safer streets

Trans Montparnasse

19th Century Trans Man Montparnasse. My favourite Head canon- and it could be canon. 

  • ‘Effeminate’ and ‘graceful’? Really come one 
  • ‘Slender waist, hips like a woman’- ‘pretty face, cherry-lips, glossy dark hair’  Do I need to say more 
  • Born Female and therefore unable to do most jobs, their parents abandoned them in Montparnasse.
  • He can only scavenge boys clothes, until he is lifted by Patron Minette, who are enchanted by his wit and fierce nature.
  • They clothe him, teach him how to pick locks, steal, flirt, sleight of hand. All of the trade.
  • They rename him Montparnasse, where he was found.  
  • It’s safer on the streets to be male.
  • The bigger your name is, the less likely people are wanting to give you a hard time, so he built himself up to be a monster. 
  • ‘Men can wear corsets too Babet Lord above shut your face and lace me’
  • He quickly found out that nothing in life was fair, and to get what you deserve you have to take it, fight for it. Which is why he cannot quite hate people like Enjolras. 
  • As much as he loathed to be considered a weak female, his physical state meant that he could do a lot more undercover work.
  • Another reason he would sympathize with Eponine, and admire her, safeguard her.

I could go on. And on. Trans Montparnasse is extremely possible, alongside his mirror of Trans Enjolras. 

Michael Jackson cast 80 members of the Los Angeles’ Crips and Bloods for the music video “Beat It” in hopes to foster peace between them. 

…did it work??

The short answer is no.

The long answer is that it introduced the idea of a truce in the minds of younger gang members on both sides. They grew up to lead both the 1988 peace summit (which included a brief ceasefire) and the 1992 truce. The truce, and the Rodney King Riots which coincidentally started the very next day, fundamentally changed gang life in LA, making the streets safer, dropping the murder rate, and increasing illegal drug profits for about a decade.

He was fucking wonderful and did wonderful things for people without ever asking for credit for it.

Photo: Michael and some Crips!

MJ is a great example of how black celebrities try to use their opportunities and fame to help the black community. I want modern black artists to act like him. 

#BlackExcellence #BlackPride


With Trump looming, LA just made it safer for immigrant street vendors to do their jobs

  • This week, Los Angeles lawmakers took a major step towards protectin gimmigrant street vendors.
  • Such vendors had been at risk of facing misdemeanor charges for selling food or other goods on the sidewalk, according to the Los Angeles Times. 
  • And for someone who is undocumented, criminal charges come with the threat of possible deportation. 
  • But that risk is gone, thanks to new measures from the city’s lawmakers.
  • On Tuesday, the city council moved forward with a plan to decriminalize street vending and will create rules that will eventually allow for legal permits for vendors. Read more

follow @the-movemnt


these are some vigilante starters in the pov of city street people, categorized in the forms of negative, positive and neutral.


❝ This is a job for the police, not a mutant monster. ❞
❝ Why doesn’t she/he let the police handle it! ❞
❝ He/she/they is always getting in the way of police work! ❞
❝ I don’t think we feel protected with a monster on the loose! ❞
❝ That’s no hero. That’s someone looking for attention. ❞
❝ That is no hero! She/he needs to be behind the bars! ❞
❝ This superhero person just gets away with all these crimes! ❞
❝ I don’t like the idea of someone flying about the city. ❞
❝ Why haven’t they captured this person yet? ❞
❝ I think this ’ hero ’ ought to turn themselves in! ❞
❝ You aren’t no hero. You are just another criminal. ❞
❝ Who gave them the right to law into their own hands? ❞
❝ Why is the ’ hero ’ so privileged? ❞
❝ I’ve had enough of this city’s crazy vigilante! ❞
❝ I want justice to be brought and served to this masked person! ❞
❝ I can’t believe people actually think this is a hero. ❞
❝ Oh, so, we can take justice and law into our own hands now? ❞
❝ This ’ hero ’ is a bad influence on our children. ❞
❝ I don’t want my children looking up to some criminal! ❞
❝ This hero has proved that this city is going to fall to anarchy. ❞
❝ Whoever they are, they just need to go back to wherever they came from. ❞ 


