#Women and Wrongful Conviction

[zoetekohana]

I don't understand anything anymore. I simply don't...

[martyr-mayhem]

Manahel al-Otaibi is a 29-year old fitness instructor facing over a decade behind bars in Saudi Arabia. She was arrested for tweeting about women’s rights and posting photos of herself without an abaya, a traditional robe.

Her case was taken to a Saudi court notorious for unfair trials, where she was given a prison sentence for “terrorist offenses.”

Her family hasn't heard from her since December, and Saudi authorities refuse to share her whereabouts. But when she last spoke with her family, she told them she was being held in solitary confinement and had been brutally beaten, leaving her with a broken leg and no medical treatment.

We urgently need your help: demand that Saudi authorities immediately release Manahel and drop all charges against her.

Sign the petition here 👇🏻

[deadpresidents]

"What emerged in two interviews with Trump, and conversations with more than a dozen of his closest advisers and confidants, were the outlines of an imperial presidency that would reshape America and its role in the world. To carry out a deportation operation designed to remove more than 11 millions people from the country, Trump told me, he would be willing to build migrant detention camps and deploy the U.S. military, both at the border and inland. He would let red states monitor women's pregnancies and prosecute those who violate abortion bans. He would, at his personal discretion, withhold funds appropriated by Congress, according to top advisers. He would be willing to fire a U.S. Attorney who doesn't carry out his order to prosecute someone, breaking with a tradition of independent law enforcement that dates from America's founding. He is weighing pardons for every one of his supporters accused of attacking the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, more than 800 of whom have pleaded guilty or been convicted by a jury. He might not come to the aid of an attacked ally in Europe or Asia if he felt that country wasn't paying enough for its own defense. He would gut the U.S. civil service, deploy the National Guard to American cities as he sees fit, close the White House pandemic-preparedness office, and staff his Administration with acolytes who back his false assertion that the 2020 election was stolen."

-- "How Far Would He Go", TIME Magazine's interviews with Donald Trump, April 30, 2024.

I know we're saturated in coverage of Trump and it's easy (and probably better for our mental health) to usually ignore most of the articles when we see them, especially since he's so full of shit and infuriating. But it's also important to recognize that he is going to be the Republican nominee for President and he could absolutely be elected in November, and if you thought his first term was scary and dangerous, you need to understand that in a second term he's going to have people around him that are better prepared and VERY willing to do the crazy shit that he wants to do to this country. They aren't even hiding the fact that they are seeking vengeance against political opponents whom they feel have wronged them, and are ready to fundamentally dismantle the democratic foundations that are barely holding this country together after nearly 250 years.

Just look at what Trump says about the people who he incited to attack the United States Capitol in an attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election and halt the peaceful transfer of power that has happened every four years since 1789:

"Trump has sought to recast an insurrectionist riot as an act of patriotism. 'I call them the J-6 patriots,' he say. When I ask whether he would consider pardoning every one of them, he says, 'Yes, absolutely.' As Trump faces dozens of felony charges, including for election interference, conspiracy to defraud the United States, willful retention of national-security secrets, and falsifying business records to conceal hush-money payments, he has tried to turn legal peril into a badge of honor."

Oh, and please note that Trump -- a former President of the United States and possible future President of the United States -- said on the record in these interviews with TIME: "There is a definite antiwhite feeling in the country and that can't be allowed either." We are at a point where political leaders are outright saying that in this country again, and it's because of Donald Trump.

So, take the time to recognize that Trump is straight-up telling us the country we're going to be living in if he wins again in November. And understand that your vote matters -- and WHO you vote for matters -- because, as I've been saying for years now, ELECTIONS HAVE FUCKING CONSEQUENCES.

[steveyockey]

In the absence of a clear and obvious angle to attack Bushnell’s protest, most likely due to his status as a serviceman that would make outright insulting him or suppressing the news itself scandalous, discussions on Western shores have now taken on the familiar framing of mental illness. In Time Magazine’s write-up of Bushnell’s death, the article finishes with a link to the suicide hotline, and asks readers to contact mental health providers if they are experiencing a “crisis.” Mark Joseph Stern, a writer at Slate, seemingly unasked, also wrote on Twitter/X:

“I strongly oppose valorizing any form of suicide as a noble, principled, or legitimate form of political protest. People suffering mental illness deserve empathy and respect, but it is wildly irresponsible to praise them for using a political justification to take their own life.”

Conviction does not exist to the American. To be willing to die in a selfless act for what they believe in only exists for those outside America's sphere of influence. Many will recall reporting on those who self-immolated in protest in Iran and in Russia for instance where this sort of approach, unwilling to engage with the root of its cause, would not even be entertained, let alone written and published with sincerity. The Arab Spring began with a self-immolation. The self-immolation of Buddhist monks in protest of South Vietnam’s persecution became defining images of the war and its corruption. Within America’s walls however, there is a belief, unspoken and ingrained from birth, that democracy allows for everyone’s voices to be heard and that its representatives are inherently inclined to respond to the people and their widespread wishes.

Desperation at inaction or complicity in terror and atrocity need not apply. Everyone incensed by their government to such an extent must simply have something wrong with them. To be able to go about one’s day knowing that children are screaming from the hunger that is eating their insides and that pregnant women are eating bread made from animal feed, and that the United States is supporting Israel’s creation of this famine, is apparently the real sign of well-adjustment.

Seamus Malekafzali, “The Words Burned Through His Throat: The Sacrifice of Aaron Bushnell,” February 26, 2024.

[oddlylivingbeauty]

Hot take, and I truly mean this in the kindest way possible, but some Pagans very much need to examine their own religious trauma before speaking on what is right/wrong to say in Pagan spaces.

I understand that Paganism is an incredibly freeing religion for many people (most notably for those coming from Christianity), and that’s wonderful, but Paganism isn’t lawless, and it never has been.

I understand that you don’t like religious dogma, that’s fair. But that doesn’t mean this religion is a free for all. The Gods are authority figures, they are rulers, and they do ask things of us. For some Pagans I fear that they have based their entire religion on being an opposition to Christianity and that’s just… not ideal.

You cannot build a healthy relationship to the Gods if you are constantly comparing them to Christianity. You cannot follow the Gods if you refuse to do anything they ask of you that feels too similar to another religion that has hurt you in some way.

I’ve seen people say that Pagans shouldn’t veil because modesty is only a Christian invention designed to oppress women. I’ve seen people say that blasphemy doesn’t exist and that the idea that Gods (any God(s)) can get offended is a Christian fear tactic. I’ve seen people say that humans are on the same hierarchical level as the Gods and that the idea that humans are servants to God is a Christian tool for denying human power.

Not only are these things blatantly untrue, but it also negates the power of the Gods, and pushes doubt upon the personal convictions of fellow Pagans.

Paganism exists independently from Christianity. I truly don’t know how anyone can build a healthy practice when the only way they connect with the Gods is in a reactionary “screw Christianity!!” sort of way. Despite what society may say; Paganism is not an enemy to Christianity. It exists independently, and it has for thousands and thousands of years.

I really hope everyone who struggles with religious trauma can find the healing they need, but I implore you to not allow that to be the defining factor of your religion, and I beg that to not distract you from the undoubtable authority of the Gods.

May the Gods bless everyone, hail the great Lords and Ladies above 🩷

[goorgeousz]

commando | emily prentiss underwear trilogy

commando | emily prentiss

underwear trilogy

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!bau!reader

summary: emily became a professional in guessing your underwear. but one time she missed it.

content/tw: mentions of alcohol, emily guesses reader’s underwear, reader goes commando, flirting, (if i missed any please lmk! )

word count: 1.2k

a/n: I hate this fucking name (underwear) but I can’t think of anything else. There will be a part three (if you want me to tag you when it’s out, lmk!), fear not my horny emily admirers <3

tag: @snoopyaah

dividers: @uzmacchiato

part one here

main masterlist

“Rough night?” you ask Emily, watching her rest her head on her hands, pressing her temples like it would magically make her brain come back to normal.

“Very.” she muttered, raising her eyes from the position to stare at you.

As always, her staring made you uneasy.

For the majority of your life, you were sure who you were. Your likes, your dislikes. About food, weather, clothes and people. It wasn’t like you labeled yourself, you didn’t. But you never actually questioned yourself. Ever.

Yes, you found women attractive. Yes, you’ve kissed one or two during college years. For fun. For science. But it wasn’t something you consciously thought about. You didn’t have a moment when you realized you liked women. 

You didn’t.

Right?

It wasn’t something you thought about. Like it was, somehow, out of your league. Something that your brain wasn’t capable of developing. You never thought ‘oh, I am straight’. You just also never thought you weren’t. 

And that wasn’t a problem. It never stopped you from sleeping at night. It was never a topic on your therapy sessions. You managed to get where you were (all the way up to the FBI) without thinking about it.

Your sexuality simply wasn’t a question for you.

Until Emily happened.

All it took was one heavy flirting and all your convictions shattered. One night at a bar she mentioned your underwear, and you lost it.

And then, you started to notice things. It’s not like you never noticed them, it’s just… different. For example, how the scent of her shampoo (coconut, because why not?) filled the entire room when she undid her ponytail, usually after a long stretch. How she always leaned back and wiggled her eyebrows proudly when she told a joke (usually a terrible one). How she pronounced your name, dragging the last syllable when she asked you a favor, sharp and pointed when she was annoyed, singing-songing it when she had something funny to say.

Emily was all up on you, being in presence (you were table partners) and in thought (you couldn’t get her out of your head).

“You want a refill?” you asked, pointed to the half-empty mug in front of her, the coffee in it probably cold.

“If I taste this cheap ass disgusting coffee I will throw up” she groaned, dropping her head down again. You chuckled. At the sound of it, she snapped her head up, her eyes slightly widened like she had an idea “Let's make a bet!”

“Let’s not.”

“Yes, let’s do it!” she disagreed, pushing herself up and smiling greedily. You rolled your eyes, because of course she would have it her way (you always let her) “If I guess your underwear correctly, you’ll get me a coffee from the cafeteria downtown.”

