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deliciousgalaxyvoid · 4 years

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My Experience at a Trump Rally

Trump came to might hick state of Wisconsin yesterday, Sept 17th. Obviously, I was a young naïve baby at their first political rally and I really believed I would change some minds.

I brought a sign bringing light to the enormous death toll from Covid as a result of the negligent response by the Trump administration and stood for 8 hours at the entrance of the event. I was the only protestor there for a majority of the day. First things I noticed: 1) at least a third of the cars their were NOT from Wisconsin, 2) Damn near nobody had a mask, and if they did, it was a chin-strap, and 3) the only POC I saw were the merchants and children with white parents. A few POC with MAGA hats showed up within the last hour before the rally.

The first MAGAt to come up to me was a real Karen. She was a white woman, probably in her 60′s, MAGA hat, a chin-strap mask, and had her camera pointed at me, no doubt to “expose the liberal” with her Facebook group. She stated that 200,000 lives lost due to Covid, was nothing compared to the millions of babies “murdered” by democrats. I attempted to comeback with actual facts (there really aren’t as many abortions as she thinks, many abortions are done after rape, and there a TON of medical problems that will result in the death of the fetus and the mother unless an abortion can be preformed). I could barely list these without her interrupting me. She then decided to state the “fact” that masks were useless, and she cited Youtube as her source. She denied that Youtube is not a credible source of evidence. She told me that I needed to find Jesus. While I do not believe, I do find the real message of Jesus to be a good moral guide (love each other and don’t be a dick), and I told her that I would pray for her because the devil had clearly gotten hold of her. She said I worshipped the wrong Jesus, and she left.

I had a few local reporters come up to me and interview me. They were very respectful and allowed me to voice my opinion. The flow of traffic behind me was not happy about the Lib having an audience and flipped me off and honked their horns.

The last one to “interview” me, was a white man with a Q hat and a GoPro pointed at me. He asked if I thought if it was right to blame Trump for a virus he couldn’t predict and came from the Enemy (China). I said yes, because while we can’t know the origin, severity, and specifics of a virus in advance, scientists have been warning us for decades that this is a possibility we must prepare for. He then asked if it was right to blame Trump when Obama neglected to fill our PPE stocks while he was in office. I said yes, because Trump had 3 years to refill them. He then spouted some literal batshit that I could barely comprehend, because it was literally conspiracy theories to the max. But I reiterated that Trump and his admin are the sole reason so many Americans have died.

The next MAGAt to come up to me was a white man, probably in his 30′s with a graphic T-shirt of Trump in a crown. He told me Trump has done great things for this country and that Trump loves ME personally. I responded that the only type of “love” Trump is capable of giving to me is rape because he is a serial rapist and known pedo. He didn’t even deny it, he just continues with Trump loves “The Gays” and has done more for them than Obama. I tried to tell him how Trump has caused damage to the LGBTQ+ community and has encouraged his cult to attack them. He said that Biden was the one who was tearing us apart. He proceeded to tell me that BLM and feminism were the terrorists cause a great divide in our country. He asked for me to open my mind and see the truth. I wished him safety as he went back to the unmasked event.

The next few hours cars drove past. A few gave me thumbs up and told me they supported my message. One many told me I was an inspiration, and it made me pretty happy. Many just flipped me off, screamed at me to leave the country, told me that I was unwelcome there, that I shouldn’t feel safe there, and other words of hate and ignorance. The amusing part was that so many had their phones out while driving (it was a 45 zone), I almost saw pedestrians get hit, people almost rear-ended, crossing over lines, hitting the median, and my favorite was that about 30 cars pulled the wrong way into the one-way I was standing by. Don’t use your phone while driving, it is dangerous and you look like a fucking idiot. I had about 40 cars stop next to me and tell me I was a R-word for believing the fake news. I was stupid because the CDC said only 6% of the deaths were real (not true at all, and I tried to explain that). They asked “what about the 6 million babies murdered every year?”. I asked them about the immigrant children in cages, the millions of homeless and starving children in America, the millions in a disastrous foster system, the barely surviving education for or children. Their response? “TRUMP 2020!”

Nearing the start of the rally, there were a few more protestors. The only one of us that was liked were the guys with the Legalize Weed sign. There was another man with signs pointing out the corruption of Trump and another that said Black and Brown Lives Matter. He tried to hand out pamphlets stating why he, as a republican, would never vote for Trump. I liked him, as he was a great example of how this election isn’t about policy, it’s quite literally life and death for millions of Americans and immigrants. There was a mom who came really late with a Dump Trump sign, and she felt bad she couldn’t put more effort into being there or making a better sign. I told her I was still glad she was there to help bring any aspect of support. A few teens showed up and attempted to smuggle signs into the rally, no dice. I also met a few comrade medics, and they were pretty cool and supportive, and I learned more about Northern WI resistors. I stayed for a bit of the rally, but as a 5′4″ girl, I wasn’t safe there after dark.

So what did I learn from this event? 1) Rural Wisconsin, while redneck conservatives make up the general populous, most are not cultist types. Most of the people in attendance were not from rural WI, if they were from WI at all. 2) Even though this area tends to be “red” with a few liberal types here and there, most are not that into politics. At most they will put up yard signs and bumper stickers. So I wasn’t discouraged with the very small protest, because no one in the area cares to come to a Trump rally. 3)You can prepare as much data and facts as you want, I had prepared 3 pages of data, but they won’t listen. The ones that go to these rallies are really real cultists. They won’t listen to anything you have to say because they truly believe that you are there to spread hate and “Fake News”. No matter what you say, they WILL say Fake News and go about their day. 4) I listened to what each person said, I listened to the WI rep at the rally, and to part of Trump’s speech. It became very clear to me that this presidency and campaign has been built and supported by hate, fear, and “owning the libs”. The most noticeable thing I heard from supporters and speakers alike was blame. Everything was someone else’s fault. And I mean EVERYTHING. Obama, Biden, Hilary, Antifa, BLM. They were all to blame for the damage done to America, and his cult gobbled it up.

This is all I have to say. Whatever faith I had that these people could have a shred of humanity left in them is gone. There is no hope for Trump’s supporters.

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mxrcayong · 4 years

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the avatar series: 01.04

masterlist.

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chapter four:

Fourteen days.

It’s been fourteen days since Tari last saw Sukiara; her cold eyes, her gravelling words, and her haunting demeanor seem to follow her like a ghost. She could barely enter the café without being reminded of her shrilling words. Normally, Tari hates it when her bosses take over the café – giving Tari and Hendery paid time off work. But, as entering the café only has been acting as a painful reminder for the last two weeks, Tari is just grateful that her bosses see the café like their third child and like to take over for a week or two every few months.

Like she normally does when she has time off work, she tries and spends as much time as possible with her available friends. Her favorite thing to do during this time is join Johnny in his stories; trying out new things or participating in new adventures. Normally, he loves her presence – often begging her to come along. But now, if she comes along – she puts Johnny at risk. He’s been tasked (and by ‘tasked’, he was so invested in the topic he ‘tasked’ himself with it) with investigating the increasing anti-bending protests. He refused to take Tari with him; not wanting to put her in any danger, saying if he was the reason she is hurt – he’d never forgive himself.

It all started the day after Avatar Day. It first started with a few individuals on the street, screaming with all the air in the lungs to ‘monitor benders’. At first, it was nothing. Just another anti-bender; just another thing you can walk past without worrying for your life. But then it slowly got bigger; groups of five or ten marching to the gyms, marching around the street – spreading propaganda about the dangers of liberated benders.

When Kilari and Tari decided to do a shopping day, they didn’t expect to end up in the local jail only an hour within their outing.

