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americasass81 · 4 years ago

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Make Her Mine - Chapter Four

{Warning: 18+, Dark theme, Non-Con, Violence, Mention of Breeding, Swearing, Smut}

Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason.

A/N: Getting a bit darker here, this is also the first chapter with major smut so please be kind. Not to spoil it, but I’ve always wondered about the various things a certain item could be used for and have put that imagination to use a bit here. Hope you all enjoy it.

Word Count:- 3,117

Waking up with a mild headache, you looked around confused at your current location. Slowly as you checked yourself for injuries, the memory of Tony Stark walking into your hotel room came flooding back and you found your heart beating faster. While wondering what the sick fuck was up to, you at least calmed down a bit when you realized you and your clothes seemed to be intact. Foolishly looking around for your getaway bag, though you didn't expect to find it, you instead moved to the door to find it unlocked.

Poking your head outside and seeing nothing but a hallway with various doors, you quickly closed it and went to check out your surroundings. Survival 101 dictated that you first look for anything to use as a weapon before checking any and all means of escape. Entering through the only other available door, you were greeted by a reasonable bathroom that, while well furnished, held nothing of use but a roll of paper, a bar of soap and a washcloth. The window you noted was actually built into the ceiling with no possible way for you to reach it, so to save time, you abandoned this room in favor of the bedroom.

Quickly and quietly as possible, a thorough search here resulted in the same lack of viable options with a duplicate overhead window providing a glorious view of the clear blue sky you were currently a prisoner from. Taking a moment to think through the alternatives, and suspecting that Tony may have picked this place for a reason, you quickly got out of your head and made your way back to the bedroom door. Seeing a set of double doors at the end of the hall on your right, you assumed this was the master bedroom and so headed to the left. Had you taken the time, the two doors opposite yours would have revealed another bedroom and the main bathroom. As it was, the archway now in front of you opened up into a spacious kitchen and living room, with two doors, one of which you hoped led to freedom.

*************

Reaching for one, you stopped cold when you heard a dark chuckle behind you. Turning slowly, you pressed your back to the door when you saw Tony standing before you with a cup of coffee and a sinister smile.

"Good morning, darling. I see you've been exploring." As if by magic, a screen appeared showing your recent scavenger hunt through your rooms. Reaching for the door again while staring at him, Tony moved quicker than you thought possible and caged you between his powerful arms before bringing his lips to your ear. "Both those doors are locked Y/N, this time you're not going anywhere." With that a gloved hand came to rest just above your left breast where you felt a quick, sharp pick. Moving your top aside, you thought you saw movement under the skin before your eyes shot up to meet Tony's.

"Mr. Stark, what did you do?"

"Nanoparticles." he simply replied, stepping back to release you.

"Na-Nanoparticles?"

Taping the housing unit on his chest, you watched as a liquid-like material spread out over his body before becoming his suit of armor. The real horror hit you however, when you felt a mild pulse around the injection site. Placing your hand over the area, your eyes widened when another screen popped up with your employee picture and an unbelievable amount of information.

"Now thanks to my little friends, I not only know everything about you, but I can also track you anywhere. You will never be able to hide from me again." Seeing the realization dawn on your face, Tony flashed you his usual smirk before continuing. "They also tell me nifty little bits about what your body is up to. Which means right about now is when you might want to calm down." he said, concern clouding his features as he looked at the numbers on the screen.

"Calm down? How the fuck do you expect me to calm down? Not only have you kidnapped me, but you've just injected me with god-knows-what type of technology that allows you to track me and . . ." Beginning to have trouble breathing and feeling light-headed, anything else you wanted to say was cut off as you slid down the door.

Tony was back by your side in a split second and picking you up, sat both of you on the couch and held you as your breathing slowly returned to normal. "Feeling better darling? I tried to warn you."

Glaring at him now that you had calmed down, you tried to free yourself from his arms but his grip held firm. Resigning yourself to the fact that you were stuck, you looked at him and voiced another question on your mind. "Have you thought about what you're going to do when Miss Potts finds out what you've done? Not to mention the fact that I have pretty powerful friends."

"Ah Miss Potts? You know I just love the way company gossip has even reached the Accounting Department. Pepper and I have never, nor will ever be an item. Besides, I'd have thought office gossip was beneath you?" he questioned, arching a perfect eyebrow at you.

"Just because I never took any active part in it doesn't make me deaf or dumb. I still heard things." you pointed out while testing the hold he had on you.

"Fair point, my darling. As for your friends however . . . boy, that Sabrina is something else. Actually threatened the Avengers, she did. Still I dealt with her and her husband."

Fear and dread clutched at your heart like nothing you had ever felt before and it felt like Tony had physically stabbed you. Remembering your boxing and long ago self-defense classes, you head-butted him as hard as you could and used his confused state to scramble away. You only made it halfway between the two rooms however, when a sharp pain in your chest caused you to collapse on the floor.

Curled up and hugging yourself as the aftershocks slowly subsided, Tony reached out to soothe you as he knelt by your side. "Now why did you make me do that, darling? I never wanted you to find out what else those nanoparticles could do. Shush now, let me take care of you." Trying to move away from him, you couldn't help the tears from falling as you thought about what he had done to your friends or what he had planned for you.

*************

Picking you up eventually, this time he walked back to your room and placed you gently on the bed. Forcing yourself to look at him, you wiped away the tears as you found your voice. "What did you do to my friends?"

"Nothing, I promise. If possible, I can do without a war against the New York Mob. I don't know how much you know about your friend, but he can be quite ruthless. No, I simply created a false trail that has you currently being treated at a facility in Denmark."

"What's so special about Denmark? Surely you could have picked somewhere in the States?"

"I could have," he agreed, "but I figured there's less chance of them getting on a plane to visit you in Denmark."

"And the nanoparticles? What happened out there and what else can they do?"

"Aw Darling, I'd rather not answer that." he said, reaching out to move a stray strand of hair while you flinched back from him. Sighing deeply, his hand fell by his side as he gave in. "What happened in the other room was a minor pulse emitted by the nanoparticles, it can go a lot higher. But I'd rather that not happen." he quickly added, as you scrambled further away from him. "Still they also have the ability to repair a certain amount of tissue damage, so that's a plus."

"So what you're saying is you can pretty much control me now because of those nanoparticles. What do you have planned for me?" you demanded, fearing the answer but needing to know all the same.

Looking away from you, Tony seemed to think long and hard before rising from the bed and answering. "How about we park this conversation for now. You must be hungry."

"Fuck you Stark, I'm not hungry. Tell me what your sick mind has dreamed up."

"Y/N, we had this conversation back in my office." his tone indicating his patience was limited. "While I'd rather make things pleasant, I'm not above putting manners on you if I have to. Now, shall we?" he asked, holding out his hand to you.

Leaping off the bed however, you failed to make it to the door before Tony tackled you and held you down. Securing your hands above your head with more nanoparticles, he flipped you over before ripping your clothes from you. Then an unparalleled fear gripped you as he spread your legs before kneeling between them. Watching him undo his pants, you tried your best to get away from him but to no avail. Removing his cock, you stared in horror as he spit on his hand before running it up and down his length. Redoubling your efforts, all the fight died in you when he held your hips, lined himself up with your entrance and thrust into your dry pussy.

Releasing a scream that rose from the very depths of your soul, Tony was too busy using you to care, while you couldn't figure out how you didn't pass out already. "That's it darling, let it all out and scream for me. I didn't want our first time to be like this, but maybe this will teach you to be a bit more polite." he taunted, as he continued to plough into you in spite of your obvious distress.

"Tony please . . . fuck stop. It hurts so much." you cried as he pounded into you harder than you thought possible. Increasing his speed and pushing your knees forward so his hard shaft could reach deeper, you felt the coil tighten in your stomach, but before you could reach your climax Tony groaned above you as you felt him paint your walls with his seed.

Pulling out, he picked you up and placed your naked body on the bed before the nanoparticles secured your wrists to the headboard. Kissing you tenderly, he walked to the door before your cries forced him to turn around.

"Mr. Stark. Tony, you can't leave me like this. I'll do anything. You don't even need to release me, just make me come."

"No Y/N, this is what you get. I tried to be reasonable, but your attitude just won't change. So until you prove grateful for all I've given you the last three years, you can lie here and take what I give you." With that, he exited your room, leaving you naked, unsatisfied and completely at his mercy.

*************

Looking at the cameras installed throughout the property, he watched you trash about until you wore yourself out. While he hated himself for what he did, he couldn't reconcile the meek you that kept turning down his attention with the ungrateful brat before him. Even as you screamed and cried his name, you still refused to beg or apologize. He had to wonder if perhaps this situation just brought out the worst in you.

Watching you eventually drift towards an exhausted sleep, Tony was pissed to discover a missed voicemail on your phone from your friend Sabrina. It was bad enough that she couldn't give him time to convince you to be his, but upon playing the message, he discovered what she really thought about him. There and then, after phoning in a quick update on your location and condition to Mr. Stan, he decided he had to find a permanent way to keep your mob friends from you, lest they try to turn you against him. However a more important matter threatened to derail his whole plans when he discovered an email from your boss Melinda, informing him that you hadn't reported into work since Wednesday. Thankfully however, being who he was made this an easy problem to fix, though it did worry him as to whether he may have overlooked some other minor detail which might later come back to threaten the life he planned to build.

Setting aside your phone and watching you, he figured he should take his own advice and try to break you quickly so the two of you could become the couple he imagined. Making himself a quick meal, he then proceeded to deal with some urgent work stuff before checking back in with you. Seeing you finally stir, he decided to bite the bullet and see if your attitude had improved. Rising and heading to the fridge for a health smoothie which he hoped you'd drink, he headed off to your room to see if pleasure or pain was the order of the day.

Placing the glass on the bedside table, he released your hands from the bed and drew you onto his lap before bringing the glass up to your lips. "Y/N, darling, I need you to drink this. Can you do that?" Shaking your head, while unknowingly snuggling deeper into his warm body, your eyes widened in shock when you finally opened them to take in the scene before you.

"T-Tony, what the fuck? Let me go." you croaked out, trying futilely to pull away from him. He didn't let you go however, and before you could steel yourself, the nanoparticles emit the same pulse that floored you in the kitchen. This time however Tony's arm wraps around you as you hold on to steady yourself.

"Darling I'm sorry, but the sooner you learn the sooner I can actually disable that feature. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Glaring at him while nodding your head, your eyes quickly fell to the glass now held in his other hand. "Is my girl finally ready for a drink?" he asked as he followed your gaze.

"Yes." you rasped and he brought the glass to your lips as you opened your mouth to accept the liquid. Drinking a bit too quickly, he had to remind you to take it easy so you didn't choke. When you had drank it all, he lay you back on the bed before returning the glass to the table. Then in a move that had you terrified, he took off his shoes before joining you on the bed and moving between your legs.

Scrambling backwards towards the head of the bed, he quickly and easily pulled you down, before placing his hands on your hips to keep you in place. "Y/N, I just need to check there's no lasting damage done, okay? Can you let me do that."

"No, don't fucking touch me. You can't do what you've done and then act all concerned. You're a monster, plain and simple." you screamed while thrashing as best you could against his hold.

"Fine you see a monster, so be it." With that he tapped his housing unit and you watched in horror as countless nanoparticles made their way down his arm, along the sheets and settled in to secure your arms and legs to the bed. Spread wide open for him, fear filled your eyes when Tony held up his palm as a penis shaped object took form. Moving forward towards your pussy, you found your voice and finally begged.

"Tony please, whatever you're planning, don't do it. I'll behave, I promise. Just please don't put that thing in me. I thought you said those things already in me could tell you what was going on inside me "

"They do darling, but this is simply a much quicker way to check there's no damage. I promise I'll be gentle, just don't move." Then moving his hand, he lined the object up with your entrance and gently pushed it in. Checking data on a screen, but hearing you wince from how tender you still were from not being wet enough, he slowed his movement slightly before looking up at you. "Breathe darling, I know it hurts but you're doing so well. It will be over shortly."

Pushing in the final few inches, he took a few minutes to lean forward and kiss you gently before going back to the screen to see what was going on. Seemingly happy with what he saw, he looked back to you with a grin that sent fear shooting down your spine, while somehow at the same time sending heat towards your core.

Pulling his palm away from you so only a small part of the object remained, he slid it back in just as gently as before. Continuing to thrust it in and out, it didn't take long for you to start moaning beneath him. While trying to move still proved impossible, the friction he created was doing amazing things to your pussy and this only moved up another notch when he again leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your left nipple. Sucking and nibbling until your nipple was erect, he bit down gently before furnishing your right nipple with the same treatment. Getting closer and closer to your peak as his hand began moving faster, the coil in your stomach snapped and you came when Tony moved his other hand down to pinch your clit.

Reducing the thickness of the makeshift cock to make its exit easier, he couldn't hide the smirk on his face as you sighed contentedly while trying to control your breathing. "Well Darling, it's safe to say there's no permanent damage done. Now, what do you say we see about putting a mini me in you?" With that, he quickly removed his clothes, returned between your spread legs and thrust in to the hilt before you even registered what he had said. Having just come, he had no trouble this time sliding in and out of your slick pussy and it wasn't long before he had you reaching for the edge once again. With just a few more thrusts and some well timed flicks to your clit both you and Tony cried out as you came around him while his cum shot out, drowning your cervix. Collapsing on top of you, he didn't stay there long before he pulled out and drew you back against his chest after the nanoparticles released your aching limbs. Placing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder it didn't take long for both your breathing to return to normal and you fell asleep in each other's arms.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie , @hoseokchild , @ironlady1993 , @floatingdaisy7 , @taintedgenre , @buttercandy16 , sorry if I missed anyone.

#dark!tony stark x reader

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josefavomjaaga · 3 years ago

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Helfert, Joachim Murat, Chapter 6, Part 6

The prisoners were dragged to the castle, and there they were kept in dark cells until the general Nunziante, commanding in Calabria, arrived from Tropea. The intendant Alcalà took pity on Murat and sent him clothes and linen; one or two others were also active in providing the unfortunates with some assistance and refreshments. The overwhelming majority, however, remained rough and obdurate, above all the captain of the gendarmerie, who incited rather than restrained the wild mob that surrounded the prison. It was not until the evening that Captain Stratti marched into the castle with 40 men of infantry, which Nunziante had sent ahead of him, occupied it and turned the unruly thugs out. Soon the general also appeared, who ordered Murat and his officers to more respectable premises. He called the ex-king only "General" and declared that he was faithful to his rightful prince, but knew how to respect misfortune. The other prisoners, too, who had been placed in some detention in the city, now received more humane treatment; surgeons came to dress their wounds, which had hitherto not been attended to at all. Nunziate telegraphed to Naples and asked for specific instructions.

In the meantime, the news that the former king Joachim had been seized and imprisoned in the castle of Pizzo while attempting to insurgent the country had spread like wildfire in the surrounding area, and threatening mobs poured into the city on the 9th, so that Nunziante had to summon all his military severity to maintain order and send the unwelcome guests home again. The poor prisoner, who heard something of these gatherings, lulled himself into the belief that his loyal subjects would come to free him, and some of those around him, such as Franceschetti, encouraged him in this, while the others recognised only too well that their "king" had no friends or supporters willing to make sacrifices among the Calabrese.

Nunziante showed the "General Murat" every consideration permitted. He invited him to his house for breakfast and dinner, and the King's companions did not miss the fact that the Sicilian soldiers, without being told to do so, held up their rifles as often as he passed them. Nunziante allowed him to read books, including Metastasio's poetry, which Murat occasionally had read to him. The prisoner was allowed to write to his wife, to the Austrian commander in Naples, to the British envoy, and Nunziante offered to send the letters to Naples so that they could reach their addresses.

On the 12th, Colonel Robinson anchored in the Bay of Pizzo with some craft from the Sicilian flotilla. Murat expressed the wish to be taken to Tropea, but Robinson was unwilling to do so.

The first news of the events in Pizzo reached Naples on the evening of the 9th through the medium of the optical telegraph: it read vaguely that "a French general" had been arrested. It was immediately assumed that it could be none other than Joachim Murat; but when our envoy appeared before him the next day, King Ferdinand declared that he was not yet sure of his case. The news spread like lightning through the city, which was thrown into an enormous uproar. On the part of the Austrian garrison, the necessary precautions were taken in all haste but also without any commotion, which in the meantime proved to be quite unnecessary: not the slightest disorder occurred, no attempt was made at a putsch or uprising. At first it was thought at court to take the most well-known supporters of the ex-king into custody, but in the end the realisation prevailed that this could only cause a dangerous stir and make the situation more critical than it actually was. But in order not to give Murat's men time to undertake anything more serious, an express messenger was sent to deliver to General Nunziante the order concerning the treatment under martial law of him who had been seized with arms in his hand. Two days later, Ferdinand, who was neither at rest nor at ease because of the uncertainty, sent the Prince of Canosa to Calabria to bring reliable news.

The royal courier arrived in Pizzo late in the evening of the 12th and immediately arrangements were made for the composition of the court martial. It consisted of eight officers, the procurator-general of the Calabrian region beyond, Giovanni la Camera, and a secretary; the officers, with the exception of one who had come with Ferdinand IV from Sicily, had all served under Murat and had been promoted by him.

On the 13th in the morning they awaited Joachim's awakening - only the day before he had spoken of being given a custody of honour on Austrian territory! - whereupon General Nunziante entered his room and gently announced to him what awaited him. "Woe is me," exclaimed the prisoner painfully, "then I am lost: the court-martial is death!" His officers, even his valet Armand, had to leave him, they were led away into a narrow, dark dungeon; in their place Captain Stratti appeared with four Sicilian officers to announce to him that he would have to answer to the military commission. At this point, all his pride awoke: "Men like me are only accountable to God and their conscience for their actions. Not even King Ferdinand could sit in judgement over me, for I myself am a king, I have not relinquished my right and title by any act. Sovereigns have no one to judge but God and their peoples!" Thus he also spoke to Captain Starace, whom the commission appointed to defend him, and who announced it to him with the words: "I am to defend Your Majesty, and before what judges!" "They are not my judges, they are my subjects!" And then again: "They are not my judges, they are my henchmen: I forbid you to speak a word in my defence". The most insistent pleas of Stratti and Starace, who were themselves both deeply moved, that he should at least put something in writing in his defence, were to no avail. The Commission's rapporteur, Lieutenant Froio, entered and wanted to begin the interrogation with the usual questions about name, country, age, etc., but Murat cut him off: "I am Joachim Napoleon, King of the Two Sicilies. Remove yourself!"

Froio, Starace, Stratti left the room where Murat remained in the company of the four Sicilian officers. The overflow of emotions that rushed upon him made him talkative. "I would have thought Ferdinand more humane and a greater man," he said sadly; " I would not have proceeded thus with my adversary in his place!" And now he began to explain to them the failure of his last campaign, which he continually attributed only to external circumstances, and came back again and again to the fact that he had never renounced his rights as King of Naples. Then he spoke of his earlier deeds in Italy, in Egypt, in Austria, on the German, on the Spanish, on the Russian theatre of war, of his elevation to the throne of Naples and all that he had done for the country: "I came to Naples with twelve millions of my own fortune; after seven years' rule I left it with 250,000 fr. as all my possessions! I have made every conceivable sacrifice to the country; I have neglected my own interests for the good of Naples!" The emotion overwhelmed him, he burst into tears; then he regained his composure and, after a deep sigh, spoke: "I am reproached for my court management, my army; but even then I had only the prosperity of the country in mind. I have used the revenues of Naples only for its benefit, I have kept nothing for myself, I take no other riches with me when I die than my deeds. That is my glory and my consolation!" He also spoke of the darkest point in his life, the night-time scene of horror in the moat at Vincennes, and claimed that his memory was unfairly burdened with it: "King Ferdinand wants to make up for the tragedy of the Duke of Enghien, it seems, with another tragedy! I had no part in it, God is my witness before whom I shall soon stand !" Then he threw himself into his breast again: "To descend to those before whom I am to answer, too many pages would have to be wiped from the history of Europe!"

At 5 o'clock in the afternoon the sentence was passed: it was death according to Article 87 (assassination against the existing constitution and government) and 91 (incitement to civil war and armed insurrection); these were the laws of former "King Joachim" on the basis of which and according to the wording of which "General Murat" was sentenced! He still had half an hour to live. The Canonicus Masdea, high in his seventies, set himself to administer to him the last consolations of religion ; at the request of the venerable old man, Murat made the written declaration "to die as a good Christian". He then wrote to his wife: "Ma chère Caroline", commended himself to her memory, "ne m'oublie jamais!", took leave of his four children, inscribing each one by name: "I leave you behind, without kingdom and goods, in the midst of my numerous enemies. Always remain united, show yourselves greater than your misfortunes!" He gave them his fatherly blessing, his kisses, his tears: "Always remember your unhappy father!" He cut off a lock of his hair and enclosed it with the letter, which he presented to Captain Stratti unsealed: "the seal would be found in his right hand after his death". He wanted to say goodbye to his officers, the faithful comrades of his fateful journey, but was refused: "Well then, do not hesitate any longer, I am ready to suffer death!"

He only had to cross the threshold of his room and found himself in a small courtyard where twelve men were standing by. He did not suffer to be blindfolded. "Soldiers," he cried, "do not make me suffer long, the narrowness of the room itself compels you to place the muzzles of your rifles on my breast!" He stretched out his right arm with a closed fist, to which he kept his eyes fixed as the shots fell. He was dead in an instant; when his right hand was opened, a carnelian with the image of Caroline's head was found in it ... At the same time that the death sentence was carried out in the fort, General Nunziante, in full uniform, was seen leaning against the wall of an adjoining house, his face covered by his sackcloth.

Murat's body, almost torn apart by the nearby decharge, was placed in a simple coffin and quietly buried in the local church.

#joachim murat #caroline murat #murat's death #no spare the face #naples 1815 #napoleon #hundred days #burial place #helfert murat

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aitarose · 4 years ago

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OVER OUR HORIZON (T.KUROO) pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

synopsis: supposedly a guardian angel in the midst of her demons, kuroo tetsuro was her salvation, her saving joy—but in the end, she was his demise.

word count: 1.4k

genre: mob au, angst, established relationship

warnings: mentions of abuse, guns, blood, major character death

notes: this is for my bbs lina-chan and kyle. i still know little to nothing about this man, but he is a very fun time to write.

↳ DIRECTORY

Chaos erupted around them, loose bullets and noise-cancelling gunshots ringing past their ears—adrenaline rushing through their veins as Kuroo held her hand in his, pulling her away from the violence, away from the insanity that was her life.

His body shielded hers, a bullet proof vest strapped against his chest for a layer of extra protection, an insurance policy that she’d be alright. It was a way to make sure that the woman he loved would survive the attack he’d planned. The attack that he’d planned since the moment he’d met her.

Coming from the family that she’d been born into, Y/N was a clear threat amongst the average people. She had power, drive, ambition—three things that could breed a killer, a murderer amongst murderers.

And Kuroo had known this, he’d known the danger and sacrifice that would come with getting close to her. He knew the risks he was taking when he’d accepted the position as her bodyguard, the bodyguard for a mob princess.

There was no world in which he’d expected to fall in love with her. His feelings had grown strong, quickly and unpredictably. All of their little moments together, the times in which he’d sneak her out of the family dinners, into their little alcove, and kiss her while the moonlight shone from the window sill.

All of the times where he’d wrap his arms around her, hold her close as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, promise her that he’d always love her, never wanting to let her go. He was her sun, bringing warmth and empathy to her morally grey life.

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and run away together. Run away, far away from her family, from the horror that she’d faced every day as a child, teenager, and young adult.

So, he’d conducted a plan with his own agency. One in which every part would be satisfied. A plan in which her family’s business would be put to a stop, and he’d be able to shower her in love forever—live a life in absolute peace.

And with his allies neck-in-neck with hers, he dragged her away from the sight. He ran with her to their favorite place in the massive residency, a place that no one else thought to bother with, their little alcove near the stars.