“Absolutely not! I just got here.”

“I’ll do all your paperwork if I guess wrong.” you eyed her suspiciously.

“Why don’t you ask Reid?”

“Ew. I can’t picture Reid in underwear. He’s like a sibling.”

“And I’m not?”

“Nope.” she answered with a ‘pop’, her stare warming you up inside. “I’ll do your paperwork for a week.”

“Fine.” you agreed, more to change the subject of her not seeing you as a sibling than the prize suggested.

She clapped her hands in delight, leaning back on her chair and watching you up and down.

“You’ll have to turn around.”

“Absolutely fucking not. That was not on the deal.” you pointed at her. She laughed, shrugging.

“Worth a try. Fine.” then resumed the staring. Just when you were close to calling the whole thing off (all the staring was actually doing a number on you), she started to speak “You blow dried your hair, and you’re wearing lip gloss. Which means you’re in a good mood.”

“Feeling pretty puts me in a good mood, oh you’re so good.” you snarked, sarcastically. She didn’t flinch, continuing her analysis.

“No, you woke up in a good mood. That’s why you’re all doll up. And you never wake up in a good mood, unless you’ve got eight hours of sleep.” she calculates a little more “You never manage to sleep eight hours when you’re in your period, so I can discard those comfy granny panties you own.” you roll your eyes.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Very.” she states, seriously “Alright, we’re almost there. You got here in time, so you had time to get yourself ready. You’re wearing a cotton candy colored bra, I can see the lace peeking out of your shirt.” you glance down horrified and close another button of your shirt, to which she just grins “You’re feeling yourself too much to not be using a matching set. So maybe a tong, cotton candy-colored and lace. Little pink bow on each side. Garcia gave it to you on your birthday. This earned me a cinnamon roll.” she pointed, giving you a cheeky grin.

“The fuck?” you whispered to yourself, getting your car keys and stomping outside. You sighed loudly as you heard Emily’s laughter in the background.

This started a tradition of some sorts. Everytime she wanted something (which usually included food, overpriced coffees and/or reports) from you, she made a bed. Somehow, she always got it right. And it never fails to make you blush furiously.

Which led you to another Saturday night, on your ‘monthly single-only exclusively night out’ (Garcia named it).

You, Emily, Garcia, Morgan and a not-very-excited-but-just-now-after-four-monthly-meetings-is-starting-to-get-used-to-it Spencer. The only singles in the team.

For some reason you and Emily got picked out to get the third round of drinks for the group, so now you were standing side by side on the balcony watching the bartender prepare five margaritas (to which Morgan was surprisingly excited for).

“If I guess your underwear right now, you owe me a shot.” she tried, already smirking.

You snorted, mimicking her smile before complying “Go on.” because there was no point in trying to stop it. You had just as much fun as she did, and right now the loud music and the previous two drinks did their job in keeping your worries far from your mind. So any thoughts of how you shouldn’t be feeling like that about your coworker just vanished, leaving you with nothing but her lingering eyes and how kissable her lips looked under that light.

“There’s no way you’re wearing lace under that dress.” she pointed out, making you laugh in agreement. That night you decided to go a little out of your way, choosing a backless skin-tight dark brown dress, its length stopping on your mid-tights. You felt good in it, and the ogling you kept getting from Emily did a poor job in humbling you.

“What else?” you encouraged her.

“You’re a freak for matching colors, so I’d say you’re wearing one of those invisible thongs. Probably the same color of your dress or something red-ish.” she decided, raising her eyebrows in expectation.

Your lips curled into a smug smirk, and Emily interpreted in a bad sign. “Oh oh.” she murmured.

Encouraged by nothing more than the alcohol-boldness and the desire stirring on the pit of your stomach from weeks of teasing, you leaned closer to her, speaking in a mix of teasing and amusement tone, your lips ghosting the shell of her ear.

“Oh, Em. I’m going commando.” 

[robertreich]

10 Worst Things About The Trump Presidency

Donald Trump left office with the lowest approval rating of any president ever. But some people now seem to be suffering from amnesia.

Let me jog your memory. Here are 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency — in no particular order.

#1. Trump fueled division and sparked a record uptick in hate crimes.

#2. Murder went way up under Trump. He presided over the largest ever single-year increase in homicides in 2020. A number of factors might have contributed to that, but a big one is…

#3. Gun sales broke records under Trump, who has bragged about how he “did nothing” to restrict guns as president in spite of…

#4. Under Trump, America suffered more than 1,700 mass shootings.

#5. Trump said there were "very fine people" among the neo-Nazis in Charlottesville.

I’m halfway to ten. If you think I’m missing something big, leave it in the comments.

#6. Trump allied himself with the Proud Boys, a violent hate group who helped orchestrate the Jan 6 Capitol attack.

#7. Trump’s not wrong when he says…

TRUMP: I got rid of Roe v. Wade.

It is entirely because of Trump’s judicial appointments that 1 in 3 American women of childbearing age now lives in states with abortion bans.

#8. One of Trump’s Supreme Court justices was Brett Kavanaugh, a man accused of sexual assault by multiple women.

#9. Trump’s White House interfered in the FBI’s investigation of Brett Kavanaugh’s alleged sexual assaults.

And now: #10. Trump has been convicted of committing 34 felonies while in office. The criminally false business filings he got convicted for in New York? All of them were committed while he was president.

I’m sorry, did I say the 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency? I meant 15.

#11. Trump’s failed pandemic response is estimated to have led to hundreds of thousands of needless deaths. By the time Trump left office, roughly 3,000 Americans were dying of covid every day. That’s a 9/11-scale mass casualty event every single day. How did Trump screw up so badly?

#12. Trump’s White House discarded the pandemic response playbook that had been assembled by the Obama administration.

#13. Trump disbanded the National Security Council’s pandemic response team.

#14. Trump repeatedly lied about the danger of covid, saying it was no worse than the flu or that it would go away on its own.

But behind closed doors, Trump admitted he knew covid was deadly.

#15. Trump promoted fake covid cures like hydroxychloroquine and even injecting people with disinfectants.

After Trump’s “disinfectant” remarks, poison control centers received a spike in emergency calls.

That’s fifteen things. Should I keep going? Ok, I’ll keep going. The 20 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#16. Trump presided over a net loss of 2.9 million American jobs — the worst recorded jobs numbers of any U.S. president in history.

#17. Trump profited off the presidency, making an estimated $160 million from foreign countries while he was president.

#18. Trump also billed the Secret Service over $1 million for the privilege of staying at his golf clubs and other properties while they protected him. That’s your money!

#19. Trump caused the longest government shutdown in U.S. history when he didn’t get funding for his border wall, which he said Mexico was going to pay for.  

#20. Under Trump, the national debt increased by about 40% — more than in any other four-year presidential term — largely because of his tax cuts for the rich and big corporations.

You didn’t really think I was stopping at 20, did you? We’re going to 25 —

#21. Trump separated more than 5,000 children from their parents at the border, with no plan to ever reunite them, putting babies in cages.

#22. The Muslim Ban. Yes, Trump really did try to ban Muslims from entering the country.

#23. Trump sparked international outrage by moving the American Embassy in Israel to Jerusalem while closing the U.S. mission to Palestine.

#24. Trump tasked his son-in-law Jared Kushner with drafting a potential Middle East “peace plan” with zero Palestinian input.

#25. And finally, Trump recognized Israel’s occupation of the Goh-lahn Heights, which is considered illegal under international law.

So there you have it, folks: The 25 Worst — Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Did I mention the impeachments? We’ve got to do the impeachments. Let’s go to 30.

#26. Trump broke the law by trying to withhold nearly $400 million of U.S. aid for Ukraine in an effort to extort a personal political favor from Ukraine’s Pres. Zelensky. Trump wanted Zelensky to interfere in the 2020 election by announcing an investigation into the Bidens. Delaying this aid to Ukraine weakened Ukraine and strengthened Russia.

#27. Trump personally attacked and ruined the careers of everyone who stood in the way of his illegal Ukraine scheme, including Ambassador Marie Yovanovitch and Lt. Colonel Alexander Vindman.

#28. To cover up the scheme, Trump ordered the White House and State Department to defy congressional subpoenas.

#29. For these reasons, on December 18, 2019, Trump became the third U.S. president to be impeached. He was charged with Abuse of Power and Obstruction of Congress.

#30. Even while he was being investigated for trying to get Ukraine to interfere in the U.S. election, Trump publicly called for China to interfere in the election.

So those are the 30 Worst Things —

I’ll go to 35.

#31. Long before Election Day, Trump started making false claims that the election would be rigged.

#32. After losing, Trump falsely claimed the election was stolen, even though his own inner circle, including his campaign manager, White House lawyers, and his own Justice Department and attorney general told him it was not.

#33. Trump kept telling his Big Lie even after more than 60 legal challenges to the election were struck down in court, many by Trump-appointed judges.

#34. Trump ordered the Department of Justice to falsely claim that the election “was corrupt.”

#35. Trump and his allies used threats to pressure state leaders in Arizona and Georgia to falsify the election results.

We may go to 40.

#36. When none of the previous schemes worked, Trump and his allies produced fake electoral votes cast by fake electors in multiple swing states. His former White House chief of staff and Rudy Giuliani are among the many members of his inner circle who have been criminally indicted for this scheme.

#37. Trump tried to bully Vice President Pence into obstructing the certification of the election.

#38. Trump invited a mob to the Capitol on Jan 6 with his “be there, will be wild” tweet.

#39. Sworn testimony alleges that when Trump was warned that members of the crowd were carrying deadly weapons, he ordered security metal detectors to be taken down.

#40. Knowing the crowd had deadly weapons, he ordered them to go to the Capitol and…

TRUMP: …fight like hell.

#41 — Yes, yes, I know, bear with me.

Trump betrayed his oath to defend the nation by doing nothing to stop the Jan 6 violence. Instead, according to witness testimony, he sat and watched TV for hours.

#42. On January 13, 2021, Trump became the only president ever to be impeached twice. This time he was charged with incitement of insurrection. It was a bipartisan vote.

