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gashinabts · 4 years

Text

Ask Me Out (m)

Words: 5k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, Idiots to lovers

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mature

Summary: You and Taehyung get in a fight because you were allegedly cheating, the only problem is, who are you dating and who are you cheating on.

Warnings: Teasing, spitting, oral (f/receiving), fingering, DomTae, slapping, jealously sex

A/N: Just a small one shot, hope you enjoy!! This is my work no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms.

Holding the letter tight to your chest you breathe out a heavy sigh before giving the letter to Eunha. Taehyung texted her that he will meet with her across the administration building, instead here you are standing in front of her, counting the seconds of when this interaction will end. She opens the letter and you cringe at every second she reads it, you look off at a distance to see if Taehyung could be watching this scene unfold. “ What the hell is this Y/N? Where’s Taehyung?,” she crumbles the letter and there’s irritation evident on her angelic face.

The one con of being Taehyung’s friend is that you have to break up with his girlfriends since he doesn’t like confrontation, to see them yell at him or worst cry in front of them.

In middle school Taehyung told you to break up with Soojin for him on Valentine's day, that was the first time you got bitch slapped by someone at school. Taehyung went to visit you at the nurse office with a red rose. “ Where did you get that?,” you asked him as you pressed the ice pack closer to your cheek. “ I stole it from Jungkook’s valentine’s gift,” he says, as he hands you the rose and sits next to you. His hands gently take off the ice pack inspecting your pink slap mark. “ Ouch. This will be the last time I let you do this for me,” he gives you a boxy smile. Another con of being his friend, Taehyung could be quite the liar.

“ Well as it says on the letter, he wants to break up with you…” you trail off taking a centimeter back. You don’t think she’ll do anything crazy, Eunha was nice when she was with Taehyung, however break ups can change a person.

Eunha takes a step closer and takes the lid of her ice coffee and throws it on your sweatshirt. The cup is empty and the ice cold coffee makes you flinch, “ I knew you guys were sleeping behind my back. Tell him, ‘ The next time he wants to break up with someone, he should be a man and tell them in person,’” she bumps her shoulder against you hard as she walks past you. You groan at her comment and walk towards the center of the campus where the water fountain is, there are students who briefly look at your coffee stain white sweatshirt. “ Well she got you good?,” Taehyung bites his lip and you glare at him. He stands tall right next to you, with his neutral tone baggy pants and sweatshirt. “ Hey I’m sorry I didn’t know she’ll react that way. Take my sweater,” he pulls his already oversized sweater and hands it to you.

You pull off your soaked sweater, “ That’s what you always say Tae,” then you put on his ugly dark green sweater. “ When are you ever going to have the guts to ask the girls you like out and also break up with them?” There’s also another thing he has a problem with, he needs to have someone, you, to ask the girls he likes out. It’s always awkward for you to tell them that Taehyung, the guy that you have a slight crush on, likes them.

“ Y/N, I can’t do that! Just imagine if I ask someone out and they straight out reject me. I would be traumatized for my whole life,” he takes your dirty sweater and walks with you to the apartment.

“ Nope. I can’t possibly see that. You are attractive and funny so I don’t see how you’ll be rejected,” you smell yourself and groan at the scent of ice americano. “ Look, ask me out right now,” you joke around while laughing to yourself. The short laugh becomes a gasp when Taehyung pushes you against a wall with his arm caging you in. His face is close to yours, you could almost count all the long dark eyelashes. Time feels like it slows down because the wind started to lessen along with chirping sounds from the birds.

“ Y/N. Go out with me,” he looks at you dead in the eye, his black curls slightly cover them. Without thinking much you let out a small okay and he backs up giving you space.

His face returns back to his bubbly self smiling, “ Do you want to order fried chicken and beer or pizza?,” he asked you while adjusting the straps of his backpack. The question takes you back and you pinch yourself just to see if this is a dream or an alternative universel. “ Fried chicken and beer,” you tell him, walking alongside him. There is silence between you two as he orders the food on his phone, he gives you the phone so you can review the order, you smile as he orders an extra order of spicy chicken since you are the only one that likes it. “ Looks good,” you say while handing it back.

You and Taehyung are watching a movie while eating the fried chicken peacefully until Jungkook barges in the living room from the front door, “ BAHAHA...Y/N you’re like all over everyone's snapchat. I even saw this video on my fyp on tiktok. Look it almost has one million likes,” he hands his phone while sitting down on the couch. ‘It’s the cheating for me’ you groan as you read the description. “ What the hell? Did you at least comment and tell them that I wasn’t the other woman?,” you ask Jungkook, the video plays and Eunha throws the coffee at you and your face grimaces.

“Yeah but like my comment got lost through the thousands of comments that are there,” he grabs a beer from the table, “ just live through your fifteen minutes of fame,” he chugs the beer. “ Ohh spicy chicken, my favorite,” his hands grab your chicken eating it with gusto.

You toss the phone on the couch, “ Y/N-” you ignore Taehyung’s voice as you go to your room. You take solace in your warm comforter hugging your stuffed penguin and taking a nap. The feeling of Taehyung’s warm hands wakes you up, he’s spooning you, hugging you tightly against his chest. You are used to Taehyung's skin ship at home, he typically does this when he sees a scary movie and has nightmares so he crawls into your bed or when the apartment is too cold and he doesn’t want to spend money on the heater. “ Are you okay?,” he asked carefully.

“ Yeah, I just hate how people don’t know the real story but it’s whatever I have you to make me feel better,” you sigh as you hug your penguin tighter.

He laughs and grabs the stuffed animal, “ You still have this raggedy thing?”

“ I’m not gonna throw him away. It was a present,” you take it back in your arms. Yeah, it looks beaten down but it was something special you cherished.

“ Man, I still can’t believe you dated Jungkook in high school. Doesn’t it feel weird to have that since you guys are not dating?,” he hugs you closer to him, you feel his warm breath against your neck.

“ Nah, we are still good friends even if he is kind of an asshole,” one of your hands reaches back raking your fingers against his curls. He hums deeply, “ Are you jealous of Mr. Penguin?,” you teased him with the question.

“ Kind of,” he mutters and snuggles into your hair. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but you ignore it going back to sleep.

---

You grab an ice coffee for Taehyung and add sugar but a light tap halts you, turning you see a girl holding a phone zooming onto your face, “ Is this you?,” she asked you, eyes peering for a reaction. It was that stupid video from tiktok.

You laugh lightly, “ No, that is my twin,” you lie eaisly, you ignore her calls as you continue walking. You wait outside Taehyung’s office since he is talking to one of his students. The student adorably bows multiple times and thanks him, as she exits his room. “ She’s cute,” you comment as you enter his office with his coffee. He has his glasses on, along with his usual comfy aesthetic, there are a bunch of papers on the desk, and he looks the part as professor but clearly isn’t because he is a TA.

“ You are cute,” his large hand holds your hand giving it a quick kiss, while grabbing the coffee with his other hand and starts to gulp it. Today you were far from cute, you had no makeup, and you feel bloated because you were on your period. “ There’s an essay due about the elements of Gothic architecture and she was having a hard time about what to write,” he moves his hand as he talks, he finally sits down on his desk.

“ That sounds fun,” you sarcastically state. Sitting down on the chair you look on his desk and there’s a picture of you and him at the Louvre, it was two years ago that you guys spontaneously took a trip to Paris.

“ Sorry you aren’t a fan of art history,” he nudges you with his leg, “ Anyways let’s go to this new hotpot restaurant,” he gets up putting his laptop away along with his papers. “ Should we invite Jungkook?,” you asked while putting your seatbelt on in Taehyung's car.

“ No. It’s Y/N and Taehyung time,” he firmly states but his sparkly teeth show as he smiles.

---

“ You guys look closer than ever, which is weird because how can you guys possibly get closer,” Jungkook comments as you wash the dishes. It’s obvious that he is talking about Taehyung. Taehyung had been more clingy with you, almost every night sleeping in your bed and taking you to random restaurants without Jungkook.

“ What do you mean? We are always like that, you are just jealous that we don’t take you out anymore and pay for you,” you finish washing the last plate, you put the gloves away to dry. Jungkook crosses his arms which cause his biceps to bulge and you throw your head back with a laugh, “ Is that supposed to intimidate me?,” you lean against the counter.

He walks closer, “ Kinda, I’ve been working out,” he flexes it more. You roll your eyes and he stands right in front of you, “ So friends just invade other people’s personal space?,” his face comes closer to you, making eye contact with you. He’s provoking you and you just want to slap his smirk off his face. Jungkook lays his head against your neck, rubbing his nose against your neck, his body is against yours. “ This kind of reminds me of our first time, we did it in my parent’s kitchen when they weren’t home,” his hands gripped your waist.

You decided to play at his game, your hands reach his nape pulling his hair, “ But then you came the minute you put it in,” you whisper against his ear. You laugh as his face flush with embarrassment, you push him against his chest so he can give you space.

“ C’mon Y/N that wasn’t nice,” he groans, he tugs his situation in his grey sweatpants to not make it obvious that he has a boner. You stop laughing when you see Taehyung standing near the entrance of the kitchen, he has a blank face and goes to the fridge. Jungkook turned around looking at Taehyung as he quietly grabbed a coke, “ Hey Hyung, have you eaten? Y/N made dinner.”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook, “ I’m good,” he doesn’t even acknowledge you, walking away from the kitchen and you hear his door shut.

It’s quiet as you eat dinner alone and it is even quieter when you go to sleep by yourself. The bed feels more bigger and you might think it’s more comfortable but it’s not since you don’t have Taehyung hugging you like a pillow. The next morning you wake up late, Taehyung usually wakes you up and cooks you burnt toast with a shitload of jam but this time he’s already gone.

After class, you get his favorite coffee drink, and go to his office, there is another cute student talking to him. You peer through the window and see how happily he exchanges words with her. You wait until their session is done and she thanks him and he waves goodbye, you walk into his office. He looks at you but quickly reverts his gaze back at his laptop screen typing mindlessly. Placing the coffee on his desk, “ She’s cute,” you comment.

“ Yeah,” he says and continues typing, your heart lurches not expecting him to agree with you. There’s so much tension you feel like you are walking on eggshells.

“ Umm...are you okay?,” you ask timidly. You aren’t sure if he heard you since a minute goes by and he looks through his paper and then again types. There is sweat coming off your hands and wipe them down against your jeans,“ Taehyung?,” you speak just a decibel louder.

He closes his laptop, packing up his papers, throwing them harpazidly in his backpack, throwing the ice coffee that he hasn’t even got a sip of into the trash. “ I’m meeting with someone,” he brushes past you trying to exit his office. You grab his wrist before he can leave, “ Tae, are you mad at me?,” is the only question you can think of.

This is the first time he looks at you, it’s the first time he has ever shown anger at you, he yanks his hand back to himself and the feeling of the subtle warmth is gone from the palms of your hand. “ I just didn’t think you were the type of girl to cheat and try to fuck their ex in the kitchen,” he says seriously.

Cheating? Who were you cheating on? “ I wasn’t- Jungkook and I-,” you try to explain yourself but he wasn’t hearing any of it. He interrupts you, “ I don’t care anymore...I don’t want to see your face,” he jabs at you with a disgusted face one last time before leaving. There’s tears coming out and you quickly wipe them but they still stream down your cheeks. This is the first time in your friendship that you had a fight with Taehyung and it looks like it will be the last time you grab the tissue of his desk blowing your nose. The picture of you and Taehyung gleefully smiling in Paris is mocking you, you grab the picture and take it with you before he can also throw it away as easily as he did with the ice coffee.

You usually don’t like going to your parent’s house but this time you accept their invitation, planning to stay with them for a week, you already submitted all the assignments for classes and you could always look at the podcast lectures. There’s not much clothes you have to pack up since you hardly buy any new clothes and you usually borrow Taehyung's infinite amount of clothes, well used to. “ I’ll see you in a week,” you hug Jungkook goodbye.

“ Make sure you get some rest,” he walks you to the car, you nod and smile at him, waving him goodbye.

This is the last time you will ever visit your family, they make you do chores and take care of your nephews and nieces. It doesn’t even feel like you got any rest, you found a box under your bed and it’s filled with pictures of you and Taehyung, some of Jungkook but mostly of Taehyung. The more you shuffle through the pictures it gets harder to hold your tears. You have the urge to call him but you are afraid that he has you blocked.

---

It feels and sounds quiet in the apartment, Taehyung thinks to himself. Jungkook isn’t even making noise either which is odd since he is loud. He hasn’t seen you in three days, he was sure that he was going to eventually bump into around the house while you cook or get out of the shower but nothing, he hasn’t even seen light peek out of your door. He hears the door opening expecting it was you but it was Jungkook. Jungkook goes straight to the kitchen taking out a pan and vegetables out of the fridge, “ You want some Kimchi fried rice?,” Jungkook asks as he cuts some kimchi.

“ No,” Taehyung shakes his head and scrolls down on his instagram.

Jungkook sighs loudly, “ Wow this is going to suck. I have to start learning how to cook better since Y/N moved out.”

Taehyung drops his phone on the ground, “ What?,” he asked while walking towards the kitchen to where Jungkook is at.

Jungkook puts oil in the pan and adds onions, “ Yeah she moved out three days ago. She looked really sad, took everything she had and left.” Taehyung doesn’t believe him and enters her room, the bed looks empty, there are no comforters or pillows, he opens your drawers and is met with nothing, there are some skincare products on the table but those can easily be left behind. However there are pictures of you and Taehyung on the dresser, and he easily spots the one that he kept in his office. He walks back out and Jungkook looks like he is almost done cooking. “ You could be a real asshole Taehyung. Y/N would never do anything with me since she already whipped for you. The things you make her do and how she always does it because your Taehyung,” Jungkook says and finally turns off the stove.

“ What are talking about?,” Taehyung asked with hesitance.

“ Ask Y/N, why does she break up with people for you despite the many times she gets hurt from it. Ask her why does she spend so much money on your dumb ice americano? Ask her why she broke up with me in high school?,” Jungkook didn’t mean for the last question to come out but he’s tired of his two best friends being idiots. “ I’m going to eat in my room,” he leaves with a plate of Kimchi fried rice.

Taehyung sits in silence in his room thinking about your last conversation with him, and how he didn’t let you explain. How he yelled at you, how he threw his coffee, and how you looked like you wanted to cry. He hugged his pillow tightly desperately wishing that it was you and maybe if he thought hard enough you would appear.

---

“ Are you sure you don’t want to stay the whole week?,” your Mom asked while she helped you put your suitcase in your car. It’s the fourth day, six in the morning, and you don’t think you can last another day with her yelling at you to stop taking naps and to go grocery shopping with her.

Getting in your small car you sigh,“ Yeah, I have to go back. I forgot to turn something in for class,” you make up a lie.

“ What? Are you serious? Why didn’t you do that before when you came here, that’s very irresponsible-” Maybe on another day you can take her lecturing but not today.

“ Okay, bye Mom. Love you!,” you close your door waving at her as you leave the driveway.

