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blackwoolncrown · 4 years

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”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

not

fucking

talk

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

#acab

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ask-runaan-anything · 4 years

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What did you do to get banned from touching Lain's braid?

I should think the answer to that is obvious: I touched Lain’s braid.

Well, to be fair, I did rather more than touch it... *sighs* It’s best you hear the proper story from me. Lain will not tell it fairly because he’s too grumpy which is usually my job.

Once upon a time in training, I was using Lain as my target for some hand-to-hand instruction for new assassin recruits. Lain is an excellent training partner and I have no complaints at all. He lets me toss him all over the arena, and he literally bounces back for more.

Alright, I may have one complaint: his color commentary while we work. He never talks to me, only to the recruits. It’s as if he thinks I’m being too intense or something, and he must lighten the training mood.

Lain. My bro. My guy. My dude. Training is supposed to be intense.

Anyway, I digress.

I was instructing the young assassins on controlling the enemy’s body through whatever you can get your hands on, should you find yourself in the unlikely situation of having lost your weapon somehow. And I spotted Lain’s braid, just dangling there. So I grabbed it, pulled him closer, spun and dropped to one knee, and dragged him across my back into a sprawl on the ground. He was Not Happy. But the lesson was effective! Really, that should matter the most, right?

Well, apparently I gave Lain Ideas with my “little stunt.” He popped to his feet and dusted himself off and asked me in his Serious Helpful Voice whether that would work if somehow my enemy’s hair got braided with mine.

Lain. What. No.

My students were struggling not to laugh, and I could tell I was losing everyone’s attention, so I had to roll with Lain’s silly idea in order to keep a handle on my class. I gave him a very long stare that clearly said Bro Why Are You Like This, and then I had to agree to let him braid our hair together.

But Lain was too clever for that. He sent one of the younglings to fetch Ethari for a vital skill. And he whispered it in her ear so I couldn’t stop him! I didn’t know what she’d dashed off for until Ethari hurried into the training area a few minutes later, looking all alert and worried and finding me just standing around cluelessly.

“Lain said you needed my skills immediately,” Ethari said when he reached me.

I shot a sharp look at Lain, but he beamed and thumped Ethari’s shoulder in bro-like fashion. “Sure do, fam,” he said. “Need those expert braiding skills for a demonstration.”

I had to shut my eyes and take a couple of calming breaths. Class had long since deteriorated into the realm of the silly, and I was helpless. But Ethari set a calming hand on my shoulder and said he’d do whatever he could to help us out, as always. And that settled me like a stone sinking into a cool pond.

He made quick work of my left side tail, braiding it in with Lain’s hair to form one thick braid between our cheeks. And in his usual fashion, he braided it smoothly, perfectly, and tightly. It wasn’t going to come loose.

He didn’t know what was coming up next, but he cupped my cheek and told me softly, “You’ve got this, love.” And he stepped back to the wall to watch.

Lain nudged me with his elbow. “Whenever you’re ready, bro. Show us how you’d get out of this one, yeah?”

I scanned the watching, rapt students. “Even in the most unlikely of situations, you must keep your wits about you. Remember everything you’ve seen, remember where it is, in case you need it. And if you must drag your target with you, do so by any means necessary.”

Lain’s eyes went wide then, but it was too late: I was already in motion. I grabbed him by his shirt, fell back into a roll, dragged him with me, and ended up sitting on top of him next to a student with a knife in his boot. Without looking over--because I couldn’t turn my head that far due to the braid holding us together--I yanked it out of its sheath.

One swift slice later and I was free, and Lain was down one braid. I bounced off of him onto my hands and landed on my feet with the knife in my hand.

“Bro...” Lain bemoaned, standing up and staring at his missing braid, still woven into my side tail, freshly cut free. “Bro, that wasn’t very cash Moonshadow of you, bro.”

I gestured for Ethari to come free me from Lain’s hair, and as he somberly did so, I told my class: “Always cut the enemy first.”

At supper, Lain was sad and quiet, and Tiadrin kept shooting daggers at me. “You just didn’t want to cut your own hair,” she finally said.

“Also true,” I allowed. “But my point stands.”

“Bro... my hair... you cut my hair...” Lain said.

“Don’t suggest silly ideas, and you won’t lose your braid to silly solutions,” I told him. I thought it was solid advice, but apparently I was the only one.