“What’s happening, Tetsuro?” Y/N whispered, holding his face to hers, grimacing as he pressed light and loving kisses to the blossoms of her cheeks, the scars that graced her gorgeous glow. “What did you do?”

She was confused, expecting the night to go just as it had been planned. It was the long awaited night in which she’d take over for her father, run the business of killers herself. A night that she’d been forced to prepare for, for her entire life.

The smile on his face was concerning in her eyes, one of a madman. The infatuated gaze he wore was frightening, the genuine love that he felt overwhelming her senses, throwing her feelings into a whirlpool of self-doubt.

“I bought us time, my love.” He responded, gently caressing her beautiful features, trying his best to show her that everything was alright—that they would be alright. “I bought us time to live our lives—to live our life together.”

“You don’t deserve this life, Y/N. You don’t deserve to become a cold-blooded killer against your will.” Stepping even closer, hands on her shoulders, doing his best to ground her while they stood in the eye of the hurricane. “Run away with me—be happy with me away from all of this.”

Kissing her gently, lips lingering over hers. memorizing the velvet feeling of her touch, the pure ecstasy that came with her presence—Kuroo felt that everything would turn out right. That he was about to get his happy ending, the ending that he’d always dreamed of for the two of them.

But it wasn’t as easy as he thought.

He simply assumed that their relationship was strong enough to move mountains, that the complexity of their lives wasn’t overbearing, that it didn’t tower over Y/N, causing her to quiver in fear every day.

Yes, she loved him as much as he loved her. Her heart was swollen with all of the niceties and adoration that she held for her sworn protector. Seeing his bright, smiling face in the mornings was the one thing she could always count on—the shining sun amidst her thunder clouds.

And she’d never expected to feel such a way, to feel like her family wasn’t the most important thing in her life, to feel as if nothing mattered other than him. It was as if she orbited around his light, as if her tidal waves were settled by the rays of his moon.

He was made to show her humanity, given to her by someone higher above to teach her the meaning of loving someone with her entire heart. While Y/N’s purpose was quite different, as she was only to bring him demise.

Stepping back, rejecting his kisses and shows of love, her face became stone. Cold and unreadable as she held his own gun in her hands, the very weapon that had saved her life a countless amount of times. The very weapon that he’d sworn he would protect her with, now considered Kuroo its target.

“I love you.” Y/N confessed using the three words that she’d tell him every night when they’d lay in bed beside one another, breathless and completely secure in his bare arms. “I love you so much, more than I thought I could ever be capable of.”

Shaking his head at the craze in her eyes, Kuroo pleaded. He pleaded that she reconsider what she was doing, that she looked at it from his perspective—the perspective of happiness, the prospect that they’d be normal people. That they’d be normal people who’d get married, start a family, die from old age and not molded steel.

And with his life in her hands, his weapon between her fingers, Y/N looked at Kuroo with all of the love in her heart. She felt it expand, overcompensating for how her family mistreated her, how her life mistreated her—and did the one thing she never thought she’d do—the one thing that truly made her the monster she’d always known she’d become.

She pulled the trigger.

The sound was deafening. Every noise, gunshot, bullet on mute as she watched the love of her life crumble—as she watched him scream in agony and pure pain, clutching swollen his neck and gasping for air. However, there were no regrets on her mind, she believed that she made the right decision for herself. The decision to leave him behind.

Falling back, Kuroo was in disbelief. The faith he’d had in her completely shattered as she turned away without giving him so much as a second glance—moving past his convulsing body as if it were nothing, as if he was as worthless as her broken promises.

The pain of heartbreak wasn’t a stranger to his mind, but a misconception to the average person. It wasn’t some emotion to write love songs and make movies about—but complete and utter anguish. It was more painful than death itself.

His chest felt heavy, heaving and sighing as the blood loss became far too much. Laying there, in a pool of his own shades of red and scarlet, reality hit him harder than her family’s bullets ricocheted off of their granite walls, harder than how they burrowed themselves deep into the chests of his allies.

Her betrayal hadn’t only broken his heart, broken the trust that he thought they’d cemented together, but it’d cost him his life. The sun was finally setting over the horizon—and unfortunately for him, this time, the horizon was his.

So, as Kuroo Tetsuro took his last dying breaths, his arm stretched out, yearning to capture her fleeting love one last time—he bled out alone.

Alone and hidden from the others, hidden in his own secluded alcove that he’d first confessed his relentless feelings, his relentless love. The love that ignited the flame that had been just blown out—the flame that had been forgotten by the girl that held his heart.

And as his heartbeat slowed, collapsing into tiny fragments, a shell of what his love had once been, as did the building itself. As did the beautiful stained glass windows, the towering stone pillars, and the vaulted ceilings.

Watching as the world around him became destroyed, demolished due to the chaos he himself had evoked, he was buried beneath his own lies and lost dreams—the lost dreams that he’d had for him and Y/N.

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katsukikitten · 5 years ago

Text

Stood Up

A/N Yall thank my friend for sending me rando tumblr screencaps from well aged posts. I just was like oo good fic idea and now here it is. I finally took time to write it. ENJOY!

Unblinking eyes gaze at you in curiosity mixed heavily with pity as you gulp down your fifth complimentary water.

Fellow diners stare, watching the scene unfold with heavy hearts although it is making good dinner conversation. Your dress now constricting when it was once body con. Hugging your curved

You'd been here long enough to watch couples come and go. Families to sit and laugh all the way through coffee and dessert.

Their gazes feel heavy.

"Are you ready to order yet?" The waitress asks kindly, trying hard to keep the pity off of her face, but you know that she knows "Or perhaps more bread?"

You stare down at the third *empty* basket, you bite the inside of your lip to keep your cool. White hot rage flows through your vein competing against burning embarrassment and the tears collecting in your eyes.

The slim waitress begins to collect the empty baskets, giving you a once over. You feel the pity radiating off of her in waves.

"Just a few more minutes please." You smile politely.

"There is heavy traffic tonight." She smiles back trying to encourage you but all it does is remind you that everyone knows what's happening in this restaurant and it is just *you* who is delusional.

And you're beginning to wonder how long you can tell yourself that traffic really is to blame.

It had been well over an hour from the time agreed upon by both yourself and your supposed date. Your phone is still dry, glass staring up with no notification in sight.

Hell not even a spam email.

Biting rouged lips you dig through your purse for any sort of cash to tip the waitress who so kindly took care of you while you sat their waiting patiently like an idiot.

Stood up.

It wasnt like this was the first time. You'd been stood up before and after giving them fifteen extra minutes of time you'd text them "Dont fucking bother my guy." Before ordering yourself a delicious meal and dessert.

Happy over the result, loving the longer life.

But shit you actually LIKED this guy. It was supposed to be your third date with him. He kissed you and left you at your door step damnit!

Or maybe that should have been hint enough.

A sharp inhale to collect yourself before you pat the 10 on the table. Making sure to keep your head held high when suddenly a strong hand clamps on your shoulder. Keeping you seated.

"Hey baby." He says a little loudly, you look into glittering rubies with a begrudged almost angry look. He flashes a wide tooth smile before kissing you on your cheek. Adding, again slightly above a normal voice.

"There was a crazy accident! I left the uber and had to walk here. And you know me I can't keep my phone charged to save my life."

The chair across from you slides across dark hardwood floors before it is settled into. A wink of shining rubies as you stare with now heated eyes.

"Play along? The names Kirishima Eijiro." He winks again.

Who the fuck was this guy?

Dressed in black with a blazing red tie, black vest and matching black shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms.

Why the fuck did he sit down across from you?

And why the fuck wasn't he scared of the death glare you were giving him?

Before you can ask the waitress comes over, giving Kirishima a slight glare.

A glance of "You better be paying" and "You better buy the gorgeous lady dessert!"

It does not go unnoticed by the red head, who happily takes the blame for the delay.

Better than the latter, which was you, this stunningly beautiful woman was being stood up.

It was unmanly. Not to mention it was hurting his heart.

"Bring a bottle of..." He glances to you, giving you a once over before a smile creep along his soft lips, "Actually make it a whiskey neat and a nice rum and coke?"

"Coming right up. Do you need a few moments?" She glances over the two of you, the waitress must know how famished you were. Well he sat across from you, enduring your harshest of glares, so a little pressure wouldn't hurt.

"Eijiro, order for me please *baby*?" You purr, folding up your menu, he takes your request with stride.

Shooting in the dark and hoping for the best.

"She'll have the parm crusted chicken, side caesar salad with the dressing on the side and fries." He winks your way, a smirk slides onto your lips, "I'll have the sirloin, rare to medium rare please and a loaded baked potato."

"Coming right up." She smiles, collecting the menus before happily waltzing to the order board.

You lean forward, a signature cat smile plastered on your lips.

"Not bad. Not bad." You take a sip of your refilled water, "It was Eijiro right?"

He laughs, its warm and kind, causing your stomach to flutter.

"Yes, I didn't catch your name?" He leans closer as you lean back, guarded.

"First, you have to answer why you decided to sit down across from me."

His everlasting smile falters for just a moment. He swallows, debating on answering truthfully or with a lie.

He thinks better of it.

"I didn't like the idea of such stunning fiercoity to be stood up. It was unmanly of your date and...." He waits for the waitress to set your drinks down before continuing, "Dickish."

It is your turn to laugh aloud as you watch a small blush creep upon his cheeks, bringing out the brightness of his eyes. You were truly in the presence of a gentleman, what with him waiting before cursing and speaking so lowly.

While you would have been brash, loud, and uncaring.

He relishes the sound of your sultry laugh, making him wonder what other parts of you were this...this intensely breathtaking.

He quiets some of his dirtier thoughts as he swallows down his desire with the whiskey.

"So you just happened to see me?" You nurse your own drink.

"Yes and no, I hear a couple talking about it on their way out. I was supposed to be with my friends tonight." His eyes roam the room, he smiles and you follow his gaze, "Well more of a work meeting."

A small group with a rowdy ash blonde, a quiet jade haired man, a petite chestnut brown haired woman and a man with a mop of mostly white hair.

For once in your life you feel a little guilty, his group of friends/co workers look fun.

You shouldn't be stealing him away just because he was saving you a bit of embarrassment.

"Oh, go back to them. I've eaten alone plenty of times." You smile his way, "I can cancel our orders."

"Oh no, like I said I'm not about to allow such a stunning fiercoity such as yourself to sit alone." He leans closer, his voice hushed and laced with concern, "Plus you looked....lonely. You must have liked him?"

Seeing him so worried about a strangers emotional state has your stomach in knots, your drink goes down easy before you shrug your shoulders.

"Key word, *liked*" You smile devilishly at him, a set of sharp teeth greet you in return.

"So what do you do for a living that you can have a meeting at a five star restaurant?" Curiosity finally getting the better of you as you pay what was supposed to be his table a final glance.

He let's out a low sigh, it sounds tired to you.

"Hero work." His smile is a fraction of its normal luster.

Or what you considered normal in the past twenty minutes or so.

"Ah, hard work I'm sure. Cheers." You clink his glass, "To you and your crew for keeping us all safe."

He gives you a pondering look before his smile returns to normal.

"Cheers." A quick swallow before your food is set before you.

Both of you sitting in comfortable silence. You watch as he cuts into his steak, the muscles in his arms contracting with each movement. Struggling to stay in his shirt at times, although the shirt did not seem too tight.

You smile as a devilish idea takes over, you stab one of his extra bites, the steak melts in your mouth. Biting back a moan as you savor the flavor.

You cut him a piece of your chicken, he goes to take your fork from your delicate, yet deadly, hand before you pull back.

He looks at you with furrowed brows before he catches on as you gently tilt the fork towards him. He takes a bite, holding eye contact before sliding off the piece of meat.

The chicken dances along his tongue melding with the crusted buttery bread crumbs and cheese.

Your heart slams into your chest, demanding to be heard.

Hell seen with how hard its ramming into your ribcage, wanting to burst free for the first time in a long time.

Another smile spreads across your slightly flushed cheeks.

All the while Kirishima cannot help but imagine what a devine creature such as yourself would taste like.

Sweet.

At least that's what he thought.

"What do you do for a living?" Knife slicing through tender beef. A pause on your end as you debate should you lie or tell the truth.

Well, the date wasn't going awfully, it wouldn't be a bad idea for one of your dates to know the truth.

"I'm a writer."

"What no way?! Like for the paper or published?" You swallow your worry.

"Published."

"Is that why you have yet to give me your name?" He peers up at you attempting to read your body language.

Only when you laughed was your guard down.

It had been partially if not mostly up for majority if this going on hour.

You paused, is that why you always used a pseudonym for fear that someone would put two and two together?

That they may have read your work?

And what if they hated it?

So fucking what if they did, you remind yourself with a sip of your liquor.

"Guess." Another famous cat smile. Kirishima ponders, fork and knife forgotten as he thinks.

"Oh! You do the crime books with that bad ass mob boss woman!" He snaps his fingers to attempt to remember, "'A Lone Red Rose,' ugh it's been on my reading list forever!"

"You're lying." You giggle but when his face becomes crestfallen you almost retreat your half tease half accusation.

A lot of firsts were happening for you tonight.

"Y/LN, you're a best freaking seller! I've been dying to know but never have time. I'm on the first chapter. I'm where the main crooks right hand man's wife gets SNATCHED in the middle of the night! I'm on the edge of my seat but I lost my book and hadn't had time to get a new one." He kinda sulks at the end.

"What happened to it?" Curiosity dances along your tone.

"Oh well Bakugou, the blonde at the table, " A point of your fork and a spy of your eye, "He had to blow up our steak out car to divert the perpetrator from hurting a civilian. He gave me the money for it three fold but I have yet to make it to the store."

"Ah." Is all you offer as you gaze over at his much different life.

Your newly banded tattoo seems to itch extra tonight, you choose to ignore it as another question comes out.

"But I've read so many reviews! Everyone speculates if you've done hero work before, or even shadowing. Some think you're writing your life. I'm guessing shadowing. Am I right?" He looks at you with expectant eyes and you smile warmly to him.

He was kind, unsuspected and reminded you so much of sunshine.

"Who's to say it's not my life?" You giggle and he laughs as well.

"Well the main love interest, again from what I heard, sounds explosive, temper wise. So unless Bakugou is a Mob Boss' son then I'm finding that highly doubtful." His laughter is contagious and you join in once more.

Let this be as it is and as he thinks.

"Ah yes, that would be a funny thought.: You glance at the table again before returning to that glittering gaze, "But you're right. I shadowed heroes in abroad. America actually before my Father sent me here."

"Oh what for?"

"To expand his business. I only just decided to go along with it." You bat long lashes his way.

He orders dessert, the two of you get along quite nicely before he insists he walks you to either the train station or a cab.

"I'll be fine. I'm not helpless or quirkless." It almost comes out a snarl, he places your coat onto your shoulders anyway.

"I would never think that of you. Any woman is capable of defending herself. But I was raised to aid anyway. Please do not take offense my love." He blushes at the end, realizing too late how real that sounded. You curl into the crook of his arm as he places his hand on your hip.

"Thank you my love." You smile up at him only to be pulled closer. He walks you to the curb in front of the restaurant to the idling dark car.

Your idling dark car, with a scarred looking driver. He blinks as the scene gives him a ghost of a feeling. He shakes it off. He goes to open your door for you, stopping just above the handle.

"Oh one more thing." A heavy blush rushes into his cheeks. Suddenly he is nervous, "May I have your time again? For a real date?"

You look deep into his eyes for deception and when you find none your smile.

Another genuine, heart melting smile before you lean up to him. Pressing your lips to his softly, swiping your tongue over his lips for a moment, hinging at what the two of you could be.

It all just depends on your mood and how much you cared to reveal.

He was a hero after all.

But he was so damn handsome.

"Eijiro, that's the realest date I've been on in a long time. Your phone?" You hold out your hand and his face fall.

"I didn't lie about it being dead." He scratches the back of your head and you pull out yours. He gives you his number that you text a winky face too before he opens your door.

Totally lapping up the presence of a true fucking gentleman. Hopefully that only went so far into the bedroom.

You looked at him through the tinted glass before rummaging around in the back seat. Your hands finding purchase on the cracking spine.

Ink slides across paper in a smooth concession before you roll the window down, peeking over it.

"For you." You smirk, "Let me know what you think when you've finished."

"I..I will!" He says as your roll your window up, the driver pulling away giving you a look.

"Madame, you realize that was Red Riot right?" He asks, concern melting into rage that he would dare touch you

"Yes, I know." Cat smile painting your lips.

"Oi! You stood us up to not even fuck?!" Bakugou have snarls, half teases when he finds him out on the curb.

"I got her number."

"Tch, come on let's go. Glad you finally got a copy of that damn book you won't shut the hell up about. You reread it so much that it was falling apart. I did you a favor that day."

"Haha yea Thanks Katsuki." Another suck at the blondes teeth.

Kirishima knew it was you the second he heard you laugh, he had read your book countless times.

He had an idea of who you were.

But he had no idea that his glittering Ruby eyes were staring down at a fortune. The very first and test print of your book, now adorned with your signature and lipstick mark on the front page.

To my hero for the night. 💋

#kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #eijiro x reader #bnha x reader #bnha au #bnha kirishima #bnha red riot #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagine

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yogpetshame · 4 years ago

Note

Madcat has released a 20 minute question and answer video. Responding to viewer questions.

youtube

He says a lot of really stupid stuff in here, I’m just picking out a few relevant things.

“It's all subjective, people have different sensitivities, but if you take a joke out of the environment and context it looks even worse. Especially if it's in a text form. Personally i think that most of the Yogs’ members said more offensive shit than i ever did. Maybe that will answer your question.”

If the Yogscast had been holding people to a standard, any standard at all, then yes, everyone who said something more offensive than you would’ve also been punished. Complaining that you shouldn’t have been punished for being offensive when other people were more offensive and did not is not an argument in your defense. It’s just an indictment of how lazy the Yogscast were about checking one another before Turps got the boot.

And the new administration isn’t even that punitive. Apparently you’re fine as long as you acknowledge your mistake and apologize. Which of course Madcat can’t because he acts like two-year-old.

“I think the main reason is because I never cared that much about what Sjin and Turps did. But it's not like I'm alone in this belief, hell even Lewis himself didn't care much about it four years ago.

“I guess I don't know the full extent of their actions so it's hard to judge,

and don't get me wrong I don't think flirting with fans is an okay thing to do. I'm not defending their actions”

Did you somehow fucking miss the memo?

Here’s some words Lewis uses to describe himself in the past:

“In 2016[...] I angrily defended [Sjin] and insulted those who were sharing the screenshots - something I deeply regret doing and am very sorry for...

Sjin was a close friend and I stupidly believed him when he said nothing inappropriate had happened...

To conclude, it’s become apparent to me that my past inaction and ignorance contributed to the hurt caused by Sjin and others and I feel deeply ashamed about this. I want to say sorry to everyone who has been affected.”

After reading that, I suppose Madcat just went “yeah lol but he was brainwashed by those SJWs and really, I still think it was just flirting after all?” Because yeah, if that’s what you think, then no, none of your beliefs are the main reason, it’s your “stupidity” and “ignorance” that garnered you hate, just to borrow from Lewis.

“What else there is to say? Shit hit the fan. I don't think I got kicked out because of what i said on discord, if that was the case half of the Yogs would be out. I've got the boot because of my position on x yog's, unwillingness to apologize for what I said, and mob pressure, and I can understand that. No hard feelings. Well maybe just a bit.”

See, he admits that he’s ignorant of what went on with Sjin and Turps, and then he calls his take a “position.” You don’t get to have a “position.” You just get to be stupid and ignorant.

“Not really I never watched their content. I've seen some spicy clips from Funhaus back in the day and loved it. Unfortunately just like the Yogs I've heard Rooster Teeth are taking the PC road. It sucks but maybe it's the only way to exist in this day and age.”

It’s like the only way Madcat can laugh is if the joke is hurtful. As though it’s not possible to be, as he calls it, “spicy,” without going through the trouble of inviting a racial minority or a woman to work with you, introducing them to your network, and then disregarding their feelings so thoroughly they wish they’d never met you in the first place.

I don't think so, it might cause trouble to Yogs. At first Yogs were like “you can keep them online and monetize it make some money” then I was like “that's pretty unreasonable, it will bring you trouble in the future, I will private them.” And then they were like, “understandable, keep them private and we will copyright claim them.” And I was like [confused reaction image] “okay.” So here I am sitting on a bomb and poking it with a stick. If this channel disappears one day don't be surprised. I don't think the Yogs like me anymore.

This back-and-forth doesn’t really make sense to me. And there’s that phrase again, “it will bring you trouble in the future.”

I can’t tell if I’m interpreting this exchange differently than Madcat did. Reading it back, it looks like the Yogscast are saying his content is harmless and they don’t mind letting him keep it up. Madcat advises them that the content is going to be more damning over time. The Yogscast takes his advice and says okay, if you don’t think something should stay up we’ll take steps to remove it if you don’t. And Madcat is surprised that they took his advice.

Madcat’s interpretation seems to be really... unreasoned. The Yogscast say go ahead and leave your content up, Madcat says that might not be a good idea because of damning videos, the Yogscast hear his gracious offer to private their videos and take it as fighting words.

The point is he keeps using phrases like “my videos might cause them harm in the future” and it’s starting to sound more like blackmail than concern, which is probably what the Yogscast heard as well.

Anyway that’s all that really needs covering. There’s a few real thonkhead moments I can’t really capture in text, like him repeatedly using images of the results from that poll he made to beg Lewis not to force him to stop using Sjin and Turps, to illustrate that his viewers are the ‘majority of Yogscast fans’ who agree with him. Instead of realizing that he’s just courted all the crazy unwelcome scum onto his channel. Madcat also uses a long quote from Nietsche that makes him sound like a zitty Hot Topic kid who’s just discovered angst, the kid that says that atheism makes him ‘euphoric’ and relates too well to characters like Rick and the Joker (2019) and then acts like it was some kind of amazing, prolific own.

Madcat just has no self awareness. That’s all that really needs to be said. Everywhere he appears, in his comments sections, responding to comments on other’s videos, on his Discord, the people who jump to support him are fucking insane. It’s like being a hero to the flat-Earth community. You’d think having that kind of parade would tell you something about the so-called ‘minority’ that wants you gone, but I think you’d need to be less ignorant to notice.

#yps thatmadcat

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anuschkalova · 5 years ago

Text

Simply and Sanely PART 8 (Jeremiah x Reader)

A/N: I can’t believe I actually did it, but here it is: chapter 8! 🎉 I’m sorry for the wait. As I was writing this part, I realized how much I’ve missed this series and writing in general. I’m sad that Gotham is over, but I rewatched some episodes and fell in love again. Warning: this chapter is really long! So grab a drink and some snacks, get cozy and enjoy! Also: If you want to support me, I’ll be more than grateful for a cup of coffee! https://ko-fi.com/anniartheart Thank you!❤️

Summary: Y/N gets in trouble and Jeremiah helps her. But little does she know that he drags her into more trouble, making Y/N a part of his plans. Forcing her to enter the dangerous life of Gotham’s underworld.

Pairing: Jeremiah Valeska x Reader Word count: 4,693 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 🖤Masterlist🖤

Previously:

„Hi!“ He waved with his gun and wore a devious grin. „I’m Victor Zsasz and I’m here to pick you up. The Penguin wants to talk to you.“

The air was burning in your lungs. Every breath was agony, but the pain was evidence of your liveliness, so you gladly endured it. Still coughing, you gathered up the little strength that was left in your trembling body and sat up. You raised your head to look at the black dressed man.

„Alright. Take me to him“, you agreed. Victor titled his head a little, a deep frown on his face. It was then that you noticed his missing eyebrows.

„Well, I was hoping you’d make a fuss. That was too easy“, he almost complained and you mirrored his confusion. „Why?“, you asked.

