it’s not a secret that val could have gone pro if life wasn’t so shitty. hell, val was supposed to go pro. boxing was pretty much her entire life. and she was good. better than good, she was the best.
but then the accident happened and, yeah, okay, her hand took a while to heal and it was never the same, but it healed and she could have done it. except what didn’t heal was the scar from her girlfriend dying, and every time she put on a pair of gloves all she saw was that particular scar and you know what? she loves boxing, but val loved her even more, so fuck this shit.
and that’s pretty much how val lives her life now tbh - fuck this shit. because a life that is this cruel and fucked up isn’t exactly worth celebrating. she doesn’t think she could celebrate it, even if she wanted to.
she swears she wasn’t looking for his attention when it went down. she didn’t even know he was supposed to be famous. she was just trying to mind her business and get some god damn food when some dude pulls out a knife. and it doesn’t matter that he’s twice her size, she just can’t watch someone else die, especially when she can do something about it. so she does.
long story short, that’s how she ends up in the papers with thor hollywood heartthrob odinson.
except no one else actually sees what goes down because the mugger takes off, so all they see are thor, this hot and notoriously single dude, out with val. and if that wasn’t bad enough, dude actually tracks her down to offer her a job. and she really wants to say no because the last thing she wants is to be dragged into the spotlight, but the money is just too good to pass up.
so that’s how she ends up being thor’s personal bodyguard. which literally no one believes because all they see is hollywood’s most eligible bachelor walking around literally everywhere with this hot girl. she can’t blame them for assuming - she would have done the same if it wasn’t her.
but then he looks at her and smiles and makes these dumb jokes and she thinks okay maybe people aren’t wrong to assume there’s something there. it’s kind of cute, she thinks, how he goes on camera all smooth and suave, and then turns into a bumbling idiot when he tries to flirt with her.
but also it’s terrifying. because she hasn’t been with anyone since the accident. and it’s not like falling for thor would be the safest thing - she’s literally there to protect him in case shit goes down.
but then he looks at her and maybe for the first time she thinks the risk could be worth it.
I hope y'all white gays realize that moonlight is not only just a movie about gay people. It’s also a critique on homophobia and hyper masculinity in the black community. It’s also about identity. And as much as kevin and chiron making out in the ending would be nice… I feel like them just holding each other is a great ending.
Mature Content. NSFW. Smut. If you enjoy the story please Reblog/Comment/Share. That is the only payment I ask!
In this Black Panther AU, Erik “Killmonger” Stevens is a Pro Surfer who has semi-retired to Mission Beach, in San Diego California to try and live out a quiet and reclusive Endless Summer. One of the few Black Pro’s to be successful and famous on the Pro Surfing tour circuit, Killmonger derived his namesake from attacking some of the largest waves around the world.
Older, wiser, and navigating a prickly relationship with his estranged wife, a former model, while raising two energetic young children, his world is turned upside down when a young upstart Black female surfer crashes into his life and takes the surfing world by storm.
This will be a 30 Chapter Series. There will also be sequel, “Beyond the Waves”.
The skins initial contact with a needle is always painfully exhilarating. The tear of flesh is a white hot feeling of blistering pain, the red ache of skin a tell tale sign of what’s been endured from the consensual affliction. A thrilling rush permeates the body, an existential surge tugging at the soul as the mind comes to grips with its everlasting decision. The beginning is blinding pain, a mouthful of cries and cursed profanities as the skin opens to receive the ink. The end however, is pure philosophical ecstasy. Fulfillment and freedom to the highest degree, the feeling so great that the soul feels nothing but invincibility for a few blinking moments.
The rumbling buzz of vibration sings a triumphant tune through the otherwise deafening silence, the last pieces of dark umber skin left uncovered now dancing in the light as they are inked into warm reds and soft metallic blues. The wide white wings of Isis, the Egyptian goddess spread across the hot skin, her white crown; a throne in reverence of Osiris, gleams only furthering the artistic manifestation of her godly essence.