“Don’t worry, hon,” Tiadrin told him. “It will grow back, and you can braid it again.”

“Oh yeah, that gives me something to look forward to!” Lain said, brightening. “But,” he got sober again really fast, “Runaan is banned from ever touching it again.”

Tiadrin nodded sagely, but Ethari looked at me worriedly. Because he knew that one hurt. I’m a very touchy-feely elf, and getting forbidden to touch my best friend’s braid hurt more than you’d think. I thought I was doing the right thing, but apparently I didn’t, and that hurt, too.

“I’m sorry, Lain,” I blurted. “I should have let you show the class how to get out of that one. How about you lead the instruction until your braid grows long enough again?”

“Bro... you mean that, bro?” Lain’s voice was soft.

“Yes. Yes, bro, I do.”

Well, Tiadrin chuckled evilly, and Ethari looked worriedly at my ponytail. But Lain didn’t chop any of my hair off in retribution, and I let him throw me around as much as he liked. And I learned a fair bit about silly tactics from him in the meantime, for which I will always be, uhm, at least a little grateful.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #lain #long white elf hair #unconventional tactics #lain is best bro #moonfam #story time

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sambuckylibrary · 4 years

Text

LONG-ISH ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Round #1

want you the right way by flowermasters

E | 19.4k | no warnings

Bucky is a bouncer with a past. Fortunately for all involved, Sam is a bartender with some baggage of his own.

Commentary: Club Owner AU. A really good look into Sam’s insecurities and trauma and how that affects his relationships. Was so nice to see this portrayed even in an AU setting.

Leavin' (you) was never an option by winterscaptsam

M | 10.8k | ccntw

But its not his fault that maybe he found more comfort in Sam’s touch than anything before. That the tightness of his muscles around him was the safest thing up in Brokeback, that the smell of wet leaves and smoked breathes felt sweet when it came off of Sam.

Commentary: Brokeback Mountain AU. A beautiful and emotional journey with these two, as well as some comic moments, a dash of angst, and gorgeous scene descriptions. Happy ending yay!

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

T | 10.6k | no warnings

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. [..]

Commentary: Black Mirror: San Junipero AU. The most beautiful story, all the details of the episode and everything true to sambucky perfectly woven together! You’re gonna cry despite the happy ending, so get those tissues ready!

to bleed on paper is to create by honestlyfrance

T | 7.3k | no warnings

Sam, an amateur artist, and Bucky, an international nude model, blur the lines of work, ending up being unprofessional to the point that they'd need to end it.

Commentary: Artist & Model AU. Beautiful and poetic blended with some silly banter and cute moments. Very romantic!!

one for the money (two for the show) by capmackie

M | 8.9k | ccntw

james’ a fighter sam owns a bar can i make it anymore obvious?

Commentary: Crime AU. Exciting, sexy and Bucky is a relentless bad boy in this one, and is helplessly in love with Sam! Loved every last word, especially the angsty bits. Edge of your seat kind of stuff.

The Pet Shop by queenmab_scherzo

T | 19.7k | no warnings

Bucky adopts a dog, and she's great, honestly. She's just a handful. And Bucky is short on hands. Lucky for him, his buddy Steve works at a corner pet store, so he hooks Bucky up with the dog trainer there, Sam Wilson.

Commentary: Pet Shop AU. Listen, the pining and the flirting and the tension in this had me weak! So cute! Sam trying to stay professional despite being attracted to Bucky and Bucky being a hot mess in front of Sam. Heart Eyes.

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

T | 6.3k | no warnings

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Commentary: Coffee Shop AU. There were parts in this that had me wheezing on the floor! Very funny, cute friendships, single dad Sam Wilson making a friend and getting back out there and lovely characterization. Plus embedded art!

winter, Sweetheart by wilsonsnest

T | 17.5k | ccntw

To know the Falcon’s identity feels surreal to Bucky. It means nothing. As far as Hydra was concerned, Sam Wilson was erased. He has only ever been The Falcon and to Bucky he’s always been Sweetheart.

Commentary: Captivity AU. Loved this!! Sam and Bucky being in hydra captivity together and they’re in sweet, sweet love despite the brainwashing. Beautiful and layered with angst but topped with a long awaited but satisfying ending.

