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bitterrobin · 6 months ago

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I loooove expanding on the al Ghuls. IDK in both canon and fanon they're always exclusively villains with little nuance to them unless its the sole focus of a story arc. Even then, its pretty much only Ras and Talia that get their (deserved) due.

*pushing up my nerd glasses* which is why I have fun writing GRAVEYARD because I can yap about my al Ghuls headcanons left and right. For example, Melisande is primarily a French name. But since Talia's mother is often described as mixed Arab/Chinese, I figured I would look for why she would have a French name (other than the writer's decision, maybe they thought it was just pretty). I came up with this: Algeria has history of French usage through its colonization, so Melisande has a French first name but an Arabic middle name (Fadhma). Since she met Ras in Woodstock, she'd have to have been a teenager/young adult by then, and thus been raised in the 1950s/60s. I figured the connotations of Woodstock, her mixed heritage, the then-current state of Algeria etc, the 1969 oil spill in the US, she would have visited America with curiosity about the counter-culture. (how? idk that's why this still in the works) In my au,

Melisande already held views on nature and environmental protection before meeting Ras. Her views were fierce, but probably a little naive compared to Ras' own views. Nonetheless, they clicked intellectually, with Melisande debating theories and politics, which eventually led to their marriage. I don't think Melisande would've liked America (and obviously neither did Ras) so they did not stay there. I considered writing Melisande having Kayble Amazigh heritage to further fuel her desire for change and revolution and because Ras is implied to have Bedouin/Berber origins, but since I don't know much about those cultures beyond some research - I figured I shouldn't include it. Also, because Melisande died when Talia was young, so I don't think she'd have the time to impart a lot of her specific culture onto her daughter, adding to Talia's isolation/loneliness. Melisande is a mother who's killed in both of her iterations, I just wanted to add more significance to her connection with Talia. Something about meeting an intellectual and then being doomed, one way or another, to be absorbed into his mythos. She's a blip in Ras's history, not even his first wife or his first lover - but she's important to Talia.

Same kinda applied to Dusan. He's only in several comics as the White Ghost because Ras needed a new body. He's albino. He's extremely devoted to his father despite not receiving the same attention, and he was born to connect Ras to some lost culture or people. Dusan, to my knowledge is not an Arab name. From research, in some areas, its a Czech/Slovak/Serbian name. This is interesting to me since, besides Nyssa, it implies he's the only other non-Arabic member of the family. Nyssa (depends on translation, is either Greek or Hebrew, which makes sense considering she is Jewish) is of Russian descent. So in my hc, Dusan is of Slovak descent, connected to some fictional peoples. Considering Ras' history, Dusan's mother was probably connected to some type of specific science or magic culture that Ras wanted his hands on. He seems detached to Talia, despite being her brother, so my hc is that he's much older than her and so they don't have a connection in the way that Nyssa created between them. Because Ras was successfully able to transfer his mind/soul to Dusan's body in Resurrection, we can glean that Dusan might've had this magical connection too. Bringing Mara into this, we don't get a lot of content surrounding what her relationship w her father was. Still, my hc is that her red hair streak is actually dyed, and she has inherited her father's albinism but has yet to show it outside of her hair. Mara is also not an Arabic name. In Hebrew it means bitter, but my hc is that she nicknamed herself Mara. Besides Nyssa, I don't think any other member of the al Ghuls are Jewish - so Mara just took the meaning as a way to symbolize her bitterness over her father. Her full name was Maram, which means "wish" or "desire" in Arabic. Whether it was Dusan or her mother that named her this, I'm not fully sure yet but I think it'd be more heartbreaking if it was Dusan. Despite spending so long attached to his father's crusade, I think it'd be sad if for a moment - he had independence and happiness w Mara. Maybe he wanted a son, just as Ras wanted a son, but he once loved her just as fiercely as Talia loves Damian. But again, the al Ghuls are Ouroboros. They cannot ever break the family curse, so in the end, Dusan was once again driven to his father's side w fervor, his lover or wife left him, and Mara was left (as many in the family) alone.

#of course none of this is published yet #when I finish writing my whole draft im going to try and put it up here to call for sensitivity readers or just a second opinion from peopl #who are actually these ethnicitites/nationalities #especially since once the al Ghul lineages are cemented they are going to be used throughout the entire au #taxonomy!verse #ras al ghul #talia al ghul #melisande al ghul #dusan al ghul #nyssa raatko #mara al ghul #damian wayne #dc #call me the yapper bc that's all I'm doing in GRAVEYARD damn #graveyard tag #dc meta

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sunkissedchld · 1 year ago

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𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭

Nikola Stojanovic is a Serbian astrologer known for sharing his theory that each degree of the zodiac circle corresponds to the zodiac signs. @bratz-kitten has the best post on overall correspondents and specific degrees that Stojanovic focused on, and I used said post to apply the theory to my chart. i also used forensicastrolger’s post on their site because i felt it added even more information.

this intepretation is obviously specific to my chart, but if you have similar placements you may find it helpful. you might also find it helpful if you want an idea of how to start applying this theory to your chart. i hope you all find this helpful!

Leo Ascendant at 11°

the first house correlates to our appearance, first impressions, and our natural tendencies/disposition. with my ascendant in leo, my hair is a very noticable part of me. people may view me as a confident person who is a natural leader. i’m likely easily recognizable and have influence over others due to my charisma and prestige/high status.

the eleventh degree is an aquarius degree. according to nikola, this degree is connected to suicide. others say it’s connected to divorce. in my opinion, these two subjects connect in that appearances don’t match what’s under the surface. this is only heightened as this degree is on my ascendant, which directly correlates to literal appearances. aquarian degrees also have ties to technology, innovation, networking, intelligence, and humanitarianism.

to me, this manifests in my chart in that fact that i have a hard time connecting my own view of myself to the view others have of me. what i project does not match what’s inside - or at least, i don’t feel that it does. this probably also manifests in the greatness/potential others see in me that i also have a hard time seeing in myself. this might lastly manifest in a “suicide” of my reputation where i ruin people’s expectations of me because i cause my own downfall.

3H Scorpio Moon at 2°

the third house relates to the mind, communication/language, and people we find roots with before our mother (ie. siblings). the moon details our inner bearings - our emotions and instinctual desires and actions. it’s important to note the moon is in its fall in scorpio, meaning the planet is uncomfortable and debilitated in its bearings. with that said, my scorpio moon makes for an intense placement. i tend to be overly introspective to the point of isolation when it comes to my thoughts, as they’re often intense. when going through internal turmoil, i often look to drastic transformative actions in order to feel more in control.

the second degree is a taurean one. nikola believed this degree was linked to high achievements and greatness - often in the public eye. taurean degrees can also be indicators of luxury, stability, and one’s voice.

i feel this degree and planet placement seem to go against one another. my emotions are almost inherently blocked from the public due to the scorpio influence, but the second degree makes for a situation where my emotions are likely to be exposed to the general public in a large way. with the connection to one’s voice, i feel this manifests in my chart in that i have a way of achieving greatness as a result of my emotions in the way i communicate them. oftentimes, it’s hard for me to express my emotions verbally, but i have a way with displaying them in my writings and other art forms. i may be able to gain greatness, attention, and luxury because of the way i learn to express my emotions to the collective.

5H Sagittarius Mercury at 22°

the fifth house corresponds to life’s pleasures - artistic talents, entertainment, romance, and the inclination and want to be in the spotlight. mercury handles communication, education, and short travels. my sagittarius placement enables me to have a way with words, as explained when talking about my moon sign. i am able to entertain and educate others in a way that is mesmerizing and engaging but also friendly and relatable rather than condescending and confusing. my ideas and words tend to be more all-encompassing and abstract but well thought out, so people feel drawn to it.

the twenty-second degree is connected to capricorn. nikola proposed this degree to be one that indicates one who is “to kill or be killed”. he explains this in a literal sense, but it doesn’t have to entail actual murder. i personally believe the twenty-second degree operates similarly to leo degrees in that one is likely to gain recognition due to the capricorn influence (capricorn rules over the tenth house, which deals with fame, public recognition, legacy, etc.). i also believe it has more karmic ties due to its closeness to the twenty-ninth degree. in my opinion, the twenty-second degree could indicate an area of life where can gain and/or lose a ton. it could indicate a possible fall from grace.

looking at this placement along with my scorpio moon interpretation leads me to believe my words and writings could be my biggest advantage and my biggest downfall. i could gain public recognition as result of my words (ie. writing a book or music), but if i were to go into the deep end a lose myself by becoming too arrogant or forgetting my original reasonings for sharing my words i could leave a smeared legacy. this could technically be seen in what i do on this platform! i share my ideas and such relating to astro content and have gained many people’s trust, but that trust can easily be lost if i’m rude, don’t keep my word, or (going back to the leo interpretation) mar the image people have of me.

5H Sagittarius Pluto at 15°

pluto rules over transformations, death & rebirth, power, sexuality, and mystery. this planet is generational, and i was born while it was in sagittarius (1995 - 2008). with this placement in my fifth house, i experience and understand Pluto’s traits best within a creative arena. my power lies within my creative abilities (and is enhanced due to my fifth house and sagittarius stellium). for others, discovering the hidden parts of me is like a cat-and-mouse chase that they often enjoy. personally, i explore the hidden parts of me utilizing the art of creation.

the fifteenth degree is associated with gemini. nikola asserts it as an “assination” or “kill”/murder degree, and says that it could indicate accidental death if in the sign of gemini. gemini degrees are also associated with double happenings and geometric patterns.

the concept of a degree associated with “assisination”, murder, and/or accidental death connected to a pluto placement makes me believe the effects of pluto are heightened in my life - and this is even more so true as the planet conjuncts both my sun (representing my ego, my core beliefs and ideals; essentially who i am) and my venus (what i love and attach myself to; what draws me in).

in one way, this degree and the aspects i have to the planet could be one explanation as to why the concepts of death and rebirth have always been a focal point in my life. where the fifteenth degree is associated with accidental deaths in gemini, one could argue it means intentional deaths in the sign of sagittarius since the two are sister signs. taking this argument into account and remembering the association of patterns with the degree makes me believe that my encounters with death and are intentional in order to aid in my growth and ultimate transformation. the concept of rebirth is one that i am to become comfortable with because it’s important to my being and goals (see sun-pluto aspect).

this also goes back to my interpretation of my mercury degree with the concept of killing coming back. i also think this, again, plays into the aspect of me having a bigger purpose that could connect to public recognition - so much so that the recognition is generational. this reminds me of the idea of someone completely tearing themselves down and almost re-creating themselves in order to become their best person - not only for themselves but also for the collective. in all, it makes me believe i need to be willing to tear down my ego and wants in order to become more.

5H Sagittarius Chiron at 29°

chiron represents one’s deepest wounds - the traumas from childhood that leave deep impressions on someone for long period of time. my fifth house placement makes for an even closer emphasis on the wounds’ impact and presence on my childhood. this in combination with the sagittarius placement means i have long term wound relating to self-expression. with my fifth house stellium, i have a need to be creative and unique in my thoughts and actions, but early life experiences lead to self-doubt and possible repression.

the twenty-ninth degree is an indicator of clairvoyance and strong intuition. nikola proposed that those with placements in the twenty-ninth degree could predict the future; he also had this degree in his own chart. it should also be noted the twenty-ninth degree is a leo degree, which deals with attention, fame, expression, and creativity. this degree could indicate the person has a knowing feeling of future success.

in astrology, it’s naturally assumed that chiron is meant to be healed. with this, the degree of the asteroid could explain the severity of the wound. the fact that chiron is connected to my fifth house sagittarius stellium (which includes my sun sign) could explain why i often feel confused about whether or not fifth house activities like singing, performing, writing, etc. are really for me. it also explains why i doubt the beauty of the art i create.

additionally, the twenty-ninth degree could further indicate that my future is linked to fame and attention. it could also mean that i am already aware of the fame present in my future. so, despite my current doubting of my art and my hobbies, my deeper conscious is likely aware of the true final outcome.

1H Leo Juno at 29°

juno is an asteroid connected to the roman goddess that rules over marriage and family and who is also known as the protector of women. this roman goddess is also known as hera in greek beliefs. hera is also connected to the former topics of juno, but is also known for her fierce love for her husband - zeus. her love for zeus was so prominent that even when he would cheat on her, hera would instead punish and blame the mistresses rather than zeus himself. with that, asteroid juno is known to be connected to marriage and represents what one often looks for in a long-term significant other.

with this sign in leo and the first house, i desire someone who is fiercely protective and loyal. i may prefer being by the person often and may even engage in PDA. this placement also gives me trophy wife/husband vibes. there’s a want to be shown off and doted on. the first house placement makes me think of love at first sight. regardless, there is a want for love to be grand and immediate yet long lasting.

as stated before, the twenty-ninth degree is associated with both psychic abilities and leo traits including fame, attention, expression, and fun. i also mentioned a knowing feeling of success.

with this clairvoyance aspect present, i propose that juno in the twenty-ninth degree could be an indicator of a soulmate and/or twin flame connection, and this is likely intensified with the first house placement. this could tell of a love from a past life or a love that even those beyond this life know about. this could be a love where my future spouse and i already know about one another before meeting; it could even mean that we’re able to speak to one another without being together. this would explain why sometimes i feel as if i learn small bits of information about then through my dreams.

the leo traits could mean that i gain fame, success, or public recognition from my long term significant other. the leo and first house placements could also mean that i’m likely to learn more about myself due my future spouse. i might open up more and become more confident in myself due to their presence.

#about sun #astrology #nikola's degree theory #degree theory #ascendant: leo #planet: moon #planet: mercury #planet: pluto #house: v #house: iii #asteroids #asteroid: juno

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mariacallous · 6 months ago

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The sudden death of Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi in a helicopter crash on Sunday drew mixed reactions in the Balkans, where some states have good relations with Iran and others do not.

Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan sent condolences to over the deaths of the President, Foreign Minister Hossein Amir-Abdollahian and other officials.

“The news … coming from Iran deeply saddened us. We deeply share the pain of the friendly and brotherly country Iran. We have been in contact since the moment we first received news of the accident. We tried to mobilise the resources we had. Our institutions did their best. But unfortunately, the result saddened us deeply,” Fidan said on Monday.

Based on a request from Iran, Turkey provided a drone and helicopter with night vision to support search and rescue missions. More than 2.5 million people tuned in to watch the operation via Flight Radar web page.

The president of the biggest Bosniak party in Bosnia, the Party of Democratic Action, SDA, joined the condolences later on Monday.

“With sorrow, I received the news of the death of the President of the Islamic Republic of Iran, Ebrahim Raisi, Minister Hossein Amir-Abdollahian, and members of their delegation. In these moments of this serious tragedy, my thoughts and prayers are with the families of the deceased,” Izetbegovic said in a telegram sent to Iran’s first vice-president, Mohammad Mokhber.

During the 1992-95 war in Bosnia, Iran was one of the first countries to support Bosnian Muslims.

The Grand Mufti of the Islamic Community in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Husein Kavazovic, extended his condolences.

“In these difficult times … I wish to express my condolences and the condolences of the members of the Islamic Community in Bosnia and Herzegovina on the tragic deaths of the President of the Islamic Republic of Iran, His Excellency Ebrahim Raisi, Foreign Minister His Excellency Hossein Amir-Abdollahian, and their associates,” Kavazovic said, N1 reported.

Serbian President Aleksandar Vucic expressed shock on on X. “I am shocked by the accident which has befallen the President of the Islamic Republic of Iran … I hope that this case will be investigated and that the Iranian people will preserve stability,” Vucic wrote.

Serbia and Iran have good relations, aided by the fact that Iran has not recognised the former Serbian province of Kosovo as an independent state. Kosovo was also the topic of the last meeting of Vucic and Iran’s President in September 2022 on the sidelines of the United Nations General Assembly in New York.

Serbian Foreign Minister Ivica Dacic met his Iranian counterpart Amir-Abdollahian in December 2022. On that occasion, they marked 85 years of diplomatic ties and said relations between the two countries were at a high level. The Iranian minister said Iran was ready to help Serbia when it comes to energy issues.

Greek Foreign Minister George Gerapetritis expressed his condolences on the radio to Iranians on Monday and also said he doubted any major upheaval would follow.

“President Raisi was obviously the second most important person in Iran after the Supreme Leader, Ali Khamenei. It is obvious that there will be some turbulence in the transition period. Within 50 days, citizens should be invited to vote for the new President. The reality is that Iran has a very closed and strict system, so my sense is that there will be no major upheaval … I think normalisation will come,” he said.

“I express my condolences to the Iranian people and the Iranian government. On the other hand, my feeling is that despite small transitional fluctuations, there will be no change in either foreign policy or in the reaction, I think, regionally or internationally, to Iran,” Gerapetritis added.

Some countries in the Balkan region have a tense relationship with Iran and remained mute over the news.

Albania cut ties with Tehran and declared Iranian diplomats personae non grata in September 2022 over a massive cyber-attack on government servers in July that year. Albania’s Prime Minister, Edi Rama, said Tirana was freezing diplomatic ties with Iran after he blamed Iran for the cyber-attack.

Albania hosts around 3,000 exiled Iranians belonging to the People’s Mujahedin of Iran, MEK, an opposition to the current regime in Iran and supported by the US, and this is thought to be the reason behind the cyber attack.

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reanimatedcourier · 4 years ago

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How to Write Indigenous Characters Without Looking like a Jackass:

Update as of December 26th, 2020: I have added a couple new sections about naming and legal terms, as well as a bit of reading on the Cherokee Princess phenomenon.

Boozhoo (hello) Fallout fandom! I'm a card-carrying Anishinaabe delivering this rough guide about writing Indigenous characters because wow, do I see a lot of shit.

