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angelnumber27 · 1 year

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The Tyre Nichols Memorial Fund

Tyre Nichols was loved by his community and was known to be gentle, kind, and joyful. He loved skating and was originally from the Bay Area in California. He was known as someone “you know when he comes through the door he wants to give you a hug” and that “he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“He had never been in trouble with the law, not even a parking ticket. He was an honest man, a wonderful son, and kind to everyone. He was quirky and true to himself, and his loss will be felt nationally.”

Btw, the link includes a photo of graphic injuries. View with discretion.

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thatsleepymermaid · 1 year

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Quick post on what's happening in Atlanta right now

So there's this beautiful trail in Atlanta called the South River Forest Trail. As we all know, Atlanta Georgia is renowned for their tree cover and historic forests.

The City of Atlanta and corporations like Delta, AT&T and Amazon are funding a massive police training center that will destroy the forest.

Dubbed ‘cop city’ by many protesters, this will cost about $90 million to build. This will be used to further militarize Atlanta’s police leading to more incidents of police brutality in the city.

On January 18th indigenous activist Manuel “Tortuguita” Teran was shot and killed by the police for defending this historic forest from destruction. Their reason? “He did not comply” (Tort went by They/them/it but report said “he”). Many protests have been going on in Atlanta to defend this forest.

Since Tortuguita's death, the situation has quickly deteriorated

This forest is very dear to me but I am unable to physically protest at the moment, so I am handing this off to Tumblr to spread awareness. Rebloging this may help this tragedy become part of national news instead of just an Atlanta problem.

Donation and petition links to stop cop city

https://www.gofundme.com/f/stoptheswap2020

https://act.colorofchange.org/sign/no-cop-city-atl/

https://defendtheatlantaforest.org/solidarity

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octopustoaster · 10 months

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This disability pride month remember that if you want to support disabled people you also must support the abolition of the police and prisons.

I'm coming at this from a psychotic point of view and an American point of view, because that is what I know, but I'm sure this goes just as much for those with other disabilities.

If you see someone having a mental health episode, do not call the police. 27% of police killings are people with mental health issues, and somewhere between 33% and 50% of police violence is against disabled people.

Pleading guilty by insanity is often worse than going to prison, and between 25% and 40% of people will mental illness will go to prison at some point in their life. 8% of prisoners have a conviction that is directly attributed to their psychosis.

Disability is criminalized, and disabled people die every day because of it. The police are not our friends, and prisons have replaced the mental health infrastructure the US used to have. If you want to support disabled people, understand that these systems are killing us.

#disability #disability pride month #schizophrenia #tw police violence

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neathyingenue · 12 days

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Live Silvia reaction of when Brett Heroux (of @thedandy-detective) told her about getting beat up by cops

transcription bc it's illegible:

Brett: "--And then the constable landed one but it's fine. I'm fiiiiine"* *hasn't slept in 36 hours

Silvia: GIVE ME NAMES. ADDRESSES. THAT WRETCHED EXCUSE FOR A MAN, NAY THAT WORM SHALL NEVER AGAIN SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY WHILE I DRAW BREATH* *these are empty threats

#as long as my workplace does not curtail my access to ballpoint pens and index cards i cannot be stopped #tw police violence #(mentioned not shown but still)#silvia salcedo #brett heroux #notecard doodles

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earthstellar · 6 months

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More Thoughts on Prowl in Earthspark

I think it would be fun if Prowl has a little bit of a tough time integrating with the Terran Team, which I talked about previously in another post

Like, if it starts out rough, understandable-- And then the "lesson" for the intended audience (kids) can be something along the lines of learning how to get along with others that may be different from yourself, how to integrate into a different culture by trying to make friends and being open to learning, how to meet people halfway when you might be personally hesitant, etc.

But I have some more thoughts...

Real World Concerns: ACAB Still Applies

Keeping in mind that Prowl's a cop and there are some real world implications of that which are even more highlighted as the Maltos are a non-white family who live in the USA, I can understand the concerns I've seen some people have about bringing a "tough cop" type of character into a show that has heavy emphasis on diversity and reflecting that diversity fairly realistically.

I've been wrongfully detained back when I was a teenager and was taken across a state border then had to sleep in a cell overnight thanks to the NYPD myself as a trans person, which happened only four weeks after my black partner at the time was harassed by a police officer when a cop straight up just walked into my dad's house with no warrant because apparently a black person and a trans person gardening together is "suspicious behaviour".

My dad's house is in Pennsylvania, which is where Earthspark takes place. Me and my loved ones have been harassed by cops that are quite literally the actual cops you'd see in Earthspark, in Witwicky. Same police department/region in Pennsylvania, given their proximity to actual Pennsylvanian locations in the show.

So I know these fears well and I understand-- Nobody has a good experience with the American police. Every interaction is terrifying, and those of us in any minority group are far more likely to have experiences like this having never committed any crime or wrongdoing at all. Seeing any cop, even a fictional one, can trigger some bad memories or prior trauma for a lot of us, and it might be hard for them to work around.

I'm thinking that's part of why they've changed his alt-mode, from what we can tell from the toy photos.

Earthspark Handles Real World Issues Fairly Well: Writing with Sensitivity

At the same time, the themes of the show are fundamentally family, friends, learning, growing, and teamwork, with some emphasis on developing emotional intelligence and social/cultural awareness.

It's important to remember that Prowl is a Cybertronian cop who took a cop car alt-mode back in the G1 days because it was simply what fit his own role best and made for the most effective cover while on Earth-- He may not be working with local human police forces, but if he is, we'll see how the show handles that.

I think it's notable that they've changed up Prowl's alt-mode design here, despite having shown him in his police vehicle alt-mode in the G1 flashback sequence. You don't see "POLICE" written across his doorwings, these days. They're not selling him as a "cop car toy" anymore, which I think most of us can agree is a good thing.

I think Prowl absolutely has a place in Earthspark, and it'll be interesting to see how they utilise his character-- For all we know, it'll be a totally unique take on the character unlike any specific prior iteration of him, which would also be interesting!