“I’ll pay you back for bail.” Kilari said in a gruff voice, still upset about what had happened. “Can we just grab beers and go to your place?”

Tari nodded. “No need to pay me back.” Tari hadn’t even spent a dime. Instead of paying bail, she called Lin and Tenzin about what happened. Lin, the head of police, then called the local jail and told them to release Kilari. One benefit of being the Avatar? Having close relationships with people of power. “Sounds good. I’ll tell Sonan to meet us at my place.”

The look Sonan gave her two friends was reminiscent of a disappointed mother as they both blubbered out excuses for their actions. She had entered Tari’s shared apartment with take-out from their favorite barbeque restaurant, only knowing that ‘they got into a bad situation’ and wanting to cheer them up. But Sonan was greeted with the sight of Kilari lying down on the couch, a bowl of water on the coffee which Tari was using to aid her water-bending to heal Kilari by reducing her bruises and cuts.

“What on earth happened?” Sonan sighed, putting the food on the coffee table and placing herself next to the kneeling Tari.

Like a warning, Tari gave Kilari a glare. Kilari always gets riled up. She’s the perfect personification of fire; easy to anger and full of passion. Tari knew once she gets started about describing the incident, Kilari will only be screaming and causing a noise complaint. “We saw a protest on the street.” Tari explained, “It was the biggest protest we’ve seen. At least fifty people.”

Kilari, like always, didn’t heed Tari’s warning. “They were growling and roaring and basically implying that we were animals. Us? Animals? We don’t do shit!” Kilari started trying to get up, but Tari slightly nudged her back to lying down. “We don’t carry bats or signs that we later use to hit anyone who protests against us!”

“I tried to stop her from threatening them,” Tari commented, “She promised me we’d just walk past to get to the grocery but she acted up against them as soon as we were in front of them.”

The fire bender looked at Tari with disappointment. “You make it sound like this is my fault.” She huffed, trying to look tough. Unfortunately, this façade was quickly destroyed by Tari accidentally getting too close to a wound while healing it, making Kilari flinch.

“The police saw how much the protestors were threatening others but they still arrested Kilari with the ‘intent to cause harm using bending’”. Tari sighed hopelessly, “Even after the protestors hit her with whatever they had.”

Kilari was enfuriated once more. “I literally just approached them with my hands slightly on fire. I threatened them to leave the park and disperse because they were yelling at everyone and getting into their personal spaces! They’ve been attacking people all day, but once I approach with some sort of fire – they attack me and then the police arrest me but not them?!?”

“Johnny was right,” Sonan commented, finally understanding what happened. “The government is anti-bending. I can’t believe the police did that.” Tari melted the same ice she molded onto Kilari’s shoulder. It’s the last spot Tari would have to heal before Kilari is as healed as can be. “I’m glad you didn’t join him, bubs.” Sonan looked at Tari with sincerity; concern laced in her eyes.

Tari let out a sad chuckle, “It’s not like we’re glued to the hip, you know.”

“But it is like that.” Sonan implied with a cheeky smirk. Yes, it’s true. Tari and Johnny spend a lot of time together. Tari enjoys goofing off with him, either on stories or during their free time. She enjoys the moments Johnny comes to the café, wearing a goofy hat, to make her laugh during long shifts. Did she want to spend today with him? Yes. Did she mind getting in danger for him? No. Did she mind if Johnny wasn’t okay with it? Yes.

Kilari’s anger dissipated and turned into a suggestive look. “Johnny is hot.”

Tari rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to heal you or not?” She teased, before temporarily stopping the healing process.

“How did you get out?” Sonan asked, now making herself comfortable by sitting with her legs crossed on the floor.

“Tari bailed me out.” Kilari was quick to respond. Guilt found herself bubbling in Tari’s stomach for lying. She used her Avatar background to her advantage, to help her friend. But she couldn’t have used it to save her in the first place. I should’ve done something, she chastised herself, as she observed the red spots on Kilari’s body.

Tari bit her lip, trying to change the topic. “Have you told your parents?” Kilari’s parents were members of the Fire Sages – the religious authority that preserves the Fire Nation religion and their culture. Initially, their role was to identify and care for the Avatar but once The White Lotus came into the public eye after being a secret society for so long, they took over that duty. This has meant that once Kilari turns 25 in two years, she must commit to the Sages. Or, at least, she’s expected to commit. Her father was one of the highest-ranking authorities, so as a child – she was practically groomed for the role. As a result, Kilari did everything she can to make sure before she had to commit, she’ll do everything she won’t be able to do once she vows her life to the organization. This meant being endlessly reckless, impulsive, and acting upon any sin she could: drinking excessively, remaining unemployed, casually dating and sleeping with multiple women and men, and doing whatever she desires whenever she wants. Johnny and Doyoung would joke about how Tari and Kilari were complete opposites; Tari being extremely careful while Kilari has been recorded saying ‘fuck the consequences’ on multiple occasions.

“Eh,” Kilari shrugged, brushing off the consequences. “They’ll find out. And it’s not like it’ll surprise them, at least I have done one more thing a Sage can’t be caught doing.” She joked with a dry chuckle, making Tari and Sonan dryly laugh with her. “Now, Sonan, tell us about your day.”

As Sonan told the story of an old man who came into the shop and cried over a painting with a depiction of his mother on it, Tari focused on the healing. Usually, healing doesn’t take long – but something about the weapons the protestors used were stronger than normal, as if they had a wall Tari had to break through before she could heal her friend. Eventually, Tari took her hands away from Kilari’s shoulder. “We’re all done.” She rubbed her hands together and launched herself to her feet, grabbing the bowl of water and heading to the kitchen. “Do you want tea or-?”

“Beer.” Sonan and Kilari both answered in unison.

“We planned on a drunk movie night, and I’ll be damned if I let the protestors take that away from us too.” Kilari groaned, sitting up on the couch and dragging Sonan to sit beside her. Kilari forced a smile, but Tari could see how dejected she really is. But if a film night is what she wants, then that’s what she’ll get. She deserves a break.

Within what felt like minutes, the three girls were sprawled out across the room, watching some trash movie on the projector. They were giggling and obviously nowhere near sober. It was like everything from the day has been forgotten, after numeral vodka or tequila shots as of their drinking game, all whilst casually drinking beers.

“Do you think,” Sonan burped, “you can bend beer?” She asked Tari, who would normally reject testing this theory out and just answer based off logic.

“I mean, wait, how much water is in beer?” Tari slurred, her head falling back on the couch.

Kilari jumped to her feet, “I’ll check!” She practically screamed as she ran towards her phone, giggling the whole way. “More than 5% for sure.” She claimed loudly after (failing) to read some article on her phone. She made her way back to the couch, but decided to sit on the floor instead of next to her two friends.

Tari shrugged, pouting her lower lip before stretching out her palm and initially wiggling her fingers to see for a reaction. Once she felt some sort of connection between her and what’s in the bottle, which feels like an invisible weight in her hands, she lifted her palm up while flexing her fingers. Luckily to her, a column of beer lifted out of the bottle – making the three friends giggle.

But that beer soon fell to the floor as the slamming of the door made all three of them jump. Their heads turned harshly to face the source of the noise, spotting Johnny and Doyoung at the door. Doyoung was leaning on Johnnny, obviously having limped his way to the door.

The sight was enough to sober up Sonan a lot and just enough for Tari. “Oh for Aang’s sake, don’t tell me its another protest!” Kilari screamed in disappointment, all whilst giggling. “I swear, I’m going to kill some of them one day.”

Tari and Sonan quickly scrambled off the couch and approached. “I got him,” Johnny noted, trying not to laugh at the state of the girls while he was taking care of Doyoung. “Tari, can you just get a bowl of water and heal him?”