It is expected for the apartment to be quiet since it’s early in the morning, you drag the suitcase quietly hoping that you won’t wake them up. Opening the door slowly, you are shocked to see a sleeping figure in your bed, your hand let’s go of the suitcase and you yelp trying to get it but it comes down crashing loudly on the wooden floor. Taehyung's head pops up from his small blanket, looking at you with wide eyes. “ I umm- I’m sorry. I’ll leave right now,” you pathetically try to excuse yourself. Taehyung said he didn’t want to see your face anymore so you hurry to pick up your things. Your shaky hands try to grab your suitcase but you are tackled into a hug, Taehyung’s arms engulf you trying to make you part of his body.

“ You came...I was scared that you were gone forever,” he whispers. “ I’m sorry for what I said. I was an asshole and didn’t let you speak. I hurt you in many ways that I never expected. Then Jungkook said you moved out…” he trailed off you couldn’t clearly hear him since his voice muffled in your hair.

“ Taehyung, let’s sit down and talk, okay?,” you asked him and brushed some of the strands of hair out of his face. He nods and sits down beside you and your bed, “ I wasn’t going to move out, I just went to visit my parents hoping that would relax me but it didn’t so I came back early,” you smile at him. “ Okay good,” he smiles back and scoots closer to you. “ Taehyung, I need to ask you something?,” you look away nervously.

“ Ask me,” he encourages and grabs your chin to look at you.

You swallow nervously, “ Are we together? I mean were we together? Since you said I cheated on you and I was kind of confused…” you trail off playing with your fingers.

He grabs your hands gently squeezing them “ Of course we were together. I mean we still are. Remember when you told me to ask you out?,” he asked, you nodded remembering it vividly, “ Well since that day we’ve been dating.” You didn’t think that was serious but it did make sense because of all the skinship he was doing and the places he would take out to eat. He did take you to the Han river and had a picnic during the night which you found oddly romantic but you didn’t think much into it. “ Y/N, I’m sorry,” he asked, kissing your hands.

“ It’s okay there was a misunderstanding. Next time, let’s talk before we act out on our emotions,” you tell him softly, before pecking him on his cheek. Turning quickly away so he won’t see you blushing in the morning sun. “ Help me set up comforters,” you get up, grabbing the comforters off the floor. He helps you set it up while complaining about how he missed you while you were gone, crying in your bed until Jungkook told him to shut up. You place Mr. Penguin on the bed and lay down hugging it.

Taehyung turns your body easily around so you're facing him, “ I actually didn’t know we were dating, I thought we were joking around,” your hand caresses his sharp jawline.

“ Idiot. I would never joke around about dating you,” he scoffs and takes the hand you were caressing him with, bringing it to his lips, kissing it softly. His lips move to your wrist, trailing up your forearm, arising goosebumps and leaving a giggly response from you, making him smile. Taehyung scoots closer to your neck so he can leave kisses there and you hug him closer when he kisses a particular spot that makes you squirm. The kisses trail upwards to your jaw, going closer to the area you wanted. He looks at you seeking permission and you pull him to feel your lips against his. It’s soft as you expected and you sigh happily at the feeling of his warmth. He pulls aways looking at you, “ That was nice,” he says as he moves over to hover you.

“ Yeah, it was,” you pull him down for another kiss, this time it’s more needier. Lips smacking at each other can be heard along with some heavy breathing. Your hands leave his tousled hair and go under his baggy sleeping shirt, feeling his naked back. You never thought you could feel Taehyung this way, but here are lightly trailing your fingers up and down his back. His mouth leaves yours kissing your neck and leaving marks here and there, he pulls the collar of your shirt down trying to get more access but gets frustrated. Laughing at him, you pull your shirt off, laying back down so he can kiss wherever he desires. His eyes sparkle at the sight of the swell of your breast, immediately leaving open mouth kisses that make you shudder with excitement. His large hands pull the cups of bra and his mouth envelopes your nipple, sucking while his other fondles with your other breast. Your pants are being louder and you can’t take anymore of the teasing. Your hands pull his hair as he lightly bites your nipple leaving you with pleasure and pain, “ Touch me Taehyung,” moaning at the end of the sentence.

“ Baby, I am touching you,” his lips leave your abused nipple and go to the other one giving it the same treatment. It looks like he enjoys you getting impatient since he is smiling at your frustration as you try to grind against him. “ No no no, touch me somewhere else,” you tell him shyly, you are never this coy with your partners but Taehyung just screams out dominance. His eyes darken and his mouth leave your nipple along with a string of salvia, his hand wipes his spit all over your chest. He sits up pulling off his shirt, his eyebrow arched, “ Where does my baby want to be touched?,” he asked, looking down on you. Your hand trails down to the button of your jeans, slightly tugging at it, refusing to tell him in words. His index finger tugs at the belt loop, “ You want me to touch your pussy?” Blushing at his words you nod, he takes off your jeans and looks at your panties, smirking at your evident arousal. He bends down and kisses above the hem of your panties before tugging them down your legs.

“ Please Tae,” you whine as he teasingly kisses the inside of your thighs, Taehyung finally listens to your words and eats you out like his favorite dessert, his hands holding your thighs up trying to taste more of you. Crying out in pleasure, as his tongue pays special attention to your clit and his two fingers slowly inched his way into your seeping hole. Afraid that you are making too much noise, you moan into your palm, his head lifts up and you whine at the loss of his tongue. “ Who told you you can cover your pretty mouth?,” Taehyung slaps your cunt, making you moan louder. “ Sorry,” you meekly let out but you desperately want to be punished again. He chuckles at your apology, rubbing your cunt to soothe the pain, “ Do you want me to fuck this needy pussy?”

“ Yes, I want you so bad,” you drawl at your words, hips rising and riding his long fingers. His fingers withdraw from you, quickly taking off his sweats and boxers, as you finally discard your bra. “ Spit,” he commands, his hand is below your mouth. Following his command, his large hand wraps around his impressive dick and you can’t wait for it to stretch you. Reaching to your drawer, you give him a condom and he puts it on. Taehyung slowly enters you and you feel an immediate stretch, your nails scratch his back at the slight pain. He kisses you to relax you and smile at his encouraging words. Moaning at the slow thrusting, the pain is completely gone, wanting to feel him deeper you tell him to fuck you harder. His hips move at fast pace and you can feel him in your stomach, “ You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna have to fuck you everyday,” he moans out. “ Gonna have to fuck you everywhere too, so Jungkook can no longer flirt with you,” he thrust deeper hitting that particular spot that makes your toes curl. Nodding deliriously you meet his thrust, eyes rolling back at the euphoric feeling of Taehyung fucking you good. Moaning his name louder, as he grabs your jaw forcing you to look at him, “ I’m the only one that makes you feel this good, right?,” he asked but he already knows the answer.

“ Only you, only Taehyung,” you scream out feeling his other hand rubbing your clit. “ No one else,” you confirm once more, pulling him down for a messy kiss. Your approach is coming, clenching around him harder, “ I’m gonna cum,” you claw his back more, “ Can I please cum?,” begging him.

Rubbing your clit faster, “ Yeah, fucking cum for me, scream out my name,” he gives your clit you couple smacks. Crying out his name you come loudly with your body shaking in pleasure. Taehyung's pace falters, groaning at your tight cunt swallowing him in, holding your body closer as he orgasms. Kissing you softly Taehyung pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash bin. “ How’s my baby?,” he asked while stroking your flush cheeks.

“ Good but kinda tired,” giving him a tired smile. “ Taehyung I like you so much,” you confess, holding his warm hand against your cheek. High school you would be so proud that you finally confessed to him.

Taehyung grabs your hand and kisses it, “ I like you so much more. I liked you since high school but I was afraid to tell you and then you started dating Jungkook. So I thought I can never be your type. But then you told me to ask you out, joke or not, I thought that was finally my chance to have you be my girl,” he softly speaks but there’s an underlying insecurity in voice. Your hands pull him close to your body causing him to squeal, his head is on top of your breast listening to your heartbeat, as one of your hands comb his hair.

“ I guess we are both idiots, I liked you since high school too. But here we are now in each other's arms, better late than never right?,” you sigh. His fingers trace shapes your stomach, “ Just gotta make up for the lost time,” he agrees and his hand trails down.

“ Yes but not now because I’m tired,” you grab his hand before it can go any further. He laughs and kisses your breast tenderly.

“ I’m just glad that Mr. Penguin got to see me fuck my girl,” he snuggles more into you with heavy eyelids.

You sleepy smile at his words, “ You are so weird.”

——————————————————————————

Do not repost, translate, or alternate my work in any way, onto any platform. I do not take plagiarism lightly.

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lillotte17 · 3 years

Text

Blossoms on a Bough

Fix-it/filler for the end of episode 36!!!

The first thing Wen Kexing notices, once his mind has floated up towards any sense of consciousness, is a bright cool light shining on his face. His brows twitch downwards in irritation, the intensity of it stinging his eyes even while they are still closed. His body feels like lead, and his thoughts are thick and muddy. He just wants to ignore the light and drift back off to sleep.

Wherever he is, he seems to have landed on something relatively soft and warm. It is surprising, since his general ideas about the netherworld involve darkness and cold, but he is certainly not going to complain. Perhaps, given the long list of his transgressions, his soul flew right past the Yellow River and dropped straight into hell, and now he is being fried in a pot just like that chicken that had chased Chengling around the Four Seasons Manor. The thought makes him want to laugh, but there is an odd tightness in his chest, so the best he can manage is an incredibly weak cough.

A faint rustling of cloth sounds by his ear as whatever he is reclining on shifts slightly. There is a vague sense of presence nearby, but he cannot tell more than that. Almost against his will, he cracks his eyes open to see who might be trapped in the stew pot with him, but there is only a dark looming blur surrounded by pale watery light. It makes him think of Zhou Zishu; his face bathed in sunshine, in moonshine, in starlight. He always seemed to glow with something intangible and dream-like. And Wen Kexing -helpless little month- could do nothing else but follow after it.

“Ah Xu,” he exhales in the barest of whispers.

A scent lingers in the air around him, crisp and lightly musky. It reminds him of burying his fingers in long dark tresses. Of the tenderness and care taken combing the tangles out of them afterwards. Of sliding his own hair pin into the carefully twisted knot at the crown of Zhou Zishu’s head. He should have brought him a different one to replace it, he thinks blearily. The key was most likely lost or broken in all of that snow, and now he will have nothing to remember him by.

This place is strange, wherever it is. Soothing and disorientating all at once. Is it some sort of hallucination? Did his soul get lost somewhere between life and death? Is he a true ghost now, doomed to wander the world in hopeless despair, witnessing joys he can no longer take part in? Thoughts spin around in his head in a billion tiny fragments. He cannot quite seem to catch hold of any of them, or arrange them in a pattern that makes sense.

“Am I dead?” he wonders aloud, his voice thin and raspy, not expecting an answer.

“You fucking better not be,” a cross reply rumbles out from somewhere above him.

Wen Kexing blinks. The sun still burns his eyes, but after a few moments of intense squinting, the dark blur leaning over him reconfigures itself into a familiar and beloved face. Zhou Zishu, leaning back against a dusty wall with Wen Kexing pulled more than half way into his lap.

“What…happened?” Wen Kexing wonders, head positively spinning in bafflement. Now that he is waking up a bit more, he is becoming more aware of his body’s aches and pains. It feels like a horse kicked him in the chest and then he fell into a river and drowned. Even wincing hurts.

“Something went wrong with the ritual,” Zishu tells him. His voice is raw and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks as haggard as Wen Kexing feels. “You collapsed. Your heart meridians were severely damaged, and your hair turned white. You must have used too much of your internal force. It has been more than three days since you lost consciousness and…I thought…”

His voice splinters and he trails off, looking away from him for a moment.

“But…it worked?” Wen Kexing presses, trying to feebly grip at Zhou Zishu’s sleeve, “You can hear me talking again now, so that means that it worked, right? The rest is fine, so long as it saved you.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Zhou Zishu answers, the first traces of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Yes. You are here.” Wen Kexing echoes, as though he still cannot quite believe it, “And…I am here, too.”

“You are.” Zishu confirms, his arms tightening around him, carefully tugging him up until he is all but leaning into his chest. “It was a near thing, though. My medical knowledge is limited, and even with the Yin Yang book, I was not certain that I could heal you.”

“Rong Xuan’s wife allegedly used the teachings in the book to heal his heart meridians and other serious injuries when he was near death several times over,” Wen Kexing hums thoughtfully, casually tilting his head against Zishu’s shoulder, “But she was an experienced physician. You have had no training, and yet you saved me on the first try. You must possess some kind of natural affinity for it. Ah Xu, you have so many talents, I am having a hard time keeping track of them all.”

“It had nothing to do with affinity,” Zhou Zishu huffs, sounding exasperated and perhaps even the tiniest bit embarrassed, “It was pure dumb luck.”

“Eh?”

“The Four Seasons Sect has a special technique that cripples someone’s heart meridians,” he explains somberly, a humorless smirk on his face, “I used it against Prince Jin to keep him alive, but bedridden. My master taught it to me, and as far as I know, I am the only one left alive who knows how to perform it.”

“That is very interesting, Ah Xu, but I am not certain I understand what it has to do with dumb luck,” Wen Kexing says smilingly.

“My master…he also told me how to counter the technique, so that the person’s heart meridians could be healed again and their qi could flow properly,” Zhou Zishu continues, turning his head slightly to directly meet Wen Kexing’s gaze. “I did not have much hope when I opened the Yin Yang book. You were slipping away, and there was no time for in-depth research. But…when I found the section detailing how someone with damaged meridians might be cured, it was obvious that…the techniques I learned from my master were based on this knowledge.”

“So…that means…my parents…?” Wen Kexing looks a bit lost at the revelation.

Zhou Zishu nods.

“It is likely that Lady Yue Feng’Er and your parents shared this precious knowledge with their friends, and possibly even helped my master develop this skill. I was only able to save you because of this.”

Wen Kexing furrows is brows, his thoughts whirling and his emotions complex. He seemingly stares at the dark blue of Zhou Zishu’s lapels for what feels like ages, looking but not seeing, pensive and moody. Finally, he lets out a very tired-sounding sigh.

“And I only managed to save you because that dumb bastard Rong Xuan stole the manual for the Six Cultivation Techniques,” he says, sounding bitter, “But maybe no one would have needed all this saving in the first place if that old monster had never let his idiot disciple leave the mountain to begin with.”

Zhou Zishu frowns down at him.

“I know, I know,” he mumbles, a bit sulky, “The past is past. Zhao Jing was punished and the rest are dead. There is no point stewing on it now. I have just…been angry about it for so long, sometimes I forget that I don’t have to be anymore. Be patient with me, Ah Xu.”

“Hm?” Zishu blinks, as though suddenly coming back to himself. “Oh, it wasn’t about that.”

“Then what?”

“I was just thinking that…it really could not have been anyone else,” Zhou Zishu tells him slowly, intensity burning in his dark eyes. “I said it was only dumb luck, because I never believed in destiny all that much before. If you want to achieve something in this world, you have to be willing to create it for yourself. But…for things to end up this way… It had to be you, and it had to be me, didn’t it?”