❝ I think they’re doing some good for our city. ❞
❝ No offense, but, they’re doing a lot more than the police ever did. ❞
❝ Yeah and that superhero has saved my life countless times! ❞
❝ They’re not a criminal, the police like working with them. ❞
❝ I’ll have you know the police would be lost without them. ❞
❝ Hey, I kind of like this new superhero guy/girl. ❞
❝ Our city needs this kind of hero, have you seen the criminals lately? ❞
❝ I think what you’re doing here, superhero, is good. ❞
❝ You only ever see the bad in anything, never the good. ❞
❝ What do you likes o much about this vigilante anyways? ❞
❝ They have saved a lot more lives than anyone else could of saved. ❞
❝ So what? The police have an extra hand with things? It’s good!  ❞
❝ I used to never read the paper, until our superhero came along. ❞
❝ I watch the news everyday just to the masked hero. ❞
❝ You know, they saved my life once. Just remember that. ❞
❝ What’s so bad about breaking minor crimes to stop someone? ❞
❝ I’m not saying they aren’t at fault sometimes but they are good. ❞
❝ This ’ hero ’ is the best thing to ever happen to this city! ❞
❝ I’m kind of a fan of the hero flying about our city. ❞
❝ I feel much safer walker the streets with our new hero at large. ❞
❝ The day this city’s hero leaves, is the day I leave. ❞


❝ Anyways, have you seen/heard about our new profound hero? ❞
❝ Why does he/she/they have to be all dressed up for anyway? ❞
❝ I really like the suit they fly around in. It’s nice. ❞
❝ So, is that tights your wearing or what is that? ❞
❝ I just wanted to say, I’ve always wanted you to save my life. ❞
❝ What’s this suit made of? Did you make this yourself? ❞
❝ Hey, just throwing it out, if you ever need a sidekick one day.. ❞
❝ Do me a favor and never save my life ever again! ❞
❝ Don’t you have a life to be saving somewhere? ❞
❝ What is that? What was that? Wait.. is that? A person? ❞
❝ My city has a flying superhero or something, you’ll get used to that. ❞ 
❝ You totally have a crush on that superhero person. ❞
❝ This is kind of like a movie or something, isn’t it? ❞
❝ Why is that superhero person hellbent on hiding their  identity? ❞
❝ Maybe that superhero kills people at night, like serial killer. ❞
❝ Whenever I grow up, I want to be just her/him/they. ❞
❝ Wait, wait.. I just wanted to ask.. could I have your autograph? ❞
❝ How do you ever get used to living with a flying person in the city? ❞
❝ Have you seen the news lately? That superhero is all over it. ❞
❝ I want to follow the superhero, see where they go, find out who they are. ❞
❝ Let’s go on a mission to discover who this masked helper is, yeah? ❞

anonymous asked:

Missing scene: Maggie and James being badasses and saving people

She’s stepped over the body of a dead officer – killed right in front of her eyes.

She knows his kids.

She knows his mother.

She’ll wind up being the one to knock on her mother’s door and tell her that her son died protecting her. Protecting all of them.

She knows his kids, and she knows his mother, and she stepped over his body and took his gun and shot to kill.

She’d fought her way to the bar.

Fought her way past streams of high school kids that she guided into a hidden basement, using all her ammo – his ammo – to protect them.

Fought her way over dead bodies and broken bones and fire, fire, fire.

Fought her way to get to Alex Danvers.

To get home.

Home, which tastes like Alex’s lips and smells like Alex’s body lotion.

Home, which feels like the embrace of Alex’s arms and sounds like Alex’s voice.

Home, which is… Alex.

But too soon, too soon, she and James compare notes on the streets outside.

Too soon, they look into each other’s eyes and know that they’ll burst if they can’t get back out there. 

She knows Alex must be bursting, too. 

She knows Alex thinks Maggie would be better suited to the whole command thing than she is.

She knows Alex is wrong, because she is expendable.

Alex is not.

So she draws her in for a long, heated kiss – a long, heated kiss punctuated with I love you, with be safe, with I’ll see you soon, with we’ll name her Gertrude – and she sets back into the streets with Guardian. 

With James.

A man she’d been told to hunt.

A man who’s now one of the closest friends she’s ever had.

A man who’s now watching her back as she sprints out of the alleyway, across the street, because there’s a teenager, alone, terrified, trying to fight. 