He casually pointed with his gun towards you. „Wanted to shoot your knee. You know, the pretty ones scream the most.“ Your hand, that had just started to carefully rub your bruised neck, went abruptly still. The familiar craziness in his dark eyes sent shivers down your spine. „Is everyone in this god damn city crazy?“, you mumbled to yourself and Victor grinned.

„Welcome to Gotham, sweet cheeks.“

You just glanced up at the man, too exhausted to be either upset or scared. But you were concerned: the gun, which Selina had given you for protection, was now laying close to Mr. Ricci’s body.

You doubted for Victor’s approval to take the weapon along to Oswald’s meeting, so you had to come up with something. Bending over the dead man, you searched his pockets for anything of value. While you put his wallet and golden rings into your clutch, Victor whistled to express his surprise, as well as admiration. „Tough litte thing. I like you.“ You heard the dull steps of his heavy boots getting closer. Calmly, you snatched the gun and stored it away before the steps stopped behind you.

„Time to go“, he said.

The GCPD Headquarters resembled a sinking ship. There was utter chaos; swarms of equipped police officers rushed out of the building, the telephones kept ringing while short-staffed officers had to deal with worried citizens. One by one, they stormed into the Headquarters and demanded answers.

„Who’s responsible for that?!“ „Are we safe?!“ „Where’s James Gordon? What is he going to do?!“

„There he is!“, someone yelled and pointed up to the first floor. Gordon, who had just ended a phone call with Gotham’s major, stepped out of his office. He clenched his jaw at the sight of the furious mob and walked down the stairs.

„Please, do not panic“, Gordon said and raised both hands calmingly, but it didn’t work. Angry faces stared back at him and someone snorted loudly.

„Not panic? Someone, god knows who, blew up the library and we are supposed to not panic?!“

„I understand you…“, Gordon reassured, „… and we do everything in our power to put the bomber under arrest. As for now, there’s no need for an evacuation. Avoiding public spots and staying home is the safest option.“

Finally, his words seemed to make an impact as people gradually fell silent. Gordon sighed impalpably and waited patiently for further questions - when all of a sudden, he spotted Selina’s face.

The teenage girl barged her way through the crowds, until she reached the front row. „Selina? What are you doing here?“, the commissioner asked, clearly confused.

„I need to talk to you!“, she urged and came to a stand next to Gordon, who frowned.

„If it’s because of the explosion, then…-“

„It has to do with a friend of mine!“, Selina interrupted him. Judging by her tensed expression, the situation seemed rather serious, so Gordon put a hand on her back and took a few steps away from the people.

„What’s your friend’s name?“

„Y/N“, she replied, quick like a shot and Gordon thought he had misheard her. Due to the babel of voices and ringtones, it was not far-fetched and so Gordon asked again: „Your friend’s name is Y/N? Y/L/N?“

Now it was Selina’s turn to frown. „You know her?“

„I talked to her, yes. What is the matter?“

Even though Selina was clearly confused, she wasted no time. „Penguin is looking for her. I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s also involved with this maniac Jeremiah. I saw them having dinner, she asked me for a gun and I gave her one and-“ The more Selina revealed, the more absent Gordon became. He turned away from the girl as his thoughts spun over in his mind.

„Hey!“, Selina called and followed him. „Did you listen to me? Y/N is in serious trouble and we need to help her! Now!“

Luckily, Harvey Bullock walked over to Gordon with a file in his hand and the commissioner intercepted his partner by grabbing the man’s shoulder. „We have to see Oswald. Y/N is more involved than we thought“, Jim informed him, his serious gaze put a frown on Harvey’s face. „The wonderland-lady?“ The detail got Selina’s attention and she pushed herself between the two police officers, making her presence hard to ignore.

„Okay, what’s going on here? Why did you talk to Y/N?“, she demanded. Selina’s almond-shaped eyes stared at Gordon expectantly and the GCPD captain, who was familiar with her stubbornness, sighed.

„Spit it out!“

„She was a witness of a crime scene that involved Jeremiah“, Gordon explained harsher than intended, but Selina didn’t care. The new information left her stunned and a loud snort escaped her lips as she shook her head.

„Wait, so… you knew that she had made contact with that maniac and you did what: nothing?!“

„Selina…“, Gordon tried to allay the upset teenage girl, but failed. Selina just raised her hands to hush him and backed out. „I thought your job was to protect people!“, she exclaimed. Wild flames of anger were roaring deep inside of her, turning her blood into lava. If this green-eyed lunatic laid a finger on you, god have mercy, she would stab him to death.

„Selina, wait!“ Gordon’s attempt to stop her fell on deaf ears. He had no other choice than to watch Selina disappear into the crowd, probably about to do something rash.

„Did she just criticize our way of working?“, Bullock asked offended, but Gordon gritted his teeth and quickly grabbed a pack of ammunition from a colleague’s table.

„Let’s go.“

The sharp echo of your heels was the only sound as you walked the dimmed hallway of Oswald’s underground fortress. Your inner tension grew with every step you took and turned minutes into hours. Now and then, you glimpsed at Victor who kept staring straight forward and you couldn’t help but look at his arm. After he’d shot Mr. Ricci, the hitman had guided you to a car and hardly inside the vehicle, he cut himself with a razor. The sight of the many scars on his arm left you shocked until now. You gulped at the memory.

Suddenly, you heard an awful scream coming from inside at the back and you jumped around - but no one was there. Again, another loud scream rang out from the distance and Victor flashed a smile that revealed his sharp teeth.

„Unfortunately, we can’t join this party.“ His gloved hand found the small of your back, but you refused to walk. Were they going to torture you as well? The possibility evoked waves of anxiety and in a moment, you were paralyzed with fear.

„Move“, Victor growled as he pushed you forward. „Please“, you breathed, searching for any sympathy in his dark eyes, a glint of hope - but despite the dangerous sparkle in his intense stare, there was nothing but evil nature.

„Please, what? You finally wanna get shot in the knee?“, he asked in anticipation.

Your eyes widened and before you could react, Victor’s firm grip picked you up and put your body over his shoulder. A squeal escaped your throat while you clung to the black fabric of his blazer for support.

„See, I like you better this way. It’s more fun.“ He started to whistle as he carried you further into the never-ending tunnel, ignoring your protests. After a while, you resigned and waited for Victor to stop and when he did, you looked up.

„Final destination, sweet cheeks“, he announced and before he put you down, Victor lightly slapped your backside which caused you to flinch. As soon as your feet touched the ground, another voice caught your attention.

„Ah! My guest of honor has arrived!“ A rather short man, dressed in a grey stripped morning suit, approached you. He limped across the spacious room, using a walking stick in the process.

„I’m Oswald Cobblepot. Pleasure to meet you!“ You hesitantly took his outstretched hand and he enthusiastically shook it.

„Y/N L/N.“

Judging by his cheerful smile, he was indeed very pleased to see you and it increased your chance of survival.

„Please“, Oswald gestured you to enter. While he hobbled back to his seat near the fireplace, you briefly glanced at Victor’s military figure who stood guard next to the door. Somehow, your gut told you to keep an eye on him and when he cheekily winked at you, you followed Oswald by going through the open double-door.

Two freshly poured glasses of wine awaited you at the long table. The furniture, with its many chairs on both sides, reminded you of a centipede.

„Miss Y/N, there are two things that you need to know about me…“, the black-haired criminal began, handing you one glass and you listened. He seated himself on the pretentious arm chair and took a sip as he waited for you to do the same.

„You see, I’m a very impatient man with a temper who never beats around the bush“, Oswald clarified and that’s when you noticed that his excessive smile didn’t reach his eyes.

He seemed to wait. „I understand“, you eventually said, nodding.

„That being said…“, he leaned closer, elbows on the table as his glance bored into yours, „… I want to know where Jeremiah Valeska is.“

Jeremiah Valeska. This goddamn name. It was his fault for dragging you into this world of chaos and death. Whatever power game these two were playing, and considering the recent events, one thing was for sure: it wouldn’t end in your favor. Your only option was to get out of this, as soon as possible, and in order to achieve that you had to play your cards right…

>>I want your pretty lips to be sealed.<< That’s what he said. The last time you’d ignored his instruction, Jeremiah blew up a library. So what should you do? Oswald sensed your inner conflict and all it took from him to get your attention back was to slam his glass on the table.

„Impatient“, he reminded you. His arm chair screeched as he stood up, slowly wandering behind you.

„I’m tired, extremely tired of getting excuses instead of answers“, he said and took your hand in his, caressing your fingers with his thumb. „And this is not personal, I reassure you, but I will torn out your fingernails, one by one if you remain silent!“

„Ah!“, you gasped at his sudden tight grip that painfully squeezed your fingers.

„Talk, woman!“

Then, an idea popped up in your mind. It was a risky move, but you gave it a whirl.

„I know where Martin is!“

„What?“ Oswald let go of your hand. He yanked your stool to the side so that you were facing him.

„What did you say?!“, he asked again, his whole face strained and a look of complete bewilderment in his eyes. Jackpot.

Leaning closer, you felt your heart racing. At last, the sweet hope of freedom seemed within your reach and you pulled yourself together to keep a cool head.

„Mr. Cobblepot, the only thing you need to know about me is my honesty…“ Oswald hung on your every word; with every fiber of his body, he was ready to believe you. Naturally, Oswald was being torn from his trance as your hands cupped his.

„I want Martin to be safe and sound. He’s just an innocent child that shouldn’t experience such horrific things.“

„So he’s okay? He’s alive?“

You nodded. „Yes. Physically, he’s in best health.“

„Oh, thank god!“, Oswald gasped out in relief, his shoulders visibly dropping. Poor man, he had been subjected to uncertainty for far too long.

„He…- Jeremiah… brought me to his hideout, a bunker, where he holds Martin hostage. Please trust me when I say that an unfortunate event made our paths cross. I’m just a pawn in a rigged game, like Martin.“

Lips pressed into a thin line, Oswald tried to regain his composure, but there was something else. His icy blue eyes studied you intensely, it wasn’t as extreme as Jeremiah’s stare, but equally unpleasant.

„The dart of an eye, tensing of forehead… the littlest thing can say a lot“, he remarked, pulling his hand out of your grip. He silently continued his observation and you put a brave face on - after all, you were telling the truth and your confident aura made Oswald chuckle. The chuckle, however, soon turned into laughter which left you clueless. And in a swift movement, Oswald slammed his palm on the table and the laughter stopped. You almost jumped up from your seat.

„Excellent!“, he cheered. „I’m pleased to see that you’re not lying! So, I assume you’ll help us?“

You bit your lower lip. „I’m going to show you the bunker, yes. But on one condition.“

Oswald’s knowing smile encouraged you to keep talking.

„I want protection for me and my sister. After all, Jeremiah won’t be pleased to have me helping you“, you said and the man pursed his lips.

„Fine! If there’s nothi…-“

A storm of gunshots interrupted Oswald mid-sentence and he turned to Victor, alarmed. The bald killer, who already held two guns in each hand, stepped back to cover you and his boss. Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway and a group of armored men entered the room.

„Oswald Cobblepot“, one of them addressed the Penguin as he raised his hand, holding a document.

„We’re here on behalf of Mr. Ricci. You didn’t pay on time, so we’re going to confiscate your toys.“ Mr. Ricci is dead, you thought smugly and glanced up at Victor.

Without wasting time, the men aimed for the room in the back, stowing away all kinds of weapons and ammunition in bags and suitcases.

In a matter of minutes, the group of 20 had emptied half of the room’s stock.

„What?! That’s ridiculous! I’ve already made payments!“, Oswald explained, more than upset. He limped to the leader of the group, the one with the document and ripped the piece of paper from his hand.

„Wait, that’s the payment for next month. Today’s the 5th!“

„Change of deadline“, the man simply replied with a shrug. „According to the document, the payment was due on the 3rd. That’s why we’ll keep your stuff for three days, like the general terms and conditions says and oh, look: that’s your signature down there. So quit the whining.“ Of course it was fake, but it didn’t stop the pillaging. Oswald was helpless, but then he rushed towards you.

„You!“, he yelled. „You knew about it!“, he pulled at your hair, forcing your body to stand up.

„No! I have nothing to do with this, I swear!“ He scoffed.

„Oh, I know about your little diner date! What kind of deal did this maniac do with Mr. Ricci?!“ He pulled again, twirling your hair around his hand to get a firmer grip.

„I don’t know!“

„Liar!“

„I’m not! I was sent to the car! I have no idea what they talked about!“, you asserted desperately. Tears were streaming down your face as the burning sensation on your scalp became unbearable. Oswald looked at Victor and he nodded, confirming your story.

„Whatever!“, the criminal spat, pushing you against Victor who caught you.

„There’s no time to lose! Get me together a good bunch of men, Victor! We’ll put an end to this circus.“

You fumbled with your hands nervously as you scanned the passing buildings. The car, a silver-painted rust bucket, drove the familiar route to your apartment. Oswald Cobblepot, Victor Zsasz and a murky-looking guy behind the wheel were also inside the vehicle. While Oswald occupied the front row, you tried your best to ignore the hitman next to you - but you could feel his eyes on you.

To your surprise, you were able to persuade Oswald in seeing your sister before you’d head to the bunker.

Repeatedly, you were looking behind you, but despite two more cars of Oswald’d men, there wasn’t anything suspicious. No Jeremiah.

„Relax. Your are in good hands“, Victor ensured, smirking like the mad-man he was. After fifteen minutes, you’d arrived.

„Hurry up“, Oswald commanded and you nodded, running across the street.

While climbing the stairs five floors up to your apartment, you used the time to rethink your plan.

First of all, you would guide Oswald and his men to the bunker in the forest - that was the easiest part. The real challenge was to get them inside. Okay, think. How will you do this? There were cameras outside the bunker, so there was no point in sneaking in as Jeremiah would detect your group.

Therefore, it had to be you. He’d certainly open the door for you and once inside, you had to shut down the alarm and monitoring system. So far, so good. Then, you’d unlock the door for Oswald and provided with a map of the labyrinth that you’d sketch, they should be able to find Martin. After that, it was a race against time to get out alive. Your heartbeat quickened as your imagination went further, thinking about the last and final part of your plan. The second Martin was free, safe and sound in the woods, you would face Jeremiah and…-

Just when you arrived on the fifth floor, keys ready in your hands, you paused at the sight of your door. It was open. In the blink of an eye, millions of horror scenarios flooded your mind and they all included your beloved sister. No, no, no. Please, god. I beg you.

You grabbed the gun in your bag by instinct as you tiptoed closer, carefully listening for any noises inside your apartment, but it was dead silent.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly sneaked in your dark hallway and got an overview. Everything seemed to be on its place, there weren’t any hints for a break-in. But even though you couldn’t see anything suspicious, you could definitely smell it.

The intruder had left an obtrusive scent, a strong cologne that laid in the air, telling you that you were not alone. Of course, you were going to inspect your sister’s room above all.

Your heart was painfully hammering against your chest, so much that you were afraid it could explode at any second. But it wasn’t fear that pumped the blood through your veins, no. It was pure anger. Whoever dared to break into your home and possibly harm your sister - hell would be salvation after you were done with that bastard.

One last step, and you were just two feet away from your sister’s room. You bent slightly forward to sneak a peek and immediately regretted it as the old wooden floor creaked under your weight. „Fuck!“, you hissed and saw a shadow move through the tiny crack of the door. Without losing more time, you bursted into the room. „Hands up or I’ll shoot!“, you yelled, holding the gun with straightened arms in front of you.

The intruder, a man that stood on the other side of the room, turned out to be none other than Jeremiah Valeska. Dressed in a dark purple suit and shiny black shoes, he titled his head to stroke his sleek hair.

„Is that how you welcome guests, my dear?“, he criticized while readjusting his tie.

„What are you doing here?“ The disapproval in your voice and the fact that you didn’t lower your gun made one of his curved eyebrows perk up.

„Paying you a visit. Isn’t it obvious?“

You followed his gaze and spotted the fresh flowers on the nightstand - a bunch of beautiful white lilies.

„Looks more like housebreaking“, you corrected him, checking on your sister. She seemed fine, the machines worked and the monitor showed normal levels.

„What a pity…“, Jeremiah spoke in his monotone voice. „She looks like Sleeping Beauty, waiting for her prince charming to kiss her awake and not like… brain-dead.“

„Shut up“, you growled through gritted teeth and Jeremiah quietly clicked his tongue.

„My apologies.“

For several minutes, darkness and silence reigned. While you had him in your sights, gun still in your hand, Jeremiah kept a close eye on you as well - his face moving like a sculpture carved out of stone. So, secretly giving up on reading him, you focused on the rhythmical beeping of the life-saving machine. The sound reminded you of a clock whose beeping declared every passed second.

„So“, Jeremiah said, walking with long steps ahead to pause in front of you. Even though you owned a gun, his piercing green eyes never failed to create an uneasiness. His all-knowing glance made you aware of the fact that you were like an open book to him - he read line by line, every detail and every secret. The longer he stared at you, the more nervous you became. And when he spoke again, it was the final straw.

„Tell me… How was your evening with Mr. Ricci?“

The man’s name alone triggered you immensely and forced you to relive the terrifying moment. Anger, fear, helplessness and panic - the cocktail of emotions clouded your mind.

„You son of a bitch!“ Without thinking twice, you’d raised your hand and slapped him, so hard that the sharp smack teared the air in half.

„Who do you think you are?! That pervert degraded me, almost killed me! I am not your fucking property, you psycho!“ Your voice was shaking. And so was your body.

You glared at Jeremiah’s profile; the impact had turned his head; and watched as he carefully touched his cheek.

„Now, now. How ungrateful“, he whispered and in the next breath, you were slammed against the wall. You didn’t know when, but Jeremiah had deprived you of the gun, pressing now his forearm against your chest to keep you in place. It hurt.

„It’s astonishing how you keep forgetting that I’ve saved your life.“ His other hand gripped your chin, his thump resting on your lower lip.

„Instead of those ugly words, I was expecting to hear expressions of gratitude. Mr. Ricci was a gift from me, after all.“

„A gift?“

„Yes“, he hissed, leaning closer until his warm breath collided with your heated skin. „Don’t presume I didn’t notice your little exchange in the bathroom. I’m not stupid, my dear.“

You squirmed, but Jeremiah wouldn’t let go. His thumb started to caress your trembling lip and it made you freeze in place.

„Mr. Ricci was the perfect candidate.“

„The perfect candidate for what?“, you asked and he grinned.

„The perfect candidate to be your first victim.“ Suddenly, all the anger was gone and had been replaced by disbelief. What did he say?

„Oh, please“, Jeremiah half-heartedly moaned and rolled his eyes, „Don’t play the good girl. Of course you were going to use the gun and I wanted to give you the opportunity.“

„And why would I thank you?“ All he said made no sense, if anything - it only proved his madness. He purposely put you in this dangerous situation, just so that you were forced to kill Mr. Ricci.

„You see, Y/N, killing a person is a life-changing experience. It gives you power.“ Your puzzled and disturbed look seemed to amuse him.

„But you didn’t, did you?“

„No“, you confessed and were unsure whether you should feel proud or guilty. However, it worried you that Jeremiah already knew the answer and you wondered: how much more did he know?

Then, he suddenly pulled back his arms and you staggered.

„What a pity“, he mumbled, sounding like a disappointed father. Jeremiah walked to the window and shoved the curtains a little aside to look at the street.

„I see that you’ve made the acquaintance of Oswald“, he commented casually and you detected a hint of satisfaction. Shit, there went your plan.

But why didn’t he seem angry or bothered? After all, he’d told you to lie about Martin and yet again, you didn’t obey him.

Every muscle in your body tensed and you awaited an explosion somewhere in the city.

„I guess it can’t be helped then.“

Your eyes were locked on the ground as you listened to Jeremiah’s footsteps, coming closer and closer. If he wasn’t going to set a bomb, then…

Automatically, you stepped in front of your sister’s bed and met the criminal. He was towering over you, radiating an aura of arrogance and craziness. When he raised the gun, you were ready to beg.

„Guide them to the bunker. I’ll be waiting for you“, he said and put the weapon in your hand. You couldn’t believe it. It took you a moment to realize that you and your sister were still alive and after you’d regained your composure, you turned around to face Jeremiah.

He stood next to the bed and observed the sleeping girl.

„I’m impressed“, he admitted and you frowned. „It’s heart-warming how much you care for her. My brother never did. He was turning my childhood into a living nightmare.“

Unsure how to react, you decided to just listen, but Jeremiah straightened his back and pulled at his jacket.

„I’ll see you then. Don’t dawdle. We have a long night ahead of us“, he told you and left the room. You held your breath to hear the click of the closing apartment door and when it did, you collapsed on the ground.

„Thank god“, you whispered at the verge of tears. Crawling next to the bed, you grabbed your sister’s warm hand and squeezed it. She was alive.

Even though you were more than relieved, you knew that it wasn’t over yet. As Jeremiah that: the night was long and Martin was still trapped in the bunker.

You stood up, kissed your sister goodbye and rushed out of the apartment. Oswald was still waiting and you didn’t want to waist anymore time. Pull yourself together, you can do it! You stepped out into the cold night and headed for the silver car. Whatever Jeremiah had in mind, you needed to outsmart him. For Martin’s sake.

„Y/N!“, a familiar voice called and you turned your head. James Gordon got out of his car, one hand lurking on the gun by his hip while he approached you.

You came to a halt in the middle of the street, not sure what to do.

„Don’t!“, you warned the GCPD captain, but he ignored it. He kept walking.

„Listen! No matter what’s going on, I will help you! You need to trust me, Y/N!“

„Hi, Jim!“ Victor’s upper body popped out of the silver car’s window. He held two guns that aimed for the GCPD officer as a devious grin decorated his features.

„Bye, Jim!“ Countless shots aimed for Gordon; the defeating noise made you cower and closing your eyes. A scream echoed and you flinched. Did Victor shot a woman?

It was hard to think probably amongst that hailstorm of flying bullets, but you noted that it had been your scream.

Concerned about the officer, you opened your eyes again and a dazzling light blinded you. One, two, three seconds was the amount of time your brain needed to process the situation - a truck sped towards you. Your heart stopped beating.

To be continued…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 🖤Masterlist🖤

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bellemorte180 · 5 years ago

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Just Good Business, Chapter Six: Epilogue

Caroline Salvatore, married into one of New York's most brutal crime families.

Niklaus Mikaelson, a notorious mob boss who is hell bent on taking down the Slavatores.

It's an affair for the ages.

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence.

One Year Later

“Are you sure you’re ready to do this Gorgeous?” Enzo asked from the front seat. His dark eyes shown concern and Caroline could not help but smile at him. He knew the affect the strain of the last few months had on her and while it was far better than the life she had prior, the fall out of their schemes were not exactly a walk in the park. “You gave birth only a few months ago. Are you sure you don’t want to be home with Kol?”

Caroline smiled lightly at the thought of her son. Kol Niklaus Mikaelson came into the world screaming and wild. Even at four months old, Kol was untamable. He was sitting, scooting and just demanding attention. Klaus liked to joke as though it was his brother re-born while Caroline countered that while their son was named after his deceased uncle, that child was all Klaus. The baby even had the curly blonde hair already and his father’s dimples.

“Do you trust Bonnie so little?” She teased and Enzo rolled her eyes. Realizing that while she loved her son, Caroline wanted more of the world than to be just a mother. She started working at Klaus’s shell company and began heavily involved in his other businesses. Caroline found that she was really good at criminal activity; especially when it came to moving illegal substances across state lines and bringing them into the country. Her organization skills were impeccable and having grown up the daughter of the police chief, she knew how the NYPD operated.

However, that meant they needed someone to be stay with Kol when they could not. Klaus refused to hire just anyone. Interview after interview and yet they found no one. When Enzo mentioned that Bonnie had a degree in early childhood development before her sickle cell anima took root, they were intrigued. Caroline loved Bonnie immediately and Klaus could not tell her no.

