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barefoot-joker · 10 months ago

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Snake in the Garden Pt 3~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hello guys, and welcome to the third installment of Snake in the Garden! This chapter is a bit longer than the first two, so I hope you enjoy the extra words. I'm excited to bring in the next chapter for you all and I bet Lucifer will be happy to see you too! The taglist is still open, so if you're interested in joining comment down below! As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 3048

Warnings: Non-Con Kissing, Mental Breakdown, Forced Marriage, Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

I shook as I locked the bathroom door behind me. I had left Lucifer in his workshop while I claimed I needed to do my business. Even with him so far away I was still so nervous. After I made sure nobody was around, I started emptying the pockets of my pants. I was keeping different colored pieces of fabric on my person and taking them out felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. Setting them on the counter, I went into the cabinet below the sink and pulled out my secret. In the privacy of the bathroom I was building a rope. Over the past few weeks I had been collecting different fabric from all around the palace. Napkins, towels, shirts, nothing was free from my building process. Sitting on the toilet, I grabbed my newly acquired material and tied it to the end of the rope. The rope itself was quite long and only a few more pieces would need to be added in order for it to reach the full height out of the window. Satisfied with my work, I put it back in the cabinet and went on my way back to the workshop.

My days passed by slowly and I was counting down to when I could finally escape. Lucifer was getting touchy feely more than ever. It was so bad I couldn’t go a minute without his hands on me. I tried to tell him to stop but that just made his body get closer to mine and his grip to get a bit tighter. I absolutely hated it. His courting was getting worse too. Every day I’d wake up to a new rubber duck or bouquet of flowers being thrusted at my face, a wide smile on his face and a blush spreading from cheek to cheek. The only time I could find for myself was using the bathroom either for bathing purposes or other forms of business.

One day I found myself in the dining room eating breakfast. Lucifer sat across from me reading his newspaper. However he seemed very fidgety as his leg kept bouncing underneath the table and his claws were tapping the paper in his hands. I was a bit nervous as I had never seen him act like this before and I wasn’t sure what was to come from it. After our plates were cleared, Lucifer came to my side and took me by the hand. He gave it a quick kiss before leading me through the glass doors to outside. We walked to a spot on the property I haven’t been to yet. We stopped by a small gazebo and inky black arms wrapped around my waist. “Ta da!”

One of his arms gestured to the dead grass in front of us. I was confused until I saw it change to a healthy green color. Amazed, I watched as bushes of flowers popped up from the ground and a tree with some apples grew before my very eyes. Rows upon rows of vegetables magically appeared as well. I gasped at how beautiful the scenery was before me. “I’d like to present to you your very own garden. I’ve been thinking of gifting this to you for a while but I couldn’t find the right moment. What do you think?”

I was speechless. All of this was for me? I understood this was part of his courting but the gesture was super nice.

“It’s…it’s beautiful, Lucifer. Thank you.”

He gasped and turned to me. His eyes lit up and a huge smile went from one red cheek to the other. “Was that a thank you I heard? Please hold the applause! Can we hear that one more time?”

I giggled. “Thank you.”

He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You’re welcome, darling. How about you take a look around while I grab some paperwork.”

He kissed my forehead and then poofed away in a cloud of red smoke. I coughed a bit as the smoke cleared and waved my hand to try and move it away faster. From where I stood, I could see the hole in the fence and as much as it called to me, I stayed put. I just needed some more time and then I’d be free. While Lucifer was away I walked around my newly acquired garden and smiled. It was actually quite the spectacle, but who could expect less from the Sin of Pride?

Suddenly in a flash, Lucifer returned with a butt load of papers in his hand. “Did you have a chance to look around, my dear?”

“I did.”

“Is it to your liking? I can always add in more shrubbery or substitute the flowers for something else.”

“No, it’s quite lovely. Thank you.”

He puffed out his chest and smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that. Now before I begin my boring paperwork, is there anything I can get you?”

“Perhaps a trowel and a bucket?”

“Of course.”

He snapped his fingers and next to me on the grass appeared those two items. “I’ll just be over at this table so if you need anything don’t be afraid to ask, sweetie.”

“Will do.”

“Good girl. Have fun!”

True to his word, Lucifer sat at a small, white, metal table and began working on his stack of paperwork. I was curious to know what kind of contracts and other tasks the King of Hell had to accomplish, but I just ignored that wish. Turning to the apple tree I noticed some weeds, so I headed over. Kneeling down, I took the trowel and began to dig out the vermin and put them in the bucket. Everytime I dug out a weed it seemed like another one appeared. I growled and kept going, but the process was soon becoming tedious. Just as I was about to give up, I heard chuckling coming from the table. I looked over to see Lucifer hiding his laughter behind one of his papers. “So you’re the reason I can’t get through this task. Get back to work, mister!”

I playfully shook my trowel at him and he gave a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

I laughed and went back to shoveling. Without Lucifer’s magic making more appear, weeding the apple tree went fairly quickly. After that was done, I moved onto the other bushes and rows of vegetables. It took me several hours but I was finally done weeding. I wiped the sweat off of my brow and let out a breath. It had been a while since I was able to do something I enjoyed in this hellhole. Walking over to the table, I sat down across from His Majesty. I set the bucket with the trowel and weeds inside on the grass. “Whatcha reading?”

“Monthly business reports from the different Sins. I doubt you’d find it entertaining. I certainly don’t.”

I had to chuckle. It was kind of funny to see this side of him. Wait a minute, what am I thinking?! Are you stupid?! He kidnapped you and is trying to court you! Get a grip, woman!

I shook my head and fiddled with my fingers. “Say, how about I take you out for dinner tonight. You’ve been so lovely here at home and I think we both deserve a treat.”

Oh you have no idea how wrong you are.

“Sounds nice. Anything you want me to wear?”

A smirk grew on his lips and he ran his claws up and down my arm. Goosebumps appeared on my skin and I had to suppress a shudder. “That red dress we got you would be a nice statement piece. Really sell the whole ‘you’re mine’ ideology.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I know you’ll do the right thing.”

Yeah right.

I pulled my arm away so he’d stop touching it. “I was maybe going to go read in the library if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course, my dear. I’m almost done here so I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

I nodded and began to walk away. I heard him hum so I turned to look at him. He seemed so happy as he signed something. I almost felt bad for leaving him shortly but then I reminded myself of all the things he had done to me. Keep your focus, Y/n. Don’t lose sight.

I grunted and made my way inside to the library on the second floor. When I got there I walked over to one of the various bookcases. There were ten in total and each one reached the high vaulted ceiling. I scanned the titles of some of the books and landed on a fantasy novel, The Last Human. Quite the odd book to have.

I peeled it from its brothers and sat down in one of the plush leather, burgundy armchairs. I opened it and began to read. A few hours passed as I read, Lucifer coming in to join me at some point. He chose the chair next to mine and I felt his fingers playing with my thigh. I tried to not pay much attention to it and concentrate on my book. The novel itself was quite interesting, a spin on The Last Unicorn if you will.

When night had fallen, the two of us changed. I donned the red, floor length garment that he wanted me to wear while Lucifer put on a black tuxedo. A servant drove us to the inner sanctum of the city and when we stopped His Majesty helped me out of the car. I thanked him and took the arm he held out. We walked into the posh looking restaurant and the cat hostess seemed surprised to see us. “Your Highness, welcome.”

“Hello. I placed a reservation for two earlier today.”

“Let me check the list.”

Her finger scanned down a piece of paper and then tapped a specific spot. “Here we are. Follow me please.”

She led us past several tables before we reached a table in the middle of the room. The table had a white tablecloth and vase with a rose in it. A candle in a glass bubble sat next to the vase in the center. Lucifer acted like a gentleman and pulled my chair out for me. He scooted it close before taking his seat. “Somebody will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.”

The hostess left us and not even a minute later an imp waitress appeared. “Hello, my name is Jenny and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get started for you two?”

“A bottle of your finest champagne, please.”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

She bowed and ran off. “Champagne? What’s the special occasion?” “What? A man can’t enjoy some fancy liquor with the woman he loves?”

He reached across the table and squoze my hand. I felt some heat rise to my cheeks and I looked away. The restaurant was quite packed. All the tables had some form of couple sitting at it. Our waitress returned with two tall glasses and a green bottle that read Beelzebub’s Special Brew. She popped the cork and poured some champagne into each of our glasses. “Now could I get you two something to eat?”

“Yes, just some pasta for both of us.”

“Of course, Sire. I’ll be out with that shortly.”

I watched as she ran off again. “I hope that was okay. I know you tend to favor pasta when Belfazaar serves it at home.”

“It’s fine.”

I grabbed my glass and took a sip. It was quite good, a bit on the sweeter side. “How is it?”

“Good. I’ll admit I haven’t had champagne since the last wedding I attended.”

At the mention of Earth, I could feel my aura dampen. While my “lover” tried to make my stay as homey as possible, I still longed for the green and blue planet. Lucifer must have noticed the mood change because the hand on top of mine caressed it lightly. “Still missing Earth, huh?”

I nodded. He sighed. “I thought I was making your stay in Hell quite cozy.”

“You have made it as comfortable as you can, Lucifer. Truly. I just miss my home is all.”

“Then perhaps I need to step up.”

Suddenly he stood and pulled out a black box. “Lucifer, what are you-”

I stopped when I saw him kneel. My eyes widened and my breath hitched. No, he couldn’t possibly be…

He opened the box and amongst the plush red velvet lay a golden ring made to look like a snake. Everyone in the restaurant started to gasp and I could see demons pull out their phones to record what was happening. “Please, don’t do this.”

The attention just made Lucifer more happy. “Y/n, I know you’ve been struggling with Hell lately. Trust me, I was there too once. However, I want to be by your side and make you comfortable, happy. More than anything I want to shelter and adore you. I think it’s time we made this official. Will you, Y/n L/n, marry me?”

My body stilled and my mind went blank. Everyone’s attention was on the two of us and the stares made my body flare up. I gulped. What should I do? What should I do?! WHAT SHOULD I DO?! If I accept, will I ever be able to go home? If I don’t, what will he do? He’s capable of so many things, what will he choose to do to me?

I could feel my breath getting stuck in my chest and my eyes started to water. Was it always this hot in here?

“I, I, I-”

“Please, Y/n. Make me the happiest man in all of Hell.”

He lifted the box a bit higher and the ring seemed to sparkle in the light. I looked into his eyes and could only find adoration there, them sparkling just like the ring. Everyone’s staring, just say something. JUST SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT!

“Y-YES!”

I slapped my hands over my mouth quickly but it was too late. Lucifer plucked the piece of jewelry out of the box and put it on my ring finger. He stood up and for the first time kissed my lips. My eyes widened and I went to push him away, but he grabbed my hands in a tight hold. Everyone around us was applauding and cheering us on and I just wanted to die inside. He pulled away and caressed my cheek lightly. “I love you, my dear.”

He sat himself back in his chair and smiled at me from across the table. I held my hand and looked at the piece of jewelry now adorning it. It was quite intricate for an engagement ring. Each one of the snake’s scales was engraved into the gold and a little diamond made up the eye. “Quite lovely, isn’t it? I’ve had that made since we first met. It feels nice to finally gift it to you.”

I was sick of looking at it, so I slid my hand under the tablecloth. So that’s why the courting had been ramped up recently. Because he was going to ask me to marry him.

“I thought it would be special to make it in the form we met in. That way it would be more meaningful to our relationship. I hope you like it, darling.”

I just nodded. I couldn’t force myself to say anything in case I said something rash and ruined my plan. Jenny came back to our table with two bowls and set them down. “Here we are. And congratulations on the engagement! I’m looking forward to the wedding.”

“Looks delicious, thanks!”

The two of us picked up our forks and began to eat. I slowly picked at mine and ate little bites while Lucifer talked. “So when do you want to have the wedding, darling? I was thinking a couple months from now when the Pentagram moon will be out. It’ll make the day even more special! Oh, we’ll have to get planning right away! I have so many ideas in mind, how about you?”

“I guess.”

“Are you alright, my little apple?”

“I’m feeling a bit sick actually. Could we maybe go home?”

“Of course, my dear. Let me just pay the check.”

Lucifer flagged down our waitress, paid the bill and then led me out to the car. Customers kept shouting at us congratulations as we left and I remained silent the whole ride home. When we arrived inside, I immediately headed for the bedroom. If I was going to escape, it better be tonight. “I think I’ll take a bath and then head to bed, Lucifer.”