The water bender quickly nodded as Johnny and Sonan guided the injured air bender to the couch, letting him lay down and elevating his leg with a pillow. “What happened?” Sonan asked Johnny while Tari quickly walked her way over, returning to her previous position kneeling by the couch. The same position she was a few hours ago. Her face was now wet, an obvious and successful attempt in sobering up.

Johnny sighed, sitting in the opposite chair as his hand supported his head. “I was on my story when I heard the fire bending gym got destroyed and the other gyms were vandalized. I knew Doyoung would be either at the temple or the gym so of course I was worried.” Sonan listened intently, while Tari tried to bend – but found the same block as she did before.

What is this? She thought, Why is this happening again? Are these people all armed?? It wasn’t long before she realized they must all be connected; the protestors and the individuals who are anti-bending. They’re not only connected in their shared belief, but also in their materials. She couldn’t concentrate fully on Johnny’s story. She was still too tipsy to focus purely on getting past this block.

“I went and saw a bunch of emergency vehicles and police officers. Police officers were arresting the benders who were present but not injured, while the injured ones got sent to the hospital.” Johnny motioned to Doyoung, “Doyoung was, weirdly enough, lucky to be injured.”

Doyoung was quick to pipe up, his eyes now fully open rather than it’s previous state as only partially open out of exhaustion. “I was lucky though. A bender was killed. A bunch of other benders were very badly wounded. I just got a broken leg and a few cuts. We all tried to defend ourselves all while trying not to hurt them.”

“Even so.” Kilari growled, full of rage. Even Johnny seemed to jump at Kilari’s sudden change in tone. “The police arrested those who were victims! What happened to the attackers?”

Johnny shared Kilari’s rage. “They got away free. The police saw them, theres footage – but the police is blaming the benders for even trying to defend themselves.”

“Kilari got in a similar accident today.” Tari commented just loud enough for people to hear, trying to still break away the block.

“Johnny, Doyoung, I’ll make you some tea.” Sonan offered, quickly scurrying her way into the kitchen. “Have you guys eaten? I can make you guys some food. We ate all the take out but I can make you guys something. Are you thirsty?” Tari chuckled lightly, loving how Sonan can be a great mother within minutes.

While Johnny and Kilari fueled their anger by ranting and plotting, Tari focused on the push and pull of the water. Something about the block was offering more push than any other substance or situation she dealt with. She had a clear mind earlier, allowing her to deal with this block with more ease. As of right now, traces of alcohol ran through her; fuzzing her thoughts and harming her focus. She knew that the only reason she had a chance to even break this block was because she was trained to be exemplary in water bending and knew at least the basics of every other bending. If she wasn’t the Avatar, she wouldn’t be able to heal him. But her friends didn’t need to know how difficult it was.

The invisible weight of bending seemed unusually heavier than usual because of this block. The push and pull that comes from water bending seems to be more push than anything, pushing her away from helping her friend. Her heart rate was increasing. What if I can’t help? She thought, If this doesn’t work, I’m useless. I could’ve prevented it from happening.

She looked around the room; seeing the flame in Johnny’s eyes and the unconscious flame being sparked in Kilari’s hands. It was known Johnny was not a bender, but if anyone could see him now – the fire that came from his words, the angry flame in his eyes – they’d doubt that. Tari has never seen Johnny this angry; he was always the passionate, driven, goofy, and kind best friend who she could trust with everything. Just looking at him made Tari’s heart drop, which didn’t help when she turned and saw Doyoung’s injured form. It dropped even more.

I could’ve done something, she reprimanded herself. Doyoung started squirming, withering in pain. She must’ve passed the block because soon the cuts started to close, because soon his face was washed with relief.

It took fifteen minutes to heal him. Sonan had prepared the tea and another meal for the two boys by the time she was done, and as soon as the meal was put on the dining table – Doyoung was able to walk with minimal trace of what happened. Everyone had gathered around the table, but Tari couldn’t deal with it.

Bending felt like there was an invisible weight or force on wherever you’re bending from. But, other than that, there was no other weight. However, Tari felt the weight of her bending ability – of her Avatar ability – on her heart, on her shoulders. She could’ve prevented this from happening. She could’ve helped them faster. If I never came here, if the Avatar wasn’t in Sooman city, would this still be happening? She knows it silly, she knows no one knows where the Avatar is in the world (everyone except her, the White Lotus, and the officials who help teach her the different bending skills). But what if someone did find out? What if these protestors are doing this because of her? What if they need to be reminded by the Avatar bending isn’t dangerous?

Tari felt overwhelmed. The dining table and her friends repelling her. She felt like she was going to pass out. She felt exhausted from her thoughts and from having to see her friends in pain. She felt guilty. She felt angry at the protestors, but mainly herself. This is my fault. But most of all, she felt lost. She needed to be alone.

“Uhm, you guys eat.” She croaked out as she noticed Sonan looking up at her expectantly, trying to call her to the table. “I’m going to the roof. I need some air.” She noticed Johnny’s eyes flickered at her with concern, but she quickly turned away. She cannot hide how she’s feeling right now and she’s worried she may accidentally bend another element in front of them. Yes, the two bending abilities she’s best at are the ones of patience, serenity, and adaptability. She always excelled better at water and air compared to fire and earth, but fire bending and earth bending was inside of her as well. She felt the anger bubble the fire. Even as much as she tried to focus on meditating and controlling her power, like she was taught by Tenzin, she had to bite it back. She must.

She went to the small cabinet in their apartment with the secret compartment where the ladder to the roof was. Once she made it up, the breeze hit her like a warm embrace. She walked to the railing, resting her body weight upon it as she stared at the city.

The city was lit up with neon lights, the sounds of the hover cars honking and driving past soothing. She saw the ocean when she looked towards the south of the city. She saw the statue of Aang, protecting the city. A statue of the Avatar, protecting the city. Like she should be doing. Like she’s supposed to be doing.

She thought back to when she was younger, to when she would go into the Avatar State to meet Aang. Like all Avatars, she had the ability to talk to previous versions of herself when in the Avatar State – a difficult state to get into. She could only enter it while meditating or when in deep fear. Luckily for her, the White Lotus gave her a space that’s heavily connected with the spirit, allowing her to meditate and access the Avatar State fast. Despite that, the current Avatar always have a deeper connection with their most previous reincarnation. In this case, Tari was closest to Aang.

She doesn’t want to enter it now; she doesn’t want to see Aang’s face. She doesn’t want to tell him that the city he built with his best friend is being destroyed from within. I’m sorry, she thought to herself a message for Aang, I’m sorry that I disappointed you.

“How are you not freezing?” A sudden voice jolted her out of her trance. She jumped, making her clutch her heart. She’s glad it wasn’t too much of a fright; or else she may have entered the Avatar State. She may have showed Johnny her true identity. She may have lost Johnny forever. “Oh shit, sorry.” He chuckled as he shrugged off his jacket and threw it over Tari’s bare shoulders.

Tari’s air bending abilities have always protected her from the cold. Their breaths act as climate regulators. It’s one of the advantages of air bending. It’s why Doyoung owns minimal jackets for practicality and all his jackets are for the sole purpose of fashion. “I’m fine, you should have it. You had a long day.” She tried to shrug it off, but Johnny had wrapped his arm around her – trapping her in it.

“It’d be an even longer day if my best friend freezes herself to death.” Tari rolled her eyes, before letting herself lose herself in his comforting embrace. She may have to lose Johnny soon, she’s going to take advantage of any interaction with him before she loses him to the truth of her identity. “You alright?”