But I do think that they know they have to be careful with introducing a cop character. They've handled subjects like xenophobia in Earthspark very tactfully in a way that suits the intended audience of children, and hopefully they continue to use the same tact when interpreting Prowl's character for this same audience, given that he's a cop and there are implications to cop characters in general that are going to lead a lot of people to be a little less forgiving and a little more suspicious of him.

More Conjecture/Thinking Out Loud, Since All We Have is a Photo of a Toy At This Point

That having been said, almost no story can happen without a hero's journey in some shape or form, and it would be interesting to see Prowl have some initial difficulty dealing with the Terrans and humans in general (or something similar that might cause some level of conflict) to be resolved as time goes on.

It would be interesting if the show touches on Prowl being a cop and how American kids realistically react to that.

I was always taught to never speak to a cop and how to do so very carefully if I ever absolutely had to etc. when I was a kid, and I'm sure the Maltos have had that same conversation with their children. It's a safety issue; Unfortunately, most American kids get "the cop talk" pretty early.

Maybe Prowl shows up and Robby immediately grabs Mo to get her behind him and he tells his Terran siblings to "let him do the talking", since he's the oldest one and a little more aware of the risk that police officers can present. Since Mo is usually outgoing, and she might be more quiet here because she would understand the potential risk whenever cops are involved, the Terrans would take the hint and be wary of Prowl.

Or perhaps Prowl is introduced as an "enforcer" by Optimus, and when the kids ask what that means, Optimus translates it as "police officer", which might be what causes Robby and Mo to react a little negatively/suspiciously to Prowl. So it wouldn't be as immediate of a reaction, but once they find out he's a cop, they react appropriately-- With caution.

Which might serve to alienate him a bit, as he wouldn't understand why they were just outgoing and friendly and now they're suddenly not-- From Prowl's point of view, he might not fully understand their reaction.

If he'd been working on trying to investigate the bot fighting rings etc., then he'd be aware of the general public's xenophobia towards Cybertronians and how that can manifest as real violence, and might think the kids were being biased against him. Which might be worsened by the fact that to him, as far as he knows, they evidently don't like enforcers specifically-- Which may even lead him to overthink it, as he is technically designed to do in most continuities, and he might assume their anxiety around him comes from some kind of criminal history on their part.

This could be handled partially comedically, as the audience knows the kids are good and haven't done anything wrong (and this would also introduce Prowl's capabilities as an investigative officer while framing him as a "silly adult bewildered by kids just being kids" for the younger viewers)-- -But it needs to be treated respectfully and with reasonable seriousness as well.

This type of assumed guilt is often what leads to wrongful arrest, miscarriage of justice, and serious abuse from actual police. There is a real world body count for this exact kind of assumption, and these assumptions are often based in racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.

And this is a kid's show, so I don't think they'll go too deep-- But I do think they'll address the "cop in the room" in some kind of way.

There could be some serious misunderstandings that go both ways, as the kids might then interpret any upset from Prowl as being inherently hostile.

It would take work to get them to trust him, and Prowl would need to come to understand why being an enforcer in this context is something that registers as a threat to the Maltos and by proxy the Terrans as well-- Who haven't had good experiences with authority figures either, given the whole GHOST situation.

And given that he might not start out too enthused about the situation altogether (we don't know how he might be coping with being forced to live on Earth), it might be interesting if they take this approach (or a similar one) to introducing Prowl.

Keeping in mind this is a show for kids, and you don't want kids to implicitly trust cops. In America especially, that's just not a safe lesson to teach.

So it would be hard for them to pull something like this off, in a way that both 1) solidifies that cops can't be safely trusted and also 2) Prowl is good not because he's a cop, but because his genuine interests are to protect and serve in his own way, and it's not just some kind of fake creed that he doesn't follow like every other cop.

But like I said, you can't teach kids that cops are good. So it'll be interesting to see how they handle his role as "enforcer".

He might be misguided sometimes, or he might need some fine-tuning, but Prowl shouldn't be directly malicious or intentionally mean to the kids. Maybe he's accidentally rude, or doesn't understand how he comes across to others (especially humans/the Terrans). Maybe he's having a hard time being on Earth, and it shows in his behaviour or demeanour.

But he can learn, and adapt as best he can over time. The show is about learning and growing with each other.

I Don't Think He'll Dislike the Kids Too Much: Teaching Time with Prowl

It'll be interesting to see how Prowl gets along with the kids, but I do think he eventually will, at least to some degree.

I don't think Prowl is a child-hater. I think he might need time to acclimate and socialise a little more effectively and understand a little more. And the kids might need the same, when it comes to Prowl.

I can't see him as being mean to them, not once he realises the Terrans are essentially sparklings and the human kids develop and grow on a totally different scale. We don't know what interactions Prowl might have with humans in general, or how experienced he is with younglings of any kind.

There might be a learning process, or Prowl might even take up helping to tutor the kids a bit-- He could help teach them investigative techniques, or logical problem solving, or how to evaluate complex situations (like calculating battle outcomes and assessing threats in the field-- a safety lesson as much as anything else). Things along those lines.

We've already seen the kids learn from various adults, so why not Prowl too?

I can see him wanting to protect them and do what he can to help them, but he might not be a super-involved parent-type, and that's totally fine.

He would likely make for a strict but effective teacher, using his skills of observation to notice when the kids need some extra assistance or would benefit from a different approach.

He might also struggle to teach at first; Maybe he attempts to treat it like an enforcer academy, which the kids might not respond well to. Bumblebee could provide some input to help Prowl adjust his approach, as he has the most experience with training them so far.

He Might Not Be a Cop at All

Maybe he's not an enforcer at all anymore, in this continuity.

Maybe he's struggling to find an identity for himself after realising the enforcement system on Cybertron was corrupt (as Megatron in Earthspark has given us some hints that the background setup to the war might be similar to IDW 1 in some regards), and after finding Earth's police are no better, he's at a loss for how to make himself useful.

He could possibly be working as a kind of private investigator, carrying out missions assigned to him by Optimus. He doesn't wear the GHOST badge, so it doesn't seem like he's been working with them somewhere this whole time.

Part of any irritation from him might be, essentially, an identity crisis. What does he do now, and how does he do it, with almost no resources and very few Cybertronians left to collaborate with? Does he even want to collaborate with anyone at all, at this point?