The Rainbow Shield by Siancore

M | 9.3k (wip) | ccntw

Sam works at the VA, and Bucky works for the Modern Military Association of America. The pair form a working relationship, but Sam thinks there could be more between them; more than easygoing conversation and light flirting. Is he right, or is Bucky just doing his job and Sam reading too much into it?

Commentary: Career AU. So so sweet and filled with amazing, realistic scenes and interactions. Patiently awaiting chapter 4 from the author ;)

Years in the making by glittercake

G | 7.3k | no warnings

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

Commentary: Military AU. A little self rec too :)

#sambucky #sambuckylibrary #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #masterlist #alternate universe #mixed ratings #one shot #chaptered #complete #under20k #au round 1 #mod: sammy

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arkus-rhapsode · 5 years

Text

My Hero Academia Chapter 226 Review

Oh lord this chapter. Wow.

So we open on a flashback, or potentially a broadcast of young Toga’s first murder. Someone who witnessed it actually got a good look at Toga’s face.

Okay, so setting the tone for this chapter. We also get more from Toga’s flashback showing that she was obsessed with blood before her first murder.

I’ll talk about this more when we get back to it as we cut forward to the present.

Kizuki is still interviewing Toga, and I swear to god you could show me some of the faces in this chapter out of context and I’d think they’d be moved to orgasm.

Toga’s not able to really stand. Getting blown up will do that to you. And Kizuki begins to monologue again. Though to be fair, unlike last week, it balanced much better with more potent dialogue and Toga’s own introspection. o its not like dominated by one person.

So we get introduced to a new concept for this world, quirk consoling. It’s not a surprise, that powers you are born with affect your personality, simulations, and interests. Toga can transform from drinking blood, so naturally she’s interested in blood. Bakugou’s got an explosive temper, could be partially detritive from his quirk. Same with Aoyama and his sparkling motif. People’s quirks reflect their quirks.

Quirk consoling is for those who’s personalities effected by their odd quirks are made to psychologically integrate them. Essentially press down their psychosis and make them normal. But a quirk is a part of you. It doesn’t just go away. Focusing on suppressing your oddity just makes you think about it more. And the more you think about the thing you’re told not to embrace in an effort to not do it, its no surprise Toga snapped.

Now to be fair. This is just Toga. We have seen people with blood based quirks like Vlad King, actually manage to live a normal life. It’s likely because his stimulation with blood manifested more acceptably. Showing that Toga’s interest could’ve been met, but rather than being forced down, she could’ve been shown to put her interests in another form.

Toga snaps at Kizuki again, and she reveals a support tool to blow her back. I’m guessing all the Liberation Army executives have a special support tool.

Kizuki brings up something I’ve been saying for awhile, that the LoV and the Liberation Army have the same objective. Thy both wanna change society for reasons that create outcasts. But again, something that makes them different it their closeness. Kizuki, doesn’t care about Toga’s suffering so she can help her, she cares so she can furthur her own agenda.

But the League cared. Gave Toga a place to go. But these guys, she’s just another drop in the bucket for their ends. If they really cared, Kizuki would’ve offered Toga a chance to join them. But no, she’s just another pawn.

Toga dashes off, and I again have to props to Horikoshi as an artist. I tend to hear Horikoshi get shit for ways he draws women at times (personally, I don’t agree with that assessment, but that’s not what this is about right now). But Hori is one of the few shounen artists willing to take this female character who many do consider cute and adorable, regardless of being a serial killer, and burn her. Burn and blood that cute face, because it horrifying, it gets the message across.

So while I get some of the complaints about how Hori draws female characters, I feel its worth mentioning that he will treat their appearances like a male’s. Give them muscle tone and give them full facial damage. It’s something I see rarely done by mainstream shounen and I appreciate it.

Granted, she doesn’t stay like that for long. As she turns into Uraraka while fleeing.

So we get another dive into Toga’s head. This time about Izuku and Uraraka. While it is good, how Toga becomes like Uraraka because of love. She wants to be like Uraraka because Izuku loves her. I also feel this chapter hasn’t brought up the source of that love.

Because as we saw in the flashback, the boy she was watching looked like Izuku, so how much of this love is genuine and how much is superficial. Its not answered and maybe it will be alter, but seeing this scene makes m want a clear answer on if Toga is projecting onto others or is this “true love.”