Ria sighed with some relief, the finality of the piece bringing comfort to the knots in her shoulders and the anxiety rolling in her belly. Religious pieces were a difficulty in and of themselves due to their nature. Essentially the tattoo was a work of reverence, a physical sacrifice of pain to show devotion. Ria’s perfectionism didn’t play to well with this nature, if anything it loathed the process. One false stroke of the needle could cause a slew of further imperfections, it was a jarring experience to say the least, but her perfectionism also hated the refusal to finish. The act of quitting.
Ria was no quitter.
“It’s beautiful Ria”.
A somatic manifestation of glee and satisfaction shown itself through the whiteness of the woman’s smile, the skin of her cheeks crinkling at the turn of her lips.
Once the woman’s moment of enthrallment ended, Ria wrapped her arm in a protective gauze before she led her to the hallway leading to the front of the shop.
The stretched walls of the hallway amplified boisterous noise. Light laughter and tense tones leading Ria to believe one thing. Her coworkers were debating. Again. The topics of these raving and not so settled discussions varied from tattoo artistry to films and even personal ideologies. All these opinions coming from a place of subjectivity despite their difference. In and through all of the noise lied this one endearing constant, which was their ability to raise passionate hell just as the sun reached its highest peak.
“Men are definitely more emotional than women!”
The proclamation came from none other than Victoria, or Vic as she liked to be called. An incredulous look on her face as she spoke. Ria was convinced that the incredulous expression was stained and forever existing from others always seeming to question or oppose the woman’s views. Vic was far too passionate to back down from a debate, and nine times out of ten she was too right in her claim to accept any other opinion that rivaled her own.
“Jin what do you think? Are men more emotional than women?”
“Pleading the fifth Vic”, Jin said as his hands held themselves in a surrendering manner.
“No!”, she rushed over to him, taking place behind the chair he’d seated himself in whilst pointing across the room.
“Your silence does nothing but help his argument. An argument that is complete shit might I add”.
With the slightest turn of his chair, Vic captured Jin’s eyes. The pointed nail of her index feathering and caressing the nape of his neck.
“You wouldn’t want to go against me would you Jin?”, she asked. Tone soft.
“I would never Vic”.
From where she sat, in the rather vast lobby of the tattoo shop, Ria could practically see Jin’s soul leave his body. His eyes filled with such a reverence and adoration reserved only for Vic. His invitingly kind nature and silent charm had crumbled to dust at the mere flick of a simple nail and now he was fully enraptured by batting lashes and a somewhat alluring widening of the eyes. Vic hadn’t even done much and in seconds she had turned Jin’s attraction towards her against him. In reality the matter had seemed so trivial, but that only revealed how enamored Jin was.
“Don’t let her seduce you Jin”.
In a matter of seconds, a tall muscular figure swiveled Jin’s chair away from Vic.
“Us men have to stick together. Don’t let her sway you”.
“Oh please Noa. Seduction or no seduction, doesn’t take away from how bad your argument is”.
Noa sighed, revealing some defeat as he turned to address Ria. “Please Ria, make some sense of my argument. Tell Queen Victoria”, he adds with a horrible posh accent, “that women are more emotional than men”.
Ria chuckled at Noa’s lack of awareness concerning his own audacity, but she didn’t expect less from him. He was a six foot five inch mass of pure inked muscle, and every inch and fiber of his being craved the need to be right even when he was undoubtedly wrong. His ego bruised easily and worst than fresh tattooed skin. Ria hoped one day he’d grow from it, or else he’d suffer from it greatly.
With her client long gone, Ria felt she could immerse herself into the Friday noon debate. “Men have a history of violence towards women solely based on the fact that we are women. There really is no comparison Noa”.
Feigning total defeat, Noa plopped onto the reclining tattoo chair, eyes in slits as Vic approached him with a teasing grin.
“Vic 5, Noa 0”.