#43. The majority of senators — 57 out of 100 — voted to convict Trump, including 7 Republican senators.

So that’s the two impeachments and the Big Lie, but wait, we haven’t dealt with Russia, right? So we’re going to 50.

#44. In a likely obstruction of justice, Trump pressured then FBI Director James Comey to stop the FBI’s investigation into Trump’s National Security Adviser, Michael Flynn. This was documented in the Mueller report.

#45. When Comey didn’t bend to Trump’s will, Trump fired him.

#46. Trump tried to shut down the Mueller investigation by ordering White House Counsel Don McGann to fire Mueller. McGann refused because that would be criminal obstruction of justice.

#47. When news got out that Trump tried to fire Mueller, Trump repeatedly told McGann to lie — to Mueller, to press, to public — and even create a false document to conceal Trump’s attempt to fire Mueller.

#48. Trump ordered his staff not to turn over emails showing Don Jr. had set up a meeting at Trump Tower before the 2016 election with representatives of the Russian government.

#49. Trump convinced Michael Cohen to lie to Congress about Trump’s plans to build a Trump Tower in Moscow, and Cohen served prison time for lying to Congress.

#50. Trump was not charged for criminal obstruction of justice because it’s the Justice Department’s policy not to indict a sitting president, but more than a thousand former federal prosecutors who served under both Republicans and Democrats, signed a letter declaring there was more than enough evidence to prosecute Trump.

So those are the 50 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency. Now I could go on…

And I will! The 75 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#51. Trump said he’d hire only the best people, but…

His campaign chair was convicted of multiple crimes.

So was one of his closest associates.

His deputy campaign chair pleaded guilty to crimes.

So did his personal lawyer

His National Security Adviser

The Chief Financial Officer of his business

A campaign foreign policy adviser

And one of his campaign fundraisers.

They all committed crimes, and Trump pardoned most of them.

#52. Trump said he’d drain the Washington swamp. But he appointed more billionaires, CEOs, and Wall Street moguls to his administration than any administration in history

#53. Trump intervened to get his son-in-law, Jared Kushner top-secret clearance after he was denied over concerns about foreign influence.

#54. Trump hosted a Russian Foreign Minister to the Oval Office, where Trump revealed top-secret intelligence.

Oh, and Trump’s economic policies!

#55 Trump promised that the average American family would see a $4,000 pay raise because of his tax cuts for the wealthy and big corporations. How’d that work out? Did you get a $4,000 raise? Of course not! Nobody did!

#56. Trump vowed to protect American jobs, but offshoring increased and manufacturing fell.

#57. Trump said he would fix America’s infrastructure, but it never happened. He announced so many failed “infrastructure weeks” they became a running joke.

#58. Trump said he would be “the voice” of American workers, but he filled the National Labor Relations Board with anti-union flacks who made it harder for workers to unionize.

#59. Trump’s Labor Department made it easier for bosses to get out of paying workers overtime, which cheated 8 million workers of extra pay.

#60. Trump repeatedly suggested he might serve more than two terms in violation of the Constitution — and continues to do so.

#61. Trump called Haiti and African nations “shithole” countries.

#62. Trump tried to terminate DACA, which protects immigrants brought to the U.S. as children. Luckily this was struck down by the courts.

#63. Trump called climate change a “hoax.”

#64. Trump pulled out of the Paris Climate Agreement.

#65. Trump rolled back more than 100 environmental protections.

#66. Every budget Trump proposed included cuts to Social Security and Medicare.

#67. Trump tried (and failed) to repeal the Affordable Care Act, which would have resulted in 20 million Americans losing insurance. And striking down the ACA’s protections for the roughly 130 million people with pre-existing conditions could have driven up their insurance premiums or led to a loss of coverage.

#68. Trump made it easier for employers to remove birth control coverage from insurance plans.

#69. By the end of Trump’s term, the number of people lacking health insurance had risen by 3 million.

#70. Trump lied. Constantly. He made 30,573 false or misleading claims while president — an average of 21 a day, according to Washington Post fact-checkers.

#71. Trump allegedly took hundreds of classified documents on his way out of the White House, reportedly including nuclear secrets, which he then left unsecured in various parts of Mar-a-Lago, including a bathroom. He was even caught on tape showing them off to people.

#72. Trump seriously discussed the idea of nuking a hurricane.

#73. When Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico, Trump delayed $20 billion of aid and allowed Puerto Rico to be without power for 181 days.

#74. Trump suggested withholding federal aid for California wildfire recovery and said the solution was to “clean” the “floors” of the forest.

#75. Trump pulled out of the Iran deal, placing Iran on a path to developing nuclear weapons.

Honestly, there’s so much more, from exchanging “love letters” with North Korea’s brutal dictator to publicly denigrating a Gold Star military widow and making her cry, to the way he attacked journalists, to late night tweet binges.

Look, I can understand why a lot of people want to block all of this out of their memories. But we cannot afford to forget just how terrible Trump’s time in the White House was for this nation.

And we sure as hell can’t afford to put him back there.

[transhuman-priestess]

Every few years there’s a shift in the discourse where someone decides that there’s a group of queers who aren’t “really” queer and for reasons unknown decided that they will focus all of their discourse on trying to discredit that one group.

It used to be “straight passing” bisexuals. Then it was “Theyfabs” and “transtrenders”. Then it was “hetero aces.” Now it’s “transmisogyny-exempt” people. And the thing you find every time is that the people writing angry multi-paragraph screeds about how these “invaders” are “stealing resources” or “silencing people” but they can never actually point to more than one or two examples, at best, of this happening.

But if you repeat something enough with a strong enough conviction in your voice, people will pretty much always be willing to think you’re right, even when you aren’t.

This is the basis of fascism. Exclusionary rhetoric is fascist. No one is immune to this thought process. You have to actively work on avoiding it.

“Did you just call me a fascist because I’m concerned with TME people silencing trans women” i mean, yeah. I did. Fix yourself, and I’ll be willing to talk to you again. I won’t apologize for what I said, mind you. But you can always fix yourself.

I used to think like that. I used to talk about how you “need dysphoria to be trans” and how bi people can “pass as straight” and how trans men “take up our space.” And I was wrong about all that.

There’s enough space in the queer community for everyone. We are always stronger when we understand this. Please, look towards unity rather than division. Fix yourselves.

Being wrong doesn’t make you a bad person. Changing your views is not evidence of weakness. Your friends will still live you if you change. Please.

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝙀𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙔𝙤𝙪 - Pt. 4

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【Ａ/Ｎ】⦂ I’m warning y’all now… you’re gonna need a box of tissues 😭

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】⦂ (Unspecified) Variant!Mark Grayson x Reader

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】⦂ Stalking (kind of)

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】⦂ None

→【Ｐａｒｔ　Ｔｈｒｅｅ】←

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The weight of the past few days had not lifted, not even when the workers – who were really slaves – began the daunting task of rebuilding the town. The ruins of what was once your home stood as a constant jagged reminder of everything that had been lost. The streets were still cracked and lifeless, but now there was a subtle sound of movement—men and women, unwilling but resigned, hauling stones and debris, trying to piece together what was left of the once-vibrant town.

Mark had been persistent, trying to convince you to return with him to the mansion. "It’s safe there," he had said, his voice soft but firm. "You’ll be comfortable. You won’t have to worry about anything." But you couldn’t bring yourself to step foot in that place again. As gut-wrenching as it was to see your hometown in its current state, the dystopian and unsettling feeling you got from his mansion was more than you could bare.

“I can’t go back there,” you said, shaking your head as you stood in the barely standing doorway of your home. “Those women?” You stared at him incredulously, and the weight of your eyes caused Mark to look away. “Everything about that place is just wrong.”

His expression faltered for a moment, frustration flickering in his eyes. “I’m trying to make this right. You don’t have to be alone here. You don’t have to struggle.”

“I’m not going back to that place,” you repeated, your voice strong with defiance and conviction. “I’d rather be here—” you gestured to the decaying remnants of your home, the broken walls and scattered furniture a silent testament to the life that was once yours. “Than live in that twisted, delusional version of reality you call home.”

Mark tried to argue, but you became more adamant and angry in your refusal.  Seeing you this way was like having a vice clamped around his heart, and finally he relented. He didn’t like it—he made that very clear—but he didn’t push further. You weren’t sure if it was out of respect or because he didn’t know how to force you without risking something else he wasn’t ready to lose.

Now, night had fallen, and you sat on what remained of your old couch, your head in your hands. The workers were gone for the day, and the silence that had once comforted you now felt suffocating. You knew Mark was still watching you. You could feel it. His presence was always nearby, lurking just beyond your vision, even though he pretended to give you space.

You didn’t want his protection. You didn’t want to need him.

The sounds of footsteps outside the ruined walls caught your attention. You stiffened, your eyes snapping to the window. For a moment, you thought Mark had come to check on you again. But no one appeared. You frowned, swallowing the anxiety building in your throat. The feeling of being watched—it was almost unbearable.

As the night deepened, the cold began to settle in. The house was abandoned, forgotten, and the air carried a chill that had once been absent. You stood, pulling on the jacket Mark had given you days ago—one that smelled faintly of him—and walked to what remained of your bedroom. The bed was gone, replaced by a pile of rubble, but the space still felt familiar. The walls were cracked, and the floor was uneven, but it was your place. It felt like the only thing left of the life you’d known.

You sat down on the floor, your back against the wall, and pulled your knees to your chest, the dim light from the broken windows casting long shadows across the room.

The silence stretched on.

You closed your eyes, trying to breathe, but the weight of everything kept pushing down. You should’ve been able to sleep—should’ve been able to find some kind of peace, even just for a moment—but your mind wouldn’t stop racing. The memory of your world before, the destruction Mark’s universe had wrought, the guilt in his eyes when he promised to fix it—it all blended together into a swirling storm of confusion and sorrow.

Suddenly, a faint noise from outside reached your ears. You looked up sharply, your pulse quickening. Your eyes narrowed as you scanned the broken window for any sign of movement. There—just beyond the shattered glass—Mark stood, leaning against a tree in the distance, his silhouette barely visible in the fading light.

