean descent, I can state unreservedly there is a clear and noticeable difference in the way I’m treated by both the public and police when I’m in Adelaide compared to far more cosmopolitan Melbourne. And there is published research to support my personal experience. In 2007, Australian National University researchers sent 4,000 job applications to prospective employers in three Australian cities. The applications were identical in all but one respect: The ethnicity of the fictitious applicants' names. The researchers found that in Sydney and Brisbane (who, like Adelaide, have far lower Mediterranean populations than Melbourne), applications bearing an Italian surname were significantly less likely to receive a callback. In Melbourne, which sports significant Greek and Italian populations (Melbourne has the largest Greek population of any city outside Greece), applications with an Italian surname were actually slightly more likely to receive a callback.

Anglo Police versus Ethnics

Okay, so after having slapped on some olive skin lotion and colouring your hair and eyebrows black, the next step is to get in your car and do the big drive from Melbourne to Adelaide with an olive-skinned friend visiting from the United States. As she will confirm, you are a very conscientious and safe driver, being careful not to exceed Victoria and South Australia’s posted speed limits.

Commensurate with your 30-year accident-free driving record, you have a safe and enjoyable drive – that is, until you get to the Adelaide Hills. As you near the end of the long and treacherous descent down the disgraceful ski ramp that masquerades as South Australia’s South-Eastern Freeway, a traffic cop flashes his lights and quickly pulls out behind you.

You pull up, and an officer by the name of Senior Constable Ian Stanley struts over to your car, demands your license, then claims he clocked you doing 78km/h in a 60km/h zone. He then informs you that he is going to give you a $417 fine.

You are stunned. And so is your passenger.

His only evidence that you were ‘speeding’ are two digits on an orange Lidar device, which read “78”.  There is no footage or image of your vehicle on the device, only the two digits of ultimately unknown origin.

There are a plethora of problems with this scenario, the first and foremost being the fact you were not travelling at 78 km/h. When you approached the end of the 80km/h zone and saw the first of two 60km/h signs, you braked and your car slowed significantly. You continued to brake and your car continued to slow as you approached the second 60 sign.

Yet Stanley is effectively claiming – with a straight face – that you had not slowed at all at the first 60 sign, and you only slowed by 2 km/h after reaching the second 60 sign.

What utter garbage.

To top off the ignominy, Stanley – who can clearly see you are upset and stunned – evidently takes a disliking to you and menacingly asks if he should record your speed as 80 instead of 78. This, as Stanley keenly reminds you, would knock your fine into the next category and strip you of even more hard-earned money.

At no point did your olive-skinned self, or your olive-skinned passenger, in any way abuse, threaten or refuse to comply with the Anglo-Saxon Stanley’s demands (if Stanley ever tries to claim otherwise, you now have the whole thing on video, courtesy of his own body-worn camera).

As you drive off, the shell-shock gives way to indignance. Angry at the manner in which you were just treated, and knowing full well you were not travelling at the speed Stanley accused you of, you resolve not to pay the fine.

And this is where the ‘fun’ (I use that term in the most sardonic manner possible) really begins.

You start doing some research, and you uncover an endless stream of discomforting facts. For starters, Stanley hails from Sturt Police Station, an establishment that seems to have a pressing problem with staff honesty:

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-04-08/sa-police-charged-after-corruption-probe-may-face-more-charges/6377294

Having seen media segments about the ability of Lidar guns to clock stationary objects like trees and poles at speeds of 70-80km/h, you start reading more about these dubious devices. You learn that curves in the road, nearby traffic, downhill descents and nearby objects like trees and poles are all contraindications for the correct use of these devices.

And guess what? All of those conditions were present at the location where Stanley claims to have clocked you ‘speeding’.

You further learn that crafty cops can bump up the Lidar’s speed reading by moving its laser beam along the side of the car.

Lidar guns, in other words, are dubious pieces of crap that should themselves be outlawed.

As you’ve probably surmised, the above scenario is not a merely a hypothetical one. It’s what actually happened to me and my Colombian-American guest on 21 January 2016.

Being fully aware of how SAPOL is very adept at dishing out unflattering accusations but not so good at receiving them, I will emphasize here I am not accusing Stanley of being deliberately dishonest or racist. That Stanley hailed from the dubious Sturt police station, and works for an organization that has well-documented problems with honesty and racism does not necessarily mean he himself is dishonest or racist. Ultimately, I have no idea how he arrived at his nonsensical speed reading, and why he chose to behave in the manner he did.

What I can say without reservation is the fine he gave me on 21 January 2016 was untenable, and should never have been issued to me.

And SAPOL were ultimately forced to acknowledge as much.

It took over two long years, but it was only until after I got a lawyer onto the matter that SAPOL suddenly lost interest in pursuing the matter. On 11 May 2018, a SAPOL prosecutor stated he would withdraw the fine because:

“… the IO hasn’t supplied notes or the PD477 so I’ll just discontinue it on the next occasion.”

Instead of taking the matter to trial, SAPOL withdrew it and, thanks to my very capable barrister Yasmin McMahon, I was awarded costs that were a multiple of the original fine.

So all that Stanley achieved in the end was to cost the taxpayers of South Australia an amount over twice that of the fine he tried to stick me with.

I insisted right from the get-go I was innocent of the crime Stanley accused me of (and rest assured, when a cop accuses you of a traffic offence, he is accusing you of a crime, all sanitized words like “expiation” and “infringement” notwithstanding).

She Won’t Be Right, Mate!

When SAPOL cops venture out with their Lidar guns to do a spot of fund-raising, they are first supposed to go through a series of steps aimed at improving the accuracy of the speed readings. They are also supposed to make notes of these procedures. If they don’t perform these procedures, any subsequent fine can be challenged as legally invalid. And if the required notes aren’t kept, the fine can also be challenged as untenable.

Astute readers will know where this is heading. Here in Australia, where a “she’ll be right” attitude to task completion often prevails, and where the cops often think they are above the law, the required calibration procedures and accompanying notes are frequently skipped.

As a result, numerous motorists have had speeding fines overturned because the police were not able to show proper procedures were followed. One such case that made the headlines in 2016 was Police vs Butcher:

http://www6.austlii.edu.au/cgi-bin/viewdoc/au/cases/sa/SASC/2016/130.html

The Police vs Butcher decision only deepened my suspicion that there was something off about my speeding fine. My suspicions were eventually confirmed, because – surprise, surprise - the proper notes had not been kept.

