I work in a non-restraint facility for special needs kids (21 and under) with extreme behavioral issues. I’m talking real violent stuff. Sixteen and twenty-one year old boys who can (and do) home-run swing desks at your head.
As a non-restraint facility, we are trained to respond to these outbursts in the most non-threatening, non-confrontational way possible, while still protecting both the bystanders and the person currently attacking us.
We are monitored every second of our shift to make sure the safety and dignity of our clients is maintained, especially–and just let me emphasize this–the safety and dignity of the person attempting to hurt us. Their right to be treated fairly and with empathy is not forfeit just because their brain chemistry fucked them up today.
We have to be calm, regardless.
We have to be gentle, regardless.
We can never respond with any kind of force, ever.
Those rules apply to all the staff, all the time, no matter what.
So when I hear bullshit about how somebody “reached for their waistband” or they were “resisting,” when I hear yet another police officer got off because the situation was “scary” or he “feared for his safety” or whatever the fuck, I lose my shit.
You wanna talk about how you were frightened for your safety, walking up to someone in the middle of a psychotic episode? Yeah, well, I’ve been there. Pretty regular–probably twice a week, at least–no gun, no taser, with guidelines that state I cannot even use my fucking thumb because that’s considered “grabbing” and therefore a “restraint.”
And you know what? I’ve walked away from every one of those. I haven’t died. I’ve never even been seriously injured. We defused the situation in ways that didn’t involving riddling the other participant with bullets and at the end of the day, everyone went home. Go fucking figure.
And yet–and fucking yet–I keep hearing “not all cops.”
“Not all cops” are bad. “Not all cops” shoot innocent people .3 seconds after rolling up on the scene. “Not all cops” are racist fuckbags, misusing power for a personal joyride. “Not all cops” rape people at gunpoint (and get off scott-fucking-free).
Yet, at my place of employment, somehow everyone is calm in a crisis. Somehow everyone responds to violence with non-violence. Somehow everyone is always able to act like a goddamn compassionate human-being in the middle of the worst kind of street fight–
but you’re telling me that cops, people paid to protect, can’t all do what I do?
You’re telling me that cops, trained to respond to crises, can’t all respond to the same crises, with the same skill, that I do?
And you’re telling me that cops have to stick together in the face of these “potentially false” accusations. That cops have to support each other, no matter what, because their job is dangerous or whatever. That yeah, some cops, but ~actually, sweetie, not all cops~
Fuck that noise. My job is dangerous, too. But you better believe that if anyone sees a member of our staff breaking regulation, their ass gets reported immediately. That person loses their clearances; they can no longer be hired in the field, anywhere. There’s no moving to another district. There’s no finding another location. We make it stop.
So until every cop is cleaning house, until every cop stops this strategically blind bullshit, until every cop refuses to stand by and watch the rampant abuse and corruption inherent in this system, until all the bad cops are weeded out and unemployable–
Until that moment, then yeah, all cops.
“In 1984, when Ruth Coker Burks was 25 and a young mother living in Arkansas, she would often visit a hospital to care for a friend with cancer.
During one visit, Ruth noticed the nurses would draw straws, afraid to go into one room, its door sealed by a big red bag. She asked why and the nurses told her the patient had AIDS.
On a repeat visit, and seeing the big red bag on the door, Ruth decided to disregard the warnings and sneaked into the room.
In the bed was a skeletal young man, who told Ruth he wanted to see his mother before he died. She left the room and told the nurses, who said, "Honey, his mother’s not coming. He’s been here six weeks. Nobody’s coming!”
Ruth called his mother anyway, who refused to come visit her son, who she described as a "sinner" and already dead to her, and that she wouldn't even claim his body when he died.
“I went back in his room and when I walked in, he said, "Oh, momma. I knew you’d come", and then he lifted his hand. And what was I going to do? So I took his hand. I said, "I’m here, honey. I’m here”, Ruth later recounted.
Ruth pulled a chair to his bedside, talked to him
and held his hand until he died 13 hours later.
After finally finding a funeral home that would his body, and paying for the cremation out of her own savings, Ruth buried his ashes on her family's large plot.
After this first encounter, Ruth cared for other patients. She would take them to appointments, obtain medications, apply for assistance, and even kept supplies of AIDS medications on hand, as some pharmacies would not carry them.