Wen Kexing bursts out laughing, utterly delighted.

“I always knew you had a soft heart beneath that tough exterior,” he grins, slightly breathless, with an almost pleasant ache in his ribs, “But Ah Xu, I never imagined that you were secretly a romantic.”

“Shut up,” Zishu grunts, pinching his arm until he yelps, “Who is romantic?”

“Ai, there is no need to be shy about it now, is there?” Wen Kexing says pleadingly, giggling to himself all the while, “There is no one here except us.”

“That’s right,” Zhou Zishu agrees blithely, a truly terrifying expression stealing across his face, “There is no one on this entire mountain except for you and me.”

“Ah Xu, don’t do anything rash,” Wen Kexing cajoles with a hint of genuine nervousness, “I only teased you a little bit, and I am still in such a delicate state of health. If you throw me out in the snow and beat me, I really won’t be-”

Zhou Zishu kisses him then, and whatever he won’t be promptly flies out of his head like a startled flock of birds.

The kiss is softer than he would have guessed, if he had gotten a moment to anticipate it. Clumsy, but tender. Hasty, but sincere. The mouth pressed so suddenly against his own trembles just slightly right before it pulls away. A thousand years too soon.

It is nowhere near the first time they have kissed each other, but Wen Kexing is almost always the instigator. It suits his own preferences to take the lead in most physical forms of intimacy anyway, so he would never complain about it. However, it does make the times Zhou Zishu reaches for him first feel more…something. Something that makes his heart full, and his eyes itch.

It makes him feel as though he is not only being accepted by this man, but chosen by him, too. As his partner. As his equal. As his friend. Lovers and soulmates and all the rest.

Wen Kexing is not certain that anyone else has ever chosen him before.

Not when there were other, better, options on hand, at any rate.

He swallows thickly, gazing up at Zhou Zishu with wide, startled eyes. Little flecks of cold mountain sunlight catch in the dark sweep of the other man’s hair almost like snowflakes. His grin is wide and fierce. Buoyant and hopeful in a way he has never been in all the time they have known each other. He looks impossibly beautiful, and horribly pleased with himself for managing to derail Wen Kexing’s usual babbling. There might be the slightest touch of pink to his ears, though.

“Ah Xu,” Wen Kexing chokes out.

I love you.

But the words get stuck in his throat.

“What?” Zishu laughs, “Do you ever get tired of calling me?”

“No.” Wen Kexing offers him a weak smile in return, shifting out of his hold a little so they can sit facing one another.

Zhou Zishu heaves an exasperated sigh, but his eyes remain bright, his expression one of incalculable fondness.

“Is that all you were saying during the ritual?” he wonders, half joking, “You just sat there calling my name?”

“Huh?”

“You said earlier that you had tried speaking to me, but my hearing had gone,” Zhou Zishu reminds him, “What did you say?”

“Oh, yes, it was mostly just your name over and over,” Wen Kexing nods, “Plus a few embarrassing personal anecdotes I felt like sharing. Once I knew you had no way to stop me, I really couldn’t help myself.”

“Lao Wen.”

“Yes, Ah Xu?”

“After all we have been through together, what could you possibly still have to tell me that you think I would be unwilling to hear?”

Wen Kexing makes a face, caught outright.

“It…is not so much a matter of thinking you would not hear me out,” he admits carefully, “It is more that there are just things that are difficult to say to someone. The more important they are to you, the harder it gets, so between you and me… But when a man feels his end has come, all sorts of things seem to tumble out unwillingly.”

Zhou Zishu looks positively stricken.

“You could tell that the cultivation technique was backfiring?” he hisses out, gasping Wen Kexing by the shoulders, “And you still kept going?”

“What else could I do?” Wen Kexing asks helplessly, “If I had stopped wouldn’t we both die? Would it be better if I had starved to death with your corpse in my arms? Besides, that old monster promised me that this technique could save you, so no matter what the cost was going to be, of course I-”

“So, you knew there would be a cost already?” Zhou Zishu cuts him off, expression like a brewing storm cloud, “You knew this was likely going to injure you, and you did not even think to warn me first? We could have prepared beforehand! You could have looked through the Yin Yang book and point out things that I could use to help you in an emergency! Dammit, Lao Wen, I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this!”

“Was there really time for things like that?” Wen Kexing argues back, “Your senses were already dying out one by one, if we did not try the technique as soon as possible, you might not have been able to complete it! If I told you how risky it is, would you agree to it? Would you still let me try to save you?”

“I deserve the right to make that choice!” Zhou Zishu shouts hoarsely.

“You do!” Wen Kexing agrees just as hotly, “But I owe it to Chengling to save his family. And I owe it to our master to save his teachings. And I owe it to you most of all. I ruined your chance at happiness. To rebuild the Four Seasons with Chengling and the other new disciples. You threw it all away to try and avenge me… The number of people in this world who have been good to me are few enough to count on one hand. I would do anything for them, and you most of all. How could I live without repaying this debt?”

“And what if I hadn’t been able to save you?!” Zhou Zishu demands thunderously.

“I didn’t expect you to save me!”

For a few moments, the words seem to echo of the cold walls of the armory, bouncing back at them over and over. The silence that follows after them is deafening. Zishu’s eyes are red, and his hands are trembling on Wen Kexing’s biceps, but he looks as though he is about to breathe fire.

“Good,” he says finally, his voice low and deadly, “Very good. You feel like you owe me so much, but all you want to do is torture me.”

“What?” Wen Kexing baulks, “No! Ah Xu, that’s not what I-”

But before he can finish the thought Zhou Zishu has already pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace, his breathing erratic, and his face buried in the side of his neck. Wen Kexing makes a pained grunt, his ribs still tender from previous injury. It only makes Zishu’s grip on him tighten, however, holding onto him with a furious desperation.

“In such a short stretch of time, I have had to see you dead or dying before my eyes over and over again,” he mumbles thickly into the silk of Wen Kexing’s robes, “You spent all this time chasing me down, pestering me to let you stay by my side, begging me not to die, and telling me to find things to feel hopeful about. But now it seems as though you are set on leaving me behind.”

“I never wanted to leave you,” Wen Kexing protests, but his voice seems to have lost all of its strength, “I just wanted to keep you safe. Even if I died, and you had to be sad for a while, you have so much left to live for, and I wanted you to have it. I just wanted you to be…happy.”

“Bastard,” Zhou Zishu laughs wetly, “Wen Kexing, you really are…the absolute worst sort of person.”

Wen Kexing sags in his embrace, his heart plummeting down into the pit of his stomach. His head droops, white hair falling across his eyes. Utterly defeated.

“I know.”

Zhou Zishu finally pulls back from him. There are obvious tear tracks down his cheeks, but he still looks fierce, regardless. He takes Wen Kexing roughly by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“You are also…my happiness.”

Wen Kexing gapes at him, for once in his life completely at a loss for words. Seeing an opening, Zhou Zishu takes the opportunity to kiss him again. Harsher this time. Brief and chaste and biting. It does not seem to help the other man’s sense of bafflement in the slightest. Indeed, Lao Wen looks as though his soul might have just flown straight out of his body.

Zishu smiles at him again, but there is still something sharp and wounded at its edges.

“Eternity would be an empty place without you,” he says quietly, “How could you leave me to bear it alone?”

“I…I’m…sorry,” Wen Kexing sputters, as though he does not know what else to say. He finally reaches back for Zhou Zishu, cautiously taking hold of his wrists. The ache in his chest seems to have spread outward, and he is shaking so badly that he fears he might not be able to sit up straight much longer. “I’m sorry. I just did not… I did not know how else to save you.”

“Mn,” Zhou Zishu nods in understanding, “I suppose I can forgive you for it this time, although some part of me still would like nothing so much as to throw you outside and beat some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

“I will accept any punishment you want to give me,” Wen Kexing tells him earnestly.

“Alright,” Zhou Zishu grins, “Then pay me back with your whole life. Stay alive, and stay with me. Always.”

Wen Kexing blinks in surprise, but the next moment he is laughing. Dizzy with relief and unexpected joy. Marveling at the gifts that fate has blessed him with after so many years of hatred and heartache.

“I can do that.”

When Zhou Zishu wakes up later that night Wen Kexing is sitting at the opposite end of their makeshift bed in nothing but his under robe. His back is facing him, and he takes a moment to stare at the snowy cascade of his hair. The living proof of what Lao Wen would sacrifice for him. It looks beautiful on him, as everything else seems to, but Zishu thinks he prefers the rich dark brown that he was born with. This new color comes with a twinge of guilt.

Not that he would ever say so.

“Lao Wen,” he calls softly, “What are you doing?”

Wen Kexing’s shoulders stiffen in surprise.

“Don’t come over,” he replies, “I’m not finished yet.”

“Ai,” Zishu grins, scooting close enough to lightly tug at a few strands of that bone white hair, “But that just makes me want to come over even more.”

“I have a knife,” Lao Wen says coolly, “I will use it if I have to.”

“You left our bed in the middle of the night to play with a knife?” Zishu laughs, not intimidated in the least. “Why?”

“If you stop pestering me for a few minutes maybe you’ll find out,” Wen Kexing snaps. Zhou Zishu is not fooled, though. He had caught the sharp inhale of breath when he had said the words ‘our bed’, and he is all but certain that Lao Wen’s threats are empty.

“But you’ll catch cold,” he coaxes, slipping his arms about his waist and pressing a kiss into his shoulder. He obligingly resists the urge to peek at whatever secret Wen Kexing is fiddling with, though. The other man sighs, but does nothing to discourage him, as expected.

“The next time you accuse me of being insufferable, I want you to remember this conversation,” Wen Kexing says wryly.

“It must be your bad influence,” Zhou Zishu chuckles.

Wen Kexing hums noncommittally, going back to whatever he had been working on before. Zhou Zishu sits patiently behind him, leaning into the warm curve of his back, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the faint scraping sound of a blade chipping away at something. The proximity is comfortable, and the quiet almost meditative, and before long Zishu is already half way back to being asleep.

“Alright,” Lao Wen says finally, carefully pulling himself free of Zhou Zishu’s arms and turning to face him, “You can look now.”

Zishu has to shake himself a little to wake up again, but once he does, he finds that Lao Wen is holding out what appears to be an oddly shaped icicle.

“…What is it?” he asks after a few moments of trying to puzzle it out for himself.

Wen Kexing frowns.

“It’s a hair pin,” he tells him, as though it should be obvious.

“Ah.”

“What do you mean, saying ‘ah’ with such a doubting face?” Wen Kexing huffs in annoyance, “Of course it is a hair pin, what else would it be? You lost the one I gave you before, so now I have to give you a new one to replace it.”

“I lost the one you gave me before?” Zhou Zishu laughs.

“That’s right,” Wen Kexing nods seriously, “But I promise not to be mad about it.”

“Philanthropist Wen is too kind.”

“It’s true,” Lao Wen sighs dramatically, “People are always taking advantage of my generous nature.”

He firmly places the hair pin in Zhou Zishu’s hands. Upon closer inspection, it looks to be roughly shaped like a tree branch. There are two lumpy circles that might be meant to be flowers attempting to bloom from it. The finished product is crude, but the ice is clear and crystalline. Pretty, even despite the skill level of the craftsman.

“It is meant to be plum blossoms,” Wen Kexing admits somewhat sheepishly, “One bloom for each of us. There was meant to be a bud for Chengling, too, but I accidentally broke it off. Hopefully, that is not an inauspicious sign for him.”

“I see,” Zhou Zishu says, because he does see, and just like the morning he had woken up to find the Four Seasons Manor cleaned and Wen Kexing diligently repairing his master’s old painting, he feels very much like he wants nothing more than to pull the other man into his arms again.

“Ah Xu, will you accept it?” Wen Kexing asks, slightly trepidatious at his lack of reaction.

“Of course,” Zishu smiles easily, “But it’s made of ice, after all. If I wear it, it will likely melt or break in a day or so.”

“If it breaks, I will just make you a new one,” Wen Kexing says, his eyes soft. He plucks the hair pin from Zhou Zishu’s fingers, reaching up and carefully sliding it into the loose knot at the base of his ponytail. “I can make you a new one every day, if I have to. With any luck, they will eventually look less ugly.”

He takes Zhou Zishu’s hands in his own.

“There are still things I am not good at saying,” he tells him, “Things that I want to share with you. Things that you deserve to hear. Right now, my skills are not enough, but just like with the hair pin, if I keep working at it every day, eventually I can give you something worth having.”

Zhou Zishu tugs him down into his embrace. He thinks about kissing him. About pushing him down and pulling his robe open and showing him, again, how very much he is wanted. But Lao Wen is still recovering from injuries, and it would be a shame to snap his new hair pin tussling around in the sheets. So, he makes do with holding him close, for now. Tangling his fingers in hair the color of starlight.

“Say them, or don’t say them,” he says quietly against the shell of Wen Kexing’s ear, “Whatever they are, they have no bearing on your worth to me.”

“Doesn’t that seem like my current value is lower than mud?” Wen Kexing laughs nervously.

“It means you are treasured,” Zishu corrects him firmly, “There is no price that I would sell you for.”

“I suppose that means I can stop living in fear that you would truly try and sell me to a brothel.”

“You really are a brat.”

“Ah Xu?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

#word of honor #faraway wanderers #word of honor spoilers #wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #fic #this story did not listen to me AT ALL #these two NEVER listen to me!!!#I wanted to write domestic fluff about hair brushing #but noooo

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benandstevesposts · 3 years

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The Police Department So Bad ––– A Officer Called Black Lives Matter ––– And Complained

A new lawsuit accuses a police department with a history of alleged horrors—KKK magazines left for a Black cop, racist slurs—of firing a policeman who finally blew the whistle.

Over his year of service in the department of Millersville, Tennessee; Black had allegedly been subjected to sexual harassment, including from a female officer who used a racist slur while grabbing his genitals.

The police chief, whom Black suspected of harboring Ku Klux Klan ties, had allegedly made disparaging comments about Black’s biracial son.

The assistant police chief was under investigation for allegedly assaulting his wife during a dispute over an alleged affair with a drug suspect.

Through it all, management allegedly silenced officers’ complaints by instructing them to support the “thin blue line.”

“Nobody would listen to what was going on up there,” Black told The Daily Beast. “Nobody cared.”

So Black made a fake Facebook profile, reached out to Black Lives Matter organizers, and blew the whistle on his department. Days later, he was fired. At least two other officers who allegedly clashed with management departed soon thereafter.

In a new lawsuit, first reported by Nashville’s NewsChannel 5, Black and former Millersville Police sergeant Joshua Barnes describe a culture of harassment and intimidation in their former department. Both men cite a pattern of alleged racist behavior from the department’s leadership—directed at Barnes because he is Black, and at Black because he is white with a biracial son.

The lawsuit’s three defendants are Millersville Police chief Mark Palmer, assistant chief Dustin Carr, and the city of Millersville. Carr did not return The Daily Beast’s request for comment. Palmer stated that, although he would like to address the suit’s allegations, all comments must be directed through the city and its manager. Millersville’s city manager did not return requests for comment.