What is infuriating is that SAPOL either knew, or could have easily confirmed this right from the outset. Instead of dragging the matter on for over two years, SAPOL’s Expiation Notice Branch could easily have closed the matter within days. When I protested the fine, all they had to do was ring Sturt police station:

EXPIATION NOTICE BRANCH STAFFER: “Hi, it’s Neville McNoodle from the Expiation Notice Branch. I’m after Senior Constable Ian Stanley.”

[Brief pause while SC Stanley comes to phone]

STANLEY: “Hello?”

ENBS: “Hi Ian, Neville McNoodle from the ENB. On 21 January 2016, you pulled over some bloke called Anthony Colpo and accused him of doing 78 in a 60 zone. The expiation number is GXXXXXXXXX. He’s disputing the fine, so I need the relevant notes.”

STANLEY: “Ugh…notes?”

ENBS: “Yeah, notes. You did keep the relevant notes, right?”

STANLEY: “Uh…no.”

ENBS: [Swears and says the Lord’s name in vain] “Great. Now I’ll have to write to him and tell him we’re withdrawing the fine!”

But instead of using a commonsense approach like the one above, SAPOL instead chose to pursue and harass me for over two years, no doubt wasting thousands of taxpayer dollars in the process. They ignored my repeated requests for evidence, they unlawfully handballed my fine over to the nasty bastards at the Fines Enforcement and Recovery Unit (FERU) and – most disgustingly of all – had an especially obnoxious officer illegally trespass on my mother’s property in order to serve me with a summons!

All this for a fine which was – as I maintained all along – a complete crock.

The problem with the current approach is there is no disincentive for the issuance of nonsensical fines. Rather than the current revenue-raising approach, fine issuance should return to being a genuine road safety measure aimed at penalizing only truly dangerous behaviour. There should be severe financial penalties for police officers who hand out untenable speeding fines or book people for irrelevant nonsense like window tinting. The old “I’m just doing my job, mate” excuse would get a lot less airtime when one’s job came with substantial disincentives for issuing trivial, vexatious and unjust fines.

This is in stark contrast to the current system, which laughs in the face of the idea of equitable justice. Motorists who suspect they have been issued an unlawful fine, and refuse to pay it, have two unappealing choices:

Ignore the fine, and become subject to a continual stream of threats, harassment, license loss and asset seizure, or;

“Elect” to be prosecuted. In other words, you can ‘choose’ – effectively under duress, considering your other option - to fight the matter in court.

Option 2 means either representing yourself in court, or hiring a lawyer to argue the matter for you. For the average person with no legal training, getting up in court and arguing a case before a magistrate or judge can be a daunting proposition. And hiring a lawyer might involve spending thousands of dollars to fight a $417 fine, with no guarantee of success. And whichever option you choose, you can be sure the matter will require considerable time and effort on your part.

Faced with these options, many people simply fold and grudgingly pay the fine. The system is stacked against them and, of course, this is no accident. The powers-that-be have deliberately structured the fine system in a manner that lumps all the disincentives on the hapless motorist. They know full well that, when faced with the daunting prospect of battling the 800-pound gorilla that is the state, most people will fold and just pay the fine.

As regular readers will know, I am not “most” people.

After receiving Stanley’s fine, and resolving not to pay it, I went online to get some idea of what my options might be. I quickly came across an Australian eBook that promised information on how to beat traffic fines. I purchased the eBook, and forwarded SAPOL the correspondence recommended in the book. SAPOL’s reply was a smug form letter stating it had already received a large volume of similar letters and that these letters were ineffective.

What especially stood out to me was SAPOL’s response to the question of whether the Lidar wielded by Stanley met the requirements of the National Measurement Act 1960. Instead of answering the question, SAPOL’s Expiation Notice Branch wrote:

“Supreme Court of South Australia has ruled the Imperial Acts Application and other legislation quoted in your letter has no bearing on the expiation notice process…”

This was a very curious response because my letter never mentioned the Imperial Acts Application Act. I asked a question about the National Measurement Act 1960, and instead of giving me a straight answer, SAPOL raised a strawman.

When people throw red herrings like this at me, it merely confirms they have something to hide. As we’ve already seen, that was exactly the case. SAPOL was hounding me for a fine that was legally invalid. But instead of being upfront about this, it chose to aggressively pursue me and even engage in a blatantly illegal trespass.

SAPOL’s shenanigans included re-sending me the fine, this time with an additional late payment fee - despite the fact I had already ‘elected’ in writing to have the matter heard in court! Incensed by SAPOL’s harassment and ineptitude, I promptly drafted and then sent an invoice to the Expiation Notice Branch, demanding a sum equal to the late payment fee plus the cost of registered post. I also allotted the same time frame of payment as SAPOL stipulates on its ‘expiation’ notices (28 days).

I was effectively holding SAPOL to the same standard it felt entitled to hold me. But as we’ve seen, the old admonition to “treat others as you wish to them to treat you” doesn’t carry much weight at SAPOL. Instead of reimbursing me for the inconvenience they unnecessarily caused me, the vindictive SAPOL ‘escalated’ my fine and unlawfully handballed it over to the goons at FERU!

SAPOL also prematurely escalated a second – and even more ridiculous – traffic fine I received in 2017. You’ll learn all about that fine in Part II, because I received it right before I got arrested. That fine was also prematurely handballed to FERU, which suggests the ENB has a habit of prematurely ‘escalating’ fines. The incentive for this would be the immediately increased fine amount, and the fact FERU is authorized to repossess your goodies and access your bank account, resulting in even more bounty for the state. And even if you manage to have the FERU order revoked, you still have to pay a fee for the revocation application.

In terms of revenue-raising, it’s a win-win for SAPOL either way.

The bottom line is that SAPOL and its extortionist Expiation Notice Branch did their best to sink their teeth into my ass, but I staunchly resisted their efforts. By doing so, I’ve since been told, SAPOL came to view me, not as a law-abiding citizen exercising his democratic right to fight unlawful state actions, but as a magnanimous pain in the ass.

The highly autocratic SAPOL, it turns out, doesn’t like suffering discomfort in its anal region.

How to Get Arrested by SAPOL When You’ve Done NOTHING Wrong: Step 2

Having staunchly exercised your democratic right to question untenable and vexatious traffic fines, you are now viewed by SAPOL as a PITA.

But you still haven’t been arrested.

So if you want to get arrested despite having done nothing wrong, the next step is to take a trip back to Adelaide. Yeah, I know, it’s a long drive, but that’s where the false arrest action is at these days. South Australia, after all, has the highest rate of failed prosecutions of any Australian state, so if you want to be falsely arrested, it’s not going to happen while sipping green tea in Chapel Street!