Bonnie was funny, genuine and knew exactly what kind of work they were involved with; she had to since she was involved with Enzo. She was also strong. After a stem cell transplant, she seemed to be on the mend, much to Enzo’s relief. Bonnie started caring for Caroline during the end stages of her pregnancy and was with Kol during the day while his parents were at work; surrounding by bodyguards. Klaus was not about to risk his son’s safety. Only the best and most trusted guards were posted with Kol and Bonnie at all times.

“She loves that kid more than she loves me but I’m more worried about you. Are you sure you want to walk in there?” Enzo asked. In truth, Caroline was ready for this fiasco to be done and over with. When she walked out of her living room, leaving Stefan’s dead body behind; she did not know exactly what was to follow. The media circus and trial that followed were rough.

Stefan’s body was found the following morning. Police and FBI descended upon the home. Elijah happily turned over all the footage they collected from the cameras planted in their home; deleting the footage of Caroline. Adding in the fact that Elena’s body washed up on the shore of the Hudson River, it was easy to get a federal warrant to arrest Damon.

Damon was charged with two counts of first-degree murder and received a life sentence without the option of parole. While Alaric Saltzman was able to get Stefan out of jail due to the lack of evidence used against him for the murders of Meredith Fell and Elizabeth Forbes, there was video evidence of Damon committing Stefan’s murder and his confession to Elena’s.

But it just wasn’t enough. Not for Elijah and certainly not for Klaus.

As for Caroline, she was painted as a hero. The media portrayed her as an abused wife who turned informant for the FBI, feeding them information on her husband for months. There were photos of the beatings Caroline sustained at the hands of Stefan. They painted the story that she tried leaving multiple times but was unable to; held prisoner by Stefan. She learned of Stefan’s affair and the moment she was able to break free, she informed Damon of his wife’s infidelity. Her own affair was conveniently left out of the papers.

She, of course, had no idea that Damon would fly off the handle in such a manner.

The jury loved her. She was beautiful, sympathetic and heavily pregnant. It was reported that it was her testimony that caused the jury to come back with a guilty verdict in less than fifteen minutes. Damon was carted off and the Salvatore organization dismantled. Many of the criminals were on the run from Klaus’s vast network. It should have been over; but the pesky issue of Damon still being alive bothered both Elijah and Klaus. Despite the fact that Rebekah moved back to New York- they wanted anyone involved with their brother’s death stamped out.

Caroline suggested that they have him murdered in prison, but Klaus replied that it lacked finesse. They wanted to watch him die much like Caroline needed that closure when the life left Stefan’s eyes. She could not begrudge them; which was why Caroline was sitting in a black car in the middle of alleyway, in front of the same warehouse Enzo took her to meet Klaus the day she learned of her mother’s murder.

When Elijah realized that Damon was going to be transferred to a federal prison out of state, he easily arranged for that transport to be intercepted. “Yes.” Caroline took a deep breath and opened the car door. Once she was safely inside the warehouse, she looked over to see Enzo drive off. No need for him to escort her inside this time. She knew exactly what was waiting for her. She walked down the quiet vacant warehouse.

There was not much in the warehouse. Officially, Caroline learned that it was owned by the bank after a business went bankrupt. She knew, of course, that through several back channels that it belonged to Klaus and was used for some of his shadier business practices; like torture, body dismemberment and convincing a wife to betray her husband. However, Klaus currently was using the warehouse for storage of some old artifacts that were shipped in illegally from Europe. Caroline herself had overseen the shipment and was rather proud of the fact that the plan went smoothly. So, the warehouse was filled with crates, canvases and other priceless things that were to be sold on the black market. As she weaved through the mess that she was already mentally organizing, she began to hear voices.

“Tell me Damon, how does it feel to hit rock bottom?” Klaus’s voice sounded, echoing through the warehouse. Caroline rolled her eyes. While she loved Klaus and felt as though she was going to spend the rest of her mafia induced life with him, she could admit that he had the tendency to be a bit over dramatic.

“Fuck you.” Damon’s voice replied but it lacked the bravado that Caroline had come to associate with him. Damon always seemed confidant and in control; even if he seemed far too impulsive for her taste. Elena’s affair, the trail and everything that followed must have really destroyed him. Stefan was always Caroline’s monster and now that he was dead; she almost felt bad.

But she would never deny Klaus his need for revenge, especially when it came to Damon; who after all, was responsible for his brother’s murder.

“You’re not really my type.” Klaus replied in a smart tone. “That and I am happy to report that I am off the market. In a very serious relationship. Very committed.”

“Word of advice, I thought the same thing. Turns out my wife fucked my brother and look where that got me.” Damon replied and Caroline rolled her eyes again. If she was being honest, Caroline could not help but agree that in this matter. He did not ask to be cheated on. She could understand how that would rip someone’s heart out, especially when he loved Elena as much as he did. While Caroline did not see what Damon saw in Elena, she wasn’t completely heartless.

“I have no worries in that regard.” Klaus replied in a throw away tone. “Would you like to meet her? I think I hear her coming now.” Caroline looked down at her expensive high-heeled boots and cursed. The clicking the heel made as it hit the cement flooring didn’t even faze her; she had become so accustomed to the sound that she no longer heard it. “Sweetheart?”

Caroline sighed and walked around the massive amounts of crates and the pillar that was perched in the middle of the massive room. While the majority of the warehouse was pretty much dark but this particular section was slightly better lit due to the flimsy light swinging over Damon’s head. Damon was handcuffed to a metal chair and in a bright orange jumpsuit that did nothing for his complexion.

There were a few men standing behind him wearing FBI jackets that Caroline recognized as men who worked for Klaus. She had dealt with them from time to time over the last year and they seemed to be rather intimidated by her. She did not know if it was because she was with Klaus or good at her job; she liked to pretend it was the latter.

Across from Damon was Klaus, sitting in an identical chair but seemed far more relaxed. He wore a white button dress shirt and slacks; telling Caroline that he had come directly from the office. Elijah was standing over his shoulder, looking at Damon with unabashed hatred. The two brothers had been looking to this moment for well over two years. All their planning, patience and scheming was coming to fruition; Caroline did not even care that she was being used as a prop piece to rub salt into Damon’s already deep wound.

The look on Damon’s face was priceless. He seemed shocked at her appearance, his bright blue eyes widening and his jaw going slightly slacked. Caroline was sure that she was the last person he ever expected to see; let alone be with Klaus. However, his shock quickly dissipated, and Damon narrowed his eyes.

“I believe the two of you know each other well so introductions will not be necessary.” Klaus stated and Caroline held Damon’s gaze. Despite Klaus bravado, Caroline did enjoy seeing Damon’s fury. To drive the point home, Caroline walked over to Klaus, weaving her fingers through his hair and pulled his head back slightly. She leaned down and kissed Klaus on the lips. The kiss turned deep, passionate and long. When they broke apart, they both turned to look at Damon with hooded eyes. However, Damon seemed to have cooled his features.

“Don’t tell me that Klaus is going to be playing daddy to my niece or nephew.” Damon quipped and Klaus narrowed his eyes. The one things Elijah wanted to keep quiet during the trial was the fact that Caroline and Klaus were having an affair. Elijah felt that her testimony could be tainted and would be prejudice against her if discovered. Much to Klaus’s chagrin, they kept that news of their relationship quiet. The world saw a pregnant Caroline, assuming that the child she carried belonged to Stefan. Damon apparently was under the same impression; assuming she left Stefan because of the baby. “And here I was thinking of setting up a trust fund for the kid.”

“My son is none of your concern Damon.” Caroline replied in a sweet voice. “In fact, my son is not even related to you.” At first Damon appeared confused. It took a few seconds, but the truth dawned on him. His eyes flickering between the two of them with wild eyes. “There it is. I knew he would figure it out eventually.”

“No. Seriously?! Him?”

“For a good long while, actually.” Caroline replied. “All those times you and Stefan reveled your plans in front of me, I listened and went straight to Klaus. The sex was just a bonus.”

“I take it my brother did not know of this little…affair.” Damon replied. “He would have killed you the second he found out about it.”

“Remember how you beat Stefan to death?” Klaus asked and Damon froze at the mention of his crime. Caroline could see a hint of sadness in his eyes; almost as though he regretted killing his brother. Although, she would bet he regretted Elena’s death more. Even in the worst betrayal, he still loved her. “Well, Caroline and I watched it all.”

“The hidden cameras I take it?”

“Yes.” Caroline replied. She knew that Damon had a lapse of judgment the night he killed Stefan. He knew that Caroline got the footage of the numerous sex acts Stefan and Elena preformed from her home, but due to his anger; he didn’t consider the fact that the cameras would be on while he killed Stefan. He was too blinded by rage. “I watched you beat him. Then I needed him to know that it was me. That I was fucking Klaus right under his nose and that I was carrying his child. Then I sat down and watched him die.”

“Stefan must have really fucked you up Blondie if you jumped into bed with Klaus. Do you really think he will treat you any better? My advice, take the kid and run before he ruins you further.” Klaus jumped up and hit Damon across the face. The hit was hard enough that knocked a few teeth loose; blood splattering on the ground.

“Niklaus. Temper.” Elijah all but sang. However, his eyes never left Damon. Caroline learned that while Klaus ran hot, his temper flying in his extreme Machiavellian plans while Elijah was as cold as the artic. She honestly did not know which was more terrifying. Klaus reached down and gripped Damon’s chin. Klaus looked him in the eye, bending down to him.

“I may be a monster, but I would never lay a hand on Caroline in the manner your brother did. You did the entire world a favor when you took him out. I wanted to kill him myself, but Caroline wanted to watch him die slowly. You gave her that.”

“Much better than the Bundt-cake pan you and Elena picked out as our wedding gift.” Caroline teased. Klaus wasn’t laughing or finding the situation humorous. He was still staring down at Damon. Elijah called at his brother, but Klaus wasn’t budging. Caroline walked over to Klaus and touched his arm; pulling his hand from Damon’s jaw. “You can end this. Now. Put a bullet in his brain and let us go home to our son.”

“Look at you.” Damon replied, spitting more blood onto the ground. “Talking a man into murder. Never thought you were capable of it.” Damon toyed. “Then again, I never thought you were capable of anything really.” Klaus hit Damon across the face again and Caroline could see the blood trickle down his pale skin. “Always the dumb blonde who was shallow and useless.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“He is baiting you Niklaus.” Elijah chimed in. He walked around the chair. He looked down at Damon and placed his hand on Klaus’s chest. “Let me have a word with Mr. Salvatore. You said your piece. You dangled Caroline in front of him; showing him exactly how you bested him. You’re not the only one who has a matter to settle with him.”

Klaus nodded and let go Damon’s chin. Instead, he linked his hand with Caroline’s and pulled her to him. He kissed the top of her head. Caroline rested her head on Klaus’s chest while Elijah pulled the chair Klaus was sitting in closer to Damon. He sat down and looked at Damon deeply; his gaze never wavering. Caroline was seeing Elijah the agent, the man who rose high in the FBI.

“When Kol was fifteen he got a little too drunk one night. Decided to hot wire a car and drove around New York and as expected he got into a car accident. Killed a young woman. A secretary for some financial firm. He was arrested and facing being tried as an adult for vehicular manslaughter. I was a young man in the FBI then but had high connections. I got Kol out of trouble. Cleaned up his mess.”

“Is there a point to this little story?”

“Brothers do anything for one another. I would do anything for Kol as I would Niklaus or Rebekah.” Elijah drawled. “While I could never imagine the pain, you must have felt seeing Stefan and Elena together. When you love someone and they betray you, it feels unforgivable.” He cocked his head. “If Niklaus or Kol betrayed me in such a manner. I still do not think I would have the ability to do what you did to your brother.”

“Your point?”

“We are all monsters here. Kol was. I myself have committed treason, murder, espionage and all manner of sins that will condemn my soul. Niklaus runs the largest criminal organization this city has ever seen and has more blood on his hands than even you do. My little sister, who on an occasion has convinced multiple wealthy men to hand over their fortunes to her, is no innocent.” There was a smile that graced his lips when he spoke of Rebekah. “Caroline, while her hands are not as bloody as ours, she too has darkness in her. My family are filled with monsters but none of us ever betrayed each other. Stefan betrayed you but you committed the ultimate betrayal when you took his life.”

“Spare me the lecture, twiddle dumb. If you’re going to kill me, just do it because your yammering is driving me insane.” Damon bit out. Caroline cocked her head to the side. She eyed Damon; something was off with him. The way his shoulders sagged and there was no spark in his eyes. His smirk was off. His voice was off. Everything about his was wrong.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Caroline asked. She moved away from Klaus and walked closer to Damon. Her eyes searched him, looking for some spark of humanity left; but she found nothing. While Stefan was a void of anything remotely good; beyond his feelings for Elena, Damon was the opposite. He put on a bravado but there were human emotions underneath it all. “You hate yourself. I should have seen it at the trial. You never spoke or defended yourself. You just sat there and let twelve people decide your fate. You didn’t even try. The Damon I knew would have blackmailed and bribed his way to freedom.”

“Get to the point Blondie.”

“You want to die.” Caroline said. “You want them to kill you.” Damon said nothing, unable to deny the truth. “You cannot live with yourself. You killed your own brother and your wife. You hate yourself for it. It’s why you did nothing to defend yourself or even try and find a way out of prison. The Damon I knew…. you’re not it.”

“You’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for.” Damon shook his head. “Kill me. You know you want to Caroline. I stood by and let Stefan beat you. How many times did he rape you? Because that is what it was, wasn’t it? You never wanted him. You laid for him because you had too. He told me that you fucked you the night he killed your mother. I laughed. I thought it was hilarious.”

Klaus attempted to lunge at him, but Elijah held him back.

“Brother, he is baiting you. I think Caroline has a point.”

“He wants us to kill him.” Klaus hissed. He thought about killing Damon since he found Kol’s body. His hate for the both of them only grew once his feelings for Caroline grew. “I say we give him what he wishes and send him to an unmarked grave to be forgotten.”

“No.” Caroline said; not tearing her eyes from him. “Let him live. Let him live everyday with the knowledge of what he did. Throw him in a cage and let him rot from the rest of his life. He does not deserve the mercy of an easy death. Kill him and he wins.”

“He knows to much Caroline. He could talk.” Elijah pointed out.

“Then cut out his tongue.” She turned to look at both Elijah and Klaus; both of whom looked at her like she lost her mind. “Cut out his tongue so he can’t speak. Mangle his hands so he cannot write. He will have nothing left beyond the memory of killing his brother and drowning his wife in the Hudson. He won’t be able to do anything else.”

Klaus stepped forward and looked at Caroline. His eyes held disbelief, wonder and lust all mixed into one. As though he couldn’t believe that she actually existed. After a moment, Klaus pulled Caroline to him and kissed her furiously. Not being able to help herself, she pressed her body into him. His hands roamed all over her body and she could feel the heat begin to pool between her legs.

“Niklaus. You’re getting distracted.” Elijah’s voice interrupted them.

“You’re a goddess.” Klaus stated as their lips broke apart, completely ignoring his brother. “I plan on rewarding you later.” That gleam and mischief were back, and Caroline could not help but giggle at seeing it. He pulled away from her and walked over to one of the crates. He picked up a crowbar that was leaning against a wooden crate. He wedged the crowbar underneath the lid of one and ripped it off. Sliding the slip end into a rusted nail, he pulled it from the wood. Turning towards the two agents, Klaus pointed at them. “Uncuff him and bring him to his knees.”

“Niklaus, what are you doing?” Elijah asked as the agents followed his brother’s command. Damon was uncuffed from his chair and fought the two agents, but they overpowered him easily. He was pushed down onto his knees.

“Following my girl’s command. What kind of lover would I be if I just ignored such a brilliant plan!” Klaus replied, an overexcited grin taking over his face. “Place his hand, palm up on the chair and hold him still.” The agents once again obeyed; forcing a Damon who was struggling to place his hand on the chair. Klaus walked up to him and placed the sharp end of the nail directly into his palm; digging in ever so slightly. He paused for a moment, raised the crowbar and brought it down onto the nail. The nail went directly into the palm of his hand; Damon screaming as he did so. Klaus repeated the action, over and over until Damon’s nailed was nailed to the chair.

“You’re probably going to give him tetanus using that nail.” Elijah stated, completely unfazed by the scene in front of him. Caroline winced slightly at every scream but didn’t look away. Damon was withering on his knees and appeared to be in extreme pain.

“Then he will have a very painful end.” Klaus replied. He slipped the split end of the crowbar into the nail again and leveraged it so it slid out of Damon’s hand. He repeated the action with another part of his hand before tossing the nail down to the ground. Klaus then brought the crowbar down onto Damon’s fingers with such force, Caroline could hear the bones cracking in his hand. “The other hand.”

Klaus repeated his actions, giving Damon’s other hand the exact same treatment. Once Klaus was done ruining Damon’s hands, Caroline knew that they would be no use to him anymore. No longer would he be able to write or hold the simplest of objects. They were completely mangled. The agents dropped him to the floor once Klaus tossed the crowbar to the side. Damon’s cries of pain turned into a whimper as he cradled his ruined hands to his chest.

“Are you done Niklaus?”

“Absolutely not. We still have the matter of his tongue to deal with.” Klaus stated, not caring that his white shirt now had blood spatters on it around the waistline. Caroline was already imaging how much bleach she would have to use to get the stains out; something he became very good at in the past few months. “Unless you would like to cut it out? I’m sure I can find some plyers in this place.”

Elijah sighed, contemplating and then took off his winter jacket. Caroline held out her hand and took the coat from him. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, slinging that over the other chair. Klaus, grinning like a maniac, pointed to one of the agents, commanding him to find him a set of plyers. Within minutes the agent returned and handed the pair of plyers to Elijah.

“Now, brother, while you take care of his tongue; I need to have word with my girl.” Klaus stated, pulling Elijah’s jacket from Caroline’s arms; tossing to lay with his suit jacket. “We will find you once you’ve completed the act. The lack of screams will be our signal.”

Klaus grabbed Caroline’s hand and pulled her away from the rest of the group. She looked over her shoulder to see Damon struggling in the agents’ arms while Elijah waited patiently for him to settle. They all fell out of sight when Klaus turned a corner and all Caroline could hear was Damon began to give a throaty scream. Klaus weaved them through crates of wooden boxes that Caroline was mentally taking inventory of; something she was going to actually be doing with in the coming weeks.

“Where are we going?”

“Through here.” Klaus pointed through a small opening in a cluster of crates and pulled her through. He turned to face her and immediately pulled her into a kiss. It was heated and passionate. Caroline pressed her body to his and she could feel his erection pressing into her stomach. She bit her lip and tried to not grin. “You are a goddess. That mind of yours, it is a wonder.”

“Well, it is my best feature.” She teased, blocking out Damon’s screams that echoed throughout the warehouse. Klaus allowed his hands to roam over her body and he gripped her behind, squeezing her buttocks; causing Caroline to squeal. “Klaus!”

“It was what made me fall in love with you.” He leaned down and kissed her again. Caroline wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His hands moved towards her winter coat and unbuttoned it. He pushed it off her shoulders and let it hit the ground. “Watching you order the mutilation of my enemy, it does things to me that I cannot explain. All I wanted to do was please you and then fuck you.”

“Then do it.” Klaus took her shoulders, turning her around and pushing her up against the wooden crates. Caroline braced herself, palms resting against the wood. He palmed her breasts through her shirt and pressed his clothed erection into her behind. He pressed his nose into her hair, inhaled before biting her ear. “Klaus.”

“You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” Klaus whispered in her air. His hand snuck his way under her shirt as his lips descended upon her neck. His free hand gripped her blonde hair and pulled her head to the side, giving him more access to her pulse point. His tongue peeked out and dragged it up the side of her neck. “Even after the last year and a half together, having Kol and you just being by my side, is not enough for me.”

“I’m yours.” Caroline breathed out in a throaty moan. Klaus pinched Caroline’s nipple through her bra causing her to hiss; pressing her behind into his erection harder. He groaned into her ear, thrusting his hips forward. “What did you like more? When I figured out that he wanted to die or when I told you to cut out his tongue.”

“Both.” Klaus hissed. His hand snaked down her abdomen to the top of her pants. He unbuttoned them, pulled down the zipper and yanked the pants down to her ankles. Caroline spread her legs enough to give Klaus access to her center. He ran his across her center, causing her to moan in delight. “Wet for me already. Tell me love, did you enjoy bossing me around? Commanding me, bending me to your will?” Klaus twirled the bundle of nerves on her clit while biting her neck. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I enjoyed it.” She whimpered. She reached behind her and palmed him through his pants. Klaus groaned at the contact, whispering her name in her ear. “I enjoyed taking control. I enjoyed seeing you in your element, hurting him. Hurting him because I told you to. I enjoyed the power I had but do you know what else I enjoy?” Caroline asked, causing Klaus to hum in her ear; his fingers still rubbing her clit. “I enjoy it when you fuck me. I enjoy it when you’re inside me and all I can feel is you, thrusting and pulsing until I fall apart.”

Not being able to take her teasing any longer, Klaus pulled at his belt buckle and pushed his pants down. He aligned himself with Caroline’s entrance, coating himself in her juices and pushed inside of her. They both cried out at the feel of them together. Slowly, Klaus withdrew before pushing back in. Over and over, Klaus thrusted into her.

Caroline’s screams echoed off the walls. Neither could hear the screaming occurring at the other end of the warehouse. They were so involved with their lovemaking that nothing else occurred to them. The sound of their skin slapping together, and their moans only caused Klaus to move faster. He grasped her hair and pulled her head back. Feeling the pull of her hair was enough to send Caroline over the edge.

Her orgasm rippled through her body; screaming Klaus’s name as she came. He continued to thrust into her while she fell over the edge. Knowing that Klaus was not near his peak yet, Caroline smirked. She pushed off the crate and Klaus, taken off guard, stumbled ever so slightly, slipping out of her as he went. Caroline turned and pushed him gently, causing his back to hit the crates on the other side of the wall.

Caroline grabbed his head and pulled him into a deep kiss; her nails trailing a small trail down his chest. Her kiss traveled from his lips to his jaw and then down his neck. She kissed his chest until he sunk down to his chest until she was on her knees. She was eye level with his penis and gave his one long lick.

“Christ Caroline.” Klaus hissed out, weaving his fingers through her hair. Caroline took Klaus into her mouth and began to bob up and down. She massaged his balls and Klaus’s fingernails dug into her scalp. His eyes rolled back into his head. It wasn’t long before Klaus found himself spilling into her throat; Caroline drinking it all. After she licked his penis one last time, Caroline stood and kissed Klaus on the lips, letting him taste their juices mixed together on her lips.

“If the two of you are done, Mr. Salvatore is being loaded up and transported to receive medical attention.” Klaus groaned in frustration. Caroline, blushing, bent down and pulled up her pants. Klaus tucked himself into his pants and picked up Caroline’s coat. He put it on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. They linked their hands together and they walked around the crates. Elijah was standing there, cleaning his hands of blood; ignoring the fact that his shirt was covered in it.

“I’m assuming that Damon Salvatore has become mute?” Klaus asked, appearing extremely pleased. She did not know if it was because he just won a war or the fact that he just got laid. Either way, Klaus was having a very good night.

“Yes. It was not exactly pleasant.”

“Oh, don’t be that way Elijah. You enjoyed it.”

“Let us leave. I have work in the morning.” Elijah replied and Caroline smiled. She was ready to go home. Tonight, put an end to a very long nightmare and Caroline felt as though they finally could get on with their lives. In that moment, all she wanted to do was go home to her son.

“Yes. Let’s go home.” Caroline smiled widely pulling on Klaus’s hand. “I want to see our son.”

