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#crime of aggression
agentfascinateur · 4 months
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Israelis terrify Lebanese children:
How many children do they have to traumatize? Imagine this is anywhere in America where you send your kids to school.
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spacedace · 3 months
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Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.
Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.
(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)
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Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.
The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.
A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.
It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.
Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.
Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.
But they were still kids.
Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.
Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.
Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.
Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.
They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.
Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.
Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.
They all knew why.
The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.
That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.
Robin II was an Alley Kid.
A true child of Gotham.
Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.
Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.
He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.
But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.
Bad things happened to good kids all the time.
And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.
Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.
The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.
Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.
Or so the rumors said, at least.
That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.
Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.
And then the news came in.
There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.
Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.
Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.
Alone.
Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.
The Joker wasn’t most folks.
And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.
When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.
Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.
And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.
Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.
But the Bat would find him.
They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.
It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.
Days.
Weeks.
Months.
The Clown still lived.
The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.
No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.
That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.
They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.
And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.
Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.
Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.
Not Robin II either.
Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.
No.
It was a new Robin.
A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.
Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.
Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.
The Clown had killed Robin II.
Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.
Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.
The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.
But he never did.
Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.
Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.
And then the Bat stepped in.
Revived the fucking Clown.
A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.
He was a good kid.
He deserved better.
Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.
Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.
It was their turn.
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puppetmaster13u · 6 months
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Meme Prompt 2
Thinkin of feral halfa Jason again. No surprise there.
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rottengurlz · 5 months
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paranormal investigator that fakes all her haunts and doesn't believe in ghosts until her boyfriend who "accidentally" died started haunting her
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Silmarillion AU Where all the Elves are Hobbits and the Stakes are Significantly Lower:
Finwe is mayor of his part of the Shire, happily married to both Miriel and Indis because they all have two hands
Miriel doesn't die after childbirth she just goes off on a trip to find new artistic inspiration and doesn't come back
Don't worry she eventually shows back up again– turns out she got lost and a kind elvish warrior named Vaire helped her find her way back
Feanor has a good relationship with his siblings, although he and Nolofinwe have engaged in several bouts of passive-aggressive one-upsmanship
The most famous of these ended with Nolofinwe swimming several miles across a lake in winter to prove that he was the more dedicated brother. Feanor agreed after telling him off for being reckless.
The Silmarils aren't pseudo-holy gemstones here, they're a set of three really intricately carved pipe-weed pipes that the Finweans pull out on ceremonial occasions
Morgoth isn't a fallen god he's just an asshole elf who regularly breaks into the Shire to steal things
One day he steals the Silmarils; he doesn't kill Finwe though he just knocks him out
The rest of the First Age is mostly just increasingly convoluted plots by various Finweans to break into his fortress and steal back the pipes (and all the other stuff Morgoth has stolen)
The first of these attempts involves Feanor stealing one (1) boat from Mayor Olwe. No one dies though and he puts it back afterwards. It still results in a lot of petty gossip.
After one of the attempts Morgoth catches Maedhros and hangs him up in a really tall tree
He's stuck there for three weeks before Findekano finds him and gets him down with the help of a homemade hang-glider called "Thorondor"
One of the other hobbit mayors is Thingol, a dear friend (and possible ex boyfriend?) of Finwe
Most of the Ainur are elves here but the concept of hobbit Thingol marrying an eldritch goddess is too funny to pass up so Melian is still a Maia here
She and her descendants look pretty hobbit-ish but they have fairy wings and little antennae
It causes a huge scandal when their daughter, Luthien, runs off with a dwarf prince named Beren
Thingol even writes a very strongly worded letter telling her not to marry him, which is a very extreme measure by hobbit standards, but she doesn't listen
Eventually Beren decides to steal some hobbit stuff back from Morgoth to prove his worthiness
He ends up stealing back one of the pipes and giving it to Thingol
Thingol grudgingly accepts him and Bluthien settle into a nice, quiet life in the Shire
There's no Doriath kinslaying either there's just a long, very passive-aggressive series of letters between Thingol and Feanor until Finwe eventually steps in and Thingol returns the pipe
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pslwithsoymilk · 18 days
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starting malevolent after being used to the magnus archives/protocol and welcome to night vale is wild.
"the dead body of your partner, who you have killed for a reason we do not yet know" okay, cool interesting, mystery
"do you have a gun?" "yes" YOU WHAT?!? holy shit were dealing with a lunatic wtf what is going on
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apatiya-ua · 26 days
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the Russians wipe Vovchansk (Ukraine) off the face of the earth
There are street battles in Vovchansk, the city is almost destroyed!
First, all types of weapons are used in the city, and then the infantry are launched.
The Russians control a meat processing plant in the northern part of Vovchansk.
PLEASE REPOST!