The case is not the first time Palmer and the city have faced a lawsuit from within their ranks. In 2015, two men who had previously been Millersville’s only Black officers sued Palmer and the city, alleging racial discrimination.

In their lawsuit, which was dismissed with prejudice in 2016, both men claimed Palmer had told each of them that “I don’t like n-----s.” One of the former officers, Anthony Hayes, claimed Palmer took him on an unexplained visit to a former KKK leader’s home, where Hayes “was subjected to an extended conversation in the presence of KKK memorabilia.” Hayes also accused Palmer of placing a copy of a KKK magazine in Hayes’ locker, with a sticky note that read “this was left for you—don’t let your subscription run out.” In their response to the lawsuit, the city denied the allegations against Palmer. (The plaintiffs included in their lawsuit an email from the city manager stating that Palmer would be disciplined in the magazine incident.)

The above photo is a stock photo. It is not intended to suggest any individual is directly involved with this report. Its use depicts the association and the ideology of closed mindedness, police associations are alleged of having when dealing with public groups.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Hayes and the other former officer, Brian McCartherenes, claimed to have been forced out of their posts after they accused the department of racism. Hayes claimed he was “forced to resign” following a punitive shift change. A police memo shows that McCartherenes was fired for alleged racist conduct, because he told a new Black officer that “at the end of the day, remember you are Black.”

“This KKK publication is not something you can go get at the library. You can’t go buy it at the 7/11. These publications are like, homemade...”

McCatherenes claimed he intended the statement as a warning about the risks of being a Black officer in a small town. That new officer was Joshua Barnes, one of the plaintiffs in the latest suit against Millersville’s police brass.

Barnes claims he soon encountered a culture of racism firsthand. Palmer called Black people “n-----s,” “monkeys,” and “animals,” Barnes alleges in his suit, adding that Palmer invoked racial stereotypes about Barnes “always want[ing] to get some fried chicken and watermelon.”

Barnes claims the legacy of Millersville’s previous Black officers lingered over his own employment. Assistant police chief Dustin Carr “informed Sgt. Barnes that Millersville did not want to hire Black people because they may sue the City ‘like Anthony [Hayes] and Brian [McCartherenes] did,’” the lawsuit alleges. Barnes claims the department hired only one other Black person during his tenure: an officer whom Palmer allegedly joked was related to O.J. Simpson. The officer lasted “a few months before he left out of frustration due to Mark Palmer’s racist comments,” the suit reads.

When Robert Black joined the force in June 2019, he had been unaware of its reputation. That changed quickly, he claims, when Palmer learned that Black’s son is biracial. The lawsuit claims Palmer expressed dissatisfaction with Black, telling another officer that “Robert is a little different. He’s not one of us.” When the other officer asked what Palmer meant, the chief allegedly replied “well you know, his kid and all… He’s just not one of us.”

Black told The Daily Beast that Palmer started treating him with hostility around the time of the alleged comments. Other Millersville officers also allegedly turned against Black. A female officer allegedly made repeated unwanted advances toward Black. At one point, according to the lawsuit, the officer allegedly grabbed Black’s genitals through his pants. When Black told the colleague to leave him alone, she allegedly responded “why? Because I’m not a n----r?”

Although Black claims to have reported his colleague, his supervisors allegedly refused to pursue the matter, with Carr allegedly making his own sexualized comments about Black. (Black told The Daily Beast that Carr gave the nickname “Tripod” in the office. “It made me feel very weird,” Black said, adding that other officers picked up on the name before he learned it was an innuendo.)

Carr, meanwhile, was facing other accusations of impropriety after he allegedly began a relationship with a Millersville woman who was charged, but never convicted, on multiple drug counts. Carr was married at the time. In April 2020, according to Barnes and Black’s lawsuit, Carr allegedly assaulted his wife when she accused him of infidelity. Carr began bringing his new partner into the office in May “much to the chagrin” of some officers, the lawsuit alleges.

What Happened When Cops Joined MAGA Hellsite Parler JUST LOOKING AROUND

That month marked another flashpoint for law enforcement. The murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer set off nationwide protests, allegedly enraging Palmer. In the lawsuit, Barnes claims to have witnessed Palmer watching a video of a protest in Nashville, during which Palmer allegedly called the demonstrators “n-----s” and “animals.” “Let these motherfuckers come to my house,” the lawsuit claims Palmer said. “I’ll shoot ’em and string those fuckers up in my front yard.”

In August 2020, Nashville’s WSMV reported, the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation began investigating Carr for alleged domestic violence. (A TBI spokesperson told The Daily Beast the investigation into Carr “remains active and ongoing.”)

Barnes and Black allege that Carr and other police leadership became convinced that officers were leaking details to investigators. According to the lawsuit, and an October 2020 report by NewsChannel 5, Millersville Police pressured officers not to cooperate with the TBI investigation. “Chief Palmer berated Barnes about the ‘thin blue line,’ and the need to cover for other officers,” the lawsuit alleges.

But while Palmer allegedly warned officers against speaking to TBI officials, Black was ready to go public with a growing dossier of complaints. Following Palmer’s alleged remarks about Black’s son, Black had read up on Hayes’ and McCartherenes’ 2015 lawsuit, particularly Hayes’ account of finding a KKK magazine in his locker.

“This KKK publication is not something you can go get at the library. You can’t go buy it at the 7/11. These publications are like, homemade, produced on someone’s printing press. It’s hate literature,” Black told The Daily Beast.

The rarity of the publication, plus Palmer’s alleged field trip with Hayes to a former KKK house, led Black to suspect the police chief had current or former Klan ties of his own.

“You can’t find this anywhere,” Black said of the magazine. “That’s why I hit up BLM [Black Lives Matter] reps. I was like, ‘hey y’all…’”

“Nobody would listen to what was going on up there. Nobody cared.”

THAT WAS ABOUT TO CHANGE!

Black said that in September 2020, he made a pseudonymous Facebook page and began seeking out Nashville-area Black Lives Matter activists. “I started letting them know: hey guys, maybe you want to look into the police chief up here. It’s a small city and everyone’s so focused on Nashville. This guy was apparently in a KKK lawsuit by a Black cop five years ago.”

Find out how the story concludes. Visit the reports origin - where the author Kelly Weill - introduced the piece. The ending is worth the the click! Besides you have only a short - paragraph or two to go... Go to https://www.thedailybeast.com/author/kelly-weill and read the final paragraphs of this report. It is worth your time and take time to click on social media links so you can follow the story to keep tuned to future updates from Daily Beast concerning this story.

This piece is shared as a service groff-swintMedia.com llc™ galaxy8news.com a gathering of news, information, and unique perspectives from coast to coast, border to border, sea to shining sea, extending your voice, and those of others, into the galaxy. Visit and find your story there today! Galaxy8news.com

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joonsdiary · 4 years

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the first date

↳ part two of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing. ceo!seokjin x hotelier!reader (female) genre. arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and a sprinkle of angst word count. 3,0k

chapter summary. having your first date after getting proposed to definitely seems backwards, but you’ll do anything to keep a semblance of ownership of your hotel.

⇀ alternatively. will seokjin live up to his reputation and sweep you off your feet? or will it be just another business meeting for you and him both?

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Did he say eight on the dot? Or a little after eight?”

Your heels clicked against the marble floor as you paced back and forth at the lobby of Hwang Hotel, irritating Joohyun who stood behind the front desk. You were unsure why you were feeling nervous like a teenager. It wasn’t like you haven’t gone on dates either — you had just gone on one yesterday, no matter how terrible it had been.

“You’re making me nauseous,” she deadpanned but her complaint did nothing to deter your rhythm.

“Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

“What’s got you so jittery, anyway?” she picked up a clementine from the complimentary bowl in front of her and began peeling the fruit carefully. “I thought you said this morning that you weren’t going to let him under your skin.”

“I’m not,” you snapped at her, but she only gave you a smirk. “I’m just unsure how this will go. He’s practically well-versed when it comes to the female anatomy.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased, and the realization of your statement sent your pulse humming. You snatched a piece of orange from her, the taste of citrus reminding you of the night prior. “The bashful look on your face says it all, honey.”

She winked, and you could only reply with an eye roll.

“You’ll be fine, I’m sure you’ll knock him dead with your usual charm.” Joohyun encouraged.

“I don’t even know if we’re on the same playing field,” you chewed the bottom of your lip nervously.

“If anything, you’re way out of his league. Trust me.”

You rolled your shoulders back in an attempt to calm down.

“You’re right. If anything, this will be exactly like a business meeting. I mean, it’s not like any of this is real anyway.”

But the façade can only go so far before you began breaking down once more.

“Why did I even agree to this?” you groaned, leaning the weight of your hips against the cold marble desk.

“Because,” Joohyun leaned over and grab both your shoulders, “you love this place too much to see it be gentrified by those good-for-nothing billionaires.”

“I don’t know…this place could use a little fixing up.” You turned your head to see Seokjin, immaculate as ever while donning a grey slim fit suit that accentuates his broad shoulders. His shiny black shoes glint underneath the bright lights of the hotel, and you think to yourself how much more expensive they probably were than your whole outfit alone.

“Future wife.” He greeted, right hand hovering the small of your back. You flinched away from his touch and his frown doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Mr. Kim.”

He inhaled sharply through his gritted teeth and Joohyun snorted, unable to hold back her own amusement. It was your turn to wink at her before turning to address Seokjin.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. Let me just grab my coat.”

* * *

“Where are we going?”

Seokjin stopped at a red light, loosening his grip on the wheel before turning his full attention towards you.

“You know that new restaurant a few blocks from— ”

“Absolutely not,” you looked up at him in horror, and Seokjin’s eyebrows raised inquisitively. “I was there last night, and it was the most terrible experience I’ve ever had. They barely served real food.”

You rolled your eyes and shivered with disgust to make your point, but Seokjin was more interested in why you were there, instead.

“You were there last night? Don’t take this as an insult, but I didn’t peg you as the type.”

The light turned green, and he cursed the traffic from taking his attention away from you.

“None taken. It was totally not my scene. But if you must know,” he felt you shift in your seat as you continued, “I was there for a date.”

Oh.

Unprompted, Seokjin swerved to the farthest lane on the right, jamming his foot on the break. This sent you hurtling towards the dashboard, but the seatbelt thankfully held you back from getting hurt.

“Chateau’s it is,” Seokjin said resignedly. He didn’t like the new place either, anyway. It was more of his younger brother’s scene rather than his. He wasn’t sure what type of restaurant you preferred — or if you even cared for that matter — so when Taehyung suggested an allegedly popular place that had just opened, he’d agreed.

“A little warning would be nice.” You grumbled under your breath, but he didn’t make the effort to apologize.

He pulled his foot away from the break as he steered to the left, swiftly making a U-turn.

“Nice to know my fiancée is going around on dates. The press will love that, for sure.” Seokjin aimed for nonchalance, but his voice dripped with discontent more than he wanted it to.

“Oh, please, I barely garner any attention. And it’s not like we’ve officially revealed our engagement, so the public has no reason to speculate,” you stated pointedly.

She’s right, Jin. Be reasonable.

“Also, I was doing it out of spite for my parents.”

“Of course.”

Did that mean the dress you wore when he came by Hwang Hotel was because were on a date with some random egghead hours prior? The thought had him gripping the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles grew white. He thought you looked breathtaking in a classic mini black dress with your legs that went on for days. Seokjin licked his lips, his mouth running dry. Lucky bastard, whoever he was.

His eyes flitted briefly to your knees, only to discover it’s covered by cream-coloured slacks. Disappointment coursed through his veins when you’d dressed up more like a business arrangement rather than a dinner date.

Duh, this is a business arrangement.

“Besides, weren’t you also on a date just a few days ago? Daily Gossip said so.” He smirked at your accusation, and from the dim streetlights they passed through he could make out your unimpressed expression.

“You actually read that tabloid crap?”

“No. Yoongi told me.”

He did a double-take on the unfamiliar name. Was he the lucky date from last night? Seokjin would have to figure that out later.

“Don’t worry, future wife. Unlike you, I’ve been a faithful fiancé,” Seokjin grinned wickedly, liking your stunned expression a little too much. “It was strictly business.”

“With the president’s daughter?” you pressed on, unknowingly feeding his ego.

“Aren’t you ever the little sleuth,” he turned to you before winking. “We’re here, fiancée.”

He exited his side of the car before promptly opening your door. He took your hand, before placing it on the crook of his elbow.

* * *

Seokjin ate up the attention like he was a man who hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks. You had your doubts about actual paparazzi showing up, but despite the last-minute decision to hightail to Chateau’s, the camera’s flashing in his direction. To be fair, it’s not as if they were all professionals; some were regular folks who just so happened to recognize him. You secured the loose strands of your hair and slid away from him without him noticing.

The moment of unbridled freedom only lasted a few seconds, as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer towards him. He leaned forward, lips brushing the tips of your earlobes.

“Don’t you dare move away when the cameras are pointed right at us,” his voice rumbled low in his chest, sending a shiver down your back where his hand rested comfortably.

“Um, we didn’t make a reservation. Unless you own the place, I don’t think we can get in on a whim,” you gathered your hands in front of you, unsure where to place them. Seokjin looked at you with slight amusement tugging the corner of his lips. Your eyes widened in late realization. Of course, he owns the damn restaurant.

As soon as he waltzed in the place, the waiter did not even bat an eyelash and immediately guided you to a semi-secluded spot near the back. It felt low-key enough for a private conversation, while also allowing a few eyes to speculate and linger.

“What would you like?” Seokjin asked as he flipped through the menu with a blasé attitude. You watched the waiter pour champagne in two flute glasses.

“Anything goes for me,” you shut your menu with a soft thud, not bothering to go through the whole list. You weren’t really feeling like dinner anymore, craving Yoongi’s sweet and sour fried chicken, instead.

Seokjin eyed you with suspicion, but you gave him a curt smile. He handed the waiter the menu and proceeded to order an array of delicacies without a pause. You’ve been to Chateau’s only once during your college days and only because you lost a bet, so it was probably safer to let him handle everything.

“At this point, I won’t be surprised if all the property in downtown Seoul belongs to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t purchase government buildings.” His arrogance seemed to prickle your skin, and every second he kept that ridiculous smile on made you want to claw your eyes out.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” you folded your arms protectively as the fabric of the blouse you wore chafed the skin on your forearm. It took you awhile to put together an outfit that didn’t seem to forward or eager (because you definitely weren’t eager) so, you went with something you would normally wear to work.

“You weren’t about the lawyer life your parents had, so you decided to go into business?”

Nodding mutely, his inquisition brought about your parents’ disappointed faces at your refusal to take over the family’s firm. Being their only daughter, your estrangement only placed a wedge on your already strained relationship. You were never attracted to their uptight lifestyle, and perhaps if you had a different outlook on how other lawyers’ lives were, you’d change your mind.

They weren’t always like that, however, especially your father. But things started changing when they you realized they were grooming you to become like them, which was something you didn’t want.

“Something like that.”