You knew he was there. You’d always known. But it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself and closed your eyes again, trying to focus on the emptiness around you. You had to do this alone. You had to try to hold onto the fragments of who you were. You couldn’t let him keep hovering, couldn’t let him keep forcing you into his reality.

But the longer you sat there, the more you could feel his presence like a shadow, looming just beyond your reach.

Mark’s POV:

Mark stood in the distance, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you, just as he had every night since you’d arrived in his universe. It had been difficult to let you stay here, in this decaying shell of a home, surrounded by memories of what had once been. He couldn’t understand why you insisted on staying. It was dangerous here—this universe was volatile, unstable—and you didn’t seem to grasp the danger that was around every corner.

But still, he respected your decision. You had lost everything. Your town, your life, your very world… and yet, you refused to come home with him. You had been clear about it. You needed space. You needed time.

He couldn’t give you everything you wanted, but he could give you that.

Mark’s mind was a constant churn of contradictions. On the one hand, he wanted desperately to be with you, to pull you into the warmth of his arms, away from the cold of this broken town. But on the other hand, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing you every time he allowed you to pull away.

You thought you were free, but the truth was, you were trapped there, just like he was. In this world, there was no going back. And the more he watched you, the more he realized that was the way he needed it to be. It wasn’t just the portal that was closed. It was everything that had happened since you’d arrived. He couldn’t let you go.

As he stood there, his thoughts swirling like a storm, he knew one thing for certain: No matter how much you fought him, no matter how much you pushed him away, he couldn’t let you out of his sight. Not in this world. Not when he had already lost you before.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

The night was cold, but Mark didn’t move. He stood there, watching, waiting, knowing that you wouldn’t admit it, but deep down, you were afraid. You might not admit it now, but you’d come to rely on him. You’d come to understand that he was all that was left of your world.

And despite everything that had happened—despite the dystopian nightmare that his universe had become—Mark would never stop trying to give you something worth holding onto.

Half a Year Later - Readers POV:

The sun shone brightly through the large front windows of the café, casting a warm, golden hue over the polished wooden tables and counters. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a comforting, familiar scent that had always signified the beginning of a day of routine—of normalcy.

You stood behind the counter, expertly pulling espresso shots and arranging pastries on display, as if nothing had changed. And, in a way, nothing had. Sure, the world outside the windows still held remnants of destruction—ruined buildings and cracked streets—but the café was your sanctuary, a small corner of the world that felt like home, even in this twisted alternate universe.

Your hands worked mechanically, preparing drinks for the workers who had poured in every day since Mark had gathered them to rebuild. They were mostly familiar faces—people you had known before, people who had somehow survived the end of the world. They had adapted, just as you had, finding ways to keep moving forward. Despite the strange air of tension that still lingered, there were moments of peace, small pockets of connection you’d found through these interactions.

You passed a cup of coffee to one of the workers who had once frequented the café back in your original universe. He gave you a warm, grateful smile, one that felt strangely reassuring. You exchanged a few words about how the rebuilding was going, and then he moved on to join the others, carrying his coffee like a small victory in the midst of the chaos.

You couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope as you observed the bustling atmosphere. There was a sense of life here, a sense of community that you hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. People were making an effort to restore what had been lost. And that, you thought, was something worth holding onto.

Still, deep down, you couldn’t shake the persistent gnawing feeling of heartache. The world Mark had brought you to, the reality you now found yourself trapped in—it was wrong. You knew that. You would never stop knowing that.

But it didn’t consume you anymore.

For the first time in months, you felt like you could breathe again, even if it was just for a moment. Your world had been shattered, but in this café, you could pretend, for a few hours each day, that things hadn’t changed so drastically. You could laugh with the people who had become your friends, share in small, simple joys, and almost forget about the twisted version of Mark that lingered in the background of your thoughts.

Meanwhile, at the Mansion:

Mark sat alone in a dimly lit study at the mansion, his fingers absently tracing the edge of a glass on the table. The room was eerily quiet, the weight of solitude pressing in on him. His mind wandered, as it so often did, to the past—back to a time when things had been simpler. When he was... himself.

He closed his eyes, and the memory hit him like a flood.

It was a warm, golden afternoon. The two of you had been laughing so hard you could barely breathe. You were at a park, sitting on a patch of grass that felt like it was straight out of a dream. You were playfully teasing him about his latest mission, and he’d been trying—unsuccessfully—not to crack under the weight of your teasing.

“You really think I’d forget how to fly?” he’d said, pretending to be offended, but the grin on his face gave him away. He hadn’t been able to hold back his laughter.

“No,” you had replied, your eyes sparkling with mischief, “but you’d probably get distracted by a really cute puppy along the way.”

He laughed harder at that, wiping tears from his eyes.

You reached over, brushing his hair back from his forehead with a tenderness that he hadn’t known he needed, but now would give anything to feel again. Then, as if without thinking, you leaned in to kiss him—a soft, gentle press of your lips against his, lingering just long enough to make his heart skip a beat. When you pulled away, your faces were still inches apart, and there was that familiar warmth in your gaze—the kind that made him feel like nothing else mattered but the two of you in that moment.

“I love you,” he had whispered, his voice filled with sincerity.

You smiled, your eyes softening, and whispered it back. “I love you, too.”

The memory burned so fiercely now that it took his breath away.

Mark’s chest tightened as the flood of memories washed over him. He could still feel your touch on his skin, the gentle, playful way you’d run your fingers through his hair. He could still hear your laugh—the way it echoed in his ears, filling him with a joy he had never known before, and feared he would never feel again. The moments had been so fleeting, so innocent, yet they were so deeply etched in his mind now.

He clenched his jaw, trying to hold the tears back, but the ache in his chest was unbearable. His heart wrenched with grief, the weight of all the loss crashing down on him. You were gone. And he’d failed to protect you. Failed to protect that love.

Mark ran a hand over his face, feeling the sting of tears threaten to escape. His vision blurred, and for a moment, it felt like the walls of the mansion closed in around him, suffocating him with the weight of his regrets. The luxury, the control, the power—none of it mattered. None of it could bring that moment back.

He had wanted to be the hero. He had wanted to save you, to make things right. But now, in the depths of the silence, all he could hear was the echo of your laugh, the whisper of your voice in his ear, and the painful realization that nothing—nothing—could undo the damage he had done.

Mark’s breath hitched, the tears finally slipping down his cheeks. He wiped them away quickly, angry at himself for breaking, for feeling weak, but the ache was too strong. In that moment, all he wanted was to go back. Back to the world where you were still there. Where things hadn’t fallen apart. Where the love between you hadn’t been tainted by the darkness he had embraced.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the empty room, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, [Name].”

But the only answer was the soft, haunting memory of the life he had lost.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

→【Ｐａｒｔ　Ｆｉｖｅ】←

☆rivalriotrenegade☆

I know this one was shorter than the last two, just like the first one was pretty short - sorry for the inconsistency in length! I'm just trying to keep each part centered around a specific theme. I wonder if the next part will be a turning point for old Marky Mark and Reader... :')

[porterdavis]

Read this again in a year or so...

So, you want me to believe that you voted for a racist, rapist, convicted felon, business fraud who incited a deadly attack on our Capitol after losing the last election because of the price of eggs? That you voted for the orange-dipped dude who ran with a different VP because the last one was nearly hanged for not breaking democracy, because you’ve been getting fewer hours at your job these days?

You want me to believe that you voted for someone who nearly every economist in the world has said will grow our debt (which he did by the third largest amount ever the last time), increase our costs, raise inflation and destroy our GDP because a burger and fries at Five Guys is more expensive than it used to be? You want me to believe that you voted for the drink bleach guy who golfed while thousands of Americans were dying a day because you had it so much better then, when you were stockpiling toilet paper, than you do now?

You want me to believe that you voted for the guy who had 4 years to pass an infrastructure bill and didn’t, the guy who promised Mexico would pay for the wall when they didn’t, the guy who promised to bring manufacturing back, lower the cost of prescription drugs and end the opioid crisis but didn’t, because you preferred his “policies”? You want me to believe you voted for the “grab em by the pussy” guy who wants to destroy the Department of Education and to repeal the ACA despite the fact that he has nothing more than “concepts of a plan” to replace it, the guy who will roll back environmental protections, strip women and minorities of more rights, the guy who will hand Ukraine to Putin and Gaza to Netanyahu, the guy who has said he will be a “dictator on day one”, because you’re worried about losing your gas stove? I’m sorry, but I don’t believe any of that, and frankly, I’m not sure you believe it either.

Because the truth is that your vote wasn’t about any of that. You voted for the traitorous embodiment of the 7 deadly sins because when it came to casting your ballot for a Black woman, you just couldn’t do it. And because you like getting away with being your worst self. And because life is a whole lot easier to stomach when all that has gone wrong for you, is someone else’s fault. Let’s be honest here, that is what it was.

So when the price of eggs is $18, and your Latino neighbors have been deported or moved to some f’d up “camp” to pick the strawberries none of you will pick, and your miscarrying wife has to contend with sepsis before she’s allowed to have an abortion, and your autistic child is unable to get the early intervention they desperately need, please remember what it really was that you voted for.

Because I promise you the rest of us will never, ever forget.

JoJo from Jerz

[deposedefenddeny]

Thinking of sending something to Luigi Mangione in prison? Read this first.

As a way of showing support for Luigi Mangione, much chatter has been going on about contacting or providing for him materially while he is in prison. However, one should be realistic about whether things you could send Mangione would be able to benefit from it, respond to it, or even receive it.

To be explicit: in the federal facility where Mangione is being held, in sending letters, those incarcerated are nominally limited to purchasing at most 40 domestic stamps a week; in receiving books and publications, they are limited to keeping only what can fit in the storage areas of their cells; and in receiving commissary money, they can spend only $360 of it per month.

Therefore, below is a curated list of charitable alternatives towards incarcerated people for what people are sending to Mangione, along with a Charity Navigator rating when applicable. Unless otherwise stated, all programs are limited to the United States of America.