And here’s where we get the most controversial thing in the chapter. Which this chapter has been great so far, but this moment...

Toga can now use the powers of the people she turns into. Something that only seems to have happened because she is at death’s door. Okay, I’m going to level with you, this is an asspull. This out of nowhere enhancement is the same thing people gave to FT and OP for how they won fights. My damn intellectual honesty does tell me this is still cheating.

BUT! Unlike, say FT, this power up is backed by the story. Sure its not “built up” but the fact this new ability was dveloped thanks to a heavy psychological reason and not say “I have friends” or some shit, that reality bends entirely to their will.

It also lines up with Toga’s powers. Its not like she gained the ability to blood bend. Her evolution came from still having to transform her body from ingesting a person’s blood. And we also she, it has limitations. Like with Monoma’s copy quirk, I can accept such a strong ability as long as it has limits. And this one does. She can’t maintain the form she’s in forever.

So is it an asspull? Yes, but it a very well done asspull that allows to look over the plot convenience.

Our chapter ends pretty gruesomely, but kinda amazingly. Also, she says she’s just like Izuku. I don’t know if that means that the LoV knows the truth about One for All or if she’s just saying that because she has Izuku’s blood.

Post Chapter follow up: This chapter is great. The best part about it is finally diving into who Toga is as a person. It’s such a trip and honestly erriely similar to real life killers.

I love the worldbuilding and commentary on society in this chapter. Horikoshi really knows how to take a modern setting for a battle shounen and give it such depth.

Kizuki is also far better in this chapter. She’s still one-note, but this time she’s not dominating thee chapter and at least gives us more insight into the Liberation army.

The only fault I can find in this chapter is the powerup. But I’ve already written why I can see a reader accepting this over some Nakama crap. And even if the change does bother you there is so much good here, it still is a good read.

Final Verdict: 9/10

Gives us a great psychological look into our villain

Character development in spades

Interesting societal commentary

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thepilgrimofwar · 4 years

Text

Finale 2 - Edited Roll20 Log

News of Ethalarian’s death spread through the ranks as they began their final assault on the inner walls of the fortress. Instead of disheartening the men, it seemed to enrage them instead. With Vissehn’s infiltration of the gatehouse, the army made their way into the courtyard under the artillery fire from Beathyn’s guns. Inside, the battle raged on as the trapped soldiers of Westheath had little choice but to fight to the death.

But as their soldiers pinned the remaining forces to the corners of the courtyard, clearing a space for our heroes to enter the Lord Arenias’ hall, Krissen Dawnhollow and a half-company of troops marched out to meet them.

Krissen Dawnhollow makes a resigned laugh. “Here’s our end men, this is it.” Whatever remnants of her forces from the siege had concentrated here. This is where they would make their last stand. “So, you’ve come to take the Old Man’s head? We’d step out of your way but I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves after. Might as well die here. Defending our Lord. That ought to make him proud.”

She makes no mention of the battle that took place on their eastern flank earlier. Nor the death of Ethalarian Dawnstalker by her hand. There was no glory in killing for her, only glory in death.

Krissen Dawnhollow looks at Lirelle, recognizing her from her service in the Deathseekers. “It ought to make Sederis proud don’t you think? Not the Sederis who came back to rule. The Real Sederis. The one we knew.” A crazed look twists itself onto her features. “Sederis the Deathseeker, -The Pilgrim of War- Not this half-Lord of the Emberglades that he preoccupied himself later. The man I followed to the ends of the world to die for!”

Lirelle cocks her head at the crazed woman. “If you think that’s who Sederis was, then it’s clear you never really knew him.” She did not recognize her. She did not care.

[Initiative]

Mara Blazingdawn:"I have been bidden to bring this farce of a squabble to a quick end. Quel'Thalas will know peace once more. By the Dawn, I will Avenge those slain."

Thanidiel:"If you really had a shred of loyalty in you, you'd have accepted the whole of your leader. Not cling to a convenient image of him."

Vissehn:"I suppose yer not lookin' for a duel, yeah?" He grins as he swings his blades, having traded the rifles for the shortswords. He then immediately closes on Krissen, ready for the fight, swinging at her in a wide sweep.

Esheyn 's form ignites in Light as she steps up to join the fray, and to bring her weapon down upon her foe in a blaze of holy energy.