After you’ve arrived in Adelaide, call up a friend who lives there and go for a walk up to Skye lookout with him and your dog. Because your experiment involves being arrested on false grounds, make sure you are carrying no weapons or drugs. Make sure you are minding your own damn business and obeying the law.

With a bit of (bad) luck, you will accidentally stumble upon some sleazy fuckwit known as Harley David Johnstone while he is engaged him some bizarre wank known as an “Everesting” attempt. He will be riding three abreast with his friends (which is illegal). After walking around a corner with your dog, you will be greeted by the sight of Johnstone riding straight towards you in an unsteady manner with, incredibly, his head looking down instead of ahead at the road. Because your dog is on a leash and walking to your left, and there are cyclists approaching left, right and centre, your options for evading an imminent collision are severely limited. If you move to the left, your dog will get run over. If you move to the right, chances are both you and your dog are going to get collected. If you love your dog dearly, as I do, then throwing him under the bus (or in this case, bike) is simply not an option. Your best option is to protect him and simply brace yourself for the inevitable collision.

The inevitable happens. The irresponsible cyclist rides into you. Thankfully, the combined weight of this reckless prick and his bike are less than your bodyweight. As such, you remain standing while he ends up on the tarmac.

“Serves the clown right,” you think to yourself, “he should watch the heck where he’s going.”

The law-breaking cyclist, however, doesn’t see it that way. As he unravels himself from his overpriced and overrated Giant bicycle, he starts hurling a litany of abuse at you. This in itself quickly raises your ire, but then your eyes hone in on his cycling apparel - and that’s when the adrenalin really starts pumping.

Because that apparel is coloured an unmistakable orange and turd-green, and on his jersey, in all-caps is the word “VEGAN”.

“H-o-l-y shit,” you immediately remark to yourself, “it’s that Johnstone prick!”

Yep, the same evil, nasty prick that has spent the last five years taunting you, defaming you, threatening you and spreading nasty lies about you all over the Internet.

The same repulsive maggot who publicly labelled a genuine cancer patient a “scammer”, taunted a domestic violence victim, falsely and hypocritically accused others of child porn and sexual assault, and threatened to visit people’s houses and slash their throats.

This vile piece of pond scum is now right in front of you … and he’s abusing you for a cycling fall that was 100% his fault!

Well…

You proceed to tell this disgusting turd of a human being exactly what you think of him.

You also invite him to repeat, to your face, the abundant nastiness he has written online about you.

You further tell him that, if he has such a huge problem with you, then this would be a very opportune time to get it sorted.

You invite him to settle your differences right there and then. After all, the guy clearly has a major problem with you, issuing threats and going to great lengths to defame you – which in turn has caused you immeasurable grief, not to mention thousands in lawyer’s fees.

Here’s Johnstone’s big chance, his moment of truth – the chance to settle his differences with you one on one.

You’d think a self-proclaimed tough guy like Johnstone - who brags about jail and portrays himself as a Muy Thai expert – would jump at the chance to kick your “greaseball” ass.

But instead of taking off his cycling mitts and his carbon-soled slippers, he instead runs to hide behind his friends. Despite the endless parade of macho mean talk this hateful troll has spewed forth over the years, the truth is becoming quickly apparent:

He’s a gutless maggot.

At one point, he appears ready to break into tears. His voice is quivering and the muscles on one side of his neck appear to have gone into some kind of hyper-spastic state. As an individual who was there later recounts, Johnstone was “shitting himself.”

At first, this annoys you even further. If this maggot was a real man, he’d stand behind his words and have it out with you. You are truly disgusted by his hypocrisy and cowardice.

While all this is going on, a seemingly amicable lad by the name of Joey Armstrong is doing his best to defuse the situation. Joey has the balls Johnstone will never have, and calmly but diligently works to de-escalate what appears to be a rapidly escalating confrontation.

Of course, there was never going to be any physical attack because Johnstone is a gutless pansy, and you are not in the business of lobbing sucker-punches at pathetic weasels who are clearly shitting themselves. But Joey doesn’t know that at the time, and should be commended for potentially putting himself in the firing line in order to calm things down.

When it becomes abundantly clear that Harley Johnstone is a cowardly little turd who would rather eat a plate of free-range faeces than fight you, you realize there is little to be achieved by hanging around. The commotion dies down, you reign in your pooch, and walk off with your friend.

No-one was hit (except you, by Johnstone’s bike). No-one was hurt.

As you leave, someone yells “call the police!”

“Call the police?” you think to yourself, “yeah, call them. See what I care. What are they going to do? Arrest me for having been ridden into by some sleazy vegan asshole? For telling a pathetic skeleton that he’s a pathetic skeleton?”

To your dismay, that’s exactly what SAPOL proceed to do - albeit some twenty months later!

Partners in Crime: Harley “Durianrider” Johnstone & SAPOL

As you’ve no doubt also surmised, the above scenario is also not merely a hypothetical one – it’s the same scenario that actually played out on February 29, 2016.

After both my mother and myself received repeated calls and voice messages from a Senior Constable Anthony Petraccaro of Norwood Police Station over the following week, I heard nothing more.

Why Petraccaro felt compelled to badger my elderly mother, who clearly had nothing to do with any of this, remains unknown.

And why SAPOL have claimed I did not respond to their enquiries when I in fact contacted Norwood Police Station twice, leaving my name for Petraccaro, also remains unknown.

There are in fact a lot of unanswered questions for which I will be demanding answers in due course, but suffice to say for now that in light of SAPOL’s non-response, I could only assume they'd woken up to what a complete sleazeball Johnstone was. I assumed they’d done a little research, discovered Johnstone was a pathological liar, concluded his allegations were completely untenable, and decided to close the matter.

As it turns out, I severely overestimated SAPOL’s intelligence and honesty.

On 12 September 2017, I was arrested and charged for allegedly punching Johnstone and allegedly causing several thousand dollars damage to his bike. Again, this was despite the fact there was absolutely no evidence I had struck Johnstone and there was no damage to his bike.

To say that yours truly, and my friends and family, were shell-shocked by my arrest would be an understatement for the ages.

This, after all, was the exact same SAPOL that didn’t give a flying fuck about the murderous overtures being made by Ziaolleh Abrahimzadeh.

The exact same SAPOL that watched clear and conclusive footage of someone slashing an innocent person’s car tyres, only to yawn and mutter:

“Meh, not enough evidence for a conviction. Hey, any Krispy Kremes left?” 