Noa responded with a twisted facial expression that mocked Vic’s claim of victory, the tattoo shop settling in comfortable silence.
Ria took a second to cast a glance over the quiet lobby, the discussion at hand just minutes ago reeling her mind back to a striking incident. An extremely relevant and rather bothersome incident.
“And not to mention”, she sounded, “I got verbally accosted for not responding to a cat call yesterday. Went from beautiful to a fucking bitch in the span of five seconds. So yeah, men are trash”.
“Who called you a bitch?”
The voice was deep and laced with feelings of offense. It was a reaction Ria hadn’t expected from anyone, especially Angelo. Like Noa, Angelo was tall and muscular, his ivory skin covered in bold tatted pieces that complimented his placid brooding nature.
She met him with some hesitance as she spoke. “One of the construction guys working on that building on uh, on Lenox. The guy with the weird tat on his cheek”.
“Eddie. That fucking prick”, Noa confirmed with disdain.
The two men shared a glance at one another, an understanding emerging between them despite their silence. Windows to the soul their eyes were for one another, saying everything and nothing at all.
Known for their violence and extreme principles of loyalty and brotherhood, the heavily populated motorcycle club “Blood Mamba” must continue in vigilance as they thrive and exist in a world where loyalty is hard to find and brotherhood is scarce. When an unperceived threat, love and a host of other things begin to hinder the strength of the club, Adonis and his brothers must find a way to keep true to there loyalty and the bonds shared between them.
𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓
𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐀 𝐌𝐂
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒
Story includes and mentions descriptive details involving violence, illegal activities, substance and weapons use, and possible psychological triggers
This story will feature a number of romantic relationships
This story will follow some but not all protocols and rules that align with traditional MC Culture. I have no way of fully knowing the true inner workings of a MC so somethings will be made up and others will be added with the help of research.
Jesus was fond of telling his followers not to worry about how they’d afford food tomorrow because God would provide. But Jesus told them this while handing out free bread and encouraging them to help people who were in need, making them the outlet through which God would provide for others
My mother was a waitress, we live in an area that has a lot of Christians and people would often stiff her on tips. Instead they’d leave a pamphlet with quotes from Jesus saying not to worry because God would provide
Jesus’ message was never that God would magically put food on people’s tables. God would provide opportunities to help each other, like the boat captains offering to help the dying man. That only works if people actually help each other
When I first heard this joke as a teenager I laughed at the guy who didn’t take the help that was offered to him. As an adult, I think of all the Christian politicians who vote against food stamps and I want to tell them “You were the boat captain but you steered away from the man in need instead of offering him help. Is that really what God wanted you to do?”
Happy Lowman x Female Reader “Happy Falling for You” headcanons:
As much chaos as he caused, Happy liked order. Happy liked repetition, exact figures, the type to count twelve water stains on his ceiling and know that the tenth pull from his morning cigarette made him less of a bastard to deal with. Monotony wasn’t foreign to him, the killing wasn’t foreign to him, the raucous parties full of sex and booze and drugs that clogged his nose combined into an ambience that was more of a lull.
So when you came into his world, all sunshine and rainbows, a nice college degree complete with a white collar job and an apartment with too many pictures and potted plants, his monotony was disturbed, and Happy Lowman didn’t like that one bit. No, not one bit at all. This to him wasn’t order, wasn’t peace, even if your apartment was as neat as a corporate office. Your order and immaculate nature itself was chaos in Happy’s world, and the only way he knew how to respond to such disturbances was to act like he didn’t give a shit or snap into a cold son of a bitch to intercept the gentle tinkling that was your voice.
He could deal with this. He dealt with hustling dirty money, killing for a zero price point, drunkenness, debauchery, starting fights for no reason other than some punk was pissing him off by a mere look. He dealt with shitty charter leaderships and crazy hookers and too much blow that ended up with nights in the tank. He dealt with all that shit. There’d be no way he couldn’t deal with some chick that smiled way too much and somehow caused his chest to squeeze tighter than his finger on a trigger.