Tari hated Johnny. Tari hated the way he speaks that instantly makes her want to tell him everything and how the sound of his voice instantly soothes her. Yet, she bit back the truth.

“I’m okay, just overwhelmed. And you?”

Johnny sighed, biting his lip and staring out at the city that never sleeps underneath the nighttime moon. “Guess I could say the same.” He smiled sadly, tightening his grasp of Tari. It wasn’t to comfort her, but to remind him she was there. To remind him she has yet to be touched by the evil in the city. To remind him that she’ll always be there and that to him, she’s who she always will be. “Today has truly been insane.”

Tari hummed in agreement, a comforting silence following. She let her head rest on his shoulder. He smelt like pinewood, even after running around the whole day investigating stories. But she also caught hints of Doyoung’s lavender scent, probably from having carried him from the hospital.

“Have you finished eating?” She mumbled under her breath. She felt Johnny nod from the top of her head.

“I got full.”

Tari jokingly faked her surprise, jumping out of his grasp and playfully checking his forehead. “You’re not sick. Who are you? And what did you do with the real Johnny?”

Johnny rolled his eyes, “Har-di-har-har. Nice to know you still have a sense of humor.” He playfully nudged her. She returned to her place resting on the railing, but a distance away from Johnny. Even though being in his presence felt comforting, the guilt settled inside again. He doesn’t know who I am, she thought, and he’d only be more angry at me for it.

His soft brown eyes continued to stare at his best friend. “You know,” He sighed with a soft smile, “I’m so glad I met you guys a few years back.” He commented, “I’m not going to lie but I’m glad I have two friends who I can trust to always be there, y’know?” He stared at Tari, who refused to return the eye contact. Johnny’s eyes were gleaming and shining. “I didn’t think I’d meet anyone like you guys, and I’m so glad you both are okay.” He smiled. “I don’t think my life would be the same without you.”

Tari finally looked away from the statue of Aang and at Johnny, “I’d never want to lose you guys.” And that’s why I must lie to you all.

a/n: please fill out this form if you can!!

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dontshootmespence · 5 years

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Supernatural AU: Episode 5 - Faith

Part 4

Feeling the bile rise in her throat, Bobbie turned away, combing her hands through her hair. Sam found six other people in the past year alone that had been cured by Reverend LaGrange. “Each time, someone else died at the exact same time of the same thing that he was healing.”

“So Marshall Hall died because of me?” Dean asked. “You shouldn’t have brought me here.”

Bobbie spun around to face him. “No. It wasn’t your fault. It’s whatever is out there doing this. You had nothing to do with it.”

“We didn’t know,” Sam said quietly.

“It’s not your fault either! It’s not the fault of any of us!”

“He probably would’ve died anyway,” Sam said. It didn’t make Dean feel any better. “And someone else would’ve been healed instead of you.”

“How is he doing it?” For the life of her, Bobbie couldn’t figure out how the Reverend was healing people but killing others. Did he even know he was doing it?

Dean hadn’t wanted to admit what he had seen – the old man standing behind the Reverend when he’d been healed – but there was no denying it. “It’s not him. Something else is doing it for him. That old man I saw.”

“What about him?”

“There’s only one thing that can give and take life like that, Bobbie. It’s a reaper.”

------

Stopping to catch her breath, she felt a chill in the air, but not the kind she was used to. She took this path all the time, but it felt different today.

When she turned around, ready to start running again, she saw a man. His skin was wrinkled and gray and he wore a suit that made him look like he belonged in a funeral home. A small smile crept across his lips, but not a word came out.

She turned and ran, not wanting to stick around to see what this creep had in mind, but the second her back was to him he appeared in front of her again, causing her to fall to the ground.

She couldn’t move. Frozen in place, he placed his hand on her head. The breath left her lungs, her throat closed, her head pounded like she was being hit over the head with a hammer. Before she could plead for her life, she fell to the ground as a man towns away, glued to a wheelchair and oxygen tank for years, moved and breathed deeply, grateful for a merciful God.

------

“The Grim Reaper?” They’d delved into whatever reaper lore they could find, but Sam still couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“No, no,” Dean replied. “Not the reaper, a reaper.”

She didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense. “Almost every culture in the world has reaper lore.”

“But you said you saw a man in a suit?” The picture didn’t fit.

Dean filed through the papers in front of him and laughed. “What? He should’ve been rocking the scythe and long black robe?”

Sam raised on eyebrow. Well, maybe? “That’s what I always thought and we haven’t encountered one before…shut up.”

Bobbie snickered at the picture of the fictitious Grim Reaper – only on television.

“Look you said it yourself, the clock froze right?”

Nodding, Sam glanced at the page Dean passed him. “Reapers stop time. Plus they can only be seen when they’re comin’ at you, which makes sense when you think about why I saw it and you two didn’t.”

“Maybe.” Sam bit his lip and stared off into the distance, hoping another, less sinister explanation would come out and hit him in the face.

“It has to be.”

“Well how the hell is he controlling it?” Bobbie asked.

“The cross.” Realization dawned on Sam’s face.

“What?”

“There was a cross in the tent. I’d seen it somewhere before, but I wasn’t sure where.” Reaching for a deck of cards from his bag, he rifled through and found the one he was looking for, handing it to Bobbie who immediately passed it to Dean.

“Tarot.”

Hundreds of years back, some priests used magic and even fewer delved into the black magic – the evil shit that no one should mess with. “They’d use it to stave off death, take it, anything.”

“So the Reverend is using black magic to bind a reaper?” Bobbie asked astounded that she’d been so off the mark regarding the man’s character.

And it was like playing with fire. “Probably, and it’s risky. Like putting a leash on a great white and hoping you can control it.”

Dean strode toward the refrigerator, reaching for a beer before realizing they didn’t have any. “We have to stop Roy.”

“How?”

Bobbie knew what Dean was thinking but they couldn’t go down that road; they went down that road and there was no returning.

“You know how.” He said pointedly.

Sam and Bobbie spoke at the same time. “No.”

“No way,” he continued. “We’re not killing another human being.”

“Then how do we stop this?”

Bobbie’s brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out the best possible scenario here. She felt like she was falling short until it dawned on her. “We break the bind.”

“So we fuck with black magic and hope it doesn’t kill us,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “Great.”

------

When they got back to the tent, Dean went in to distract him so Bobbie and Sam could hopefully find something to break whatever black magic spell was being used to bind the reaper.

The oldest and youngest Winchesters snuck around the sides of the house looking for some way in that didn’t involve them vandalizing the property. That probably wouldn’t go over too well.

Inside, Bobbie searched through every drawer she could find while being careful not to make it look like the place had been ransacked. When she and Dean were in the house the day before, it felt warm and inviting, but now it felt cold, like something could be around the corner waiting to attack them at any time.

She pounded on the creaky floorboards, moved furniture, any place she could think of that their answer might be hiding, she searched, but nothing was showing itself to her. “Bobbie, over here.”

On a bookshelf, Sam found dust coating the shelves with the exception of one spot in front of one book. In and of itself, the book didn’t mean anything, but spells and diagrams and pictures lay inside along with newspaper articles weirdly enough. “Supernatural or not, zealots are zealots apparently,” she huffed.

Each and every newspaper article featured one of the victims that had died over the course of the past year. Marshall Hall was gay. The woman before that was an abortion rights activist. All people that a religious zealot would consider immoral. “Shit,” Bobbie said holding the last article up.

Without another word, the two bolted out of the window through which they’d entered. “Dean,” Sam said, speaking quickly as they ran in the direction of the tent. “The protestor outside the church is going to be the next victim. You can’t let Roy heal anyone.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“No clue,” he replied. “But do whatever it takes.”