Sometimes stereotypes exist for a reason.

The exact same SAPOL that didn’t give a damn when one of its officers was caught red-handed beating the living bejesus out of two innocent and unarmed homeless men while they lay prostrate on the ground. Instead of punishing him, SAPOL rushed to his defence claiming the poor dear was in a “fragile” emotional state.

For crying out loud ...

While SAPOL remained distinctly unaroused by truly serious crimes with a mountain of compelling evidence, it sure developed a massive prosecutorial hard-on when it learned I’d been accused of punching Johnstone!

The case against me was so weak, the Magistrate presiding over the case even advised SAPOL the first morning of the trial that they should drop the matter.

In fact, SAPOL was given repeated opportunities to drop the case against me, but they flatly refused. Despite the utterly absurd nature of the allegations, and the well-known appalling character of the person who made them, SAPOL steadfastly insisted on prosecuting me right to the very end.

Even after getting smashed in court, SAPOL are now refusing to reimburse me for my legal fees – which amounted to over $19,000!

Decent lawyers don’t come cheap, folks.

To say that SAPOL’s behaviour toward me throughout this matter has been vexatious, malicious and vindictive would be a monumental understatement. Just why SAPOL targeted me in this manner is a matter for which I fully intend to get to the bottom of. I have my suspicions, which I have already touched on above.

Anyway, that concludes Part I of the sorry saga of Anthony Colpo vs the Evil Duo of SAPOL and Johnstone. In Part II, I’ll walk you through my arrest, and the ten months of sheer lunacy that followed. And I’ll give you a blow-by-blow account of the court hearing that literally ended in tears for Johnstone.

Hasta luego,

Anthony.

Anthony Colpo is an independent researcher, physical conditioning specialist, and author of the groundbreaking books The Fat Loss Bible, The Great Cholesterol Con and Whole Grains, Empty Promises.

Source: http://anthonycolpo.com/anthony-colpo-vs-the-evil-duo-harley-durianrider-johnstone-south-australia-police-part-1/

[thislovelylady]

As horrible as it always is, I do love writing conflict scenes between Lenora and Sato. Their relationship is toxic and it equates to varying levels of abuse depending on the scenario. But deep down, I know for a fact that Sato does this to keep Lenora around because he does love her in his own twisted way; he truly believes the only way she won’t leave him is if he breaks her and makes her completely dependent on him. 

But more interesting to me is his infidelity and lack of concern for her actual well-being makes me think he’s less in love with Lenora herself and more in love with what she represented -- stability and loyalty for him in the darker times. It’s like keeping around a puppy to cuddle when you’re sad, but not actually taking care of it and locking it up in your basement.

Then there’s poor Lenora, whose traumatic separation from (and brief childhood with) her father taints her perception that she needs to prove herself to being worthy of another’s love. That she must chase, for she is not worthy of being chased herself. Even if she has all the confidence in the world in everything else, when it comes to men in her life, she is already mentally positioned to have to convince them to like her; that’s why sometimes she’s so damned discouraged or doesn’t care enough to put in any effort because she’s exhausted and doesn’t believe it’ll last anyway.

And when a guy does show interest in her first for a change and she likes him back, she usually falls so hard and so fast it just ends up putting her in potentially bad situations again.

Anyway, have some horribly heartbreaking dialogue from a Skype rp I wrote yesterday with Starry. In it, Lenora is a children’s book author who works in the same company as Phoenix, an illustrator. Sato is her long-distance boyfriend who moved back to be with her; in an attempt to get over his own crush on her, Phoenix started dating the new secretary, Iris. Lenora didn’t realize how much that bothers her until recently. This was mildly inspired by Tim x Dawn in the Office (UK), because that’s what I watched on the plane back from Germany. :|

A little while later, they were walking to his car. Sato noticed she was quiet, but she tried to play it off as nothing but fatigue. As they stepped out into the mostly-empty parking garage, however, he stopped her.

"--Hey. I'm not taking you home with me if you're going to have an attitude all night," he mutters, turning her to look at him. "Tell me what's wrong or go grab the bus."

She did her very best to keep things under control. To give Sato a chance to remind her why she loved him. Instead, he did this. She stared at him for a moment, tears welling in her eyes, hoping that would soften him. It didn't.

"Lenora," he said her name like he was scolding a child. "Don't cry, just fucking tell me -- "

"I don't want to be with you." It fired out of her mouth too quick for her to catch, and by the time it registered, she didn't care. She pulled her arm out of the hold he had had on it and turned away, hugging herself. "You--You don't treat me well. And, and you don't l-love me -- and I know you've not been l-loyal, and -- "

"--What the fuck, Nora? Where did this come from?" Sato had been taken aback for a solid minute before going on the defensive. "What do you mean I don't love you? I'm here, aren't I? If I wanted someone else, I'd be with them, not you! And what proof do you have that I've been disloyal?!"

Shit. She didn't have any. She was just spouting off how she felt. This was a horrible idea, goddamit... still, she just fell quiet.

Sato stared at her before running a hand through his hair, then turning her around to face him again.

"This isn't about me," he stated, forcing her to look at him. "Is it? This is about you. What's on your mind, Nora?"

Her will wavered and she shook her head, eyes screwing shut as she broke down into tears. Sato frowned but pulled her into his arms, patting down her hair.

"Lenora. Talk to me. Don't just cry," his gestures were comforting, but his words were not. "You're projecting, right? Did you cheat on me?"

"N--! No! No, I -- " She looked up, panicking suddenly.

"Do you want somebody else, then?" he prompted, and her expression in response said it all. Didn't take a genius to figure out who, either. He could read her like a book. "Oh. Oh, I get it. That illustrator guy of yours. You want him, is that it?"

Fuck! He saw right through her. How? How did he always -- she struggled to breathe, to swallow, and trembled as she slowly nodded her head. "I....I'm sorry, Sato, I just -- "

"He's got a girlfriend though, doesn't he?" Ignoring her apology, he raised his brows and gave her a skeptical look. "The cute secretary girl at the front desk. I saw them making out in the garage the other day." He hadn't, but he knew it'd hurt her to say that. And it did, visibly, as her eyes widened at the mental image. "-- Look, Nora. I get it. I get the whole...temptation and that shit of seeing something you can't have and wanting it. Believe me." And he indulged plenty of those desires, too. He didn't have to say that for it to be understood. But he wasn't the one on trial here. "But I want you to answer a question for me. Why would he pick you over that skinny, model-looking sweet lady in there?"