Українською:
У Вовчанську йдуть вуличні бої, місто майже зруйноване, — МВА
росіяни стирають Вовчанськ з лиця землі.
Спочатку по місту працюють з усіх видів озброєнь, а потім запускають піхоту.
Росіяни контролюють м'ясокомбінат у північній частині Вовчанська.
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workersolidarity · 2 months
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🇮🇱⚔️🇸🇾 🚀🚀 🚨
ISRAELI OCCUPATION ARMY BOMBS TARGETS OUTSIDE OF DAMASCUS IN LATEST ZIONIST ATTACKS AGAINST SYRIA
📹 Scenes of large explosions resulting from the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) air and missile strikes targeting the outskirts of the Syrian capital of Damascus overnight.
According to a report in the official Syrian Arab News Agency (SANA), at least two civilians were wounded after Zionist aggression targeted a number of sites on the outskirts of Damascus.
“At approximately 21:30 p.m. on Sunday, the Israeli enemy launched an aerial aggression from the direction of the occupied Syrian Golan, targeting a number of points in the vicinity of Damascus,” a military source is quoted as saying to reporters with SANA.
“The Israeli aggression resulted in the injury of two civilians and some material losses," the source added.
#source
#videosource
@WorkerSolidarityNews
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cardentist · 7 months
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The post that was screenshot: [Link] This post with the reply by catgirlforeskin: [Link] A convenient post that I wrote going into it about my gender yesterday: [Link]
obviously I would suggest reading the original post, as it has context for what was being said in those screenshots.
ahem
So Like, We Just Hate People Who Aren't Binary Huh?
We See Someone Come Out About Being Genderqueer And Talk About Their Own Presentation And Sense Of Self On Their Own Post And It's Immediately Responded To With "You're Fetishizing Trans Women By Thinking That You Have Anything In Common With Them."
let's review !
1: I made a Vent Post where I responded to a Cis Person, I made my own post and crossed out their username because I didn't feel like they did anything Wrong, but I wanted to discuss my feelings on it anyways!
2: these feelings were that it's upsetting that people don't seem to think about the trans perspective when discussing gender Stuff, or how marginalization in general plays a factor when discussing representation in media.
3: within Two Notes I got someone crawling into my replies and dms to talk down to me for being trans masc, so I expressed frustration that That's something that happens to me.
4: THEN somebody responded to That to insist that me expressing frustration about people lashing out at marginalized men was harmful to trans women.
you'll notice ! I was a trans person speaking about my own feelings on my own post, responding to a cis person and someone who explicitly harassed me. I did not mention trans women in this post, because it was a vent post. I explicitly say in my response to that post different kinds of trans people venting about their experiences does not imply or take anything away from other sorts of trans people.
so ! what we're left with is !
1: people being Furiously Angry that I would say that all trans people are capable of being hurt and that all trans people deserve to speak about their feelings, enough to rip things out of context and lie
2: People Just Unironically Saying With Their Entire Chest That A Trans Person Who Considers Themselves Both Masculine And Feminine Is Transmisogynistic, Because Being Genderqueer Implies That You Don't See Trans Women As Real Women. Somehow.
so like. where do we go from here huh.
firstly, there's an awareness. I need people to be Aware that this is something that is happening. that we've reached a point where people hate trans mascs so much that they're willing to tear them down for talking about Their Feelings in response to Cis People.
that we've reached a point where people get so blindly Angry when someone suggests that trans people should all be treated with dignity and respect that they're willing to act like this.
I Need people to share things like this, even if it's not this post specifically. because I Need People To Understand the kind of vitriol and hatred that trans mascs are facing simply for being visible At All.
if people aren't aware then they Will end up supporting and spreading this kind of harassment without realizing.
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dailyloopdeloop · 2 months
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DAY 17: tasty boiga
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sabworks · 10 months
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Penumbra Snapshot no. 2
Juno is no longer allowed to take the family portraits.
Submitted by: anon.
Penumbra Snapshots is a collaborative fan art series depicting the everyday life of the Aurinko crime family through the lens of a communal camera. That means I want to hear your ideas! What moments do you think should be captured? Tell me your ideas and requests for photographs! Message me or leave them in the tags!
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sonyaheaneyauthor · 6 days
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4th June 2022: Photograph taken during US Ambassador Brink's visit to ruined Borodianka, Ukraine. russian occupying troops withdrew on the 30th of March.
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theghooligan · 8 months
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the sheer audacity that the haitani’s have combined together is truly astronomical. mitsuya was literally on the brink of unconsciousness and still acknowledged that they were those bitches. 😏
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amberartspng · 8 months
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the lack of ronan and blue being friends content is driving me up the wall
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columboscreens · 6 months
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ravencat35 · 1 year
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Russia blew up Kakhovska HPP that is on the Dnipro River
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