He might be more of a solo actor in Earthspark, off doing his own thing. With or without missions assigned from Optimus.

But he does still wear the Autobrand, which is interesting if this is the case.

More Disability Representation: Prowl is Essentially Neurodivergent With a Syncope Disorder

He might not be too good at socialising, but this shouldn't be taken as a sign of being a "mean cop"-- Prowl is canonically neurodivergent in some continuities (owing to his unique tactical/statistical processing, he is also prone to crashes), and any social problems he's depicted with are at least in part a result of his thought processes and perception of things being fundamentally different.

It would be interesting if they brought this aspect of his character back for this iteration of Prowl; Maybe he sees the Terrans for the first time and his processor struggles to understand what's going on and what they are at first, and it might trigger a crash.

Of course, the kids would react like how most kids do; Sort of panicked and worried that it's their fault somehow. Prowl could provide some situations that would be a good opportunity to teach kids a little more about disability and provide further representation for any neurodivergent kids watching the show, which would be great! And a "crash" could be comparable to anything from some types of seizures to syncope disorders to narcolepsy etc.-- Any health condition where fainting or collapse might occur.

We rarely see syncope etc. disorders portrayed in media, let alone kid shows, so it would be great to see in Earthspark as an opportunity for both inclusion for disabled audiences and education on disability for non-disabled audiences.

It would be interesting if a "crash" were portrayed somewhat realistically, no immediate recovery, maybe some dizziness, lingering fuel tank upset, maybe he even sustains some damage from falling over. It might take him a bit to fully reboot. He might regularly need to be a little more careful, to avoid processor loops or logic system issues that could lead to a crash.

Maybe he has a crash at a critical moment, and is out of commission for a battle or situation where he could have been helpful. If the kids are lukewarm towards him at this point, maybe seeing him laid out on a berth still recovering after they return from the fight would encourage them to step up and reassure him that he's not any less capable-- They would understand.

They've likely seen their mother struggle now and then on days where the phantom limb nerve pain is too much for her to go on that hike they had planned, or days where the prosthetic just isn't the vibe so she goes without and gets around the house a little differently on those days, or maybe even days where they see Dot looking at her prosthetic with a little sigh, and that's just how it is. Not every day is a feeling good day, some days the prosthetic just isn't wanted, some days the prosthetic is harder to put on than others. Disability is variable, and how people deal with disability fluctuates.

The kids would be good about understanding that Prowl has "those kind of days" too.

The show's not about Prowl-- There is an ensemble cast and plot/storylines to progress. But it would be a nice little scene if they want to do a one-off bit about this, that could also serve to show that Prowl, as hard-ass as he might come across, does actually have some vulnerabilities.

It could be the thing that encourages the kids to at least try to work with him, if they have any initial hesitancy-- Especially following their experiences with Robbie's illness previously.

If the kids might think Prowl's demeanour is a little off-putting because he's not as outwardly emotive, might be more literal than others, etc., maybe one of the other adult bots could help explain to them that Prowl's processor just works differently, and that he struggles with being social. The kids would likely be understanding of this, and it would be a nice parallel to teaching abled kids how to interact with autistic peers, while also making Prowl relatable to autistic kids watching the show.

(This would also provide a potential opportunity for a medic character to be introduced... I'm just saying. We all want Ratchet to show up, lmao.)

Earthspark is good about disability representation so far, and it would be nice to see that it's not just humans who can be disabled.

----

Anyway, yes, there's a lot of potential for Prowl in Earthspark, but it will have to be handled with tact, which I think the writers have proven themselves to be pretty capable of so far.

So, we'll see! We have no information right now aside from the toy photos, but the hype is real, and it will be interesting to see how they bring Prowl into the show and what, exactly, he'll be doing.

#tfe prowl #earthspark spoilers #long post #just thinkin'#tw police mention #tw police violence #tagging this stuff just in case #maccadams #maccadam #disability in media

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silvermoon424 · 1 year

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Please don't ignore this: but I hope you heard about the recent case of the death of Lisa Edwards. It happened just a few days ago and shows how fucked up America is when it comes to health insurance and the police. You have to watch the video. It is horrific.

I have not heard about this case, but after getting caught up: holy fucking shit.

For anyone who also didn't know, Lisa Edwards was a 60-year-old woman who was discharged from Fort Sanders Regional Medical Center (I feel it's important to name and shame this hospital) on February 5 of this year. Lisa refused to leave because she still felt as if she were in a medical emergency. The hospital staff ended up calling the cops on her for "trespassing."

As the cops tried to arrest her, Lisa repeatedly asked for help and said she felt like she was going to die. All the while the cops kept telling her that they didn't believe her. Eventually, Lisa had a stroke and passed away in the back of a police car.

Not only are the cops at fault here, I think Lisa's family should definitely sue the hospital. She should have never been discharged, and the cops should have never been called. So many people fucked up here; this woman was clearly having a life-threatening medical emergency and she was treated so callously by everyone involved. It won't bring her back, but I really hope her family sues the shit out of everyone involved to make an example. I truly hope they'll eventually find peace, nobody should ever have to go through this.

#tw police brutality #tw police violence #fuck the us healthcare system

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frogwhispererer · 2 months

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still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that the NSW POLICE COMMISSIONER actually said ‘Haters gonna hate’ in response to genuine valid criticism to the mishandling of the case where 2 gay men were murdered by a police officer (also a gay man) with a police issued gun. [read more]

like. in what fucking world did she think that was an okay thing to say?? and now she’s pushed the sydney mardi gras board to let the nsw cops march in the parade (not in uniform). even the federal police read the room and decided to not march.

the more i see on the whole thing the clearer the fuckups become.

#tw police violence #nsw police #acab #australia

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and-stir-the-stars · 7 months

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Sorry for asking really, but I read in one of your posts that Michael almost died when he was homeless?? Do you have more info about that? I'm so hooked on this au!! It's so good!!

most of the times were just, like, generic reasons that you'd associate with homelessness, I guess. Before he started frequenting runaway and homeless shelters, he had a hard time finding food and water. Even when he found these things, it was even harder to find food and water that was SAFE to consume. Dehydration and starvation are ofc big dangers for him during this time.