“Alright. I’ll be in my office for a bit. I hope you feel better soon, dear.”

He gave me a light peck on the forehead and then left. Now to put my plan into action.

I headed to the wardrobe and pulled out a light blue nightgown. I grabbed it and went into the bathroom. Locking the door, I pulled off the red dress and put on the nightgown. Opening the cabinet, I pulled out my rope. Grabbing the red dress, I attached it to the end and tied the rope to the foot of the bathtub. Tugging on it to make sure it was secure, I unlatched the window and threw it out. I looked back at the door to make sure nobody was there and then began climbing down. My stomach twisted as I was quite high up and my foot had slipped a couple of times, but I finally made it to the ground. Peering around the corner of the palace, I saw David and Goliath sleeping in the front yard. Good to go.

I bolted as fast as I could to the hole in the fence. I moved aside the bushes and quickly squoze through. I hissed as the fence had caused a couple of gashes on my arm and tore a bit of my nightgown from the sharp edges. Looking around for some kind of direction, I saw in the distance the sparkling marquee that read Hazbin Hotel. I grinned and ran like my life depended on it.

~~~

TAGLIST

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fairuzfan · 6 months ago

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During an appearance at Vassar College in early February, controversial New York Times Jerusalem bureau chief Ethan Bronner was asked about the ongoing evictions of Palestinian families from homes in East Jerusalem which Israel occupied in 1967. Israeli courts have ruled that Jewish settlers could take over some Palestinian homes on the grounds that Jews held title to the properties before Israel was established in 1948.

Bronner was concerned, but not only about Palestinians being made homeless in Israel’s relentless drive to Judaize their city; he was also worried about properties in his West Jerusalem neighborhood, including the building he lives in, partially owned by The New York Times, that was the home of Palestinians made refugees in 1948. Facts about The New York Times’ acquisition of this property are revealed for the first time in this article.

“One of the things that is most worrying not just the Left but a lot of people in Israel about this decision is if the courts in Israel are going to start recognizing property ownership from before the State [of Israel was founded],” Bronner said according to a transcript made by independent reporter Philip Weiss who maintains the blog Mondoweiss.net.

Bronner added, “I think the Palestinians are going to have a fairly big case. I for example live in West Jerusalem. My entire neighborhood was Palestinian before 1948.”

The New York Times-owned property Bronner occupies in the prestigious Qatamon neighborhood, was once the home of Hasan Karmi, a distinguished BBC Arabic Service broadcaster and scholar (1905-2007). Karmi was forced to flee with his family in 1948 as Zionist militias occupied western Jerusalem’s Arab neighborhoods. His was one of an estimated 10,000 Palestinian homes in West Jerusalem that Jews took over that year.

The New York Times bought the property in 1984 in a transaction overseen by columnist Thomas Friedman who was then just beginning his four-year term as Jerusalem bureau chief.

Hasan Karmi’s daughter, Ghada, a physician and well-known author who lives in the United Kingdom, discovered that The New York Times was in – or rather on top of – her childhood home in 2005, when she was working temporarily in Ramallah. One day Karmi received a call from Steven Erlanger, then The New York Times Jerusalem bureau chief, who had just read her 2002 memoir In Search of Fatima.

Karmi recalled in a 15 May 2008 interview on Democracy Now! that Erlanger told her, “I have read your marvelous memoir, and, do you know, I think I’m living above your old house … From the description in your book it must be the same place” (“Conversation with Palestinian Writer and Doctor Ghada Karmi”).

At Erlanger’s invitation, Karmi visited, but did not find the elegant one-story stone house her family had moved into in 1938, that was typical of the homes middle- and upper-class Arabs began to build in Jerusalem suburbs like Qatamon, Talbiya, Baqa, Romema or Lifta toward the end of the 19th century. The original house was still there, but at some point after 1948 two upper stories had been built.

Erlanger, responding to questions posed by The Electronic Intifada via email, described the residence as “built over the Karmi family house – on its air rights, if you like. The [New York Times] is not in [the Karmi] house.” Erlanger described the building as having an “unbroken” facade but that it consisted of “two residences, two ownerships, two heating systems,” and a separate entrance for the upper levels reached via an external staircase on the side.

Questions The Electronic Intifada sent to Thomas Friedman about the purchase of the property were answered by David E. McCraw, Vice President and Assistant General Counsel for the newspaper, who wrote that the original Karmi house itself “was never owned even partly by The Times. The Times purchased in the 1980s a portion of the building that had been constructed above it in the late 1970s.” The purchase was made from “a Canadian family that had bought them from the original builders of the apartment.”

McCraw acknowledged in a follow-up conversation that as a general principle of property law, the “air rights�� of a property – the right to build on top of it or use (and access) the space above it – belong to the owner of the ground.

Exiled from Qatamon

Ghada Karmi standing by the front door of her childhood home in Jerusalem’s Qatamon neighborhood in 2005. (Steven Erlanger)

Hasan Karmi hailed originally from Tulkarem, in what is now the northern West Bank. In 1938, he moved his family to Jerusalem to take up a job in the education department of the British-run Palestine Mandate government. Ghada – born around November 1939 (the exact date is unknown because her birth certificate along with all the family’s records, photographs, furniture, personal possessions and an extensive library were lost with the house) – has vivid memories of a happy childhood in what was a well-to-do mixed neighborhood of Arab Christians and Muslims, foreigners and a few Jewish families. The neighbors with whom her parents socialized and with whose children the young Ghada and her siblings played included the Tubbeh, Jouzeh, Wahbeh and Khayyat families. There was also a Jewish family called Kramer, whose father belonged to the Haganah, the Zionist militia that became the Israeli army after May 1948.

Karmi describes the house at length in her memoir – but she told The Electronic Intifada her fondest memories were of the tree-filled garden where she spent much time playing with her brother and sister and the family dog Rex. The lemon and olive trees she remembers are still there, Erlanger noted to The Electronic Intifada.

In the mid-1940s, the lively Qatamon social life gave way to terror as the dark clouds of what would come to be known as the Nakba approached. Violence broke out all over Jerusalem after the UN’s devastating recommendation to partition Palestine without giving its people any say in the matter. Spontaneous riots by Arabs were followed by organized violence from Zionist groups and mutual retaliatory attacks that claimed lives from both communities. This climate provided the pretext for the Haganah’s premeditated campaign to seize Jerusalem.

Poorly armed and disorganized Arab irregulars, who had nevertheless succeeded in disrupting Zionist supply convoys to Jerusalem, proved no match for highly-trained and well-armed Zionist militias which, on the orders of David Ben-Gurion, began a well-planned campaign to conquer the western parts of the city. The occupation of western Jerusalem and some 40 villages in its vicinity was executed as part of the Haganah’s “Plan Dalet.” These events are well documented in books including Benny Morris’ The birth of the Palestinian refugee problem, 1947-1949 (1987), Walid Khalidi’s (ed.) All That Remains: The Palestinian Villages Occupied and Depopulated by Israel in 1948 (1992), Salim Tamari’s (ed.) Jerusalem 1948: The Arab Neighborhoods and their Fate in the War (1999) and Ilan Pappe’s The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (2006).

Zionist militias used frequent bombings of Arab civilians to terrorize residents into fleeing. These attacks were amplified by posters and warnings broadcast over loudspeakers that those choosing to remain behind would share the fate of those killed in atrocities.

Karmi wrote that one night in November 1947, their neighbor Kramer came to see her father and said, “I have come to tell you at some risk to myself to take your family and leave Jerusalem as soon as possible …. Please believe me, it is not safe here.” Many Qatamon families left after the Zionist bombing of the nearby Semiramis Hotel, which killed 26 civilians including the Spanish consul-general, on the night of 4-5 January 1948.

The Karmis however held on, and Ghada records in her memoir her mother steadfastly saying, “The Jews are not going to drive me out of my house … Others may go if they like, but we’re not giving in.”

Toward the end of April, bombardment by Zionist militias against virtually undefended Arab areas became so heavy, and the terror generated by the Deir Yassin massacre earlier that month so intense, that the Karmis relented and departed by taxi for Damascus, via Amman, with nothing but a few clothes. Their intention was to bring the children to safety at their maternal grandparents’ house while the adults would return home to Jerusalem. A few days after reaching Damascus the elder Karmis tried to return to Jerusalem but were unable to do so. So began the family’s exile that continues to this day.

As Arabs left their homes, Jews were moved in by the Haganah. “While the cleansing of Qatamon went on,” Itzhak Levy, the head of Haganah intelligence in Jerusalem recalled, “pillage and robbery began. Soldiers and citizens took part in it. They broke into the houses and took from them furniture, clothing, electric equipment and food” (quoted in Pappe, p.99). Meron Benvenisti, an Israeli scholar and former deputy mayor of Jerusalem, wrote in his book Sacred Landscape of personally witnessing the “looting of Arab homes in Qatamon” as a boy. Palestinians also lost art work, financial instruments and – like the Karmis – irreplaceable family records, as the fabric of a society and a way of life were destroyed.

Jerusalem return denied

The Karmis’ story is a variation of what happened to tens of thousands of Jerusalem-area Palestinians during the Nakba, in which approximately 750,000 Palestinians were expelled or fled from their homes all over the country and never allowed to return. (In my book One Country I describe the departure under similar circumstances of my mother’s family from Lifta-Romema.)

As of 1997, there were 84,000 living West Jerusalem refugees (23,000 born before 1948), according to Tamari. Half lived in the West Bank, many just miles from their original homes, but thousands of others were spread across Jordan, Lebanon, Syria and the Gaza Strip.

Arab property is well-documented through administrative and UN records, but tracing the fate of an individual house or proving title is extremely difficult if not impossible for Palestinians scattered, exiled and forbidden from returning home. Some, who have foreign passports that allowed them to make brief visits, have attempted to locate their family properties. In recent years a small Israeli group called Zochrot (Remembering) has even joined in – taking some displaced Palestinians back to their original villages and homes, whose traces Israel often made deliberate efforts to conceal or destroy. But such activities are not welcomed by most Israeli Jews still in denial about their state’s genesis.

Ghada Karmi recalls an earlier attempt to revisit her family home in 1998. The residents were unwelcoming and would not give her the phone number of the landlord, though a plaque outside bore the name “Ben-Porat.”

The owner of the original, lower-level house at the time The New York Times bought the upper levels was Yoram Ben-Porat, an economics professor who became president of the Hebrew University and was killed with his wife and young son in a road accident in October 1992. According to Erlanger, the house remained with heirs from the Ben-Porat family who rented it out until it was sold in 2005 to an Israeli couple who did some remodeling. It is unknown when the Ben-Porats acquired the house or if they were the ones who had the upper levels built.

During Karmi’s 2005 visit, Erlanger invited her to see his part of the house and introduced her to the Israeli tenants in the lower level who gave her free access while Erlanger took photographs. For Karmi, revisiting the house was disconcerting. She described to The Electronic Intifada its occupants as “Ashkenazi Jewish Israelis, liberals, nice people who wanted to be nice.” She felt like asking them, “how can you live here knowing this is an Arab house, knowing this was once owned by Arabs, what goes through your mind?” But, she explained, “in the way people have of not wanting to upset people who appear to be nice, I didn’t say anything.”

The New York Times

In the early years after their original residents left, many of the former Arab neighborhoods were run down. But in the 1970s, wealthier Israeli Jews began to gentrify them and acquiring an old Arab house became a status symbol. Today, Israeli real estate agencies list even small apartments in Qatamon for hundreds of thousands of dollars or more, and house prices can run into the millions. In Jerusalem, such homes have become popular especially with wealthy American Jews, according to Pappe. The New York Times did not disclose what it paid for the Qatamon property.

It was a curious decision for The New York Times to have purchased part of what must obviously have been property with – at the very least – a political, moral and legal cloud over its title. Asked whether The New York Times or Friedman had made any effort to learn the history of the property, the newspaper responded, “Neither The Times nor Mr. Friedman knew who owned the original ground floor prior to 1948.”

As Friedman prepared to make the move to Jerusalem from Beirut where he was covering the Lebanon war in the early 1980s, The Times hired an Israeli real estate agent to help him locate a home. According to McCraw, Friedman’s wife Ann went ahead to Jerusalem and looked at properties “and she, working with the agent, made the selection for The Times.” During the process Friedman visited Jerusalem and looked at properties as well, a fact he mentions in his book From Beirut to Jerusalem. By the time the property was selected, Friedman had moved permanently to Jerusalem and oversaw the closing.