What? "S-Sato --"

"I wouldn't." He was blunt. He always was in their arguments, and he released her now to fold his arms. "If Phoenix wants to trade, I'd do so happily. But he's not an idiot. He knows he has a good thing going for him. Why would he pass on her for a girl who didn't decide she liked him until he wasn't available? That's classic high school girl bullshit, Lenora. You don't actually care about him. You just want what another girl wants. And I'm sure he'll be able to see through that in a heartbeat."

She took a step back from him, looking as though she'd been struck. Terrible things. He was saying terrible things! And yet they were the same she had thought--

"So you leave me. Let's say you do that. Are you gonna sit around, waiting for them to break up like a fucking vulture? Are you really that pathetic to be okay with being sloppy seconds?"

"Sato, stop--" She was crying, but he was relentless.

"I'm not going to stop, Nora, because you need to wake the fuck up and look at the situation like an adult! This isn't one of your goddamn fairytales. I'm here, I moved to be with you, and I am committed to you. You're going to throw that all away? After everything we've been through? I don't deserve that kind of treatment. To just -- just be tossed aside in a parking garage like a cigarette. You do realize you're not some fucking prize every guy is clamoring for, right? I'm with you despite all of your flaws -- like you are with mine. "

She had been sobbing, but now she was quieting down. Standing straight and still as a statue aside from her heavy breathing, hating that everything he said was true.

Seeing she had been broken down, Sato moved close now to pull her into his arms, comforting.

"... You know I hate it when you cry," he muttered into her ear, tone affectionate. "But I don't want you to throw away what we have just because you get a stupid office crush. I do love you, Lenora. Maybe the long distance put it into question. Maybe this was a long time coming. But you know how useless it is to pine for someone like him, right? You've known each other for a long time. If he liked you, he would've made it clear by now. You're just friends. Accept that...and just be happy with me, okay?"

She felt so disgusting. So... twisted and wrong and gross. But she nodded faintly, heaving a shuddering sigh and clinging to him.

"I...I'm sorry, Sato. Y-You're right. It was just...a lapse. A stupid thing. I'm sorry." "It's okay," he chuckled into her hair. "Maybe I'll spike my hair back, will that make you feel better?" That would make her feel sick -- "Sato..." "I'm kidding." He pulled back, thumbs brushing tears off her face. "Come on, now. Let's go home and I'll remind you why you really like being with me." She nodded faintly, still upset, but he was done with this. He leads her by the hand to his car, and they drive away shortly after.

[godsandvillainsrpg-blog]

Congratulations, EMILY! You have been accepted as NOELLE DUBOIS.

Note from Admin Jade: Damn, our Noelle applicants certainly brought their A-game, and this decision didn’t come easily. In the end, though, Emily, your application consisted of everything I could’ve hoped to see in Noelle personified. She’s a woman of many weapons — her gun, her chameleon tongue, and her body, and you showed me just how she uses every one of those to her advantage. You painted such a beautiful picture of her journey, of the way the traumas of her past have shaped her into the weapon of a girl she is today. I adore the way you characterized her distinction between victim and survivor, how she forces herself to become something stronger every day — and of course, just how important her revenge is to her. She doesn’t simply want to kill them — that would be letting them off too easy. She wants to make them feel the same pain she felt before they meet the same fate Camille did — the ultimate poetic justice, and you did such a beautiful job of showing me the lengths she’s willing to go to in order to realize that vengeance. Your FC change to Eiza Gonzalez has been approved, and I’m thrilled to welcome you and Noelle to the dash!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Emily

Age: 20

Preferred Pronouns: she/her

Timezone: GMT.

Activity Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, I would put myself at a solid 6. I’m in my final year of uni but i don’t have a part time job or much of a social life, so most of my evenings will be spent on tumblr, probably rping. I’ve found that I can’t work past 6pm because my brain begins to die, so I’ll be all yours until I sleep after that!

Triggers: REMOVED

Anything Else? I’ve talked to Jade about this and I was wondering if it’s possible to change her fc to Eiza Gonzalez? I adore Nina – but she reminds me a little too much of the horrible flashbacks of TVD rps and I have to say, she has sort of been ruined for me.

Also, just to say that Noelle is my first choice, with Caterina as my second!

IN CHARACTER

Desired Character:

Noelle Dubois.

Noelle (also Noëlle) is a feminine given name. It is an English form of the French name Noëlle, which is a feminine form of the name Noël meaning “Christmas” in French. Ironically, Noelle wasn’t even born in December. She also grew up hating Christmas – but came to tolerate it as an adult. Dubois Name Meaning. French and English (Norman and Huguenot): topographic name for someone who lived in a wood. She wears her surname as a badge of pride, a proof she overcame the circumstances of childhood and prospered into someone – and something – else entirely.

Her name was picked out as an afterthought. She didn’t even get a middle one, her parents wanting the process to be over as quickly as possible. With parents who paid little attention to their children, why on earth would they care about their name? Some parents spent hours, days, even weeks, leafing through books trying to pick the one. Because they love their children. Because they want to know, when they kiss their child goodnight, or read their report card – that they did it right, all from the very beginning. Noelle was not given that treatment. Noelle, much like her sister Camille, was named for the maternity nurse who delivered the child. It was an easy, simple solution.

“What would you like to call your child?” Her parents paused, a small shift of the shoulders folding into a shrug. “Well, what’s your name?” And that was that.

As such, Noelle never really cared much about her name. For the first few years of her life, it was thrown as an insult, a shout or scream – always something that gave cause for her to flinch, rather than smile. The only one who said her name with any tenderness or softness was her sister. She was the only one who ever really cared. To Noelle, a name mattered little. She didn’t care whether she liked it or not. The only time she ever cared was when her name was uttered in conjunction with her sister; Camille and Noelle. That made her feel more at ease. That made her more secure. Now, it just makes her sad.

She could have changed her name. She had so many chances. There was the time the sleezy strip owner asked what she should be called, eventually throwing Cherry her way (for her lipstick, apparently). When she went to the Giordano’s, they asked if she wanted to reinvent herself – and to pick a new name alongside it. She always said no. It was never on her part, it was never for the sake of vanity, or even identity (because the Noelle who first bore that name was a hell of a lot different than the one who ended up with it) but because of her sister. Because of Camille and Noelle. Because they were a team – and because they had worn those names through thick and thin, in dark and in light. To change that would be to alter their relationship. And Noelle wasn’t scared of anything in this world – except that. So she kept it. But now, no one says Camille and Noelle. Because there’s no more Camille. And where, oh where, is the justice in that?