Thanidiel strides forth on Vissehn's heels - keeping up with the swiftness of even the former Pathfinder. Sidestepping and allow Esheyn to charge through as well as her left hand is suddenly engulfed in roiling, golden, flame. A vicious punch sailing out as she positions closer to the gate.

Mara Blazingdawn takes her longsword into both hands and leaps to action. Brilliant light blasts from the pommel of he sword as he positions herself to the flank of Krissen Dawnhallow. With purpose the brings down the blade onto her enemy to bring her down.

Krissen Dawnhollow and what remained of the defenders of the fortress tried their best to hold their ground as they were torn apart. Bolts rained down from the walls behind them onto the coalition but it did not seem to slow them. “This is your last testament!” Krissen yells, not at the heroes around her but to her men.

Lirelle pays no mind to Krissen, the darkness at her fingertips coiling and lancing itself out. If she wanted to die so badly, then she was happy to oblige.

Oosaarn charged cracked his neck before charging into the fray towards Duskhollow. Runes along his ace's blade briefly lighting up before it rose and quickly fell in an arc.

Isilos followed along Lirelle's path.They were cut from the same cloth at one time. Focusing his healing energy on Judereth he lashed out with holy light.

[Krissen Dawnhollow is defeated]

"Will those of you on the walls surrender?" Thandiel looks to the ones still remaining on the walls. “If you throw down those crossbows right now, then I won't use them to shove you off one by one."

Mara Blazingdawn felt the rasp of the assault, but she still stands. "Highdawn is right! This battle is over! No further bloodshed is required."

The crossbowmen look at each other, before scattering towards their towers.

Thanidiel stares up at the battlements as the men seem to choose... the wrong answer. Allowing the poeticisms below and aside her to pass without commentary.

Meanwhile

Fighting to the last man, Krissen stumbled forward with her sword. Though she was badly bloodied and could barely stand, she stood defiantly between the heroes and the entrance to Arenias’ hall. Relriah dashes up, with a quickness that seemed impossible to be achieved in a dress, she cuts the Deathseeker down.

Relriah looks down at the woman at her feet, indifferent. If the woman herself did not care if she was alive or dead then neither would she. “My friends spoke true earlier. A Deathseeker was never something Sederis wanted to be. In Death he sought redemption for things that no one had blamed him for.” She knelt down next to the fallen soldier. “He never found the peace he sought as a Pilgrim of War.”

Krissen Dawnhollow looked up at her, eyes glazed over as she grew paler and paler with each passing moment. She laughed. “...Didn’t… He?”

Lirelle:"He didn't find the one that he sought because what he was looking for was a false peace. But he found his own peace, the one meant for him, at the end."

[With the troops from the inner keep defeated, they head inside.]

This was the Lord that had sparked all this of- Who led to hundreds of deaths and threw thousands of lives into disarray. Dressed in armor that was clearly meant for someone younger and more hale than the tired old man before them.

Lord Arenias Ilithia speaks as they bash down his doors. “Mereded stole my sons and sovereignty, Sederis stole my daughter, and Solendis stole my bloodline. All my life, the Emberhearts have taken from me. And when justice was so close at hand -you- had to ruin it all.” He gestures to the heroes that were now beginning to fill his halls. For all his plans and schemes, the one thing he did not account stood before him: Friends.

Friends of Sederis, friends of each other, and friends of those who answered the call. They had something that Arenias and tyrants like him could never understand: Bonds that were stronger than blood, bonds that were worth fighting -and dying- for.

Relriah raises her voice. “I was never property to be stolen, Father.” She stepped forward in front of the party. The girl was unrecognizable to Arenias. Though she still wore a dress, she was much too strong and much too willed to be the Relriah he had raised. “Was it worth it? Trying to kill your own grandson? Your own daughter!?”

Lord Arenias Ilithia sneered. “I lost you the moment you turned into an Emberheart. Stenden is no grandson of mine. He is a product of Mereded’s legacy- a constant reminder of shame that-”

Relriah laughs. “Legacy! Is that what’s so bloody important to you?! More important than your own family?” She gives him a dark look. “Let me show you exactly what I think of your ‘legacy’.”

"Justice doesn't turn the world." Thanidiel pops off like a villain. "Those who are loved do. And it seems like the Lordling is preferred over you."