------

Hanging up, Dean turned his attention back toward the Reverend, who literally said the one name he’d been silently begging him not to say. “Laila, child. Come on up here.”

“No, no, no.” Not only had he been chosen when she was dying of a brain tumor, but now he had to stop her from being healed. “Laila,” he said, grabbing her gently by the arm before she got to the stage. “Don’t go up there. You can’t.”

“Why? We’ve waited for months.” This was her chance. She could finally be healed.

The Winchester hunter golden rule was not to tell people of the supernatural. He couldn’t say anything. “Something bad is going to happen.”

She whispered, “I’m sorry.” His struggle with his faith and what had happened was his own problem. There was light at the end of her tunnel and she had to make a run for it.

If he hadn’t already been healed, he would swear his palpitating heart was a sign of an incoming heart attack. As the small flock raised their hands in preparation for Laila’s healing, Dean ran to the back of the tent and distorted his voice. “Fire! Fire! Everyone out!”

In the still of the night, the protestor ran between parked cars, screaming for help. “Where is it?” Sam asked.

The man pointed to the empty space in front of him, breathing the slightest sigh of relief when Bobbie and Sam placed themselves in the reaper’s path.

Laila’s mother cried out, begging everyone to continue. Dean hated himself, but he picked up the phone and called Bobbie. “I stopped it.”

“It’s still here,” she replied. She couldn’t see it, but the protestor was still panicking, seeing the weathered face around every turn.

It made no sense. Dean had stopped Laila from being healed. Wasn’t that enough? Then he saw her. Sue Ann in the corner of the tent, clutching something. Running to her, he spun her around and saw the cross – the same one that was on the tarot card.

Dean tried reaching for the necklace. He wanted this all to be over. Winchesters normally swam in guilt, but he was drowning in it and he wanted to put as many miles as he could between himself and this place. But the moment he extended his hand toward her, she screamed. “Help! Help!”

He rolled his eyes as two cops came up on either side of him to escort him out of the tent. When she followed them out, her self-righteous smile made Dean’s skin crawl. “After everything we did for you? Roy healed you and this is how you repay us?”

Dean bore daggers into the so-called devout Christian as the cops ate up her act like Sunday dinner. “You can let him go officers. I won’t be pressing charges. God will do with him as he sees fit.” The condescension radiated off her in waves.

“We don’t wanna see you here again, do you hear?” The cop asked. “We see you again and we’ll put the fear of God in you.” If Dean rolled his eyes any harder, they’d get stuck there.

Out of their grasp, he turned to see Laila emerging from the tent. “Dean, why would you do that? That could’ve been my only chance.”

“Roy isn’t who he says he is.” He wanted so badly for her to believe him, but he knew his explanation – his true explanation - would only bring anger and resentment.

She couldn’t grasp why he said what he said. “He healed you?”

“I know, but - look I can’t explain why, but things aren’t what they seem to be.”

With a disappointed shrug, Laila chewed on the corner of her lip and walked away, turning back just once to wish Dean luck. “I really do wish you good luck.”

“Same to you. You deserved a lot more than me.”

As the three made their way to the car, they walked through waves of disappointed patrons, only to overhear the Reverend and his wife talking with Laila’s mother. “I’ll heal your daughter. No interruptions. I promise.”

Anyone who said life was fair was out of their fucking minds.

@remember-me-forever-silent-angel @gaylemonshark @marveldivergentouatdctvfangirl @lalirang @averagekansan @addsomesalt @stusbunker @sebba-hiddles @fanfictionrecommendations-com @hoppy519 @thatwrestlingfan91 @extremeobsessions101 @spence-imagines @bettercallsabs @whaaatthefuuuuck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @your-imagination-runs-wild @cryinglots @steggy01 @gigilame @sedulous-mind @a-unique-girls-heaven @just-antiyou @rmmalta @original-criminal-fanfics @ties-n-suits @veroinnumera @eurusholmmes @fanficienjoyedreading @astridstark13 @ties-n-suits @demonlover87 @kennybud @shittyafblogwnopoint @pleasantlyfadingpeace @bulldozed88 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @ocappreciation

#supernatural #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobbie deanna winchester #dontshootmespence #faith #s1ep5

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mybukz · 5 years

Text

Serial Fiction: The Trees of 8/2—Chapter 1

Image by Matthew T Rader on Unsplash

The Trees Of 8/2: Chapter 1

By Lingesvaran S

Trees have feelings. They harbour anger, rage, sadness, and pour forth love selflessly. When a massive highway begins its snaking path through Damansara, a revolt begins, stirred by an ancient evil and the lust for gold. This is the first chapter of the suffering of trees and the greed of men. The next chapter coming soon.

Jagish sighed and picked up the remains of his cigarette from the packet of noodles. He regretted flicking it with his injured finger.

The wind had died down but he looked up when a whistle rang through the boughs of the lone pokok payung. It was an odd tree. The usual ones had layers of spread out arms, with evenly spaced branches and leaves. This one had boughs. Packs of branches curled up into dark, dense clumps.

He stood staring at the tree, half clouded in darkness, away from the halogen lights. Eventually, he flicked the second cigarette at the tree and began his inspection route.

It was happening every night now.

Jagish clocked in, walked around the soil test sites and found drills broken at a site every night. Last night's incident got him into a fight with the day supervisor. They had argued about the illegal workers being not skilled and their carelessness causing damage to the equipment. He rode home with a cracked lip and bleeding nose.

There hadn’t been proof of tampering by vandals or the resident groups, though the police did take in some of the rowdier protestors for questioning.

Nothing. No one saw or heard anything.

Ten minutes into his rounds he arrived at the second site, and sighed when he saw the mangled mess. He wondered if feral dogs could have done it. His nose was still sore. He winced as he blew it, ejecting snot and dried blood.

"Nope. Not feral dogs," he decided.

A couple, worse for drink, ambled past him. He stared at them until they stopped near his bike. The girl held the friend as he heaved and emptied his guts.

"Oi!" Jagish shouted, and sprinted across. The man straightened up and ran, dragging the bemused girl with him.

"The stink is never going to go off!" he shouted, waving his fist at them while wiping the seat with his face towel.

A loud crack startled him. Jagish looked around. It had sounded like a breaking branch, but the last of the trees along this stretch was felled yesterday. The last Flame Of The Forest was colossal and they couldn't dig up the root after it fell. What remained as a one-meter high stump was currently a seat for an old man, who was staring at Jagish.

Jagish blinked and rubbed his eyes, just to be sure.

"Hello?" he tried.

The stare continued in silence.

"Uhm, uncle? Are you from around here?" Jagish tried again.

He wasn't sure if the man was Malay or Chinese. Definitely wasn't Indian, he decided, judging from the attire.

The old man was in a robe that covered his limbs. He was sitting cross-legged, hands resting on his knees. The old man shifted without moving his arms and nodded at a pile of logs stacked neatly on the pavement opposite.

"Where are they going?" the old man asked.

"What?" Jagish said, startled at the way the robe changed colour in the breeze.

"Where are you taking them?" the old man rephrased.

Jagish shrugged, trying to focus on the robe. Something told him that the old man wasn't exactly directing the question to him, rather to someone who Jagish couldn't see.

He saw the old man nod, agreeing to someone.

"OK, a nutcase," Jagish told himself and started towards the old man to remove him from the site.

Except, the old man wasn't on the stump anymore. Nor was he in the vicinity. Jagish was alone, with the distant sounds of a pub closing down for the night. He stood staring at the empty stump until he felt his thumping heart slow down to a purr.