The choice of the Qatamon property – over several modern apartments that the real estate agent also showed – makes The New York Times a protagonist and interested party in one of the most difficult aspects of the Palestine conflict: the property and refugee rights of Palestinians that Israel has adamantly denied. It also raises interesting questions about what such choices have on news coverage – with which the newspaper itself has had to grapple.

In 2002, an Electronic Intifada article partly attributed the pervasive underreporting of Israeli violence against Palestinians to “a structural geographic bias” – the fact that “most US news organizations who have reporters on the ground base them in Tel Aviv or west Jerusalem, very far from the places where Palestinians are being killed and bombarded on a daily basis” ( Michael Brown and Ali Abunimah, “Killings of dozens once again called ‘period of calm’ by US media, 20 September 2002).

In 2005, The New York Times’ then Public Editor Daniel Okrent echoed this criticism, writing:

“The Times, like virtually every American news organization, maintains its bureau in West Jerusalem. Its reporters and their families shop in the same markets, walk the same streets and sit in the same cafes that have long been at risk of terrorist attack. Some advocates of the Palestinian cause call this ‘structural geographic bias.’” (“The Hottest Button: How The Times Covers Israel and Palestine,” 24 April 2005).

Okrent recommended that in order to broaden the view of the newspaper’s reporters, it should locate a correspondent in Ramallah or Gaza – where she or he would share the daily experiences, concerns and risks of Palestinians. This advice went unheeded, just as Executive Editor Bill Keller recently publicly rejected the advice of the current public editor that current Jerusalem Bureau Chief Ethan Bronner should be reassigned because of the conflict of interest created by Bronner’s son’s voluntary enlistment in the Israeli army.

Thus, in a sense, Bronner’s structural and personal identification with Israel has become complete: when the younger Bronner joins army attacks in Gaza, fires tear gas canisters or live bullets at nonviolent demonstrators trying to save their land from confiscation in West Bank villages, or conducts night arrest raids in Ramallah or Nablus – as he may well be ordered to do – his father will root for him, worry about him, perhaps hope that his enemies will fall in place of his son, as any Israeli parent would. And on weekends, the elder Bronner will await his soldier-son’s homecoming to a property whose true heirs live every day, like millions of Palestinians, with the unacknowledged trauma, and enduring injustice of dispossession and exile.

#palestine #palestine history

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brummiereader · 1 year ago

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PREVIOUS PART

Killing Me Softly (PART THREE/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: You and Tommy have barely said a word to eachother since your wedding night, the tension building, Tommy's facade finally drops.

Warnings: Language, angst, psychological mind games, manipulative behaviour, controlling behaviour, Dark!Tommy (this is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

"Where's my wife?" Tommy asked looking up from his newspaper as he sat at the end of the large dining table, a cigarette in his mouth.

"She's still in bed Sir, she said she's not hungry" Frances answered nervously clutching onto her apron. It had been almost two weeks since your wedding day and the tension was palpable. You and Tommy had barely said another word to eachother since your wedding night, sleeping in separate rooms you had been avoiding him at all costs. You hadn't left the house in five days, and even when you did it was only to venture out onto the grounds of the property, one of Tommy's henchmen always a few feet behind you. You had neither seen nor heard from your mother, friends or Tommy's family since your arrival at Arrow House, everyone giving the happy newlyweds space, that's what he said. The truth was, Tommy was keeping them from you, keeping you from telling them how miserable you truly felt. Folding the newspaper in half Tommy threw it onto the table In front of him, his chair scrapping across the wooden floors beneath him as he stood up.

" Tell her I expect to see her sitting there at that table, at noon, for when I come back" he said sternly as he walked towards the entrance.

" Yes Sir" Frances nodded as she closed the dinning room door.

"Oh and Frances" he stopped as he got to the door. "Tell the chef to make lamb" He smirked as he looked up at the large wooden stairs in the foyer.

" Yes Mr Shelby" she dutifully answered as she watched Tommy walk out the front door.

Laying in bed you flinched as you heard the door of his car slam shut. He was gone, breathing a sigh of relief you sat up looking over to his side of the bed, this was not how you thought your first two weeks of being a married woman would be, even for an arranged marriage.

Deciding not to lay in bed all day and worry about your already fragile marriage, you got up putting your light pink silk dressing gown on, one you could only imagine Tommy had picked out for you, like everything else he had chosen on your behalf. Walking down the large wooden staircase you was met with Frances waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.

" He's gone then?"

" Yes Mam" she answered with concerned eyes.

" Did he say anything?" you questioned as your fingers picked at the wooden banister.

" He said he would like to see you at lunch Mam"

"I doubt he said it as nice as you" you smiled as you placed a hand on her arm." Thank you, Frances" you added as you walked off into the kitchen in search of something to eat.

"Mrs Shelby please, let me get you something" she called out.

" It's ok Frances I don't mind " you replied, still not used to being waited on.

Sitting by the window in the study, a book on your lap, you looked out at the gardens In front of you, Tommy's horses galloping in the fields behind them. How had things gotten so bad so quickly? You pondered as you spun your wedding ring around your finger over and over again. Tommy was a man who always got what he wanted, never to be talked back to, never to be refused, and when you did just that on your wedding night he had clearly not taken it very well. Was it all your fault though? You questioned yourself, doubting every conversation and action you had done and had over the past two weeks. You just wanted to get to know him again, did he not want that too?

"Mam, it's Miss Polly Gray on the phone, should I tell her to call you back another time?" Frances asked as she opened the door to the study.

" No no, it's fine, I'll take it, thank you Frances" you said getting up, placing the book down on the chair you was sitting on. Hurrying to the phone you quickly picked up the receiver placing it to your ear.

" Polly?"

" Y/N, how are you love? We haven't seen you in a while"

" I'm so happy to hear your voice Polly" you replied, your emotions threatening to be made known at any moment.

" Enjoying newlywed bliss?" she chuckled over the phone, completely unaware of the current state of things.

" Something like that" you sighed with a small laugh as you played with the cord of the phone.

" What's wrong Y/N ?" nothing could get past Polly, she always knew.

" Me and Tommy, well ...things have not been going that great" you replied in a shaky voice, your eyes starting to fill with tears.

" Oh love... right I'm coming over, this afternoon at four, I will have my driver bring me" Polly replied, concern In her voice, knowing too well how Tommy could get.

" Ok" you said as you sniffed back your tears.

" I'll see you in a few hours, don't worry we'll sort it all out.

" Ok, bye Polly" you said as you put the phone down. Was this a good idea? What would Tommy think of you talking about your marriage to someone else. But Polly could help, she was his Aunt after all, family, someone Tommy knew.

Looking up at the large clock in the foyer you noticed it was nearly noon, Tommy would be back any minute. Hurrying back upstairs you quickly shut the bedroom door, hoping to avoid him once again.

" Mr Shelby" Frances greeted Tommy at the door.

" My wife?" he asked as he handed her his suit jacket.

"She's upstairs Sir" she replied nervously as Tommy cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

" Did you not tell her that i expected to see her in the dining room?" He asked, his voice getting irritated with each second that passed.

" Yes Sir, she's very tired, I think she needs rest" Frances said trying to excuse you from his anger.

" Tired" he scoffed as he started marching up the stairs to your shared room. "I'm fucking tired, tired of this shit" he said under his breath, his steps echoing through the house as he walked up the stairs. "Seems my dear wife needs a helping hand getting of bed Frances!" he called out angrily as Frances hurried off, not wanting to get in the middle of a marital dispute.

"Y/N!" he bellowed as he got to the top of the stairs, throwing the bedroom door open.

" Tommy..." you replied in surprise as you sat up, eyes widening as you watched him storm over to your side of the bed.

" Been laying in bed all fucking morning eh?" he asked as he pulled the sheets away from you, scoffing when you closed your dressing gown tightly around your body.

"Why are you not downstairs in the dinning room, like I asked, hm?" he demanded to know, grabbing you by the hand as he pulled you out the bed.

" I'm not a child Tommy, you don't get to talk to me like that" you answered, irritation in your voice as you pulled his hand off you. Tommy was right behind you as you marched down the stairs to the dining room, you swore you could feel his eyes piercing into the back of your head, your stubbornness only angering him more. Once again you had disobeyed him, and this time he was going to make sure you knew it. Spinning you around, Tommy pulled you flush against his body, his arm hooked around the bottom of your back.

" Stop fucking acting like a child, and I'll stop treating you like one, ok sweetheart?" he said quietly into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, his words laced with anger as his hand traveled slowly up your back grabbing a handful of your dressing gown. Firmly holding onto your robe, Tommy spun you back around in one quick motion, pushing you down onto the dining table chair.

" Good" he said, hitching his suit trousers up as he sat down next to you, satisfied you hadn't talked back. What would be the point in arguing with him, your words would only go unheard, Tommy always had to be right. You decided not to say anything, instead you pinned all your hopes on Polly's visit, praying she could get through to her nephew and help your already rocky marriage. Lighting a cigarette, Tommy watched you as he inhaled the tobacco. He had you just the way he wanted, eyes cast down, submissive, subservient, the perfect little wife.

A knock on the dinning room door had you both looking up as Frances wheeled two plates of food in. As she made her way around the dining table you noticed almost instantly what had been prepared, your eyes darting to Tommy you watched the smirk form on his lips as he flicked the ash of his cigarette into a glass dish.

" Is there a problem?" he asked, a devilish darkness overtaking his eyes as he watched you look down at the plate of food now in front of you.

"I can get you something else Mrs Shelby?" Frances asked as she looked between you and Tommy.

" No it's fine, thank you" you answered as you breathed in the gamy smell of the lamb, your stomach already turning at its odor. His pettiness was blatant, you knew exactly what he was doing, it was childish, immature, and you refused to play along.

"Eat" he said as he nodded to the plate of food In front of you. Picking up your knife and fork, you cut a small piece of lamb, raising it to your lips as Tommy watched you intently. Placing it in your mouth, you looked over to him as the smugness spread across his face, he was enjoying this, enjoying his cruelness play out.

" You invited Polly to come today?" he asked as he took a sip of whiskey. Nodding, you slowly chewed on the piece of meat, swallowing harshly as Tommy watched your throat bob up and down as the food made its way down.

" Next time you invite someone, you ask me first"

" Tommy this is my home too, I don't have to inform you of everything I do" you replied, dropping your fork onto the plate, unable to eat anymore, your frustration mounting with him.

" But you do love" he said as he grabbed your chin turning you to face him. " You're my wife, so you'll do as I say. Now eat" he said picking your fork back up.

" I can't Tommy, I don't feel good " you answered. Was it the taste of the lamb already, or his controlling words that had your stomach churning, you couldn't tell anymore. Staring at him your eyes started to fill with tears. Taking a drag of his cigarette Tommy looked at you unsympathetically as one lone tear fell down your cheek. With your hand to your mouth, you bolted up, running as fast as you could to the closest bathroom. Bending over the toilet you threw up as you tried to hold back your hair away from the toilet seat.

"Hey, hey..." you heard softly from behind you as Tommy bent down next to you, collecting your hair into his hand as he rubbed your back while you hurled into the toilet once more.

Wiping your mouth you turned to him as you flushed the toilet.

" Why would you do that?" you asked weakly, tears streaming down your face.

"Do what?" He questioned a look of confusion in his eyes as he tried to fool you with his bewilderment, but all you could see was the smirk playing on the corner of his lips threatening to expose his cruelness. Turning back to the toilet you threw up again, gagging at the taste in your mouth.

" You see what happens when you don't talk to me hm, when you ignore me? How am I suppose to know anything about you, if you never say anything to me eh? he said as he continued to stroke your back.

" But...Tommy at the wedding I told you that..."

"Shh shh" he hushed you, pulling you into his chest as he gently caressed your hair, exhaling at the close contact of your warm body.

" Let me take care of you Y/N, stop fighting it." he said as he kissed the top of your head. In your weak state you found yourself leaning into his embrace, clutching onto his chest as he responded by holding you tighter against him, placing another kiss to your temple. Had he forgotten what you had said at the wedding? His sudden behaviour was confusing, he blew hot and cold with you as quick as his temper changed, you couldn't keep up.