Even when he starts going to shelters, Mike prefers to be out on his own, so he wouldn't stay at the shelters for very long but would head out into the streets on his own. Until one of the workers at these shelters gifts Michael with an old vw bus and teaches Mike how to drive, Mike didn't have a safe, warm, dry place to rest his head at night, away from other people and out of the harsh elements.

The combination of unsafe food and water, malnutrition, and being exposed to harsh weather meant that Mike getting sick wasn't an unusual occurrence. There were many times when Mike got so sick, he was sure he was going to die.

And then there were the people. In my admittedly limited understanding, most of the time, homeless people tend to be a compassionate, well-knit community; they tend to help each other out, share what they have with others in need even when they don't have enough themselves, don't take more than they need. But that's in general. There's been times where other people on the streets have tried to take by force resources that homeless Mike has, times when these people put him in danger.

There's also been times when Mike was harrassed by police, sometimes police got violent with him. Some of these moments were when Mike got caught shoplifting to survive (tho sometimes, Mike had money to pay for things, but bc his clothes and skin were dirty and torn, people assumed that he was just stealing), but some were moments when Mike was doing nothing but EXISTING: huddled up under the awning of a shop entrance to stay out of the rain, sleeping in an alley or on a bench and they decided he was being a public nuisance/indecent, sleeping in his vw bus when they told him he's not allowed to be parked there overnight.

Sometimes Mike would get thrown in a cell at night, and Mike just has the type of personality that makes it very very easy for him to make enemies. Telling the wrong kind of joke, getting angry at people in charge, mot trusting authority and taking it out on them/others, resisting when people try telling him what to do. Mike rarely made it out these nights without bruises and blood.

There's also awful people in the world who purposely hurt homeless people, just because they can, because they know nobody cares about the homeless, especially not the police.

Mike has woken up sometimes to these kinds of people "pranking" him: stealing his shoes and blanket as a "joke", kicking him, pickpocketing him. Unfortunately, sometimes people get more violent than that. Mike has heard a lot of horror stories like that during his time on the streets, about people like him being beaten or abducted or killed.

When a group of younger teens wouldn't stop throwing things at him for a laugh, Mike got himself in trouble one day when he tried FORCING them to stop. No one believed or cared about his side of the story.

#tw homelessness #tw starvation #tw police violence #saffron pawn au #All of this is just general stuff bc i haven't thought too much abt his time when he was homeless

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poll-ventures · 1 year

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Perdition 1.5

< >

Noel had replaced her phone, and retrained the rifle on me. A rush of something electric subsided as the moment passed. I wriggled my hands in my gloves. My choice had been made.

Had I really been about to jump her? The gun had still been pointing at me, although her finger had left the trigger.

Now it was stuck firmly in place, Noel’s Saint Valentine’s Day manicure facing me as her index finger hung heavy on the metal trigger.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, Noel,” I said, catching my breath from shouting.

“How about the truth,” she stated firmly, her father’s accent heavy in her voice.

“I don’t remember any of it. I mean it.” The image of her father standing in front of my door still screamed at me from the inside of my mind, demanding to be further examined, for as long as it took to prove it wrong. “Can you just, walk me through what happened to your dad? Maybe it would help.”

“You already know,” she cried, croaking out a sob. “Don’t you?”

Hands still raised, I shook my head slowly, keeping my face a stolid mask. “No. All the police told me was that you were missing. I didn’t hear anything about your dad. That’s the truth,” I pleaded.

“You talked to the cops and still came out here, when you knew they were looking for me?” Her tears weren’t even dry, but now she was almost laughing. “Gee, for a teacher you’re awfully stupid.”

I burned with quiet annoyance, and breathed it out slowly. “I came here to help you. Even though the cop told me not to, because I thought you were in trouble.” It’s not my fault you lied, I didn’t say.

“Well, I had to get you out here somehow,” she said defensively. Sensing a weakness, I thought to pounce. No. Slow, and calmly. There was still a rifle being pointed at my head.

“Just talk me through what happened, why you ran out here in the first place.” She looked at me suspiciously, shifting on top of the dead basswood tree. “I won’t tell anybody.”

“Jesus,” she swore, then stepped backward off the trunk. “You’re still asking, even when I promise to kill you for lying.” She had calmed down too, and took a deep breath as she crouched, her pijamas muffling the thumps of her knees on the forest floor.

I watched her carefully as she hunkered down against the fallen tree, rifle held against the trunk, now aiming at my chest.

That was when the woodpecker chose to leave in flight. He was a thin, red-headed bird, starkly visible against the blue sky, framed by the leafless branches of the trees.

He chirped above Noel and I, pecked at a withered branch before unfurling his wings and slapping hard into the air. He freed one brown tail feather, and we watched it gracefully see-saw down, landing in the roots between us.

We both stared at the feather, then looked back towards each other. Eyes locked on the tiny feather, she began.

“He was… I wanna say kidnapped, but he’s not a kid. The power to the whole house was cut.” She sighed, still staring down at the lonely chocolate feather. “No idea how the alarm hadn’t tripped, they said.” She took another breath, this one shaking slightly.

“Mommy and I woke to a broken house full of blood. Father comes home late, so mommy said she didn’t wake up when she heard the noise.” Now her voice was full of tears, breaking and shaking throughout.

Her eyes turned to mine. “I didn’t have to stay up late, watching for him to go in your room. You were gone.” Staring into the raw red of her eyes, I could see the simmering hatred on the surface. Hatred for me.

“So I told them, told the cops, about you and him. They all figured you were the…” She turned to face me, tears and hate still brimming in her eyes. “They all know that you stole my dad. I told them I had to go to the bathroom, so I went back in the house, and…”

Now her eyes were back on the feather, and she was somewhere else, seeing it all. Slowly, she started again.

“None of them stupid cops were watching his study. It was full of his blood. Books everywhere. Chair shattered and stupid highball glass in pieces on his black walnut hardwood.”

She suddenly looked up at me, eyes wide. “His guns. They were untouched. All that time spent shooting… His gun cabinet was chock full, unlocked, unloaded, untouched.” She turned to me now, then looked down at the rifle in her hands.