He knew what happened to women in his world. Saw what happened to men in his world. Saw what happened to Tara; saw what happened to Jax and the man he eventually became. All for the sake of love. All for love, Tara had gone into hysterics and swept Jax up into the frenzy that had gotten the Sons reduced to mice hiding from the pigs. He didn’t want to be like him, living in some delusional fantasy that compromised the brotherhood because he said his heart had been ripped out by a woman who claimed he took her heart and destroyed it first. Didn’t understand why he couldn’t solve the problem by fucking every woman until he was sick of it.
But the thing that gripped him the most was what happened after the mayhem. Proud, cocky bastard who the Sons revered as Pres, with countless women and operations under his belt, was nothing more than a wayward child after Tara’s death. He couldn’t accept it, had even been pissed off about it, to see the Teller story unfold until that last hug. That last dastardly smile that said he wasn’t going to come back, and none of the Sons could do anything about it but stare as he rode off.
All for love. Giving up everything for one woman. Disturbing the monotony. Changing him. Making it so that no one or nothing else mattered except for her. It made Happy fucking sick just thinking about it, and he couldn’t accept that. Couldn’t take that risk.
Couldn’t understand why men fell for that shit over and over, knowing the outcome.
Couldn’t understand why he fell for the same trap, just like any other dumbass.
Couldn’t understand why he drove to your place at 2 a.m. in the morning to watch Tom and Jerry after a run. Couldn’t understand why he wasn’t burying himself in hordes of pussy and weed, but instead eating kale chips (what the fuck was kale) and giving opinions on what color scarf you were going to knit for him in the winter. Couldn’t get why instead of crashing on his lumpy couch after a fresh kill, he was feeling the burn of his new smiley tattoo with mixed feelings as you beamed at him while the both of you made cookies.
“We can decorate them with happy faces.” You guys weren’t intimate yet. “I got gumdrops for the cheeks!” So you didn’t know about the new markings on his body, new markings that signified what he had just done before gunning over to your apartment with a fresh shirt and chocolate chips. “These are going to turn out so cute.” And he didn’t know if he wanted to ever show them to you.
“Thanks for spending time with me.” He counted twelve avocados on your pajama shirt. “You always make me so happy, Happy.” Twelve childish cookies baking in the oven. Twelve pictures of the both of you posed in various caricature scenarios that he would’ve never found himself in. And twelve seconds before you shyly reached up and pressed your lips to his cheek.
And he knew it then that he was no better than the others, no better than the men who he thought betrayed the brotherhood for pussy. That bashful brush of your lips on the corner of his mouth had him lost in that same frenzy he swore he would never get caught up in. He wanted more, more, more. He wanted your awkward smile, your cookie-dough covered hands on his own, and your hair stuck up at odd angles on a lazy Saturday morning. Breaking the monotony, morphing his counts of bullets and water stains and dirty money to how many gumdrops for each cookie and minutes left for the cook time. He wanted order, he wanted you, and he wanted his order to be reordered by you.
That night, with you pressed up shyly against his chest, he counted zero water stains on the ceiling.
As someone that has grown up surrounded by beaches and done surf life saving, I know how the sea works. Lots of people dont. Every summer multiple tourists die here because they don’t respect the sea, if you’re going to the coast, here’s a thing I saw on Facebook.
reblogging for all of us that grew up in land locked states, then visit the ocean and are used to just plunging into a lake.
All of this applies to Lake Michigan, as well. The rips aren’t as big, but they do happen. We lose tourists every year.
Same with Lake Superior. We lose tourists and college students and even locals who should know better.
john boyega being honest about the racism of disney star wars in his GQ cover story is so important and unbelievably brave for him to do. disney could easily blacklist him for his comments and have done so to others over less- we gotta make sure we support him, his career, and message as much as possible. he could potentially get so much industry retaliation from speaking truth to power like this
FUCK the mouse and fuck how they treated john boyega- it is racism. believe him and don’t be quiet about it.