"OK, don't panic. You're tired, hating this job and imagining things," he thought and continued aloud, "Old men don't stay out late, sitting on tree stumps, and you need another smoke."

Jagish sat on the stump and rolled himself a cigarette. It wasn't the perfect roll he usually prided himself with. It was hard to keep hold of the tobacco even when your fingers were trembling and your palms were sweaty. He took a deep drag from the slightly moist and bent rollup, glad for the throat hit and vanilla cherry flavour. The exhale caught his throat when he saw a shadow detach itself from a lamp post and limp into a gap in the roadside bush. Choking and rasping, he stood and squinted. The limp sort of reminded him of his grandma. Before he could shout, the shadow disappeared into the gloom. Jagish shook his head and smacked his face. This was getting a bit too much for one night. He needed something stronger.

"Where have you been?"

The figure removed the hood and gave a toothy grin.

"Scaring the kids coming out from the gaming centre," it replied to the old man.

The old man sighed, "you were supposed to be here hours ago. Do you know how tiring it is to be at two places at once?"

The shadow limped from one foot to the other and shrugged.

"Of course, you don't," snapped the old man. "Now, go to the T junction and man the broken lamp post. The Payungs will be out in force tonight."

"Woman," said the shadow.

"What?"

"Woman the lamp post," it clarified and sniggered.

The old man glared at the shadow as it limped away.

Jagish spat out the rest of the rollup and walked a nonchalant but brisk stroll towards the 7-Eleven. The supervisor wouldn’t mind him grabbing a beer. “What he doesn’t know, wouldn't hurt me,” Jagish thought.

Perhaps he was tired of this job. He had been a site clearance officer for three years but had already started hating it after the first four months. It was the only thing he knew and his dismal SPM results didn't open many other doors. And then the DASH highway project was approved and with a promotion to supervising site inspector, he was posted here. The project would give him at least another four years of employment, if the feral dogs or the resident protestors didn’t get to him first.

Tonight was probably his imagination or it could be a sign for change.

The 7-Eleven was close to the last two sites. He decided it would be quicker to inspect them and then knock off for the night. He skipped over the road divider and headed to the closest one.

It was only set up yesterday, and he was worried about the silence of the drills. They should have been hammering the ground.

Wind whistled through the gaps in the twisted metal. The drill bit was missing. Jagish reached out to touch the tortured hammer but drew back his hand and swallowed. A gnarled root was withdrawing into the hole below the drill. At the pointed end, the root grasped the torn up drill bit. It paused, shivered, and then with a sound like shovel slapping wet cement, it was out of sight.

It was the last straw. Jagish, frozen for the few seconds of gazing-at-an-impossible-root, screamed, turned and smacked his forehead on a trunk. A branch caught him as he slid, unconscious, to the ground.

Clementine Joe sipped his iced white coffee as he read the report. He reached into his pocket for the absent box of cigarettes, sighed, and picked up his vape.

He stared at the fresh report from the site manager. Another missing person. The site supervisor didn't clock out that morning and he was suspected of running off with the workers’ salaries.

Highly unlikely, he thought. CJ knew Jagish. He often mumped roll ups on long nights from him. The man had an integrity of sorts. The kind that didn’t rip off contract foreigners.

There was a mention of alcohol somewhere in the report.

Jagish didn’t drink. He remembered the tale of Jagish’s father drinking himself to bankruptcy one long night at the mamak. Jagish had to work after school, with his mum, cleaning offices.

No, he definitely didn’t drink.

He was missing, a day after the kids.

His friends only knew CJ as Wacko Joe. Only his mother called him Clementine. His late father called him ‘Bastard’, when he wasn’t drunk, and ‘Boy’, when he was. To his crew, he was known as Captain CJ, and in one particular case, ‘Boss’.

“Kumar!” he shouted at a reclining figure on the guest sofa.

The figure jumped up and tripped on a cat, resulting in a squeal and groan.

“Boss?” Kumar limped over to the Captain’s desk.

“Why didn’t you alert me about this?” he said, waving the report.

“What is that, boss?” Kumar said, holding his bleeding arm.

CJ paused, allowing the man to grab a tissue and wipe the blood from a scratch wound.

“How many times have I told you to get rid of the cat?”

Kumar shrugged, looking sheepish.

“He doesn’t cause any trouble, boss.”

Kumar’s eyes followed his Captain’s gaze to his arm.

“Right, and stop snoozing on the sofa. You were supposed to be on rounds tonight.”

Kumar shrugged again.

“The Corporals are on patrol tonight. I took the last two nights, boss,” Kumar said, wincing at the scowl from CJ.

“The Corporals? The Corporals? They’re on desk duty until I tell them! Those idiots couldn’t stay away from the maids, remember? I had to do something to make sure no one gets fired. Especially me!”

He paused for another tissue wipe.

“Get them back here this instant. I need to look into this,” he said, waving the report again.

Kumar’s eyes darted to the report.

“Is that the one about the missing site supervisor?”

CJ nodded, while Kumar continued, “But that’s not ours, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean … I mean, this is the settlements case,” Kumar stammered.

CJ sighed, “No, this is the one from DP.”

“That’s what I meant,” Kumar said, “the settlements.”

CJ frowned. “The orang asli settlements? No, he was reported missing at the highway site at DP…”

“… near the settlements,” Kumar finished the sentence.

“So?” CJ said, incredulous.

“The cursed trees? The missing kids? The old man?” Kumar pointed out, pointing three fingers at CJ.

“What?” CJ laughed, “those are just stories to scare the workers. This is real.”

Kumar looked at the sergeant. He’s known him for over twenty years, ever since they joined the Watch. CJ had climbed up the Watch ladder fast whilst he remained a Constable, watching the ladder crumble every time he tried stepping on the first rung. And, all these years, CJ’s been the closest he’s had to a family. But the man can drive you nuts sometimes!

Kumar sighed, “I don’t have a choice, do I? We are going to the site tonight?”

CJ smiled.

“You read my mind, brother!”

Outside, it had began to pour, causing steam to rise from last night's wrecks. A wet smack and a slithering sound was drowned by the drops on the road and mud. An inquisitive strand investigated the edges of the drill hole before hurling a muddy lighter to the street.

The mamak stall offered a smug, albeit smoky, shelter from the driving rain. Two soaked men sat opposite each other sipping coffee and smoking cheap cigarettes.

"Boss, it doesn't look like the rain is going to stop," said Kumar.

"And?" asked CJ.

Kumar grinned and said, "Maybe we should just go back?"

CJ turned at stared through the rain.

"No, we should wait for it to stop," he said, nodding at a drill across the road, “That’s the only working drill left. Whoever has been tampering with them is probably waiting for the rain to stop.”

He lit another cigarette and took a deep drag. It was someone who was protesting against the highway being built there. He was sure of it, even if, deep down, he knew murders or kidnapping over something like a strip of bitumen never actually occurred, except maybe in gangster movies.

“It could have been one of the gangs from KD,” said Kumar, reading his boss’s face.

CJ said nothing, just a certain extent of shame rose that Kumar knew so much about his ambition to, one day, be able to bust a kingpin.

“That’s one of my guesses. Maybe they were demanding protection money.”

Not likely, Kumar thought. The gangs were juvenile, harassing liquor stores and food stalls. The highway construction company was a little above their extortion rank. But he kept his thoughts to himself. Anything that would keep his friend off the bottle was fine with Kumar.

In any case, he was very, very sure it had something to do with settlements. He mumbled a prayer and tapped CJ’s shoulder.

“Let’s take a ride down to the kampung and look around,” Kumar said.

CJ scowled at him but shrugged. The rain wasn't showing any signs of letting up. At least if he agreed, the trip down would put Kumar’s spirit fantasy to rest .