“I don’t think he’s even used this one,” she said, marveling at it.

“Do you really intend to change that?” I asked in a whisper.

She stared at me, then down at her finger, her pink nails and too small hands tight against the wooden stock. She looked back at me again, straight at my chest, where the rifle was leveled.

“I want to,” she whispered back. “I want to bring my daddy back.” She finally blinked the tears out of her eyes, and the hatred came pouring out of her as she stared at the center of my chest.

“It won’t. It will just ruin your life.” I took a deep breath in, grabbing the courage. “Keep the gun at me, but know that I’m not lying.” I waited for her to nod, and she didn’t. “I didn’t do anything to your dad. There’s a lot in that video I don’t understand, I do understand that you’re scared right now. And that’s why I’m here. Not to get shot by my student, my friend. But to help her see reason,” I said.

Her eyes slowly trailed upward to my eyes, then held there before she broke. She collapsed, the rifle falling as she let go of it to break into a horrible sobbing fit. The rifle landed on my side of the basswood trunk.

Feverishly, I leapt for it. With the heavy metal and wood furnishing secured in my hands, I realized I had no idea how this type of gun worked. The only thing I’d ever shot was some sort of pistol with an eleven in the name, and that had been a decade ago in some long forgotten shooting range.

The cold metal of the lever underneath my glove drew my attention, and I jacked the lever down. Nothing happened. I looked down at the safety, then decided just to try it again. This time, an unfired bullet flew out of an ejection port on the side, and I could see another thin sliver of death being loaded within.

I slammed the lever up and down repeatedly, bullets coughing out with a noisy rasp. Over the small clinks and thumps of the unloading, I could still hear Noel’s sobbing. Now empty, I threw the husked rifle into the woods uncaringly.

Standing, I stepped over the trunk to sit next to Noel. She was curled up in the dirt, hiding her face, and sobbing. I put a hand on her to rub her back, and she screamed, kicking at me. I scooted back, her yell fading into the choked sobs again.

I moved away, then just sat there silently. I listened to Noel’s sobs eventually die away into labored breathing, and then just deep, haunted moans.

Gloved hands between my knees, I stared at the pile of live ammunition, and the small reddish brown feather.

Suprising myself, I began to silently cry.

*****

Inspector Horne was an older, skinny woman. She stared at the clearing over thin, gold rimmed glasses that were bound to her neck by a skinny metal chain. She was dressed carefully in work clothes and a thick down coat, buttoned only to the waist.

I watched her eyebrows knit together as she peered down at the lever action rifle I had thrown to the ground at least an hour ago. She was alone next to the old basswood, in her own world of quiet concentration.

Thick clouds had gathered above quickly, suddenly and violently pelting the woods with blasts of thin, melty snow. It’d stopped for a while, now only blasting us with a never-ending wind from the mountain.

The sun was hidden behind the clouds, and with my phone taken away, I had no sense of what time it really was. I was trapped in slow time again. Nearby, a cicada buzzed.

I looked around again for Noel, but she had been taken too, with a thin red blanket and a cop’s hand around her shoulder. She had still been crying, snot pouring down her face. She hadn’t looked at me once.

I felt my eyes land on the feather again. Nearby, the inspector touched the same sappy cutting in the tree that I had. The feather was pinned beneath a single unfired bullet, pushing and pulling with gusts of wind.

There was something almost vile about the way it was held there. It seemed lost, trying to free itself and rejoin its flock.

Tearing my eyes away from the pinned feather, I stared into the woods. They had lost their apathy. It had been silenced, choked out as the space between the trees was choked with cops, their chirps of radio chatter and the steam from hot coffee in paper-thin McDonald’s cups.

Radiating outward from Horne was a small entourage of cops. The infection of blue uniforms spread as they scuttled over every inch of the woods, all but two steering clear of a yellow line of tape I sat just outside of.

My own red blanket covered my head and back, doing a poor job to keep the wind from cutting through my jacket as I sat against a tree..

“Mr. Dempsey,” a particularly unkempt and balding blue-suit was saying. “Can you please take a stand?”

I looked up at him, and imagined what I must look like. Sleep rings under my eyes, fucked up hair, sweat frozen to my face, and still recovering from having a gun pointed at my head. I blinked heavily once, twice, then said, “Why?”

He stared back at me with a growing resentment, hand on the taser in his holster. “I need to make sure you don’t have any more weapons on you, I do,” he said, slowly. His accent was lilting in an almost sing-song manner, though his thick beard and mustache muffled his words.

I looked back at the rifle, which another cop was carefully shoving into a large plastic bag. Its lever was stuck in the ‘down’ position, and I wondered idly if I’d ruined it. “Wasn’t mine,” I said tiredly.

“Be that as it may,” he started, almost growling.

“Heel, Junior.” Inspector Horne approached the two of us, and the blue-suit Junior stepped back, plainly annoyed. “Good boy,” she said in an accent to match his own. “I’m sure Mrs. Montgomery could use some help back at the home,” she said pointedly, hooking her thumb backwards.

He wandered away, cursing and muttering something under his breath about dog treats. Horne turned to look at me, glasses magnifying her blue eyes as she gave me an evaluating stare. Her thinning, gray eyebrows peaked high as the stare went on.

“What?” I finally asked.

She went on staring, curious eyes and brows unchanging. A sudden gust of wind blew a crop of black hair into her eyes, covering her gold-rimmed glasses. She blinked, and carefully moved the hair out of her eyes as she crouched to face me on my level.

I thought about asking her again, but decided against it as she settled on her haunches.

Then, her eyes moved past mine, to something behind me. Idly, she pulled a knife out of the pouch on her belt.

I turned to watch her as she wicked a thick but stodgy dead branch off of the tree, pulled it to her, and began to slice the dead stubs off. Thin, pale curls of wood, maybe ash, dropped into the woods between her knees. The knife had to be as sharp as sin.

“Are you our guy?” She asked me without looking up. Her head was cocked slightly as she looked down. She swiftly squared the branch, leaving a pile of pale curls of wood at our feet. “Did you take Kyle?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t know anything about that, besides what Noel told me. I… I’m sorry I ran away when we were on the phone. I was worried about her.”