Letters

Letters for Liberation: A prison penpaling collective that runs a public penpal program.

Prison Correspondence Project: A volunteer collective supporting LGBTQ incarcerated people in the USA and Canada, which runs a penpal program; also accepts funds to aid in sending resources and newsletters inside.

Black and Pink (rating): An organization supporting LGBTQ and HIV/AIDS positive incarcerated people, which runs a penpal program; also accepts funds for its various support programs.

Books

Books to Prisoners (rating): Distributes books nationwide; accepts funds, or used books.

LGBT Books to Prisoners (not rated): Distributes books to LGBTQ people nationwide; accepts funds, used books, or online purchases of books through wishlists.

Prison Book Program (rating): Distributes books nationwide; accepts funds, used books, or online purchases of books through wishlists.

Sex Worker Outreach Program Behind Bars: Directory of Amazon wishlists for incarcerated sex workers, trafficking victims, and survivors to purchase books directly for a person.

Women's Prison Book Program (not rated): Distributes books to cisgender and transgender women nationwide; accepts funds, used books, or online purchases of books through wishlists.

Also: check this directory of prison book programs in CA/GB/USA curated by the Prison Book Program to support a local organization more specific to a region (such as the Appalachian Book Project, serving KY, MD, OH, TN, VA, WV).

Commissary funds

The Commissary Fund (no rating): Sends commissary funds to incarcerated people in New York state.

Last Prisoner Project (rating): Among their other programs, sends commissary funds to people incarcerated for cannabis offenses.

Mission [Green] (no rating): Sends commissary funds to people incarcerated for cannabis offenses, in addition to legal advocacy.

Other forms of support

Innocence Project (rating): Criminal justice reform organization working against wrongful convictions.

The Marshall Project (rating): A nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization about the criminal justice system.

National Bail Fund Network (rating): A directory of community-led bail and bond funds throughout the nation, with the option to give to all as a collective through the directory, or pick out a specific local organization to give to.

Prison Math Project (not rated): Connects incarcerated people with mathematicians to support their interest in mathematics by correspondence.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

S. Baum at Erin In The Morning:

When 20-year-old college student Marcy Rheintgen made her yearly spring break trip to her grandparents’ property in Florida, she said she felt at peace — until March 19, when police escorted her out of the bathroom of the State Capitol Building and placed her in handcuffs. Evidently, Rheintgen had violated a 2023 state law criminalizing trans people who use government-owned public restrooms that align with their gender. Tampa Bay Times reporter Romy Ellenbogen accompanied Rheintgen to the Capitol. When they arrived, several officers were stationed outside the women’s restroom doors. They warned her not to enter the women’s restroom. Draped in a white, frilly dress and a pink bow, Rheintgen went in anyway and washed her hands. That’s when police entered the restroom and told Rheintgen she was being detained. A devout Catholic, she had wanted to take a moment to pray the rosary, but she never got the chance. After spending less than 60 seconds in the women’s restroom, Rheintgen said, she was charged with trespassing with a warning. Meanwhile, her rosary was confiscated as an officer from the Florida Department of Law Enforcement handcuffed and detained Rheintgen, searched her person and her vehicle, and then shuttled her to the Leon County Detention Facility, where she stayed overnight in the men’s ward. If convicted, she could spend up to 60 days incarcerated. The FDLE did not respond to a request for comment. About a week before her trek, she sent about a hundred and sixty print letters to Florida lawmakers announcing she would engage in the time-honored practice of civil disobedience: She would use the women’s restroom at the Florida State Capitol. She named her date and time.

“I know that as a transgender woman, this means I will probably be arrested. I am violating laws because I personally believe it to be wrong. “I’m not a political activist,” she told Erin in the Morning. “I’m just a normal college student who thinks this law is wrong.”

[...] Rheintgen said she was motivated to act after seeing the anti-trans legislation surge throughout the United States, and when she read about Hunter Schafer, the Euphoria actress, who was issued a “male” passport despite being a woman. “She’s a personal hero of mine,” Rheintgen said. The fear and the vitriol she saw play out over the news cycle brought her to a breaking point. While bills like bathroom bans and drag bans have been sweeping the country in recent years, the criminalization of gender diverse people is by no means new. Black and brown trans women, especially, have been routinely criminalized for decades under the guise of “solicitation” or “loitering” ordinances, even in a so-called liberal stronghold like New York. The phenomenon is so pervasive that it has been dubbed the “Walking While Trans Ban.”

20-year-old trans woman Marcy Rheintgen put civil disobedience into action against Florida’s unjust bathroom bans for trans people into action. 🏳️‍⚧️

See Also:

LGBTQ Nation: Trans woman arrested for washing her hands in a women’s bathroom

[its-cartooncrazy]

[Image description: a list of all tarot cards in the major arcana, along with their meanings. They have been matched to a vessel from slay the princess, using the drawings from the memories page. Full text ID under the cut.]

Hello I spent like a week being abnormal about this (no I did not know the tarot cards by heart before this, yes I do now) so here is my definitive list of which princess matches which tarot card. If you disagree with me then you're wrong (joking, please feel free to tell me with your reasoning, I'd love to hear it!!)

Full list of my reasonings under the cut (scroll to the big text saying "Reasonings" to skip the ID)

[Full ID: three columns, listing first the tarot number and name, then card meanings, then the princess. They are as follows:

0. The Fool. cycle of life, birth & death, hope, optimism, childish, spontaneous, lateral thinking. The Damsel

1. The Magician. practical, success, witty, at home, central nervous system & lungs & senses, unemotional, over analyses. The Moment of Clarity

2. The High Priestess. heightened perception, unknown, mystery, occult, patience, intuition, strong independent woman, unable to control or dominate. The Wraith

3. The Empress. powerful women, creativity, growth, beauty, birth, fertility, warm, loving, sensual, enjoys life to the full. The Adversary

4. The Emperor. structure & power, competitive, achievement, authority, hierarchy, dominance. The Tower

5. The Hierophant. status quo, appearances, marriage, teaching, interpreting, structure, routine. Happily Ever After

6. The Lovers. love, romance, union, soulmates, resolved inner conflict, choice. The Wild

7. The Chariot. reward, victory hard won, don’t give up, try again, vehicles, overcoming obstacles, self discipline, hard work, focus. The Beast

8. Justice. logical decision, balanced mind, negotiation, truth, honesty, integrity. The Spectre

9. The Hermit. Solitude, thinking, introspection, learning, teaching. The Prisoner

10. The Wheel of Fortune. Fate, coincidence, luck, cycles, confusion. The Stranger

11. Strength. generous, loving, courage, conviction, optimism, resolve, generous, antagonism resolved, animals (loving). The Den

12. The Hanged Man. unable to move, temporary pause, patience, self limiting, trapped, sacrifice, wait for info. The Cage

13. Death. cycle of death & rebirth, transformation, something is ending, confronting smth alarming, major change. The Eye of the Needle

14. Temperance. balanced, adaptable, see both sides, calm, solve disputes, works well in a team, mixing opposites, blending, time. The Princess and the Dragon

15. The Devil. material world, buying love, material security, mental health, powerlessness, violence, obsession, secrecy. The Witch

16. The Tower. disruptive, violent, necessary change, enlightenment, trauma, loss, upheaval, tragedy. The Fury

17. The Star. hope, new life, fresh insight, phys or ment wounds heal, heal & inspire others, help, human rights, nature, equality. The Thorn

18. The Moon. dreams, imagination, subconscious, illusion, vagueness, deception, fear, anxiety. The Nightmare

19. The Sun. happiness & vitality, energy, confidence, children, freedom, fun, self expression. The Razor

20. Judgement. decisions, awakening, rebirth, healing, homesickness, celebrate success, self evaluation, blame. The Grey

21. The World. end of a cycle, accomplishment, journey, belonging, wholeness. The Apotheosis

End ID]

Reasonings

The Fool I put the damsel down for pretty early, just because of the childish optimism, but later I was thinking about the damsel route and why it wouldn't fit the Lovers and I said the damsel is more about how they are rushing into it. And then I remembered the Fool is about rushing in lol. I couldn't really consider anything else after that

The Magician mentions the central nervous system and lungs, so I considered putting the nightmare here for paranoids mantra, but the card didn't really fit her that well and the central nervous system is different to the autonomous nervous system anyway so. The Moment of Clarity gets this spot for her practical breaking of you, and the success it brings her. Not one of my easiest placements but I'm still pretty happy with it

The high Priestess was hard to place because she's about the occult, and powerful women who don't need a man. If only there was a princess who fit that mold... (/s if it wasn't clear) so yeah. Half the princesses were written down here at one point. The Wraith gets this spot because I found other places for all the others I guess and also because "She could not find her strength in others, so she found it in herself."

The empress is again a powerful woman, but a loving and nurturing one, who encourages growth. It was both the growth and the partnership she has that gave her the adversary

The Emperor is about hierarchy and dominance. I knew very early on that the tower would fit best here. "This one is dominance."

The hierophant is about structure, appearances, and also marriage. Happily Ever After is all about being trapped within this structure, with ties specifically to marriage. Literally tell me I'm wrong?

The Lovers. Okay. So there's a few this could be. The Damsel, with the voice of the smitten? Not really as equal a partnership, as I mentioned in the Fool section. They don't really know each other. The Thorn, where you can kiss her? Well that ignores like. The entire rest of the route so no. Happily ever after? Maybe, but I prefer her in hierophant. The adversary, with your equal partnership in kicking each others asses? Easily, but I also put her elsewhere. Ironically, the Lovers was one of the last two cards I placed, and the only princesses left were the wild and the grey, and unfortunately I couldn't agree with the drowned grey going here. The wild has you literally being one, achieving a common goal. It's not my favourite placement but I dont hate it so.