Maggie fights for them. James points them in the direction of safety. 

They pull Maggie into a random hug. Maggie holds her glock out to the side so he doesn’t accidentally set it off. She hugs him back with one arm.

James watches her as the kid retreats, safely, safely, safely.

“I don’t like you being out here with only that little gun,” he tells her.

“I don’t like you being out here with only that little armor,” she retorts, and she hears him chuckle even as he slams his shield down in front of her, blocking a blast of Daxamite bullets.

“I owe you, Guardian,” she shouts as they fight back to back, Maggie immediately assessing the weaknesses in Daxamite armor, the soft spots, the spots she won’t shatter her bones trying to hit.

She hears it before he does: a Daxamite weapon reloading.

She throws herself into his body, and they both tumble onto the ground. 

The heat of fire passes over their heads, and James grunts as he slams his shield into the helmet of the soldier Maggie’d just saved him from.

“I think we’re square now,” he shouts, and she grins briefly before sobering.

“We need to get to the school, James,” she calls to him, and he nods once, and she leads the way.

They find the kids from National City Elementary huddled in an inadequately protected lunchroom, and Maggie helps the teachers carry the most scared, the most injured, with one arm while she helps James shoot with the other.

She murmurs soothing words to the six year old clinging to her hip, to her chest, to her shoulders, telling them to close their eyes, not to look, even as she rotates over her other shoulder and shoots, shoots, shoots.

She clicks out of ammo and her body, not her bullets, become the children’s shield as she shepherds them into a safer bunker across the street, as James and the suit Winn made him pull overtime, absorbing bullets and discharging lead dust.

Only once does she lose sight of him, and it’s one of the most terrifying moments of her life.

She sets down the children – all safe now, all safe – and she screams his name, praying, praying, not to find him on the ground, not to find him somehow bleeding underneath all that armor.

And sure enough, he’s on his knees.

Conscious, awake. Alive.

But on his knees.

Images of Alex floating in that tank shriek into her brain, and she sees red.

She doesn’t know where she gets the shotgun from – she doesn’t look which dead comrade she’s picking it off from this time – she just knows that she’s hoisting it, cocking, shooting.

Once, twice, three, four times.

Enough to get the two Daxamite soldiers that had forced James onto his knees onto theirs.

“Winn was right,” James breathes by way of thank you.

“About what?” Maggie asks, breathless and bruised.

“Alex Danvers would never date someone who doesn’t own a firearm. Or how to use whatever she finds on the street.”

“Alex Danvers is a classy woman,” Maggie counters with a grin as they set off down the street at a jog, sticking to the shadows and looking for the next group to rescue.

James will tell everyone later – when the dust settles, when the bodies are buried, when the survivors have hugged and kissed and cried – that he and Maggie made a great team.

Alex’s eyes will shine and she’ll brag for weeks to anyone who’ll listen about how her girlfriend can keep up with a superhero in a war zone.

Pam in HR has never been more irritated with her; she has enough paperwork to file without the triplicate forms securing James Olsen’s confidential “secret” identity that are suddenly flooding her office.

But at least, she thinks, her team is alive for her to be irritated with.

There’s always, at least, that.

Jason Todd is probably really loved by the poor stressed parents of the slums bc he makes it safer for them to walk home in the middle of the night after they get of their shift and let’s them worry just a little bit less about their kids being harassed by gang members and drug dealers.
Little old grannies probably give him small bags of cookies when they see him patrolling.
Small children probably develop crushes on him.

Seriously though, why don’t we worship her more?

Not because she’s graceful and gorgeous (although she’s hella both), but because she is the absolute epitome of what a modern queen should be.

◘ We need another revolution in the Arab world. We need an education revolution. If there’s one thing we need to focus on, it’s redesigning our educational systems.

◘ When you educate a girl, you kick-start a cycle of success. It makes economic sense. It makes social sense. It makes moral sense. But, it seems, it’s not common sense yet.

◘ A woman caring for her children; a woman striving to excel in the private sector; a woman partnering with her neighbors to make their street safer; a woman running for office to improve her country - they all have something to offer, and the more our societies empower women, the more we receive in return.