She looked at me silently and slid the block of wood into the pouch with her knife, still assessing me all the while. Her lips made a line, and she stood again. “That was about the worst thing you could’ve done. It doesn’t exactly help prove your innocence in this whole ordeal. But I’m sure you’ve figured that out.”

She paused, looking over at the pile of bullets. “I’ve got a lot of questions to ask you, Mr. Dempsey. First, we’re gonna need to search you. Stand up,” she said matter-of-factly.

I did so, almost without thinking. She had honed her cop-voice as much as her knife, and it shocked me how quickly I jumped to do what she said.

“You got anything on you I should worry about? Needles, sharps, guns?”

I shook my head, thinking of Sam and Jack, and the imagery that had stuck in their minds. I grimaced, facing the old inspector.

“Turn an’ face the tree, kindly,” she drawled. I did so, and she kicked my feet apart, so my legs were spread. Considerate but roughly, she patted me down and checked my pockets.

My wallet and phone had already been taken, leaving only the headphones for her to find. She carefully replaced them, patting on my back. “You’re good,” she said.

I turned to face her again. “What happens now?” I asked, feeling the nervous energy bleed into my voice.

She smiled. “We take you down to the station, ask you some questions. That’s all we were gonna do on the phone too, before you went Forrest on us.” She surveyed the basswood over the creek, looking down at the slowly disappearing pile of ammunition an officer was slipping into a bag. “I’m just glad no one got hurt.”

She turned back to me, and I nodded. “It was a close thing. I don’t think-”

“Save it for the station, Dempsey.” She turned to a nearby cop with a high ponytail, and approached to talk with her briefly. I turned back to the feather. As the final bullet was packed in the bag, it finally slipped away into the wind.

I watched as it climbed, higher and higher, until it disappeared into leafless trees. As it faded away, I wondered if it would reach the sky, or if it would be caught again in the skewers winter had made of the dead branches.

“Let’s go, Dempsey.” Inspector Horne was waiting for me at the edge of the clearing.

I stood.

*****

The empty side street that fed into the park entrance was bathed in flashing blue and red lights. Compared to the cop cars that filled the street, I realized Horne’s car was different. It had the same bars in the back windows, but no sirens, and no obvious signage.

Now, other parts about her stood out to me. She wore no uniform, just black slacks and a smart button down with a coat, along with her fancy, gold rimmed glasses, and their thin, web-like chain.

“I can’t get in that car,” I said.

Horne was standing on the opposite side of her small blue-black four door, and having opened the door, she was already situated with her left foot on the inside. “And why not?” she asked, with guarded curiosity.

I already felt woozy, staring through the bulletproof window at where she intended me to sit. I shook my head, and looked at her from across the car. “Matter of fact,” I started, knowing I wasn’t answering her question, “do I need to come with you to the station?”

Horne looked at me testily, her eyes narrowing. She simply said, “No.”

The ‘but I’ll arrest you if I have to,’ went unstated.

“I have a meeting with a professor of mine soon,” I lied, the meeting wasn't for hours yet. “Maybe we could do it another time?”

She leaned on the side of the car, sighing quietly. “You’ve got a meeting at, what, eight in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Dempsey, we need your help with this. Noel’s father is missing, and whatever just happened in the woods back there needs to be cleared up.” She looked down at me meaningfully. “I’ve seen the security footage. We need your utmost cooperation in this matter,” she drawled slowly.

I felt a shock of anxiety ride down my spine and out to my fingers as I registered the doublespeak for what it was.

You're fucked.

“Do I have to ride in the car? I could just walk. And I’ll tell you for free, I’m not answering any questions without a lawyer.”

The lights of the sirens played in her eyes as they glimmered, and she smiled cruely. “Being a smartass won’t get you anywhere, Dempsey.” Her southern accent had vanished, and was replaced with a formal north-eastern accent. She slammed the car door, and rounded the vehicle while pulling out her handcuffs.

Finally, I realized what had been bothering me about her the entire time. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or just the fact that I’d been making some reckless decisions, but I knew she was working with the kid gloves on. She was no cop. She was a fed. Why was a CIA or FBI agent in town, just in time for all of this to happen? And where the hell had her accent gone?

These thoughts dissolved as she pushed me roughly against the car’s trunk, bringing my hands together behind my back. “You have the right to remain silent,” she started. I tuned her out, distantly hearing that I was under arrest for ‘disobeying an officer of the law,’ while one single burning truth rode visciously in the front of my mind as I stared blankly at the dark blue paint of the trunk.

She was going to make me ride in a car.

*****

I was living a nightmare. Trapped in the back seat behind bars, I sat with my legs curled up against my chest, feeling like some sort of dull species of rabid animal with my heart stabbing a beat so hard into my ribs I felt it in my skull. Somewhere distant, Horne was talking uncaringly on her radio.

I could feel every bump in the road, and I had to keep myself from throwing up Levi’s hot chocolate all over the leather seats. My body, traveling faster than it had in years, knew something was desperately wrong, and was flooding with flight and fight chemicals.

I could do neither. I very carefully tried to force this knowledge into my body, but it went on blindly losing its shit. Levi and the White Picket Trench seemed like a lifetime ago now.

I closed my eyes, and it made it slightly better. Now, all I could see was their faces. My mother and my sister, cold in the morgue, my father pulling me out of-

No. Happy thoughts.

My mother. My mother had driven us to vacation every year. Although Danil, our driver, had taken us to Brearley every day, mom had taken it on herself to drive all of us down to our vacation home every year.

‘I wasn’t born into this life of luxury like all of you,’ she’d say to us anytime someone suggested we take a plane or have the chauffeur drive us. Nadine Dempsey reckoned, often verbally in her I’m-your-parent-and-I’m-teaching-you-a-lesson tone that, ‘Sometimes doing some hard work all on her lonesome keeps a woman sane.’

How keeping a gas pedal parallel to the floor of the big black dodge caravan she'd bought special for the occasion constituted hard work, my sisters and I never understood. Nor did my father understand why she kept on with it after he'd explained the seemingly foreign concept of cruise control to her for what had to have been the fiftieth time today.