For another hour you laid in bed, Tommy telling you to sleep as he worked in his office, ordering his men to go home for the rest of the day now he was back. But sleep was the last thing you did. Your thoughts had been consuming you as you bit anxiously on your nails. He was playing with you like a child plays with a toy, he hadn't forgotten, he knew exactly what he was doing. Having had enough of his constant change in personality, you decided to be as petty as him and play along with his little games..since he clearly enjoyed it so much. Marching down the stairs you walked right past his office as he looked up from his desk.

" Y/N, why are you not in bed? " he asked, getting up from his chair, following you as you walked out the back door to the gardens. Scoffing at him you ignored his question. In bed, exactly where he wants you to be, knowing where you are, doing what he wants, controlling you.

" What do you think your doing?" He said as he caught up to you.

" Going for a walk " you answered as you started making your way to the woods behind the house." Is that a problem?" you said sarcastically, echoing the words he would often use. Clenching his fist he watched you as you walked away from him.

" You'll get lost!" he shouted as he stood by the door.

" I'm a grown woman Tommy" you shouted back, your arms folded as you stormed off. So tempted to see his reaction, you turned around to see him staring at you, brushing his hand down his face as he then gripped his chin with his fingers.

A satisfied look spread across your face, you enjoyed the fact your defiance was getting to him, just like he enjoyed toying with your emotions. Was this a dangerous game to play though, for how long could you really keep this up?

It had been an hour since you stormed off, and you was officially lost. Fuck. Looking down at the floor you kicked a pile of sticks in frustration, Tommy having been right only angering you even more. Looking around in a panic, you tried to remember the route you took, but everything looked the same. A noise Suddenly caught your attention as you span around, your eyes trying to look through the endless row of tress in front of you. This was England, you tried to rationalise to yourself. The chances of a bear coming out at you, zero to none, a wolf maybe, or it could be the devil himself, you laughed to yourself. Is that what you was calling him now, your husband? Then you heard it again. Walking in the opposite direction you quickly picked up the pace as you glanced behind you once more, the rustling suddenly got louder, and that's when you saw it, a small rabbit not far from where you was standing, a sigh of relief swept over you as you walked over to the small ball of fluff. Bending down you put your hand out coaxing it forwards.

" Hello little guy, you scared me" you said as it quickly bounced off in the opposite direction. Your senses no longer on alert, you hadn't noticed the real threat standing next to you. The snap of a branch had you suddenly turning back around.

" Lost little bunny?" Tommy said a smirk on his face, as he leaned against a tree watching you, a cloud of smoke bellowing into the country air. Of course he had followed you, was he afraid you would run off and leave him?

" You followed me" you said, upset that no matter where you went or what you did he would always have his eye on you.

"Maybe you would prefer rabbit for lunch next time" he joked in a sister tone. " Come on, you've had your little tantrum, now let's go" he said taking your hand only for you to push it away.

" No. I'll go when I'm ready" you said adamantly as you watched the anger rise in his already tense body.

" Y/N, you're coming home with me now or els..."

" When I'm ready" you said sterner, Interrupting him.

" Fine. Spend all night here. See if I fucking care" he replied turning away from you, storming off as he threw his cigarette onto the ground. That was the last thing you wanted to do. You watched the route he took back as you slowly followed the same path.

It had been more than an hour until you finally reached the front door to your house. Walking in you glanced up at the clock it was nearly four, you hadn't missed Polly's visit. Walking through the foyer, you was met by Tommy as he walked out the living room, Polly following behind him.

" My loving wife has returned" he said sarcastically as he took a sip of his whiskey.

"Polly" you said ignoring Tommy's remark as you walked up to her, giving her a hug as you looked over her shoulder to see Tommy smirking at you. I'm glad I didn't miss you, I was out for a walk and got a little lost"

" You did miss me, love" she said kissing your cheek, smiling to you.

" But...you said you was coming at four"

"Polly arrived an hour ago Y/N " Tommy said staring at you, his mouth slightly open as his eyes glistened with mischief.

" It's alright love, you must have forgotten. One of the secretary's left a note saying you rang and changed the time to three" she said as she started to put her coat on.

" I...I didn't rin.." you stopped, looking to Tommy as he swirled the whiskey around in his glass. And then the realisation hit you, Tommy had changed the times.

With Polly adjusting her coat in between you both, you and Tommy stared eachother down, your anger at boiling point. Neither of you saying anything you just glared at eachother waiting for the other to do something.

"I can't stay love, i have to get back. We will arrange for another time" she said as she kissed your cheek once again. "Tommy told me everything, you'll settle in soon" she whispered quietly into your ear. You watched on in disbelief, what had Tommy said to her? As soon as the door shut, you marched over to your husband, anger in your face ready to confront him.

" You did that on purpose! What did you say to her?" You shouted at him, pushing his chest with both of your hands.

" You sure you're not still sick love? Don't have a fever do you?" he said, a cocky smile on his lips as he turned away from you, walking to his office.

" You changed the times of her visit, am I not allowed to see anyone?" you asked in desperation, as you tried to stand In front of him, trying to get his attention. Annoyed by your insistence on the matter Tommy Slammed you against the wall as he pushed his body onto yours.

" What if I did hm? What was you going to tell her eh? How it's been so hard for you? My poor little wife, she's suffering so much. I have given you everything Y/N, everything. Do you not remember our agreement hm?" He said angrily as he held your head between his hands, his leg between yours to keep you in place.

Nervousness building inside you, you watched as his eyes turned that sinister black you feared so much. Tears streaming down your face you looked at Tommy pleading with unspoken words to let you go. Brushing away a tear with his thumb, Tommy let out a frustrated sigh.

" Look, the sooner you start acting like my wife the better things will be" he said, gently caressing your cheek as he leaned in to press his lips to your tear stained ones.

"Kiss me back Y/N" he moaned against your mouth, desperate to feel something from you.

" Still playing hard to get eh?" he hummed against your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closing as his hands stroked down your arms.

" I hate you" you said quietly as your voice trembled in fear. Tommy's forehead still pressed against yours, his eyes darted open meeting the fear in yours, fury spreading across his face as you pushed him away from you. Running up the stairs you turned around to see him staring at you, his eyes never once moving from you as he watched you run up the large wooden stairs.

You didn't hate him, Tommy reasoned to himself as he sat in the dark green upholstered arm chair, blowing a cloud of smoke to the ceiling. You was just getting used to your new life he quickly justified . You're words were laced with anger though, he thought to himself as he clenched his jaw, flicking the flame of his lighter on and off as he watched you sleep in the bed in front of him, the freshly cleaned bed sheets draped gently over your body. Taking another drag of his cigarette Tommy leaned forward, his hand slowly stroking up your uncovered leg as he watched you sleep. Your skin was so soft, so delicate under his fingers, why wouldn't you let him near you? let him hold you, kiss you... touch you. Frustration building up he pulled his hand away, his shoulders tense, his jaw tightening. You shouldn't test him, he didn't want to lose his temper, he didn't want to hurt you. Stirring you started to wake up, the smell of tobacco filling your senses. Sitting up you looked In front of you to see an empty chair at the bottom of the bed, a lit cigarette still burning in an ash tray on a small table beside it. Your eyes darted around the room in panic.

"Tommy" you called out as you looked to the the landing light beaming through the half opened bedroom door. Clutching the bed sheets to your chest, fear rose in your body.

He had been here, he had been watching you...

NEXT PART

Tag list: @litteltourtius @aesthetic0cherryblossom @swordofawriter @casa-boiardi @muhahaha303 @fmo166

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #killing me softly #tommy shelby imagine #dark!tommy

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estherax · 2 years ago

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Disco Elysium creative team VS Studio ZA/UM: the complete(?) timeline (updated on March 24th)

Recent news confused a lot of people, including me, so I made a timeline of events to understand the situation better! If you have any corrections, more info and sources feel free to reach out to me or add to this post!

Important parts are highlighted in orange, names and organizations to keep in mind are in italics, the newest corrections and updates are highlighted in green, other information elaborating on the situation is in (brackets).

October 1st, 2022. Martin Luiga puts out a Medium post announcing the dissolution of ZA/UM cultural association and confirming that Kurvitz, Hindpere, Rostov no longer work at ZA/UM studio "since the end of last year and their leaving the company was involuntary."

October 3rd 2022. Kotaku published an article, claiming "the studio hasn’t been transparent about what exactly happened with staff either." According to "two sources familiar with the situation, the studio’s internal announcement of Kurvitz’s departure late last year [2021] also contained a threat of possible legal action against him. Any split would have been made messier by Kurvitz and Rostov being shareholders in the studio, the sources said. It’s also clear ZA/UM has gone out of its way to try and keep the situation quiet. Kotaku reached out for an interview with Kurvitz in February [2022]. The studio declined on his behalf, but provided no indication the developer had already left the company." Kotaku also mentions a tweet from Martin Luiga announcing the dissolution of ZA/UM cultural association. One of Martin's tweets (further elaborating on the dissolution) was quote tweeted by user nob69691 with caption "the suits have killed disco", to which he responded with pictures of the game’s executive producers, Tõnis Haavel and Kaur Kender.

October 25th, 2022. Kotaku Australia reports Kurvitz’s company, Telomer, has filed an application against Studio ZA/UM to "obtain information and review documents." Court date is listed as November 28th, 2022.

Kotaku also reached out to Martin Luiga for a comment; when asked if the case’s purpose was to regain control of the Elysium IP, he responded, “What else could it possibly be?”

November 9th, 2022. Studio ZA/UM puts out a statement detailing the dismissed employees (unnamed) "had limited to no engagement in their responsibilities and work, created a toxic work environment, demonstrated misconduct towards other employees including verbal abuse and gender discrimination, and attempted to illegally sell ZA/UM's intellectual property".

In an Estonian newspaper, Estonian Ekspress, ZA/UM CEO Ilmar Kompus has further accused Kurvitz and shareholder Saandar Taal (Rostov's alias) of "humiliating colleagues and intending to steal IP" as well as "belittling women and co-workers."

Kompus added that their dismissal was demanded and carried out by Kaur Kender, executive producer on Disco Elysium and their direct manager at the time. Kender was placed on a leave of absence on medical grounds in late August according to Kompus.

Speaking to the Estonian Ekspress, Martin Luiga said he was "driven to drink by the unnatural work arrangement" at the studio. "The work was organised in such a way that the goal did not seem to be to make games, but rather to make people quarrel with each other."

(I am also adding anonymous claims, take them with a grain of salt)

One source that spoke to GamesIndustry.biz, who asked to remain anonymous, described the situation as "not black and white," and said that long-term staff were reluctant to speak out about Kurvitz’ behaviour because they respected him, and felt like they owed him for their positions. Sources that spoke to the Estonian Ekspress described a clash of two visions between the business team of ZA/UM led by Kompus, and the creative team formerly headed by Robert Kurvitz, which considered profit "secondary." This was corroborated by our sources, one of which described the situation as "CEO corporate scheming on one side, a toxic auteur on the other."

On the same day, Kurvitz and Rostov shared a Medium post explaining their side. Kurvitz and Rostov are minority shareholders in Studio ZA/UM, while "the majority of this company’s shares were initially held by Margus Linnamäe, who provided the initial capital. In 2021, Linnamäe was bought out by another minority shareholder," a company called Tütreke. They say this company "is a vehicle for two Estonian businessmen — Ilmar Kompus and Tõnis Haavel." Kurvitz and Rostov described Linnamäe as a trusted majority shareholder, but didn't share the same sentiment regarding Kompus and Haavel. "As soon as they became majority shareholders, we were quickly excluded from daily operations, our employment was terminated and our access to the company’s information was shut off. Our firing came weeks after we started asking for documents and financial data, which is still being kept from us. We have now learned that Tütreke OÜ must have obtained control over Zaum Studio OÜ by fraud. We believe the money used by Tütreke OÜ to buy the majority stake was taken illegally from Zaum Studio OÜ itself".

Studio ZA/UM denied any claims of fraud and insisted that dismissal of wokers "was a decision that had to be taken for the wellbeing of the collective."