The chariot is about putting in the hard work and seeing it through, and she does make an effort to capture you (swallow you whole) and bring you to the door so she can escape. Also it's about vehicles, and she literally acts as a vehicle for you. That idea was too funny to not do tbh

Justice is one of three cards that mention balance, so I wanted one of the ones where you merge to go here. Much like the scales of justice, it is about considering all sides and picking fairly, so it had to go to the spectre, who gets justice for her murder when you help her out. The spectre was written down for like half the cards on this list though my god

The hermit is about solitude and self introspection. The prisoner, sitting in silence for millenia, felt very fitting. I also wanted the cage to be here, because the image of the hermit is him holding up a lantern, and having the cage holding her head like that would be fun, but she fit better in the hanged man so.

The wheel of fortune was one of my later picks. Fate, and also cycles. Its a little vague, and can fit with quite a few princesses, but I put the stranger here. Is it the vibes? Something about coincidences and not meeting her feels similar, but I cant put my finger on it so if you can explain please do.

Strength, but of the inner sort. The Den didn't really have anywhere better to go, I don't know if instinct matches with any of the cards. I felt confidence in ones self was pretty similar to instinct, plus it has ties to animals.

The hanged man is self restrictions. I would have liked to put the thorn here, honestly, hanging from her vines. Ultimately it was the best choice for the cage, though, and I had another good option for the thorn. Anyway, the cage can be hanging from all those chains and hooks. "This one is a body that convinced herself she was only a set of eyes." Sounds like her limits are self imposed for sure!

Death and the tower have similar meanings in that things are coming to an end, and both of them I felt were good fits for both eye of the needle and the Fury. Ultimately I put eotn here because its more cyclical, and when she was the adversary she wanted to continue fighting over and over again.

Temperance is the second balance card, specifically about blending this time. Opposites merging, solving disputes. Felt very much like the princess and the dragon chapter. "This one is perspectives bleeding into one."

The Devil is a person tricking you, but also material security. I only ever put the witch down for this one, and I only ever put her down for one card lol. The mutual trickery and betrayal in her chapter felt too fitting. "A trick behind your back, and a trick behind mine."

The tower, like I said, is similar to death in that they are both about things ending. But the tower is more dramatic, about the sudden upheaval, so I thought thematically it matched with the Fury better, who is very upset and very taking it out on you. This is one of the cards I knew the meaning of from the beginning, so unfortunately there was never a point in which the tower was matched with the tower :(

The star is hope and healing. One of many that the spectre could have matched with. (I wanted to make her star shaped wound be the star... oh well). The Thorn fits well here, if you both choose to end the cycle of violence and leave together. The star also has ties to nature, which fits with the thorns... thorns... I would have preferred her at the hanged man for her self limiting, being trapped in her own thorns, but this is also a very good choice so I'm not too mad lol

The moon is fear and anxiety. Plus the moon only comes out at night, when everyone is sleeping, when you have nightmares! But mostly it's the vagueness, mystery and anxiety stuff.

The sun being joy meant I knew I wanted the razor here from the beginning. I briefly considered putting her at death (for the cycles, and also the uh, death) but I think the dying part of her route is not actually that important? Anyway the razor is my wife and I'm glad she's enjoying herself. "She is cruelty. But she is also joy." See, shifty gets it!

Judgement is where you look back on everything and judge yourself. It was one of the last two cards to be assigned, and the wild did not fit here at all. Plus the grey sort of punishes you for your actions? It's unavoidable, is my point.

The world is accomplishment, wholeness. She is as close to becoming the goddess she truly is as any vessel ever comes. "This one sits at the cusp of awakening." Shifty says. Also Apotheosis literally means climax so I had to put her at the end of the tarot, you understand.

So yeah that's that. Thanks for reading, if you managed to get through all that. Feel free to debate different interpretations at me, I'd love to hear em!

[invenusworld]

rohini

rohini's presiding deity is brahma, who is said not to be concerned with morals, with 'right or wrong,' but rather simply with the act of bringing to fruition every impluse of the imagination. fantasy, desire and sexuality are deeply entwined with the symbolism and cosmic function of rohini — the red woman — the one easily aroused, and rohini is ultimately in the pursuit of pleasure, in all its various guises.

rohini seeks to uncover, unearth and experience all which causes the loins to stir, regardless of its perceived morality. It may seem that there are no limits to the sexual proclivities of Rohini, and in some instances there aren't — as in the extreme case of rohini sun native Marquis de Sade.

to quote The Hidden Octave,

"[The Marquis'] Rohini influence comes in strongly in his total disregard for laws and morality, a total abandon into all things sensually gratifying as this is not a nakshatra of discrimination, rules or any of the programming that holds man back from giving himself over to his lust. Fundamentally, Rohini is the pursuit of pleasure for its own sake.

Have a crush? Who cares if he’s a convict felon or your middle school teacher or married? Go after it."

Egon Schiele, Self-Portrait with Physalis, 1912

Egon Schiele is an artist whose mercury is in Rohini. Mercury represents the area of life that we have a practical, tangible understanding of. The placement of mercury also reflects our creations and manipulations of matter.

"Egon Leo Adolf Ludwig Schiele (12 June 1890 – 31 October 1918) was an Austrian Expressionist painter. His work is noted for its intensity and its raw sexuality, and for the many self-portraits the artist produced, including nude self-portraits. The twisted body shapes and the expressive line that characterize Schiele's paintings and drawings mark the artist as an early exponent of Expressionism. Gustav Klimt, a figurative painter of the early 20th century, was a mentor to Schiele."

Schiele's mentor, Gustav Klimt, has his venus in Rohini.

Gustav Klimt, Daphne, 1903

I will now share an excerpt of an article by Dominic Witek regarding the polarizing and deeply controversial artworks of Egon Schiele

"Created in the era of Freud, Schiele’s work can be seen as a metaphor for the psychoanalyst method of the talking cure where drawing is synonymous with speaking, revealing and releasing hopes and fears lodged in the unconscious."

Here, the author likens the work of Schiele to that of Rohini moon native Sigmund Freud.

"The broad spectrum of emotion depicted is expressed by Schiele’s various presentation of women. The different articulations of their bodies seems to convey a host of the artist’s attitudes, ranging from fear and distanced superiority, to admiration and desire for women. Indeed the artist’s relationships with women reflected these hopes and fears. He married Edith Harms, a respectable woman with whom he established a marriage based solely on friendship, continued an intimate relationship with Wally Neuzil despite attempting to end it before his marriage, and had an unusual relationship with his sister Gertrude.

[...] characterisations of the artist’s sister invite questioning on the nature of their relationship, which at least hints at the incestuous."

Brahma was condemned for incestuosly desiring his own daughter (creation) Rohini, which prompted her to adopt the form of a deer in Mrigashira to escape from her father.

"Egon was arrested in 1912 for suspected sexual harassment of underage girls. Despite this traumatic event (which he lamented extensively in his writings), he continued to depict very young women until his death.

His aesthetic mirrors Freudian attitudes in which sex is intimately related to death, the connection between the pleasure principle and the death drive, Eros and Thanatos. Freud articulated this tension in relation to women, defining the ‘castration complex’ as experiencing the fear of being castrated, while caught by an irrepressible sexual desire. Woman with Black Stockings, 1913, articulates this tension as a reclining woman lifts her skirt to reveal her sex"

It seems as though the threads of the unbridled pursuit of pleasure weave together the works, philosophies & artworks of rohini natives through the ages

To quote Jason Farago, "True morality, for Sade, entailed following your darkest and most destructive passions to their farthest possible ends, even at the expense of other human life.

To kill a man in passion was one thing, but to rationalise killing by law was barbarous.

“We rail against the passions,” [Sade] wrote, “but never think that it is from their flame that philosophy lights its torch.”

[rcksmith]

Sun and Water - Kaz Brekker

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: A LOT OF ANGUISH. Lots of mention of post-traumatic disorder. Curse words. Mention of death. Blood. Slave market. Mention of murder. VERY EMOTIONAL. VERY SWEET.

Word count: 4k

A/N: This one was very emotional for me. I cried writing with my playlist on full blast. I hope you love it as much as I do.

💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

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

Ketterdam smelled of trickery, poison, desecration and danger. It was a dark place by birth that housed even darker people. Its soil was stained with blood and despair; of both Grisha and ordinary people. Their hiding places were for tormented souls who had long lost their humanity.

If you walked the wrong streets at night with an arrogant attitude, you would definitely not return alive. But if you turned south, and had a little money in your pocket, your feet would take you close to the huge, shiny, flashy casinos run by Pekka Rollins. You would pass clubs where the smell of beer mixed with cheating, and the laughter of drunks drowned out the screams of convicts across the boat harbor. The colors of these establishments ranged between red, orange and yellow, a vibrant explosion that, in such a funereal place, became infinitely more macabre.

If you were more adventurous, and had a little more money, you would pass by pleasure houses. With pink and purple facades, provocative titles and women perched in the windows, waving at any gentleman who smelled a fair amount of kruger, their chants insinuating and seductive. The silk pieces of these places waved like a Land in Sight flag for the lost and tormented men in that sea of stone that was called Ketterdam.

To less experienced - and novice - eyes, those places were just grotesque pieces that were part of a strange scenario. Just a bad city, without many mysteries or secrets. But Kaz Brekker, whose mother's name was Ketterdam, knew that these establishments were more profane than they first appear. Its sins were part of a long list of money laundering, human and arms trafficking, drug exports, a meeting point for commissioned murders and, deep in the corrupt heart of that city, the headquarters of the black market. He knew that Ketterdam was not just a land of trickery, poison, desecration and danger. It was the place where anyone could have absolutely everything for the right price.

And that's how he found you.

Kaz didn't like to remember that day. But it was engraved on his skin like a tattoo, like a hot iron. A damned, cursed reminder that despite his Herculean efforts to be the monster everyone whispered about, Kaz was still a man of flesh and warm blood. With a heart that writhed.

Something about that day in the past wasn't right. It was like a mysterious whisper in the breeze, an omen in the unknown eyes of the wanderers, a mistake in a painting that made his nerves itch. And Kaz Brekker always hated mysteries that he didn't know how to solve.