Ruth’s work soon became well known in the city and she received financial assistance from gay bars, "They would twirl up a drag show on Saturday night and here'd come the money. That's how we'd buy medicine, that's how we'd pay rent. If it hadn't been for the drag queens, I don't know what we would have done", Ruth said.
Over the next 30 years, Ruth cared for over 1,000 people and buried more than 40 on her family's plot most of whom were gay men whose families would not claim their ashes.
For this, Ruth has been nicknamed the 'Cemetery Angel'.”— by Ra-Ey Saley
Don’t Ever Apologize
😘
listen I know it's heartbreaking that Claudia dies and it's understandable to wish she didn't, but let's please not accuse the writers of fridging her. to do so is a fundamental misunderstanding of the story and is frankly insulting to the intelligence and skill of the writers of the show.
Claudia's death, and the overwhelming grief and regret her parents experience because of it, is quite literally the point of the entire story. she dies because Anne's daughter Michele died of leukemia when she was five years old and there was nothing she or her husband could do to prevent it.
writing IWTV was how Anne coped with the unimaginable loss of a parent losing her child. she created a story about a little girl that could not die and then killed her anyway. Claudia's death is a senseless, unavoidable tragedy, just like Michele's was. the grief that haunts Louis and Lestat for the rest of their lives is the same grief that haunted Anne and her husband.
so when you're accusing people of killing Claudia off to benefit a story about two men, please remember that in real life sometimes parents lose their children. please remember Michele Rice.
she's the reason Claudia exists.
she's also the reason Claudia cannot be saved.
I am not ready for the mood guys
I am now crying. I'm reliving it all over again
That part wherein Peter says “Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good” as he touches his stomach. And you get to witness it slowly happening to him, slowly realizing what’s about to happen to him because of his Spider Sense.
Then Peter walks to Tony and Tony goes “You’re alright” reassuring this boy, this kid who wasn’t even supposed to be in space and wasn’t supposed to be involved in this war—he was supposed to be back on Earth on his field trip. Then Peter’s legs give out as he throws himself to Tony, but his healing ability tries to fix that as his legs disappear but there’s only so much his powers could do. But this also means he gets to experience the pain way so much more compared to the others because his senses are dialed to eleven—there was just so much input. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
He was in so much pain while he was dying.
Then Peter cries as he clings harder to Tony because he’s a kid and what do kids do when they can’t help themselves and they don’t know what to do? They go to an adult. Tony Stark is someone who Peter idolizes so much, he believes that Mr. Stark will be able to save him, like he always had.
So he begs as he cries.
“I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, please. I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go. I don’t want to go.”
That last “I don’t want to go” was the most heartbreaking because his voice, he sounded like a helpless kid as his voice cracks, sobbing so hard, clinging as much as he could hoping Mr. Stark would make everything better because he knows that Mr. Stark is the best.
Peter is so scared. So, so so scared of dying. He’s so young, he’s only 17. He hasn’t done much yet being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Hasn’t proven himself enough.
Then he says “I’m sorry.”
He’s sorry because he didn’t listen when he was told to go back to Earth. He’s sorry because he failed Iron Man. He’s sorry because he knew Tony would be guilty and would blame himself if he died. He’s sorry because he’s not strong enough and he’s not worthy to be an Avenger after all.
And we get to see how affected Tony was, how he was also crying because this kid wants him to save him, to keep him safe—he promised to keep this boy safe. He made him the Iron Spider suit to prevent this from happening. He was going to catch this kid whenever he falls and he did but then it wasn’t good enough because here Peter was, a kid he grew to love so much… dying in his arms and he can’t do anything about it.
It was Tony’s worst nightmare.
I love how they took time to actually show it, and not just let Peter disintegrate quickly like the rest. They gave them a moment. A very sad one that made most of us weep in the cinemas because Tony wanted a kid and slowly he realizes that all along he had one and it was Peter.
This was such a powerful scene because of Tony and Peter’s father-and-son dynamics. This was more than enough to fuel Tony Stark’s rage to face on Thanos because how dare he kill his kid.
watch this. this is literally what love is.
who says anything needs to be orderly, or make sense,or really anything
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