Let's get something out of the way first: Fallout's portrayal of Indigenous people is racist. From a vague definition of "tribal" to the claims of them being "savage" and "uncivilized" mirror real-world stereotypes used to dehumanize us. Fallout New Vegas' narrated intro has Ron Perlman saying Mr. House "rehabilitated" tribals to create New Vegas' Three Families. You know. Rehabilitate. As if we are animals. Top it off with an erasure of Indigenous people in the American Southwest and no real tribe names, and you've got some pretty shitty representation. The absence of Native American as a race option in the GECK isn't too great, given that two Native characters are marked "Caucasian" despite being brown. Butch Deloria is a pretty well-known example of this effect. (Addendum: Indigenous people can have any mix of dominant and recessive traits, as well as present different phenotypes. What bothers me is it doesn't accommodate us or mixed people, which is another post entirely.)

As a precautionary warning: this post and the sources linked will discuss racism and genocide. There will also be discussion of multiple kinds of abuse.

Now, your best approach will be to pick a nation or tribe and research them. However, what follows will be general references.

Terms that may come up in your research include Aboriginal/Native Canadian, American Indian/Native American, Inuit, Métis, and Mestizo. The latter two refer to cultural groups created after the discovery of the so-called New World. (Addendum made September 5th, 2020: Mestizo has negative connotations and originally meant "half breed" so stick with referring to your mixed Latine and Indigenous characters as mixed Indigenous or simply by the name of their people [Maya, Nahua].)

As a note, not every mixed person is Métis or Mestizo. If you are, say, Serbian and Anishinaabe, you would be mixed, but not Métis (the big M is important here, as it refers to a specific culture). Even the most liberal definition caps off at French and British ancestry alongside Indigenous (some say Scottish and English). Mestizo works the same, since it refers to descendants of Spanish conquistadors/settlers and Indigenous people.

Trouble figuring out whose land is where? No problem, check out this map.

Drawing

Don't draw us with red skin. It's offensive and stereotypical.

Tutorial for Native Skintones

Tutorial for Mixed Native Skintones

Why Many Natives Have Long Hair (this would technically fit better under another category, but give your Native men long hair!)

If You're Including Traditional Wear, Research! It's Out There

Languages

Remember, there are a variety of languages spoken by Indigenous people today. No two tribes will speak the same language, though there are some that are close and may have loan words from each other (Cree and Anishinaabemowin come to mind). Make sure your Diné (you may know them as Navajo) character doesn't start dropping Cree words.

Here's a Site With a Map and Voice Clips

Here's an Extensive List of Amerindian Languages

Keep in mind there are some sounds that have no direct English equivalents. But while we're at it, remember a lot of us speak English, French, Spanish, or Portuguese. The languages of the countries that colonized us.

Words in Amerindian languages tend to be longer than English ones and are in the format of prefix + verb + suffix to get concepts across. Gaawiin miskwaasinoon is a complete sentence in Anishinaabemowin, for example (it is not red).

Names

Surprisingly, we don't have names like Passing Dawn or Two-Bears-High-Fiving in real life. A lot of us have, for lack of better phrasing, white people names. We may have family traditions of passing a name down from generation to generation (I am the fourth person in my maternal line to have my middle name), but not everyone is going to do that. If you do opt for a name from a specific tribe, make sure you haven't chosen a last name from another tribe.

Baby name sites aren't reliable, because most of the names on there will be made up by people who aren't Indigenous. That site does list some notable exceptions and debunks misconceptions.

Here's a list of last names from the American census.

Indian Names

You may also hear "spirit names" because that's what they are for. You know the sort of mystical nature-related name getting slapped on an Indigenous character? Let's dive into that for a moment.

The concept of a spirit name seems to have gotten mistranslated at some point in time. It is the name Creator calls you throughout all your time both here and in the spirit world. These names are given (note the word usage) to you in a ceremony performed by an elder. This is not done lightly.

A lot of imitations of this end up sounding strange because they don't follow traditional guidelines. (I realize this has spread out of the original circle, but Fallout fans may recall other characters in Honest Hearts and mods that do this. They have really weird and racist results.)

If you're not Indigenous: don't try this. You will be wrong.

Legal Terms

Now, sometimes the legal term (or terms) for a tribe may not be what they refer to themselves as. A really great example of this would be the Oceti Sakowin and "Sioux". How did that happen, you might be wondering. Smoky Mountain News has an article about this word and others, including the history of these terms.

For the most accurate information, you are best off having your character refer to themselves by the name their nation uses outside of legislation. A band name would be pretty good for this (Oglala Lakota, for example). I personally refer to myself by my band.

Cowboys

And something the Fallout New Vegas fans might be interested in, cowboys! Here's a link to a post with several books about Black and Indigenous cowboys in the Wild West.

Representation: Stereotypes and Critical Thought

Now, you'll need to think critically about why you want to write your Indigenous character a certain way. Here is a comprehensive post about stereotypes versus nuance.

Familiarize yourself with tropes. The Magical Indian is a pretty prominent one, with lots of shaman-type characters in movies and television shows. This post touches on its sister tropes (The Magical Asian and The Magical Negro), but is primarily about the latter.

Say you want to write an Indigenous woman. Awesome! Characters I love to see. Just make sure you're aware of the stereotypes surrounding her and other Women of Color.

Word to the wise: do not make your Indigenous character an alcoholic. "What, so they can't even drink?" You might be asking. That is not what I'm saying. There is a pervasive stereotype about Drunk Indians, painting a reaction to trauma as an inherent genetic failing, as stated in this piece about Indigenous social worker Jessica Elm's research. The same goes for drugs. Ellen Deloria is an example of this stereotype.

Familiarize yourself with and avoid the Noble Savage trope. This was used to dehumanize us and paint us as "childlike" for the sake of a plot device. It unfortunately persists today.

Casinos are one of the few ways for tribes to make money so they can build homes and maintain roads. However, some are planning on diversifying into other business ventures.

There's a stereotype where we all live off government handouts. Buddy, some of these long-term boil water advisories have been in place for over twenty years. The funding allocated to us as a percentage is 0.39%: less than half a percent to fight the coronavirus. They don't give us money.

"But what about people claiming to be descended from a Cherokee princess?" Cherokee don't and never had anything resembling princesses. White southerners made that up prior to the Civil War. As the article mentions, they fancied themselves "defending their lands as the Indians did".

Also, don't make your Indigenous character a cannibal. Cannibalism is a serious taboo in a lot of our cultures, particularly northern ones.

Our lands are not cursed. We don't have a litany of curses to cast on white people in found footage films. Seriously. We have better things to be doing. Why on earth would our ancestors be haunting you when they could be with their families? Very egotistical assumption.

Indigenous Ties and Blood Quantum

Blood quantum is a colonial system that was initially designed to "breed out the Indian" in people. To dilute our bloodlines until we assimilated properly into white society. NPR has an article on it here.

However, this isn't how a vast majority of us define our identities. What makes us Indigenous is our connections (or reconnection) to our families, tribes, bands, clans, and communities.

Blood quantum has also historically been used to exclude Black Natives from tribal enrollment, given that it was first based on appearance. So, if you looked Black and not the image of "Indian" the white census taker had in his brain, you were excluded and so were your descendants.

Here are two tumblrs that talk about Black Indigenous issues and their perspectives. They also talk about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people of Australia.

However, if you aren't Indigenous, don't bring up blood quantum. Don't. This is an issue you should not be speaking about.

Cherokee Princess Myth

"Princess" was not a real position in any tribe. The European idea of monarchy did not suddenly manifest somewhere else. The closest probable approximation may have been the daughter of a chief or other politically prominent person. But princess? No.

Here is an article talking about possible origins of this myth. Several things are of note here: women from other tribes may have bee shoved under this label and the idea of a "Cherokee Princess" had been brought up to explain the sudden appearance of a brown-skinned (read: half Black) family member.

For a somewhat more in depth discussion of why, specifically, this myth gets touted around so often, Timeline has this piece.

Religion

Our religions are closed. We are not going to tell you how we worship. Mostly because every little bit we choose to share gets appropriated. Smudging is the most recent example. If you aren't Indigenous, that's smoke cleansing. Smudging is done in a specific way with ceremonies and prayers.

Now, a lot of us were forcibly converted. Every residential school was run by Christians. So plenty of us are Catholic, Baptist, Anglican, Lutheran, etc. Catholicism in Latin America also has influence from the Indigenous religions in that region.

Having your Indigenous character pray or carry rosaries wouldn't be a bad thing, if that religion was important to them. Even if they are atheist, if they lived outside of a reserve or other Indigenous communities, they might have Christian influences due to its domination of the Western world.

Settler Colonialism and the White Savior Trope

Now we've come to our most painful section yet. Fallout unintentionally has an excellent agent of settler-colonialism, in particular the Western Christian European variety, in Caesar's Legion and Joshua Graham.

(Addendum: Honest Hearts is extremely offensive in its portrayal of Indigenous people, and egregiously shows a white man needing to "civilize" tribals and having to teach them basic skills. These skills include cooking, finding safe water, and defending themselves from other tribes.)

Before we dive in, here is a post explaining the concept of cultural Christianity, if you are unfamiliar with it.

We also need to familiarize ourselves with The White Man's Burden. While the poem was written regarding the American-Philippine war, it still captures the attitudes toward Indigenous folks all over the world at the time.

As this article in Teen Vogue points out, white people like to believe they need to save People of Color. You don't need to. People of Color can save themselves.

Now, cultural Christianity isn't alone on this side of the pond. Writer Teju Cole authored a piece on the White Savior Industrial Complex to describe mission trips undertaken by white missionaries to Africa to feed their egos.

Colonialism has always been about the acquisition of wealth. To share a quote from this paper about the ongoing genocide of Indigenous peoples: "Negatively, [settler colonialism] strives for the dissolution of native societies. Positively, it erects a new colonial society on the expropriated land base—as I put it, settler colonizers come to stay: invasion is a structure not an event. In its positive aspect, elimination is an organizing principal of settler-colonial society rather than a one-off (and superseded) occurrence. The positive outcomes of the logic of elimination can include officially encouraged miscegenation, the breaking-down of native title into alienable individual freeholds, native citizenship, child abduction, religious conversion, resocialization in total institutions such as missions or boarding schools, and a whole range of cognate biocultural assimilations. All these strategies, including frontier homicide, are characteristic of settler colonialism. Some of them are more controversial in genocide studies than others." (Positive, here, is referring to "benefits" for the colonizers. Indigenous people don't consider colonization beneficial.)

An example of a non-benefit, the Church Rock disaster had Diné children playing in radioactive water so the company involved could avoid bad publicity.

Moving on, don't sterilize your Indigenous people. Sterilization, particularly when it is done without consent, has long been used as a tool by the white system to prevent "undesirables" (read, People of Color and disabled people) from having children. Somehow, as of 2018, it wasn't officially considered a crime.

The goal of colonization was to eliminate us entirely. Millions died because of exposure to European diseases. Settlers used to and still do separate our children from us for reasons so small as having a dirty dish in the sink. You read that right, a single dirty dish in your kitchen sink was enough to get your children taken and adopted out to white families. This information was told to me by an Indigenous social work student whose name I will keep anonymous.

It wasn't until recently they made amendments to the Indian Act that wouldn't automatically render Indigenous women non-status if they married someone not Indigenous. It also took much too long for Indigenous families to take priority in child placement over white ones. Canada used to adopt Indigenous out to white American families. The source for that statement is further down, but adoption has been used as a tool to destroy cultures.

I am also begging you to cast aside whatever colonialist systems have told you about us. We are alive. People with a past, not people of the past, which was wonderfully said here by Frank Waln.

Topics to Avoid if You Aren't Indigenous

Child Separation. Just don't. We deserve to remain with our families and our communities. Let us stay together and be happy that way.

Assimilation schools. Do not bring up a tool for cultural genocide that has left lasting trauma in our communities.

W/ndigos. I don't care that they're in Fallout 76. They shouldn't be. Besides, you never get them right anyway.

Sk/nwalkers. Absolutely do not. Diné stories are not your playthings either.

I've already talked about drugs and alcohol. Do your research with compassion and empathy in mind. Indigenous people have a lot of pain and generational trauma. You will need to be extremely careful having your Indigenous characters use drugs and alcohol. If your character can be reduced to their (possible) substance abuse issues, you need to step back and rework it. As mentioned in Jessica Elm's research, remember that it isn't inherent to us.

For our final note: remember that we're complex, autonomous human beings. Don't use our deaths to further the stories of your white characters. Don't reduce us to some childlike thing that needs to be raised and civilized by white characters. We interact with society a little differently than you do, but we interact nonetheless.

Meegwetch (thank you) for reading! Remember to do your research and portray us well, but also back off when you are told by an Indigenous person.

This may be updated in the future, it depends on what information I come across or, if other Indigenous people are so inclined, what is added to this post.

#fallout 3 #fallout 4 #fallout 76 #fallout new vegas #fallout 1 #fallout 2 #fallout: new vegas #ozhibii'ige

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sunkissedchldrecon · 2 years ago

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𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭

Nikola Stojanovic is a Serbian astrologer known for sharing his theory that each degree of the zodiac circle corresponds to the zodiac signs. @bratz-kitten has the best post on overall correspondents and specific degrees that Stojanovic focused on, and I used said post to apply the theory to my chart. i also used forensicastrolger's post on their site because i felt it added even more information.

𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝟏°

the first house correlates to our appearance, first impressions, and our natural tendencies/disposition. with my ascendant in leo, my hair is a very noticable part of me. people may view me as a confident person who is a natural leader. i'm likely easily recognizable and have influence over others due to my charisma and prestige/high status.

the eleventh degree is an aquarius degree. according to nikola, this degree is connected to suicide. others say it's connected to divorce. in my opinion, these two subjects connect in that appearances don't match what's under the surface. this is only heightened as this degree is on my ascendant, which directly correlates to literal appearances. aquarian degrees also have ties to technology, innovation, networking, intelligence, and humanitarianism.

to me, this manifests in my chart in that fact that i have a hard time connecting my own view of myself to the view others have of me. what i project does not match what's inside - or at least, i don't feel that it does. this probably also manifests in the greatness/potential others see in me that i also have a hard time seeing in myself. this might lastly manifest in a "suicide" of my reputation where i ruin people's expectations of me because i cause my own downfall.

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨 𝐚𝐭 ��° 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

the third house relates to the mind, communication/language, and people we find roots with before our mother (ie. siblings). the moon details our inner bearings - our emotions and instinctual desires and actions. it's important to note the moon is in its fall in scorpio, meaning the planet is uncomfortable and debilitated in its bearings. with that said, my scorpio moon makes for an intense placement. i tend to be overly introspective to the point of isolation when it comes to my thoughts, as they're often intense. when going through internal turmoil, i often look to drastic transformative actions in order to feel more in control.

i feel this degree and planet placement seem to go against one another. my emotions are almost inherently blocked from the public due to the scorpio influence, but the second degree makes for a situation where my emotions are likely to be exposed to the general public in a large way. with the connection to one's voice, i feel this manifests in my chart in that i have a way of achieving greatness as a result of my emotions in the way i communicate them. oftentimes, it's hard for me to express my emotions verbally, but i have a way with displaying them in my writings and other art forms. i may be able to gain greatness, attention, and luxury because of the way i learn to express my emotions to the collective.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲

𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟐° 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

the fifth house corresponds to life's pleasures - artistic talents, entertainment, romance, and the inclination and want to be in the spotlight. mercury handles communication, education, and short travels. my sagittarius placement enables me to have a way with words, as explained when talking about my moon sign. i am able to entertain and educate others in a way that is mesmerizing and engaging but also friendly and relatable rather than condescending and confusing. my ideas and words tend to be more all-encompassing and abstract but well thought out, so people feel drawn to it.

the twenty-second degree is connected to capricorn. nikola proposed this degree to be one that indicates one who is "to kill or be killed". he explains this in a literal sense, but it doesn't have to entail actual murder. i personally believe the twenty-second degree operates similarly to leo degrees in that one is likely to gain recognition due to the capricorn influence (capricorn rules over the tenth house, which deals with fame, public recognition, legacy, etc.). i also believe it has more karmic ties due to its closeness to the twenty-ninth degree. in my opinion, the twenty-second degree could indicate an area of life where can gain and/or lose a ton. it could indicate a possible fall from grace.

looking at this placement along with my scorpio moon interpretation leads me to believe my words and writings could be my biggest advantage and my biggest downfall. i could gain public recognition as result of my words (ie. writing a book or music), but if i were to go into the deep end a lose myself by becoming too arrogant or forgetting my original reasonings for sharing my words i could leave a smeared legacy. this could technically be seen in what i do on this platform! i share my ideas and such relating to astro content and have gained many people's trust, but that trust can easily be lost if i'm rude, don't keep my word, or (going back to the leo interpretation) mar the image people have of me.

𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨

𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝟓° 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

pluto rules over transformations, death & rebirth, power, sexuality, and mystery. this planet is generational, and i was born while it was in sagittarius (1995 - 2008). with this placement in my fifth house, i experience and understand Pluto's traits best within a creative arena. my power lies within my creative abilities (and is enhanced due to my fifth house and sagittarius stellium). for others, discovering the hidden parts of me is like a cat-and-mouse chase that they often enjoy. personally, i explore the hidden parts of me utilizing the art of creation.

the fifteenth degree is associated with gemini. nikola asserts it as an "assination" or "kill"/murder degree, and says that it could indicate accidental death if in the sign of gemini. gemini degrees are also associated with double happenings and geometric patterns.

the concept of a degree associated with "assisination", murder, and/or accidental death connected to a pluto placement makes me believe the effects of pluto are heightened in my life - and this is even more so true as the planet conjuncts both my sun (representing my ego, my core beliefs and ideals; essentially who i am) and my venus (what i love and attach myself to; what draws me in).

in one way, this degree and the aspects i have to the planet could be one explanation as to why the concepts of death and rebirth have always been a focal point in my life. where the fifteenth degree is associated with accidental deaths in gemini, one could argue it means intentional deaths in the sign of sagittarius since the two are sister signs. taking this argument into account and remembering the association of patterns with the degree makes me believe that my encounters with death and are intentional in order to aid in my growth and ultimate transformation. the concept of rebirth is one that i am to become comfortable with because it's important to my being and goals (see sun-pluto aspect).