His cane banging against the thick, crooked stone floor in that even darker part of Ketterdam, the hem of his black coat swinging from side to side in the cold wind. He had 2,000 kruger in his pocket - the Crow Club's only money to pay employees, bribes, drinks and bills. He used and abused Ketterdam to offer everything at the right price, and now he was going to pay his debts to men who provided information, to locals who spiked the beer with water and sold it for a cheaper price, and to women who seduced targets and facilitated robberies. It was the only money he had.

He didn't have to look to the left, there was nothing for him there. He didn't have to wonder why people seemed to crowd closer to the curve of the last street. But, in a way that Brekker could never explain even in confidential whispers to his own soul, he turned that corner.

With his cane tapping on the ground, money in his pocket and responsibilities to fulfill, he approached, against all odds. Step by step, the air grew thicker, the invisible ropes tightened unjustifiably on the pulse of his neck, the ghostly sensation of the icy water approaching like the waves of the dark sea.

Those sensations were getting more confusing with each pump of blood. The physical consequences of his soul being shipwrecked at sea never came lightly, and this was a warning. A warning that Kaz Brekker should have turned around and walked away. While he still could.

The men around were euphoric. The women looked sadistic. And the racket of voices was too loud for him to be able to focus on a single line of conversation. The hands of men and women were raised and clutched money notes tightly, waving in the wind as if it were a flag, their sadistic, depravity-hungry eyes staring forward like predators in hunting season.

Perhaps in a parallel reality, Kaz would have followed every sign Ketterdam gave him to turn his back and leave. There's nothing for you here, Dirty Hands. Ketterdam needed demons and monsters to stay stand, it fed on trauma and anger to perpetuate the ‘everything for the right price’ market. People's chaos and hell were what maintained the local economy. Any possibility of redemption, peace and, worst of all, love, were severely condemned.

Go away, Bastard of the Barrel. Maybe Kaz would have exerted the steely control over his veins more tightly, maybe he would have listened to the city's singing and paid more attention to the sea that swelled its tide, and then there would have been a life in which he wouldn't have widened his eyes at the scene.. Go away.

The sea roared, the waves broke, the putrefying hands of the bodies drowned in the depths of the ocean grabbed his ankles with more ferocity, preventing, restricting, screaming that his place would forever be there with them in the dirt of the sea. But it was already too late. He looked at the reason for all the commotion. The sun fell on that girl's hair and it was as if the rays had also penetrated the deepest waters of that vast oceanic darkness, exorcising all the claws that retreated with infernal screams, letting go of his ankles as if they were burning.

It was like a ship's anchor being pulled up with extreme brutality, splashing water everywhere, pushing the dying pieces into the depths of hell, scaring birds in the air, and finally, finally, bringing his soul out into the warm air.

Kaz Brekker felt his entire body shake as if he had just died and been reincarnated, it was like an explosion in the darkest depths of his chest that made his blood warm again, his heart show that it was beating and his soul breathe.

The scene in front of him shouldn't have caused any commotion in his spirit. Ketterdam was not a good place, and it was home to even less good people. That open-air slave market was nothing new. It was repulsive, disgusting and disgusting, but not new. And it wasn't something Kaz got involved in. Everyone had problems with him, and he didn't play anyone's hero. Never.

Until now.

One of the girls was sitting on that improvised wooden stage, eyes extremely scared and that damn sun shining on her hair that shone like the heat of release that made him breathe for the first time. She was young, small as a rabbit, and her fur didn't belong on those rusty chains on her wrist. You.

That was all an lapse. A powerful lapse not only in his judgment, but in his long-tormented soul. He blinded himself for the first time since Pekka.

The deprivation of air, the burning of the claws sunk to the bottom of the cruel ocean, the ice that shook his bones and the smell of dead flesh swollen with rotten water had finally given him a respite.

A truce so portentous and so overwhelming that, for two blissful, desperate seconds, Kaz fucking Bekker felt fucking normal. He was breathing, for the love of the Saints. He felt the heat of the sun, his muscles were light, his heart was swollen and the corners of the world were as colorful as when he was 8 years old.

He felt Kaz Rietveld.

All because that girl was in his sight. As if her sight was a miracle to his torment. As if she were a curse to Ketterdam. No good feelings have a place here.

But it was already too late. That lapse made Kaz approach as if he no longer controlled his feet. It made his heart beat with blood that wasn't his. It made him take out the only money in his pocket and hold it up high as the biggest proposal. None of that insanity was coming from Brekker. But from Rietveld.

“Her.’’ he said in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own.

Yes, Kaz didn't like to remember that day. Because it was confirmation that the boy he had tried so hard to keep dead and drowned in the sea was as alive as tangil. And that beating heart was his. Fucking hell. That lapse cost a lot; all the money the Crow Club made in that month. Kaz Brekker had countless dangerous people to pay and he had no idea what would do. But what irritated and infuriated Kaz the most was that, when he looked into the eyes of that girl as fragile as a rabbit, he didn't regret it.

Not at all. Not a bit. Even when he had every reason in the world to regret it.

He didn't regret taking you out of those horrible rags you wore and buying you a dress. He didn't regret bringing you to his quarters even when still had no fucking idea what he would do to you now.

What use would such a small, fragile and beautiful girl would have? You looked like a little rabbit. He made a fucking mistake, because now this little rabbit was looking at him with those big eyes full of emotions: fear, innocence, curiosity. Brekker hated it. But his soul was smiling.

''Don't worry. I won’t touch you’’ Kaz said that day. His words dripped with venom, disgust, and self-loathing. He constantly thought that his condition was a sarcastic and cruel joke from the Saints that Inej prayed so much to; doomed to never stand a touch, to always be a broken and pathetic bastard to the point of mortal weakness. This always aroused anger, hatred, and a thirst for revenge against Pekka.

But looking into your big eyes…he felt as if something very valuable had been brutally ripped from him long before Kaz understood what he wanted.

Inej was wrong. The Saints were not merciful. They were as fucking sadistic as the demons of Ketterdam.

--------

The days passed, and Kaz still had no idea what to do with you. Or how to pay his debt to so many people or how to replenish Crow Club drinks. He hid you from the rest of the dregs because he didn't want to and didn't know how to explain the situation. What would he say? Kaz Brekker never did anything without a plan. Everyone knew that. And your presence refuted ALL the certainties and theories that Kaz always had a motive.

Until one day, what he knew would happen happened; fate than those who do not pay powerful people. If he didn't have money, then he had to pay in blood. As it always would be in Ketterdam.

--------

The moon was paler than usual that autumn, sending icy golden rays across the dark city. The breeze smelled of sea air, smoke, sand and blood.

Kaz sat down in his writing chair, gasping as the thud made his broken ribs hurt. His teeth clenched tightly and dropped the broken cane to the floor, his blood on the silver raven combined with the dried blood around his face.

“Oh My God’’ the voice that Rietveld’s soul loved so much sounded, terrified and in panic.

You.

Kaz closed his eyes tightly, cursing under his breath that you had chosen to come in at that exact moment. It had been 2 weeks since you were here, with him, but your presence still made his hate the reactions and sensations he had.

Brekker couldn't have feelings. Ketterdam didn't accept that, it didn't tolerate that. And the proof of this was the bloody state he was in. Sentimentality is a weakness. He repeated to himself. But why then did his soul not regret anything when he saw you? Damn, he'd probably do it all over again.

“Get out of here’’ his voice was hoarser and lower than usual. And, when you did the opposite and took a step forward, Kaz looked at you warningly ‘’Now’’ Brekker could handle a beating, he'd had it his whole life. He could deal with broken ribs, with a bloody face, with a broken cane, with wounded pride. But he can't deal with the feeling that, when you looked at him, what hurt and tortured him more than anything else was the fact that he was robbed of your touch. He couldn't touch. And it never sparked anything but a fire of rage and revenge. Until now.

Kaz Brekker couldn't feel you. Not even if he fell to his knees on the floor and prayed to all the Saints. Not even if he sobbed asking for just one day of mercy. Just one day. Just a memory of how your skin felt beneath his hands. It had been more than a century since Brekker had touched another skin, warm skin. His was always cold, cadaverous, wet even when it was completely dry. And that was never a reason for despair. Until now.

He wanted to touch you more than he wanted to breathe. He wanted to slide his fingers across your cheek more than he wanted to slide his hands across money notes. But the sensation would send him back to the waters of Ketterdam. Back to the sickening feeling of rotten flesh and death surrounding him, making his chest tighten and his vision blacken as that traumatic memory would drag him back into.

The Saints were a fucking sadist. “Please…’’ your voice was broken and completely tearful. Please…

That single word - that single word alone had the power to bring his gaze up to you. Your pleading voice, your eyes filled with pain, not for your own, but for his, the way you whispered as if you was about to crumble.  You looked more scared than the day he took you from the slave market. Kaz fought down the tightening of his chest, his throat closing in. Please. Oh. He wanted to throw caution in the wind. Just once. Only for you. He wanted to put his gloves aside, just once. Just to hold your face. The desire to beg the Saints on one knee came back with more force. ''No" Kaz looked at you, staring into your eyes, as he saw you step closer. He watched the silk green dress flow, the fabric he bought for you, and for some reason it made him ache more. Damn dress.

He kept his eyes locked on that green silk for longer than expected. His body was completely bruised, but his thoughts were just feeling envious of that dress. That dress was on your skin. Feeling something he could never feel. Lucky dress.

Kaz heard your sobs get louder. "I beg you’’ You were about to fall apart “let me help…’’ He didn't know the extensions of his own injuries, but the look in your eyes said they were serious. Perhaps there was more blood than he expected.

Yes. his soul, Rietveld, screamed. Screaming so loud his bones shook. Yes. Touch me, make the cold go away again. Take me out of this ocean one more time. Help me. Touch me! Make the hands of the corpses leave my neck. Touch me. Saints, this is the most unbearable thing in the world. Kaz had no idea how long it had been since he had heard a person sob for him, but your voice broke something in him like nothing else. Kaz could get stabbed and beaten and shot, but this—this was the one thing he couldn't bear. "No'' Yes!