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #caroline x klaus #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes

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creepingsharia · 5 years ago

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“I Never Thought We’d Face This Much Hatred”: Muslim Persecution of Christians, November 2019

by Raymond Ibrahim

Slaughter of Christians

Syria: On November 11, Islamic gunmen opened fire on a vehicle known to be carrying Christian leaders. Two Armenian priests, a father and son, were killed; a deacon was seriously wounded. ISIS claimed the murders of Father Abrahim Petoyan and Father Hovsep Petoyan. The Armenians were going to inspect repairs on an Armenian Catholic church that had been earlier damaged in Deir ez-Zor. “We continue to feel the presence of ISIS,” responded the Armenian Catholic Archbishop Boutros Marayati of Aleppo, adding that Deir ex-Zor “is a very important town for us, because it is there that many of our martyrs were killed as they fled the Turkish genocide of 1915. Today there are no Armenian Catholics left there. Undoubtedly, the Turks don’t want us to return, because our presence would be a reminder of the Armenian genocide.”

Turkey: On November 19, in the streets of the city of Diyarbakir, Korean evangelist Jinwook Kim, 41, was stabbed and later died from his injuries. A 16-year-old Muslim was later arrested. According to the report,

Kim had arrived in Diyarbakir with his family earlier this year and was pastoring a small community of Christians. The assailant stabbed Kim three times: twice in the heart, once in the back. Officials, however, claim that the incident occurred in an effort to steal Kim’s phone. Local believers urge the authorities to investigate the incident as an assassination, rather than an attempt at extortion. Kim was married and had one child, although his second is expected to be born in the coming days…. He had lived in Turkey for five years.

“This wasn’t just a robbery; they came to kill him,” insists another local Christian, who received a death threat the day after this incident:

We always get threats. A brother prophesied a few days ago that they (the government) are going to kick out these foreigners, and probably kill a few Turkish brothers. They are going to cause chaos. They know that I am trying to spread the Gospel, so they may target me too. This may be a sign.

Ethiopia: “Two Ethiopian pastors have been beheaded in Sebeta, near the capital Addis Ababa, in an outburst of violence against Christians” that erupted after a leading Muslim incited his supporters against the government over some supposed infraction against him. The report adds that “the situation on the ground has become quite challenging for Christians and many churches have been burnt this year. There is also an unverified report that a group of Christians has been forced out of the majority-Muslim town of Ginir, located 303 miles south-east of the capital.”

Nigeria: Muslim Fulani herdsmen continued their murderous raids on Christian communities. Two incidents were especially notable and identical. First, in the early hours of November 14, machete-wielding Muslim raiders hacked to death four Christians as they soundly slept in their bedrooms in Agban village, near Kagoro. All of the slain were farmers and members of the local church. Ten days later, on November 24, Muslim herdsmen attacked Agom, a Christian village in southern Kaduna state’s Sanga Country, around 4:30 a.m. There they hacked with machetes an 87-year-old Christian to death and shot another Christian in the head, killing him instantly. Both of the slain, regular churchgoers, had also been sleeping in their homes.

Cameroon: On November 6 in Moskota, Islamic militants connected with Boko Haram attacked a church where they killed David Mokoni, a retired pastor, as well as a hearing-impaired Christian boy; another pastor was shot in the leg. Afterwards the militants looted the church, taking even the pastors’ ceremonial robes. “Boko Haram has been stepping up its attacks on Christian villages in Far North Cameroon in an attempt to establish an Islamic caliphate from north-eastern Nigeria all the way to northern Cameroon,” the report says. This most recent attack follows a “brutal spate of attacks since late October, by gangs of up to 200 militants, [which] has left eight dead”: “The first of the attacks came on 30 October with the looting of six mainly-Christian villages in Mayo Sava district…. On 31 October, five people were hacked to death when militants armed with axes, knives and wooden clubs stormed the village of Kotserehé. A sixth wounded man later died from his injuries.” Rebecca, a witness, described the slaughter of a boy in Kotserehé: “He was a 15-year-old adolescent. He was so deeply asleep in his bed that he didn’t hear any of the noise around him. They thrust the blade of the axe so deeply into his skull, to the point we had to use a hammer to get it out of his head.” Many Christians have been displaced by these ongoing attacks and live in “extreme misery,” added another local: “This is beyond persecution. It is a dramatic situation, plunging thousands of families into a deplorable humanitarian crisis.”

Pakistan: Muslim bakers murdered a teenage Christian coworker and police are covering it up, alleged Sarwar Masih, the father of Akash Masih, the slain 18-year-old: “My son was an expert at baking and making shawarma and burgers” and his “expertise was liked by the customers.” As a result, “he faced discrimination and religious jealousy at his workplace. He often complained about the unfavorable situation at the bakery, but he continued working to help his family.” One day the bakery called the father and said his son was sick and sent to a hospital. Sarwar rushed there only to learn that his son had already died. When he contacted police, the bakery threatened him and police were unresponsive, claiming that his son had “committed suicide,” even though signs of torture were visible on his neck and back. “These are delaying tactics to defuse the evidences against the culprits,” Sarwar last reported: “Christians face hatred and discrimination even after their death.”

Separately, on November 16, an armed Muslim mob attacked and drove out the Christian families of a small village in Lahore. One Christian teenage girl, Sonia Sarwar, was killed and six others were seriously injured in the riot. “The attack was aimed at displacing around ten Christian families from this area,” Nazir Masih, whose legs were wounded in the attack, explained: “Arshad Kambho, an influential Muslim, wants to grab the property of the Christians.” Since 2015, Kambho had been trying to steal the Christians’ land; he took them twice to courts and twice the courts ruled in favor of the Christians. “Since then, Kambho has been creating disputes with the Christians to damage them and drag them into an allegation,” said another local.

Attacks on Christian Churches

Syria: On November 11—the same day that two Armenian priests were killed in a hail of bullets (see above)—three car bombings occurred in the city of Qamishli, which holds a significant Christian population. One of the bombs detonated near a Chaldean church and killed at least six civilians, as well as damaging the church building; another detonated near an Assyrian Christian owned market, and a third detonated near a Catholic school. All were claimed by ISIS.

Egypt: On Friday, November 1, a fire broke out in a Coptic church in Shubra. According to the report, “The fire had started at around 8:30am close to the church theatre hall, in a building adjacent to the church itself. Anba Makary, Bishop of South Shubra, was then officiating Mass on the ground floor for persons with disabilities. They were all safely evacuated.” In the preceding two weeks, two other churches were torched in October. Police concluded that the fires in all three cases were due to electrical malfunctions. Christians argued otherwise, indicating that arson was responsible.

Separately, the civil council of the village of Neda ordered the church of St. George to remove its bell tower, in keeping with Islamic law. The church, fearing that this is just the first warning of a downward spiral to closure, made a direct appeal to President Sisi. According to the November 17 report,

[T]he actual construction of the church has been a slow process. It was originally established in 1911, but it didn’t receive building permits until 2006. Because the village Christians are poor, construction has been slow. They are afraid that the village extremists will stop them from continuing construction without the intervention of the President. Churches are a contentious subject in Egypt, which is an officially Islamic country. The construction of churches is tightly regulated by the state…

Pakistan: A Muslim mob demolished a wall and the front door of a Catholic church in the Punjab on the pretext that it was not formally registered. However, according to church member Naseer Masih, “Muslims do not want the church in the village because they have bad feelings towards Christians.” The report explains:

“On 4 November 50 policemen arrived in front of the [church] gate and asked Catholics if they had ever had problems praying in church. Christians have responded that they had never had difficulties. Meanwhile, a crowd of 60 people gathered to bring a tractor and hammers. With the tractor they knocked down the door, then the Muslims completed the destruction with hammers.”

Police just stood by and watched. “[W]e had no warning from the police before the accident,” said Naseer. “The Muslims carried out the destruction and the policemen did nothing against them. This means that they are on their side…. We have prepared all the documents,” he added, concerning the legality of the modest and now ruined church that was built in 2007.

Turkey: According to a November 21 report, “Turkey’s Council of State, the country’s highest administrative court, has recently approved changing the historic Chora Greek Orthodox Church located in Istanbul, currently a museum, into a mosque”:

Commentators say that sets the legal precedent for transforming Hagia Sophia, the very symbol of Byzantine and Orthodox Christianity, which is also currently an official museum, back into a mosque…. The interior of the [Chora] church, which was originally built as part of a monastery complex outside the walls of Constantinople, is covered with some of the oldest and finest surviving Byzantine mosaics and frescoes.

Chora Church’s uniquely old and surprisingly intact artwork was first made in 1315—over a century before the Turkish invasion and conquest of Constantinople in 1453—and includes images such as of Joseph and Mary (above). All these historically precious frescoes are set to be destroyed in the church’s transformation into a mosque.

France: On Sunday, November 3, a statue of St. Bernadette in the chapel of the St. Florent hermitage in Oberhaslach was found beheaded. Because two churches are reportedly violated every day in France, this bit of vandalism attracted little attention. According to PI-News, 1,063 attacks on Christian churches or symbols (crucifixes, icons, statues) were registered in France in just 2018. A separate January 2017 study revealed that “Islamist extremist attacks on Christians” in France—which holds one of Europe’s largest Muslim populations—rose by 38 percent, going from 273 attacks in 2015 to 376 in 2016; the majority occurred during Christmas season and “many of the attacks took place in churches and other places of worship.” Unsurprisingly, the parish where the beheaded statue was found suffered an arson attack the year before.

General Hate for and Abuse of Christians

Norway: A group of Muslims beat, robbed, and threatened to kill a Christian evangelist if he did not convert to Islam. According to the report, Roar Fløttum was “preaching the gospel and praying for the sick” on November 27, following a prayer meeting in the church he attends in Trondheim, when he encountered a group of Muslim men. During their conversation, the Muslims indicated that they had physical pains and injuries. Fløttum offered to pray for them, they accepted, and he complied. They said they felt better and urged him to go with them and pray for another of their friends who was also suffering from a foot injury. Fløttum went. “They were very nice and I couldn’t believe they would deceive me,” he later explained. They took him to a backyard, pushed him down a cellar staircase, and began to beat and kick him in the face. They kept him hostage there for about an hour, robbed him of his credit cards and about a thousand kroner (equivalent to about $108 USD). “While they kept me there, they threatened me and said they would kill me if I did not convert to Islam,” recalled the Norwegian. “They wanted me to say some words in Arabic [likely the shahada, “There is no god but Allah and Muhammad is the messenger of Allah,” which, when recited before Muslim witnesses, makes the reciter a Muslim]. I was scared and actually thought they were going to kill me because they said they had a knife and didn’t want witnesses.”

Egypt: A knife-wielding Muslim man stabbed a Christian family—consisting of a mother and her two sons—and left one of the sons in critical condition. The incident occurred on the evening of Sunday, November 17, in Minya. When the Muslim man saw the family sitting outside their home, as is customary in Egypt, he began yelling at them to go back inside. When the older son refused to comply, the man, identified variously as “Ali,” or “Muhammad” went to his nearby home and returned with a knife. He lunged at the family, stabbing the mother in the head, slicing the younger brother’s face, and stabbing the older brother several times in the gut (images here). A separate report adds that, “Last year, Mohammed attacked another Christian man with a cleaver…. He is known to hate Christians.” “We can’t get back to the village,” one of the sons last reported. “Right now, we try to avoid fights and disputes with them. The extremists’ family live in a house which is not far away from us. We will not let them induce us to fight them or anything like that. If we did something like that, we will lose our rights to punish the extremist. We want law enforcement.”

Uganda: On November 10, Muslim relatives of a Christian father of four young children poisoned and almost killed him for leaving Islam. Ronald Rajab Nayekuliza, 48, had converted earlier and proceeded to build a church and raise pig livestock. His brothers, already angered by his conversion, responded by building a mosque near the church, while local Muslims regularly hurled stones at the church during Sunday worship. Next, his older brother, Anus Wako, began sending threatening messages: “You rearing pigs is against the faith of our father. We are from a Muslim family, and our father did not allow the keeping of pigs. While our father was still alive, you were a Muslim; that is why he gave you land to live in, not for the construction of the church. Our family has become a laughingstock to our Muslim neighbors.” Then, on the morning of November 8, Ronald found six of his piglets slaughtered: “I knew it must be my brothers; that really confirmed my earlier fears. My brothers had threatened me with witchcraft as well as receiving curses from Allah. This has made me live in great fear of my life and that of my family.” Two days later he attended a memorial for his father, where his brothers and other local Muslims were gathered. Before leaving, Ronald told his pregnant wife that “he was feeling a kind of nausea,” she said. “Immediately he started to vomit, then followed by diarrhea, with fever and complaining of abdominal pain.” They rushed him to a hospital, where he lost consciousness. After doctors confirmed that he had been poisoned with a pesticide, police were sent to the brothers’ home: “When the four brothers saw the police vehicle, two of them fled,” a Christian local said. “The police arrested two brothers, Anus Wako and Kalipan Waswa, who were released on bond after four days.” Ronald spent more than a week recovering in the hospital. “My husband is better but still very weak, with blurry vision and feeling numbness in his body,” his wife last reported.

Pakistan: On November 10, Muslim arsonists reportedly torched a Christian home in Al-Noor town. Witnesses saw two motor cyclists who had attended a nearby Islamic rally hurl a packet near where the house first caught fire. “The fire was extremely hot and it melted the stuff inside,” Manzoor Masih, the father of the family explained:

It looks like they used some chemical which turned all the stuff into ashes within no time. The fire damaged beds, mattresses, furniture, trunks, cloths, crookery, fans, computers, the UPS, and the entire electric system…. For the last six months, different groups keep [sic] pressuring my family to leave this neighborhood and go to a Christian settlement. However, we never gave into their threats…. I never thought we would face this much hatred for not selling our house. It’s really heartbreaking and disappointing for a Christian living in this country…

Turkey: A recreational facility in the town of Dargeçit which is being referred to as the “Nation’s Garden” is, it was revealed in November, being built atop the graves of Christian and Armenian Christians—both of whom were victims of the 1915 genocide by Ottoman Turkey. “Is it now the turn of our deceased?” responded Evgil Türker, chairperson of the Federation of the Syriac Associations: “This mustn’t happen; we strongly condemn it… Of course, this event reminded us of the past. There had been similar cases in the past…. [T]his is looting. This is proof that the deceased of others [meaning non-Muslims] are not respected…. [T]his mentality has to be stopped.”

Egypt: In order to silence him, a Christian activist and social media blogger who exposes the plight of his coreligionists was arrested and falsely charged with “terrorism.” In response, the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom (USCIRF) issued a statement in which it “strongly condemns” Egypt’s treatment of Ramy Kamel:

Mr. Kamel is an activist and prominent member of the Maspero Youth Union, advocating for full civil rights for Egypt’s Coptic Christian community and documenting abuses against its members. On November 23, National Security Agency officers stormed his home; confiscated his mobile phone, laptop, and other belongings related to his advocacy work; and took him into custody. One day later, the Supreme State Security Prosecution announced a series of spurious charges against Mr. Kamel, including membership in a terrorist organization, spreading false information, and disturbing the public order.

USCIRF Vice Chair Nadine Maenza elaborated:

USCIRF calls on the Egyptian government to immediately release Mr. Kamel from detention and dismiss the preposterous charges against him. His arrest casts doubt on the sincerity of Egypt’s promises of working toward greater religious freedom; Egypt cannot pledge improved rights and freedoms for Copts and other non-Muslim communities, while at the same time bringing false charges against its own citizens who are advocating for those same reforms.

The USCIRF statement concludes with relevant background information:

Egypt’s Coptic Christians represent the single largest non-Muslim community in the Middle East, likely comprising 10-15 percent of the country’s population of over 100 million. Despite their integral role in Egyptian society and history, they have long faced discrimination and periodic violence for their faith. In its 2019 Annual Report, USCIRF found that although the Egyptian government has made some modest progress toward legalizing informal churches around the country and improving public discourse about Coptic rights, it has taken few steps toward systematically improving religious freedom conditions for vulnerable Christian populations, particularly in rural areas.

Pakistan: The only Christian journalist registered with the Lahore Press Club finally resigned after years of harassment and discrimination from her Muslim coworkers. Gonila Gill, 38, covered the persecution of minorities since 2002. In 2014 she married a Muslim journalist, while remaining Christian. The harassment began in earnest soon thereafter. Her coworkers “told me that I would never get pregnant until I converted,” while her husband was accused of being an “infidel.” She finally quit, “owing to the mental torture her colleagues put her through from not converting to Islam” notes a November 19 report. “Speaking to the media, Gill said people are vile, but no matter what she will not lose faith in her religion.”

Raymond Ibrahim, author of the new book, Sword and Scimitar, Fourteen Centuries of War between Islam and the West, is a Distinguished Senior Fellow at the Gatestone Institute, a Shillman Fellow at the David Horowitz Freedom Center, and a Judith Rosen Friedman Fellow at the Middle East Forum.

About this Series

The persecution of Christians in the Islamic world has become endemic. Accordingly, “Muslim Persecution of Christians” was developed in 2011 to collate some—by no means all—of the instances of persecution that occur or are reported each month. It serves two purposes:

1) To document that which the mainstream media does not: the habitual, if not chronic, persecution of Christians.

2) To show that such persecution is not “random,” but systematic and interrelated—that it is rooted in a worldview inspired by Islamic Sharia.

#Legal #Islam #Muslim #Sharia #Jihad #News #Politics #Religion #Media #Travel #Persecution

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secretsantasides · 5 years ago

Text

Gift #8: My Universe

Gift for @enby-fander

Prompt: Analogical High School AU

My Universe

Characters: Logan, Deceit (called Daniel), Virgil, mentions of Remus, mentions of Patton

Pairings: Romantic Analogical, Platonic Loceit, Brotherly Anxciet, implied Brotherly Logicality

Warnings: Alludes to homelessness and poverty, sad boi Virgil

Summary: Thank you to the two anons who showed up on @enby-fander's account and gave me major inspiration right when I needed it. Here you go, Trans Virgil and Nonbinary Logan that starts as angst and ends as fluff.

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As the rest of Kingston High School's sophomores rushed into the cafeteria, Daniel Hyde instead ducked through an out-of-the-way, yet familiar, pair of dark, wooden, though probably fake wood, double doors. His head was down as he stalked over to the Fiction section, deliberately searching. For what, bystanders had no clue.

They parted, anxious to induce the wrath of Dan, a boy rumoured to be in a gang. None of them would put such a thing past the punk boy. He wasn't someone to mess with.

He walked with such a determination that they knew he was on the hunt. His prey? Another, hidden from all but him.

Logan Jekyll was seated in the middle of the mystery section, shrouded in darkness. The junior knew these shelves well, so much so that they could traverse them without requiring sight. That way, they had no reason to flick the switches at the start of each row to the "on" position, which would illuminate the row of dim fluorescent bulbs dangling above. Logan liked it better in the dark, anyway. It hid the introvert from those pesky freshmen. The ones who liked to taunt Logan for some unknown reason.

"Oh look, it's genius Jekyll. Aren't you the one with the ridiculously high GPA? Highest in your year?"

They gave a quick, curt nod to both questions, not speaking. Instead, they continued to read their book, turning the page after a few seconds of silence.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was most definitely living up to the praise they had heard it received, primarily by the Hyde brothers. Daniel had always pressed them to read it, so they had finally began the novel.

As they read, laughs were heard. The rowdy students had become bored with the junior and had stampeded away towards the computers. Logan never understood what they seemed to find so funny.

"Hey, first chair Jekyll, heard you got the solo for the next concert."

When they nodded, quick and curt, the group started laughing yet again. All the way over to the doors. Probably after they walked out the doors, too.

Logan recognized someone in that mob as the sophomore who liked to raise hell during rehearsal, along with a few trumpet players, a bassoon, and half of percussion. He brought the baritone horn section down considerably, even with Logan there to counterbalance his pure idiocy. And to think, this kid is laughing at him. Sheer stupidity, all of it.

"Jekyll, my man, the reason our debate team isn't shit. You're captain, right? Who's second, in your book?"

At the first question, they nodded. At the second, they scowled and looked back at his book. They did have an opinion on who would fall second, but that opinion was not owed to a group of freshmen who loiter around and taunt others. Seeing the spectacle-wearing one's scowl, the boys laughed. Turning and walking away, they kept on snickering and joking about "perfect Jekyll."

'Our debate team? You mean, my debate team.' Logan recognized none of those dumbasses as members of debate, especially not the one who initiated the conversation. He would be debating things when pigs flew.

"I found Jekyll, man of the hour. Nice speech you gave, didn't realize you could do that. Thought only seniors could."

They shook their head "no" at the statement, causing them to… big surprise… laugh at them.

At least they're eloquent enough to make a speech. These people could barely string together simple sentences, let alone write with enough skill to compose a speech at the level Logan did so at.

"Hey guys, here's Dr. Jekyll. Heard you finally found your Mr. Hyde, and you're terribly in love."

They scowled, otherwise ignoring all of them. That narrative wasn't even fitting to Robert Louis Stevenson's original story. In the end, it was revealed that Dr. Henry Jekyll and Mr. Edward Hyde were one and the same, a relationship they and their boyfriend do not possess.

"What, don't want to admit that you're gay as f*ck for Hyde?"

The scowl already adorning their features intensified some, but that was the only indicator of how pissed Logan truly was. Lacking a reaction, the group turned and walked away, laughing as they went.

Did they owe them an explanation of their love life? No, they should f*ck off. It's their damn significant other, not theirs. They were thinking of multiple profanities that could describe those idiots, but decidedly did not execute them aloud. Their choices would make probably Remus Kingston proud, a boy who has an alphabet of swear words, an alphabet that only skims the surface of his cursing dictionary.

As Logan sat there, reminiscing about how much of an asshole all of those freshmen were, Dan was slowly honing down his search radius.

He had visited most of Logan's normal rows, besides mystery and parts of nonfiction. As he walked to non-fiction, he stopped abruptly and turned to walk down the row of mystery novels. Logan truly adored the who-dunits covering these shelves, or so he's heard. He may have good luck looking here, as long as his brother knew Jekyll well. Dan was certain he did.

Don't fail me now, nerd, I need you, he thought, breathing deeply.

He strolled casually into the aisle, flicking the switch at the start of the row. The dim fluorescent lining the ceiling flickered on, revealing exactly what he was looking for. Exactly who he was looking for. Logan Jekyll.

Logan hissed at the sudden lights, sparking a chuckle from the sophomore stalking towards him. They looked up, blue-green eyes meeting grey.

There was an amused smirk adorning the boy's features. Logan did not mirror the expression, but they were nonetheless glad to see the sophomore.

"Didn't realize us Hyde's had made an impression on you. Not surprised, though, with how much you see my brother."

The one clad in blue blushed a deep red at the mention of their boyfriend. Daniel laughed at the sight, before offering out his hand. Logan looked down at the palm obscured by black, fingerless gloves, bewildered as to why the other was putting his hand out. Their confusion showed, causing Dan to roll his eyes and huff.

"Take my hand, Calculator Watch, I'm helping you up. That sorry excuse for carpeting is stale as f*ck, so we might as well go sit somewhere more comfortable."

Reliasition flashed before Logan's eyes as they muttered an, "Ah." Their hand took the other's gloved one, allowing the younger boy to hoist the older off of the matted, black carpet. They now were roughly at eye-level with each other, Logan with a solid height of 5'5" and Daniel being just a half or full inch shorter.

Daniel ran one hand through his slicked back black hair, shoving the other in one pocket of his faded leather jacket. The hand brushing the hair joined the other in the pocket opposite.

"Now, Jekyll, we have a pressing matter to discuss."

The two walked in silence for a while, Daniel leading them through the hallways. Suddenly, he took a left into a classroom, Logan following behind.

The classroom was abandoned, obviously having been used as a science room at one point. There were posters adorning two of the walls, saying things like "Eat, sleep, science, repeat."

"We need to talk about my brother."

Panic flashed in the eyes of Logan, who hid the emotion quickly. Dan wouldn't have noticed if Logan had not coughed directly afterwards, drawing attention to their still shell-shocked expression

The older of the two anxiously scuffed one of their NASA-themed Vans across the linoleum tiles, before looking back at the aforementioned boy.

"Go on."