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟗° 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟗° 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

as stated before, the twenty-ninth degree is associated with both psychic abilities and leo traits including fame, attention, expression, and fun. i also mentioned a knowing feeling of success.

#astrology #about sun #ascendant: leo #degrees #planet: moon #planet: mercury #planet: pluto #house: v #house: iii #degree theory #asteroids #asteroid: juno

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

#helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo smut #zemo x reader #zemo x you #bun writes #baron zemo #zemo #i am KNEELING

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trekkie-in-space · 3 years ago

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Straight Fact about Marsella/Marseille from La Casa de Papel and some following Headcanon/Theories ✨✨

- Fact -

- Very discreet, he observes a lot and talk a little, called at a least at two reprises a mute (by Bogotà and Denver)

- Close to animals, especially dogs, love them, respect them, trust them more than human. He is against animal suffering.

- Ex-Soldier, has been called an assassin (by Bogotà) and Hitman (by Denver), killed human, killing a human is not a problem (straight up threatened Denver to cut him in half)

- Lost all his friends during war

- Had a dog during war, the dog was very loyal to him, stayed when human left (That dog was probably not Pamuk)

- Had a dog, Pamuk, very loyal/close to him too, got killed by children playing war

- Know many languages : Spanish, French, Italian, German, English, Croatian, Serbian

- React very quickly to Denver grabbing his arm/to physical provocation was trained to react that way + probably has a sharp instinct, not shy to threaten physically and orally someone

- Answer quickly to the professor order, see him as the chief/boss and obey him. One word from him is enough, do not discuss order.

- Extremely lucky - dude crash a car and get out pretty much without a scratch - I BEG YOUR PARDON ? - the car rolled and all, what if it had deformed to the point he couldn't get out ? What if he had broken a bone in the shock and couldn't dash out ? Because you can protect yourself all you want, getting in a crash, even one you plan, is very dangerous. Dude was like 'I have things to do and nothing will prevent me from doing them' and just walked out like nothing happened. Wtf man ?

- Has a lot of respect for the professor and to his plan. Will defend the plan when the professor wants to take risk but still follow change in plans if the risk is less than the gain (When they fight after Lisbon 'death' and then go into the crowd disguised.).

- Try to provide emotional support to the professor, he is clumsy about it but do his best and tries a lot of things

- Caring toward the professor, with (and I'm sorry but I don't know how to say it differently, but..) A certain tenderness. Like anybody in the group (or most) they are not just colleagues. But there is just a softness with him.

- React to Palermo 'Boum Boum Ciao' the same way the professor does. Seem annoyed, middly ashamed but also taken by the energy around (to crack a smile like the professor).

- Can be very intimidating if choose to, but in relaxed situation seem very kind/soft and not unbearing or obnoxious/showing.

- Extrapolations on Canon, Theories and Headcanons -

- The last hit he gave the professor when they were fighting is not because he misread the situation but because the professor just said Lisbon could betray them (which is technically true) and his hit was his way to say, 'have some faith/respect in your wife'

- During that fight he intentionally took hit from the professor to allow him to unload stress/give him a win. Why ? Because he is a trained ex-soldier who clearly shows good physical abilities, he knows how to fight and could probably take on Sergio even if he know how to fight too. Prior to this we see two scenes. One in a relaxed sitting (the soccer match) where Helsinki give him a slap and he doesn't react badly, he takes the hit and laugh, they were in front of each other he could have potentially avoid the hit, but did not hold grudges for that hit, basically taking a hit or two is not much for him and won’t be enough for him to get angry/escalate a situation. BUT during the pig scene to remove a micro, he reacts badly to physical provocation by Denver after he had to defend his position not to touch the animal with the rest of the team. Even if just a few said something, the whole team was baffled by his decision/principle, it was a moment where he was 'alone against all' and he defended himself in a quick and efficient manner.

They are in a middle of a heist, they are allies and he clearly does not want to fight, he fights because Sergio wants to fight and he probably doesn't give his all but just enough not to get bullied and give Sergio a mean to keep unleashing on him. (Man I swear you're doing too much)

- Definitely have some trauma and problem concerning human and trust. In two separate points, he has lost a lot or enough, and he had been deeply hurt by that (his friends all dead, his animals), probably have some unhealed emotional scars or one that heal badly and one way to cope is to keep a bit of distance + he seems to have a certain discipline/restrain in general.

Second, he mistrust humans, he is careful around them. Probably (definitely) has seen a large panel of the worst humanity has to offer. Probably don't trust easily but love when someone proves him they are worth trusting - which I think is what happened with the professor. Otherwise probably work alone or keep some distance.

- Jumping on that. He completely agreed to the professor as the boss, and his boss. Coming from a military background, he is used to having someone above him giving order and he answer promptly to the professor order or demand without questioning it/arguing (except when it touch to something the professor explicitly stated they should not do like improvisation, then he will argue). Overall he trusts him, might even admire him or have a deep respect for him and his plan/what de does/his personality.

-> I also believe his personality is one of a 'shadow' by that I mean he is his best as close support to someone/something acting behind for the good of the plan (which he does in the series), but I think he thrives in that role. He is a real doer. Dude will do anything that need to be done. like, he is perfect for a second, with someone above him to direct the action.

- Always had a good relationship to animals, now it had become a coping mechanism and a way to have companionship without the burden of 'human' nature. Not that he doesn't miss more close relationship to humans. Nor is it not painful when he loses someone or an animal close to him. it's just he find solace in animals compagny.

- Very soft, kind, caring inside. He let that out for the people he care about/trust. We see him mostly with the professor and above it being his role to care for the professor and all the 'beside' matter and needs. There are a lot of moments where he is very attentive to the professor or caring in ways that go above a professional setting (I'm sorry but when in the latest season when he put the cover back on Sergio as he sleep.. Such tenderness I swear ! or the way he tries to offer him emotional comfort/help)

-> Also the way he care for Sofia..

- Give off asexual vibe, sorry not sorry but it's true. That man is ace.

- Why is he on the heist ? I think outside of money and personal material gain he might be in for revenge against the system. He was a soldier, an executor in the government hands, he may want to fuck the system, give shit to a system that has used him, that took a lot from him. Maybe he was betrayed by that government and the people in it, root for his mistrust of human or just added enough to a preexisting base.

- The way he reacts physically and violently to Denver grabbing him when he turn away is very telling. He has a strong instinct and sharp reflex. But also definitely found himself in a situation where this would have been a life of death situation or overall high danger. This is absolutely pure speculation but outside of his work as a soldier and now hitman this reaction could be rooted deeper in child abuse and trauma, which could also reflect to his discreet and unshowing personality, he keeps to himself.

Anyway this looked like reflexes from training and from past traumatic experience. -> In a way his reaction seemed a bit too much (definitely) for the situation they were in, but also somewhat 'slow' (I'm interpreting too much the acting but whatever) as if he thought about reacting the way he did, nearly didn't but still did because he was pissed off from earlier and had been triggered. So he just decided to go with the outburst, and set his position straight.

-> Being grabbed from behind/prevented from leaving might also be from a fear/trigger to be trapped (the way he place himself behind in the class, close to the door (which could be nothing lol x) )). Which could also be tied to his time in military where his agency had been stripped from him completely/where he was lacking freedom and had to do things he didn't want to do.

- A big BIG softy, but also those hands have killed and will kill again. (in a way him and Helsinki are a bit alike)

- Keeps most of his emotions inside, tend to stay mostly neutral and what he show is just the tip of the iceberg, but don't be fooled, that man have a lot of emotions.

- Probably need a lot of time to open up, but do info dump at time when he think it might be relevant (ex: during the pig scene, or in the car with Sergio after Lisbon 'death') and you're like 'what ?' very likely need to be asked question if you want to know things about him.

- He likes honesty, but probably won't be himself, tend to be secretive, probably a good liar. He will be honest on a few important things otherwise...

- That man way of love his act of service x)

#LA CASA DE PAPEL #MONEY HEIST #MARSEILLE #MARSELLA #LCDP #EL PROFESSOR #SERGIO MARQUINA

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movienotesbyzawmer · 3 years ago

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August 30: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol

(previous notes: Mission: Impossible III)

I bet the powers that be at the Mission: Impossible movie factory didn't lose any sleep over the stupid colon in the title that screws everything up. I mean, just look at that up there with the colon after my date, then the colon in the middle of the OG title, and then it's like, well, you can do whatever you want with punctuation but we're adding a subtitle after it now and you just have to deal with it. On posters and stuff it's just "Mission: Impossible" and then underneath those words they put "Ghost Protocol" so they don't have to deal with it. What a mess. I tell you it is a damn mess is what it is.

Anyway, we have arrived at the M:I movie that, more than any of the others, just really hit the spot for me when I saw it upon its original release. I saw it at the end of a frustrating and tiring work day and it was exactly what the doctor ordered. At some point in the middle I realized that I was enjoying it thoroughly without having to tolerate the kinds of flaws that were apparently part and parcel of this kind of movie. Maybe there were flaws that I just wasn't registering. We'll soon see.

Continuing the tradition of making very hip choices for the directing duties, here we have the live-action directorial debut of Brad Bird, who started off directing episodes of The Simpsons before moving on to no less than The Iron Giant and The Incredibles. Dude had two Oscars on his mantle by the time he showed up for this. Press play already!

Um Sweet Christ those opening shots look gook in 4K like HOO boy

Whoa, neat opening where Sawyer from Lost is chased off the top of a building in Budapest but his jacket deploys an air mattress right as he almost-hits, but then he's shot by Lea Seydoux in an alley, rat-a-tat-tat with the action here, like what is up

Simon Pegg is back, and he's being tricksy with the tech in a prison! He's opening cell doors and the prisoners are surprised and delighted with that twist! He plays them a jazz standard on the intercom and Ethan Hunt suavely emerges from one of the cells. Fun silly things ensue involving Ethan's rebellious and confident independent strategy and a small riot that seems kind of like a bar fight.

He has made a pal in the joint and he's breaking him out. Some kind of cool tech creates a really sweet vortex-y hole in the floor and they are swooped up by their helpers, it's fun.

We're introduced to Paula Patton who is a new team member, and then the credits roll, and they are spirited in a way that recalls the first movie, also showing real scenes from later in the movie.

Flashback to the thing that was happening with Sawyer shows how that botched operation, something about a file and a courier, got Sawyer killed because lots of bad guys were all over the place there. AR contact lens technology figures prominently, and that is a good idea (plus we totally might have those soon, right?).

0:18:16 - Once again we begin the movie without the leading lady from the previous one, but we're starting to get an explanation here. Or just a tease of one I guess.

And quickly we get a sneaky-style self-destructing message that sets up that Ethan has to disguise himself as a specific Russian and sneak into the actual Kremlin. This movie 100% gets what a Mission: Impossible movie is supposed to be.

This time, they aren't using fancy masks or voice shifter things, just costumes and a fake mustache. They comment about that in the dialogue but don't explain why.

0:24:52 - Dialogue mixed SO QUIET here I have no idea what SP just said. It seems like you're supposed to have heard it.

But that is quickly forgotten when they use the coolest spy gadget of them all - a screen that is placed in a corridor that makes the guy at the other end of the corridor think it’s the corridor, but it's a screen and SP & Ethan are hiding behind it and it is super super neato I love it

Then just when it's cool that that is going well, it's suddenly cool how NOT well it's going because someone is spying on their spycraft! The thing they were going to heist isn't there, and someone deliberately makes their comms thing be heard by the bad guys!

And THEN we see something we really didn't think we'd see and it is kind of mind blowing - Ethan escapes from the Kremlin with a very smooth quick-change of his disguise that we see him do in all one shot… but then the Kremlin totally explodes and it explodes all over Ethan as he's running away! It looks amazing!

Right after that there is some fun with subtitles - Ethan is in the hospital all damaged and concussed and stuff, and the news is talking about the obvious big story, and the subtitles are in Russian. At first I was like, "hey is my home theater tech busted?" but no, the subtitles become gradually more in English as Ethan starts to come out of it. Then we see with subtitles that Ethan is reading lips about the police people that want to be bad guys to Ethan.

After Ethan escapes, we shift to a wholesome-looking Russian family we haven't seen before. The scene is a nice little piece of drama about how the dad sees the Kremlin news and wants to get the family out of there, and very quickly that goes south and thugs have them all at gunpoint, it's nicely done

Ethan is being extracted by two new characters played by accomplished, Oscar-nominated actors Tom Wilkinson and Jeremy Renner… the conversation is dire and I don't want to type during it gahhh gah gah gah I am watching because holy shit this goes south too! TW informs Ethan that the DoD is going to frame him for blowing up the Kremlin and his only choice is to escape. He's telling him HOW to escape in a funny way, but they are attacked and it's visually very interesting and TW is headshot and they are in the water and it is such bad news for Ethan and his new colleague played by Mr. Renner, I probably typoed a lot during that because it was so hard to look away.

So Ethan is on the hook for the terrorist attack of the century and he's being chased by a little battalion of thugs who just shot that important spy boss, and he's in Russia. It is very not good for Ethan.

He's with JR and JR is playing a different character for him. He's a bookish analyst guy who feels very out of place in action-land.

We're learning about the main bad guy, Hendricks, who was the guy that screwed everything up in the Kremlin. He's a super-smart theoretical physicist or something who has big, well-thought-out ideas about destroying the world with nukes, and he took nuke codes from the Kremlin. So things are just really really hairy and it's effective storytelling is what I'm saying.

Also effective is that they met up with SP and PP on a neat secret train car thing that is well appointed with spy gear

And VERY VERY EFFECTIVE is what happens next, which is a series of establishing shots of Dubai which KILL ON MY TV. I am glad I have a 4K panel, kids. This begins what I recall as being an extended sequence of sweet-ass suspense. Ethan has to break into a server room by climbing the outside of the 130th floor of the Burj Khalifa using glove-gadget tech that will hopefully work. There is at least some actual Tom Cruise clinging to the side of that building. It's so cool looking. And to make matters worse, a dust storm approaches! Or should I say "to make matters even cooler looking". Yes I should. Please read that part.

Paula Patton's character seems underdeveloped so far, especially compared to her teammates Simon Pegg and Jeremy Renner.

Jeez you guys, if you like suspenseful action scenes about barely surviving climbing a skyscraper this movie is for you.

1:05:34 - In the middle of a tense conversation we see that they were using the maskmaker but it wasn't working. They just don't want us to have mask fun in this movie. They hate mask fun. Why does Brad Bird hate mask fun.

Oh then this scene which is neat - bad guys are meeting with LS… but Ethan and JR are taking their place, and PP is taking LS's place for the real bad guys one floor down. The movie explains it better than me, but it is pretty exciting, the two meetings happening at the same time with opposite trickery.

Hah, SP does a sweet fake-hand trick to get the diamonds from the bad guys so he can get them to Ethan and JN, and JN is doing the thing where he uses the contact lens tech… gosh why are you even reading this, just watch the movie. I really like the tricksy espionage.

It all falls apart because LS spots the contact lens in JR's eye. The plot is moving along in a way that, I'm once again noticing, would normally require more half-assed-ness. It's just a solid spy plot. Which probably makes these notes more boring. Poor you.

LS dies by getting kicked out of the open window of the Burj Khalifa with a brewing sandstorm in the background! Neat looking!

And then a thing where Ethan is in a thick dust cloud and he's tracking the important paper thing with his tracker device, and it starts moving quickly at him and we realize just as it's too late that it's in a car that's gonna run him over! Then that mechanic gets used in a car chase in a dust storm, which we don't see very often outside a Mad Max movie, and that climaxes in a really cool looking collision, followed by the reveal that one of the nuclear code bad guys was Hendricks in a supermask. So we DO like mask fun after all! Except why do we care that it was Hendricks?

A scene where JR is confronted for maybe being a double-crosser has a beautifully choreographed gun-get-grabbity-grab thing that was probably super fun for the actors.

1:27:05 - JR tells a story that at first we think is that family we saw briefly almost scramming, but no, he's talking about Ethan, and what seems to be a story about Ethan's wife (Julia from the last movie) getting killed in Croatia, and Ethan killing six Serbians for revenge, and that's why he was in prison in the beginning? It's still a little mysterious and kind of complicated. It doesn't quite fit with what we think we know.

Dubai imagery is pretty. I have been to Dubai. I am standing by for your marriage proposals now.

I didn't really follow how we got to this point, but Ethan went for a walk and met with some underworld Dubai person and made a deal the ended up with a huge cache of spy gear and a private plane to India. I went to India like right after Dubai. I have my own car and a job kind of so you might need to calm your hormones at this point.

A probing exchange with PP establishes that indeed Ethan's story is that he killed the men who killed his wife. Doesn't really seem legit, though. There's more to the story, clearly.

One of the tech things they play with on the plane is the most magic-seeming one. It is a suit that looks like tight chain-mail, and it floats over a cart, like a magic carpet that you wear.

We're introduced to Brij Nath, whose name I had to look up so I could tell you how it is spelled. He has an access code that they need, which seems like they just kind of simplified the situation, and he's one of those only-kinda-bad bad guys that's really just a pawn, for our heroes as well as for these storytellers.

The wearable magic carpet gadget is fun and funny! SP has to remote control JR wearing the floaty-suit and JR is trying not to freak out too badly, and maybe on purpose it recalls the scene from the first movie where Tom Cruise hovers parallel to the floor.

Hendricks is now in a secret room in the place where they all are, and he has a bad-guy briefcase computer and orders some subordinates to do something with a virus, and I don't actually understand what's really happening but am I to believe that Ethan et al are thwarting literal nuclear terrorism here in Mumbai? Right here at this pleasant party at the palace of an only kinda-bad bad guy?