Vissehn looks at the aging man and shakes his head. He has had a lifes worth of the old bleeding out the young to survive; a bloodline of it, and every generation bled dry. He will be the last, and so will his friend-- no more will those like Arenias and Dasia take their claim in kindred.

Mara Blazingdawn speaks up. "Surely we do not need further bloodshed. We are hardened defenders of Quel'Thalas, tested against the might of the Alliance. This fight is over. Throw down your weapons and you may yet live. If honor demands you hold a sword, why not save your guardsmen and join in single combat?"

Esheyn is all but ready to charge forward, weapon in hand, but... she pauses, to give Mara the chance to speak.

Thanidiel narrows her eyes at the old man. "The offer's there, Arenias. Those of the Dawnspire make no tricks."

Lord Arenias Ilithia listens to this for a moment but grips onto his sword and shield tighter. "Surrender was never an option. Everyone who still remained in my walls knew that." Though he did not say it, it began to make clear why there had been no civilians in the city when it was besieged. The old man may have been spiteful and murderous. But he was still a Lord of his people.

[Combat Starts]

Thanidiel:"It is only because you hold onto the past feebly that this door remains closed to you. You are no Child of the Blood."

Isilos:"Ah yes, diplomacy at its finest."

Lirelle:"Don't waste any more breath on him."

Vissehn:"This is a kinder fate than ye had for a lad in mourning, ye sad bastard."

Mara Blazingdawn frowns at the words. "You will not be a martyr. Your death is an act of stupidity, not gallantry."

Esheyn nods, for it is decided. She takes a moment to regard her comrades, her fel-tainted gaze fixated on each individual for a brief moment. But her attention lingers on Relriah for a beat longer than the rest, before she is once again engulfed in Light. "It is time to end this," she says simply, though her voice reverberates with the energy that radiates from within, and she launches herself forward to strike at Arenias in a single stroke.

Vissehn spares no further words and darts in with all his speed, slashing with his own.

Thanidiel 's blazing light had consumed her left arm all the while as they had marched through stone and wall - transferring to her poleaxe like fire leaping from tree boughs as she follows up on their heels yet again to bring down a strike.

Mara Blazingdawn dashed forward and unleashed a blast of blinding white hot light onto Arenias and her allies, assaulting him and healing the others. [Dawning Glory but only healing Vissehn]

Lirelle takes a step forward, silent as she usually was these days. For a moment she seems to glow in unlight, the claws that pushed themselves out of the bark of her arm seeming to unfurl before they broke off, the shards hurling themselves into Arenias with all the fury and anger at his stupid war.

Oosaarn followed the others forward and crashed into the group before them. Again those rune showed ignited. This time draining the life force off any his axe swung into.

Isilos looked over to the Death Knight again.He was undead but he was a proven alley. "Try not return to a lifeless state." A hint of a tone, perhaps he was changing his mind on the undead.... wouldn't stop him from using holy light to heal them, but it was progress.

[Arenias is defeated.]

As Arenias falls to his knees, his daughter catches him. But not with her arms, but the flat of her blade.

Relriah whispers to him. “I will make sure that not a single soul speaks your name in the glades again. That ever babe born after this time will never utter the name ‘Arenias Ilithia’ in their life. You will be forgotten, scrubbed clean, not even a footnote will be left in the history of the Glades.”

Relriah does not let him speak and slit his throat. She would not let him have the final word. He had spoken enough on her behalf for a lifetime and she made sure sure he would never speak again.

[Three Days Later]

With the death of Arenias, the Civil War finally over. Now began to more difficult task of putting the Emberglades back together. But though a victory parade was planned for the victors and arrangements were being made for various coronation ceremonies- There was one last affair that needed taking care of first. Sederis’ funeral.

Thanidiel:"If we do this one more time, does he come back?"

Invitations were sent out once more and this time, the venue was the Emberheart Mausoleum. Solendis chose an open field rather than the fortress of a family manor as a statement that they had nothing to fear any longer.

Solendis hopes not. Nothing would traumatize him more if Sederis got back up while the funeral pyre was aflame.

Solendis smiles at the guests as they gather up once again. The Steward was happy that the war was finally over and that he was finally getting much needed closure. “Thank you all for coming, again.” He addresses them all. “Now where were we?” Solendis looked amongst the crowd and sends a nod towards Lirelle.

Lirelle:"Sederis is an asshole."