Describe this character in your own words:

There are some, in this world, who would argue that there is no distinction between survivors and victims. To them, Noelle would laugh – and simply point at herself. She’s a survivor. It’s a badge she wears with pride, a label she fully embodies. To be a survivor to have gone through hell and come out stronger on the other side. To be a survivor, is to be better than all of that. She has never – and will never – be a victim. She despises that word. She despises its connotations. That she somehow wasn’t good enough, that the world won. In the war between Noelle and the world, she’s had the upper-hand for quite some time now.

(Watch out, you better keep score on her new war, it’s sure to be one to watch).

Noelle is a girl who is battle ready, not weary – and relishes in the triumph from a fight, having been at war, in one way or another, for most of her life. There’s always been a fight in front of her – and as a child, she soon learnt to sink her teeth in and stand the flames when she was set alight. The first fight was against the world, raging against a concept bigger than herself, or indeed, bigger than her parents – those who inflicted primary misery and abuse upon her. Her first fight was a victory against those forces which conspired to keep her down and to tear at what made her whole. Many, she knows, would have fallen prey. They would have given up, submissively bowing their head and allowed themselves to be consumed. Not her. And that’s where the distinction between survivor and victim lies. No, Noelle was not a person who allowed herself to be devoured. She, herself, was hungry – and her appetite would prove to be the stronger one.

Of course, if you want to go into battle – you must have weapons at your disposal. As a child, all she had was the sheer force of her mind – to make steel and iron out of skin and bone, to be tough and sharp and strong. It was her armour. And although armour isn’t a weapon as much, it protected her. It sealed her away. It kept her from the rest of the world – at arm’s length, where it could not touch. The only one allowed in behind such enforcements was Camille – and that was because they fought the war side by side.

Now, her weapons are sharp in different ways. She wasn’t very old when she learnt that her body was a weapon too – that she could use it to gain the upper hand in the world, that what had always been a site of bruising and abuse could, in turn, become her salvation. It was the streets that first made her see that her body could be useful – that standing a certain way would encourage the leering man to buy her a coffee, or that she could sweet talk her way into food (the words had been bitter in her mouth. She had never been sweet – and after that, she never would be). But it wasn’t until the club that she learnt her body could be lethal. Her beauty was not weakness. Her beauty was her emancipation. Her beauty could control. All those silly men thought they were in command. They thought that because they slid dollars towards her, they could own her. But in truth, Noelle owned them. At the club, she became a darker creature, possessed by a childlike rage and a determination that made sure that life would never steal from her again. The club owner might have been a blip on that radar – a shocking reality that you are never flying quite high enough, but it was one she needed. Noelle has always been an individual who very much values – and is – free. She likes being free to make her own choices – to feel as if she has agency in her life. A long time ago, she freed herself (with the help of Camille) – and now, she can never go back. She needs that freedom, that power, that control, to reassure herself – in a sense, to make reality make sense itself.

For, in one word, Noelle is powerful. She has always had the potential to be, but it wasn’t until she began playing the Giordano’s game, gun in her hand, that she truly learnt what it was to wield power – to be in possession of the ability to steal life from someone else. It was nearly intoxicating – and it made her heart spin. She’s not a psychopath, smeared with blood – but she can’t help but admit that there is a part of her that loves this. When out on a mission, she is the one in control. When out on a mission, she can forget about the past – instead, she embraces herself. That was the true Giordano lesson. All they did was teach her to aim. Everything else was always inside of her – all on her own. Her game is to manipulate. Sensual and deadly, she has learnt to take from the world before it can strike back at her. These men she causes to fall at her feet are nothing compared to her – and boy, doesn’t she know it. Her primal weapon is her beauty – and it serves her well. This time, however, the world is very much at her beck and call – and she likes to think she can master it. There is a rage about her, barely contained within her cavity. Killing gave her an outlet for her beautiful inferno. Now, however, it’s not enough.

In this new war, Noelle intends to use all of her weapons at her disposal, no matter what they might be. This opponent knows her inside and out – and she needs to be better than them if she is to win.

A long time ago, she learnt how to steel her heart, hiding it far far away – where no one might peek. This too, has always served her well – to keep them guessing, keep them on their toes, to let them think she’s nothing more than black rage. The truth, is, she isn’t. Yes, she’s angry – nearly always exhaustingly angry, but it’s because she cares – and she’s not sure how else to channel all these intense emotions, never having developed the adequate mechanisms as a child. In secret, she is highly emotional charged, currently hiding away an inner sadness cast by Camille’s death. She’ll let tears fall upon Stavros’s shoulder – but they are the tears of crocodiles. It’s not real. What is real is far more bloody. What is real was only made for the eyes of one person – and that person is six feet under.

She’s always been an incredibly untrusting person, scarred by the lessons gone past, determined to let no one but Camille into her heart. She learnt, early on, that whenever she took someone in – they could come to screw her over, reminders of her parents. So it was easier not to bother. Not to fucking try. The Giordano’s proved the exception to the rule – and look where that led her. Once she lets you in, once she lets you see the real her – it’s for life, which is probably why what happened with the Giordano’s hurt so fucking much. They made a fool of her – they made fools of them both – and now it’s time to pay. She’s learnt her lesson now – and knows herself to be acutely alone in the world. Now, she will remove herself from its grasp – where no one can control or hurt her. It’s a lonely place to be, but Noelle has never been one to throw a pity party about her circumstances. She just gets on with the job at hand.

At her core, Noelle is a survivor. The meaning of that word has changed many times over the years – and she has no doubt, it will change again. But where other things have changed – that has remained her constant, the label wrapped around her, central to her identity. She has no problems with changing or alteration – always having moulded herself to what was needed, to what would carry her through. The latest form of survivor is to play the weeping damsel, the wolf who will wear a sheep skin to survive. It’s a lie – and each night, as Stavros slumbers next to her, she is living a lie. Always a girl who wore her anger on her face, to swallow it down is a challenge – but for Camille, it’s one she will rise above. In a sense, she is a living, breathing work of fiction right now – the person they want her to be, the person they will never see coming. But she hasn’t changed – and she has no damn intention of doing so now, not when her skills have been needed more than ever. What you see is never the same for two people – and she’s the only one who knows what truly lies underneath.

What are this character’s motives?