“You weren’t aware of them selling the hotel, though?”

“No. I was idiotic enough to trust them with the financial side of the business, thinking they’d somehow have better insight than me. They never mentioned the hotel had been swimming in debt for a while now,” you heaved a sigh as the food arrived. Undeterred by the presence of the waiter, you continued. “Then again it’s probably what they wanted so I’d crawl back to them and ask repentance for my sins.”

“The prodigal son,” he suggested. You laughed softly, nodding. “Is that why you’re pushing to finish your masters?”

“Colour me impressed, Mr. Kim. Your research is thorough,” he rolled his eyes, motioning for you to finish your story. “Yes. I only have this year left, and I’ll be done with my studies. I’m assuming you did the same?”

Seokjin shook his head, fiddling with a piece of meat on his plate with the silverware. “I could only stick it out for four years.”

“Because you were certain of your future as CEO.”

His head dipped in agreement. Must be nice to not have to question your own future.

“Until recently.”

“Well,” you smiled, picking up your flute glass in a mock toast. “You’re welcome. I’m here to whip you up in shape and help you secure the bag.”

“I’ll be forever indebted to you,” he raised his own glass before sipping, eyes not leaving yours.

“That’s not necessary. That’s why you’re returning my hotel to me, right? We’ll be even. Fair and square.”

He smirked but as soon as he saw your plate, his mouth formed into a straight line.

“Chateau’s cuisine not up to your standard?”

“It’s not that at all.” You stabbed your fork and brought the food to your mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing with difficulty. “Slightly traumatized by last night’s dinner, still.”

“With Yoongi?”

Your friend’s name rolling off Seokjin’s tongue was something you hadn’t expected, so you choke on your food slightly. You reached for the champagne, downing the whole glass. Seokjin reached for the bottle, giving you a refill.

“No,” you gave him a curious gaze. “I don’t even remember the guy’s name.”

He nodded mutely, but his aura had shifted once more from laid-back Seokjin to business Seokjin. You were sure you’re going to leave this restaurant with a whiplash.

“So…” you began, unable to bask in the uncomfortable silence any longer. “How did you get the epiphany?”

“What epiphany?”

“This whole I’ll-fake-being-in-love-so-I-can-convince-my-father-to-retire-and-hand-me-his-position charade.”

Seokjin’s expression was stoic as he answered. “It was Taehyung who suggested it.”

You sifted through your memory in an attempt to put a face to the name. When you didn’t say anything, Seokjin filled the gap for you.

“My youngest brother.”

Right. Three strapping sons of the Kim family.

You were ready to bring up more small talk to prevent the atmosphere from spiralling. But it was as if Seokjin remembered the whole purpose of the two of you being here and dove right to business.

“The engagement is going to be announced next week on a Friday, in case your parents haven’t told you.”

You nodded despite being unaware.

“The wedding is on Saturday — exactly three weeks from now. You don’t have to worry about the planning; I believe my side of the family is doing all of that. I convinced them to make it a small event, much to my mother’s chagrin.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t elaborate further.

“It’ll be happening at my estate instead of Kim Hotel’s wedding hall. I thought the change of scenery would make it more intimate and believable, especially if it’s happening in my house.”

“Wait, back up — your estate?” you gave him an incredulous look.

“Why is that so shocking?”

“I thought you lived atop that lonely tower of yours, Rapunzel. I didn’t know you have a castle.”

Seokjin’s mouth curled up in the slightest, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“It was something I bought for myself after being COO.”

You felt like there should be a but that followed, but it never arrived.

“I’ll mail you the prenuptial agreement and anything else that requires your signature. It’s nothing we haven’t talked about before, but I’d like you to read it thoroughly in case I missed something.”

“No.”

Seokjin’s head snapped up in confusion. The momentary show of emotion was a welcomed event.

“I’ll visit you in that giant building of yours and sign whatever you need me to. We’re supposed to be in love, so it would look better if I’m there because I just can’t resist seeing you.” You said the last words sardonically, not one hint of truth within them.

“Good catch, fiancée.”

The lightness in his tone made your heart leap, and you cursed yourself for being so weak. But the feeling doesn’t last, so you told yourself it’s just something new to get used to. Kim Seokjin wasn’t going to be a permanent fixture in your life, so you’ll have to find a way to keep him at arms-length but the same time, somehow stay unaffected by his hot-or-cold nature.

As the night wore on, and the vibrant atmosphere you initially had with Seokjin faded, completely flatlining by the end of dinner. Prior to getting on his red Porsche, he’d kissed your forehead while you stood stiff as cardboard. You asked him to drop you off at your hotel instead of your apartment and he did without much question.

“Night, Rapunzel. Have fun in your tower.”

Seokjin shook his head, lush lips forming a small grin. Maybe being fake-real-married to him wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Park’s friendly face greeted you as soon as you entered, and one look at the front desk told you Joohyun had gone home for the night.

“Yoongi?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t see him come through today.”

“Oh,” you slouched defeatedly. Yoongi usually had weekend shifts, but this is probably a rare night when he’s off. You’d just have to fill him in through texts, then. “Thanks, Mr. Park. Have a good evening.”

“You too, Ms. Hwang.”

You made a quick beeline for Grigio, wanting to get coffee before you head up to your office. Jungkook’s familiar face behind the bar was a welcomed sight.

“I’m glad you’re here, at least,” you groaned, slipping into your usual spot. It was a little bit more hectic than the previous night, as Jungkook was evidently joined by another bartender you don’t recognize.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hwang, I won’t be able to cook your cure-all soup for you,” Jungkook teased, pouring the contents of the cocktail shaker into a martini glass.

“I don’t need that tonight, thank god,” you propped both your elbows on the table and rested your chin on your palms. “I do need the best coffee you can possibly make for me tonight. I’ve got lots of work waiting for me upstairs.”

“You’re not staying?”

“Nah, I don’t want to bother you. It seems busy here tonight, which I’m glad, of course.”

He looked like he wanted to say something more but instead, he bit his lip and nodded. While he busied himself with preparing your coffee, your mind lingered to the night’s event. Sure, you hadn’t stayed long for a casual chat, but you did get a lot accomplished. The two of you coordinated on which days you were both free and planned a few more dates.

You can do this, Y/N. Just tough it out through the wedding and a few months of pretending. Then you’ll have everything you want.

Hope blossomed in your chest as determination coursed through your veins. You were never the type to back out of anything, so you were more than willing to leap over a few hurdles on the way to your end goal. As long as you kept your head clear of any other obstacles, winning the prize will be an easy feat.

NEXT ;

hope you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated ♡

#seokjin fic #seokjin scenario #jin scenarios #seokjin scenarios #bts scenarios #ceo!seokjin #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #seokjin smut #seokjin #writing

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nvzblgrrl · 4 years

Text

On the subject of old fics 1

Allegedly, A Gentleman’s Tale (published 1-6-2012) was my first fanfic ever (again, allegedly - will explain after a bit). It only exists now as a private copy at least one person has saved and a capture on the WayBackMachine (which thankfully covered the whole ten chapters of it), because I have a habit of... deleting stories that embarrass me after the fact. It’s something I’m trying to break myself of, mostly because there are a number of people who do enjoy my work even if most of what I see in it are the flaws and I would feel bad about taking away something they enjoyed.

The ‘allegedly’ part comes in in that, based on my memories of my One Piece OCs and stories (along with more concrete evidence from my tumblr), I had a few OCs with snippets of story (with one who had at least a few chapters worth of story that I have memorized in broad strokes) attached that preceded that by at least one or two years, even though the description of ‘my first fic’ was in the synopsis of the fic as it was posted. Unfortunately, it’s hard to trace that information thanks to the ‘destroy all the evidence of me embarrassing myself’ habit (I completely deactivated my deviantart account on account of ‘cringe’, that’s how bad it got) and the passage of time making it unclear which mutuals might have been around at that time or if they even remember those things.

Now, I still have the computers that I typed up those stories on (they’re hanging out in my basement), but - they haven’t worked in quite a while. I’m not sure if they’re completely bricked or not, but I haven’t had anything to do with them for a while and I know that at least one of them was replaced because it refused to turn on anymore. Someday, I might get the chance to pull out their hard-drives and get a look at the data there, but that’s not a ‘now’ solution so...

Anyway - got a bit distracted there -, thanks to the power of the WayBackMachine, I was able to reread this specific fic in its entirety.

‘A Gentleman’s Tale’ was a little thing that was pretty much Brook backstory wrapped up in the framing device of Luffy wanting a story to help him get to sleep. I was 18, had maybe a year or two of creative writing experience/interest under my belt, and a whole lot of Soul King Stan energy to spend on my favorite character despite being at the tail end of my high school career.

Surprisingly, it was not entirely awful for an alleged ‘first attempt’. The formatting was a little eh, the pacing was borked, and a lot of characters were fairly flat (and a few leaned too hard on certain stereotypes while a lot had Western order names for some reason), but other than that, it was actually palatable. Ten chapters, about 8000 words, not a whole lot to write home about or find objectionable outside of the odd grammatical error and the fact that alcohol is mentioned in almost. every. single. chapter.

Seriously, I have no idea why that was a thing for me 2012-2013ish (it ended up in Witt and Witticism a little bit - more heavily on the rewrites that never took off back in the day but a little present in the original too). I was 18-19. I’d never had alcohol. I still haven’t had alcohol. I’d never really been around drinking at that age, socially or not, beyond like, enjoying brew fries and eating chicken tenders at a bar one time because my shit father wanted to have lunch there for some reason. I just guess that I woke up at the start of 2012 and thought Drink Mixing and Booze were interesting things.

The story wasn’t much to write home about, but the characters are the real area of interest here, so let’s cover them and a few of my plans for handling them in the rewrite.

Brook - Starts out his backstory being seasick, gets to have five decent minutes when he meets Yorki, and then is immediately shoved into the wall-to-wall shitshow that’s his life as the battle convoy captain and resident responsible adult, despite 70% of the convoy being at least ten to fifteen years older than him. Somehow that makes his interest in getting black out drunk almost every single night sound reasonable. Seriously, that’s what he was doing in that story, according to what happened almost every other chapter of the fic (because pacing is for writers on their third or fourth story). That’s one reason why the timeline is being stretched out in the rewrite plans - so we don’t kill the main character through alcohol poisoning (though with the kind of stress he was under in that original cut, I can’t blame him for trying - he got saddled with three weird + constantly fighting teenagers and a dying military organization, snubbed by the king, publicly embarrassed in front of 90% of the kingdom’s nobility, and so on in the course of two to three days max). Honestly, in retrospect, I’m not sure how well this plays with the framing device of Brook relating his backstory 62 years later, because he should have lost so many brain cells to this nonsense.

Yorki - Starts his introduction by saying ‘hey, my name’s Yorki, i’m close, bi, and willing to take you on a whirlwind adventure literally two seconds after meeting you’ which Brook immediately responds to as the best thing that’s happened to him in the last (and probably next) month. Probably the only person in Brook’s life as of the fic not stressing him out or enabling his self-destructive coping habits, though that doesn’t stop him from being one of the better things Brook woke up to after one of his blackout drinking nights. Also got an incredibly shitty nickname thanks to me not knowing how that sort of thing works from his mom. In the rewrite, he’s from Ohio (because I and my Middle-Ground lingering Self-Insert are from Michigan and the opportunity for a struggle between ‘hey we’ve both being isekai’d into this weird place and have similar backgrounds/music tastes so we’re going to hang together based on that’ and ‘200 year old inter-state hatred turned into over the top sports rivalry and disliking the other state on principle’ was too good to pass up).

Luchere Gregg (Gregg being her surname) - junior member of the battle convoy. Incredibly thorny and violent personality, with very little respect for authority (outside of her father, probably) and a generally superior attitude towards literally everyone except her father, especially when she perceived someone as being weak and ‘uppity’ at the same time - Maysure was the main target of this (as was intended at the time of the writing), but considering that Luchere was taking a similar tone with Brook (which was probably intended to be for different reasons, but honestly reads very similarly almost ten years on, given that Brook’s everything is very much not in line with her ideal anything) but not Hana (who was ‘weak’ but definitely not trying to mess with Luchere’s preferred social order), I think I can get more development out of her in that dimension. Her everything was probably was cool and badass back when I was 18, but now she just strikes me as petulant and unpleasant brat.

Minalee Hana - Generic smart guy of the junior team, complete with ‘shy’ personality and ‘harmless cute’ look... which, in retrospect, makes it really confusing why she’d join a military force in the first place and just raises suspicions on the fact that she did. Honestly she could be a Government plant and I wouldn’t be surprised. Another ‘problem’ with Hana is that she was based on someone I was friends with at the time I wrote the fic, which kinda ended up helping me dislike her a lot on more recent rereads, just because of the nature of that real world ‘friendship’ and the way it blew up in the end (with a whole lot of ugly reveals along the way that went back to pretty much when I first met that person).

Maysure Semenov Tara Su-all Evony Taebory Celeste - was originally a parody of the Mary Sue archetype, as you may have guessed from the name. Flashy, overeager, desperate for acknowledgement, and not quite managing to act in ways appropriate to her age (15, directly stated in text), either being too cutesy with her speech pattern and body language or dressing in ways that would be suited for a very different profession than soldier. I ended up liking her the most out of the junior trio out on my most recent rereads, just because she’s the only member of the group that’s actually making an effort at anything (well, beyond Luchere being hostile + trying to make Brook leave), doesn’t go out of her way to be hostile or destructive, and isn’t vaguely there in a way that makes me suspicious. Apparently was the only one of the junior trio ever stated to have weapons training (with Luchere being an unarmed fighter and Hana... just being there) and was apparently dedicated enough to it to have the schedule for the different training drills memorized.

Captain Gregg - the former captain of the battle convoy. He was never seen, only ever referenced in the fic. Based on the content, he was pretty much Luchere 1.0 - crass, unpleasant, violent, and without a lot of tolerance for those that couldn’t deal with or keep up with the unfortunate matter of his everything. The notes on rewrite so far have him becoming a lot more pleasant and lot less generally awful person, though still a bit of a roughneck and unpleasant to be around if you aren’t cut from the same cloth or a similar weave. Was not inspired by Captain Clegg until I started imbibing pop culture in preparation for the various parts of the project.

Jeevenine - quartermaster of the battle convoy, bartender, and carrier of heavy butler vibes, which feels like it might have been intentional. Said to be a master of ‘improvisation combat’ but honestly seems to be the person most likely to have taught Brook his style of fencing (based on his speed and precision being noted as something Brook had difficulty keeping up with in text) and his gentlemanly ways, considering every other character I wrote into the convoy is some flavor of hot mess and either a bruiser or a gunman. Still loses points for enabling Brook’s blackout drinking habits and being passive-aggressive instead of properly helpful.