But you seemed in tune with his soul. As it has always been since he first saw you. You seemed to see beyond Brekker facade. Your footsteps reached him like desperate birds, your beautiful eyes growing wider every moment you saw the details of his injuries.

He didn't move from the chair, even when he should have, even when you fell to your knees between his feet, looking at him with so much fear and panic that he felt his heart skip a beat. Damn organ.

Yes. You looked beyond Brekker, You looked at Rietveld. And no one ever looked at Rietveld. “I promise to be quick. Just let me clean up the blood. Let me sterilize the knife cuts.’’ Your voice had so much pain that Kaz thought you were the one who suffered the beating. Which was impossible. Because Kaz Brekker would never let anyone touch you. but he can't touch you either. Yes, his fucking fate.

He wondered if you were so shaken because of guilt. Did you know that the 12 men he owed money got together to beat him? Did you know that he just hadn't paid because he used all the money to buy you? That's why you were so sentimental? Because the guilt. Out of pity. But it was impossible, Kaz never said anything about it. Maybe he was just looking for reasons to justify the magnitude of your concern with something other than feelings of the heart. “Please… I can't- I can't see you like this.” Your voice took him out of his thoughts, realizing that no matter how much he screamed inside, his expression remained as hard as a stone.

“I’m scared that something irreversible could happen.’’ you were honest, exposing your heart because you knew he wouldn’t expose his “Please, the thought of you dying makes me scared.’’ Yes, you were scared…like a cute rabbit. His body was hurting too much to know which stab wound was deeper, which were more superficial and which caused you so much panic.

Kaz swallowed around the lump in his throat, his heart beating wildly in his chest, but for a reason completely different from the wounds and bruising that plagued his body. Kaz wanted to put his guard up and push you away, but the sight of you kneeling before him, your eyes pleading for his consent as you raised your palm up to his battered and bloodied skin, that pleading tone - And that dress. The fucking dress he bought for you - was making him lose.

Kaz looked down at your face. His heart was burning. What am I doing? Your eyes, gazing up at him with tears rolling down your cheeks, you were breaking because of him, for him. And saints — he couldn't…Not when you looked that way. Not when every fiber of his being wanted you. Touch me. Make me come out of the sea. Make me breathe again Kaz closed his eyes, his breath sharp as he braced himself. A moment of hesitation before he finally speaks. "Quick."

It was another lapsus. The biggest mistake he could make. Ketterdam was again screaming in the background in the form of furious winds; that city did not allow pure emotions, redemptions and love.

You were so quick to get up and run to the bathroom, returning with a damp towel and a desperate but relieved look. Your knees dropped to the floor once again between his feet, and your breathing was faster than it had ever been before.

You were going to touch him

It was a mistake. An absurd error. A sin and a profanation of the worst kind.

The tide of the icy ocean within him changed course, beginning to churn its waters and threatening to drown Kaz Brekker once again. The sensation was as if his skin was swelling from the cold waves, like a corpse that had been discarded at sea for centuries. And that wouldn't be far from the truth. Kaz Rietveld was shipwrecked in that ocean along with Jordie. Along with all the other unfortunate people in that damned city.

So why did he also feel Rietveld now more than ever? when you were about to touch him.

Kaz's soul stirred, perhaps in desperation, perhaps begging for release. Maybe for both things. The emotions were so strong that he felt like vomiting the salty sea water stuck in his lungs. Then he focused on one point: the smooth skin of your neck.

You were so nervous and desperate that he could see your vein pulsing, a few errant droplets of sweat running from behind your ear to your slender neck, making their tempting way, mocking Kaz for not being able to follow the same path with his fingers.

Would he be able to fool his demons if he made that journey with his mouth? Could it be that his tongue also carried his traumas?

The wet towel went over one of his cuts, and Kaz swore so loudly that it scared you. His fingers locked for a second in the chair, but your fear of him changing his mind was greater than your fear of his reactions. You pressed the towel again, and again, and moved from one wound to the next. Your movements were in automatic mode to want to take advantage of his permission as much as possible, to help as much as possible in a time limit that you didn't know.

The invisible clock chimed like a premonition.

With one hand, you used your trembling fingers to move a piece of his cut shirt to the side. And your and his skins brushed

Holy Mother of Saints. Kaz grunted, letting his head fall back and pressing his fingers into the wood of the chair's arms even more. He closed his eyes tightly. The avalanche of emotions raised a tisunami in his sea and crashed over him with such brutality that Kaz felt he might die again. And revive.

Your fingers brushed against his skin once again, and this time his chest exploded on a different note; as if the heat of the sun was fighting to rescue him from the bottom of the sea. Making its way through the petrifying waters like a ray of heat. Like a chance. A hope. Or as an illusion.

Kaz Brekker never cried. He came out of that ocean swearing revenge, like a ghost, a monster, the murderer of Rietveld. Vowing to be a knight of the apocalypse. But he was none of those things. Kaz was a man of flesh and blood. With a heart that bled every day, with a soul neglected and so massacred that it bordered on unrecognizability: but not total annihilation.

Kaz Brekker never cried. But Kaz Rietveld did.

Being touched, after so many years without even human contact, made Brekker want to vomit, scream, cut his hands off, drown himself with Jordie, blow Pekker's brains out. But it made Rietveld want to cry, to cry out to the saints for salvation, to beg that he could have just one good thing in life. Please. his soul tore in prayers. Please…let me have this moment…for the love of God, have mercy on me just now. Somehow, he didn't vomit, and his skin on his became more like being caressed by the sun. He squeezed his eyes closed even more and imagined himself on the roof of the Crow Club, beneath the midday sun of the height of summer.

You were the sun. Just it.

Your hands pressed bandages into his deep cuts.

You were the sun. Just it.

Your breathing was heavy and your fingers pushed the rest of his bloody shirt away.

You were the sun. Just it.

Kaz repeated that like a mantra. A prayer. A choir. An exorcism. But his midday sun at the height of summer was beginning to be clouded, the sea on the horizon was beginning to swell, and Jordie's voice was beginning to rise from the dead in the air. The second he couldn't take it anymore, you pulled his hands away. Brekker breathed a sigh of relief. Rietveld screamed in despair.

‘’You’re going to be fine’’ your voice was as shaky as his emotions.

Kaz couldn't open his eyes yet. Not now. Not at this moment and… the absence of touch gave way to the feeling of extremely warm lips touching one of his bandages for a second.

This removed him from his disabilities. Stunned and perplexed, Kaz opened his eyes immediately and tilted his head towards you the same second his your moved away.

If your touches had been the sun, that micro kiss had been the entire fire.

“My mother one day said that kissing the wound makes it heal faster.” Maybe you were holding on tooth and nail to all the things that guaranteed you that Kaz Brekker would survive that moment.

Maybe a kiss heals wounds faster... indeed. Kaz Brekker thought before a curve of a smile painted his lips.

[drdemonprince]

I don't think I have it in me to be an abolitionist because I read that horrible story about the trans teen murdered in South Carolina and my knee jerk reaction is, those people should rot in jail, ideally forever, or worse. No matter how I look at it I can't make myself okay with the idea that you should be allowed to steal someone's life in such a horrible way and then just go back to enjoying your life. Some stuff is just too over the top evil.

You can have whatever emotions you want about that person's murderous actions, but the reality is that the carceral justice system is one of the largest sources of physical, emotional, and sexual torment for transgender people on this planet.

Transgender people are ten times more likely to be assaulted by a fellow inmate and five times more likely to be assaulted by a corrections officer, according to a National Center for Transgender Equality Report.

Within the prison system, transgender people are frequently denied gender-affirming medical care, and housed in populations that do not match their identity, which increases their odds of being beaten and sexually assaulted.

The alternative to being incorrectly housed with the wrong gendered population is that transgender people are also frequently held in solitary confinement instead, often for far longer periods on average than their non-transgender peers, contributing to them experiencing suicide ideation, self harm, acute physiological distress, a shrunk hippocampus, muscculoskeletal pain, chronic condition flare-ups, heart disease, reduced muscle tone, and numerous other proven effects of solitary confinement.

The prison system is also one of the largest sites of completely unmitigated COVID spread, among other illnesses, with over 640,000 cases being directly linked to prison exposure, according to the COVID prison project.

We know that number is rampantly under-estimated because prisoners, especially trans ones, are frequently denied medical care. And even basic, essential physical care. Just last year a 27-year-old Black man named Lason Butler was found dead in his cell, having perished of dehydration. He had been kept in a cell without running water for two weeks, where he rapidly lost 40 pounds before perishing. His body was covered in rat bites.

This kind of treatment is unacceptable for anyone, no matter who they are and what they have done, and I shouldn't have to explicitly connect the dots for you, but I will. One in six transgender people has been to prison, according to Lambda Legal. One in every TWO Black transgender people has been to prison. One in five Black men go to prison in America.

THIS is the fate you are consigning all these people to when you say that prisons must exist because there are really really bad people out in the world. We should all know by not that this is not how the carceral justice system works. Hate crime laws are under-utilized, according to Pro Publica, and result in few convictions. The people who commit transphobic acts of violence tend to be given softer sentences than the prisoners who resemble their victims.

We must always remember that the violent tools of the prison system will be used not against the people that we personally consider to be the most "deserving" of punishment, but rather against whomever the state considers to be its enemy or to be a disposable person.

You are not in control of the prison system and you cannot ensure it will be benevolent. You are not the police, the judge, the jury, or the corrections officers. By and large, the people who are in these roles are racist, transphobic, ableist, and victim-blaming, and they will use the power and violence of the system to terrorize people in poverty, Black people, trans people, "mad" people, intellectually disabled people, women, and everyone else that you might wish to protect from harm with a system of "punishment." Nevermind that incaraceration doesn't prevent future harm anyway.

You can't argue for incarceration as the tool of your revenge fantasies, you have to argue for it as the tool that it actually is. The purpose of a system is what it does. And the prison system's purpose has never been to protect or avenge vulnerable trans people. It has always been to beat them, sexually assault them, forcibly detransition them, render them unemployable, disconnect them from all community, neglect them, and unperson them.