POWER & CONTROL: In short, Noelle wants agency. She wants to have the ability to make her own choices. She wants to control the world around her – instead of allowing it to control her. Acutely aware of that disempowerment both as a child and then again when she was cohered into sex, she was determined to make sure it never happened to her again. She wanted to be a creature that no one could control – not even fate itself. She wanted to be a creature larger than this world, a woman radiating supremacy, using a lethal combination of her body and the gun in her hand to make it happen. She wanted to rob the world before it robbed her. And the only way to ensure that was to ensure she had the power, that she could make the choices – and that she would never be forced to do anything she didn’t want to do again.

As a teenager, she had ran away – fleeing to free herself from the shackles of abuse. As a young woman, she watched her sister shoot down the man who turned her body into a commodity, something to be exploited, rather than a site of empowerment, which it has always been. Now, it was her turn. The world would never make a fool of her again – and she would use whatever means it took to get there. This grabbling, desperate, desire for control plays out in a way that suits the world she lives in. She’s lethal because she’s seen the other side. She can kill because the alternate future is worse. She will do all this and more, because through the Giordano’s, she received her life’s wish. Freedom – and the empowerment that came with it.

Noelle’s motivations stem directly from the scars of childhood days gone past. Power and control are the cornerstones of what she wants – purely because she knows what it is to live without them. She needs to control her circumstances – and by extension the world around her – because she never wants to feel like a victim. She knows what it is to delude yourself into an illusion of power and have it stolen from you. And once you know something, you can never erase that feeling from your core.

REVENGE & RETRIBUTION: These days, her desire for power and control manifests in more than one way. Yes, it’s revenge for the death of her sister that she wants, but this stems directly from her need to have control – for not to be taken as a fool by the world. Or in this case, the Giordanos. They caused her death – and now, they will pay. She isn’t the girl who allowed herself to be forced into sex. She will not let them take what she holds dear – not without giving them hell for it. Blinded by both bitterness and grief, Noelle intends to tear down the whole system. She will take away in terms of value what they took from her. She will take their most precious thing – this whole game itself. Just a few short weeks ago, she was a willing player. The politics mostly went above her head, but she had to admit, there was an addicting thrill to it – a battlefield through which to empower herself. But now, she’s disgusted. She can see nothing more than her sister’s dead body and act only through heightened anger. She will have her revenge. Although a fiery creature, she knows how to survive. She’s used to bending herself to their expectations – surviving when the world presses down on her. So she won’t fly off the handle. She won’t try and take a gun to their heads – where’s the fun in that? No. Her revenge is far more calculated. Her revenge is targeted. And one day, she will watch as the light dies in their eyes – and they know what it means to grieve. Vengeance will be hers – and it will be her name on their lips.

CAMILLE: Even in death, Camille is a major motivational drive in her life – and she always has been. Her entire life, Noelle was the one following her big sister, the two of them against the world. As the older sibling, Camille lead – and she was barely one step behind, never struggling to keep up. Without Camille, Noelle would not be the woman she is today. Without Camille, she might not have believed she deserved more. Without Camille, she might have given into her circumstances – instead of hardening her heart and making it clear she would take more, if the world would not give her its dues. She’s always drawn strength from her sister – a steady rock even in the worst of times. Always a team, at each other’s side, Noelle made her home in Camille – the only person she could truly count as family. Now, without her, Noelle feels lost. The hard won stability in her life has been snatched away, replaced instead by a burning desire to tear down the world. It is the love she has – and the life they have led together – for her sister that drives her towards her ambitious goal of tearing down the entire game. It’s the knowledge that Camille deserved more that drives her to do what she wants to do. They always told each other that – that the world owed them. Eventually, they took what was owed them – or so they thought. Instead, the world ripped Camille away, too early, too soon – leaving her all alone. And like when Camille shot the mob owner who forced her to prostitute herself, Noelle will punish those who are deserving.

EMOTIONS: It’s strange, that such a sharp woman should be driven her emotions. But she always has. They have always been there – deep in her marrow, hidden from the light. What’s more, she’s always been able to control them – used to hiding away half of her soul, to slipping on a mask, which is why she’s so lethal. She may not let people know it, but she feels everything – acutely deeply. She’s simply learnt not to let that influence her actions, or indeed, who she is, tucking it away for only Camille to find. Few people know this, but she loves deeply – and once you’ve gotten her love, it’s for life. That’s why she’s so angry. Because she allowed the Giordano’s in. She came to love them – and they betrayed her. With her emotions in a heightened state at the moment, swollen anger, grief and guilt, she intends to let them drive her forward into action. She is the living embodiment of rage – and it will take her far.

What potential plots do you foresee for this character?

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Would you be open to this character’s death? 

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PARA SAMPLE

They say that when someone you love dies, a piece of you dies too. That was true. As her sister had passed into the world beyond, Noelle’s heart had gone with her. Now, it was nowhere to be found.

That was fine. The Grim Reaper could keep it – she wouldn’t need it for what came next.

At first, it hadn’t just been her heart that was absent – it had been her very soul. Every thought, every will, every anything she had ever felt – it had vanished overnight. It had been snatched the moment she was snatched, lying in a cold room – stripped naked. Now, it lay six feet under a gravestone simply entitled Camille. The pair of them had ceased to be a Dubois the moment they escaped their pit of a home. Their parents had ceased to claim any entitlement over them the moment they went to school with their bellies emptied, or huddled close at night – escaping their druggy friends whose hands always pinched a little too tight. Their parents had given them life, but then they had thrown them to it, allowing it to rub them raw. They didn’t get to own them. Nobody did.

Only she, out of all the souls in the world, could claim to call her sister her own. For only she had been there from the beginning to the bitter end. For only she had seen her laugh and cry. For only she had seen her fall and rise – and how she had looked the very first time she took a life. Camille only belonged to her – because no one else understood what this absence felt like. No one else understood what it was like to have a piece of yourself torn away, to have to swallow your grief and make nice with your enemies. No one else understood what it was like to look them in the eye, memorise the details of their black funeral garb and thank them for coming. No one had ever understood what it was like to be her. And the only one who could, the only one who had, was gone.

It was funny, the way they said that, gone. As if dressing it up was going to make it any more delicate. At least it was better than passed away. God, Noelle had wanted to reach down and rip out Vita’s throat when she had muttered that, in all her crocodile sympathy. “Such a shame about Camille’s passing. She really was a lovely girl.” Passing. What a fucking crock of shit. Camille hadn’t passed. She had been cut down. She had been torn away. She had been murdered. And Noelle, meeting Vita squarely in the eyes, knew exactly who was at fault. And she wasn’t about to give them a free pass for it either.