Correction: Ilmar Kompus's statement came out first on Estonian Ekspress on November 8th 2022 21:06. His statement and Studio ZA/UM's statement given to GameIndustry.biz were reproduced and published in a GameIndustry.biz report on November 9th. Rostov and Kurvitz's Medium statement came out later on November 9th. GameIndustry.biz report added an excerpt from Medium on November 10th. (i used Wayback Machine to check this, the report was updated between 11:08 and 11:53)

November 9th 2022. Kotaku puts out an article, summarizing the above statments from Studio ZA/UM, Kompus, Kurvitz and Rostov. "When asked by Kotaku, a spokesperson for ZA/UM declined to elaborate beyond its original statement [about dismissal of employees over misconduct], including whether the allegations also applied to Rostov as well as Helen Hindpere."

23rd of November, 2022. PC Gamer reports a hearing was held in Harju County Court in October, where Kurvitz and Rostov argued that Kompus had allegedly sold four concept sketches (for Disco Elysium sequel), to Tütreke for just over €1 and then immediately bought them back for €4.8 million using Studio ZA/UM's money. This amount is what was apparently used to buy Linnamäe's large stake, and put it in the hands of Kompus. "Kompus allegedly hoped that ZA/UM and Disco Elysium could be resold quickly. [...] But there remained a problem: Robert Kurvitz is the creator of Disco Elysium, still owns a piece of it, and has the right to block any acquisition."

The latest legal battle was lodged by Kaur Kender, executive producer and marketing manager of the game, "who claimed in court that Kompus cheated him out of just under €1,000,000." At Kender's request, the court seized Kompus' stake in Studio ZA/UM to prevent a sale or transfer of holdings during the proceedings.

Haavel is also accused in the lawsuit of following Kompus' actions. The filing pointed out that the holder of the IP rights to Disco Elysium is a subsidiary called YESSIRNOSIR LTD, which is owned by ZA/UM UK. The director of ZA/UM UK is Anu Reiman, who is also reportedly a partner of Haavel's. Kender claims that Haavel's involvement is being "kept secret" because he's €11.2 million in debt as a result of his 2015 conviction.

Speaking to the Estonian Ekspress, Kompus denied the existence of a lawsuit against him, and Haavel called the allegations "completely absurd." Both were shown legal documents by the outlet and did not respond.

December 8th, 2022. According to GamesIndustry.biz article, Kaur Kender has withdrawn a lawsuit against Tütreke.

Studio ZA/UM provided a statement from Kompus, but could not provide a reason for Kender's withdrawal. Kompus says: "We are pleased that Kender and his attorneys have chosen to withdraw their lawsuit – one that should never have been filed in the first place. Their decision affirms there was no basis for their accusations and that I have acted appropriately and responsibly, as underscored by the corporate records I provided."

The article also mentions Studio ZA/UM was unable to provide an update on the suit's progression against Kurvitz's company, Telomer.

PC Gamer reached for comment, Kender stated that his lawsuit against the owner of Studio ZA/UM proved to be successful and provided a timeline of the lawsuit:

Kaur Kender's lawsuit against the owner of ZA/UM was successful.

Kaur Kender's (his company, Chromed Investing OÜ) lawsuit against the owner of Zaum Studio OÜ proved to be successful.

On October 25, 2022, Kaur Kender's company filed a lawsuit against OÜ Tütreke (Ilmar Kompus company), in which was demanded the seizure of Zaum Studio OÜ's share belonging to OÜ Tütreke.

On October 29, 2022, the Estonian court secured the action and shares belonging to OÜ Tütreke were seized.

On October 31, 2022, the order securing the action was forwarded to Nasdaq and the Estonian Business Register.

On November 1, 2022, Kaur Kender sent a letter in English to contacts, including Ilmar Kompus and Tõnis Haavel, stating that the minority shareholders demand the convening of a general meeting.

On November 4, 2022, Ilmar Kompus' company OÜ Tütreke paid a total of 4 million euros to Zaum Studios OÜ in two payments.

On November 11, 2022, Ilmar Kompus' company OÜ Tütreke paid 800,000 euros to ZA/UM Studios OÜ.

Ilmar Kompus referred in the corresponding payment orders: "Return of the amounts received on the basis of the contract on 12.2021-01.2022 due to the nullity of the contract".

To the extent that Ilmar Kompus returned the illegally taken 4,800,000 euros, Kaur Kender achieved the goal of the lawsuit filed, and the court proceedings in this case will be terminated.

PC Gamer also provided commentary and an excerpt from Estonian Ekspress: "Eesti Ekspress reports that Kompus "paid back" €4.8 million to Studio ZA/UM in November. The outlet says that the reason provided for the transaction was that the €4.8 million "was received on the basis of a void transaction." Eesti Ekspress points out that Kompus "controls both sides" of that void transaction. [...] By now transferring €4.8 million to the company to repay it for a "void transaction," the intended message seems to be that he didn't use company money to buy his shares. But why did he have the €4.8 million in the first place?"

Robert Kurvitz told PC Gamer that his party is aware of "Kompus’s view that the money taken from ZA/UM Studio was 'repaid'." Kurvitz says he's seen a "partial bank statement allegedly confirming such repayment," but remains unclear on the "source and legal nature of this repayment, and the further use of the allegedly repaid funds."

"Further, any 'repayment' of the company’s money which was used to illegally acquire a majority stake does not erase the main consequence of the initial injustice⁠—which is that Kompus remains the majority owner, a position that he was only able to attain by using the company’s money as his own," said Kurvitz. "In light of this, there has been no material change in our situation, and we continue to consider our legal options. We cannot comment on the decisions taken by Kaur Kender with regard to his claim, to which we were never a party."

March 14, 2023. GamesIndustry.biz reports legal dispute between Studio ZA/UM and the game's producer Kaur Kender has been resolved.

"ZA/UM has announced that ex-staffer Kender has repaid all debts owed to it. Also, per a court order, Kender has repaid CEO Ilmar Kompus for legal fees from a lawsuit that was eventually withdrawn back in December. Additionally, he's divested all his shares in the games company.

Studio ZA/UM says both Kurvitz and Rostov have dropped their "unfair dismissal" claims due to lack of evidence. However, the company says it continues to face a "series of baseless allegations from former employees" and expects more claims to "fall apart under legal and factual scrutiny."

March 16, 2023. In a statement sent to GamesIndustry.biz, Kurvitz and Taal (alias for Aleksander Rostov) said the press release is false in multiple areas. The pair maintain they are the remaining minority shareholders of the studio. The developers explained, "The press release implies that our employment claims against the studio were withdrawn for lack of evidence. They were not. We see our dismissal as part of a larger campaign against us and will pursue legal options accordingly." The statement adds that they disagreed with Kender admitting the lawsuit he withdrew in December 2022 was misguided.

"Kender's lawsuit was based on the misuse of ZA/UM's funds (€4.8 million) by the majority shareholders [Ilmar Kompus and Tõnis Haavel] to increase their own stake in the company. In the press release, Kompus and Haavel admit to this misuse, arguing only that the money has been 'paid back to ZA/UM,' " the duo explained.

"Paying back stolen money, however, does not undo the crime; here, it does not undo the majority that Kompus and Haavel have illegally gained in ZA/UM."

Additionally, they described that, unlike Kender, they will not be silenced in this ongoing legal dispute. "Unlike Kender, we have not participated in the looting of ZA/UM, and Kompus and Haavel have no power over us."

March 23rd 2023. GamesIndustry.biz updates initial post with a reply statment from ZA/UM. The studio reiterated that Kender admitted that the lawsuit was misguided on his part. It said, "In addition, as part of a court order, he also paid the legal fees for CEO Ilmar Kompus, who had to respond to that now-withdrawn claim." ZA/UM adds, "Using details like 'looting,' 'stolen money,' and 'crime' make for riveting reading but are far from reality. The actual harm to the studio is not from some fictional 'looting,' but rather from Mr. Kurvitz and Mr. Taal, while employed by the studio, refusing to do their jobs, creating a toxic workplace, demeaning colleagues, and attempting to misappropriate Studio IP."

Additionally, the studio explained that Kurvitz and Taal are welcome to challenge these facts in court.

(The next court hearing is scheduled for September 11th.)

#disco elysium #de #studio zaum #za/um #i read like 15 articles for this i hope it helps #if i got something wrong please let me know

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 3 days ago

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by Sean Durns

It is deeply troubling that well-known reporters would offer apologetics for political violence, the very definition of terrorism. But this too is unsurprising, as a recent Washington Post headline reveals.

Police recently visited the home of two leaders of a Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) chapter at George Mason University, Jena and Noor Chanaa, who allegedly led a group of vandals that caused thousands of dollars in damage to campus property during pro-Hamas rallies. As the Washington Free Beacon noted:

When officers entered the Chanaa family home, they found firearms—modern weapons, not antiques—as well as scores of ammunition and foreign passports, all of which sat in plain view, according to court documents obtained by the Free Beacon and sources familiar with the investigation. They also found pro-terror materials, including Hamas and Hezbollah flags and signs that read “death to America” and “death to Jews,” according to court documents and sources familiar. Police seized the weapons under Virginia’s red flag law, arguing that Mohammad Chanaa, the students’ brother and a George Mason alumnus, was “linked to destruction of property in connection with a large group of people with like-minded rhetoric” and posed a danger to others given his possession of “terroristic” materials.

It should be national news that students at an American university seemingly possessed weapons and pro-terrorist propaganda. Yet, The Washington Post’s headline portrayed these miscreants with sympathy: “Campus ban for two pro-Palestinian activists sparks outcry at George Mason.”

The subhead added: “Two student activists with ties to GMU protesters were given four-year trespass notices for alleged vandalism.”

According to the Post, the real story isn’t that, at a time of rising antisemitism and violent attacks on Jews, two college students were found with weapons and materials celebrating US-designated terrorist groups. Rather, the “real story” is that some were upset that the two SJP leaders received trespass notices.

Indeed, at nearly every turn Post reporter — Dan Rosenweig-Ziff — cast the two in a sympathetic light. This is evident from the opening paragraph: “A coalition of organizations, representing faculty, staff, students and other advocacy groups at George Mason University and beyond is alleging that university police acted inappropriately in banning two pro-Palestinian students from campus and searching their family’s home for reasons authorities have yet to describe publicly,” the Post writes.

Tellingly, the newspaper provides readers with no details about Students for Justice in Palestine.

#washington post #media bias #sjp #students for justice in palestine #jena and noor chanaa #jena chanaa #noor chanaa #washington free becon

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beardedmrbean · 19 days ago

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Residents of Chicago are blasting Mayor Brandon Johnson over the city spending more than half a billion dollars on sheltering migrants, with one telling the Democrat to his face during a City Council meeting that he’s the "worst mayor in America."

The criticism surrounding Johnson and Chicago’s New Arrivals Mission – which so far has cost the city $574.5 million since its inception in August 2022 – comes as the mayor is trying to overcome a $1 billion budget shortfall by the end of the year. The City Council held a meeting Monday during which residents voiced their opposition to an approximately $60 million property tax increase floated as one way to help close the gap.

"I got a great way what we can do with this budget. First, let's start with cutting off illegals getting free everything, free housing, free schooling, free food. Yeah, let's start with that. That'll save us a lot of money," one woman told Johnson.

"Let's start there. Then, let's start with you. Your salary. You are going down in history as the worst mayor in America. Let's start with cutting yours. You making too much money," she continued.

CHICAGO TEACHERS UNION SLAMS NEWSPAPER THAT CALLED THEM OUT FOR THEIR MEMBERS’ CHRONIC ABSENCE

Another resident told Johnson that she is an immigrant who came to the U.S. legally and that she is "very, very embarrassed for what my other fellow Latin American citizens are doing in this city on behalf of the people that work, on behalf of the people that pay taxes, on behalf of the people that contribute to the city.

"I like to make clear that not everyone is the same. These people came with a wide door open, and they feel entitled to many things that nobody has. There are U.S. citizens suffering from poverty," she said. "There are U.S. citizens on public aid, and these people are here just enjoying the benefits, becoming delinquents, and they have no consequences."

At one point in the meeting, a resident asked Johnson for his "undivided attention."

"So this just proves to you the lack of leadership that you show in this city. You can't even give me straight eye contact," he said. "Now I'm going to let you know now, the people of Chicago, we're done with you.

Johnson’s office said in April that the goal of the New Arrivals Mission is to "provide short-term, emergency shelter to manage this humanitarian crisis, while making long-term investments in the City’s capacity to handle future challenges related to displacement and emerging migration patterns.

"Since August 2022, Texas Governor Greg Abbott has bussed hundreds of thousands of asylum seekers across the United States. The City of Chicago has received the third-most asylum seekers of all major cities in the country, behind New York City and Denver, with nearly 39,000 new arrivals arriving in the City," it added at the time.