Lirelle steps forward, says her piece, then steps back.

Stenden |Some of those present laughed. But slightly louder than them all, was Stenden. “But he was -our- asshole.” His newly found freedom in his words seemed to be the influence of Vissehn for better or for worse.

Lirelle:“Nope, just an absolute asshole who left us all this for us to clean up.”

Oosaarn released a grunt that wasn't exactly sounding like a disagreement with Lirelle.

Solendis clears his throat, trying to bring things back on track and re-establishing the importance of this moment for him. “When the first round of invitations were sent out, House Shadowsunder was not able to attend. As a gesture of utmost respect we were given a box.”

Thanidiel:"He could have done worse."

Solendis presents a decorative wooden box, laying it beside his brother on the pyre. “It is customary to have it burn with the deceased in Shimmervale. Once fully consumed in flame, the egg within will hatch and will begin a new life of a Phoenix.” He places his hand respectfully over the box from Vulthaien Voidsunder. “I have been informed, that this will be the first Phoenix born since the sacking of Voidheart and I can think of no better honor that can be given to Sederis.”

Solendis makes one final bow to his brother before lighting the funeral pyre. No one speaks as it burns, not until there is a burst of flames and a Phoenix chick rises from the ashes.

Stenden speaks up at last, a more sombre look in his eyes as he tracks the Phoenix. “Our family gained the right to rule by avenging the death of a Phoenix. Today, through blood, fire, and the birthing of a Phoenix. The Emberhearts have earned it once more.” He looks into the fire, at the remains of the man before him. “Thank you Uncle. For your service, for your sacrifices, and your friends.”

And so the time of Tyrants had finally come to an end. For now at least.

[Epilogue]

Judereth Swiftquiver never got used to her title or station as a Lady, always opting to speak with her subjects directly when she had the chance. With her lowborn origins, she quickly became popular amongst her new peasantry who saw her less akin to a new tyrant, but as one of them, and worthy of their trust.

Nelio Goodember continued handling the books of Shalemarch. Though Judereth kept him on a short leash, she was assured that he was at least loyal. Mostly due to the fact that she had relocated him at a cabin at the border where he could easily escape- But for one reason or another, never did. His help turned out to be invaluable in repaying the Emberglades’ debts, justifying to Solendis that Judereth’s gamble was a good one in the end.

[Westheath]

Following the Civil War, Relriah Illithia took control of Westheath and kept her promise to herself, wiping out all mention of her father from the history books. Between being the sole surviving child of Arenias and her popular support during the war, there was little opposition to this.

After having her life steered by the men and women in her life, she finally took control of her own destiny. Choosing to leave Solendis, she set up her own court upon the ruins of her father’s fortress. Ruling with the centuries of her time as a court lady to draw from.

[The Broken Bulwark]

Disowned by her father Zarannis, took on leadership of the Bulwark under the name of House Galewing, in homage to the Kestrels Lodge of her service. With the survivors of the Black Banner, she began rebuilding her holdings and though it may take many years to come before it even resembled itself prior to the wars that ravaged it- It was a start.

In memory of her time with the Hawk Tribe of her youth and receiving support from the Unwelcomed, Lady Galewing offered free passage and rights for them to settle in her lands. Repaying her many debts to the ones she who had kept her safe during the Phoenix Wars.

[The Cloudrend Glades]

As the news of the Civil War’s end, Mediea Wintergale’s health began to take a turn for the worse. It was as if the old man had finally seen fit to let go of power- now that his family was safe and none had come to punish them for what crimes he may have committed in the past. He stepped down for his daughter, and retired to a small cabin by a lakeside.

Succeeded by Illsei Wintergale, together with her sister Zarannis, they ruled their provinces well in the years that followed. And when Mediea finally breathed his last, both of them were welcome to sit by his bedside holding his hands as he passed.

With Mediea Wintergale died the last of Mereded’s generation as well as the grudges and sins that cursed it. But though it was an ending of an era for the Emberglades, it also meant the beginning of another.

[-Fin-]

#epilogue #roll20

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inthefallofasparrow · 4 years

Link

Article via Medium

“I was a police officer for nearly ten years and I was a bastard. We all were.”

“This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.”

“But enough is enough.”

“The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.”

“American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

Article via Medium

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“WHY AM I WRITING THIS