By the end of her sister’s funeral, the insufferable sadness had been replaced by something else. An insufferable rage. Inside, there was a fire that no water could quench. Inside, there was a burning desire to see justice done – to tear down and rip apart the fabric of reality in which they lived. For Camille’s death was no passing. It was no coincidence or accident. It was a direct manifestation from the games they both played. From the world the Giordano’s had inducted them into. How foolish they had been, two girls on the run, tempted by the idea of stability, by the idea of power, by the idea of earning what was owed. How silly she had been, to even think that they could have had it all. To think that the Giordano’s, in their fucked up family unit, could have ever cared. How stupid she had been not to see that she and Camille had never been anything other than pawns. And as anyone who has ever played chess before knows, the pawns are always the first to be sacrificed. That game was over. For Noelle had begun one of her own – and in this one, she wasn’t going to play by their rules. She was going to tear up the entire chessboard, rain hell down on their heads and look them in the eye as they watched their entire world fall apart.

That night, embracing them all as they said a weepy goodbye, her fingers inched close to her knife. It would have been swift and easy, to steal their lives as they stole her sisters. Perhaps it even would have been satisfying, to watch the light fade from their eyes as she had done so so many times before. (That sensation never lost its appeal, her victory never dimmed). But it wouldn’t have been just. Their lives weren’t the things they held most dear. Their games were. So if she was going to snatch the light of their life, their hearts and their souls – she would have to swallow her rage and wear the mask of a placated doe.

Vengeance would be hers. As would control.

And she would swallow all the hells to satisfy her own.

In this case, hell had its own name. Stavros.

He who held the keys to the kingdom was the individual she held responsible for Camille’s death. He who had been one of the first faces she had ever seen, he who raised her up. He who pressed a gun in his hand and who smiled at her poison. He who had commended her techniques – and then fell for them himself. Even men who held themselves in the highest esteems, who considered themselves lethal, could be brought down by something as simple as a pair of legs, a certain tone of voice and a body that spoke for itself. Take a man to bed – and you will expose him. And in doing so, bring all those little secrets to the light of day.

It had been pitifully easy. A few well-placed tears, touches that lingered longer than usual, a faux confession. His mind had willed her to become the girl in need of his care, the vulnerability to his masculinity. Effortlessly, she had delivered. Catching sight of herself in a mirror, she had to remark, she looked beautiful when she cried. The climax had come one bitter night – he half-drunk with whiskey she had carefully placed in his hand, she the vixen who pressed her body close – letting her aura soak into him. “Noelle…” he had begun, his voice torn between pushing her away and drawing her in closer. “I want you. I need you.” Such sweet lies from such poisonous lips. The deal had been struck. Every kiss was a dagger to her heart. Every fake orgasm was a betrayal. But with each touch, each word, each fuck, she asserted her dominance – she drew him in closer to her web, making herself indispensable. He would not do without her. She would become his addiction, his enthralling mistress – impossible to resist, impossible to suspect. The ruse had worked. He had become hers.

Before she destroyed the game all together, she would play one last time.

“You look practically delicious in my shirt.”

I know. Half buttoned and sat with her legs slightly parted, she painted herself as one of Da Vinci’s demons, an intoxicating drug you couldn’t get enough of. It was, after all, one of her specialities. Only this time, she wouldn’t be delivering the sweet kiss of death before dawn came.

“I have half a mind to rip it off of you.”

She cocks her head and lets her tongue run over her lips, leaning forward – closer. Her tricks are crafted well enough to appear real. As they should be – with all the practice she’s had. As a child, the woman she is now would have existed beyond belief – a near stranger through the window of the past. But she’s proud. The world threw all it could at her – and she shot back every time. She took all that weakness and used it to make her strong. She used their assumptions as weapons. She used their pressure points to draw blood. And she smiled whilst doing it. There’s a smirk painted on her face now and as she speaks, it’s like velvet manifesting. “So why don’t you?”

For emphasis – she undoes another button.

Moving to study his reaction, she can see excitement and desire inflame in his eyes, one hand reaching out to snatch what’s on offer. Never for a moment does he consider that it’s fake. Never for a moment does he look directly into her soul – and see the snake she plays him as. Good, he wouldn’t like what he saw. “Business calls – and I could never keep the Giordano’s waiting.” Their name is like a sour lemon, his loyalty to them laughable. Is he really so blind?

She already knows this. He’s foolish enough to write it all down in a diary.

Inching towards him, she’s close enough to have the heat of her breath ripple against his chest and twist his spine. Close enough to touch. Close enough to devour. Oh, silly boy, don’t you know she’s the one doing the devouring? “Oh? What are you doing for them now?” The innocence appears facetious on her – but she’s compelling enough to pull it off.

“Just the usual. Business meetings – orders, clients, admin. Your assignments aren’t pulled out of thin air, you know. Your weapons aren’t either.”

That didn’t save Camille. Even at the thought of her sister, in connection with this monster, is enough to stir the purest of anger inside of her. It isn’t so easily swallowed – but she forces it down, nothing more than a flash appearing in her eyes. Open me up, she muses, and all you will find is a burning fire. It wasn’t always like that. Once, there was space for more. Once, she had a heart. But that feels like a lifetime ago. And what’s the point of having a heart if there’s no one worthy enough to give it to?

“I’ll be here. Exactly the way you left me.” Teasing him in a tone that could only be described as intimate (he think he’s seeing more, he thinks her boundaries have been eroded), she curls her lips into a smile that doesn’t light up her eyes.

“In that case, I’ll hurry back.”

Reaching in, he steals a kiss from her before he parts – his breath poison to toxic lips. She wants nothing more to than erase him – to shower and wash him away, to erode every presence he has left upon her body. There are times when the things she does disgusts her. But she does it for love. She does it for the memory of Camille – the sister whose image fades a little more each time she conjures it in her mind. She does it because it’s the only thing that will satisfy the infernal rage inside of her. She does it because she made a promise to herself, a long time ago, to never be a victim.

The door slams as he leaves – and a familiar silence descends upon her. Relived, she stands up, immediately tearing off his shirt. She’d rather walk around topless than with any sign of him upon her body, any sign that he could have claimed her. Immediately, her hands seize his MacBook, carelessly left out on the bed. What a fool. What a fucking fool.

“Okay Stavros – let’s see what you really get up to.”

EXTRAS

Mockblog: X

Extended/Additional Connections: X

Personality Analysis: X

Headcanons: X