Architectural innovation (pointed arch -European Gothic cathedrals adopted this technique as it made the building much stronger, rose windows, dome buildings, round towers, etc.)
Treatment of Cowpox
3 course meal (soup, meat/fish, fruit/nuts)
Gardens used for beauty and meditation instead of for herbs and kitchen.
Manufacturing of paper and cloth
It was a Muslim who realized that light ENTERS our eyes, unlike the Greeks who thought we EMITTED rays, and so invented a camera from this discovery.
It was a Muslim who first tried to FLY in 852, even though it is the Wright Brothers who have taken the credit.
It was a Muslim by the name of Jabir ibn Hayyan who was known as the founder of modern Chemistry. He transformed alchemy into chemistry. He invented: distillation, purification, oxidation, evaporation, and filtration. He also discovered sulfuric and nitric acid.
It is a Muslim, by the name of Al-Jazari who is known as the father of robotics.
It was a Muslim who was the architect for Henry V’s castle.
It was a Muslim who invented hollow needles to suck cataracts from eyes, a technique still used today.
It was a Muslim who actually discovered inoculation, not Jenner and Pasteur to treat cowpox. The West just brought it over from Turkey
It was Muslims who contributed much to mathematics like Algebra and Trigonometry, which was imported over to Europe 300 years later to Fibonnaci and the rest.
It was Muslims who discovered that the Earth was round 500 years before Galileo did.
The list goes on………..
Just imagine a world without Muslims. Now I think you probably meant, JUST IMAGINE A WORLD WITHOUT TERRORISTS. And then I would agree, the world would definitely be a better place without those pieces of filth. But to hold a whole group responsible for the actions of a few is ignorant and racist. No one would ever expect Christians or White people to be held responsible for the acts of Timothy McVeigh (Oklahoma bombing) or Anders Breivik (Norway killing), or the gun man that shot Congresswoman Giffords in head, wounded 12 and killed 6 people, and rightly so because they had nothing to do with those incidents! Just like the rest of the 1.5 billion Muslims have nothing to do with this incident!
‘‘I see you’re wearing something different.’’ Louise says as Peach clocked in wearing one of the outfits insisted on buying her.
‘‘Ching, made me wear it.’’ she groans and pulls her hair back into a loose low bun.
The bar wasn’t too busy, well, it was a Wednesday and it was usually slow. She looked around only to see Ching serving tables but no sign of Isabella which caused her to sigh in relief. She didn’t have anything against the girl- okay, that’s a lie but she was just tired of the fact that her and Don not talking anymore was not only being thrown in her face by Ching but also Isabella when she shamelessly flirt with him the whole time he was here.
She was in the middle of popping the lids off a few beer bottles when Louise called for her to come to the break room. Excusing herself to immediately rush to the back to see Louise have the phone in her hand and covering the bottom half so whoever was on the phone couldn’t hear her.
‘‘You know a Dakota? She says she’s your sister?’’ Louise says mildly loud enough for Peach to hear.
The smile on Peach’s face disappears as she realizes she never told her sister where she was or where she worked the last she had spoken to her. She nods and grabs the phone from Louise and waits for her to leave before putting the phone up to her ear.
‘‘Hello?’‘ she barely whispers.
‘‘Peach?! I’ve been worried worried sick about you! It’s been weeks what the fuck is going on?!’‘ Dakota basically shouts into the phone which lakes Peach flinch.
Peach sighs and closes her eyes. ‘’How’d you know I worked here?’’
‘‘I went through some of the stuff you left and found a newspaper with jobs circled! I’ve been calling around!’‘
‘‘Dakota, don’t tell ma-’‘
‘‘Listen, everyone is worried about you! You up and leave out of no where then give me a thirty second call a few weeks ago and you’re so calm?!’‘ Dakota is basically scolding her and Peach is growing anxious. ‘‘Jaris, has been by everyday and is going crazy, he won’t shutup-’‘
‘‘He’s been abusing me for years, Dakota- He’s going to kill me if he finds me.’‘ Peach blurts out, confessing the biggest secret she’s ever kept.