Three days earlier, a couple from the settlement had lodged a tearful report at the beat post; two of their children were missing. The kids had been playing in the puddles on the football field behind the school. This was verified when one of the officers questioned the school caretaker.

He had chided them but as most pre-teens do, they had ignored him and splashed around well into dusk. It was way past dinner time when the father, having had a bad day at work at the meat sorting section in the local market, came looking for them. He roughed up the caretaker, suspecting him as most would suspect a lone old man in charge of schools at night, but only found their school bags in the mud when they went out to the edge of the forest bordering the field. The father, in the confusion that neither their bodies nor other evidences had presented themselves, had taken out his anger on the old man, leaving him with a broken nose and a stooped limp. He had then taken off to fetch his wife from the construction’s concrete mixing section, before heading to the beat base to make the tearful report.

The junction down by the school was deserted. That was expected, thought CJ. It would have been unusual to have people milling about the pisang goreng stalls whilst getting drenched, unless of course the place was jammed with traffic and commuters needed respite from the rain. But the stall was closed and it was a long weekend. The smouldering remains of a wood stove offered a little bit of warmth in the cold October shower. No, correct that to downpour.

CJ wondered why the stove was warm when the shop should have been closed that day. He poked the ashes with a stick, turning the smouldering embers around. He wasn't sure he wanted to find anything illegal being cooked over the stove but he, being the bastard he was, was still trying to find out.

Kumar was fumbling about in one of the desk drawers that served as a cashier counter.

“Found any missing kids in there?” CJ’s snide remark drew a shrug.

Kumar was always looking into things, especially things that were not his own. Like other people’s wallets during a roadblock or the contents of the laundry operator’s coin pouch.

"Nope. Did you find any in the stove?"

CJ grunted and grinned, “You know me and my twisted mind. They might have been grilling weed in a can.”

“Yes, it tastes better with some batter, I heard,” Kumar snorted.

“I’m going over to the flats,” CJ said. “Why don’t you wait here and see if any of the usual junkies pass by?”

“What? In this rain?” Kumar asked. “They’re only out and about when it’s darker and no one can smell them.”

CJ walked out, pulling the hood over his head, “It’s getting dark and the rain will wash away some of the stink. They’ll be here, and I want you to question them.”

Kumar imitated a bad version of the grunt. CJ was right. It was raining and junkies are the only good pickings around. He jingled the coins in his pocket. And he needed to buy dinner later, so there was no point arguing with CJ. Kumar squatted and began to rummage the bottom shelves.

The rain began to pour in earnest, in deference to the fact that it just did the same ten minutes before.

Lingesvaran S: "Working as a technical project manager during the day, and donning the hopeful author cape and mask and night. Short fictions published, but never followed up on, with high hopes of publishing the two full length novels that keep refusing to cooperate."

#serial #fiction #malaysian literature #malaysian fiction #lingesvaran s #trees of 8/2

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enchantedbyhiddles · 7 years

Note

Not at all! I understand our country was founded on violent revolution. However, as you said, it was a last resort (: I do not think America's situation is so dire to necessitate violent revolution, however, and I doubt it will ever become so dire in this modern day and age. I truly believe that change can be facilitated through peaceful means such as nonviolent marches, peace talks, and stand-ins (Like Standing Rock! Woohoo!) [continued]

very long from me and anon therefore behind a cut :)

As for condoning what Trump stands for… I suppose, by voting for him,I technically did. However, that’s not the way I see it. I highly doubt thatviolence against PEACEFUL protestors will be condoned by anyone, even Trump;and I believe the police should not be afraid to deal with violent protestors,if they pose a threat to themselves or others. With Planned Parenthood, itwould not be abolished but defunded – making abortions more expensive, yes,but not impossible to have.

However, I vehemently oppose the defunding of Planned Parenthood. Ithink something many liberals forget is that, just like liberals themselves,conservatives do not all have the same mindset. It’s a spectrum ofpolitical belief. I am very, very socially liberal and I would be deeplydisappointed if Trump repealed any of the social reforms that President Obamaput into place – barring the ACA, which I oppose for numerous reasons that Ican’t squeeze into an ask, haha.

I do not support his rhetoric regarding Islam either; I think it’s abeautiful religion with a rich history. So, why did I vote for him? Ultimately,because the other issues are more important to me than social issues. Some maycall that selfish. Others may call it realistic. The economy, foreign affairs,jobs, illegal immigration, the national debt… Those are the most important tome and on those, I align with the Republican Party. I want America to be aplace that prospers for years to come.

I hate that I have to choose. Most young Republicans, I’ve found, aresocially liberal and are looking forward to the day when the stupid old onesdie out (myself included, though I’m registered independent). I don’t wantanyone to lose their rights, nor do I want to lose mine myself (I’m a woman!)But I have to put the issues closest to my own heart first and voteaccordingly, then hope that the rest aligns itself on the right side ofhistory.

First of all I have to apologise if this reply is anincoherent mess. I’m having a bit of a stressful day and my thoughts are notcompletely focussed on this. I’m sorry.

Okay, at least on revolutions we agree. ;) I don’t think we are at thatpoint either, where violent protest isthe last resort. I’m just not ruling it out at this point that thingsmight lead to this. That was the good part, thefollowing will be not so nice. I don’t want to be disrespectful towards you,but I will criticise what you did and why I think it is wrong.

I hate to say this, but yes you are utterly selfish,ignorant, and very naïve. You are nice and respectful to me and I do appreciateit, but that doesn’t change that I strongly disagree with most of what yousaid.

You ignored everything Trump said he wants to do, youignored everything others said he will do. All in favour of your idea that hewill make things better for you.

“I might be condoning him, but that’s not how I see it”,is lying to yourself. By voting for him you do condone it and there’s no excusefor that. You might not have made this your priority or based your decision onthis, but you aligned yourself with hate crimes and hate speech againstminorities. You support sexism and racism.

You also lied to yourself by wilfully ignoring all thepieces written about why Trump is a threat and why he has nothing to say aboutany political program he might have. Respectable news sources gave in-depthsthought pieces on international trade agreements, on immigration, economicalprogress, etc. Trump had nothing good to say about any of it. You made up inyour head a world where Trump brings you good things and ignored everythingthat showed signs to the contrary. You based your hopes on a candidate, who gaveyou nothing to justify this hope.

You might be that ignorant to blend it out, but socialissues are a main part of any legislation. Here in Europe (and that’s a matterof perspective and no judgement) we put the social parts above everything else,because even if the results might be not that different, the so called “Solidargemeinschaft”(rougly translated to solidary group) is a centrepiece of our governments. Thisleads to our approach to healthcare, retirement systems, social benefits,education, etc. I know that it is different in the USA, but I can’t wrap myhead around it. The idea that anyone would put other people’s rights at riskfor the mere hope of maybe a bit more money is totally alien to me.

I’m not familiar with all the details of the ACA, fromwhat I heard it is a good idea which wasn’t that good in execution. I canunderstand it if a person has issues with a certain program or law and hasthought about it.

To think that social issues will somehow evaporateinto thin air and solve itself doesn’t happen. It hasn’t ever happened and itwon’t ever happen. People don’t give up privileges and power without being challenged.It doesn’t have to be a revolution. Often people will help to change if theyare decent people and injustices are pointed out to them. That’s at least ahope I can support. But Trump has repeatedly stated that he’ll work against it.That he’ll reduce liberties and rights. Another issue where you totally ignoredwhat Trump said, because you are somehow believing in a fairytale of a greaterAmerica.