Jack Rackum and John Delacroix - sniper-spotter pair, as indicated by their nicknames of ‘Windward’ and ‘Leeward’ respectively. Highly implied to be in a long-standing romantic relationship with each other or at least in a long-term holding pattern of pining. Delacroix’s tendency to sleep in the nude is used as half of a ‘my eyes’ joke that Brook is the victim of (the other half is Maysure’s chosen nightclothes being both stereotypical of a ‘Mary Sue’ and vastly age inappropriate, which is a running gag with her). Rackum gets the most description out of the set, with his brown leather hat and green-grey hair being mentioned, along with his taste for fruity cocktails (he might also be an alcoholic, which isn’t really all that remarkable in this fic).

Kurotora Ren - Big Guy McHugeBeef. Also the guy responsible for keeping the battle convoy awash in homebrew booze. Almost kills Brook by accident during his introduction by clapping him on the back at the exact wrong moment. Doesn’t have a lot more detail than that, mostly because he slides into the background after that brief focus moment, but I like him for being genuinely sorry about the near-death thing on top of being friendly for real and not being duplicitous about his wants + thoughts.

Zest - noble. Stupid. Probably the closest thing that Brook has to a friend in his actual age range at the start of the story, which is really fucking sad considering Zest’s everything and the fact that Brook doesn’t enjoy his company at all. Somehow when I was 18, the idea of a guy who spent most of his time in some state of wasted and trying to get his ‘friend’ (who doesn’t even like him that much but seems to tolerate him more than literally everyone else Zest ever interacted with who wasn’t being paid) into a similar condition because of unrequited love or something was tragi-cute-slash-funny instead of pathetic and faintly disturbing (though I guess I might end up writing him as tragic again anyway just because it probably takes Some Shit to make a person like that). Spent 90% of his screen time in the old story making Brook’s life inconvenient and the remaining 10% fully aware that his own life is going nowhere. His personality is oddly similar to Maysure’s, which is... interesting, implications-wise. Holy Shit, is this guy going to be a trip to work with as an adult.

#the big fat one piece fic project #talking about old fic #a gentleman's tale #my writing #if you have any questions about this or other fic i've done feel free to fire away

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raximoweek · 6 years

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An insight into Cristina’s life by C. Bonadincel

You wake up to 45 text messages from your son Máximo waiting to be answered on your phone. Check your facebook/twitter/Instagram and you have 450 likes on the selfie you took of yourself with a caption making fun of our current President. You want more attention though, so you take a shower, put on a shirt that whoops! accidentally lets the side of your bra show, put on 4 whole pencil’s worth of eyeliner to go from a 9.5/10 to a 10/10, and snap a quick selfie of yourself that you quickly upload to your social media accounts with some sarcastic emojis. Maybe this one will get you 4500 likes.

Your driver takes you to the Senate in a car that cost 365,283 whole Argentinian pesos. Before you get out you make a quick video complaining about all the injustices done to you by Federal Justice Claudio Bonadio : ( Got to keep the public talking about you! you laugh to yourself. As you walk into the Congress building, you pass several Federal Justices on the street. They all stare at you as you pass. Most of them are actually concerned with bringing justice to the nation of Argentina and punishing its most heinous white-collar criminals. Gross! You ignore them. These losers spend their whole adult life jerking off to persecuting their political opponents, and they still only earn one million pesos per year—legally.

You stop to get your usual morning diet fruit salad on the way. Have to maintain all 140 pounds of you! The good-looking boy serves you and tries chatting you up again, but he’s too good looking, nothing like your crude, hulking son Máximo or the rotting corpse of your dead husband who it’s time to get over. You know he’s going to ask you out one day, but you’ll end up rejecting him because you only fuck people with the last name of Kirchner. You don’t mind the attention though.

Several men stare at your cleavage and the bruises on your leg that conveniently show through your tights as you resume your walk. It’s so hard to be such a radiant goddess. You enter your 106,000 pesos per year Senate job which you had to get by manipulating the voters due to being a mentally ill degenerate with no competence or leadership skills who’s thirsty for power. You notice many of your male political opponents are there. The Senate is sexist. Typical. You greet all of your coworkers: Máximo’s handsome young friend from La Cámpora, Axel Kicillof your young, brilliant Chad former minister of economy, Máximo’s other handsome young friend from La Cámpora, Hot Blonde Female Senator who you’re probably fucking, and nemesis from the opposing party Vice President Gabriela Michetti (in a wheelchair, so she can’t even sit on the special throne!) Of course the “less corrupt” political party is currently in office. They get all the good jobs now! But that would change. We’re fighting to get me—I mean, us--back into power! You remember how Kim Il-Sung of North Korea is still considered the leader of the nation even after his death. Good on him, you think to yourself.

You ask the Vice President to shut up and let you speak and she immediately does so. You cut a grape from your fruit salad in half because grapes have such a high caloric content and demand that a bottle of low-sodium mineral water be brought to your desk. Máximo’s young Chad friends have to come over to flirt with you, so you make the entire Senate wait for you to begin your egocentric ramblings. Then you take the floor and talk for 45 minutes about how you’re being persecuted for your beliefs and then answer another 45 texts from Máximo. Then leader of the majority Miguel Pichetto asks to speak. He can be so conceited sometimes thinking anyone cares what he has to say! But at least this gives you time to go to the bathroom. You stand up and make sure to announce how unfair it is that the bathroom is so far away while you pretend to be leaving the room quietly and respectfully. Before you know it, it’s lunchtime and you hide in your office and stuff your face with your favorite fried pig intestines so no one sees you eating anything other than fruit salad and grilled chicken.

Around 2pm another senator from your party comes and jokingly asks if you’re doing any work. You laugh and tell him you don’t need to work to make money and smile sexily at him (because you’re talking about all your laundered money). You spend the rest of your time in the Senate ranting on Facebook about how Federal Justice Claudio Bonadio has accused you of colluding with Iran. What an ugly, fat son of a bitch he is! Your post from this morning now has 450,000 likes. You have several text messages from Máximo letting you know he wants to get dinner tonight. So far, he’s asked for dinner 3 times and for pre-dinner drinks 4 times. You check Página|12, the one news site in the country that understands how oppressed you and other Kirchnerite policians are (but especially you). You see an article about how Federal Justice Claudio Bonadio should be removed from the Iran case because he holds a grudge against you and is very corrupt besides. You share the article and say how hard it is for you that this competent, experienced judge is persecuting you and your family. You get 45 likes and 45 comments agreeing with you and saying that this innocent and ruggedly handsome enforcer of the law of the land should go to hell.

After work you head back to your apartment and do 30 minutes of running on the treadmill with smoke pouring out of your ears while watching the news anchors on TV talk about your criminal behavior. You notice your personal trainer Luciana staring at you from the weights section. She’s pretty hot, but topping you is a privilege that she has to repeatedly earn, so you put your headphones in to listen to the Gladiator soundtrack. You wouldn’t dare take a selfie when you’re done with the treadmill, because you don’t want the public seeing what you look like with most of your eye makeup sweated off. You head off to the water cooler to drink another glass of low-sodium mineral water. Luciana tries to make conversation with you. She’s hot and attractively younger than you, but her last name isn’t Kirchner, so you politely make it clear that you’re not interested (today).

You already have several more likes on your reposted article about angel of justice Bonadio and more comments about how heartless he is to persecute the best president the country has ever had. Máximo has now asked you to go out for dinner with him 6 times. You text him 4 times and organize the night and make sure to use lots of heart emojis. You get home and say hi to your poodle Lolita and ignore your daughter Florencia. She’s 27 and still a vegan. She’s always cared about the environment, stood up for the rights of dairy cows and shit like that. Now her baby daddy dumped her because of how obsessed with soy milk and social justice she is. Maybe if she showed some ambition like you did. You got into politics relatively early on because the electorate noticed how charming, sexy, and honest you are. She was always Dad’s favorite though, and never appreciated you enough before he died. She could be such a selfish bitch sometimes.

You call your 89 year-old mom and tell her that you want to buy a new Birkin bag but don’t want to use any of the funds you’ve thoughtfully embezzled from public works projects. She gives you 6,088,350 pesos that she earned from scamming the Post Office. You say thank you, even though you know you don’t really need it because you recently had a net worth of 80 million USD. You deserve it for simply being Cristina Kirchner.

You decide it’s time to meet up with Máximo. You need protection out on the street though in case the people who have seen through your grating charisma and realize what a sexy piece of shit you really are decide to throw eggs at you again. You text some of Máximo’s buff, Chad friends from La Cámpora to come walk with you. You take fifty selfies and a dozen videos for your YouTube channel while you’re walking down the street. Some men who also happen to work as federal judges and prosecutors call out to you about how immoral you are, and you and your Chad posse laugh hilariously. All these guys aren’t getting laid, right? Like, why do they even bother?

As soon as you get to the restaurant Máximo comes to greet you and plies you with expensive wine. You don’t really plan on staying though because you want to have a private night with your good for nothing Chad son who’s never had a job interview in his life. You make sure to keep his handsome male friends from La Cámpora there so they can protect Máximo’s blubbery body and lack of a law degree too.

After 4 men come to talk to you and tell you they definitely don’t believe that you allegedly ordered the murder of a prosecutor who was about to accuse you of collusion with Iran, which gets them kisses on the cheek from you, you abandon the restaurant and head off down the street with Máximo. People greet him with respect even though he has no degrees from institutions of higher learning and owns 45 SUVs purchased with stolen money. Your Chad bodyguards get in between you and Máximo and the innocent Argentinian citizens who you proclaim to love so much who are demanding you answer for your disgraceful crimes and complete lack of disrespect for our justice system, especially learnèd and powerful Federal Justice Claudio Bonadio. Máximo takes a video of you two walking down the street while ignoring the demands of your countrymen. You can’t stop laughing at how empowered it makes you feel to ignore this persecution. This is great!

At home you and Máximo sit close together on your expensive imported couch and talk because literally no one matters to you other than the degenerates in your family. Máximo tells you how he’s broken up with his latest girlfriend, just another one in a series of girls who look like a broke-ass version of you. You tell him how you approve of this because she was a distraction—Kirchners need to stick together. That’s why you refuse to testify in your court appearance and won’t meet Federal Justice Claudio Bonadio’s eyes when he greets you. Some guys can be so pathetic. Your lawyer Gregorio is texting you. He is a pretty hot Chad and you’ve considered ****ing him to see if that will get you free legal representation and perhaps inspire him to bribe the jury (with his own money, not yours). Your degenerate son Máximo gets jealous so you stop replying. The only thing you love more than defrauding and deceiving an entire country while dressing like an oversexed mom is your son who always seems to get girlfriends even though he has accomplished nothing in life (certainly nothing like going to law school and becoming a Federal Justice, anyway). You make plans to have Máximo spend the night. You ask him which of your apartment’s 5 bedrooms he’d like to sleep in and he says he wants to sleep in yours. Gregorio is still texting you but you have long since stopped replying. Even your Chad lawyer is kind of acting like a loser right now. You tell Máximo that of course he can sleep in your bed with you because he’s such a big strong boy who spends Mommy’s laundered money so well. He is a literally perfect Kirchner. You remember Florencia telling you that it’s weird that Máximo still likes to sleep in your bed at age 40, yet she’s the one sleeping alone tonight. You laugh to yourself. She must be doing something wrong. She’s obviously not worthy of the kind of love you and Máximo share.

After a night as deviant as you are, you wake up to Luciana asking if you’ll have hot girl-on-girl sex with her today, your mom sending you her fraudulent money for your new Birkin bag, and 450 comments on a leaked photo someone took of you on the treadmill saying you look good even with your 45 pounds of mascara smeared all over your face. It’s only 9am. Máximo brings you cake in bed and you post another article trashing the blameless silver fox Federal Justice Claudio Bonadio on all your social media profiles. Today is going to be a good day!

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celestialorbs · 6 years

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the lovely reem aka @stereotypedebunker tagged me to answer some great questions that she wrote herself, so here goes.

(1) Who are your five favorite fictional characters?

maruko from chibi maruko-chan (i knew it as maroko in its arabic dubbed version), which is a cartoon that i loved when i was little. chihiro from spirited away. hermione from harry potter, cosima from orphan black, and kiki from kiki’s delivery service.

(2) What is the first part of your routine in the morning?

checking my email and scrolling through twitter and snapchat to wake myself up.

(3) What came first, the chicken or the egg?

lmao i did not notice that you put in this question until now. i say it’s the chicken because a baby chick could not, or at least should not, start off its life without a mommy? but god knows.

(4) Do you like riddles/puzzles (and what sorts)?

it’s been a while since i have done any riddles or puzzles, but i do remember being fond of them. the closest thing to puzzles that i like now is a game app called flow, which is a connect the dots without intersecting the lines kind of thing.

(5) What is your favorite non-physical thing about yourself?

i like that i can keep things to myself. i know it can turn into a negative thing where i bottle up things that should be addressed, and i’m not gonna lie it does happen sometimes. however, more often than not i have benefited from it. you can never take back the things that you tell people, i have learned that the hard way. and watching my tongue with people has made introspection a more frequent habit of mine, which i like.

(6) What do you find appealing (non-sexually) in other people?

kindness, empathy, an eagerness to learn, non-judgment, humility, open-mindedness, positivity, a sense of responsibility.

(7) Describe your sense of humor/what you find funny

i find a lot of things funny. i don’t know if it’s a side effect of being on this website for too long but i now find that the more abstract or meaningless a meme gets the funnier it becomes to me. i also find a lot of things (that are meant to be funny) not funny. like things where people look like they might’ve gotten really hurt falling down or smashing into something, and it’s not because i’m morally against laughing at that sort of thing necessarily, but it’s more because i look away before i feel like laughing because i get overwhelmed by secondhand embarrassment/pain. sometime it is funny tho not gonna lie, lol.

(8) How do you like your eggs (if you like eggs)?

i like them fried, scrambled, all sorts of ways really. eggs are güd.

(9) Do you consider yourself religious? (Why/not)

with the notion that religiosity is subjective in mind, i don’t think that i am religious. i do the bare minimum in my opinion, may Allah forgive me and guide me to better myself. why? I think i can always be better about praying on time, praying with more focus and khoshoo’, reading the qura’an more often, etc.

(10) Describe your favorite piece of jewelry (if you wear jewelry)

the ring of power that i bought for myself like a true nerd. it is a golden (allegedly gold plated) ring with inscriptions in black speech i believe? It’s been awhile. it is supposed to grant me the power of invisibility as advertised by j. r. r. tolkien himself. unfortunately it does not, but i love it all the same.

my questions:

what have you learned about yourself, or about life in general in 2017

what is something that you have discovered recently that you like (it can be a book, a movie, an artist, anything that you choose really)?

what is one thing that you’re looking forward to at the moment?

that’s it! to answer my question (if they feel like it) i tag @thecosmicvagabond @oxe-ix-a-milliox @cesarepa @disahara @yungmangojuice @eebro @apollosbuttcheeks @madibariddim @ephemerallegretto

#i haven't done tags in awhile wow #p

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foodreceipe · 5 years

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How Watermelon's Reputation Got Tangled In Racism

Imagery has the power to turn a seemingly innocent depiction of fruit into the stereotyping of an entire group of people.

By Nneka M. Okona - 08/02/2019

The cover of the Aug. 9, 1937 issue of Life Magazine is all about watermelons. On it, several watermelons are wedged into various spots in the back of a pickup truck, packed in along for the ride.