1:48:30 - Ha, the climax of the wearable magic carpet thing involves JR barely surviving by doing an acrobatic stunt that seems oddly intuitive and satisfying. You'll just have to watch the movie to know what I mean.

The spy-tech car they have is rad.

They fail to prevent the launch of a nuclear missile! We see it come out of the sub and start missiling toward its destination which we have learned is California! Hendricks mutters things about how that should get the ball rolling making world powers hate each other and nuke each other and may there be peace on Earth, he also, yes, says that.

A chase on foot has Ethan and Hendricks suddenly brawling on an exotically elegant robotic parking ramp. Platforms move around mechanically and transfer unmanned cars to different areas, and it is against that video gamey backdrop that Ethan and Hendricks struggle to get that sinister suitcase which is all bouncing around that environment. Unexpectedly, Ethan's hope of grabbing it is thwarted by Hendricks suicide-jumping down several stories! We see it! He definitely does that! Ethan drives a car off a thing to follow him, plummeting down hood-first, and the airbag saves him! He gets the briefcase and barely saves the day in time!

Again a denouement making it very clear that everything is really shockingly okay and tidied up. Even the thing with Ethan revenge-killing Serbians and the thing with his wife is cleaned way up, but with an elegance and sweetness that elevates this movie above the others. She's not dead after all, just fake-dead for her protection. And they're only where they are in Seattle so he can glimpse her lovingly across a marina.

So! I feel strongly that this is the best Mission: Impossible movie! It is an extraordinarily deftly-constructed spy thriller! It's got all the funnest types of things that are in the other movies, and other fun spy thrillers, but with so much less garbage! They did a great job and they should be proud.

#Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol

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bktynes-writes · 4 years ago

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Hey friends! Chapter 2 is up because I’m impatient and didn’t wanna wait to post until Tuesday. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters. Read on ao3.

The Blood of the Covenant

Chapter 2: Drinks

Dean's mouth had gone dry. He sat, frozen, hand clasped firmly in the grip of the man in front of him. He was dimly aware of the fact that he had taken far to long to respond, and the look Castiel was giving him now made him even more painfully aware of the knot forming in his stomach.

Novak. The name rang in his ears. He composed himself and managed to shake the man's hand before withdrawing his own and lifting his glass.

"Novak, huh? What is that, Serbian?" He grinned at the surprised look that crossed the face of the other man.

"Yes, actually." He turned back to face the bar. "Most people don't get that the first try."

Dean chanced a glance at him from the corner of his eye and caught the small smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. Something in Dean's chest tightened as he wondered what it would be like to see him smile in earnest.

"So, Castiel, do you make a habit of jumping into random people's bar fights?" Dean asked. He motioned to Lee for another round. The alcohol in his veins made him less aware that he was sitting with a potential rival and more aware of how attractive he found the man.

"No, I can't say that I do," Castiel replied. "But I'm new in town. And I like this bar. I would rather it not be sullied by unsavoury company." He thanked Lee with a nod as he placed down two bottles of beer on the bar.

"Well, Dean here is about the most 'unsavoury' as it usually gets in here, and you seem to have made his acquaintance rather nicely." Lee provided with a smirk.

"Dean," Castiel said to no one in particular. It was like he was testing the name, rolling it around on his tongue to see how it felt, and when he let it loose from behind is lips in that low growl of a voice, Dean felt his knees wobble, making him very thankful for the stool under him.

"Right, yeah. Dean Smith," He introduced himself, and he didn't miss the look from Lee who, mercifully, did not comment at his use of a pseudonym. "Sales representative with Sandover Enterprises." He smiled.

"Sandover?" Castiel questioned. "The steel distributor?"

"The very one," Dean replied, raising his beer to Lee and giving him a look that he hoped conveyed the importance of his silence. It must have worked because Lee turned and busied himself cutting limes on the back bar.

"I see." Said Castiel. "Tell me, Dean, can I often expect to have to jump in and save you from brutes prowling alleyways and backwater establishments? No offence." He added to Lee, who raised his hands in surrender and continued to obviously ignore their conversation.

Dean chuckled. "No, I'm usually good on my own, Cas. It's just been a long day."

Castiel's lips twitched at the use of the nickname. "Ah. I understand. The last few weeks have been...exhausting."

"Oh yeah?" Dean looked the man up and down, letting his eyes linger slightly on his broad shoulders, his throat where his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and back to his impossibly blue eyes. "You don't look like a labourer. And I'm guessing this whole tax accountant thing you've got going isn't the case either from the way you swing a punch. What do you do?" He felt like he was in grade school trying to make friends again, asking what their favourite colour was.

"My family..." Castiel began, pausing and looking down at his drink. "Let's just say we've got varied interests." He smiled slyly at Dean, who was suddenly very aware of how his hands were itching to reach out and thread themselves through Castiel's hair. He kept them clasped tightly around the cold glass of his beer bottle instead.

"Well, maybe it's a good thing I ran into you then, Cas," Dean drawled. He let his tongue dart out quickly to wet his lips and didn't miss the way Castiel's eyes flicked down at the movement. "I've got some 'varied interests' of my own."

Dean could see the man's pupils dilate over the bottle that hung at his mouth. There was a distinct red tinge to his cheeks as his eyes flitted across Dean's face, from his lips to his eyes to his throat, back to his lips. Dean pulled his lower lip between his teeth and smiled at the nearly inaudible gasp that escaped the other man.

Dean heard Lee cough, fake and dramatic, behind him. He grimaced as the trance Castiel's eyes held over him was broken. Cas shook himself and turned his face from Dean to peer sheepishly at Lee, who was now smirking at both of them.

"Well, Mr. Smith, thank you for this...eventful evening. When I say the pleasure was mine, I mean it most sincerely." He took one last long swig from his beer and clambered off of his seat. "Perhaps if I'm lucky, I'll get the chance to see you again." He turned on his heel, trenchcoat billowing behind him as the breeze from the door caught it. Then he was gone.

"Dean Smith?" Lee chided. "Really?"

Dean didn't realize he had turned to watch him leave until he heard Lee speak. He spun around to see a knowing smirk plastered across his face and rolled his eyes.

"What?" Dean scowled, taking a few more gulps from his beer.

"Nothing, man, nothing..." Lee chuckled. "Just the next time you eye fuck a dude at the bar, you should probably have the decency to give him your real name. Maybe your number?"

"Shut up." Dean groaned. "I just heard about the Novaks tonight at dinner, okay? Bela says they're trying to start a war in her district, and Sam and I are supposed to 'deal' with them." He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes until stars popped behind them. "Why did it have to be Novak..." He said quietly.

Lee roared with laughter. "Because you, Winchester, invite trouble wherever you go, and I have seen that look on your face before."

Dean flipped Lee the bird and reached over to take Castiel's abandoned beer bottle. "Yeah? What look is that?"

"You think he's cute, and you wanna feed him shots until he's drunk enough to let you blow him behind the dumpsters at Antoni's on 64th St." Lee raised an eyebrow as Dean choked on his mouthful of beer.

"That is...oddly specific," Dean said when he recovered.

"Only because it's the same way you used to look at me." Lee shrugged and turned back to his limes as Dean glowered at him. "And that's specifically what happened with us."

"That was thirteen years ago, Lee," Dean said, his voice dropping. "Things are different now."

"I know, I know. Things change, people change even more," Lee glanced over his shoulder, the same shit-eating smirk as before stuck on his face, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes, "you've always been a hopeless romantic Dean, no matter how much you hate to admit it. And I like to think, after all this time, I know you pretty well, sometimes even better than you know yourself."

Dean looked away as Lee made a few more drinks for some of the other patrons. He couldn't bring himself to look him in the eyes. He was right; Dean did find Castiel attractive.

It was getting late, and as more people rolled in off the street to escape the rapidly cooling night, Lee became too busy to chat with Dean any longer. He finished the two bottles of beer in front of him, bid Lee a quick farewell with a promise to come back again soon, and departed.

He was rather tipsy now, and the alcohol sloshed warmly in his stomach as he walked back through the city towards downtown. He wasn't ready to go home yet, but the conversation with Lee had left him feeling less than willing to engage in meaningful human interaction, and he knew there was a strip club a few blocks away that might offer just the distraction he needed.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and pulled out a crushed pack of menthol cigarettes. Dean didn't often smoke, but the alcohol combined with the thoughts in his head had him craving the sweet sting of nicotine. He stopped on the corner and lit one of the white paper tubes, hissing on the inhale as the minty smoke filled his lungs.

What did Lee know? So what if he thought the dark-haired, blue-eyed man in the trenchcoat was cute? He was a Novak, and if Bela was to be trusted - which he quickly reminded himself was questionable - that made him the enemy. Still...Dean found himself thinking more and more explicitly about Castiel as he continued to walk.

Would his pupils blow wide with desire and blackout that gorgeous blue if Dean touched him in just the right way? What would his already messy hair look like after having had fingers run through it a few times? How would Dean's name sound, groaned and gasped, in that rough voice, made deeper by lust? What would those chapped, pink lips look like slick with spit, wrapped around his -

"Hey! Watch it, buddy!" Shouted a voice as Dean's shoulder bumped into another man on the sidewalk. "Fuckin' drunk..."

Dean couldn't even be bothered to respond to the man he had walked into. He really had been deep in his thoughts. Looking up, he realized his feet had once again carried him unconsciously to his destination, and he praised his knowledge of the city for allowing him to lose himself without getting lost.

Rowena's club was one of Dean's favourite places - second only to his car - and the buzzing neon sign above the door was music to his ears. Emerald green cursive spelled out "Eden" and turned into a snake coiled around a deep red apple missing a single bite. Dean delighted in the sacrilegious nature of the name. Given the activities that went on behind its doors, it suited the place. The knowledge that Rowena had chosen "Eden" to be intentionally heretical brought a smile to his face; even in Catholic school, Dean had never had much respect for the bible.

He cut the line with a curt nod to the bouncer and walked through the doors into the dimly lit club. Dean felt the tension of the evening evaporate from his limbs as soon as the pervading scent of cherries and tequila washed over him. The black brick walls and tables draped in blood-red velvet made the room feel smaller than it really was. It was hardly past midnight, and yet every table was full of men, mostly suits from the business district here to pretend their sexless marriages weren't failing. Dean snorted. Sam could have his apple-pie life with Jess; at least Dean would never end up like these poor schmucks.

Out of habit, he scanned the crowd and saw a few familiar faces, but thankfully no sparkling blue eyes and no trenchcoats in sight. The brightest source of light came from the rotating floodlights on the main stage. Dean supposed that keeping everything in shadow allowed people to feel more comfortable here. After all, a strip club may be fine and well, but when the money changed hands and gentlemen were lead to back rooms by beautiful ladies, it was best that no one knew each other's names in the morning.

A young woman in her early twenties gyrated and slowly removed her clothes on the main stage to the beat of the rock music blaring through the speakers. Dean couldn't help but watch her as she moved, dark hair falling over pale skin as she thrust her hips sinfully against the stage. Dean once again found his mind wandering, and he forced himself to engage the bartender in conversation as a means of distracting himself.

"Hey there, handsome," She said to him as he sidled up to the bar. "What's your poison?"

Dean noticed the way she leaned enticingly on the bar as she spoke, shoulders back, chest out in invitation for him to stare. He let his gaze linger for a moment before returning her suggestive smirk.

"Just a water for now, darlin'," he said. He could feel the whiskey from Lee's slowly soaking into his brain, clouding his judgement.

"Aw, you're no fun," the bartender pouted, placing a glass in front of him and filling it with water from the gun attached to the bar. "What, are you some kinda teetotaler or something?"

"Nah, nothing like that," Dean chuckled. "Just had a few already and wouldn't wanna forget your pretty face."

The bartender smiled coyly and extended her hand for him to shake. "Pamela." She said.

"Dean." He replied, taking her hand delicately in his own. "Do you just mix drinks around here, or can I look forward to seeing you on the stage later?"

She laughed. "I dabble. But tonight's not my night. I get off around three though, and uh, well, if you're still around, maybe you can too." She winked at him before being called down the bar. Dean watched her walk away, the sway of her hips capturing his attention.

"Well, well, well..." Dean heard the unmistakable accent drawl from behind him. "A Winchester. Alone in my club. To what do I owe the honour?"

Rowena was a tiny woman who had come from Scotland and made quite the name for herself in America's lucrative sex industry. She ran a tight ship with her girls, who did everything from stripping to pornography to escort work, and, in the case of Ruby and a few others, the occasional special favour for the Winchesters. No man controlled Rowena or her girls, and if anyone ended up on the wrong side of the devious little redhead, they were likely to find themselves in a sealed box at the bottom of the river.

"Rowena," Dean stated simply, rotating his chair to face her as she stepped closer to him. Her red gown caught what little light the club offered and shimmered.

"I expected I'd be getting a visit from you boys soon." She sighed heavily and waved to Pamela, who nodded and brought her a martini glass of something pink and fruity-looking. "I was hoping it would be Samuel coming to call, but I guess you'll do."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Dean asked, sitting up straighter in his seat.

"Well, I suppose it's his well-muscled arms, his gorgeous hair, his tall, strong physique..." She mused, sipping her drink with a smirk.

"No, not that, Rowena, and ew," Dean cringed. "Why were you expecting us?

"Perhaps because of those Novak boys that Miss Talbot had Ruby go looking into." Her face darkened. "I don't know what she was thinking, but that poor girl came back beat half to death. She was a good dancer, always made a lot of money on her nights..."

"Where is she now?" Dean asked. "I wanna know what happened."

"Ah, well, we agreed it was probably for the best if Ruby took some time out of town." Rowena swirled the liquid in her glass and looked away from Dean to the stage. "I have other dancers that can fill her slot for the time being."

"Where is she?" Dean asked again, an edge to his voice that made Rowena glare.

"Not here, Winchester. And if you think for a moment that I'm so disloyal to my girls that I would tell you where she's gone, then you are sorely mistaken." She defended. Dean didn't push the issue. Her mind was made up, and there was no amount of bargaining or coercion that would change it.

"Alright, so why don't you tell me what happened then?" He directed. Rowena pursed her lips into a thin line. She was the only person Dean had ever met who could rival him and his brother for stubbornness.

Rowena sighed. "Oh, why not. The more, the merrier, I suppose." She gestured to a table next to the bar where an attractive young man stood guard, keeping the table open. She waved at Pamela for more drinks and slid into the booth's bench, touching the young man's arm gently as she did. When they were seated comfortably and had been presented with a fresh round of drinks - Pamela had ignored Dean's continued request for water and had brought him another glass of whiskey - Rowena continued. "What do you want to know?"

Dean wasted no time. "The Novaks." He said. "Who are they?"

"I can't say that I know too much, honestly." She purred. "But after the incident with Ruby, I did a little research. It would seem that the father, Chuck, had a wife years ago, Naomi, who was killed in some kind of gang war. He became obsessed with revenge and took over a good chunk of Newark, eliminating the gangs, building the communities, doing all sorts of goodwill charity work, all with funds gathered through several nefarious means."

"What sort of means?" Dean asked again.

She sipped her drink slowly before she continued. "Standard fare. Murder for hire, arms dealing, the occasional art heist. If I had to guess, that'd be what made him target Bela in the first place. I don't know if you've noticed, but that woman can be a wee bit hard to handle. Not the type to make many friends." Dean snorted. He had no arguments there.

"Now, Chuck and Naomi had four sons before she passed. Apparently, everyone is a bloody Catholic because they named them all after archangels, the poor boys. Chuck started sort of 'collecting' street kids who had lost their families to the gang wars. He took them in, made them a home, and built his own family, not out of associates and partners like you lot, but an actual family of brothers and sisters." She pushed her glass away and leaned forward into Dean, dropping her voice barely above a whisper. Dean had to move even closer to catch her words as the music from the club's speakers continued to fill his senses. "They are ruthless. Especially the four oldest brothers. They will fight and kill and bleed for their family, and they will smile while they're doing it. You think you and Samuel are close? You've got nothing on these boys."

Dean swallowed hard. Rowena wasn't one to exaggerate her claims. If she said the Novaks were dangerous, he had no reason not to believe her. "How much of a threat are they?" He asked bluntly.

"Well, they certainly aren't a problem you should ignore." She smirked. "But, I do have a feeling that some of that Winchester charm could come in handy." She reached out and tapped Dean lightly on the tip of his nose.

"Thanks, Rowena," Dean said, slipping out of the booth. "And if you see or hear anything else..."

"I'll be sure to call you, quick as a whip." She said sarcastically. He nodded and headed towards the door. Pamela's earlier proposition rang in his ears, and, as much as he wished he could stay and accept, his gut was telling him to return home and relay the information from Rowena to his brother.

He staggered out into the alley again and rubbed his hands together to stave off the rapidly cooling September night. He thought about calling Benny for a ride. The Winchester bodyguard could always be relied upon to answer his phone at any hour and never say no to Dean. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned. The screen displayed several missed calls from Sam and a few from his mother. He grinned widely. They were probably calling him to chastise him for not being present for Sam's proposal.

Quickly tapping open the screen, he dialled his brother's number. It only rang once before Sam's voice came through the other end.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean beamed into the phone, staggering a little on the uneven sidewalk. "So? Did she say yes? Is my baby brother getting married?"

"Yeah, Dean, she did. Where are you?" Sam huffed into the phone.

"Out," Dean stated. "Celebrating on your behalf."

"Are-are you drunk?" Sam stammered into the phone.