"The City of Chicago, in partnership with the State of Illinois and Cook County, has worked to support new arrivals on the path to self-sufficiency by providing basic necessities including food, temporary emergency shelter, urgent medical care, education, vaccines, and case management and resettlement supports," the city also said.

As of the end of this year, the New Arrivals Mission shelter system will be phased out.

"This transition is in line with the sharp decline in migration to Chicago and our current budget realities," Johnson said in October. "We are shifting to a more cost-effective, equitable, and strategic approach that addresses homelessness for all who need support in the City of Chicago."

Johnson’s office did not immediately respond to a request for comment Tuesday by Fox News Digital.

#nunyas news

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newspaper-advertisement · 3 months ago

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Maximising Exposure: How to Book Effective Newspaper Property Ads

#ad for property #ad property #best newspaper for property ad #newspaper classified property ad #newspaper display property ads #property ad in newspaper #property ad in newspaper online #property ads #property ads in newspaper #property advertisement #property advertisements #property advertisements newspaper

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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A theatrical production based on the memoir of an ex-Hasidic transgender rabbi and activist, set to premiere in New York early next year, is scrambling to find a new home after its landlord rejected the script last week.

The landlord? The Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New York.

The production has become a casualty of a dispute between the East Village’s Connelly Theater, which had long staged provocative works, and the archdiocese, which owns the venue. The archdiocese has recently placed the theater under increased scrutiny, exercising a clause that gives it approval of plays shown at its property. The Catholic school that serves as the go-between between the church and the theater said it is “suspending all operations of its theater,” The New York Times reported.

Abby Stein, author of the 2019 memoir “Becoming Eve: My Journey from Ultra-Orthodox Rabbi to Transgender Woman,” was alerted last Wednesday that the adaptation of her book would no longer be permitted at the Connelly Theater.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Stein said in an interview. “I’m not going to come up and pretend, ‘Oh my God, the Catholic Church doesn’t like trans people, I’m shocked.’ I wouldn’t say that. I think we all know that. It’s just extremely frustrating that even in a place like New York, it’s still something you need to think about.”

She added, “It feels like we’re taking one step forward, two steps back. This shouldn’t be something we’re still worried about.”

Josh Luxenberg, the Off Broadway theater’s general manager for the past 10 years, resigned last Friday, telling The New York Times that he was reluctant to serve as a “censor rather than an advocate of artistic freedom.” The theater was built in the 1860s, according to its “About Us” page, which still lists Luxenburg as general manager and calls itself “a home for adventurous independent theater productions.” Its main stage theater seats 200.

The Archdiocese of New York did not respond to a request for comment. Its director of communications told the Times that the decision reflected longstanding norms about its oversight of content shared in its buildings. The archdiocese has previously required public schools renting space it owns to hold sex education instruction off-campus.

“It is the standard practice of the archdiocese that nothing should take place on church-owned property that is contrary to the teaching of the church,” Joseph Zwilling told the newspaper. “That applies as well to plays, television shows or movies being shot, music videos being recorded, or other performances.”

“Becoming Eve” tells the story of Stein’s journey as a rabbi and heir to a prominent Hasidic dynasty who left her insular community in 2012 and publicly came out as transgender in 2015. The book became a bestseller, and she became an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community and for Hasidic Jews who leave their communities. Stein is currently a part-time rabbi at the independent congregation Kolot Chayeinu in Brooklyn as well as an activist on causes including opposing Israel’s war in Gaza.

“I did not expect myself to be at the crosshairs of the Archdiocese of New York,” Stein said.

As an adaptation of Stein’s memoir, the play “centers on a conversation between Abby, her devout father and a young liberal rabbi, as they reckon with questions of gender and faith,” according to Playbill.

“Becoming Eve” is one of at least three shows booted out of the Connelly Theater by the Archdiocese. SheNYC, a summer theater festival for plays by female, nonbinary and transgender artists, said in a statement that it has also been told by the Archdiocese that it cannot use the theater next summer.

“It’s a total shock that somehow, strict conservative ideals are dictating what can happen in a NYC theater,” SheNYC posted on Instagram. “We’re heartbroken by this loss. And we’re not going to lie – this puts us in a tough spot for our 2025 season, which is also our 10-year anniversary.”

The comedy show “Jack Tucker: Comedy Standup Hour,” a solo show by comedian Zach Zucker, who is Jewish, featuring his alter-ego Jack Tucker, was in the works to transfer to the Connelly Theater in early September for a limited run following a successful turn at the SoHo Playhouse. But the archdiocese rejected the show days before it was set to begin. Zucker had to relocate and postpone the show.

In an Instagram post announcing the new dates and location, Zucker said of the Ccurch, “Why’d they do this? We’ll never know. But what I do know is that God will never stop me.”

“Becoming Eve” is written by Em Weinstein, produced by Dayna Bloom and Brian Lee, and directed by Tyne Rafaeli. It will be in previews in March and is set to premiere in April of 2025.

New York Theatre Workshop, which is producing the play, is in the process of finding an alternate venue.

“We remain fiercely committed to presenting Emil Weinstein’s compelling and singular play, Becoming Eve, in our season,” New York Theatre Workshop said in a statement. “We are profoundly disappointed by the Archdiocese’s decision and reaffirm our unwavering commitment to produce this powerful story. We are in talks with a new venue and look forward to sharing the details very soon. We are proud to produce this compelling story and to champion its artists and ethos.”

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foodandfolklore · 6 months ago

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Tools and Ingredients to keep on hand; Kitchen Witchcraft Elevated Pt. 2

Alright time for Part 2, Ingredients! Again, this is my person preference, and it's like my third time trying to write this out so bear with me. These are things I tend to keep on hand, and this list is not going to just include Salt, Pepper, Garlic; You got that already. I hope. If you're looking for info on Tools, check out Part 1. Onions: I keep a bowl of onions on one of my shelves in my kitchen. I find they keep better outside of the fridge, and I can easily see when I'm running low. Onions have strong protective and good cleansing properties so I tend to add them to my pot or pan before adding any other food. I also like to let them caramelize to get that transformative element.

Lemons: Lemons are great to use in so many dishes, both sweet and savory. You can zest the peel for it's oils and fragrance. You can squeeze the lemon for it's juice and acid. They're associated with beauty, longevity, positivity, mental clarity, cleansing; ect. One of the great things about lemons is thanks to their peel, you can leave them out at room temperature for long periods of time, so long at the peel is unbroken. So if you need to make space in your fridge, pull out your lemons.

Cinnamon Sticks: Okay so every witch has ground cinnamon. It's one of the easiest and cheapest spices to get. It's in every beginner box of witchy herbs. And it that's because it's absolutely fantastic to use. The problem with cooking, however, ground cinnamon isn't always the best option. The power is very fine, but also gritty. So it can be hard to strain out if you are just wanting to infuse some cinnamon. It's why I keep sticks on hand. They're also great for seasonal garlands and bundles.

Italian Seasoning: Rosemary, Thyme, Basil and Oregano. That is what's in Italian seasoning. Do I have these seasonings separate? Yes I do. And there are other seasonings in there like Marjoram, Summer Savory, Sage, Parsley; it varies a little from brand to brand. But if I'm in a rush, I can grab that Italian seasoning to make my food tasty and include one (or all) of the spice correlation properties. Quick note; if you're buying yours, check the ingredients. It should list what spices it's using. I bought a big thing of "Italliano" once without checking and my food was just not emotionally the same. I checked the ingredients and is was mostly dried bell peppers and salt.

Cayenne: It's cheap, spicy, and banishes bad shit. That's all I ask of it.

Vinegar: This may seem odd since vinegar is largely associated with souring spells and Hexes. But it also has strong cleansing an protecting properties too. You can also use it as a preventative property to deture people from asking uncomfortable questions or bringing up touchy topics. But vinegar is also an important tool in the culinary world. A lot of the time, if you taste your food and it tastes flat or bland, even with lots of seasonings, a little acid and brighten it up. Sure you can use lemon juice, but sometime you just need a tsp, and opening a jar of vinegar is easier than juicing a lemon. Vinegar is a key component in many sauces and marinades. Not to mention being used in pickling. Then they are a lot of uses outside cooking, like help with cleaning. My MIL's favorite way to wash windows is still spray with white vinegar and wipe with newspapers.

Canned Milk: So we all keep some kind of milk in the fridge. Dairy milk, Oat milk, Almond Milk, Soy Milk, lots of wonderful kinds of milk. So why keep canned milk? Well, canned milk tends to be thicker and creamery than regular fridge milks. Yes, I can go out and get cream, but it's often cheaper and easier to just use some canned milk I have laying around. Plus, sometimes cream is too rich for what I want. The three main kinds of canned milk I keep on hand are Evaporated Milk, Sweet and Condensed Milk, and Coconut Milk. If you drink only dairy milk, I recommend keeping at lest one can of coconut milk on hand too. In case one day you find yourself cooking for someone who can't have dairy milk.

Soy Sauce: This is a great, inexpensive flavor enhancer that I add to soups, curries, and meats. I buy it in bulk, and I always get more before I run out. Because of it's dark color, and it's made from soy, it has strong protection and banishing properties for me.

Cumin: This is a weird one for me. I go through waves of using cumin and not using cumin. I'll use it for every other meal one month, then not touch it again for another month. So, to preserve it's flavor and aroma, I buy whole cumin seeds, and crush them as I need them. But I like keeping cumin on hand since many recipes online will include cumin in their spices.

And that's all I got for now. If I think of more stuff later, maybe I'll make a part 3

#food and folklore #klickwitch #witch #kitchen witch #kitchen witchcraft #pagan #food magic #magick #witchcraft #witches #kitchen magic #kitchen tips #kitchen witchcraft elevated

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rom-e-o · 2 months ago

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"Amusing" (Orin/Constance - Sneak Peek)

Why is he like this?

November, 1830

5th Avenue

New York

The sitting room of the multi-story Spiegler townhome on 5th Avenue was drenched in firelight and smelled of cinnamon potpourri, but not an ounce of merriment or cheer could be distilled from its fragrant atmosphere. Instead, the manor’s Green Drawing-Room was engorged with a heavily pregnant silence, broken only by the sound of hissing firewood slowly burning away in the hearth.

The room had earned its affectionate yet telling moniker from its décor and choice of wallpaper – a green paper of an emerald sheen with a vertical pattern of coiling ivy vines. The furniture was also smocked in thick velvet, which was set primly along the sets and backs of all the room’s carved oak chairs. The drapes were a matching shade of lush green, as vibrant as the full leaves of an oleander. Even the hooked rug that was spread across the buttery walnut floor stole inspiration from the color. The pattern highlighted two adult swans afloat on a sea of white, both angelic creatures wreathed in pink roses and intertwined laurels.

One chair, which was completely upholstered and adorned with gold tassels for added comfort, was occupied. Its resident for the evening was Orin Spiegler, the master of the manor, who reclined back in the fabric’s rich confines. In one hand, his held open a folded edition of the evening paper. In the other, he lightly swirled a short glass of honey-brown scotch. With his dressing gown synched tightly about his waist and his white ruffled collar fluffing outward from between the lapels, he looked more like a peacock than the esteemed, Dutch-American investor and businessman the local newspapers now described. The man had made a name for himself with his Wall Street trading strategies, and his smart investments in cheap buildings on the outskirts of the New York city limits, mostly along the waning avenues beyond Albany. As the city grew, the properties quadrupled in value annually, or sometimes even monthly. He was a certified millionaire, and his coffers were expanding daily.

It was a good start, he thought, but not yet enough for comfort. Not for him.

Most recently, Mr. Spiegler had commanded his financial agents to also bring his investment opportunities for the multitude of bigger and better steamboats being developed for traveling the Hudson. Much had changed with designer Robert Fulton had said the inaugural vessel in 1807, and as New York continued its sprawl up and down the river, he intended to make sure he was one of the many investors that would reap a benefit from the new technology. Besides, not just New Yorkers benefited from the technology. Every traveler from Philadelphia, Greenwich or Vermont would be in his metaphorical debt. Hell, even Londoners and Danes were utilizing the vessels for visits to the quickly growing city.