◘ I have nothing against the veil. And I think that, wrongly, many in the West look at the veil as a symbol of oppression. Now, as long as a woman chooses to wear the veil, because that’s her belief and because of her own - that’s a personal relationship with God, so she should be free to dress in whichever way she wants.

◘ We shouldn’t judge people through the prism of our own stereotypes.

◘ I work in areas related to child protection and family safety, women’s empowerment, the creation of opportunities for youth, and culture and tourism. Daunting? Yes. Impossible? No. In fact, such challenges energize me.

◘ Well, my husband is supportive of my work, like advocating for dialogue between cultures on YouTube.

◘ Holy scripture does not hold women back. It’s the people that decide to interpret it in such a way for their own, sometimes political, agendas.

◘ Of course, I tweet. Tweeting is a very personal form of expression. Who else could talk about my son refusing to wear a suit to meet the Pope, my husband flying a helicopter, or take a twitpic from our home?

◘ Twitter’s a great way to tell people across the world what I care about and, hopefully, motivate them to join me in furthering my causes.

-Queen Rania of Jordan


Sadly, not really… The only major safe places we have are with others, but staying with them would get them thrown in jail. We’ve got an idea of a place that’s safer than the streets, but the issue there is finding a way into it

There’s an outer building we should have access to just fine but staying hidden (and thus, safer) will be a problem, while the two larger buildings don’t have any specific openings we can use (they tried patching them all last year and afawk they succeeded). We’ve made our own before so that one might not be an issue… But still, it’s worrisome

But as for staying safe in general, we’ll do our best .w.’


Little Dumpster Treasure

pairing: krisho

genre: catboy! au, romance, hurt/comfort

warnings: hybrids used as pleasure slaves, mentions of abuse

rated: NC17

summary: Checking into meowing dumpsters can be lifechanging. Kris learns this the kitty way.

A/N: basically just me wondering how it would be like if Joon was the homeless kitty and Kris the human who rescues him. and if no one spots the finging nemo reference I’m going to be so mad, and apparently I have an affinity to make fun of Kris’ dick. not even sorry.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

FAO Friday: What are three things you would consider yourself to be very good at, and what are three things you would consider yourself to be very bad at?

         “…what am I…good at..?” Stoic as he seemed, Tyrone’s voice betrayed a subtle bewilderment in the face of such a question. His jaw firmed, and he shook his head, “…I’ve never been ‘very good’ at… well, anything. Except…” His gaze dropped to the shadowy folds of his Cloak, “…except perhaps banishing thugs and criminals to the darkforce realm inside me…” And that was hardly something to be proud of, no matter that it made the streets safer. 

           Ty knew Tandy would disagree, that she’d find some light in the darkness and attribute a whole host of virtues to him. But that was what made her such a good person, and why Cloak would sacrifice all that he was in order to preserve that shining goodness inside her. 

                   So… maybe there was one positive thing he could do with his life.

          “As for being bad at something, well…” Ty’s lips twisting sardonically  “– where do I start…”


“Well I hope they did some research and signed all the waivers first. This school is very unusual. There is a lot to learn that I did not expect, like the effects of time travel on a living body, or how to evade the landscaping when it comes alive and tries to eat you.” Jia wasn’t oblivious to the sarcasm that had been dripping off of her unwilling companion, but she wasn’t gonna let that stop her.

       “ THEY’RE DEAD. ”  He states simply.  The words don’t sting how they used to when he was younger.  The list the girl goes through simply gains a raised brow.   It seems I would have been safer living on the streets instead of a death trap.  The school was out to kill them, that was good to know. He’d always been a survivor.  So what are the effects of time travel on the body?

anonymous asked:

Imagine Clint being a street kid needing to take care of a younger Pietro and Wanda.

The twins are only ten, and even Clint knows that’s too young to be living alone, but Pietro just lifts his chin defiantly when Clint offers to take them to a shelter.  “American streets safer than Sokovian orphanage,” he says, so Clint shrugs and drops the subject.  It’s not like he’s ever been in a war zone to find out–he’s a fifteen-year-old ex-carnie homeless kid, not a soldier–but he figures they probably know what they’re talking about.