"I mean, pshhh, maybe? A bit?" Dean smiled. He was feeling great. Who cared about that pretty-eyed guy in the trenchcoat at Lee's? Dean didn't care. And he didn't care that he didn't care. "Listen, I talked to Rowena and - " Sam cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"Jesus Christ, Dean!" Sam yelled into the phone, and Dean immediately began to lose whatever happy buzz he had gained through the night. Sam never yelled at him. "It is 2am, and I've been trying to call you for HOURS! I even called Lee's, but he said you left before midnight, and now you're wasted downtown by yourself and I just..." There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Dean could hear Sam taking deep breaths to calm down.

"Hey, hey, Sammy, listen, I'm okay." He tried desperately to soothe his brother's worries. The panic in Sam's tone had sobered him, and he transformed immediately into Big Brother. His primary focus was back on protecting his little brother, making sure he wasn't afraid. "Everything is fine. I'm not wasted, just a little buzzed. I'm gonna call Benny for a ride and head back to my place. I'll text you when I'm home and call you in the morning, okay?"

"No, Dean," Sam said weakly into the phone, "it's not okay."

Any remaining happiness Dean had from the alcohol was extinguished. His feet stopped moving, and his own voice seemed distant as he spoke. "What's wrong, Sammy? What happened?"

Sam sounded like he was speaking through a tub of water. "It's Dad. You need to get home."

Tags: @valleydean @fighterfortheforgotten

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn fic #deancas fanfic #deancas fic #destiel mafia au #destiel fic #tw: alcohol #tw: blood #tw: smoking #borderline nsfw???#idk i mention blowjobs...

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xtruss · 4 years ago

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Diggers, Denial and Despair: The Macabre Story of the Srebrenica Cover-up!

“A Genocide of Muslims By the Criminal Christian Serb Forces!”

— Alastair Sloan, Peter Oborne | 6 May, 2017 | Middleeasreye.Net

Bosnian Serb genocide deniers are being courted by the Trump White House. Could rising anti-Muslim hatred in Europe lead to another killing spree?

TUZLA, Bosnia-Herzegovina — There is no ventilation in the room where they keep the bodies. There is no central heating in the room the forensics team work in. The cleaners were laid off long ago because there is no money to pay them. The plumbing in one of the lavatories is bust. The rent has gone unpaid for 12 months. The building is a dreary industrial unit with uncleaned windows and broken shutters.

Welcome to the International Commission on Missing Persons in Tuzla where earnest and stretched forensic anthropologists try to identify the victims of the Srebrenica genocide.

'He said he wanted to kill me, he chased us across the field cursing my dead children ... The police did nothing; this is Srpska now'

We had blithely assumed that the international community - and the governments of both Bosnia-Herzegovina and Serbia - would have ensured that the organisation working to find mass graves, painstakingly identify the bodies and then inform the families, would be adequately funded until the very last victim was found. We were wrong: "We wanted to get sniffer dogs to find the remaining graves," the only staff member in the building told us, "but we couldn't afford it."

The rundown building is a perfect metaphor for a genocide that is forgotten by many, ignored by others, and completely denied by many of those most closely involved.

Dragana Vucetic, a 36-year-old Serb, is the director of the centre. A forensic anthropologist by training, she was a child in Belgrade during the terrible civil wars that ripped apart the Balkans in the 1990s.

Dragana joined the International Commission on Missing Persons straight after university and has worked tirelessly in the 13 years since.

Bida Smajlovic, 64, survivor of July 1995 massacre in Srebrenica, stands at a memorial center in Potocari, on March 24, 2016, while pointing at the name of her husband, engraved among names of other victims of the massacre. (AFP)

She showed us half a skeleton in a room next door to the mortuary, laid out on an aluminium table. She holds up a "skeletal inventory" in which they track the bones. Most of the diagram is red, indicating the bones that are missing. "It's a relief every time we identify someone," said Dragana. She described what she knew about the human remains in front of her. They belonged to a male, who was probably killed with a gunshot to the head.

Thanks to modern DNA techniques, the International Commission on Missing Persons has been able to identify him, even though much of his body is missing.

His family have been informed, and they are now ready to bury the remains. Many families, however, delay for years, waiting for more bones to be found. The reason for the majority of these delays is macabre.

Mass Graves Dispersed With Diggers

As Serbian paramilitaries found themselves hounded by international investigators intent on bringing the murderers to justice, they would carve up the mass graves at night with diggers, move the soil and bones to secondary sites, and then perhaps move them again for good measure.

The skeletons of Srebrenica were therefore spread across mass graves up to 20 kilometres apart.

It dawned on us that the genocide had actually worked

In the mortuary we see half a jaw with five teeth left in a semi-translucent plastic bag. On the shelves above each set of remains are corresponding brown paper bags containing whatever clothes, wallets or other scraps of belongings may have belonged to that person.

Most of the mass graves are now thought to have been found, but Dragana tells us there are one, "perhaps two”, still to go. Now that funding has dried up, they may never be discovered.

From Tuzla we drove towards Srebrenica, some 32 kilometres to the southeast, a haunting journey through villages that had been ethnically cleansed by Bosnian Serb forces and Serb militias during the war. Many Bosnian Muslims have left forever, while newly built churches mark Bosnian Serb possession of the territory.

We also realised that that we were taking the same journey – only in the reverse direction – as the so-called "Death March" of 11 July 1995 when 10,000 Bosnian Muslims fled Srebrenica towards Tuzla after UN forces refused to protect them. Of those 10,000, some 7,000 were killed by Serbian forces.

Eventually we reached Srebrenica, the site of the only genocide in Europe since the Second World War. The UN camp, which failed so terribly in its task to protect, has now been turned into a museum.

As at Tuzla, we were in for a very nasty shock. We had come to Srebrenica to learn about the events that led to the genocide. Chillingly, we learnt something else as well. It dawned on us that the genocide had actually worked.

Act of Defiance

With most of the town's former Muslim residents dead or emigrated, Srebrenica is now controlled by Bosnian Serbs, the majority of whom refuse to accept that that genocide took place.

We met a survivor of the genocide who moved back to Srebrenica in an act of defiance, marrying a fellow survivor and having three children.

'They are being taught that the genocide never happened. You turn on the TV and it is like the war never ended'

"For a long time I thought we could make a life here," he told us, but now they want to move away. "Our first child is starting at the local school. They are being taught that the genocide never happened. You turn on the TV and it is like the war never ended."

Nedzad Avdic cannot doubt the genocide took place because his uncle and father, and many other male relatives, were also killed (only the bodies of his uncle and father have been found so far). His story is horrific: he himself survived after crawling away badly wounded from a mound of defenceless men who had been shot dead by the Serbs.

Nedzad Avdic survived the massacre by crawling away (Rooful Ali/MEE)

"The denial of the genocide hurts," said Mejra Dzogaz, whose sons were murdered in the hills around Srebrenica. The elderly lady told us her story in the United Nations base from which refugees were expelled by Dutch United Nations peacekeepers in the hours before the killings began.

"We are still hoping the deniers will turn round finally and think about us and all the other mothers, but all they want to do is deny. If you turn the TV on all you can hear is them denying. We cry and cry and they still deny."

The mother told us that the first time she returned to her home, a neighbour threatened her. "He said he wanted to kill me, he chased us across the field cursing my dead children. Luckily my neighbour came. The police did nothing; this is Srpska now."

Srpska is the semi-autonomous northern and eastern region of Bosnia-Herzegovina which includes Srebrenica and borders Serbia. Since the war ended Srpska has been dominated by Bosnian Serbs.

Mejra Dzogaz told us that many of the same men she remembered carrying out the killings she now sees around the town, some holding offices at the local council or senior ranks in the local police force.

"I put so much sugar in my coffee every morning," she added, "but no matter how much I put in, it still tastes bitter."

Every year, the international community gathers in the cemetery at Srebrenica to commemorate the genocide.

The ceremony remains an important reminder that a genocide in Europe has happened since the Second World War, and that leaders should always be on their guard to avoid it happening again.

Mejra Dzogas says that she still sees people responsible for the genocide walking freely in Screbenica (Rooful Ali/MEE)

This year, the preparations for the memorial must be in doubt. Last October a Bosnian Serb nationalist politician, Mladen Grujicic, was elected mayor of Srebrenica. “When they prove it to be the truth," Grujicic has said, "I’ll be the first to accept it."

Like many Bosnian Serb nationalists, he still refuses to use the word genocide about the atrocities of July 1995 - even though Srebrenica is now regarded as the most well-documented and best evidenced war crime in history.

"I always said that what happened in Srebrenica was a terrible crime against the Bosnian population and that there were also terrible crimes against the Serbian population." Grjujicic has said, adding that "I leave it to competent institutions to qualify it."

Genocide Denial

This is genocide denial. He ignores the fact that the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia have both clearly ruled the killings "genocide".

A United Nations Security Council motion proposing to condemn the Srebrenica killings as genocide in 2015 was vetoed by Russia, Serbia and Republika Srpska's ally, but both the US Congress and the European Parliament have also passed resolutions calling the massacre a genocide.

The chairman of Remembering Srebrenica, Dr Waqar Azmi, said: "It is a cruel irony that the election of a new mayor of Srebrenica, who is a genocide denier, was made possible only because of the ethnic cleansing of its Muslim population." In Serbia itself, one 2015 poll showed 54 percent people do not question the crime's brutality, but an extraordinary 70 percent still deny it was "genocide". In November 2016, Serb legislators excluded Srebrenica from a new law forbidding genocide denial more widely.

Grujicic does not hold a minority view among political leaders in both Srpska and Serbia, and Bosnian Serbs who now live in the Republika Srpska.

Once 2015 poll showed that in Serbia, 54 percent of people do not question the crime’s brutality, but 70 percent still deny it was "genocide". In November 2016, Serb legislators excluded Srebrenica from a new law forbidding genocide denial more widely.

Boak Bollocks Mladen Grujicic, mayor of Srebrenica, with Zeljka Cvijanovic, prime minister of the Republic of Srpska, at the 65th National Prayer Breakfast in Washington on 2 February 2017 (Republic of Sprska Government)

With such a palpable atmosphere of denial everywhere we went, one question lingered on - could such a crime happen again?

It is as if European Jews who survived the Holocaust had found themselves being ruled by the same criminals who denied the gas chambers existed, and who themselves had ordered the killings.

There is more than a little crossover between the anti-Muslim Chetnik Serb nationalist ideology, and anti-Jewish German Nazism.

"It was genetically deformed material that embraced Islam," Biljana Plavsic, the president of the Republika Srpska from July 1996 to November 1998 - regarded as the ideologue who provided the pseudo-intellectual underpinning for the genocide - once said.

She was later sent to The Hague and convicted of war crimes. "And now, of course, with each successive generation it simply becomes concentrated," she continued.

'It really hurts when people deny the murder of your family. It is just like a dagger to the heart, as if they never even existed'

- Lilian Black, chair of the Holocaust Survivors' Association

"It gets worse and worse. It simply expresses itself and dictates their style of thinking, which is rooted in their genes. And through the centuries, the genes degraded further."

Plavsic was a former Fulbright scholar and acclaimed biologist, lending a chilling air of scientific callousness to the "Greater Serbia" ideology of Slobodan Milosevic.

Lilian Black, the chair of the Holocaust Survivors' Association and director of the Holocaust Heritage and Learning Centre for the North, was also on the trip.

Black was shocked by the culture of denial in Srpska, and drew comparisons with her own family's experiences.

"It really hurts when people deny the murder of your family. It is just like a dagger to the heart, as if they never even existed. When we got the Nazi records from the International Tracing Service in Germany of our family’s persecution it was a truly cathartic experience," she said.

"It was like saying yes they were here and this is what happened to them. It doesn't change their fate, but it is somehow a means to helping us accept what happened."

Bosnian Serb Nationalists' Trump links

Hungary was only a few hours drive from where we were standing, where Prime Miniser Viktor Orban has recently framed his own anti-refugee policy on distinctly religious grounds.

"Those arriving have been raised in another religion, and represent a radically different culture," Orban wrote in a commentary for Frankfurt Allgemeine Zeitung, a German newspaper.

"Most of them are not Christians, but Muslims."

In December, Slovakia banned public authorities from allowing Islam to be recognised as a religion.

Potocari cemetery overlooking the old United Nations base (Rooful Ali/MEE)

In the recent Dutch election, Geert Wilders described Islam as "possibly even more dangerous than Nazism". During his election campaign, US President Donald Trump called for a "total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States".

One of the most disturbing aspects of our trip was the discovery of links between the new Trump administration and the genocide-denying tendency amongst Bosnian Serb nationalists.

Mayor Grujicic, who denies Srebrenica was a genocide, was invited to attend the prestigious National Prayer Breakfast event in Washington two weeks after Trump was inaugurated.

Grujicic said he hoped it would be "an opportunity to make contacts with some important persons, and I will try to do something useful for Srebrenica's residents".

Milorad Dodik, the president of the Republika Srpska, also received an invite to the Trump inauguration ceremony, extended by his transition team (before it was knocked down by a concerned US State Department).

'Nobody tries to argue that the Holocaust wasn't so bad because the allies also committed some war crimes'

Dodik has called Srebrenica "the greatest deception of the 20th century".

Our trip, which was organised by the British charity Remembering Srebrenica, was hosted by Bosnian Muslims who had fought or suffered greatly during the war.

Systematic Atrocities

None denied that crimes by Muslim fighters had also taken place against Serbs, but there was an important and qualitative difference between the two.

According to Azmi, who is now working on plans for a Srebrenica memorial centre in Britain, "Nobody tries to argue that the Holocaust wasn't so bad because the allies also committed some war crimes.

"Bosniak [Bosnian Muslim] war crimes were sporadic and isolated, and Bosniaks were fighting for a multi-ethnic, multi-religious society. Serb war crimes were organised and systematic, and Serbs were fighting for a mono-ethnic 'Greater Serbia'."

It is clear when you visit Srebrenica that what happened there in July 1995 was by far the greatest atrocity of the Yugoslav conflict.

It was also not an incident that can be understood simply by tracing out the mechanics of what took place minute by minute, hour by hour, on those particular days.

Srebrenica was the culmination of years of increasingly explicit anti-Muslim hate speech in the Serbian media, and in the speeches and rhetoric of figures like Slobodan Milosevic, and the Bosnian Serb political and military leaders, Radovan Karadzic and Ratko Mladic.

Milosevic, who was overthrown in 2000, was extradited to The Hague and accused of genocide and other war crimes but died before his trial concluded. Karadzic and Mladic were both captured in Serbia, in 2008 and 2011, respectively, with the former found guilty of genocide and sentenced to 40 years in prison. Mladic's trial, in which he faces two indicted for two counts of genocide, is ongoing.

Yet the strength of their anti-Muslim ideology clearly lives on in Serbia and Republika Srpska. It is this that made us wonder - could a Srebrenica-style genocide in Europe happen again?

— Alastair Sloan focuses on injustice and oppression in the West, Russia and the Middle East. He contributes regularly to The Guardian, Al Jazeera and Middle East Eye. Follow Alastair's work at www.unequalmeasures.com

— Peter Oborne was named freelancer of the year 2016 by the Online Media Awards for an article he wrote for Middle East Eye. He was British Press Awards Columnist of the Year 2013. He resigned as chief political columnist of the Daily Telegraph in 2015. His books include The Triumph of the Political Class, The Rise of Political Lying, and Why the West is Wrong about Nuclear Iran.

— The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Eye.

— Photo: A Bosnian woman mourns over a coffin of a relative at the Potocari Memorial Center near the eastern Bosnian town of Srebrenica on 10 July 2015 where 136 bodies found in mass grave sites in eastern Bosnia will be reburied on 20th anniversary of the Srebrenica massacre. (AFP)

— This article is available in French on Middle East Eye French edition.

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the--sad--hatter · 6 years ago

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Frozen Heart (One)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -

When Nick Fury finally catches the Ex-Shield Agent knowns Black Ice, The Thief with a Frozen Heart he puts her where she belongs. With The Avengers.

You’re not happy about that decision but you’re the only one who’s kicking up a fuss.

Natasha and Clint are happy to have you back in their lives, Sam Wilson is a big fan, Tony Stark just wants you to keep your hands off his stuff and Steve finds out that not only do you have a connection but you were there for him when nobody else was.

Bucky Barnes is one of the few people who doesn’t have a connection with you but he’d really really like one.

Prologue

ANYTHING IN ITALICS IS BEING SIGNED, NOT SAID OUT LOUD

Chapter One - Sixty Seconds

The room Clint had led you to was less of a room and more of a luxury suite. It was decadent and as soon as you opened the door and shoved you through it your jaw dropped.

“I’ll put coffee on.” Clint scoffed cheerily at you and left without waiting for a response, closing the door and leaving you in solitude.

You immediately stalked towards the private bathroom attached to what was now your room, ripping off the clothes Clint had supplied and discarding them as you went. The shower alone was at least four times bigger than your previous bathroom.

You switched the shower on turning the dial up as high as it would go and it didn’t take long for steam to fill the bathroom. The Irony of an ice powered mutant taking a blistering hot shower wasn’t lost on you as you fiddled with all the dials. There was also a drug stores worth of soaps, shower gels, and hair products. Though you doubted any drug store carried these expensive sounding brands.

You spent at least twenty minutes just choosing a shower gel. Eventually you dragged your sweet smelling body out of heaven on earth and wrapped a cloud (it was probably a towel but it felt like a cloud) around yourself and padded into the bedroom.

You forced yourself to ignore the humongous soft looking bed that was piled high with pillows and realised you'd have to put Clint's clothes back on. Unless....

This was it, the big moment. If you opened the wardrobe and it was empty then all hope was lost. But if there clothes in there, clothes in your size and preferred style then maybe Natasha still loved you.

You took a deep breath and swung the doors open.

There was a cheesy pop song playing in your head ten minutes later as you strutted down the hallway, the black heels clicking against the floor. You smoothed your hands over your hips, smoothing invisible creases out of the tight black top and smirked. Tasha still loved you.

“Black Ice!” Someone called and you twirled round to wave at them.