On a settee just opposite the fireplace was another lonely individual. This woman, donned in a striking green dress with lace the color of American buttercream, was the lovely and copper-headed Mrs. Spiegler.

Unlike her husband, her focus was trained reading and rereading her own written words. Quill in hand, she carefully penned invitations on solid white paper, the corners of the expensive parchment adorned with a flourishing ‘OS’ in evergreen ink.

Orin glanced over to observe his wife at work, noting her upright rectitude with a satisfied arch of his brown. “And what, pray tell, has captured your focus so keenly?”

Starting slightly at his interruption, Constance turned to meet his gaze, then quickly recovered and smiled. “Oh. I was penning the invitations for that party we were discussing earlier. The one to showcase our new music room. You still wanted to host a gathering, didn’t you, dear?”

“Ah, yes,” he said, satisfied with her answer. “Who are you planning on inviting? I don’t believe we finalized any guest list.”

“We did not,” she admitted, moistening her lips, “But I believe you’ll be satisfied. I’m sending summons to the Van Rensselaers up river, as well as the Livingstons and the Schuylers, of course.”

“Very good.” The Van Rensselaers, Schuylers, and Livingstons were all prominent families of Dutch ancestry, and longstanding patroons with sprawling tenant farms along the Hudson River. The last Orin has heard, Rensselaerwyck had reached a million acres in size, and was home to at least 200 farmer families. Some farmers were German, others were Irish, and some were ‘Yankees’ of no other known pedigree. While there was slight variance between the farmers, they shared the collective burden of toiling the land of their master, paying monthly rent as a share of crops to the Lord of the Manor.

“I suspect we’ll have no trouble getting them to come to the city, Constance said. “The last time we hosted, they adored our home.”

“They were excited to escape their tenants for a night or two, I presume.”

The tenant farmers were becoming rambunctious, and there were murmurings of a rebellion on the horizon. Slavery has been officially abolished in New York in 1827, and now, eyes were turned to the patroons and their tenant farmers.

What had these patroons expected, he wondered? To carry on forever with locking families into generation of servitude while Yankees and abolitionists just conveniently ignored them? Orin had seen the writing on the wall for years, and as the Anti-Rent movement began to grow, he only felt vindication.

The old money has-beens would be out the door in a few decades of new marriages. Perhaps some would even move out West, to a land of burgeoning opportunity.

In the meantime, he reasoned, it certainly didn’t hurt to rub elbows with his fellow countrymen. The task was made all the easier by how charming Constance was when it came to hosting and party-planning.

“Shall I … invite the Patersons, Orin?” Constance inquired with a tilt of the head.

He hummed in though, sipping his drink elegantly.

Stephen Van Rensselaer III was the current Lord of the Manor at Renssalaerwyck. He had previously married Margarita "Peggy" Schuyler, who had passed early in 1801. After the customary one year of morning for a gentleman, he married Cornelia Bell Paterson, child of statesman William Paterson. Orin knew little of the man and his legacy, other than he was a jurist and one of the men who had signed the United States Constitution.

He was also an Irishman turned American who mostly fancied New Jersey, so Orin mostly wrote him off.

“Invite Mr. and Mrs. Van Renssalaer, of course,” he said, “That’s all. Our manor isn’t so large that we can invite every admirer we have. Yet.”

“Yes.” She scrawled a note down.

The horrible complexity of the family trees was another reason he was glad to only know these sprawling families by association. He so loathed the idea of being tethered to large, overbearing legacies. Too much family was a curs eon one’s patience and time, he thought. Too many mouths to feed.

“I’m also extending an invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Van Cortlandt.”

Among the Van Cortlandt family tree were also members of the Van Rensselaer family, Schuyler family, and Livingston family. They also had ties to Philipse family, the De Peyster family, and the Irish-born and -bred Gage family.

Also spotted along their impressive family tree were relations to the Jay family. One of its many heirs, John Jay, had gone on to become the first Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and one of the country’s ‘Founding Fathers.’

When holding a soiree, it was necessary to invite all the influential families, for to insult one was to insult all of them.

“Very good,” Orin said, pleased with his wife’s attention to detail. “You were correct, my dear. I am more than satisfied with your diligence.”

It was no surprise that Constance was so aware of New York’s finest political families. After all, she was a DoGoode. While only one generation deep, the family had set the bar for new money intrigue in New York. Arthur DoGoode, Constance’s father, had started life as a mute bookkeeper but had quickly risen through the ranks as a sensible businessman. His body was frail, but his intelligence was so keen that he didn’t need spoken words to seal deals. Like Orin, he was a property investor, but Orin would never admit that it was Arthur’s business strategies that inspired his own investment patterns. Theresea, Constance’s mother, had moved to New York from Marrakech.

In 1777, Morocco had been one of the first states to recognize the sovereignty of a newly independent United States. That independence from European pressures was something Theresea admired. She had seen France, Spain and Germany all encroach on her country, eyeing the land with salivating mouths and greedy eyes. So, with a heavy heart, she left the city of Marrakech for New York.

She and Arthur had met at a business convention in Albany, where the doorman had barred her from entering. Woman were not allowed in the hall, they’d said, unless accompanied by a proper chaperone. Theresea had debated the man into a state of near emotional breakdown when Arthur had spotted her.

He asked her to be his voice at the meetings – his ‘interpreter’, so to speak. Arthur penned the business strategies, and Theresea gave the pitches to rooms of investors, bankers, financial agents, and more.

The two were married a year later. It had been a union of love, not political gambit, for they were two nobodies in a sea of millions. That, however, changed quickly. New York was growing, and Arthur invested in fringe properties to develop safehouses for women and orphanages for children.

Later that same year, they even adopted a two-year-old child that has been left at the Albany orphanage the two were on the Board of Directors for. A little red-headed girl too taciturn and terrified to speak.

Now, that girl was a woman, and also his wife.

Constance penned a few more notes while they spoke. “Darling, but also had a mind to invite Martin, if you think he could spare the time. It’s been so long.”

“Ah, Martin!” Orin cried, laughing at the mention of the man’s name. “Why, that is a capital idea!” He snapped and pointed a commanding finger at her. “Write him at once. Set the party’s date for December 22 as well. That will give our guests time to travel, but with ample courtesy for any Christmastime plans.”

Martin Van Buren, another New Yorker of fine Dutch stock, was someone Orin knew by association. They’d attended a small myriad of soirees together in the past year as Orin’s infamy had earned him. There were rumblings that Andrew Jackson was planning to support him for the next presidential election.

If elected, the Dutch colonies of New York would surely endorse him and throw any and all support his way to guarantee victory. He imagined the gaiety that such an election result would cause, and wondered how the anti-renters would take such a victory.

Only time could tell, he supposed.

He polished the glass of scotch with a final swig, wiping his mouth and setting the glass aside on a marbled end table.

“I’m going to my study,” he said, gesturing to the hallway beyond the door.

“Oh. More work?” Constance asked, brows furrowing. Here eyes drifted from his face to the empty drinking glass.

“Not precisely.”

Orin’s study was located at the top of a turret that adorned the front of their townhome. The addition made their luxurious home stand out even more amidst the other rowhouses that lined the stylish thoroughfare through the city. It’s large windows also faced the street, providing him a clean visual of the street’s traffic, potential callers, etcetera.

As he rose and walked past her, he laid a large hand on her shoulder. The contact froze her thoughts, her quill stilling mod-word against the parchment.

“You’ve pleased me tonight,” he noted in a caramel-sweet tone. “I’ll leave you be for the rest of the evening.”

He then walked to the door, glimpsing at the grandfather clock as he did so. A quarter past ten, the hands read.

“I’ll slumber on my day bed in my study,” he said, voice returning to the cool formality she’d come to expect. “I depart for the Catskills at dawn. There is a new steamboat making its maiden voyage. The SS Juno. As one of the primary investors, it is expected that I be there. I wouldn’t wish to disturb you by stirring so early. Heaven knows you’re clumsy enough in the mornings when we have nowhere to go, and I wouldn’t wish to be late because of you prattling about.”

Still enthused by the fact that they wouldn’t be sharing a bed that night, his insults went unnoticed. Instead, she disguised her relief with a thankful smile. “I’ll see that coffee is ready for you.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Otherwise, you’re dismissed. Spend the rest of your night as you’d like. Just make sure those invitations are written and postmarked tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Good woman.”

Just as he was about to pass through the door, he paused again. “A moment. Come here, please. And bring me one of the candles.”

Smoothing her skirts, she rose and drifted across the room to meet him.

She grabbed a chinoiserie candle holder containing one green, swirled tapered candle and lofted it to her eyes. She crossed the room and extended the holder carefully to him, being mindful of the flame. Orin accepted the offering, and before she could move away, reached out with his other hand to grab her wrist. He jerked her into a sudden kiss, smirking as he felt her heart roar to life beneath her heavy bosom.

Just as he felt her lean into him, seeking warmth or perhaps a passionate embrace, he nudged her back and away. As always, she obeyed.

“You’re relieved to not share a bed with me, but you still turn into a simpering little maiden with just one kiss? How amusing.”

He left her with a smirk, his dark eyes flashing with the swish of his head as he turned on his heel. “I’ll return in three days. Have the house ready in anticipation of my return. I’ll want to supper immediately.”

The heavy oak door shut before she had time to formulate a reply. She stood frozen, her lips still warmed from his kiss, her rouge slightly smeared from the sudden brush. Trembling fingers caressed the flesh before she sighed, hands falling heavy at her sides.

Even after years of marriage, she didn’t understand her husband at all. He’d never acted so unpredictable during their courtship. Why in the world did he conduct himself in such a way around her? Had she done something wrong?

Alone in the drawing room, she took it upon herself to close the curtains and set the shutters as best she could. It was work mostly suited for a strong footman, but she tried her best to make any work a little easier. Besides, the light work kept her hands and mind busy, and helped siphon out the anxious little ball of energy that had started buzzing in her chest at Orin’s words.

Had she … really been so apparent with her distaste? No wonder he was cross with her, the woman concluded. She’d offended him – her own husband. What a sorry excuse for a wife she was.

In her frustration, she grabbed the poker and stabbed it into the hearth. The fire-laden log crumbled with a hiss, and cinders as large as red flies flew into the air. She jumped back in surprise, dropping the poker and shrinking away from the flames. Her skirts knocked over a chair as she did so. The large piece of furniture lay on its side and cast a menacing shadow across the expanse of the room. It’s sharp angles and points flickered menacingly against the wallpaper with every dance of the flames.

Embarrassed at her incompetence, Constance rushed to the bellpull and gave it a brisk tug. Minutes later, she was greeted at the door by a young butler and young maid, both employed by the couple. The two were siblings – Mary and Micah. Two intelligent, quick-witted souls fresh off the boat from the Fenlands.

“We heard a crash!” the young maid said, breathless from how quickly she’d come running.

Micah looked the frazzled redhead up and down. His knowing eyes peered from beneath a shag of sandy hair. “Are you well, Mrs. Spiegler?”

His tone was practically conspiratorial.

“Please extinguish the fire,” Constance said, disregarding Mary’s question with a flustered wave of the hand. She then allowed her eyes to fall against her trembling calm as she gathered her wits. “A-And if you could check my work on fastening the windows, Micah, I would be most thankful. You are much stronger, and less clumsy, than I.”

The maid curtseyed and obeyed the lady’s commands, while the butler made a beeline for the windows. “Yes, your ladyship.”

Just as he went to straighten the toppled chair and retrieved the empty drinking glass, Constance left the room and made her way quickly up the stairs and to the main bedroom. She took the stairs quickly, her kid slippers soundless as they fell frantically against the plush rugs of the hall.

Mary hastily finished her work at the fireplace and trailed after her mistress, making sure to grab the abandoned letters on her way out.

I'm sure they'll work everything out.

#oc constance dogoode #oc orin spiegler #spielgoode

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nrcnewspaperclub · 10 months ago

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Welcome To Our Club!

this serves as a Masterlist for the blog and will be updated as time goes on last Updated: October 29, 2024

Introduction

This blog is run by the members of the NRC Newspaper Club. Each post will have tags that mark down the club member that answers them and the asker’s name/emoji(s) Current members: 🪞, 🪸, 🪶 Current readers: 🍋, Atlas, 🥀, voidlesslove, 🐦‍⬛✨, 🌿 mod, 🐚 mod, 🪼, 💛⭐️, 🕷️, info anon, 🐇, 🪻, 🍒, Floyd Leech, Yuu, 🍊, 🟦, catfish, 🍄, Mono, Lost anon, gardening club, 🐾, 🎲, Ignihyde Splatoon Anon, Ignihyde Translator, 🎤, 🪡, ⚔️, 🦖, 🍭🕷️, 🐍❤️, 💫, 🦇❤️, 🐇🃏