A bald, middle-aged Black man with broad shoulders sits on the back of that truck, shirtless and outfitted in worn pants held up with suspenders. His name is Roy E. Parrish, hailing from Adel, Georgia, and as he sits on the back of the truck, he peers out into sprawling acres of farmland on either side of a winding dirt road.

It appears on the surface to be a glorious tribute to his hard work and harvesting, but it shrouds a much darker and destructive racist stereotype that has persisted even today—one linking African Americans to a cherished pastime of munching on watermelons during the warmer summer months.

But how did it start? How did this green-and-white striped rind and its juicy, red flesh become a racist moniker?

The images disseminated in the Life story, and others like it, played a pivotal role in turning a bigoted assumption into a lasting racist stereotype in the minds of white Southerners ― and Northerners too.

A caption in the 1937 Life cover 1937 story reads: “Nothing makes a Negro’s mouth water like a luscious, fresh-picked melon. Any colored ‘mammay’ can hold a huge slice in one hand while holding her offspring in the other.”

Dr. Psyche Williams-Forson, associate professor and chair of African American studies at the University of Maryland, researches food shaming and policing; she found that stereotypical imagery involving food and Black people began in the early 1900s.

“When I was researching [fried] chicken, I found as many images about watermelon,” she said. “In fact, one of my earliest images I have is of an African American man with a watermelon in each arm and a chicken on the ground, or a pullet as they called it. He was allegedly making the decision about [whether to] put the watermelons down and pick up the pullet. Or does he leave the pullet and take the watermelons?”

One of the first documented of these images appeared in Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper in 1869. The cartoon, in black and white, shows five little Black boys sitting and standing in a doorway, hungrily devouring watermelon. One of these boys is so consumed with the watermelon, his face is obscured from view. Another has his head leaning outward as he tips what looks like an empty watermelon rind toward his head to catch the lingering bit of juiciness.

The sheet music for an 1881 song called "Dat Borrowed Watermelon" depicts the "happy darkie concept of a person who just loves watermelon," as Williams-Forson explains it.

In the years and decades following it, newspapers and magazines perpetuated these images, printing them in photo spreads, as stand-alone cartoons and in ad spaces. Beyond media, it started to appear on cookware as salt and pepper shakers, dish rags and paperweights. And each of these depictions was the same: Black people eating this seeded fruit with glee.

“You get this happy darkie concept of a person who just loves watermelon,” Williams-Forson said. “They’re grown in the South, but people in the South and beyond eat them. The difference becomes when Black people are denigrated vis-a-vis these foods. [Then there becomes] another association.”

Debra Freeman, writer and managing editor of Southern Grit Magazine, encountered some of these ads and photos through her mother and was struck with the imaging and the larger implications for them.

“My mom collects Black memorabilia and she was very much into watermelons for a period of time,” she said. “Just looking at the ads with little Black children and the exaggerated mouths with the watermelons was absolutely stunning to see. It was used all over and a calculated decision to stop Black people from empowering themselves.”

An image from 1895 depicts two black children eating wedges of watermelon.

At its core, watermelon represented a pathway to economic freedom for formerly enslaved Africans. While enslaved, they were forced to farm watermelons. But once they were free citizens, watermelons provided a way to reclaim their lives and make money. They grew and harvested them, becoming vendors and selling them on street corners.

And of course, that growing business was seen as a threat to white residents in cities across the South during the Jim Crow era. Smithsonian points out that “many Southern whites reacted to this self-sufficiency by turning the fruit into a symbol of poverty. Watermelon came to symbolize a feast for the ‘unclean, lazy and child-like.’ To shame black watermelon merchants, popular ads and ephemera, including postcards pictured African Americans stealing, fighting over, or sitting in streets eating watermelon.”

Freeman points out how illogical and nonsensical these images were to her. Most of these images, for instance, show massive watermelons cut lengthwise, as if to exaggerate the features of African Americans, drawn in the style of the all-too-familiar Black Sambo caricature. But those who eat watermelon often know that eating it in small triangles is typically the way it is done: To eat it the way it is drawn in these pervasive images would be wasteful and incredibly messy.

Cultural symbols are more powerful than they seem. It’s why this imaging has endured, decades after the Jim Crow era of racism crumbled and built itself up into something not new, but different.

It’s why when college cafeterias serve fried chicken and watermelon and someone as famous as Madonna posts a photo of her adopted African daughters eating watermelon, it can be damaging.

The Life Magazine cover is a prime example of how something can appear to be uplifting and affirming, complimentary and positive, but instead contributes to the dehumanization of an entire group of people. Only when digging into the history, learning about these symbols and unpacking them can they begin to lose their power.

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/watermelon-racism_l_5d2dfea4e4b0a873f6428b9c

#Watermelon #Racism

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thytruthwill · 4 years

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It Came Out of Me

My troubles began in the early morning of a Summer night in August. An ordinary day to say the least from the start, until I endured a series of wicked spells that forced mucus from my body. What felt familiar to a head cold, I took a couple Tylenol and drank some extra fluids with lemon. I didn’t show any other visible symptoms. That evening, a foul taste filled my mouth at dinner, bitter and tangy. Disturbed, my appetite ceased and I went to bed early. Around three in the morning, a sudden sharp ache ran through my stomach and awoken me. Before I could grab my stomach, the ache subsided. Inside my mouth was pasty and dry. I grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen. Two glasses of water, a quick empty of my bladder and then it was back to bed.

It was in the bathroom, where I was plagued by another spell that exhausted me for minutes. This was unlike any of the others I experienced that day. Thrusting the muscles in my esophagus would not manifest what was traveling up my chest. It was dense, and creeping its way up into the back of my throat. I figured the old-fashioned way would help; forced my finger down my wind pipe and gagged to force the strange object nesting in the back of my throat. Its great size clogged my airway as it entered the top of my throat. In a fight to avoid choking, I coughed aggressively and oozed out a black gelatin substance the size of a small balloon, filling the entire space in my mouth. Its mawkish taste and lumpy contents encased in the ball sickened me as I spit it out into the toilet, puking up the water I drank minutes prior. The water clogged my throat like glue. Breathing was a sacrifice to be made as I desperately exercised myself to rid my body of this foreign substance.

This was not mucus and was coming to a realization this ordeal was turning into something far more sinister than what I was already experiencing. The strange specimen shared the same consistency as mucus but I nearly fainted at the sight of the beady black eyes, webbed feet, shiny skin and wide mouths swimming inside the membrane. I retreated from the bathroom, panic spiking my nerves. My mother awoke from her slumber at the sound of her son bawling hysterically. Overwhelmed, I failed to form logical sentences and relied on gestures to get her to follow me back to the bathroom like a dog alarming its owner. When she entered the bathroom, she found me on the floor sitting against the tub. I pointed at the toilet. When she peeked into the bowl the expression on her face settled for a while. Blank. Fixated. I mustered up the courage to inform her that I produced the contents in the toilet. Uncertain of how to react, stunned by my confession, she stepped out of the bathroom. Gaining control of my sanity felt impossible. What was happening to me? I pressed two fingers against my neck, my pulse was thumping like a kick drum. Moments later, my mother entered the bathroom wearing a glove on one of her hands. She reached into the toilet and picked up the membrane with the hand equipped with the glove.

As a science professor, she was accustomed to occurrences that rendered no explanation. I had seen my mother angry, sad, joyful, but I had no answer for what she was expressing. For all I knew, she felt just as nauseated as I did. My mother turned to me with a gaunt expression and dropped the membrane in the toilet. She held the wall as she stepped out of the bathroom. I rubbed my stomach as a wave of nausea spiraled through me. With a desperate attempt, I shot up from the floor and put my head over the toilet. My gag reflex forced a thick, black gelatin substance to seep out of my throat. My mother ran back into the bathroom on the phone with my father. My muscles contracted as the black substance unforgivingly took its time to come out.

My mother held my hand while I fought to breathe. Eventually the substance cleared and I collapsed back onto the floor, weary. Every subtle movement triggered a surge of spasms that gripped my abdomen. I could hear my father over the phone trying to understand what was taking place. My mother checked my body temperature. It was slowly rising. Too exhausted to roll over, my mother anchored her arms under my armpits and helped me to sit back up against the tub. She affirmed that my father was on the way to take me to the hospital. In the meantime, she grabbed a wet cloth and pressed it against my head and chest to keep me cool.

Not long after, I heard my father come through the front door of the house and made his way into the bathroom to witness a concerning sight. A son sweating profusely and in agony. When my father looked into the toilet, a gasp escaped him. Just before his arrival, the membrane had erupted. An army of tiny black frogs were floating in the water atop each other. The largest in the army sat still as a statue, flexing his vocal sac. In haste, my father helped me up to my feet and carried me out to the car. The agony in my stomach hindered me from walking. My mother helped me to get my shoes on my feet in the backseat while my father peeled out of the driveway. There was an urgency that I’d never seen my dad drive with. The passing cars, lights and buildings faded into a blur as I floated in and out of consciousness. I uttered, “I went to Rehmi’s house for dinner the other night.” My mother’s eyes widened, disdain filled my father’s face. I knew the sudden anguish bloomed at the thought of Rehmi’s father.

Rehmi was one of my closest friends but his father had an obsession with exotic dining, always looking for unusual delicacies. It was uncommon for their household to eat chicken, beef, rice, pork on a more frequent basis, instead, they ate things like crickets, duck bladder, lamb brains, and beaver liver as Rehmi shared with me. I was always invited over for dinner but my parents were serious about where I ate, especially Rehmi’s house. My mother constantly reminded me, “You can’t eat at everybody’s house,” and would proceed to lecture me on the cleanliness of people’s houses and different ways people prepared food. It made sense to an extent but I knew she was more concerned about the food at Rehmi’s than anywhere else.

A few days ago, Rehmi invited me over to his house for dinner after we bowled a few games at AMF Bowling. He convinced me that his father was cooking sausages made from goose. I figured that was as normal as it was going to get since the last invitation was for dragonfly soup. Allegedly his father was over the roof of how delicious it tasted after spending days catching them in their backyard. As usual, I tried to decline the offer but I was running out of excuses and told him that I was still full from eating fries at the bowling alley, which was the furthest thing from the truth. Rather than be honest, I offended him and he told me forget about it. In the moment, I felt like a terrible friend so I quickly changed my mind and told him I would join his family for a meal.

When I walked in the house, the first room was the dining room. Four plates were set around a table. The spread consisted of bread rolls in a pan, grilled goose sausages and a dish covered by a metal lid sitting at the end of the table. Rehmi’s father was so thrilled at my attendance that he insisted I try a surprise he had waiting for me before we began the main course. Already aware of his obsession, I felt like I’d made a mistake accepting the invitation but I kept an open mind, maybe a little too open because I wasn’t ready for what Rehmi’s father had in store for me.

Rehmi’s father stood up from his seat and picked up the small dish that was covered by the shiny metal lid and brought it over to me. I asked what was underneath and he responded with, “I don’t want to spoil the surprise, enjoy.” Reluctant, I removed the lid. A pungent stink filled my nostrils. The odor was absolutely horrible but what sat on the plate nearly tarnished my appetite. Two off-white, bulb-shaped membranes sat in the middle of the plate. I tried to keep my stomach strong but I was having a hard time. At the end of the table, Rehmi’s father gazed with a wicked smile, “Try it.” I turned to Rehmi, who looked even more like his father as he bared the same sinister grin. I picked up the indistinguishable delicacy. It nearly slipped out of my hand as I plopped it into my mouth.

With a cautious bite, the mystery meal exploded, filling my mouth with a slimy substance. The tough texture made it impossible to chew. Some things are so horrendous that that’s the only way you can describe them. My eyes swelled with tears as I exercised my jaws to break down the chewy delicacy. This ordeal was enough to make me want to leave but it was too late. Rehmi’s father leaned in, eager to get my opinion. I wanted to fix my mouth and say, You’re a sick individual. What’s wrong with you? But instead, I told him the truth. The real shock came when he revealed that I’d ingested frog ovaries. Rehmi’s father encouraged me to finish the other piece or it would bring bad luck. Ovaries? Goose sausage couldn’t eradicate the taste that coated my taste buds. It was rather odd that Rehmi’s father would go to such extremes to cleanse his family’s digestive system with frog ovaries.

Ironically the following morning, I had spells of abdominal cramps so intense that I could only find comfort laying in the fetal position. My body temperature fluctuated several times throughout the day. Later in the evening I eventually passed a stool that brought minor relief but little did I know my fate was sealed.

My father drove up to the emergency room drop off terminal and rushed inside to grab a wheelchair. My mother wheeled me inside asking for immediate assistance. A nurse escorted me to an empty room and began checking my vitals. My mother filled out the forms. My blood pressure was high with a fever and elevated heart rate that was gradually climbing. The nurse stepped out and ordered an I.V.

At the same time, a doctor entered the room and asked me about what I was experiencing. My explanation made him wonder as he instructed me to turn over onto my back. He pressed his fingers against my stomach and felt a bulge present underneath the surface. It was firm and shifted to the lower portion of my abdomen. I shrieked in pain, clutching his wrist, clinching my teeth. The doctor ordered the nurse to prepare an ultrasound to get a look what was creeping inside my abdomen. In the meantime, my parents bombarded the doctor with a series of questions, anxious to know what was troubling me. He assured them that him and his team of nurses were going to get to the bottom of the situation.

Within minutes, a nurse rolled in an ultrasound machine. She gently lifted my shirt, as to be cautious not to disrupt what was nesting inside me. The doctor stood close by monitoring the procedure. The nurse took a plastic tube of ultrasound gel and squeezed some out onto my stomach, pressing the transducer on top of it and spreading it around. A wave of spasms gripped my stomach once again, more aggressively this time. The bulge split in two, surging around violently. I pushed the nurse back instinctively trying to curl up and endure the pain. Hollering made no difference as the doctor and other nurses fought to keep me still. The nurse I pushed away proceeded with checking my stomach as an image displayed on the screen of the ultrasound machine.

Tiny little black pod shaped organisms swimming by the hundreds or thousands. As the nurse scrolled the transducer over my intestines, they made a grave discovery of larger tadpoles slithering around my guts, and back into my stomach cavity. A piercing agony erected through my chest that robbed me of my breathe. Right after, the bulge grew to the size of a basketball and forced its way up my diaphragm, creating a pressure so great that my ribs broke. Frantic from horror, the doctor ordered his team to prep an operating room and rushed me to the O.R.

Fluorescent white panels glared down on me as I was rushed down the hallway. My vision turned hazy as I caught glimpses of the faces staring at me. Soon as I entered the operating room, the nurses were quick and careful to move me onto the table. Shaking violently, the team fought to hold me down. The bulge in my chest traveled up my throat, clogging my esophagus. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I could no longer breathe. A thick black plasma seeped from every opening in my face. My eyes, mouth, nose, and ears flooded with the black slime. My jaws snapped as thick foot-long tadpoles punctured through my mouth erratically falling out onto the floor squirming around. Nurses screamed as they jumped back at what they were witnessing. Nurses from outside spectated at the gruesome episode taking place before their eyes. Tiny tadpoles escaped through my nose and eyes, sheeting my face in the plasma. A massive bullfrog crawled out of my mouth and hopped onto the floor. Several other species of frogs crawled out of any available opening. My face was stretched and deformed as an army of frogs inhabited the operating room. I lay limp on the gurney as the O.R. staff panicked and locked down the area to prevent the frogs from spreading.