“Falcon right?” You said, smiling at man jogging down the corridor towards you.

“Sam Wilson.” He said holding out his hand for you to shake.

Sam Wilson was gorgeous, nobody could try and dispute that. His most striking feature though was his eyes and the kindness shining in them. As soon as you looked into them you found yourself wanting to pour your heart out to him and make him your friend.

“Everybody kinda just calls me Ice.” You told him, shaking his hand.

“Cause of the powers right? I never would have guessed it was a power, I just thought the Ice you left behind was like a calling card or political statement.” He gushed.

You noticed the tips of his ears turning red as you blinked at him in surprise.

“Can I see them?” He asked you.

You looked around nervously, not used to this kind of openness about your powers.

“No.” You said, gulping nervously.

He didn’t seem at all put off by your attitude and instead got a conspiratorial look on his face, grabbing you by the arm gently as he pulled you down the hallway and through a door. You looked around the room he’d dragged you into and frowned, it was some sort of maintenance room. Dark, empty, filled with pipes and very very small.

You wrenched your arm away from him and he raised his eyebrows at you, looking taken aback before holding his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, I understand. No touching, that wasn’t cool of me. I’m sorry.” His tone was gentle and sincere.

“Uh, it’s ok. It’s just we’ve only just met and I’m not that kind of girl.” You smiled as you said it, covering your nerves.

You weren’t getting creepy vibes of this guy and didn’t really think he’d pulled you into an empty room for nefarious purposes. You was more curious than anything.

“I’ll buy you dinner next time. I just thought you’d be more inclined to show me your frosty side if nobody was spying.” He prodded with a laugh.

“My power takes a lot of emotional and physical control. Granted I'm not drugged up and being held captive in the desert at the moment but do you really want to risk it?” You asked.

“I didn’t know that’s what happened, I’m really sorry.”He looked crestfallen as he apologised.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Or yours. I didn’t know, I won’t ask again. And just so you know, I’m good with this sort of thing if you need to talk about it. If you don’t, I’m also great at making omelette's.” He told you with a toothy grin.

“I’m really good at eating them.” You said, smiling back at the man you were quickly betting was going to be a friend.

“Well then milady, might I escort you to the kitchen?” He said, opening the door with a dramatic flourish and bowing as you passed.

You laughed at his antics and shook your head fondly, accepting the offer of his arm as he walked you to the kitchen. Where Clint and Natasha were waiting.

“Wilson, hands off my sister!” Clint snapped.

“Your sister?” Sam shrieked, looking between you and Clint, squinting.

“She’s not really my sister, somebody dropped her off at the circus in a basket and I just kept her.”

“Stop telling people that, it’s not any better than the truth. We found her on a job, we killed her parents and decided to raise her to make up for it.” Natasha said.

“They’re both lying. It’s nowhere near that interesting, Clint saved me from a fire when I was a baby. That’s why his face looks like that.” You said.

Sam’s eyes flicked down to your hands but didn’t say anything about you signing as you spoke.

“So, she’s your sister but not?” Sam clarified.

“She’s my sister. Doesn’t matter how she got that way.” Clint said resolutely, making it clear it was a closed topic.

“See, I knew you loved me.” You teased Clint.

“No I don’t, I just don’t share my toys.”

“Ok, looks like we have another bird in the nest!” Sam said excitedly.

“She’s not a bird, she’s a snake.” Natasha said, glaring at you.

“Damn, that was cold even for a Russian!” You responded with a faux hurt expression.

“Vy dolzhny uskol'znut' ot malen'koy zmei.” (Slither away little snake.)

“Natasha, I still don’t speak Russian. And snakes eat spiders so...” You smirked.

“Run.”Clint warned.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at you and smirked.

“Gym in one hour. We’re playing 60 seconds.” She told you and walked away.

You winced and watched her leave.

“What’s 60 seconds?” Sam asked Clint.

You and Natasha were both stubborn, something you had realised a long time ago. Your arguments used to be legendary and never ending until you figured out a system. It was a system most people saw as barbaric or psychotic. You and Tasha preferred to look at it as cathartic.

Sixty seconds, no holds barred. The wronged party could hurt the wrongdoer however they saw fit, no retribution. It was how you settled all grievances.

It was painful, but worth it. Honestly, it was a system that worked for you both and you were glad she was using it.

You broke out of your reverie when Clint waved a hand in front of your face.

“Look alive, Cap’s coming.” He smirked.

You brightened up considerably, you were looking forward to seeing Captain Rogers again. You spun round with a bright smile on your face as he walked into the kitchen. He held his hand out formally.

“Ma'am, welcome to The Avengers compound. I’m Steve Rogers.” He said politely.

Admittedly it had been a long time since a woman had looked so offended by his presence but the expression on your face was still painfully familiar.

“Gee, you defrost a guy and he acts like you’ve never met.” You huffed angrily, your hands flying about as your frustration came out through your gestures..

“Defrost?” Steve repeated, puzzled.

Clint sniggered and you narrowed your eyes at his shit eating grin and Steve’s confused expression.

“Nobody told him? You bastard! That was literally the coolest thing I have ever done and nobody told him? No wonder he never wrote, never called.” You whined petulantly.

“I’m not following.” Steve said with a frown.

“Me either.” Sam added from his post at the cooker.

You were reigning in the impulse to stamp your foot when Sam gasped and pointed at you with a spatula.

“Ice! He was in the ice. You didn’t?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I did. What, you think Shield find a man in Ice and don’t ask their Ice powered agent to help out?” You said sulkily.

“Wait, you defrosted me when I came out of the Ice?” Steve clarified.

“Well I had to. If you melted too quickly you could have gone into shock. I had to keep you frozen for days and do it gradually.” You told him.

He was gob smacked. Nobody had ever told him that a person had done it or that it had taken days.

“Thank you.” He said sincerely.

“You are very welcome. You however are the worst brother in the world.” You snapped at Clint.

“Brother?” Steve pressed, back to shocked.

“Adopted, I bought her off a Serbian fella years ago and couldn’t return her.” Clint said.

After breakfast Clint dragged you around the compound, pointing out important rooms. Or rooms he deemed important.

“That’s the smaller TV room but the sofa is comfier and it’s usually empty.” He informed you.

Old habits died hard and despite the fact he could hear you fine with his hearing aids in he slipped back into signing, feeling better communicating with you the old fashioned way. When you were younger you’d delighted in having your own secret way of communicating with Natasha and Clint and now you knew why he signed but it still felt more natural to talk this way.

The compound was sleek, modern and airy and very Stark. Speaking of...

“Where’s Stark? Locking down his valuables?” You asked, sniggering.

“Didn’t have the heart to tell him that wouldn’t stop you.” He smirked.

“Ok, it’s been an hour. Take me to my executioner.” You said with a solemn expression.

He chuckled and slung his arm around your shoulders, steering you towards the gym.

The Gym as it turned out was MASSIVE. At least twice the size of a football field, one side was filled with state of the art gym equipment and instead of 4 walls there were 3 wall and a row to floor to ceiling windows that overlooked an outdoor running track and obstacle course. The other half of the room was covered in training mats, clearly meant for sparring.

That was where Natasha was stood, casually waiting for you. Clint squeezed your shoulder and pushed you towards her. You took a deep breath and stepped onto the mats. You could do this, it was only a minute. You could survive it.

But Natasha Romanov was a cruel cruel woman.

Fifty one minutes later yoy hit the floor, sweat dripping down your forehead. Every muscle you had burned and even ones you didn’t know you had were screaming in protest.

Tasha, lovely kind woman that she was had informed you she was doing a physical evaluation before she cleaned the slate and used her sixty seconds.

You’d been here less than an hour and she hadn’t even touched you yet but you were already thoroughly exhausted. The Russian B...eauty was currently testing your core strength by having you use the salmon ladder.

One handed.

You’d yet to reach the top, having met the floor with force at least seven times by now. Clint was absolutely no help, as soon as Natasha had instructed you to get to work he’d perched himself on top of a balance beam and proceeded to heckle you. His laughter echoed through the room as you pushed herself up from the ground, face burning in embarrassment.

“Weren’t you in the Army the last two years?” He called down in mirth.

You flipped him off but it only made him laugh harder.

Natasha kicked your left leg and you went down ungracefully, your knee slamming into the floor.

“You’re here so I can get a better understanding of your capabilities, not to trade barbs with birdbrain over there.” Natasha told you coldly.

“Hey I resent that.” Clint called out.

Natasha turned her stare on him and he grumbled to himself and got up and wandered away to the target practice area of the room. Natasha turned back to you and you gritted your teeth against the pain and nodded, getting to your feet and picking up the metal bar you were using to pull yourself up the ladder.

“Use the left hand this time.” Natasha ordered.

You sighed and did as you were told, making the mistake of glancing towards Clint to make sure he wasn’t up to anything. You were too caught up in the panel of the wall Clint had just opened to make it onto the ladder and fell again, landing on your feet this time but barely paying attention.

There was an armoury in the wall and your eyes were lit up like a kid at Christmas. Natasha cocked her head at your reaction and smirked.

“Ok, lets test your gun knowledge out.” Natasha said.

You didn’t wait for her to finish the sentence and were already scampering toward the guns. Clint looked up at the sound of your footsteps and the corner of his mouth tugged up at the look on your face.

You weren’t looking at him, your eyes were on the weapons, more specifically on the glock 12 on the table next to him. You picked it up and with practised ease popped the magazine out and checked it before popping it back in. He and Natasha shared an amused look as you strode over to the targets, standing at the furthest point from them and steadily raised the gun in your right hand and fired off 12 shots in rapid succession. Clint let out a low whistle as he looked at all 12 targets that now had a bullet hole in the dead centre of the target.

“Nat she can shoot! Like really shoot!” He whispered excitedly.

Your aim had always been pretty good but you were no Hawkeye, however in the last two years you had given up trying to match his skill with a bow and to your surprise found that your skill lay with guns. You had only a little amount of control of your abilities and halfway decent fighting skills but you knew your way around a gun.

They were your happy place, the feel of cold heavy metal in your hand, your mind blissfully clear of anything except the target.

You switched the gun to your left hand and repeated the 12 shots, hitting the bullseye again every time. You popped a fresh clip into the gun, intending to empty that as well when something whizzed by your head and buried itself into the dead centre of a target.

You turned to look at Clint and Natasha. Natasha was looking on with a blank face but Clint was holding a bow and staring back at you and the challenge was clear. You met his eyes and raised the gun, pulling the trigger on your next exhale, keeping your gaze locked on his. You didn’t have to look to know that you had hit the target.

Clint let out a low whistle of approval but Natasha’s face remained impassive.

“Good, what time you’ll save on weapons training you can put into combat practice.” Natasha decided.

You scowled but dutifully followed the lethal task mistress back to the bars, scowling over your shoulder at a chuckling Clint.

Bucky knew there was someone new in the compound, some former thief who Steve had rushed into tell him about after breakfast. Apparently she was Barton’s younger sister and she had helped Steve when they pulled him out of the arctic. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he saw her but it wasn’t that.

He happened to look through the windows of the gym and nearly tripped over his own feet at the sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He was a hundred years old, he’d seen more than his share of dames but not one of them held a candle to the girl in the gym. The one with killer aim. He watched her effortlessly fire off the shots, hitting the targets with minimal effort and it was mesmerizing.

When she fired a bullet straight through Barton's arrow without looking all the blood rushed from Bucky’s head because it was without a doubt the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He had never even met the girl but right then and there he decided she was his soulmate.

“Well you are in terrible shape. I don’t know what they had you doing in the army but it wasn’t good enough. Thankfully you still have your instinct for combat and some strength. An intense training regime should have you in shape in a few week.” Natasha told you as you lay panting on the floor.

Clint wandered over and nudged you with his foot and you were too tired to stop him.

“Kill me.” You begged.

“Did that once, not doing it again.”

You frowned at his response. He was slightly upside down from this angle but that didn’t do much to hide the pain in his eyes. When Clint had helped you fake your death he hadn’t had much of a choice. Neither of you had. As much as you had missed him you suspected he missed his baby sister more. You wanted to tell him you were glad to be back with him, that you didn’t want to leave again.

“Sappy is a bad look on you.” You told him.

“Bleeding is about to be a good look on you.” He responded.

There, now he knew. Thank god for sibling short hand and reading between the lines. He pulled you to your feet and nodded at you.

“Start the clock.” Natasha instructed.

“3...2...1...GO!”

You steeled yourself as she advanced and shut your eyes like the brave woman you were. Her arms wrapped around you and you were pulled into a hug. Your eyes shot open and you shot a helplessly terrified look at you brother.

“Don’t do it again. We missed you too much.” Natasha whispered in your ear and released you.

“Tasha, I missed you so much. Every day.” You admitted, tearing up.

“Good.” She said.

And then she roundhouse kicked you in the face.

You winced and pressed an ice pack to your face as you grabbed a bowl of pasta from the buffet style spread in the kitchen. Apparently team dinners were a thing and there was one especially for you tonight. You leaned over the counter to grab a slice of cheesecake from the back of the table that looked slightly larger than the other slices. You put it next to your pasta and frowned, you could have sworn you chose pasta but there was now a sad looking plate of chicken breast and broccoli looking up at you.

“Part of getting you into shape is changing your diet.”

You whirled round to face Natasha who had an annoying smirk on her face as she plucked the cheesecake away from you.

Natasha kept her smirk as she walked away with the desert and sat at a table next to Clint, pushing an empty chair out with her foot and looking at you expectantly. You gave in and went to sit down, but not before throwing a dirty look at the offending chicken and vegetables.

“Hey Ice.” Sam greeted you as you sat down.

You just frowned grumpily at your table-mates and stabbed at her dinner. Natasha looked smug as she tucked into the cheesecake.

“What happened to your face?” Sam asked you in concern.

“60 seconds.” You, Clint and Natasha said in unison.

Sam looked terrified and rapidly changed the subject.

“Steve’s bringing Barnes down.” He said with a grimace.

“Friend of yours?” You smirked, wincing when it hurt your face.

“Arch nemesis. He’s the worst, you’ll hate him.” Sam assured you.

“Tony is coming down with Bruce. Brace yourself.” Clint told you.

“Hey, it’s not my fault his security is abysmal.” You defended yourself.

“Excuse me? Who is this stray child who has wandered into my home to eat my food and insult me?” Someone behind you demanded.

You turned around and looked at the infamous Tony Stark. He was dripping about as much ego and irritation as you expected while a timid and exhausted looking man stood behind him.

“Wow, it’s actually you!” You exclaimed, getting up and rushing past Tony to offer your hand to the one and only Bruce Banner.

“Oh hello. I’ve been told to just call you Ice. I’m Bruce banner but I guess you probably knew that.” Bruce said nervously buy politely.

“It’s an honour Dr Banner, I’m such a huge fan.” You admitted.

“Oh, you’re into science?” He asked, his eyes lighting up.

Natasha and Clint snorted behind you.

“Yes... and no. I like it, I’m just not very good at it. I think you are amazing, your brain is just so much better than mine. Like so much.” You stammered.

“Should we rescue her?” Sam whispered.

“Oh hell no, this is fun!” Tony insisted.

There was a slight chance that you were a little bit of a science nerd. Minus the nerd part. See you loved science, everything from the human brain to the stars and the fact that they were connected. It was all fascinating to you but you sadly lacked the genius gene.

“Your enthusiasm is wonderful, passion is 90% of science.” Bruce said nicely.

You noticed you were still shaking his hand and pulled away, blushing.

“No, no it’s not.” You said sadly.

He looked bad for you as you sat back down.

“I’m working on a biochemical sample from a rather fascinating species of Jellyfish at the moment. Perhaps tomorrow If you come by the lab I can show you?” He suggested and you sat up a little straighter.

“Careful Bruce, she might steal it.” Tony warned.

“Bruh, I stole an Iron Suit, big deal. That sculpture I left took me ages to make, don’t I get any credit?” You asked.

“No. None. I don’t like you.” Tony said, wagging his finger at you.

“Didn’t you end up redesigning the entire security system and making it even better?” Bruce asked him.

“Not the point Brucey, she’s a little street rat.” Tony scowled.

“I guess that makes you the magic carpet.” You pointed out and he scowled harder.

“Mr Stark I am sorry. I was young and foolish, I’ll never do it again.” You swore.

Tony’s eyes followed your hands as you signed your words, fork in hand.

“Do what again?” Steve asked before Tony could put his foot in his mouth.

You turned around to greet The Captain and promptly had the breath knocked from your lungs.

The dark haired smouldering man next to him was undoubtedly the most intimidating man you had ever seen. From the metal arm to the bulging muscles to the steely eyes and that perfect jawline. This was Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier. Barnes, Sams nemesis.

“I’m Sam’s friend.” You blurted out for lack of an actual coherent thought.

Steve looked between you and Sam with amusement but your eyes were still locked onto Bucky who finally looked up at you.

What little braincells you still had wandered away, skipping into the sunset and abandoning you. Bucky’s eyes were like steel traps and you were completely stuck in them. So stuck you didn’t see Steve nudge him.

“Hi.” Bucky said to you in a hoarse, raspy voice.

You may or may not have squeaked and turned your back on him. Well you definitely did but in your defence your brain cells were gone.

Bucky turned around and walked back out.

“I’m not hungry. For food, This food. I’m actually tired. I’m going to go to bed.” You announced and fled.

“What the fuck was that?” You hissed at yourself.

What indeed. There was absolutely no good reason for you to have reacted to Bucky that way.

You had been in a coma for nine days, Natasha had kicked you in the face today. You were overwhelmed emotionally. These were all actually perfectly good reasons when you thought about it.

You just needed to get some sleep, recharge and maybe, hopefully regrow some of those traitorous braincells. In the morning, you would apologise to Bucky Barnes. You would look him in the eyes, his gorgeou...

You would look somewhere in his general vicinity and apologise. Satisfied with your plan you got ready to settle into the massive luxury bed that was now yours.