Rules

1. Homophobia, transphobia, ableism, racism, sexism, etc. will not be tolerated here 2. We do not care if you do or do not name the people in your asks, just please try not to directly involve us in your business 3. Please, do not badmouth the Mostro Lounge (we can’t afford a defamation lawsuit or anything of the sort) 4. confidentiality is important to us! do not expose/doxx any of your fellow readers please and thank you 5. if possible, please reblog our posts. It helps the blog stay alive 6. no nsfw or general thirstiness. //It makes me feel somewhat nauseous and I will most likely not answer it. I have been pretty lenient on it before, but I don’t want to see it anymore.//

Extra Tags

//lore drop// - explaining things about the club members //ooc - out of character post. any ooc messages within a post shall follow this format: //canon character interactions are allowed//. Ooc messages in the tags will follow this format: //ooc: just make sure to sign with their name/emoji(s)// Old Lore - posts that no longer align with the current canon New Lore - posts that do align with the current canon [reader: anonymous] - any unmarked/unnamed askers

Need to Catch Up?

🪸 vs 🐚 - the fight between NRC Confessions’ 🐚 mod and NRC Newspaper Club’s reporter 🪸 club room spider saga - that time a spider, identified as info anon’s “birdie”, broke into the club room and the events that followed afterwards the cursed cooking of lilia vanrouge - 🪞 dramatically lamenting their vice housewarden’s cooking skills (or lack thereof) interview the mods - A 100 follower celebration! readers are allowed to ask questions about the mods from the provided list, which they will answer (//in character unless stated otherwise//) status: ended 🟢 or 🚩- Nerei(🪸) decides whether your crush is a red flag or a green light reblog from (insert name) - used to filter who we’ve reblogged a post from. This includes: nrc confessions, Styx health & safety, ourselves, micah del ray, ace trappola, and many others!

The Mods’s (and other mentionable people) profiles can be found [to be added]

The NRC Newspaper Club is in no way responsible for any injuries*, illnesses, property damages, etc. the readers may experience and/or cause

*including collarings from Riddle Rosehearts’ Unique Magic, Off With Your Head

#nrc newspaper club #masterlist #twst rp #twst oc rp

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blueiscoool · 2 years ago

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Who Buried the $10M in Rare Gold Coins Found by a California Couple?

What they found, where it's from—and what are the odds?

The dream of discovering buried treasure came true for a California couple who found a real pot of gold while walking their dog. The largest such hoard ever found in the U.S. is comprised of 1,411 gold coins, minted between 1847 and 1894, worth an estimated $10 million in today's market.

The coins are now known as the Saddle Ridge Hoard, after a feature on the couple's property. Both the location of the land and the couple's identity are being kept secret.

According to an interview given to the coin company that will market the hoard, the discovery was made on a path they had used for years. Spotting the side of a rusted can barely emerging from a hillside, they dug it out with a stick and carried it home. Subsequent trips to the site turned up several more treasure-filled cans.

Most of the coins are $20 gold pieces, known as double eagles. All of those were made at the San Francisco mint, founded in 1854 to process the nuggets that prospectors were finding in the newly discovered California gold fields.

But at least one of the coins came from a much earlier bonanza—a $5 piece known as a Dahlonega half eagle.

That's Dahlonega, Georgia.

East Coast Gold Rushes

"Before the California gold rush, there were discoveries [of gold] in North Carolina and Georgia in the early 1800s—not on the same scale, of course, but enough to cause rushes to those places," said Douglas Mudd, the director and curator of the American Numismatic Association's Money Museum, in a phone interview.

"The U.S. government then opened two mints—one in Charlotte and the other in Dahlonega," he explained. Before that time, the mint in Philadelphia was the country's only such facility, established in 1792 when the city was the national capital.

At the start of the U.S. Civil War, the Confederate government took over the mints in North Carolina and Georgia. But by then, the East Coast gold had mostly played out, and the mints closed after the end of the war.

Mint Condition

Aside from sheer quantity, one of the extraordinary features of the Saddle Ridge Hoard is the condition of the coins. "They are in very good shape—they don't show a whole lot of wear," says Mudd. "Some of them probably haven't circulated at all."

About a dozen of the coins, in fact, are among the best surviving examples of their kind.

Condition affects the value of a coin, as does rarity. In 1860, for example, San Francisco produced more gold double eagles than it did in 1866, so coins from the latter year have added value. One of the finest double eagles from the Saddle Ridge Hoard, minted in 1866, has an estimated value of $1 million.

List of Suspects

Based on the dates of the coins and the cans they were found in, experts believe that the hoard may have been buried over a span of time, but surely not after the early years of the 20th century.

The hoard's face value is $28,000. "That was a lot of money in the late 1800s," says Mudd. "A huge amount."

Who would have left a fortune in the ground and not returned to claim it?

A prospector who wanted to protect his stash? Not likely. "There were still a few people panning for gold in the 1890s," says Mudd, "but by then companies were doing most of the mining."

An outlaw trying to hide the coins while on the lam? Perhaps.

Someone extremely wealthy, eccentric, and distrustful of banks? Another possibility.

A researcher with the time and interest, who knows the location of the find, might uncover an answer. Property records would record the owner of the land in the late 1800s, says Mudd. That might be one clue. And a search through newspapers of the time could turn up a report of money gone missing. There might even have been a local tradition of buried treasure recorded somewhere.

What Are the Odds?

Could another lucky person strike gold like this, somewhere in the U.S., in the future? Not very likely.

"You get a lot of hoards in Europe—coins buried for hundreds or thousands of years," says Mudd, "but they're less common in the U.S. Our history isn't that long, and for most of the time we've had banks, so people have tended to put their money there."

The occasional cache of Spanish pieces of eight comes to light in the Southwest. Or a modest collection of colonial coins is uncovered. Finding "60, 70, 200 coins—yes," says Mudd. "1,400? That's exceptional."

There are exceptions.

In 1985, construction workers in Jackson, Tennessee, unearthed 300 gold coins in almost mint condition. The workers quickly took them to banks for cash, traded them for jewelry, and in one case even exchanged some for a used car. A book called Gold Is the Key, published in 2012, makes the case that the coins are linked to a local bank robbery and murder in 1859.

Most discoveries wouldn't have such a dramatic backstory, and are rare occurrences anyway. Still, people who sweep metal detectors over fields as a hobby, and backyard dog walkers casually kicking up a bit of dirt, can always hope for a lucky strike.

BYA. R. WILLIAMS

#California Couple Finds $10M in Gold Coins #Who Buried the $10M in Rare Gold Coins Found by a California Couple?#The Saddle Ridge Hoard #treasure #gold #gold coins #rare gold coins #collectable coins #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #long reads

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ausetkmt · 1 year ago

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Top 26 Assata Shakur Quotes: Wars, Government and People

Assata Olugbala Shakur is a former member of the Black Liberation Army (BLA), who was convicted of being an accomplice in the first-degree murder of State Trooper Werner Foerster. She has been on the FBI Most Wanted Terrorist list since 2013 as Joanne Deborah Chesimard and was the first woman to be added to this list. Check out some of the top Assata Shakur quotes here.

26 Assata Shakur Quotes That Took the World by the Storm

Assata Shaku Quotes on People

#1. “The only ones who can free us are ourselves.” — Assata Shakur

#2. “At this time, I’d like to say a few words, especially to my sisters. Black people will never be free unless black women participate in every aspect of our struggle, on every level of our struggle.” — Assata Shakur

#3. “Nobody in the world, nobody in history, has ever gotten their freedom by appealing to the moral sense of the people who were oppressing them.” — Assata Shakur

#4. “People get used to anything. The less you think about your oppression, the more your tolerance for it grows. After a while, people just think oppression is the normal state of things. But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.” — Assata Shakur

#5. “We had to learn that we’re beautiful. We had to relearn something forcefully taken from us. We had to learn about Black power. People have power if we unite. We learned the importance of coming together and being active.” — Assata Shakur

#6. “When you go through all your life processing and abusing your hair so it will look like the hair of another race of people then you are making a statement and the statement is clear.” — Assata Shakur

#7. “In the long run, the people are our only appeal. The only ones who can free us are ourselves.” — Assata Shakur

#8. “The more you understand what you’re dealing with, the stronger you get. People see fear as a bad thing. Fear is healthy when you’re dealing with Amerika. But when fear controls you, when you’re afraid to struggle, fear is a bad thing. I’m more afraid of what will happen if I don’t struggle, than what will happen if I do.” — Assata Shakur

#9. “People are tried and convicted in the newspapers and on television before they ever see a courtroom.” — Assata Shakur

#10. “I think that the movement against the World Bank, against the globalization process that is happening, is very positive. We need globalization, a globalization of people who are committed to social justice, to economic justice. We need a globalization of people who are committed to saving this earth, to making sure that the water is drinkable, that the air is breathable.” — Assata Shakur

#11. “People are really beginning to see the mechanisms of imperialism. When colonialism existed people could see colonialism. When racial segregation existed in its apartheid form, people could see the whites only signs. But it’s much more difficult to see the structures of neo-imperialism, neo-colonialism, neo-slavery.” — Assata Shakur

Assata Shakur Quotes on War

#12. “I hate war, and I hate having to struggle. I honestly do because I wish I had been born into a world where it was unnecessary. This context of struggle and being a warrior and being a struggler has been forced on me by oppression. Otherwise, I would be a sculptor, or a gardener, carpenter. You know, I would be free to be so much more. I guess part of me or a part of who I am, a part of what I do is being a warrior – a reluctant warrior, a reluctant struggler. But I do it, because I’m committed to life.” — Assata Shakur

#13. “I think that the greatest betrayal that a revolutionary can participate in is to become like the people you are struggling against. To become like your persecutors. I think that is a betrayal and a sin.” — Assata Shakur

#14. “I have declared war on the rich who prosper on our poverty, the politicians who lie to us with smiling faces, and all the mindless, heartless, robots who protect them and their property.” — Assata Shakur

#15. “Freedom! You asking me about freedom. I’ll be honest with you. I know a whole more about what freedom isn’t than about what it is, ’cause I’ve never been free. I can only share my vision with you of the future, about what freedom is.” — Assata Shakur

#16. “If you’re deaf, dumb, and blind to what’s happening in the world, you’re under no obligation to do anything. But if you know what’s happening and you don’t do anything but sit on your ass, then you’re nothing but a punk.” — Assata Shakur

#17. “My experience in the United States was living in a society that was very much at war with itself, that was very alienated. People felt not part of a community, but like isolated units that were afraid of interaction, of contact, that were lonely.” — Assata Shakur

#18. “I think that in order to struggle you have to be creative. In my life, creativity has been something that has sustained me; it awoke my spiritual struggle.” — Assata Shakur

#19. “It is our duty to fight for our freedom. It is our duty to win. We must love each other and support each other. We have nothing to lose but our chains.” — Assata Shakur

#20. “The methods of peaceful protests are not capable of being effective, because in reality most people pay little attention to things that are not abrasive.” — Assata Shakur

Assata Shakur Quotes on Government

#21. “I had to adjust to living in a Third World country, which means that things people in the U.S. take for granted-like hot running water whenever you turn on the tap-are not always available.” — Assata Shakur

#22. “I couldn’t see how we could seriously struggle without having a strong sense of collectivity, without being responsible FOR each other and TO each other.” — Assata Shakur

#23. “I found that people had all kinds of levels of consciousness, all kinds of levels of education, but that Cubans in general were very educated politically. I could go sit in a bus and get into a conversation with someone and that person had a wealth of knowledge. And energy!” — Assata Shakur

#24. “I believe in self-defense and self-determination for Africans and other oppressed people in America.” — Assata Shakur

#25. “Black revolutionaries do not drop from the moon. We are created by our conditions. Shaped by our oppression.” — Assata Shakur

#26. “Are you ready to sacrifice to end world hunger? To sacrifice to end colonialism? To end neocolonialism? To end racism? To end sexism?” — Assata Shakur

Conclusion

Assata Shakur holds a reputation as a militant activist and supporter of the Black Lives Movement. She is a household figure in fighting the wave of sexism and racism. Her words inspire millions today.

#Assata Shakur #Black Revolution #Black Revolutionaries #Black August 2023 #Black August

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