"Well, he has refused to leave his room for the past 5 days, so I wanted to ask you for…"

He hesitated, but Logan pushed him on.

"For what? Spit it out, Hyde."

Daniel coughed, before regaining his composure.

"I need your help, Jeyll. I need your f*cking help. You're the only person I know that can do anything to get my brother out of his hiding space, and that's all I care about. I'm willing to put aside our indifferences if it helps my brother. Now, tell me, will you?"

"So, what am I supposed to do again?"

The two were walking to the apartment the Hyde brothers shared.

Daniel cleared his throat. "You're supposed to get that bastard to emerge from the cave he has made out of his room. This may be a habit of his, but it has gone on longer than normal, which concerns me."

Logan chuckled. "Sounds like him, alright. At least I now know for certain you and I are talking about the same person."

Dan burst out, "Finally! Someone understands how antisocial that motherf*cker can be!"

He gestured dramatically to emphasize the point.

The older's face morphed into a grin and they began to laugh.

"Hey!" they said, through their laughter, "That's my boyfriend you're talking about!"

Daniel snorted.

"He's my brother! I'm allowed to call him an antisocial bastard."

The pair's laughter tapered off as they continued their trek.

"May I ask how far away your apartment is?"

Daniel coughed, shifting a bit awkwardly.

"Um… it's still a few minutes away, but we're heading up on it."

Logan cocked an eyebrow.

"Y'all live in the downtown area?" they asked.

Dan stayed silent, but nodded.

"My apologies for pushing the subject."

The pair had arrived at the place Daniel pointed them towards, a run-down, dirty-looking, crowded apartment building. Dan stopped multiple times before they arrived, obviously completing a routine.

First, he stopped by an older woman, who was walking across the sparsely filled parking lot with a cart. In the cart, canned food resided, all of which had a small message written on them in Sharpie.

As he reached her, Daniel pressed a can of food he procured from the pocket of his black backpack into her hands.

Logan heard her murmur, "God bless you, honey. You and your brother stay safe, alright Danny?"

They saw Dan give a warm smile towards her. "We will. Stay safe, Mrs. Cunningham."

Secondly, he waved to a group of little boys running in the lot, kicking a ball around. The one who had the ball kicked it towards Daniel, grinning brightly.

"Mr. Hyde!" the other boys shouted, having just spotted the teenager.

"Now what have I always told y'all? Call me Dan."

"Okay, Mr. Dan!" the boys chorused.

Daniel rolled his eyes, ruffling the hair of one. "I give up, y'all obviously are gonna be respectful at all times."

He paused, before clearing his throat.

"That's a good thing, boys. Respect everyone, even if it doesn't seem like they deserve it. Just gotta respect everyone."

The last part was murmured.

The boys all nodded vigorously, before one shouted, "First one to the tree over there gets to pick teams!"

They all sprinted, leaving Dan and Logan to chuckle.

"Kids, right?"

Daniel gave a half-moon smile. "Yeah."

The last stop before the Hyde apartment was at the front desk of the lobby. It could barely be considered a lobby, more like a room with a desk shoved in the corner, some assorted furniture in the other, and stairs to the upper floors. Daniel stepped up to the desk, pulling a sheet of folded notebook paper out of his jacket pocket. He set it on the desk before turning around and smoothing the worn-leather of his jacket. He popped the collar, looking Logan in the eyes.

"Let's go, Jekyll."

"Apartment 7C, correct?"

The pair had just arrived at floor 7, both out of breath. Daniel hid it better, though.

"...Yes," he composed himself, looking at the junior with a look of annoyance.

They strolled down the hall, stopping just short of the end.

APARTMENT 7C read a small, dirty plaque mounted just above the doorknob.

Dan proccured an equally rusty key from his back jean pocket. He turned to Logan and said, "Let's go get my bastard of a brother out of his damn slump."

The pair walked into the mess of an apartment, Daniel shouting out a quick, "I'm home!" to ease the other Hyde's anxieties. Though, the shouting may be contradictory, as the older Hyde brother was not a fan of loud noises.

Daniel quickly dropped the key on a rickety table close by to the door. His combat boots were shed, as Logan kicked off his Vans.

Dan turned to Logan, directing him towards his brother.

"Down the hall, first door to the left. It'll be locked, so… here."

He grabbed a penny from the counter and threw it to Logan. They caught it with ease, studying the coin. They looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Our locks are garbage, so this should get it easy. I would've done it myself earlier this week, but I believe in the sanctitiy of one's room. That is, until you're in there for almost a week."

Logan nodded, turning to follow the instructions given.

Dan stopped them.

"I don't think he wants to see me, so I'll stay back. Jekyll, get my brother. Please."

He sounded almost desperate, so Logan obliged.

They found the door indicated easily, as there was a galaxy-patterned poster in blues and purples attached to the door with Scotch tape. It just seemed… right.

They jangled the knob a bit, discovering it was unsurprisingly locked. Logan took the penny, shoved it into the flat indentation on the rusty knob, turning slowly and carefully. It worked. The door was now unlocked.

Logan turned the handle, quickly entering the dark room. They heard a hoarse voice, dull due to lack of use, emitate from the corner.

"L-eave m-e the hell alon-e."

A throat was cleared, a few coughs ringing through the silence of the room.

"I'm fine."

Logan huffed, rumbling for the light switch mounted on the wall next to them.

Their hand knocked the switch up, prompting a hiss from the figure huddled in a corner.

"I thought you would be happier to see me. I assume I was wrong."

The figure looked up, revealing messy purple hair, tired and unfocused eyes, and a miserable expression adorning the features Logan would always find beautiful.

"Stella?"

"It's me, nebulosa."

Logan looked around the room.

It was very… Virgil.

He had a few band posters on the walls, hoodies with patches and stitching and a worn leather-jacket (much like Daniel's) hanging in the closet alongside his school-issued letterman's jacket, a black guitar propped up nicely in a corner, a chair that looked similar to those in the small dining room set with his low-quality music stand, band folder, and the large, bulky case of a euphonium put aside carefully, and a few trophies and certificates earned for track, for musical achievements, or for academic accomplishments were set on the dresser or hung on the wall above it. Everything was in black and deep purple, with subtle hints of navy.

They liked the color scheme a lot, as it was quite pleasing to the eye.

Much better than their brother's mixture of bright and pastel blues, all light in tone. Patton really didn't know how to mix colors.

Logan's attention was diverted, however, from the room surrounding them when they heard sniffles from Virgil's corner.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

Virgil wiped his eyes, acting as though he wasn't just crying.

"I'm just over-emotional, I guess. Damn it, peri-"

He stopped himself, a look of shock adorning his features. Logan looked upon him with a look of pity, sad-smile creeping onto their features.

"Is that why you've been isolating yourself, babe? Hey, hey, come here."

Virgil shook his head. "I'm fine," he said stubbornly.

Logan walked over to him, wrapping their arms around him.

"It's okay, stella. ...I love you."

Virgil gave a weak smile.

"I love you too, Logan."

#fanfic #secretsantasides #analogical #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #high school au #sanders sides

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teruteruki · 6 years ago

Text

MP100 Analysis: Teru’s Sexuality

(Honestly, “Teru’s Sexuality” isn’t what I really wanted to title this, but it was the simplest one I could think of. This analysis mostly focus on Teruki’s feelings for Kageyama and his gay coding. So I guess the extended title would be “MP100 Analysis: Teruki’s Romantic Orientation and His Feelings Towards Mob,” but that one doesn’t roll off the tongue as well.)

Okay, well, it took me a week to prepare for this, but here it is! I apologize for the long wait. Here are some ground rules:

1. I will only be using manga pictures. I am aware of the official art and the anime adding extra scenes. However, the canoncity (canonness?) of such material could be debated since it’s not the source material, but instead derived from it. I don’t want to face debates on me using faulty evidence.

2. Since I am using the manga, there will be HEAVY manga spoilers. Not slight such as “oh, Teru oogles Mob during this arc,” but MAJOR things such as screencaps of the last few arcs. If you’re okay with that, then good! But if you haven’t read the manga, I highly suggest you do that first. (AND that you read it from the beginning!)

3. While I am doing this because I personally believe Teru is gay, please do not take this post as fact/canon. I don’t want this to cause any drama in the fandom. It’s all for fun after all! And on that note, I don’t mind seeing everyone else’s takes on this.

4. As I was writing this I realized that I used “Kageyama” instead of “Mob.” So just to specify: “Kageyama” only refers to Shigeo. “Ritsu” is, well, Ritsu.

With that out of the way, the analysis is under the cut!

I’m planning to cover all aspects of why I believe Teru is gay. For that reason, I’ll be splitting things up into sections. (Otherwise, it’d just be one big jumble of words.) First section

Attachment.

After Teru’s first defeat, we can clearly see that he’s fixated on Kageyama. Which...in itself is peculiar. He loses a fight to some amazing psychic, has a fever for 3 days, and yet is immediately able to look past it? Hmm...

He has almost immediately adopted Kageyama’s ideals and is even trying to act on them. As soon as he sees Ritsu, he steps in and tries to change the other’s mindset. Just like Kageyama did for him.

There’s also the image of the shining light in the dark. I believe this is a metaphor for Kageyama. It’s clear that Teruki holds him to higher expectations than, really, anyone else, and would definitely see him as a “light,” so to say. This especially works considering Teruki’s speech about “being the light vs being in the light” from when we first met him.

This is a good display of Teruki is already fixated on Kageyama despite not seeing him again.

Then, there is the Ritsu kidnapping arc.

Teruki tries to come along when Kageyama is planning to save his brother. You could argue that it’s only because Kageyama didn’t have a plan ready, but that begs the question as to why Teru should care so much. He has met Ritsu once and said interaction wasn’t exactly under good intentions. This is simply Teru taking an interest in the things Kageyama cares about.

However, there is also his “explanation” for coming along.

But we all know that Teru doesn’t need Kageyama’s help to defeat a group of Claw members. He did it before when he was younger and less experienced. What would stop him from doing it now?

There is also the fact that after Dimple pointed out that Teruki’s help wasn’t much, Teru then went out of his way to refuse financial support among other things. He wanted to do this with Kageyama alone. That’s something that, easily, could be interpreted as an attempt to impress the other.

Teruki has also gone out of his way to track down/talk to Kageyama several times.

The first time there was a viable excuse - he needed to talk to Kageyama about the “fake White T Poison.” However, the other two times he simply wanted to be around Kageyama.

(During this scene, Kageyama was going out shopping. Nothing exactly was wrong, Teru just decided to talk to him.)

(At this time, Teru seemed to simply pick Kageyama out from a crowd again, and partly because the boy was upset. Which - if not due to Teru’s “need” to be close to Kageyama - is due to another point I have.)

Protectiveness

Teru is needlessly protective of Kageyama. Both physically and emotionally.

When Kageyama was panicking over Ritsu’s kidnapping, Teruki didn’t just let him go. But why? Kageyama is one of the strongest psychics he knows. He could most definitely just take down claw with the amount of power he has. Surely the “structure” doesn’t matter.

He also goes out of his way to stick to what Kageyama wants, and even Dimple says that it’s thoughtful. And as we all know, Teru is great at plans and strategy. If he wanted to, he could devise a plan on his own. The only reasons for him letting Kageyama takeover is to: make him happy, see more of his talent, and to make sure Teru sticks to his ideals.

It also speaks to how much Teruki has changed from the beginning. He used to insist that he was the main character, and now here he is, following behind instead of taking the lead. Amazing how just one guy could change him so much.

Teruki continues to take Kageyama’s feelings into account during the entire kidnapping arc. He does it to the point where it slightly inhibits their chances of escape.

Having three psychics to take on the Claw members would help tremendously, but immediately after seeing Kageyama’s worried expression, he backtracks and says they can fight without Ritsu.

And then, after seeing Kageyama unconscious, he starts to panic.

Part of this panic can be explained by Teruki’s shock. He sees Kageyama as some impossible opponent, so the assumption that a Claw member was able to defeat him is possibly earth-shattering. However, that doesn’t exactly explain the clear, genuine relief Teru shows when Kageyama wakes up.

Part of it must be his protectiveness.

Then, during the World Domination arc, Teru actually pleads for Kageyama to turn out alright.

And lastly, during the Final arc, he outright says that he can and will protect Kageyama. (Not to mention that this was after an attempt to comfort Kageyama, because Teru knew something was wrong.)

At the very least, it’s easy to see that Teru cares about Kageyama.

Reactions

A weird subtitle, I know, but I’m referring to how Teruki reacts differently to things concerning Kageyama than to anything else. A good example of this is when Ritsu started to cry. Teru didn’t react at all. He was uninterested, really.

But earlier, when Ritsu and Kageyama were reconciling, he looked blatantly happy.

Same for when Kageyama first woke up. (Posted earlier.)

There was a similar occurrence when they first infiltrated Claw, as well. Teruki was distracted with staring at Kageyama and didn’t notice an enemy until the guy was only a few feet behind him.

And then there’s the time Kageyama mentioned he was getting popular. Teruki’s reaction is vastly different from Ritsu’s.

Ritsu straight up cries tears of joy. He’s happy that his brother is finally getting the recognition he deserves.

But Teruki visibly stops. You could claim it’s because he knows Kageyama isn’t actually popular, but there’s no way to be sure. He hasn’t seen what Kageyama’s school life is like, so he wouldn’t know if girls are actually staring or not. If anything, he believes what Kageyama is saying and seems slighty disappointed.

(He then proceeds to say Kageyama is handsome. Do I even need to touch on that?)

And then we head into the Divine Tree arc. Ironically, I think Teruki’s true feelings shine the most while he’s under hypnosis.

Right off the bat, we know its Teruki’s true feelings because Dimple tells us so. And Dimple has no reason to lie. That’s what this arc is about - 100% truth.

The wording here is something that sticks out. Their relationship, not friendship, not rivalry. In Teru’s eyes, their relationship is either doesn’t fit those labels or is more complicated than that. This makes perfect sense under the premise that Teruki has romantic feelings for Kageyama.

And then, as the arc continues, Teruki keeps putting Kageyama before the Divine Tree.

The focus of the hypnosis is that everyone will put the Divine Tree first. The Tree is supposed to be important enough to them that, apparently, if Kageyama agreed to be the co-founder, it would instantly give him Tsubomi’s love. And yet here we can see that even though Teru is actively fighting over it, the Tree is still an afterthought when he’s talking.

And when Teru is blasted away, we once again see that Kageyama is his priority.

Not even hypnosis could stop his strong feelings.

(And at this time I’d like to say that yes, Dimple said Teru felt respect, but there’s no way to be certain about that. The only one that knows what he felt at that time is himself.)

And finally, the notorious panel set during the epilogue.

Everyone else is seen actively engaging and teasing Kageyama about his crush, but Teruki avoids the conversation. And there is, honestly, no other explanation that makes sense besides Teruki harboring some negative feelings towards the whole Kageyama-Tsubomi circumstance. (We all know it doesn’t take that long to sip some tea.)

Heteronormativity

This section won’t be as screenshot heavy as the other few. That’s partly because this was a section I thought of while writing this post and also because, well, the only screenshots I’d have would be of Teruki before his change in character. (I would also like to give credit to @terumobwiki. His post gave me a good idea of what to write for this section, and without it, I may have left this part out.)

Before meeting Kageyama, Teruki was living the stereotypical “dream life.” He had a girlfriend, was popular in school, great at sports, etc etc. But we clearly see in his flashback (at least, in the manga) that he isn’t actually happy with all this. When he’s being congratulated on his perfect scores, he looks bored or possibly even depressed. A perfect life isn’t what he actually wants. He was just forcing himself to enjoy it.

And then, after Kageyama comes into his life, Teruki isn’t mentioned to have a girlfriend ever again. Which is definitely interesting, considering we blatantly see that he still has fangirls and gets confessions often. It’s clear throughout the show that he still struggles with pride, too, and yet this other key factor of his past self isn’t there. And, unsurprisingly, he seems to be way happier without a girlfriend.

Conclusion: Teruki is gay and has romantic feelings for Kageyama. The evidence is in all the previously mentioned points. And yes, other characters close to Kageyama have some of these traits, but not all four. For example, Ritsu is protective of Kageyama, but he doesn’t go out of his way to stick by his brother, nor does he change his morals to fit the other’s.

And if you don’t think this is what a crush is like, think back to the last one you had. Did you not wish to spend more time with that person? Did you not want to show off in front of them, or instead, wanted to watch them more closely? Did you not react differently around them than compared to others?

Case in point.

#URGH this took forever but hey im finally done!!!!#now i can fuckign uhhhhh relax #for maybe 5 minutes before i dive into writing my claw!teru au lol #post #analysis #terumob #mp100 #mob psycho 100

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militant-holy-knight · 5 years ago

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"There Is No Christian Anymore in This Town"

Mali: On June 9, Islamic Fulani gunmen massacred at least 95 Christians — including women and children. During their rampage in a Christian village, they set it ablaze before leaving; several of the slain were burned alive. "About 50 heavily armed men arrived on motorbikes and pickups," a survivor recalled. "They first surrounded the village and then attacked — anyone who tried to escape was killed.... No one was spared — women, children, elderly people." Security sources confirmed that the raiders also randomly killed domestic animals in the village. It was "virtually wiped out."

Burkina Faso: Islamic terrorists slaughtered 29 Christians over the course of two separate raids. The first took place on Sunday, June 9, in the town of Arbinda; 19 Christians were slaughtered. The next day, another ten Christians were murdered in a nearby town. An additional 11,000 Christians fled the region and were left displaced; they feared if they were to remain in their villages they would be next. "There is no Christian anymore in this town [Arbinda]," said a local contact. He added that "It's proven that they [terrorists] were looking for Christians. Families who hide Christians are [also] killed. Arbinda had now lost in total no less than 100 people within six months." These June attacks follow a string of Islamic terror attacks in the West African nation over the preceding six weeks that left at least another 20 Christians dead.

Nigeria: Muslim Fulani herdsmen killed at least 24 Christians in three separate raids. On June 17, the herdsmen slaughtered 13 Christians — three of whom were children, one reportedly only eight years old — in Kaduna and Plateau States. Two churches, more than 200 Christian homes, and crops were also torched to the ground. The same day, in Tarabu State, "Muslim Fulanis riding Bajaj motorcycles" raided another Christian village, where they butchered another 11 Christians. "They burned houses and shot us as we fled," a "contact" said, according to the report. According to Morning Star News:

"Like Boko Haram, they are inspired by the jihad and caliphate of their Fulani kinsman Usman dan Fodio," John Eibner, chairman of international management at the Swiss-based CSI, notes on the Website. "The extensive death and destruction caused by Fulani terrorists rarely makes major headlines in the West. But, according to the Global Terrorism Index, 'In 2018 alone, deaths attributed to Fulani extremists are estimated to be six times greater than the number committed by Boko Haram'...

"Fulani attacks against villages, the destruction of crops, and kidnappings tend to be directed against Christian and traditionalist villagers, with the goal of driving them off their land and occupying it," Eibner states on the Website (www.nigeria-report.org). "For the Fulani militias, the ideology and rhetoric of dan Fodio's jihad are used to legitimize land grabbing. The violence of these Muslim Fulani militias tends to be conducted with impunity. The American and British-backed Nigerian Army – the largest in Africa and a major participant in many international peacekeeping missions – is unable or unwilling to confront Fulani militias."

Morocco: According to the ringleader of an Islamic terror cell, the sole reason that he and his men slaughtered two female Scandinavian students — a Dane, 24, and a Norwegian, 28 — who were hiking through the North African nation's Atlas Mountains, was because they were Christian (many Muslims assume that all Europeans are practicing Christians). Abdessamad Ejoud, 25, confessed to this motivation during his and two other terrorists' court trial over the murders that occurred last December. Ejoud, who professed his "love" for ISIS in court, personally beheaded one of the two women because, as Christians, they are Allah's "enemies," he said, and are responsible for "killing Muslims."

Pakistan: Three Muslim men and one woman robbed, beat, and poisoned Sagheer Masih, a 35-year-old Christian auto-rickshaw driver. According to the report, he "was targeted because of religious hatred, prejudice and apparent jealously of his success":

Sagheer Masih's work ethic and personality drew several customers to him. He was well-mannered, polite and very friendly. Knowing he had the responsibility of taking care of three younger siblings after the death of his father, he ensured that he always got to work early and left late in order to gather as much money as he could to care for them. At work, he experienced discrimination because of his faith. Several of the other drivers called him "Choora" which is a derogatory word for a Christian in Pakistan, but he never saw his death coming. On the night of the incident, he stayed at work later than usual to drive for people he thought were customers. The group requested that he take them on a longer route than usual and made it clear to him that they were willing to pay an extra fee. After moments of driving, they directed him to a remote location and, at knife-point, demanded that he give them all his money. Sagheer, being scared for his life and concerned for his siblings, gave all he had, but begged that they spare his life. Instead of killing him in on the spot, they forced him to drink poison and acid and left him there to die. Sagheer Masih spent that night on laying on the street unconscious. When he was finally found, he was unable to eat or drink anything and he consistently vomited blood....

Sri Lanka: The Islamic suicide bombing of churches and hotels on Easter Sunday, April 21, that claimed more than 250 lives claimed another life in June. Arun Prashanth, who heroically helped others after his church was bombed, had been struggling between life and death in an intensive care unit for 40 days when, on June 4, he finally succumbed to death. According to a report, "Arun, [30,] the sole family breadwinner who cared for his widowed mother, was very active in Christian ministry and known as someone who was always available to help out anyone in need."

Niger: On June 15, in response to the arrest of a popular Muslim imam who had accused proposed legislation of being "anti-Islamic," a Muslim mob of more than 150 people set the Assembly of God Church in Maradi ablaze. They also torched the pastor's car and raided another neighboring church. A senior official of Niger's Ministry of Interior later said that there is "nothing anti-Islamic" in the proposed legislation, which is intended to counter measures advocated by "obscurantist terrorist organizations." The imam, Sheikh Rayadoune, was released the day after his arrest, at which point he announced that "all my supporters must stop making trouble in the town. Islam does not recommend that."

United States: A Muslim man from Syria, who in August 2016 was admitted into the U.S. as a "refugee," was "arrested on terrorism charges in relation to a plan to attack a church in Pittsburgh, according to the Justice Department," notes a report dated June 19:

Mustafa Mousab Alowemer, 21, was arrested based on a federal complaint charging him with one count of attempting to provide material support and resources to the self-described Islamic State, also known as ISIS, according to the U.S. Justice Department. He's also charged with two counts of distributing information relating to an explosive, destructive device or weapon of mass destruction in relation to a plan to attack the Legacy International Worship Center on the city's north side. The complaint states that Alowemer in May gave "multiple instructional documents" detailing how to build and use explosives, including improvised explosive devices, to an undercover FBI agent he believed was an ISIS supporter. Federal prosecutors allege that the man handed over these documents intending for them to be used in assembling a weapon to conduct an attack.

Alowemer had purchased several items — including nails, batteries and consumer products containing hazardous chemicals — to be used in his improvised explosive device.

Ethiopia: Authorities ordered an evangelical church congregation to vacate the building it had been using for the last decade. Complaints from neighbors of loud noises were cited in the eviction letter, which gave the congregants 30 days to vacate the premises. "This decision is nothing other than a display of animosity towards Protestant churches in the region," said one local.

"Similar tensions are bubbling under the surface in other parts of Oromia. We have even heard of places where Muslims had asked Christians to vacate the area. And though this call is veiled as ethnic rivalry by some media and observers, it is at its very core a religious matter."

According to World Watch Monitor:

There is concern that these measures are part of a concerted effort to discourage Christian activity in Oromia state, the birthplace of [Muslim] President Abiye Ahmed. Leaders say they also fear that if these government actions are successful, it might encourage Muslims in other communities in Oromia to initiate similar complaints. As of the 2007 census, the state was about 51 percent Christian (17.7% protestant, 30.4 orthodox) and 47.6% Muslim.... It's not only the state's Protestant churches that face problems. Some Ethiopian Orthodox churches have reported an increase in difficulties...