Unaware that a few halls down Bucky was reprimanding himself for blowing his chances with before he even got to meet you properly. He calmed himself down by convincing himself that you were just a pretty girl with good aim, it wasn’t a huge loss if he never got to spend time with you. In the morning he would just treat you like a team mate and forgot the fleeting silly crush he’d developed.

In the morning, everything would be fine.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So here it is, the first official chapter!! TaaaDaaaa! I really hope it was enjoyable for you guys and I would love to know what you thought, even (especially) if you didn't like it!

If you did like it, tag list is open if you wanna be on it :)

Massive Shoutout to @punitores-corde for holding my hand and walking me through how to address deafness properly! I hope I did ok with it beans, kick my ass if I didn't!

@shirukitsune @thelostallycat @jsmith509 @buckitybarnes

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inevitably-johnlocked · 7 years ago

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Hi, love!! First of all, I'm discovering wonderful fics I've never read because of people's questions in your Tumblr so... thank you so f****** much!!! Now, do you have a list or would you recommend me some fics where John is a doctor? Can be in Afghanistan, with Sarah, AUs of any time and type... But where John being a doctor is an important part of the fic or the principal one. Thank you, lovely!! By the way, I've been reading your comments about the John hate and I agree with you!! 😘😘

Hi Lovely!

Ahhhhh okay you’re in luck, because I was sorting a list of “sick fics” and one of the categories was “John Takes Care of Sherlock” so I can add those onto these other “doctor John” fics! I don’t know if I have any where he is strictly a doctor, but let’s see what’s sorted in my bookmarks right now!

DOCTOR / CARETAKER JOHN

Whispers in the Dark by coloured_ink (G, 833 w. || Bed Sharing, Anxious Sherlock, Anxiety, Caring John, Spooning, Little Spoon Sherlock) – Sherlock has anxiety attacks. Good thing John always knows what to do.

Static by Johnnlocked (Krullenbol2602) (G, 917 w. || Fluff, H/C, Doctor John, Headaches, POV Sherlock, Fluff, H.C, Pre-TSo3) – Sherlock suffers from a headache.

The Most Awful Thing by whitchry9 (K+, 1,072 w. || H/C, Holmes Brothers, Seizures) – When Mycroft witnesses Sherlock having a seizure, he is at a complete loss as to what he should do. Thankfully, John is there.

Cuddling by GraciousK (G, 1,107 w. || Fluff and Angst, Cuddling/Snuggling, Fluff, Hypothermia) – When John finally finds Sherlock, he’s hypothermic and delirious. John warms him up the only way Sherlock will allow: body heat. It ends up more angsty than sexy. Part 2 of 30-day OTP Challenge: Johnlock

Bringing Colour to the World by SD_Ryan (G, 1,168w. || Est. Relationship, Sickfic, Fluff, Schmoop) – In which we encounter a sick detective, a snuggle on the couch, and a silly fairytale.

Shut Up and Sleep by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,257 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) – Sherlock has a knack for hurting himself, although not entirely on purpose. John is a doctor, and it’s a good thing he’s there.

Mentality by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,350 w. || Friendship, Hurt / Comfort, THoB Fic, Doctor John) – It was weird. But Sherlock was having a panic attack. Re-write of the Hounds of the Baskerville scene.

Lost Without My Army Doctor by ItsRealForUs (K, 1,499 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Migraines, Doctor John, Domestics) – Sherlock’s fighting a losing battle with his migraine when John comes home to help.

The Two of Us Against the World by slashscribe (T, 1,617 w. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Anxious Sherlock, Angsty Fluff) – John is there to take care of Sherlock as he comes down from his overdose in The Abominable Bride. Set immediately after the tarmac, back in 221B.

Conciliatory Coffee (It’s All Fine) by dget (K+, 1,635 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF Reunion) – "He can feel John’s shuddering breaths in his own lungs, feel John’s heart beating behind his own sternum.“ Because John Watson is a doctor, and Sherlock Holmes is a detective, and neither really knows how to be anything else. A post-Reichenbach reunion oneshot. Can be read as Johnlock.

The Doctor’s Capable Hands by Totally-Out-Of-It (K+, 2,012 w. || Sherlock Whump, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Anxious Sherlock) – Sherlock is injured during a chase. John sits watchful at his bedside in the hospital and wonders. He wouldn’t leave Sherlock alone like this. Especially not if Sherlock wanted him to stay.

This is Life in Colour by agent iz hyper (K+, 2,038 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sherlock Whump, Doctor John) – John thought with a flash of amusement that only Sherlock Holmes could look like he was about to pass out and still maintain his usual level of acerbic scorn. “You’re a git,” he told him mildly. “And an idiot,” he added as an afterthought, though no less pointedly. A look into the perks of being both a doctor and a soldier when one is the friend of Sherlock Holmes.

Assurance by belovedmuerto (T, 2,382 w. || Bed-Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Idiots in Love) – It’s not so much the ‘you’re half-dead, you wanker,’ or even the broken ribs, the hairline fracture of the pelvis, the dislocated shoulder and knee, and the wrenched ankle.

Intensive Care by aceofhearts61 (T, 2,539 w. || Ace!Sherlock / Straight John Queerplatonic Relationship, Hurt Comfort, Angst, Cuddles and Snuggles, Hugs, Doctor!John, Medical Procedures) – In which John looks after Sherlock directly following the events of “Bless You and Keep You.” Sequel Fic. Part 15 of A Love with No Name

Green Carnation by glenien (T, 2,616 w. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Meta-Fic, Angst and Fluff, Communication, Post-TAB) – John takes Sherlock home. Part 1 of It’s No Longer Eighteen Ninety-Five

Someone Else’s Heart by thisprettywren (E, 4,188 w. || First Time, H/C, POV Sherlock, Caretaking John, Pining Idiots) – A crime scene, a rainstorm, and something they both should have known all along.

The Sum of His Parts by CommonNonsense (T, 4,311 w. || Body Worship, First Kiss / Time) – There are eleven major organ systems in the human body. Sherlock knows about all of them to some degree, but none fascinate him as much as the ones that make up John Watson.

Very Good Indeed by StillWaters1 (T, 4,531 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Doctor John, John Whump) – John Watson was a doctor, trained to observe details; a fact Sherlock had never been more aware of than when a drugged John’s lifesaving instructions were based on an unlabeled syringe and an unconscious murder suspect’s body.

This Time by Radon65 (T, 4,766 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) – He has practically just finished talking to Lestrade when it happens. A sudden dizziness assaults his brain, things tip sideways, and he barely catches himself on the arm of the sofa to slow his descent before he collapses altogether to the floor.

A Case of Identity by PostcardsfromTheoryland (T, 4,978 w. || Post-TRF, John on Holiday, Pining Sherlock, Whump, Angst, Reunion) – All John wanted was to get away from London for a few weeks. No people pointing and whispering about Sherlock Holmes when he walked past, no reporters wanting an “exclusive” about the dead detective, just some rest and relaxation in the sunshine. Then again, these holiday trips never seem to go as planned.

Needles by Kryptaria (M, 5,194 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Needles, Referenced/Implied Drug Use, Doctor John) – At the end of January, 2010, John and Sherlock move to 221-B Baker Street. By mid-February, John takes up his role not only as Sherlock’s guardian and helper, but also his doctor. As the months pass, they grow closer and the trust between them deepens, until Sherlock puts it to the ultimate test.

I think You Need A Doctor by TheGoodDirector (M, 5,254 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sherlock Whump, Mistaken Couple, Humour, Platonics, Mary is Nice) – John’s not been to Baker Street in four months and returns to find a bleeding Consulting Detective. John can’t help but take care and put up with him. Set after The Sign of Three/Before His Last Vow.

Recovery by thesignsofserbia (T, 5,948 w. || HLV-Fix It / Rewrite, Villain Mary, Pining Sherlock, Major Character Injury, Scars, Self-Hatred, POV Sherlock, Doctor John, Friends to Lovers) – Set after the confrontation with Mary, and Sherlock’s cardiac arrest, John stays at 221B to aid Sherlock’s recovery, forcing them to confront wounds both old and new as they try to heal their damaged relationship.

The Death of Doubt by Gingerhermit (E, 6,584 w. || Alternate Canon, BAMF John, POV Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Drama, Meddling Mycroft) – Mycroft asks for John’s help in rescuing Sherlock from his Serbian captors.

Survival Instinct by shirleyholmes (T, 7,162 w. || Post-TRF, First Kiss, Schmoop, Nightmares, Fluff & Angst, Grief, Idiots in Love) – After Sherlock’s “comeback” John starts obsessing with constantly making sure he’s alive (checking his heartbeat etc.)

The doctor is in by PlainJane (E, 7,581 w. || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist, Anal, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong… Part 1 of Doctors and detectives

I’m Pretty Sure This Changes Shit by cwb (E, 7,672 w. || Fluff, Cudding, Doctor/Patient, Accidents) – Sherlock finds increasingly ridiculous ways to get John to patch him up after hurting himself.

The T-Shirt Thief by watsonsherlocksuniverse (T, 7,968 w. || Pining Sherlock, Doctor John, First Kiss, Canon Fix-It, Developing Rel., Mutual Pining) – Sherlock steals John’s t-shirt from the laundry. John catches him wearing it one evening, fluff ensues with an endeared yet teasing John?

You’re a Doctor, Fix me by edken (G, 8,342 w. || Fluff / Cuddling) – Sherlock doesn’t do anything halfway, and that includes getting sick. John nurses a very sick flatmate back to health using cuddles, forehead kisses, and a massage. Humor and fluff promised this time, but also some character analysis because who doesn’t love that?

Matters of National Security by mistyzeo (E, 8,465 w. || Jealous Sherlock, First Time, RST, Idiots in Love, Frottage) – John starts dating a male client of Sherlock’s, and Sherlock can’t figure out why he’s so incensed about it.

Incapacitation by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 9,424 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Sick Sherlock, Doctor John, Appendicitis) – The doctor had just asked how bad the pain was when the pain spiked. Sherlock’s initial response was a gasp that evolved into a whimper. “Ten,” he gasped. “Ten…”

Someone I Love by hudders-and-hiddles (M, 10,002 w. || Canon Compliant, HLV-Filler Fic, Pre-Slash, Jealous John, PIning Sherlock, Angst & Fluff, UST/URT, Dog Tags) – John gets married and Sherlock finds comfort in wearing John’s identity tags around his wrist.

The Thin Line by Odamaki (M, 10,809 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Confessions, First Times, Anal) – John swallows. Keeps his eyes on Sherlock. Begs him not to ruin him.Sherlock leans forward over the witness box ever-so slightly, “I was distracted,” he informs the court, “by my partner, John Watson.”

In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there.

Partners in Crime by Richefic (T, 16,560 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sick John, Meddling Mycroft, Caring Sherlock, Domestics) – John Watson receives some devastating news which puts a spanner in his medical ambitions. Will Sherlock prove capable of the kind of comfort and reassurance he needs or will their partnership be ended before its even begun? Set between 1.1 and 1.2.

I Will Take Care Of You by SailorChibi (T, 16,664 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sherlock, BAMF John, BAMF Lestrade, Reunion Fic) – Two years after Sherlock’s death, John comes to find him on the sofa. Wounded and ill, Sherlock is convinced he’s hallucinating and refuses to share any details about Moran or the fact that Mycroft has been compromised. That doesn’t stop John from stepping up and taking care of the last of Moriarty’s web, BAMF-style.

And A Doctor by StillWaters1 (T, 27,393 w. || Friendship, Doctor John, Whump, Soldier / Doctor Dichotomy, Five and One) – It was only when people actually saw John working as a physician that they began to understand: that it wasn’t just about bullets and IEDs and trauma care under fire. That “doctor” actually covered a pretty wide field. And that John was bloody good at covering ground. 5 times Dr. Watson treated others and 1 time he treated himself.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w. || Magical Realism, John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It’s a lot less cracky than you’re probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w. || Casefic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

Electric Pink Hand Grenade by BeautifulFiction (E, 67,718 w. | First Time, First Kiss, Headaches and Migranes) – If Sherlock’s brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse.“ Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary’s betrayal and Sherlock’s deceptions.

To Light Another’s Path by BeautifulFiction (E, 128,654 w. || Post-TGG, H/C, Case Fic, First Time/Kiss, Drug Addiction) – Teaching John to observe seems to be a losing battle, but when Sherlock falls ill and submits himself to John’s care, will he realise that there is more to life than the science of deduction? Meanwhile, there is a murder to solve, and John must try and convince Sherlock not to sacrifice his own health for the sake of the case.

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

MARKED FOR LATER

These fics are just a few I remembered I put into my MFL list recently, and I haven’t read them yet, so read at your own discretion!

A Home for Us by sussexbound (NR, 3,440 w. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

How They Move In Silence by Breath4Soul (M, 3,516+ w., WiP || Doctor John, Doctor/Patient, Voiceless Sherlock, Sick Sherlock, Texting) – Sherlock loses his voice and has to communicate through texts which leads to love confessions.

Recovery by mainegirlwrites (M, 26,935 w. || Injured Sherlock, Disfigured Sherlock, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, John Takes Care of Sherlock) – The great Sherlock Holmes is recovering from disfiguring injuries with the help of Dr. John Watson - but can a broken spirit be fixed?

You Go To My Head Series by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 257,765+ w. across 8 Stories, WiP || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Doctor John / Doctor Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson (senior neuroanaesthetist) and Holmes (neurosurgeon).

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #doctor john #risherinobombing #caretaker john

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thetravellingvagrant · 7 years ago

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Day 17: Belgrade/Kotor(ish) – Public Transbored

Bus Update 3:

Today was the day of my exit from Belgrade, on a sad, twelve hour long bus-slog. I had thus, decided not to be out too long, in order to adequately clean my apartment and be totally sure I had packed all my things, because even though I have so far failed to even misplace a sock, I am always eternally terrified that I will leave something deeply important behind.

Anyway, yes. I planned a trip to yet another of the city's parks (being that I enjoyed the last one so much) and then ambling home, past the city's aquarium on the way (being that I enjoyed the zoo so much, also). What could be easier than that? Nothing, that's what, and you're stupid for even trying to think of another answer.

So, anyway, the park was way, way, way further away than I had thought and the route to it, which google had suggested was...curious, to say the least. It dragged me along the outskirts of the town and down a motorway (obviously)

Vagrant 101

which then exploded into a sort of spaghetti junction sort of situation, which was obviously an absolute pain in the cock to navigate. I clung to the pavement which was steadily decreasing in width as I progressed, leaving me ultimately, clinging to a wall, inching forward in between whooshes of passing cars. I am alive, obviously, so stop worrying. God.

Eventually, I managed to peel myself off of the motorway and into something a little more my speed; a park. I walked vaguely in the direction of the other, better park for a while, before I was tapped on the shoulder. I spun round. It was a man, in some kind of uniform. He looked at me, saying nothing. I smiled, out of awkwardness.

“...Yes?” I asked.

“Yes?” he replied, cocking his head to the side.

...fuck is this shit? I cocked my head straight back at him, and added a slight shake to demonstrate that I had no idea what was going on.

“...Why are you here?” he asked.

“...I'm going to the park.”

“This not park. This national bank, please leave.”

“Oh.”

I looked around. It did look a bit like a park.

“...have you considered investing in a sign?”

this apparently was not the right thing to say. He furrowed his brow and gestured back the way I had come. I realised now was not the time to engage my trademark lack of respect for authority, even though this signless motherfucker was beginning to irk me, so I turned round and left.

My alternate route to the park proved to be a fairly shitty one. It led me quite steeply uphill for the better part of an hour, my right knee beginning to throb with every bend, before I had found myself on the outskirts of my destination.

The park, like a lot of Serbia, it seems, was actually very disappointing. It was flat, uninteresting and really more of a park-inspired workout strip than it was a repository of lush, verdant greenery, as google had suggested. I walked around it, regardless. Okay. Done. I then headed onwards. Waste of bloody time.

As I approached the supposed location of the aquarium, I began to steadily lose hope in actually finding it. I was walking through an area comprised entirely of school buildings and flats.

“This can't be right...” I mused to myself.

But it was right...eventually, through mostly just dumb luck, I stumbled upon my destination, which, inexplicably, was just build into an existing apartment building. I paid the equivalent of 70 pence and entered.

I tell you, Belgrade has its marketing game on point. Everything here looks absolutely fucking amazing when you see it on google and you think “wow, I have to see that!” then when you actually get there, it turns out that it's just very, very shit. This aquarium was no exception.

Where the zoo neglected its duties of animal cruelty, the aquarium picked up the slack, and then some; I can't speak for the fish, because, honestly, how even do you adequately care for a fish? Literally no one knows, but the inexplicably present non-on-brand animals in the exhibit could certainly have been better cared for . They had a little container full of seven rats, with, admittedly many levels to explore, though nothing but a few twigs within these levels to stimulate their little rat-brains- something, I'm reliably informed by the overbearing, manic rat-mother my nice girlfriend has become of late, that is utterly essential to rat happiness

“help us to die...”

there were guinea pigs, also, though bewilderingly, each pig was stored in its own tiny, sparse little compartment. I'm not sure if this was some kind of quarantine procedure, but my immediate reaction was that it was not.

Reptiles were kept in shitty, otherwise literally empty terrariums. Just them, in a box. No soil, no twigs, no shelter. Nothing.

...help ME to die, but more urgently.

and the luckier of the lizards, one whose name I didn't learn, as all of the signs were in Serbian, was snatched from his enclosure while he was asleep, to be handed over to an excited young girl who was also a patron of the aquarium, along with her parents, to be jabbed at, squeezed and otherwise harassed. The whole thing felt shockingly negligent and generally, wildly unsettling. They did have a cat that slept in a weird position next to the cast register, though, so 10/10, would visit again.

Top notch.