Anyway, it’s nice to have the company.  In the circus, he’d gotten used to living out of other peoples’ pockets, always up in someone else’s space, sleeping in cramped trailers and listening to the adults tell stories of the places they’d been, the people they’d seen.  He misses it fiercely, the light and the laughter, the sound of it all.  The worst part about his accident had been losing that sense of camaraderie.

But there’s no room for dead weight in a circus, and a deaf rookie hadn’t been important enough to hold onto, no matter how good a shot he is.  They’d had to leave Clint behind, so he’d been on his own until he’d found Wanda standing on her brother’s shoulders to try to get into a dumpster for food.

The three of them have made a home of sorts in an abandoned building in Bed-Stuy.  Clint manages to keep them fed by shooting rats and pigeons with the bow he’d stolen from the circus, and the twins are surprisingly good at begging and picking pockets when they need money.

Still.  Clint worries.  Winter’s coming, and all of their clothing is threadbare.  Pietro had insisted on giving his coat to Wanda, and Clint can see the boy’s boney shoulders through the thin material of his shirt.

“You guys warm enough?” he asks as he doles out tonight’s serving of roasted pigeon.

Wanda smiles at him.  She’s the easiest for him to understand; she always remembers to face him and to speak slowly.  Pietro tries, but he’s a hyper kid, always in motion, and he tends to forget to that Clint needs to see his face to understand him.  “We are used to much colder weather,” she assures him, and then repeats herself when she sees hadn’t quite managed to read her lips in the dim light.

“If you say so,” he says, but he adds another board to their campfire anyway, determined to keep the little room warm.  His mind races with plans.  He probably looks old enough to pass for eighteen; there’s got to be a clothing drive somewhere where he can get them better things to wear.  If they look more respectable, they can spend the days in a heated library without needing to worry about anyone calling social services or the cops on them.  That should make things a little easier, at least.

He doesn’t know the best way to keep them safe, but he knows he has to try.  Adults might have failed him, but he’s got to do right by Wanda and Pietro.  It’s the only choice he has.

There had been that Weapons Law, for a start. Weapons were involved in so many crimes that. Swing reasoned, reducing the number of weapons had to reduce the crime rate.

Vimes wondered if he’d sat up in bed in the middle of the night and hugged himself when he’d dreamed that one up. Confiscate all weapons, and crime would go down. It made sense. It would have worked, too, if only there had been enough coppers – say, three per citizen.

Amazingly, quite a few weapons were handed in. The flaw though, was one that had somehow managed to escape Swing, and it was this: criminals don’t obey the law. It’s more or less a requirement for the job. They had no particular interest in making the streets safer for anyone except themselves.

—  ~ Terry Pratchett, Night Watch
Something I wish to say...

A lot of feminists seem to forget what they support sometimes, they claim women are as equal to men but then victimize themselves as ‘weaklings’ who need to be protected at any cost 24/7, going “as a WOMEN I worry about being raped every time I walk down the streets!”

Instead of Victimizing yourselves if you never actually have been attacked and babying each other on the ‘evils of men’ on computer screens how about you listen to this…

For starters men are more likely to be assaulted than women when walking down streets and yes even though rape isn’t as high on men it still happens to them to, secondly the sickos who do things like this look for vulnerable people as they enjoy the cat and mouse chase, meaning if you look like a victim your more likely to be one! 

So if your in a first would country that has decent human rights, education and securities the next time you walk down the streets in your clubbing gear and having no choice but to walk home on your own at 2 in the morning, worried that 10 dudes are going to rape you on the same night, instead of having nervous body language and constantly looking behind you, how about walk on like you are on a mission.

Head straight forward, no fiddling or nervous raised shoulders, just power walking to your destination like nobody can stop you.
Looking like your confident and busy will reduce your chance of being a victim because to be honest what they want is fear, control and an easy target.

External image

So in short if you keep acting like a victim and run into someone who is actually psychopathic or has bad intentions, your making it worse for yourselves.

Make an actual difference by teaching everyone of all genders, race, and etc  on how to protect themselves or join a group to make streets safer, because to be honest even if we some how we got rid of 'rape culture’ overnight it doesn’t change the fact  that an estimated  1-2% of the world population has psychopathic traits.

(Also just in case this was submitted by a female) 

—– Thank you for sending this in man. A lot of people on here dont understand the whole “self fulfilling prophecy” thing. -Billy