Lebanon: Security agents arrested a Syrian national and ISIS-sympathizer, aged 20, for plotting a series of attacks against the nation's Christian churches and Shia mosques. He was apparently inspired by the April 21 Sri Lanka terror attacks on Christian churches and tourist designations that left more than 250 dead. The report stated:

Within the Middle East context, Lebanon is considered a comparatively safe country for Christians. It is the only country with a Christian president. Even so, challenges persist. The Iranian backed terrorist group, Hezbollah, has a strong political influence in the country. Lebanon is home to over a million refugees and asylum seekers. Lebanese Christians are well-aware of how this combination could place them into situations which make them more vulnerable to attacks.

Uganda: A Christian primary school, which takes in Muslim children thrown out by their parents for converting to Christianity, was unexpectedly demolished by authorities after local Muslims complained that the school was conducting loud and disruptive worship services in the evening. One written compliant, sent directly to the school, threatened that "If you do not stop night prayers, we are going to take tough action against the school." Soon after, at 2:00am on June 2, without prior notification, the school was demolished.

Uganda: Local authorities banned open-air evangelical church events after some Muslims converted to Christianity — while others, angered by such apostasy, threatened church leaders with text messages such as, "Tomorrow we are coming to kill all of you during the open air crusade." Several of the Christians who spoke at the event were former Muslims and openly discussed what they deemed problematic Islamic doctrines that prompted them to embrace Christianity. "We cannot allow the Christians to use the Koran in their meetings or to allege that Jesus is the Son of God," explained one mosque leader; "this [is] a serious blasphemy to Muslims." Another sheikh openly threatened the apostates with death:

"We cannot watch the Christians changing our faithful members to Christianity. If those who have joined Christianity will not return back to Islam, then we are going to treat them as infidels, hence deserving death according to the teaching of Islam."

"I am very afraid for my life," said a former Muslim cleric turned Christian. "I have received threatening messages in my phone that the Muslims want my head." Local authorities responded to these threats by shutting down the evangelical events.

Egypt: A Sudanese Muslim cleric who on converting to Christianity fled his persecutors in Sudan and came to Egypt continues to receive threats. Most recently, a caller on the telephone told Al Hadi Izzalden Shareef Osman that he is "an infidel and fuel for hell." It was the voice of a cleric who a week earlier had come to Osman's Cairo apartment with five other Muslim sheikhs demanding that the apostate renounce Christ and re-embrace Islam or prepare to face the consequences. "They kept telling me to go mosque, but I refused," Osman said. "I was afraid and had to relocate from the apartment to another location.... Egypt is no longer safe for me. I want to relocate elsewhere, I am tired of these threats."

Separately, on June 10, an angry Muslim mob attacked Christians in the village of Ishnin, in Upper Egypt, after the Islamic call to prayer, portions of which announced that a young Christian had made a post on Facebook deemed offensive to Islam. Fadi Yousef, 25, the accused, says his account was hacked; he deleted the post once he saw it — posting in its place an explanatory apology. "He is apologizing because he respects your feelings," his sister later explained. "He is not a child to do such a thing..." Regardless, a mob gathered and forced their way into his family home and the homes of two other relatives; they tore out the electrical wiring and destroyed furniture. According to a local, "The extremists were roaming the village saying, 'There is no god but Allah.' We were very afraid in that time.... All of us are now in our homes." "This is a village which is full of many Muslim Brotherhood members," said another Christian woman. "I'm sure that unless the police had entered the village, the extremists would have killed every Christian, one by one. Now there are many armored police in the village." The young Christian, his wife and small daughter barely managed to escape "minutes before the Muslim extremists broke in and destroyed the refrigerator, television set, mattresses, furniture and windows," a statement from the local bishopric indicated; it adds that the mob was "shouting against the Christian religion and the Copts of the village."

The next day, police arrested the accused Christian man on the charge that he had insulted Islam, which in Egypt is punishable by up to five years in prison.

Pakistan: Apparently angered at the success of a Christian pastor's ministry and eager to halt it, a mob of about 35 men attacked him and his family at their home. Thanks to a police officer who was passing by and saw the attack in progress, "Pastor Aziz, his wife, and their daughter escaped with minor injuries, though they only have the clothes on their backs," states the report. "They are now homeless as the attackers seized Pastor Aziz's property." According to a Western source, who knows him:

"Pastor Aziz, who himself had come out of a Muslim background, has been evangelizing and church planting... These Muslim militants want to see that stopped. But we are very glad that he is alive and he is determined to continue his ministry, even though he now has no home."

This attack — the third since Aziz became Christian — has also stirred up traumatic memories: "More than 15 years ago, he has a son who was five-years-old who was kidnapped, again, because of the family's faith in Jesus Christ. And Aziz and Ruhab have never seen him since."

Kuwait: Islamic cleric Othman al-Khamis was again accused of "stoking sectarian tension," against Christians. In June, he issued a fatwa (Islamic opinion), comparing the Christian crucifix to Satan. He added that "Muslims cannot wear clothes bearing images of the cross or the devil unless it is in an insulting place such as socks." Earlier this year, he issued another fatwa encouraging his followers to kill those who leave the religion.

United Kingdom: Muslim prison-gangs are threatening and beating non-Muslim prisoners, the majority of whom identify as Christians, into converting to Islam. "The tactic they use is to befriend someone when they come in," a non-Muslim inmate was quoted as saying, according to a new Ministry of Justice report. "If they don't convert, they will then start spreading rumours about them, that the person is a snitch, so that they will be ostracised. Then the beatings follow." Another prisoner summarized the gang leaders as follows:

"This will be someone whose offence has validity. It could be for high profile terrorism... They will either be born to the [Islamic] religion or converted a long time ago, before they came into prison. Prison converts wouldn't have the legitimacy to become leaders. Nothing will happen without the say so of the leader. If you can speak Arabic or learn passages of the Koran, this will allow you to get up the ranks. The leaders will be very polite to the faces of staff and won't do anything to get into trouble with the authorities themselves... It's all done though their footsoldiers."

"If I said I didn't want to be a Muslim, I'd need to watch out just in case someone stabbed me," said another prisoner. According to Christian prison pastor Paul Song — who was fired after a Muslim imam who disapproved of Song's approach took over as head chaplain — non-Muslim prisoners who "want to lead a peaceful life in prison ... need to become Muslim. That way they are protected.... Some people have been forced to convert with violence. How do I know? Because three or four people come up to me and tell me."

Libya: An internal UN report states that Libyan authorities are not burying the dead bodies of those Christians who died in the overcrowded Zintan detention center, which houses migrants and refugees, "because the local community insists the cemetery is only for Muslims," the Irish Times reported.

Egypt: On June 5, anti-Christian mob violence erupted in a majority-Muslim village after a former Christian woman who had run away with a Muslim man returned -- married, converted to Islam, and pregnant. During her absence, her Muslim-in-laws regularly harassed and threatened her former Christian family, who live across the street. As part of the triumphant celebration of her return as a Muslim, Muslims in the area began attacking and pelting the Christian household and others with stones, reportedly to the encouragement and support of the police. "We live in a state of terror now," the woman's Christian brother reported, "and the village has become chaotic as a result of the celebrations."

In a separate incident, in response to an ISIS attack in the Sinai Peninsula that left eight Egypt security officers dead, the government responded by honoring the slain -- except for one, a Christian. Seven schools were named after the seven slain Muslim officers, but the Christian, Abanoub Nageh, was denied this honor, until his family protested. Authorities initially responded by saying that a school would also be named after him, but then reneged, saying "this could not be done because of severe objections by the village Muslims that a school would bear such a flagrantly Coptic name as 'Abanoub.'" Instead, a rarely used canal bridge was named after him.

Pakistan: Eyewitnesses saw two Muslim men abduct Sania Lateef, a 15-year-old Christian girl, as she was taking out garbage from her family home. Her distraught parents went to the local police, but they refused to open an investigation. An activist acquainted with the case said the girl is believed to have been coerced into converting to Islam and marrying one of her abductors. The report adds:

"... the case of the Christian girl is the latest in a long series of abductions for the purpose of forced conversion and marriage in Pakistan.... In Pakistan the victims of kidnapping and forced conversion are almost always girls from religious minorities, whose members lack the power and money needed to file complaints and go to trial."

#persecution #Christianity #news #terrorism

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dauntlcssly · 5 years ago

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☾ — SCOTT SUMMERS/CYCLOPS is here! HE has found themselves wandering about new gotham attempting to find their place in this challenging world. they were once a HERO who used to be associated with THE X-MEN. hope they make it in this world.

PINTEREST BOARD LINK.

the basics —

NAME: scott summers

ALIASES: cyclops, the first x-man, scotty, cyke, fearless leader, slim, captain commander

AGE: 34

BIRTHDAY & ZODIAC: unknown & virgo

MBTI: entj

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: he / him.

FACECLAIM: bob morley

a deeper look —

FAMILY: christopher summers (father), katherine summers (mother, deceased), jack winters (foster father), alexander summers (brother), gabriel summers (brother), jean grey (wife), nathan summers (son), rachel summers (daughter), hope summers (granddaughter)

AFFILIATION: the x-men (he’s their leader)

THREE FAVORITE THINGS: laser tag as a training exercise in the danger room, a hot bowl of soup, eighties music blasting through the speakers of his car

THREE HATED THINGS: sentinels attacking his people, not remembering what it’s like to see the world in color outside of everything being red, living with the trauma from his abuse growing up as a child

EDUCATION: college graduate, xavier’s school for gifted youngsters

SKILLS:

EXPERT PILOT: an expert pilot of fixed-wing aircraft, a skill he shares with his father.

MASTER TACTICIAN AND STRATEGIST: has spent most of his superhero career as the leader of either the x-men and has developed exceptional leadership skills. it is notable that regardless of their general attitude towards him, all of the x-men tend to obey his orders in battle — because they know that he is usually right.

EXPERT MARTIAL ARTIST: cyclops also has extensive training in martial arts and unarmed combat, holding black belts in judo and aikido. his level of skill is sufficient to defeat six normal men with his eyes closed, and he has in the past held his own against dangerous hand-to-hand enemies.

WEAPONS: he doesn’t need one

ABILITIES: cyclops is an alpha-mutant.

OPTIC BLAST: possesses the mutant ability to project a powerful beam of concussive, ruby-colored force from his eyes. his powers come from ambient energies (such as solar radiation, photons, and cosmic rays) absorbed and metabolized by his body into concussive blasts released by his eyes.

cyclops’s mind has a particular psionic field that is attuned to the forces that maintain the apertures that have taken the place of his eyes. because his mind’s psionic field envelops his body, it automatically shunts the other-dimensional particles back into their point of origin when they collide with his body. so, his body is protected from the effects of the particles, and even the thin membrane of his eyelids is sufficient to block the emission of energy.

the width of cyclops’s eye-blasts seems to be focused by his mind’s psionic field with the same autonomic function that regulated his original eyes’ ability to focus. as cyclops focuses, the size of the aperture changes and thus act as a valve to control the flow of particles and beam’s relative power. the height of cyclops’s eye-blast is controlled by his visor’s adjustable slit.

his narrowest beam, about the diameter of a pencil at a distance of 4 feet has a force of about two pounds per square inch.

his broadest beam, about 90 feet across at a distance of fifty feet, has a force of about 10 pounds per square inch.

his most powerful eye-blast is a beam four feet across which, at a distance of 50 feet, has a force of 500 pounds per square inch.

SPATIAL AWARENESS: possesses an uncanny sense of trigonometry, in this sense used to describe his observation of objects around himself and the angles found between surfaces of these objects. cyclops has repeatedly demonstrated the ability to cause his optic blasts to ricochet and/or reflect off those objects in a trajectory to his liking. this is commonly called a “banked shot” when applied to this talent. cyclops has been observed causing beams to reflect from over a dozen surfaces in the course of one blast, and still hit his intended target accurately.

ENERGY RESISTANCE: is resistant to the effects of his own powers. this is linked to him being capable of withstanding his brother’s ability with no ill effects, a result of their close genetics and a quirk of mutant genetics that is common among siblings.

TELEPATHIC RESISTANCE: years of being in intimate situations with telepaths have allowed cyclops to hone his mind to the point where he can resist telepathic intrusion and withhold certain information from high level telepaths.

the questionnaire —

WHAT IS SOMETHING YOUR CHARACTER LIKES ABOUT NEW GOTHAM? SOMETHING THEY DISLIKE? DO THEY MISS THE WAY THINGS WERE - OR DO THE LIKE HOW THE WORLD IS NOW? IS IT WEIRD TO THEM TO SEE MULTIPLE TYPES OF PEOPLE AND CREATURES AROUND? OR ARE THEY USED TO IT? WERE THEY ORIGINALLY FROM ONE OF THE TWO MAIN CITIES - OR SOMEWHERE ELSE?

scott is used to being around so much diversity since he grew up as a mutant. he cares about his people a lot, willing to do anything to protect a fellow mutant. he will also stick his neck out for almost anyone that needs help, no matter where they’re from and what their genetics say. it’s more about doing the right thing. he hopes that maybe with this new world, the changes will open up for more acceptance from humankind this time around. between the sentinels and the purifiers life can be exhausting, being out through so many hate speeches, but scott is a leader. he isn’t afraid to speak up for mutants especially the children. this of course is why he doesn’t mind seeing other creatures walking around — more open to treating them as an equal. he does miss the way everything used to be, it seems less chaotic now that he looks back on it. he‘s always been busy between leading the x-men and the geometry classes he taught back in his own reality. scott wishes to return back to his version of normal, not sure if these changes will offer the promise of hope he wants his people to have. plus he worries about the kids being left behind if they’re all showing up here. he needs to explore new gotham to figure out what’s to like it dislike necessarily. his kind has been occupied by other priorities.

WHERE WAS YOUR CHARACTER WHEN EVERYTHING CHANGED? ARE THEY SUSPICIOUS OF EVERYONE OR ARE THEY TRYING TO REMAIN UNDER THE RADAR? HAVE THEY REUNITED WITH THEIR FRIENDS OR ARE THEY LOST? WERE THEY AT HOME IN BED? OUT PATROLLING THE STREETS? IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR? WHAT’S HAPPENED TO THEM NOW?

scott was just coming back from a mission when everything changed. he had his glasses in hand — about to change out his visor for them, but then everything was different. he should be thankful to have been transported with his uniform and his casual eyewear. he was concerned about what caused the worlds to collide like this. scott has more questions than answers right now. he’s mostly spending his time looking for his team, viewing them as the priority more than anything else. scott is always suspicious after what happened as a child, the abuse and manipulation from sinister and his adoptive father makes him hesitant with some new faces. he’s been working on it, even if that man somehow always finds away to keep an eye on him. which he hates, but is going to try being open minded to making new alliances. the x-men would need to unite with the unknown to somehow make it home OR make a new, safe haven here in new gotham.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION —

ANYTHING YOU WANT US TO KNOW? ANY HEADCANONS?

origin —

scott summers is the oldest son of major christopher summers and katherine summers. he was born in the largest city in alaska. his father was a test pilot for the united states air force. his younger brother was born a couple years later, and his name is alex.

when the two boys were flying home from a family vacation on their father’s vintage plane, a scout ship from the alien shi’ar empire materialized suddenly — setting their plane on fire. their mother pushed scott and alex our of the plane door with the only available parachute. the parachute caught on fire, and this is when scott used his optic blasts for the first time to slow their descent. he was a mutant! the boys were completely unaware that the shi’at teleported their parents before the plane exploded. they were believed to be orphans.

one night scott woke up and destroyed the entire roof of the hospital with his optic blast. the next time waking up after that an entire year passed. once recovered he was placed into an orphanage in omaha, nebraska called the state home for foundlings. here it was that scott was forced to be subjected to batteries of tests and experiments by the owner of the orphanage — mr. milbury which was just an alias for mr. sinister. sinister placed mental blocks on scott and took on playing the role of the boy’s roommate that would bully him constantly. if anyone tried to adopt Scott sinister would intervene.

when scott was a teenager he started to suffer from severe headaches and he was sent to a specialist — also sinister in disguise. he provided the boy with lenses made of ruby quartz.

soon after his mutant power erupted from his eyes as an uncontrollable blast — demolishing a crane, causing it to drop the payload toward a terrified crowd. he uses another blast to obliterate the object, but the people believed that the teenager tries to kill them. an angry mob formed, so scott fled onto a freight train.

this is where the mutant would meet a criminal named jack winters, who would became his foster father for a short time. he would use his telepathic abilities to manipulate scott into joining up with him. he was physically abused if there was any refusal.

the use of his abilities attracted the attention of professor charles xavier. he was rescued from the clutches of jack winters, and taken in by charles to be the first member of the x-men. a team of mutants trained to use their powers for the professor’s dream for mutant equality.

the original x-men became best friends, and were tutored by professor x. he trained them to use their powers inside of the danger room. scott was provided with a special visor made of ruby quartz to help him control his powers in the field.

scott takes on the alias cyclops. he becomes the leader of the x-men, and continues to hold that position. he’s completely aware of what mister sinister did to him growing up during his traumatic experiences at the orphanage, and him playing the role of his doctor.

he also moves on to become a professor at the school when reaching adulthood. scott taught geometry mainly, while also offering a leadership and tactics course. if the students wanted to form a small team of their own it has to be approved through him. he misses teaching now that the world has changed.

weaknesses —

POWER REGULATION DISABILITY: due to psychological trauma and physical injury at a young age, cyclops is unable to control his optic blasts. In connection, his eyes have become more reliant on the ruby quartz he uses rather than affecting change to the injury. emma frost has claimed the psychological trauma of losing his parents and being separated from his brother are primarily responsible for his inability to control his powers. sinister has also claimed that his eyes have become reliant on the ruby quartz sunglasses and visor, therefore making it hard for cyclops to control the blasts on his own. after overcoming the trauma, he was able to control his blasts and open his eyes for a period of time. however, he gradually began losing control of the blasts and had to revert back to using the sunglasses and visor again.

SURPLUS ENERGY: he needs to fire blasts frequently, because he gathers surplus energy within him if not. he apparently needs an outlet for that energy

equipment —

VISOR: to prevent random discharge it’s lined with powdered ruby quartz crystal. as a safety factor their is a constant positive closing pressure provided by springs. there is an overriding finger-operated control mechanism on either side of the mask, and normal operation is through a flat micro-switch installed in the thumb of either glove.

he also has emergency ruby quartz contacts.

X-SUIT: current costume of cyclops is a variation of the basic costume designed by charles to their first and original x-men.

#synergy:charintro #ᴄʏᴄʟᴏᴘs ᴡᴀs ʀɪɢʜᴛ. [ MUSE ]#abuse mention //

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theteablogger · 6 years ago

Text

Same shit, different day

Earlier this week, I received an email from Claire, one of the people who met Andy in Los Angeles. She’s the woman whom Andy complimented on her “trophy boyfriend”, who was actually Kyle Hill. She is also the person who first alerted Molly to the existence of the Andy awareness blogs. After another friend recognized him from LotR fandom and filled Molly in on some of his history, which led directly to Andy’s eviction from her home, Claire started looking for more information and found the AA blogs and tf-talk.

On December 12, I posted about the “trophy boyfriend” incident and noted that Andy had in fact been aware of who Kyle was before that happened. Andy read the post and decided to reach out to Claire. She had blocked him on all of her accounts, or so she thought, but Andy looked around and realized that he was still able to contact her via her Facebook fan page, which she checks infrequently. On January 29, over a month after I made my post, he sent her the following message, which she didn’t see until this past weekend:

In the first line, Andy is referring to the days after he was evicted from Molly’s house, when he was trying to get Claire to meet with him and hear his side of the story. In her words:

I always want to give people the benefit of the doubt and believe those who say they have changed, or are trying to change, but there were just too many red flags with Andy for me to want to continue any contact at that point.

The meeting never took place.

Contacting someone to tell them he’s not stalking them, via the only account on which they’d forgotten to block him, more than seven months after they’d cut him off, actually does make Andy look a little bit like a stalker. I’m not saying that he’s stalking Claire and Kyle now, or that he was stalking them when he sent this message, or that he was stalking them last summer. I’m just pointing out the irony.

Also? I never said that Andy was stalking Claire and Kyle, or anyone else from that group of friends. Andy is concern-trolling, and he isn’t even being subtle about it.

What I actually said in my post was that in late spring/early summer, Andy had added a bunch of Molly’s friends on social media without ever having met them before, and had “thoroughly checked out” their accounts. I based this on Molly’s statement that he had done so as part of his attempt to insta-bond with her friend group. She further stated, “...he would speak about my friends, their lives and their interests and trials and tribulations as if they were very, very close friends [of his],” despite having had very little interaction with them on- or off-line. He’d only known Molly’s friends for about two weeks at the point that he was kicked out, and had only talked with the majority of them in group situations, so where did he get this information? From their social media, obviously. I would not and did not go so far as to call Andy’s social media trawling “stalking”, but I think that trying to use the information he found to create an illusion of intimacy with the group was very creepy, especially given all of his other questionable behavior at the time. Anyway, it’s extremely unlikely that he could have looked around to that extent without running into any of Kyle’s activity.

I further commented that because Andy was a member of Project Alpha, which was streaming Kyle’s show as well as other content in which he appeared, Andy had probably seen him there. I still think this was a reasonable assumption, especially given that Andy’s pretext for suddenly realizing who Kyle was, was seeing him on Gather Your Party.

Finally, I shared a screenshot of Andy retweeting a link to one of Kyle’s videos last April. This indicates that Andy had heard of Kyle over a month before he went to LA and started digging for information in Molly’s friends’ social media, at which point Kyle almost certainly would have come up on his radar again. It’s disingenuous to say that I extrapolated evidence of “stalking” from one little tweet, and I don’t believe Andy really thought I’d done that.

After assuring Claire that he wasn’t trying to re-establish contact (again, by sending her a message on the only account on which he wasn’t blocked) and describing my post in a misleading way, Andy said:

[The alleged accusation of stalking] frankly, would scare the shit out of me if I was you and I don’t want you to be and have never wanted you to be hurt.

This sentence was, in my opinion, an attempt to establish several things. Andy is sensitive and empathetic. Claire is (or ought to be) frightened by a supposed allegation that he might be stalking her. Andy cares about her and wants to protect her. And I, the anon blogger, am the real villain for causing Claire emotional distress in the process of trying to make Andy out to be the bad guy.

In the past, Andy has generally focused on how the “online rumor mill” or “pitchfork mob” is trying to destroy his life. A little over a year ago, he switched tactics, saying that CR fandom would be ruined for Meg if everyone didn’t back off and leave him alone. In other words, monitoring and reporting on Andy’s continued involvement with fandom was going to hurt his friend. (Meanwhile, other friends of his continued aggressively pushing the old narrative.) Now he’s claiming that pointing out his lies is harmful to the people he targeted, who have since cut him out of their lives!

He continued:

For whatever credibility I may have gained in honestly answering your questions this summer and in keeping our conversation private and keeping off social media, I give you my word that I honestly didn’t even click on that link.

Andy reminded Claire of how well-behaved he’d been--perhaps hoping that she’d forgotten how he sent Kyle a friend request days after the whole group cut off contact with him--and insisted that he didn’t actually watch the video that he retweeted. Okay. But my argument didn’t hang on whether he’d watched the video or not. The point, again, was that the tweet provided definitive proof that Andy was aware of Kyle and his show before he supposedly mistook him for a “trophy boyfriend”. It confirmed what I already had plenty of reason to suspect. Also, the date on that tweet wasn’t three months before he met everyone in LA, as Andy said; it was about seven weeks. Andy was kicked out of Molly’s house less than nine weeks after the tweet.

And unless you specifically invite it or our paths cross wholly coincidentally someday, that’s the last you’ll hear from me since the whole point is I DON’T want you afraid that I’m stalking you.