The phone goes quiet on the other end as Peach closes her eyes and starts fumbling the phone cord between her fingers. Knowing that if he found out, she’d be on the run again and this place was starting to grow on her.
‘‘Why didn’t you tell me?’‘ Dakota finally says something.
‘‘I was embarrassed.’‘ Peach chokes out and bites her bottom lip nervously. ‘‘Look, just know that i’m okay and don’t tell anyone you know anything, ok? If you want me to stay alive, you’ll do this for me.’‘ she says before hanging up the phone all of a sudden.
She takes a few deep breathes to collect herself before walking back out to the bar and starts taking orders again.
‘‘You okay?’‘ Louise asks, noticing a difference in Peach’s lack of facial expression.
‘‘Yeah, just family stuff.’‘ She simply says before flashing a quick smile before going back to taking orders.
And as if things couldn’t get any worse, after finishing every order, she looks up to see Don walking in but he wasn’t walking in alone like usual. If it were possible for her heart to drop to her stomach at the sight of Isabella walking in arm and arm with Don then it would have done it one thousand times.
It seemed that time had stopped and she frozen at the two that seemed to be having a good time. She gulped down harshly as thoughts raced her mind. Maybe he was doing this on purpose and Isabella was in on it the whole time- no, no way because Isabella was beautiful and actually put in effort to show that she wanted him, Isabella was everything she wasn’t and somehow, that was probably better for him.
Peach cleared her throat and went on with her job. Trying her best to avoid and ignore the two sitting at the table. Smiling and laughing, carrying on like they were having a good time and genuinely enjoying each other’s company. Though, the thoughts were eating away at her badly and she just wanted to scream, not at them but at herself not acting like she didn’t care when really she cared too much.
Once, it slowed down and there were no more orders to take, she decided it was time to stop being a little bitch. ‘’I’ll be back.’’ she tells Louise and leaves behind the bar to march over to the table she tried her best ignoring all night, swallowing her pride. ‘’Don, can I speak with you?’’ she mustered up the confidence to even speak.
Don, turns his attention to her and says without missing a beat. ‘’Thought i’d never hear you say that.’’
Both Peach and Isabella furrowed their brows as they looked at each other then to him. ‘’What?’’
‘‘It’ll just be a few minutes- i’ll be right back.’‘ Don tells his date and pats her on the leg as he says so before getting up. ‘‘Led the way, Miss Peach.’‘
Oh, fuck I really have to talk to him now she thought as she led him outside the double doors. She was so sure that he would dismiss her and that would be the end of it but no, he goes and does this.
Once they both reach outside and the only thing heard was the cars passing by. Peach rubbed her shoulders as the breeze flowed through the strand of curls that didn’t make in her bun and Don stood there with his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to start the conversation but the wait was too long.
‘‘You cold?’‘ he asks and goes to take his suit jacket off.
She shakes her head. ‘’No, i’m fine.’’
‘‘Well,’‘ he sighs and slides his hands back in his pockets. ‘‘what did you want to talk to me about?’‘
Peach shakes her head again and huffs. ‘’This is a bad idea, nevermind.’’ she goes to walk back inside.
‘‘There you go, running again.’‘ he mumbles but she heard, stopping in her tracks.
‘‘What did you say?’‘ she turns back around.
‘‘I said,’‘ he clears his throat and pulls his hands from his pockets. ‘‘there you go, running again…when are you going to stop?’‘
‘‘You don’t even fucking know me.’‘ she says defensively and crosses her arms over her chest.
He nods and rubs his chin as he pretends to think. ‘’Maybe but I do know that everytime I try to be there for you, you get scared but you actually like it- you like me.’’
‘‘That is not true, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’‘ she dismisses his words.