I smiled, thinking of the day Danil had been off sick, and mother, before she went to work, dropped my sisters and I off at Brearley.

She had been worried about being late, but still took the time to kiss us goodbye before peeling out into 83rd Street traffic. A long time after that day, after Nadia and I had graduated from Brearly’s upper school, and Nicolette was just entering the upper school,

You laughed.

The thought stopped in my mind, jarring my eyes open.

I looked around.

Horne had no smile on her face, and the noise had been… A laugh. It wasn’t Horne’s voice, and it hadn’t been mine. There had been no crackle of the radio in the gruff, quiet laughter.

Had it come from inside my head?

Fuck. I’m losing it. Today was not a good day.

“We’re here,” Horne said. The car came to a sudden stop, and I pulled from my thoughts yet again.

She killed the car, then got out and pulled me roughly from where I had curled up. “See?” she drawled, her southern mountain accent mysteriously returned. “Wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

I thought about saying a few things, then decided against it, in fear of my voice shaking. It felt good to be out of the car, finally.

The Old Hill Police Station was an ugly, bedraggled thing, crouched low to the ground and made of soot stained concrete and hastily drawn curtains behind thick paned windows.

Horne herded me past a standing rock with the town’s map carved into it, hand on the thick chain of my cuffs, and forced me to open the door for us. I did, and I was pushed into the empty waiting room.

The precinct smelled like dust and stale coffee. Behind a desk, a young pretty woman who was watching reruns of Cheers on a seven or eight inch tube TV stood suddenly, staring reverently at Horne as the two of us passed her stopping before a thin hallway left of the desk.

Horne looked at her from across the sea of paperwork and cold coffee as the theme song rang out in the small, guileful room.

“Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot… Wouldn’t you like to get away?”

“A bit on the nose, no Kim?” The young woman stared blankly at Horne, then blinked. The inspector sighed, and shoved me down the hallway. The theme song echoed down after us, the thin piano and sullen bass seeming empty and dead, he vocals haunting us from down the hall.

“Where everybody knows your name…”

The precinct was empty, save for the dead cockroaches in the corners. I imagined all the bored fifty-something blue suits coming out of their dusty offices at the first sign of something interesting, getting all geared up to go stand in the middle of the woods to be useless and drink coffee.

I was herded past the empty meeting rooms and offices towards what was obviously the cellblock. A small light above the high security door flickered, then died. The door opened as we approached, sounding with a loud buzz and a chunk of something mechanical in the wall.

The cells were empty, and surprisingly clean, save for a thin, emaciated roach that slivered up the wall and into a dim light fixture. Horne had paused here, to let me take it all in. I smirked, and hoped she didn’t see it.

“You get a call, of course.” And again, the accent was gone. She gestured to an old landline on the wall, to the right of the entrance. “You’ll probably wanna call that lawyer of yours,” she said, full of a dry mirth.

“Can’t exactly call with my hands locked up,” I kindly reminded her.

“Now that’s quite the conundrum,” she smirked, and now it was an exaggerated New Yorker accent, something out of the 1980’s.

“What the fuck is your deal, lady?” I couldn’t help it.

Her smile only grew, and she roughly grabbed my hands, undoing the handcuffs. “Now, do you have the number memorized? Or do you need your phone? Most a’ you youngins these days,” again she slipped into the mountain-folk accent, “don’t bother to memorize phone numbers.”

“I know the number.” I glared at her. As a child, I had only known one. My mother’s.

She was dead now, and I was back in that morgue again, staring at her ruined face. It made me think of the old Snapchat and Facebook memories that had popped up on her birthday, and all the old pictures they’d shown at the slideshow at her funeral.

They weren’t right. They were no longer her for me. My mother was a ruined eye socket, an open jaw with both sets of pristine teeth revealed. A face torn clean of skin, then muscle, and then most of its bone by the rainy blacktop.

Across the table, my sister was somehow worse, a twin to my mothers disfigurement. At times, I had trouble remembering her face. There hadn’t been anything left that resembled a human.

I took the phone off the rack, listening to the dial tone. Horne turned away from me, slipping the knife and block of wood out of her belt pouch, starting on it again.

I laid my head against the cold cinderblock wall, receiver to my ear as it played it's reedy dial tone. I held my finger above the number pad.

What do you do?

< >

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helloiamausacresfan · 1 year

Text

(CW/TW police violence, death)

Her name was Lisa Edwards.

And on February 6, 2023 she showed up to at least one hospital in Knoxville, Tennessee, with a shattered ankle and suffering from a stroke.

One of those hospitals called the police on her for the supposed "crime" of not being able to wheel herself out of the hospital after discharge WHILE HAVING A STROKE.

And then the police proceeded to tell Edwards that she was "faking", ignore her calls that she was STRUGGLING TO BREATHE and manhandle her in the short period before Edwards died of a stroke in the back of a police vehicle.

This is not okay.

This is NEVER okay.

Sources:

#lisa edwards #cw police #tw police violence #cw police violence #tw police #tw police brutality #cw police brutality

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kaleighkarma · 10 months

Text

Writing here because I have yet to see anything about this. Stop cop city. The Atlanta city council voted to give cop city funding after listening to 15 hours of public comment with 98% of the comments against giving funding. Cop city is where they are destroying the Atlanta forest in favor of making a military like training facility to teach cops how to more effectively murder people. America is in a weird state and I am so heartbroken for my friends and family in Atlanta. I am so heartbroken for the bipoc communities that are going to be irreparably harmed in both the physical cops killing them way and the impacts of climate change that will inevitably happen upon removing the forest grounds. Cop city will never be built. Please if you can donate money to bail funds in Atlanta. They are labeling peaceful protestors as domestic terrorists including those leading the bail fund. If we continue to sit by and watch this happen it is only going to get worse

#talking #stop cop city #tw domestic terrorist #tw police violence #if you need me to add a warning please send in an anon ask or dm me #I’m crying for my friends #but I’m also so proud of them for what they are doing #I am close to this matter if you have questions I can do my best to give you answers #and if anyone tries to other sides this I’m blocking on sight

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us3rnam3-r3dact3d · 1 year

Text

Okay but like… if department enforcers are Magic Cops… how far does that metaphor stretch?