About violence against peaceful protesters: Trump hasalready condoned it and enforced it multiple times. During his rally a blackman was beaten for chanting “Black Lives Matter” and Trump said about it “Heshouted and was obnoxious. Maybe heshould have been roughed up”. There were other incidentswhere he simply said that if his supporters beat up people they are simply “passionate”.Screaming and shouting are peaceful protests.

Planned Parenthood is nicely condensed to be about abortion rights,which is not what it is about as I understand it. The biggerthreat is that another form of free health care got abolished. Defunding isclose to being abolished if an organisation needs money to function. How longdo you think they can work without the financial means? Again as a European itis strange to think that such a basic need is depending on donations by thepublic, because the state refuses to do so.

What is highly naïve is that you said you based yourvoting on his ideas of economic and foreign affairs. It is naïve at best,because he repeatedly said nothing on this. When asked he said he’d saynothing. So based on which of his plans did you base your opinion?

You are a Repuplican, which is obviously nothing I myself identify with in any way, but I can accept that as a political opinion, even though I find more than a few things highly problematic. Yet even leading republican party members said that Trump posed a threat to all those ideals, especially because he had absolutely no plan or ideas he voiced to anyone. All he ever said was hate speech and ignorant remarks towards minorities and that he would make America great again. He didn’t back it up with anything. No plan, no idea. He avoided every critical question about his programme and showed an incredibly lack of knowledge about basic ideas of international trade and organisations (He gave an interview last week for the first time about his international politics and every sentence was either “he won’t tell” or “he won’t go into detail” or the interviewer had to correct him, because he lied or said something wrong.) So everyone who fell for that is utterly selfish, ignorant, and naïve at best, because they put their hope on a hate monger.

We see now that his economy politics he set in motionwill lead to a huge rise in national debt. The first thing he did was to pullout of international treaties. The results of that are open, so this mightbring advantages to the US economics. Another thing he did is to propose toreduce the company taxes drastically. Sounds great for rich people, but whilethis probably will increase prosperity in short, long term this leads to a hugedebt that will cripple the USA in the future. Trump’s first act as a presidentwas to give away billions of dollars to rich people. This money is to be madein different places or it leads to less spending of the state, which will harmall state causes. Including funding of police forces, benefits, funding ofstate organisations, etc.

One of the only detailed plans he ever revealed wasthat he’d built a wall to Mexico. This wall will be funded with American taxmoney. The wall is revealed to be a stupid idea anyway, as it won’t decreaseillegal immigration, but will cost a lot of money. Your money. How is thathelping any?

All in all you voted for a misogynist, racist, hate monger and liar, because you don’t give a damn about other people and believe the liar when he said he’d make America great again, based on nothing.

I hope for you that you are rich, because otherwiseyou will suffer from a Trump presidency. You might have hoped for something better,but you fell for a con artist that only wants to make rich people richer andthe price is to be paid by the less fortunate and minorities.

I also hope that you’ll learn from this and will do better in the future. You say you hope for a more liberal Republican party that incorporates your ideals about rights for women and minorities. Maybe that is something you can work towards to, before it is too late. If you are against any Trump’s laws you have to oppose them even and especially since you are in his party. You have to use your voice or your hopes will be shattered.

Again I’m sorry for this incoherent mess. I appreciateyour respectful messages, even if I have to disagree on nearly everything.

#Anonymous #wtf trump

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blkgrlsblogtoo-blog · 7 years

Text

March To End Rape Culture

TW// Mention of r*pe:

Yesterday I attended the March To End Rape Culture in Philadelphia down in Thomas Paine Plaza. This is the second march I have ever attended and I have got to admit I did not think I could feel more empowered and called to action after attending the Women's March in DC last year but I was wrong. This march was filled with emotion and raw energy from everyone who was present. The speakers, some who are survivors of sexual assault gave such brave and empowering speeches and poems. It was so inspiring seeing how these women were able to overcome these difficult times in their life and turn their pain into action to help other women going through similar events in their lives. Yesterday I had the privilege of speaking to a woman about her life and the trauma she has experienced. She explained to me that she was drinking alcohol by the age of nine and addicted to drugs by the age of 15. She had been raped five times in her life but could only clearly recall two of the times. She started to tell me a story about her best friend and how one night while she was living in New York her and her best friend was walking and a man pulled his car to the side of the road threatened her and then through her best friend into his trunk and drove off. When she went to the police station to report that her best friend had been abducted and she had been threatened, the police told her that they could not really help her because the man was probably her "best friends pimp". Till this day this woman (who will go unnamed for privacy purposes) has not seen or heard from her best friend. She told me " I just pray wherever she is, she's safe". Mid-way through her story I had to put my sunglasses on because I began to cry. These are the kind of stories that I do not want to hear but I know are necessary for me to here in order to help to accomplish the goal of Ending Rape Culture. Although she has experienced so many things in her life that would be a good enough reason for her to give up, she hasn't. She now hosts and organizes events for women and young girls that have gone through similar situations and helps them overcome it. I will forever hold on to this woman's story, her resilience and her passion to want to help others.

Unfortunately, along with all of the beautiful speeches given and all of the love that was shared, there was the presence of hate as well. A counter protest was taking place right behind the location of the MTERC rally and they were holding signs that read "women belong in the kitchen", "you promote rape'', "whores go to hell" etc. While they were displaying such messages they were also holding up signs that had bible verses on them as well... hilarious right? LOL! I am not religious a but I know for certain that what I saw yesterday was not Christianity. I would like to believe that those people had nothing better to do and just thought they'd kill some time by being a pain in the ass but in reality, I know that there are people who believe and feel the things their signs said. Fortunately, there are hundreds of men and women who are not going to tolerate the bullshit. While the rally was going on these counter-protesters began to scream and raise their voices as survivors were giving their speeches. A group of women formed a human wall around these protesters and they began singing songs and hugging each other and showing compassion instead of hate. This is how you change the world- you will always attract more bees with honey than you will with water and although these counter protestors might have dismissed the kindness and love that was being shown by the MTERC protesters, I know that it greatly affected the people around them in a positive way.

Since I have posted pictures from the march on my personal Instagram and my public blog Instagram I have been getting a lot of mixed reactions. For the most part a lot of my followers have liked and commented positive things onto my post but last night two people made comments that I could not help but to ignore. One anti-feminist Instagram page commented " This is so dumb, I can't" and a WWE wrestling fan page commented "fuck you bitch" LMAO! I am trying to teach myself to not internalize things but also learning to allow myself to confront situations that bother me without doing it in a way that just perpetuates more anger and frustration. One thing I've definitely learned from having a blog and using social media in the volume that I do is that it is hard. People are mean, people are ignorant and people will say a lot more over the comfort of a keyboard than they'd ever dare say face to face. I acknowledge and applaud myself for being able to react the way that I react to counter protests and arguments that I have come across on social media because just two years ago I would have just attacked and badgered people who do not agree with me or choose to call me a "bitch" or tell me to "go fuck myself". I've discovered that learning to deal with situations like this and deciding when to walk away from situations like this, is an extraordinary act of self-love/care and a necessary one.

For those of you who feel that rape culture and sexual assault is not your problem or does not affect you here are some statistics of the Rates of Sexual Assault Against Women in the US:

All Women: 17.6%

Latina Women: 14.6%

White Women: 17.7%

Black Women: 18.8%

Asian Pacific Islander Women: 6.8%

American Indian Women: 34.1%

Mixed Race Women: 24.4%

Sexual Assault is intersectional.

*To learn more about sexual assault and statistics amongst demographics in the united states visit https://www.rainn.org/statistics/victims-sexual-violence for more information. The only way to progress and attempt to make a change is if we first educate ourselves.*

Love, J

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