He chuckles. ‘’Oh, really? Then how come when I even just look at Isabella you get upset? You might not say anything but you’re face gives it away everytime…I’ve noticed.’’
Peach rolls her eyes and shakes her head. ‘’I don’t care who you look at- it’s none of my business.’’
‘‘You care.’‘ he says and looks her up and down. ‘‘What are you scared of?’‘
A long sigh leaves his lips and he pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘’Okay.’’ he nods and goes to walk back inside.
‘‘Wait.’‘ Peach suddenly blurts out and he stops to turn around to wait for her to continue. ‘‘Fuck it.’‘ she huffs and rushes over to unexpectedly pull him in for a kiss.
It was unexplainable. No words could describe the feeling of wanting something for so long and you finally get it. The kiss was slow and lingering. Goosebumps rising all over her skin and maybe her heart did drop to her stomach but in a good way this time.
She pulls away first, slowing opening her eyes to be met with hers, her brain empty of thoughts. Though, Don eagerly kissed her, needing the feeling of her this close to him again, the feeling he’s been waiting on since the first time she made his coffee. She sneakily slips her tongue into her mouth as the kiss deepens and wraps her arms around his neck as he grabs at her hips, pulling their bodies as they close they could get.
They both pull away to catch their breathe. Peach chuckles and looks up at him as he looks down at her as if they had just done something magical- which they did but he didn’t want to say it yet.
‘‘I have to go back to work.’‘ she slips herself out of his hands and walks back into the bar not before giving him one last look, leaving him in awe.
[a/n] this is still a slow burn there was probably some typos I’ll fix them later I’m too lazy rn
I’m not sure. Hey lovely people who have taken me over half way to a cool million! If you’d like to reblog again, I’d love that, if not, I still love you, and hope you’re having a great day. I’m gonna go do some stand up tonight.
Yo man, happy to see your thread again, how you doing, bro?
Because of the Fifth Amendment, no one in the U.S. may legally be forced to testify against himself, and because of the Fourth Amendment, no one’s records or belongings may legally be searched or seized without just cause. However, American police are trained to use methods of deception, intimidation and manipulation to circumvent these restrictions. In other words, cops routinely break the law—in letter and in spirit—in the name of enforcing the law. Several examples of this are widely known, if not widely understood.
1) “Do you know why I stopped you?” Cops ask this, not because they want to have a friendly chat, but because they want you to incriminate yourself. They are hoping you will “voluntarily” confess to having broken the law, whether it was something they had already noticed or not. You may think you are apologizing, or explaining, or even making excuses, but from the cop’s perspective, you are confessing. He is not there to serve you; he is there fishing for an excuse to fine or arrest you. In asking you the familiar question, he is essentially asking you what crime you just committed. And he will do this without giving you any “Miranda” warning, in an effort to trick you into testifying against yourself.
2) “Do you have something to hide?” Police often talk as if you need a good reason for not answering whatever questions they ask, or for not consenting to a warrantless search of your person, your car, or even your home. The ridiculous implication is that if you haven’t committed a crime, you should be happy to be subjected to random interrogations and searches. This turns the concept of due process on its head, as the cop tries to put the burden on you to prove your innocence, while implying that your failure to “cooperate” with random harassment must be evidence of guilt.
3) “Cooperating will make things easier on you.” The logical converse of this statement implies that refusing to answer questions and refusing to consent to a search will make things more difficult for you. In other words, you will be punished if you exercise your rights. Of course, if they coerce you into giving them a reason to fine or arrest you, they will claim that you “voluntarily” answered questions and “consented” to a search, and will pretend there was no veiled threat of what they might do to you if you did not willingly “cooperate.” (Such tactics are also used by prosecutors and judges via the procedure of “plea-bargaining,” whereby someone accused of a crime is essentially told that if he confesses guilt—thus relieving the government of having to present evidence or prove anything—then his suffering will be reduced. In fact, “plea bargaining” is illegal in many countries precisely because it basically constitutes coerced confessions.)