I walked home on now badly aching legs, stopping only to buy a couple of bureks from the nearby bakery, because I apparently am incapable, even to this day, of learning not to buy bureks every time I see them, like some idiot, grease loving magpie. Admittedly, I didn't plan to eat these ones, right away, instead hoping to save them for my impending and crushingly long bus ride. Cold bureks are still good right? Probably. (They weren't.)

Once home, I bibbled, cleaned the apartment and packed all the superfluous shit I brought with me, before heading out for another burrito from Burrito Madre, because god damn, that place doesn't suck. I ate as carefully as I could, over a trash can, so as not to necessitate another cleaning of the flat and then, finally, with the promised return visit from Jelena not materialising, headed out to the bus.

I arrived at the station and had to pay twice more to get on board by bus, despite already dropping £23 on a ticket- once for the privilege of having my bag tossed carelessly into the hold and once to even gain access to the platforms (why not just include that in the ticket price? It is so confusing). Peeved, slightly, though making a point to reassure myself that it was only two additional pounds worth of Serb-dollars, which as of this point were functionally useless to me, I took my seat, draped my jacket around me as a sort of make-shift blanket, and pulled away from the platform, on my way to the penultimate destination of this trip; Kotor.

#Serbia #belgrade #bus #aquarium #shit park #park #neglect #help

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anamedblog · 5 years ago

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Life imitates research (or vice versa?) at the Merkez Han

by Catherine Steidl, ANAMED Post-Doctoral Fellow (2019–2020)

The way I most often find myself describing ANAMED to others is as a “scholarly monastery.”

A view of the author’s room from inside the NIT Library—a luxurious monastery, indeed

This is, of course, because of its physical form; fellows live in their individual cells (much more luxurious than standard monastic quarters), moving between different parts of the building to prepare food, work in the library, partake in shared beverages, or come together to interact in personal and professional contexts. Opening one’s door to look through large glass panes onto a library is a constant reminder of scholarly duties, but also of the pieces of our lives that all fellows share. ANAMED’s characterization as something of a monastery, however, also captures the sense of community and belonging that is—or can be—quickly engendered in such all-encompassing shared spaces. I cannot speak for my colleagues who spend their days considering historic monastic life, but daily life in and around the Merkez Han frequently has me thinking about my own work. As an archaeologist, my main research focus is identity and the dynamics of ancient communities. This is particularly salient for our understanding of (ancient) cross-cultural interaction in trading settlements, colonies, and within the general context of ubiquitous Mediterranean and Anatolian mobility, all of which would have brought together a diverse array of people living in longer-term, close proximity. ANAMED fellows’ collective diversity, our interactions, and our individual practices all offer the chance to consider—and constantly reconsider—the social experience of those ancient interactions for individual people participating in them.

How does this work? In my own work, I’ve argued that a specific definition and framework make communities not only possible subjects for study in the archaeological record, but also comparable—in terms of understanding how they form and change—across contexts that are very different in time and space.[1] When different people come together in new spaces, in order to understand what aspects of their own practices and identity are of greater or lesser importance (i.e., the things they maintain), and what aspects of their daily lives they find commonality in to identify with new neighbors (i.e., things they’re willing to change), I’ve argued that it’s helpful to look at three categories of evidence: shared maintenance practices, shared ritual practices, and shared social experiences. Instead of a lengthy, theoretical explanation of all of this, I’ll dive straight into how it plays out within the ANAMED community of fellows.

When a new crop of fellows arrives each September, we know little about one another except that we share two basic things in common. We’re all academics and researchers, and we’re all focused on something that relates in some fashion to Anatolia. Though our focus and methodology might be different—archaeology, history, philology, philosophy—and our evidence therefore looks quite different, too, we nonetheless share similar practices and experiences. After all, common across the humanities (and other fields) are the processes of formulating research questions, interrogating and evaluating evidence, spending hours (or weeks) hunting down important sources, writing as a means of thinking and communicating, and considering aspects of the intention and experience that belonged to people who have, in many cases, been quite dead for a significant period of time.

The fellows share other “maintenance practices” too, however, and by that, I mean the kinds of things that are required to sustain life, either physically or, in the case of fellows-as-scholars, professionally: we’re provided with accommodations, but need to seek out or prepare food, need to acquire basic necessities, and have to take care of some vices to which we’re personally accustomed (e.g., coffee! cigarettes! wine!). There are only so many ways to go about such things in and around the Merkez Han, and yet it’s interesting to see both how differently some people approach them, and how interested they generally are in how others have chosen to do so. For example, some fellows have taken to preparing meals in the shared kitchen, and knowledge of where to purchase particular ingredients and what can be most easily prepared with the tools at hand is coveted. A little creativity goes a long way, and people are happy—and indeed enthusiastic—to share their “go-to” staples and increase everyone’s repertoire of healthy, inexpensive eats. (For the record, I’m a fan of doctoring a packet of tavuk çorbası with some added orzo, lemon, and tempered eggs, for a tasty faux-avgolemono.) Newly discovered restaurants are also a hot commodity, either for their novelty, their quality, their price point, or (ideally) all three. Finding and sharing “solutions” that fulfill our collective needs in interesting ways is one of the primary things that seems, at least socially, to literally bring people together.

Members of the ANAMED community of fellows partake in an educational wine tasting, brought together by shared interest in Anatolian grapes

These shared practices bleed seamlessly into shared social experiences—more intangible aspects of communal living that are attested quite obliquely by material culture, at least in ancient contexts. Eating together in the same restaurants, fighting to walk through Istiklal’s throngs on busy evenings and weekends, attending Friday teas, coordinating use of the washing machines, sitting in the same library spaces, making efforts to personalize living space, and, of course, trying to sleep through the dulcet tones of ‘90s and early ‘00s Turkish pop that emanate from our night-club-neighbor every day between 10:45pm and 12:45am… these are all augmented by shared social experiences that are not inherent to life at ANAMED, but in which we choose to participate together… going farther afield to try new restaurants, socializing on the terrace, exploring new neighborhoods in the city, and hunting down local concerts. These extend beyond the positive to include more stressful experiences: worrying over socio-political climates in our home countries, concern over the welfare of others, of the planet, and strategies for addressing all of those; supporting one another through the trials and tribulations of the academic job market, of early-career research challenges, and the general stresses that come with regular and repeated academic nomadism (at least for some of us).

What helps all of these aspects of our lives to engender a sense of community is that they are shared. Both those creative and productive solutions to problems or needs we all face, but also more embodied knowledge and practice. The knitters and crocheters of ANAMED, for example, meet irregularly, but enthusiastically, to drink hot beverages, eat snacks, and engage socially in creating. Having all been taught different crafts in different places, it’s still possible to come together and explore the differences and similarities in our practices… both terminology and technique. The same is true for cooking. Until I came to ANAMED, I was completely unaware that Serbian strudel is an entirely different (and equally delicious) animal than its Austro-German counterpart. And yet, fellows are both enthusiastic to share their own ways of doing and genuinely interested in exploring others’.

ANAMED fellow Bianca D’Anna shows off her scarf, the first completed project for the terrace yarn club

Above all else, what has been thought-provoking about being part of a developing ANAMED community has been this question of curiosity. When we think about the ancient world, the default notion about cross-cultural interaction is that people needed some kind of impetus to make it happen, or that they would have been generally suspicious of the “other.” The idea that merchants and their families coming together in a new, permanent home on some piece of Mediterranean coastline would have been genuinely open to, and curious about, their new neighbors’ practices isn’t often openly discussed. That they might have selectively adopted goods or practices they liked, yes, but not that pure curiosity might have been the cause, or that people might have tried out something new for its own sake, like preparing grains in a different pot, or stewing their meat instead of grilling it. People are creative, and they’re curious. Fundamentally, we are interested in getting to know others, and in understanding what they do and why. It’s true that, in the development of a new communal identity—a sense of shared belonging to something—it is necessary to have a spark of sorts, or an initial shared thing. The fellows certainly have more than just our residence in the Merkez Han, but perhaps the necessity of living together in a new, shared space, and finding creative solutions for daily necessities would have been enough in the ancient world as well.

The author receives training in the tradition of cooking-decorating for St. Martin

[1] For the interested reader, I use the following base definition of communities from Canuto and Yaeger’s 2000 The Archaeology of Communities. A New World Perspective: Community is “an ever-emergent social institution that generates and is generated by suprahousehold interactions that are structured and synchronized by a set of places within a particular span of time. Daily interactions rely on and, in turn, develop shared premises or understandings, which can be mobilized in the development of common community identities” (5).

#anamed #fellows #impressions #koç university #koç üniversitesi

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autodidact-adventures · 7 years ago

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World War I (Part 3): Austria and Serbia

Franz Conrad was from a military family (his father had been an officer), and he himself had begun his military training at 11yrs old. In 1906, he became chief of the Austro-Hungarian general staff, when he was 56yrs old. His full surname was Conrad von Hötzendorf – the “von Hötzendorf” part had been added as an honorific when his grandfather was elevated to the nobility.

Conrad was rather fanatical, and an incredibly hard worker. He had a difficult task, turning the poorly-organized Austro-Hungarian armies into a modern and effective force. He knew that the empire of Austria-Hungary was militarily weak, and wasn't really one of Europe's great powers any more. He was constantly creating new war plans and issuing new orders, and he believed that the only way the empire could save itself was by dealing with Serbia – and if possible, by getting rid of that country altogether.

So he was constantly pushing for war with Serbia, and the Emperor was getting quite sick of it. He even wanted to attack the new Kingdom of Italy at times – Italy was officially Austria's ally, but it had taken a lot of previously-Hapsburg territory, and wanted more. In 1911, Franz Joseph actually dismissed Conrad from his position because of his aggression, but reinstated him the next year when the First Balkan War broke out. His temporary removal hadn't changed him one bit – during 1913, he urged war on Serbia twenty-five times.

Franz Conrad.

Count Leopold von Berchtold was very different from Franz Conrad, but after the assassination, their differences would be put aside and they would become partners. He was from a very old aristocratic family, and was very cultured, frivolous and dandy-ish. He spoke Czech, French, German, Hungarian and Slovak, and married a Hungarian heiress. He had dual citizenship of both Austria and Hungary (which was quite unusual), and gave his nationality as “Viennese”.

Berchtold was seen as being weak, lazy and ultimately unreliable. His early diplomatic career was in Paris and London, and in 1907, he was appointed ambassador to Russia. In 1912, at 50yrs old, he became the Foreign Minister of Austria-Hungary.

Leopold von Berchtold.

In the Balkan Wars of 1912 and 1913, Serbia took territory from the Turks and Bulgarians, increasing greatly in size. Austria did nothing to stop them, and Berchtold in particular proved himself to be particularly ineffectual. Conrad and others began to believe that he lacked the strength and willpower to protect the empire's interests. Many people thought he shouldn't be the foreign minister, and Berchtold was aware of this.

So he began to shift his position to the other side, determined to appear strong. He fell in with Conrad's way of thinking – that they had wasted too many opportunities in the Balkans, which was where they were the most vulnerable. And there wouldn't be as many opportunities in future – Russia was recovering, and Serbia was bigger. So Conrad and Berchtold were determined to seize their next chance. Within two days of Franz Ferdinand's assassination, Berchtold would be calling for “a final and fundamental reckoning with Serbia”.

By 1914, Austria-Hungary was, like the Ottomans had been previously, in a definite state of decline. In the last fifty years, they had been displaced as the leader of the German states, with Otto von Bismarck's creation of the new German Empire. They'd lost Lombardy and Tuscany to the newly-unified Kingdom of Italy. Italy was militarily weak, but France supported its expansion.

On the other hand, Austria-Hungary was in some ways quite advanced. It was a rather chaotic, hodge-podge mix of different nationalities, ethnicities and religions, which caused huge amounts of tension, but could potentially serve as a model for a future Europe in which different peoples could live together in peace, and maybe one day unite.

Austria-Hungary had 13 nationalities, 16 languages, and 5 major religions. It was organized into 17 “lands”, which had 20 parliaments. Franz Ferdinand had understood Austria-Hungary's potential, and if it had been someone else who had been assassinated, he perhaps could have been able to lead the empire through the 1914 crisis. After the war, Berchtold would say that he had been “a man the monarchy needed”.

The Kingdom of Serbia was on Hungary's southern border, stirring up trouble whenever it could. And not just externally – its successes often set off Austria-Hungary's other ethnic minorities to demand independence or union with another Balkan nation. Conrad wasn't the only one who believed that they had to maintain a strong position in the Balkans. Leading up to 1914, a whole chain of events just made the situation worse.

First was the Pig War in 1906. Serbia was only a tiny country then, but their position on Bosnia's border gave them many opportunities to stir up trouble. Austria retaliated by ordering an embargo on all Serbian livestock imports, including pigs. It didn't go well for the Austrians. The embargo lasted 5yrs, and the Serbians found many other countries to export livestock to, and their exports actually increased. The lesson Serbia took from this was that they could defy the mighty Hapsburgs and face no consequences for it.

Serbia continued to cause trouble in Bosnia and Herzegovina. These two provinces were officially still part of the Ottoman Empire, but Austria-Hungary had been occupying & administering them since 1878, when the Turks had been forced to withdraw. Austria was now concerned about the fact that they didn't have legal possession of these provinces. And if they ended up becoming part of Serbia, they would face serious consequences as a result

So Austria announced that they were annexing Bosnia and Herzegovina. Serbia protested and appealed to Russia for help. But Russia was still recovering from the Russo-Japanese War, and could do nothing.

This was Conrad's 3rd year as the Chief of Staff of the Austrian army. He insisted that they should invade Serbia, and he was certain of victory. Austria's standing army had over 360,000 men, and Serbia had fewer than 20,000. And Germany fully supported war with Serbia – they understood how ineffective Russia was at the moment, and they were also worried about Austria's slow decline. It was the perfect chance to deal with Serbia, and perhaps get rid of its independence & take over its territory.

Conrad began to suggest that they could deal with other Balkan neighbours as well. Montenegro was another problem for Austria, and they were an ally of Serbia. Italy had territorial ambitions in the Balkans, but would be no match for Austria's army.

But not everyone in Austria & Germany wanted war. The Emperor had ruled for nearly 60yrs, and he had seen far more military losses than victories. The Hungarians didn't want to disturb the status quo – they worried that if the potential war was won, and the Serbs brought into the empire, the dual monarchy would become a triple monarchy, with the Slavs as equal partners. In fact, there were powerful supporters of this idea in Austria. Those who knew Franz Ferdinand were certain that he intended to do this.

But no war happened. Germany solved the crisis by giving an ultimatum, saying that if Russia didn't approve the annexation, Germany would regard Austria to be justified in attacking Serbia. Russia agreed, reluctantly. Austria had achieved its immediate goal, but it wasn't really a victory.

Conrad, and some of Germany's leading generals, saw it as a disaster. They hadn't gained any new territory, and nothing had been done to weaken Serbia. All they'd done was infuriate them, and also the Serb nationalists living in Bosnia. Furthermore, it was the first time Russia had been forced to yield to another European country's demands, and it was humiliating for them. Russia now realized the importance of building up their army as quickly as possible, and of showing France that it wasn't a useless ally.

1912 was the First Balkan War. Montenegro attacked the Turks, and Serbia, Bulgaria and Greece joined in. Within a month, the Turks had been driven from the Balkans, and the victorious nations doubled in size. Serbia wasn't big enough to be a major power, but they were definitely big enough to become a military problem for Austria.

The balance of power had shifted in the Balkans, and in Europe in general. The Ottomans could no longer act as a balance to Russia's power, and Russia's Balkan allies had grown even more powerful.

It had happened too fast for Austria to mobilize and get involved. Conrad, among others, had of course demanded action, but Berchtold (who was now Foreign Minister) and Franz Joseph had opposed them. The Emperor understood that attacking their Slav neighbours would just make their Slavic subjects angry (and there were 10's of millions of them).

There were two more reasons not to go to war. Russia, despite being afraid of the consequences of joining the war, had mobilized their troops. And Germany did not support war – there was no popular support for it.

Bulgaria had fought on Serbia's side, but the two countries were rivals, and Bulgaria wasn't happy with the amount of territory they'd gained. So in 1913, less than a month after the peace agreement had been finalized, they attacked Serbia. But Greece, Montenegro, Romania and even Turkey fought on Serbia's side – Turkey wanted to regain some of the territory they'd lost in the first war. Again, it was over before Austria could get their armies ready.

Serbia took part of the Adriatic Coast, which was one of the main ambitions of the Serb expansionists (as were Bosnia & Herzegovina). Peace was restored, and Austria demanded that Serbia give up that specific piece of territory. Serbia, of course, refused, so Austria issued an ultimatum – withdraw from there, or they would attack. Serbia asked Russia for help, but again to no avail. Britain and France opposed the Serbian occupation of the coast as well. So Serbia was forced to withdraw. This piece of territory became Albania.

Modern-day Albania.

By mid-1914, nobody was happy in the Balkans. Serbia had gained territory, but didn't have everything they wanted, and they still didn't have Bosnia. Turkey had lost almost everything they used to have in the region. Bulgaria had lost most of what they'd gained in the First Balkan War. Greece didn't think they'd been given enough from those two wars. The Balkans were incredibly unstable.

Russia had failed the countries of which it wanted to be the patron. Austria hadn't taken the chance to deal with Serbia in 1908, and hadn't been able to do anything while the Balkans were reshaped to Serbia's gain. Both empires were determined to never be so weak again.

Austria now regarded peace conferences as traps. The international peace conferences that had ended the Balkan Wars had gained them nothing; only their direct threat of war had been of any use.

Germany had failed to support Austria, and the Austrians were very unhappy with them. This couldn't happen again – Austria-Hungary was Germany's only dependable ally in Europe, even though it was on the decline, and they could afford to lose it. So they had to support Austria in future. This was their position for the weeks following the archduke's assassination.

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