TW: I’m about to talk about cops, violence, racism, and fantasy racism.

Do they have a history of bias and violence? Does that bias target real world marginalized groups or does it follow the conventions of magical “racism” (however clumsy Redacted’s metaphors for it might be)? Are enforcers statistically more likely to commit domestic abuse?

Do enforcers carry human weapons? If not, how is their magic allowed in a way that civilian magic isn’t? Is magic from an enforcer only legal in a Defensive situation or can they be Offensive?

Seeing as the entire Department is corrupt, I think it’s safe to assume that enforcers are probably allowed a great deal of legal leeway that they use to their advantage when faced with retaliation against their possible violence.

What’s the enforcer reaction to other enforcers who speak out against corruption and abuse of power in their department? Are they brutalized, ostracized, and convinced to fall in with the Department line when they speak out? And when those people give up on trying to speak out and fall in line, what happens to those marginalized groups we talked about earlier?

I’ve just… got a lot of questions. And I want sweetheart to quit.

#redacted asmr #my redacted content #tw cops #tw racism #tw fantasy racism #tw police violence

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neathyingenue · 2 months

Note

tell us about Silvia and her postcolonial fl story! 👀

Oh man ok!! text wall incoming!!

Silvia is of Central American Indigenous, Spanish, and Welsh descent, so lots of fun fun colonialism in her family background there. She was born in British Honduras (Belize) but moved to England as a baby where she grew up and got an Oxford education. After her Welsh dad was killed by police, her British Honduran dad moved back to his home country to advocate for independence from the British. Rather than go with him, Silvia chose to go to the Neath, where she'd heard there was a card game where you could win your Heart's Desire (aka bring my dad back!). She hadn't intended to stay but then she died during the Starved Invasion.

More recently as I have been flabbergasted with how poorly the Third City is written and thought, damn I could do better Silvia has learned more about the history of the Neath, she realized that there are like actual Maya people still walking around, and has become obsessed with the idea that if she could find somewhere the Third City survives, she could realize her father's dream of a homeland independent of colonialism. (Will she lapse into colonizer tendencies while she tries to 'discover' this place, instead of allying herself with the Indigenous and creole communities who are actually still around in Central America? We will see!!)

In a metatextual sense, Silvia is an excuse for me to work out my complicated feelings about being Latina with some English/Scottish ancestry, being raised in the heart of the empire that is the latest in a line of powers who've destroyed my ancestors (I'm US American)-- while also having a lifelong obsession with English literature and a degree in English and Spanish lit :) I want to rewrite how people like me are depicted in English, especially Victorian English, texts, and interrogate my impulse to overly align myself either with the colonized or colonizer!

#you didn't ask for an essay but TOO BAD #tw police violence #tw parental death #silvia salcedo #i am having more and more devastating ideas so. genuinely thanks for that

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real-total-drama-takes · 6 months

Note

I, writer anon, have returned, with more for my death AU.

The store was loud, yet only 5 people bustled around the isles. Duncan turned his head left and right, and walked in. He saw a face, Sierra, he shivered but persisted. He shoved a lady and walked over to the wall.

“Oh my god! Is that you? Duncan? I haven’t seen you in- at least a month!” Sierra chirped. He turned his head, and frowned.

“I’d recommend the door.” He said under his breath. That night he’d rob the store, having no idea about the police just 13 yards outside the show-all glass window. He took the gun out of his pocket and raised it in the air. “The money, sir.”

The clerk shook at the sight. “Yes-yes.” the clerk said shaking. As he handed Duncan the money his sweaty hand reached slowly for the phone. Bang. Dead.

“Big mistake.” Duncan lit a cigarette. Immediately there was yelling. 12. They burst in through the door. Duncan shot the glass window and it immediately shattered, giving him an exit. He ran, laughing like a maniac. He noticed a nice looking car, with a nice old lady inside of it. “This is mine now!” He yelled, ripping the door open, and shoving the lady out. He jumped in the car and kicked the gas, without even closing the door.

He slammed on the breaks and booked it for a phone booth, where he inserted a quarter and rang Courtney. “Hello? Courtney?” He said lowly.

“Yea? Duncan?” She said, the phone compressing her voice.

“Outside your house. Now. I’ll be there.” He immediately slammed the phone down, and ran back to the car. He heard sirens. Shit shit shit.

Courtney waited outside her house, checking her watch, tapping her foot. “Duncan?” She asked, her breath visible in the cold night.

He waved his pistol out the car window and shot one of her home windows. “Later wifey!” He screamed. He just wanted to make one big final act for her, knowing he’d be locked up for the rest of his life, if he didn’t make it out of town fast enough.

“The hell?” Confused, and cold, she ran after the speeding vehicle.

The night was calm, and outside the apartment complex in the center of town was Noah, his fiancée Emma, and their neighbors, Alejandro, and Heather. Noah held his eager dog, on a leash, whilst he conversing with Alejandro. Emma was talking to Heather, about their siblings. “What is it boy?” Noah asked, as his dog jumped on him, hearing the sirens before anyone else. The cars pulled up, laying out road spikes.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked, walking up to Noah. He shrugged. Suddenly, the four heard the lunatic screaming, as his car sped onto the spikes.

Duncan ran out the car, and realized he was encircled by the fuzz. He pulled out his gun, and shot an officer, who immediately dropped dead. They all screamed to open fire, and they did. Duncan struggled to stand, he flipped the middle finger and crumpled, his final breath being used to yell, “Pigs!”

“Holy shit!” Alejandro screamed, immediately running to the body. Heather followed. Noah and Emma walked slowly towards it.

Emma gagged, “I’m gonna be sick.” Noah wrapped his arm around her shoulder, as she covered her eyes. No one was sure why they walked up to the body, but it was like they had to.

The cops ordered the group to stand back and retreat to their apartments. Courtney walked up to the scene, she saw the body, in a pool of blood, and fainted right then and there.

By, Writer Anon.

📝

#how do I tag this?#tw police violence #total drama #td duncan #td courtney

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