4) “We’ll just get a warrant.” Cops may try to persuade you to “consent” to a search by claiming that they could easily just go get a warrant if you don’t consent. This is just another ploy to intimidate people into surrendering their rights, with the implication again being that whoever inconveniences the police by requiring them to go through the process of getting a warrant will receive worse treatment than one who “cooperates.” But by definition, one who is threatened or intimidated into “consenting” has not truly consented to anything.
5.) We have someone who will testify against you Police “informants” are often individuals whose own legal troubles have put them in a position where they can be used by the police to circumvent and undermine the constitutional rights of others. For example, once the police have something to hold over one individual, they can then bully that individual into giving false, anonymous testimony which can be used to obtain search warrants to use against others. Even if the informant gets caught lying, the police can say they didn’t know, making this tactic cowardly and illegal, but also very effective at getting around constitutional restrictions.
6) “We can hold you for 72 hours without charging you.” Based only on claimed suspicion, even without enough evidence or other probable cause to charge you with a crime, the police can kidnap you—or threaten to kidnap you—and use that to persuade you to confess to some relatively minor offense. Using this tactic, which borders on being torture, police can obtain confessions they know to be false, from people whose only concern, then and there, is to be released.
7) “I’m going to search you for my own safety.” Using so-called “Terry frisks” (named after the Supreme Court case of Terry v. Ohio, 392 U.S. 1), police can carry out certain limited searches, without any warrant or probable cause to believe that a crime has been committed, under the guise of checking for weapons. By simply asserting that someone might have a weapon, police can disregard and circumvent the Fourth Amendment prohibition on unreasonable searches.
U.S. courts have gone back and forth in deciding how often, and in what circumstances, tactics like those mentioned above are acceptable. And of course, police continually go far beyond anything the courts have declared to be “legal” anyway. But aside from nitpicking legal technicalities, both coerced confessions and unreasonable searches are still unconstitutional, and therefore “illegal,” regardless of the rationale or excuses used to try to justify them. Yet, all too often, cops show that to them, the Fourth and Fifth Amendments—and any other restrictions on their power—are simply technical inconveniences for them to try to get around. In other words, they will break the law whenever they can get away with it if it serves their own agenda and power, and they will ironically insist that they need to do that in order to catch “law-breakers” (the kind who don’t wear badges).
Of course, if the above tactics fail, police can simply bully people into confessing—falsely or truthfully—and/or carry out unconstitutional searches, knowing that the likelihood of cops having to face any punishment for doing so is extremely low. Usually all that happens, even when a search was unquestionably and obviously illegal, or when a confession was clearly coerced, is that any evidence obtained from the illegal search or forced confession is excluded from being allowed at trial. Of course, if there is no trial—either because the person plea-bargains or because there was no evidence and no crime—the “exclusionary rule” creates no deterrent at all. The police can, and do, routinely break the law and violate individual rights, knowing that there will be no adverse repercussions for them having done so.
Likewise, the police can lie under oath, plant evidence, falsely charge people with “resisting arrest” or “assaulting an officer,” and commit other blatantly illegal acts, knowing full well that their fellow gang members—officers, prosecutors and judges—will almost never hold them accountable for their crimes. Even much of the general public still presumes innocence when it comes to cops accused of wrong-doing, while presuming guilt when the cops accuse someone else of wrong-doing. But this is gradually changing, as the amount of video evidence showing the true nature of the “Street Gang in Blue” becomes too much even for many police-apologists to ignore.
One of the biggest realizations with dealing with cops for me was the fact that they CAN lie, they are 100% legally entitled to lie, and they WILL whether you’re a victim of crime, accused of committing a crime or anything else
Everyone needs to reblog this, it could save a life.
Seriously if you ever find yourself in custody don’t say shit until you’ve got some counsel with you. No cop is your friend in that situation.
Heeeyyyyy if anyone is thinking “a lawyer!?! But I thought lawyers were bad and greedy.”