It was already evident that Andy wasn’t letting things go because he contacted Claire about my post in the first place. Here, he doubled down. Instead of just saying that he wouldn’t contact her again, he raised the possibility that she might want to reopen communication between them, or that they might “just happen” to run into each other. And he repeated that he didn’t want her to worry that he’s stalking her, when the circumstances in which he sent this message in the first place suggest otherwise. (Again, just noting the irony. I do not actually believe that Andy is stalking Claire or Kyle.)

Claire has read my post now because she googled it after receiving Andy’s message, but she hadn’t seen it before and certainly had not spent the last three months looking over her shoulder for Andy. As she put it:

This is unnerving for a few reasons - not only that he felt compelled to message me and defend himself on this matter (one which I wasn't even previously aware of), but that he sought out my fan page, the only medium on which I didn't have him blocked, and that he knew about your post to begin with, which shows that he still regularly checks the "awareness" blogs and/or googles his name, at least as recently as three months ago. I was honestly content to let Andy fade into the reliquary of "that happened," but reading this set me on edge. Although he says it's not intention in his very first sentence, why even message me if he isn't trying to re-establish some sort of contact?

Why, indeed.

Andy, just...stop it. While I don’t know Claire or any of her friends personally, I’ve talked enough with several of them to be aware that they’re not shy about confronting perceived threats to people they care about. If Claire had been afraid that you were stalking her, you would have heard about it and been told to back off. I think you know this perfectly well. Their actions upon finding out the truth about you last summer were a pretty big hint.

You need to respect people’s boundaries. If you have been told not to contact someone again, don’t fucking do it. Don’t look for any flimsy excuse to write to them. Don’t seek out avenues of communication that they’ve forgotten to close. Definitely don’t try to throw them off-balance with concern-trolling and manufactured empathy. Leave them alone. It’s that simple.

#andrewmblake #andythanfiction #andrew blake #andy blake #thanfiction #critical role #hiding in plain sight

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emblem-333 · 5 years ago

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What-If Richard Nixon won the election of 1960?

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic Ocean, Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbin is the last thing standing in the way of total economic collapse of the government. Corbin is their Bernie Sanders, only with more political clout given the parliamentary system. Through years of effective party building, mobilizing and a decaying growth of income inequality worked to provide the Labour Party a large chunk of the seats, though not a majority. Though in the minority the gains of the Labour Party causes massive upheaval in Britain’s power structure. Conservative party leader Theresa May recently left office in disgrace after numerous electoral shortcomings. Right now the Prime Minister of the U.K is Boris Johnson. Basically, he’s mini-Trump. More disheveled, and aligned with the corporate class.

Elsewhere, the French did what the United States electorate couldn’t and bite the bullet and vote for the establishment Neoliberal shill in the face of the rising tide of fascism. Perhaps it was the debacle the Trump presidency only in its infancy managed to cause scared the French into running into the arms of Emmanuel Macron. You’d hope this brush with disaster would humble the centrist in the country. Except, in victory they’re only emboldened that only they know what needs to be done and the filthy unwashed peasants need to understand that. Macron shown hostility towards the Yellow Vest movement whose aims are to raise the poultry minimum wage, in U.S dollars roughly translates to 11.62. Far better than our federal minimum wage of $7.25. But hardly something that can be described as a livable wage.

Macron sits at 70 percent disapproval and his re-election date is 2022.

These three countries have come to the unanimous conclusion that is Neoliberalism is completely useless and only works to facilitate a totalitarian ruler to wrangle enough power to squeeze into power and bring us closer to the apocalypse. However, neither country is truly democratic. So the people, their ideals and concerns don’t matter in the slightest. Though, I’d say the United States is the least democratic of of the three. Two of the last six presidential elections have given us a winner who did not secure the plurality of the popular vote, but their superiority in the electoral college swung them to the Oval Office.

We are still in the early stages of our primary for the out of power party. Democrats are weeding out the competitive field and have three choices apparently to pick from. The candidate of the Hillary Clinton-wing of the Party, made up of aspiring Pod Save America Bros. former vice-president Joe Biden. To his way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way left is elder statesman, self described Democratic-Socialist Bernie Sanders. He is the only candidate marching with labor unions, not crossing the picket line to hold fundraiser with the party’s bigwigs. Somewhere in the middle blowing aimlessly in the wind is Massachusetts senator Elizabeth Warren. A real Rockefeller Republican. If only that wing of the Republicans didn’t collapse and migrate to the Democrats.

Back when Democrats were the party of the working man (you know, the alliance that allowed them to occupy the White House for all but eight-years between 1933 and 1969) in the middle o the Great Depression recently elected president FDR inherited a country on the brink of succumbing to the same forces that destroyed the Czardom. Luckily for them, the Bolshevik Revolution did anything but wet starving Americans appetites for socialism. The ugliness of the Russian Revolution, and a tinge of antisemitism kept what many in the establishment considered the electorates darkest impulses at bay. The New Deal was designed to prevent a movement similar to Eugene V. Debs from upending the established hierarchy.

In the 1932 election there were four far left candidates. William Z. Foster of the Communist Party, Norman Thomas of the Socialist, Verne L. Reynolds of Socialist Labor, and militant labor leader Jacob Coxey of Farmer-Labor. Together the four pooled 1,029,661 votes, enough for 2.6 percent of the vote share. In Debs’ best showing in his many campaigns for the presidency was 913,693 in the election of 1920.

Suffering Americans wanted the blood of the Wall Street tycoons responsible for the demise of their lives. The wolves were at the gates and Roosevelt went to work to ensure his head wouldn’t be on a pike. The New Deal gave the populist its needed relief and the left wing third parties withered away as the dire situation grew less gruesome. Democrats dominated the White House winning five consecutive elections. Conservatives in the party brought up in the era of States’ Rights and limited government radically had to alter their persona to ensure political survival. Harry S. Truman needed to mend his relationship between the AFL-CIO in order to win re-election in ‘48. Texas senator Lyndon Johnson built upon the New Deal instituting a “War on Poverty” birthing his “Great Society.” This aggressive pro-worker party that was a force at the ballot box brought the rise of the liberal republicans in the GOP. Laissez-faire Republicans like Robert A. Taft, Alf Landon, and Wendell Willkie could only push so far in an age where the voter couldn’t stomach the rich. From 1944 to 1960 the “eastern establishment” wing of the GOP ran on platforms which assured voters worried about giving the reins back to the party of Herbert Hoover their intentions are not to gut the popular social programs such as social security, though they wished government interference would not venture farther than it already had.

Moderates like New York Governor Thomas E. Dewey, and the first presidential attempt of Richard Nixon failed to win the White House. Their only victory was famous war General Dwight Eisenhower, who could’ve ran as the nominee as any party and won by the substantial margin he did in ‘52 and ‘56. The party designed to appeal on the coasts couldn’t muster up the coalition in the Midwest needed to secure victory. Ultimately, Republicans learned the lesson today’s Democrats never will. Running as the lite-beer version of your opponent is a recipe for failure. In 1968, Nixon unleashed his Southern Strategy when the Democrats cast their lot in with the civil rights movement. The effects of the southern strategy are still felt today. The strategy itself still works over fifty-years after its inception.

But back in the early 1960’s neither party truly knew where they stood on the issue of civil rights. Dwight Eisenhower deployed federal troops to Little Rock, Arkansas to ensure the entry and safety of black students during integration. His opponent, Adlai Stevenson, a great man, a forward thinker, picked a Alabaman segregationist for his V.P. While the Democrats had its fair share of activist on their team, Hubert Humphrey to name one, who fought tooth and nail for a civil rights plank to be enacted into the party’s platform for 1948. But by the 1950’s the segregationist have regained control.

Perhaps the liberal republicans could have had more success if they exercised political fortitude in advocating and legislating in favor of civil rights. Rather than seeing leaders like Martin Luther King as a controversial figure, at the very least they could have viewed him as somebody who could get them more votes and be heralded as a hero in the process. The infamous “turnip session” in the heat of the ‘48 campaign incumbent underdog Truman addresses the Congress held predominantly by republicans he dared them to put their money where their mouths were regarding civil rights. Of course, they balked and lost the White House they were supposed to win and both the House and Senate.

Playing as Nixon on the Internet game “Campaign Trail” I tapped New Yorker Nelson Rockefeller to be my veep rather than tread water with actual running mate Henry Cabot Lodge. Other options are Arizona senator staunch Neocon Barry Goldwater, and moderate elder statesman Everett Dirksen of Illinois. I choose Rockefeller because I wanted to run on a civil rights platform. I condemned the arrest of of MLK, endorsed a federal minimum wage of $1.25 and didn’t distance myself when Rockefeller promised further civil rights legislation while on the campaign trail.

Though Rockefeller was the rising star of the party at the time, his efforts did not give me the crucial state of New York. However, I fortunately did not need it to secure victory. (I’ll post my answers at the bottom)

Richard Nixon/Nelson Rockefeller: 299; 32,825,498

John F. Kennedy /Lyndon B. Johnson: 224; 33,806,388

Harry Byrd/Strom Thurmond: 14; 328,017

[Post Game Speech] With luck, you will be able to duplicate the eight years of peace and prosperity under Eisenhower. Unfortunately, the Democrats maintain their majority in both houses of Congress. With luck, they will be good partners in a bipartisan governing coalition. Your first order of business is to mend fences with Lyndon Johnson, who is returning to his role as Senate Majority Leader.

I swept the northeast and cleaned up in the west and by the skin of my teeth, despite losing the popular vote changed the trajectory of U.S history. Butterflying JFK from the Oval Office basically ensures Robert Kennedy’s effect on the political landscape as well. People often forget right around this era both parties took orders from the mob thanks to their heavy influence in organized labor. In 1952, the voters of the Democrats eyed Estes Kefauver. Kefauver won 12 primary contests and made his political bones unearthing the dirty secrets of his own party’s ties to the mafia. He was shut out of the convention and didn’t sniff the presidential ticket. Nixon complains of ballot stuffing in crucial swing like Illinois. Only reason he never brought it to court is because his party was guilty of doing the same thing.

Without a president John, we don’t get senator Bobby prosecuting scumbag apes like Carlos Marcello. They could continue to exercise extreme influence over the parties today.

The trade off is maybe a Republican comes along and flushes the monsters out of the Democratic Party. It have to be Nixon. Anyone else is a far reach. Then again, this column is attempting to articulate Nixon, of all people, championing civil rights. So perhaps nothing is impossible?

A plus in not having JFK in the Oval Office is he isn’t around to bungle the Bay of Pigs and take us to the brink of nuclear annihilation in the subsequent Cuban Missile Crisis. Young John was inexperienced and couldn’t beat back the bloodthirsty members in his cabinet advocating for the removal of Cuban leader Fidel Castro. Castro disliked Nixon - I’m not so sure the feeling wasn’t mutual. But Nixon was craftier than JFK when it comes to foreign policy. Kennedy waffled between caving completely to the pressure of Allen Dulles and standing his ground. Kennedy green-lit a half-assed attempt on Castro’s life, did not supply the CIA-sponsored Cuban exiles the support needed to sustain their offensive and their failure drove Castro right into the arms of the Soviet Union and Nikita Khruschev. By October of 1962 the Russians parked missiles 90-miles off the coast of Florida.

Nixon was far from a pacifist. But at the very least, his decisive nature would’ve warranted a legitimate threat to Castro and possibly dethroned him and turned Cuba into a puppet state for the United States. It’s debatable whether that is a good thing or not. I’m going to say it’s the latter. Cuba has tons of numerous human rights atrocities, but they treat their poor better than we do by giving them decent health care coverage.

The fate of Cuba probably isn’t different than the Dominican Republic in the mid-60’s when the U.S overthrew their democratically elected leader for implanting social programs that angered the church and corporate sectors of the country. Either Cuba becomes a fully impoverished country or succumbs to right-wing theocracy like Iran.

On a brighter note, Nixon likely pushes forward on civil rights and with his victory it vindicates the eastern establishment and sets up Rockefeller to be the face of the party. So we are spared Ronald Reagan. Though, the caveat is Rockefeller was an architect of the War on Drugs in the pre-Reagan era. So despite his superior record on civil rights we can still expect an explosion of the prison population for minor offenses for black Americans.

A Nixon victory in ‘60 keeps the GOP the party of Honest Abe. While the Democrats continue on as the White populist party. Maybe George Wallace gets a crack at the White House in ‘64 and he is the sacrificial lamb for the future trajectory of the party like Goldwater was in OTL for the Republicans. No more coastal or big city elites for the Democrats. They likely run southern gentleman like Wallace or Johnson from here on out.

Kennedy appointed two Supreme Court justices to the bench. It is likely Nixon nominates Warren E. Burger and maybe Thurgood Marshall to the bench. The difference this makes is Nixon probably never runs into Lewis Powell. The justice who would crusade in favor of big money contaminating our elections. If so, our political system is held hostage by the mob, but not by multinational corporations destroying the earth to make a profit.

#richard nixon #john f kennedy #nelson rockefeller #1960 presidential election #free coinage of silver #alternate history #what-if?#sailboatstudios

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ihadafeeling · 6 years ago

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heroines are proportionate to their villains

Don Jon: Most people eat that shit up. The pretty woman. The pretty man. Love at first sight. The first kiss. The break up. The make up. The expensive wedding. They drive off into the sunset. Everyone knows it’s fake, but they watch it like it’s real fucking life. Barbara: She was the most important thing to him. He gave up everything for her. It was just meant to be. I love movies like that.

You've heard this before: boy meets girl; boy loves the girl before the girl loves the boy; girl is poorer than boy; girl is less powerful than the boy. It's an old story, and old stories accumulate endings with retellings. Sometimes the girl changes the boy by loving him. Sometimes the boy's love for the girl changes him, a subtly different story. At worst, the change is a conversion of a girl's no into a yes, though the means of conversion vary; in my very favorite incarnation, the girl converts a beast into a man by taking the magic out of him.

What I've always loved about Beauty and the Beast is that it is a story about the transformative power of love in conflict. When Beauty faces the beast, she proves her ferocity. When the Beast yields to her needs above his own, he demonstrates his gentleness. Even so: a dark story. The Beast's gentleness comes down to failing to compel Beauty, even when he could — and only when he shows that willingness does Beauty offer her love, at the first point when it could be freely done. Still, 'failure to compel' is not a ringing endorsement of the Beast's kindness, though usually pitched as putting her agency above his own survival. It is a distinctly different fairy tale ending when contrasted with the usual upward class mobility of pauper-to-princess stories, where the prince remains exactly as he was, while the princess-to-be bargains or endures magic to meet him.

This is supposed to be the story of Meteor Garden 2018.

This was made for women, I thought, watching the first twenty minutes of the first episode. The powerful boy-clique at the heart of the show and at the center of its university setting, the F4, include someone with an eidetic memory; a master of the tea ceremony; a piano virtuoso; a business wunderkind who made his first million on the stock market at age 18; and yes, all of them wealthy beyond compare. But they are specifically introduced as trilingual 185 centimeter Bridge enthusiasts who excel in their respective fields of music and business administration and, "though they might look like players, they respect women." Verbatim. Such is their unbeaten skill at Bridge, and so numerous are their challengers, that only those that receive a red Joker card are invited to play them, where each team will place a bet on their victory. These bets vary, the scariest being the allegation that a losing team had to eat a pair of slippers. Expecting powerful men, I anticipated the usual machismo of wealthy brutal playboys who would gain attention because of their dominance over others. I was not expecting cute schoolboys who are showered with attention for ... well, for being just that, really.

To be fair, the most traditionally masculine of four is the main lead. Daoming Si is the aforementioned business wunderkind, the heir apparent to the most powerful conglomerate in China, who incidentally also beat up a mob boss in highschool. (I'm telling this to you now so you are less surprised than I was by some otherwise unexplained karate heroics of his in the show.) The story begins when he steps on Dong Shancai's phone by accident, breaking it, and does nothing to acknowledge it. As Shancai, unlike the F4 or the vast majority of Ming De University students, is not from a well-to-do family but instead a humble restaurant, the loss of a phone represents a significant hardship. Shenanigans ensue. A red Joker appears in Shancai's locker, indicating a challenge to play bridge from the F4. Si orders an incredible amount of take-out from her family and taunts her over its quality, prompting Shancai to admonish him for bullying her and for being an embarrassment among the otherwise polite and respectable elites at Ming De — and angered, Si smears a box over her head to silence her. After cleaning the noodles and sauces from her shirt, Shancai dreams of the F4 boys chanting EAT THE SLIPPERS over and over.

Her response?

To tell Daoming Si she's not interested in playing cards.

Then kick him in the face.

This refusal to surrender, even when desperately outclassed and outgunned, is supposed to be Dong Shancai's strong suit, where she is the 'undying weed' who refuses to give up against stronger foes. We understand, as the story goes on, that the independence of mind that Si finds so attractive in Shancai is also what causes many of their initial romantic troubles. He seems to not account for liking someone who does not like him back. In a particularly brutal scene, Si rushes to the rooftop to confront Shancai for her interest in Lei, something he interprets as playing them both. He strikes the wall next to her head, never fully explains the source of his anger beyond telling her to stop pretending, prevents her from leaving, pushes her against another wall ... and begins to kiss her, smearing the blood from his knuckles along her cheek and her jacket in the process. Bearing all this, Shancai begins to sob, and begs him to stop. "Stop crying. I won't hurt you any more." He smoothes back her hair as she curls back into herself, crying uncontrollably.

There is no apology for this interaction at any point in the show.

This is the scene that made me rescind my judgment that this was a show made about men generally far outside of toxic masculinity, and therefore the kind of show I think of as aimed at women rather than men. The same scene sat uncomfortably with me as the show pulled out the conventional stops to show love in the making, where Si demonstrates care for Shancai's wellbeing at the risk of his own life ... always followed by a scene where he called her his girlfriend (yes, that specific possessive term, never simply dating), a title she would explicitly deny. He would risk some loss, but never actually lost anything — immediately followed by his indignation to find that this hadn't entitled him to Shancai's affections. I thought again and again of that scene, and of how the things that I often took as demonstrations of love did not involve a change in the balance of power.

So why isn't this Beauty and the Beast?

What story is it, and who is it for?

Let me say one thing it is not: it's not a kind of wish fulfillment. I described to a friend how many side-characters fall in love with Shancai, to her general lack of notice and Si's enormous frustration, and that friend was taken aback. 'You're telling me that dude after dude falls in love with this average girl, while this unattainable boy remains solely interested in her?' Indeed. You could read this as a sort of women's fantasy: the totally unremarkable average girl, surrounded by a harem of unwavering admirers, one explicitly a remarkable boy. But the narrative addresses this concern fairly early on. Si has the opportunity to be with a very average girl, and his refusal of this girl demonstrates that his interest in Shancai isn't simply curiosity about how the other half lives, or the novelty of her poverty, but rather his interest in her as someone with a uniquely strong will. Though there are occasional random admirers without deep explanation, in general, Shancai is flattered by potential love interests for being someone who can persevere in the face of adversity. Which is to say that Shancai is not some fill-in-the-blank average girl. She is specific, and it is her specific moral quality that these men admire.

(And it should be noted she is not uniformly beloved. In her break up with the only other real rival love interest, he comments on how ugly she is, a fact commented on in literally every episode by every character except Si and literally unbelievable if you even glance at the actress Shen Yue.)

It is also not Beauty and the Beast, at least, not in my eyes — and I think that unfortunately has to do with some of the changes to gentle the differing presentations of masculinity in the show. It has much of the shape of that story, particularly as the early episodes alternate between Si trapping Shancai into being with him through his power and Si risking his life to show the value he places on hers. That's Beast's locked enchanted castle. That's Beast laying down his life. But the quality that Shancai is supposed to demonstrate, her unwavering, weedy perseverance, grows absent as the show continues. She is never strong armed into dating Si, but she is also unable to communicate her feelings to him, and the scenes in which she is unable to communicate read as her being cowed by him rather than withholding them deliberately. From what I've read of Hana Yori Dango and Meteor Garden 2001, her confrontations with F4, and with Si, are meant to be between someone relatively powerless confronting the powerful who abuse that power. (This is based on reading descriptions rather than actual viewings, so please forgive me if I've misunderstood.) Instead, the F4 are respectful bridge playing nerds. They are not villains. When Si and Shancai confront in the earlier arcs, regarding their romantic status, it does not read as a moral confrontation.

To me, Shancai feels like less than she might be, because her opposition is less.

Si begins Beastly, but goes through the transformation that his half of the fairy tale insists on. Rather than assuming Shancai's interest because of his own, he learns to state his feelings, vulnerably and honestly, and to seek frank discussions about their relationship. He does what he can to assimilate into her world, rather than assuming he can yank her into his.

In contrast, Shancai doesn't seem to be learning much at all, and in that, I find her less like Beauty than I would like. Beauty is supposed to learn that she has something inside her that she didn't know about, something strong, something not simply sweet or lovely. Something that can take on the Beast. She demonstrates this with her first flying kick, but insofar as her quality of perseverance appears in their relationship, it is in her refusal to date Daoming Si just because he says so.

And her refusal to discuss her feelings with him doesn't read as courage, or as a denial of that kind of intimacy because he doesn't deserve it, but as unwillingness to confront him. It's not that I don't get that, but it doesn't make me feel like this is a demonstration of an important moral quality. And insofar as the quality she discovers in herself is the ability to deny consent, well, that sucks for a moral quality, because what a terrible thing to remark on constantly as something that makes Shancai unique.

The only real villain in this show is Si's mother, the formidable Daoming Feng, leader of the Daoming Group, whose actions play out as cartoonishly evil. (One pleasing thing: she is unique in being unsupportive of Shancai. Every other female character who is introduced with the potential to be a rival or obstacle to Shancai appreciates her, even as they may go on to compete with her.) Shancai does talk back to Feng on a few occasions, but breaks up with Si at her first truly villainous act, and fears to confront her for the next 17 episodes. And I fret about this, because if this is supposed to be a love story with a point, the point should be the perseverance Shancai demonstrated in her love -- and it doesn't. She wavers too often.

I suppose consistent fortitude would make terrible television. There would be no surprise! But insofar as this show has involved growth, and therefore change, it has been the male lead's, and that always makes me nervous; when you read a heterosexual romance where the man does all the deeply existentially human things, fighting, changing, learning, growing, in his pursuit of a woman whose main choice is the change of her mind about him, you read a story simply about a man.

That makes me wonder about my question of who this is for. When I remarked earlier that seeing such sweet, soft, non-toxic men made me think that this was aimed for women, I didn't have a way to ground the claim, even as I felt it was true. I have even less of a basis of who the audience is if it reads as I think it does: as the taming of a very traditionally powerful man by his love for a woman, with a story centered on (but not explicit) on how the plot mainly centers on his choice to continue to pursue her. It's women, I know it is, but I don't know why I know that. I worry that it's some of the old existentialist bullshit, that women never fantasize about themselves as doers.

There's five hours left in the drama, and forty-three of it behind me -- enough that Shancai may surprise me, or that I may be deeply mistaken about previous episodes, because I just can't rewatch them all. I worry that that this last arc will involve Shancai holding tightly to Si, even as his mother does everything to destroy her life. That would it Tam Lin's fairy tale instead of Beauty's: a woman rescuing a man from fairies by clutching to him as he changes shape. Liz Lochead put it best:

It seemed earlier, you see, he’d been talking in symbols (like adder-snake, wild savage bear brand of bright iron red-hot from the fire) and as usual the plain unmythical truth was worse. At any rate you were good and brave, you did hang on, hang on tight. And in the end of course everything turned out conventionally right with the old witch banished to her corner lamenting, cursing his soft heart and the fact that she couldn’t keep him, and everyone sending out for booze for the wedding. So we’re all supposed to be happy? But how about you, my fallen fair maiden now the drama’s over, tell me how goes the glamourie? After twelve casks of good claret wine and the twelve and twelve of muskadine, tell me what about you? How do you think Tam Lin will take all the changes you go through?

#meteor garden 2018

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