Later my body was examined to discover several species of frog eggs in my system. The diener ruled my death by severe organ trauma and disruption. Looking from the outside in, there could have been a myriad of ways it all could have ended but I lost sight of my instincts which led to my unfortunate demise. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken watch what you eat so lightly.

#writing #storytelling #fiction #horror #mystery #scifi #create

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filosofablogger · 4 years

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‘Twas the Jolly Monday before Christmas, And all ‘round the ‘net, Every creature was stirring, And making me fret.

-Filosofa

Okay, folks, that’s the extent of my poetic talent. The part about every creature stirring is true … the kitties get restless when there are goings-on afoot, such as present wrapping, packages being carried in, and they have been in rare form tonight … only two fights so far, but Boo has been doing his best to turn the television over trying to get at the kitty he thinks is inside of it. Young Boo has recently developed a television addiction. I blame daughter Chris for this, as she plays kitty videos for him when she’s home. When she’s not home, he’s fine, but the minute she walks through the door in the evening, he jumps up on the table in front of the t.v. and waits for her to turn it on for him!

Since this is the last Jolly Monday before Christmas, naturally Jolly and I have done a bit of festive baking. (Jolly’s cookies came out a bit burnt, but he worked so hard on them that I hope you’ll eat one anyway, so as not to hurt his feelings) So, grab a treat and a cuppa, and let’s work on that Christmas spirit, shall we? Oh, and Hugh … there’s a special treat for you … you’ll know it when you see it! Cheers!

And for our young friend Benjamin, who is back for the first time in over a month …

Benjamin’s juice boxes — but he’ll share if you ask nicely!

I found some interesting, fun Christmas-related trivia I think you might enjoy …

Jingle Bells was written for Thanksgiving, not Christmas. The song was written in 1857 by James Lord Pierpont and published under the title One Horse Open Sleigh. It was supposed to be played in the composer’s Sunday school class during Thanksgiving as a way to commemorate the famed Medford sleigh races. Jingle Bells was also the first song to be broadcast from space. Nine days before Christmas in 1965, the two astronauts aboard Gemini 6 suddenly sent an odd report to Mission Control that they saw an “unidentified flying object” about to enter Earth’s atmosphere, traveling in the polar orbit from north to south. They interrupted the tense report with the sound of “Jingle Bells” with Wally Schirra playing a small harmonica and accompanied by Tom Stafford with a handful of small sleigh bells they had smuggled aboard for that very occasion.

Japanese people traditionally eat at KFC for Christmas dinner. Although the percentage of Christian people in Japan is close to zero, every Christmas, kids and grown-ups head to the closest KFC to enjoy some fried chicken – the closest food to turkey that you can get in Japan. It’s all thanks to a successful “Kentucky for Christmas!” marketing campaign in 1947. First aimed at foreigners, KFC offered a “Christmas dinner” that contained chicken and wine – a meal that remotely resembled the food expats and tourists had at home. After a huge success, Kentucky Fried Chicken started promoting this offer every year, until the fast food chain became strongly associated with the holiday season.

Iceland has 13 Santas and an old lady who kidnaps children. Christmas in Iceland is a colorful fusion of religion, fairy tales and folklore. Instead of one Santa, the kids are visited by 13 Yule Lads that either reward children for good behavior or punish them if they were naughty. The holiday period begins 13 days before Christmas and each day one of the 13 Yule Lads comes to houses and fills the shoes that kids leave under the Christmas tree either with sweets and small gifts or rotting potatoes, depending on how that particular child has behaved on the preceding day. The mother of Yule Lads, half-troll, half-beast, horrifying old woman Grýla, kidnaps naughty kids and boils them in her cauldron.

You might want to brew a cup o’ tea when decking your halls this year. The origin of Christmas trees goes all the way back to ancient Egyptians and Romans, who marked the winter solstice with evergreens as a reminder that spring would return soon. But it wasn’t until Prince Albert of Germany introduced the tree to his new wife, Queen Victoria of England, that the tradition really took off. A drawing of the couple in front of a Christmas tree appeared in Illustrated London News way back in 1848 and as we say today, the idea went viral.

According to Coca-Cola, Santa used to look a lot less jolly — even spooky. It wasn’t until the beverage company hired an illustrator named Haddon Sundblom in 1931 to create images of Santa for magazine advertisements that we got the warm and friendly Santa we know today. Now, kids wouldn’t fear interrupting Santa’s nightly work.

According to legend, we hang our stockings by the chimney with care thanks to a poor man who didn’t have the money for his three daughters’ dowries. Generous old St. Nick dropped a bag of gold down their chimney one night, where the girls had hung their stockings to dry by the fire. That’s where the gold ended up, and allegedly how the tradition began.

A few Christmas cartoons …

And of course Jolly Monday must have a cute animal video, and since it is the holiday season …

youtube

Friends, I would like to just take this opportunity to let you all know how much you mean to me … and Jolly. The very best thing about this blog has been the wonderful people I’ve met … I feel as if I’ve actually acquired a whole new family. A couple of times, in times of extreme angst, I have considered giving up this blog … but the thought never lasts for long, for I would miss you all entirely too much. Thank you all for being such great friends! Jolly and I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas. Love ‘n hugs from Filosofa and Jolly!

A Holly Jolly Monday! ‘Twas the Jolly Monday before Christmas, And all ‘round the ‘net, Every creature was stirring, And making me fret.

#Christmas stockings #Christmas tree #Christmas trivia #Iceland Christmas tradition #Japanese KFC Christmas #Jingle Bells #Santa Claus

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polandandback2019 · 5 years

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June 13

On our last day in Warsaw we went to the Museum of Jewish history. It traces the Thousand Years of Jewish history in the Polish region. Mythology says that a Jewish person was walking in the woods and a bird or butterfly is there and says go to polin. He set out for this mythical region and discovered Poland. The exhibition outlined the ups and downs and of the Jewish people and how they were treated throughout centuries. Suffice it to say they had many ups and downs and mostly were treated as second-class citizens except when the nobility needed them to manage their finances. It is a huge Museum home to four floors and probably covers an acre of area. There was a huge Memorial to the ghetto uprising and we had an interesting visit. We then walked back to the royal castle. It had been completely destroyed by Hitler during World War II. A lot of the paintings and other artifacts were lost. Some of them were hidden by the Polish people before the invasion, but the Nazis really tried to destroy connection of the castle from the people. It was almost too opulent to believe. As we were looking for a place to have dinner, a man handed a flyer to us about it restaurant near our car. We're headed that way anyway to have dinner at the restaurant we had eaten the night before, but we decided to try this one. The waitress was very friendly and helpful and we ended up having fried potato cakes with goulash and a mushroom sauce. With the exception of one restaurant where we had a smallish Caesar salad, the portions over here have been plenty enough to feed two people with one dish. An Asian lady behind us spoke in English to the waitress but she never engaged us in conversation. However, our next door neighbor came and sat down and ordered dinner. I felt she was German from the words she used with the waitress and we started speaking to her. She was a hoot and, by the way, a federal judge in Germany working on Asylum cases. She was there with a colleague from France working on issues of asylum. We talked for an hour and a half about the problems with assimilation of the people seeking Asylum. She said most of the time the parents cannot assimilate because they won't or can't learn German and therefore can't work. The children go to German schools learn the language and are assimilated more easily into the economy. She asked if we had the same situation in America and we said of course sometimes. Also sometimes with some asylum seekers they are highly educated in their home country but can't work in their profession because of the language problems and won't take any other work to help support their family. She said If she was an asylum seeker in another country, she would do whatever work she could to help her family and not receive all her support from the government. That would only be right according to her and show the children that you do what is right for the country who gave you shelter. She said she would even be willing to look out horse stalls. She is a horse enthusiast and told us last year it was so dry they had very little hay for the horses and it became a big problem. While we were talking, the Asian lady by and said to us in perfect English, “are you still here with a smile”? We would have asked her to join us but she kept walking. We had a great time in Warsaw but it was time to leave in the morning.

June 14

Before we headed out I sent a WhatsApp message to Concetta wishing her a happy birthday, assuming she would be in bed, but she was not. I pre-pulled but she was happy that we remembered. After that, we headed to Poznan, the birthplace in Poland. It was a nice easy drive and we found a hotel downtown with a small kitchenette that looks new on the inside. We went to the cathedral Island where in 966 according to history, Poland came into being as a state. They had a fantastic Interactive Museum with an English audio guide that gave the whole history of how it came to be. There's also the old Cathedral on the island that was destroyed during the war, but has since been resurrected. We also came to Poznan to see the Old Town Hall and the Clock Tower that has two goats butting heads at noon time. We got here and found a parking place just in time. And within 20 minutes of 12, the square in front of the Town Hall was full of people mostly kids on school holiday trips. Allegedly the Two Goats represent the time when there was a big banquet planned where the two goats were going to be the guests of honor when they escaped about the time when they were going to unveil the clock. The clockmaker was ordered add the errant animals to the mechanics of the clock. There is also an exceptionally painted house near the cathedral Island area that depicts several scenes in 3D. I'm not sure the pictures will do it justice, but I can tell you the wall is flat and there is a window in the wall that looks like it's in a 3D panel. There was construction going on across the street so there was construction material blocking the lower panels, but it is a fascinating piece of art. We wandered around the town square looking for a place to eat and a nice young lady talked to us about her restaurant so we decided to stop and have the specially prepared pork schnitzel with sauerkraut and cottage cheese. I'm not a cottage cheese fan but we did it anyway. It turns out it's more like boursin cheese than cottage cheese and the sauerkraut was delicious. The Schnitzel covered the whole plate and the girl was happy to bring us two plates to eat with. There is always a lively crowd in the town square every evening and we were there until almost 8 30. The weather has been fantastic albeit hotter than we would like. There is now A/C and most often not even a fan in the rooms. June 15 We left early in the morning you go to Turon To have some gingerbread. There's a gingerbread Museum and we wanted to see it. It gave us a very interesting about the history of gingerbread making in that town. I'm pretty sure gingerbread was invented in Nuremberg or at least perfected in Nuremberg. Turon was a nice town and had a couple of interesting buildings, but we had lunch and headed toward the town of Odry which has ancient stone circles in the forest nearby. It was a nice easy drive through the countryside to a hotel with a kitchenette. We weren't sure our GPS was finding the right place and we didn't see the address as we drove past it. We stopped and called the owner and his wife said my husband will come and show you the house which is 200 meters from where you're parked. Paul was very nice and all dressed up. He hurriedly got us into the room because his family was having a wedding that evening and we think he came from the restaurant where the dinner was being held for the family. It's a very rural and pleasant atmosphere. They even have a chicken coop in the backyard. We would have stayed longer, but the Wi-Fi doesn't work. The room only cost $32 and it’s like brand new, built by the owner.

June 16

We Have had two nights of violent storms but without the predicted hail. Last night was one of them. lights flickering off and on several times during the night. We know because the family had going in the room doesn't come on automatically when the power is restored. Around 2:30 am some members of the wedding party came home to the hotel. We got up early to leave for Gdansk via the stone circles. I had not paid for the room last night because the owner was celebrating a wedding. I waited until 10 a.m. to call him so we could check out and I woke him up. He came to me in about 15 minutes in the same outfit he was wearing the day before. I apologized for waking him but I need to pay. He said that's all right we had a good time and I didn't get to bed until 4 a.m. We wanted to pay and get on the road, but he wanted to talk about lots of things, many of them somewhat political. His English was very good for someone who had never studied it. I told him I had worked in Germany for 11 years and he said why? I said the money was good. He said but there are more important things than money. He doesn't like Germany and after seeing what happened in Poland I can understand. He was the first person to actually voice those negative opinions. We ended up talking for over an hour in the stairway outside our apartment. I told him we would stay if we could have a drink later. He said he would but this is the third day of the party and I have relatives from all over Poland here for my niece's wedding. His wife finally came out and asked for the key to something to get some food. She speaks almost fluent English and is a teacher in town. We had a long conversation some of it was about the political situation in America and the fact that Polish people have to buy a visa to come to America. He likes Trump is standing up to the Russians and he doesn't believe you can trust Putin at all. He is glad American soldiers are going to be stationed in Poland because he is always worried about the Russians coming back. His family has lived on this land in the countryside for several Generations. He said the Germans and the war didn't bother them because there was nothing there and then they had 40 Years of “stinking” communist rule. Now they start to come into their own, even after 20 plus years after the communists left. After that we programmed our cell phone and GPS in the car was a little town of Odry to see the stone circles. Sometimes GPS in a car and on the phone gets confused in rural areas in Europe. They told us to go one way I felt sure we should go the other way so we did. It turns out I was correct, but we were almost an hour away from that small town and when we booked the hotel I was sure Booking.Com said it was only 8 miles away. We had a very interesting Drive because 3 GPS systems finally had us going in the same direction and when it told us to turn off onto a gravel road, we were reluctant to do so. We knew the town was in the middle of nowhere so we followed the GPS. It was a very interesting 15 minute drive to the town after we turned onto the gravel road. It was a one-lane road mostly, dirt with pot holes and everything was filled with water. I wasn't sure our Ford Fiesta would go through some of them, but it did. We got into town and couldn't find the stone circles until we read a Polish sign and interpreted it on our phone. Everyone else who came to that town came on a paved Road. That's the trouble with GPS it takes you the shortest way, not necessarily the best way. We enjoyed seeing the stone circles, but all the information was in Polish so we had to figure some of it out and look it up again on the internet. We then headed for Gdansk for the evening. We got here close to 3 so we stopped and had coffee and pastry after finding a parking place in Old Town. The meter seemed to indicate that parking was free on Saturday and Sunday. We wandered around Old Town looking at some buildings and found an information office. We go a map and asked the girl if parking was free on Saturday and Sunday. She didn't think so but I told her I think that's what the parking meter said, so she said I guess it is Monday through Friday pay parking. It was too late to do anything about it then so we wandered around town till about 5 before we looked for a room. We ended up finding a nice hotel on the river that runs into the Baltic Sea and met a very interesting character when we checked in, Wojtek, pronounced like Voytek. It's too much to go into here, but suffice it to say he could have been a stand-up comic and some of his views on the world are a little bit warped, but in a funny way. He speaks very good English and we look forward to visiting with him later on Monday. I asked him about the parking meters and he said yes you have to pay money through Monday - Friday, Saturday and Sunday is free. And I asked if the hotel has parking. He said no but you park around the corner from our building the parking is free there. He said I know because that's where I park every day. Luckily, we had found a parking place 50 feet from hotel in the free zone, we hope. He gave us a very nice room on the fifth floor, but it had not been cleaned as promised so he put us in another room not quite as large but with a kitchenette overlooking the river and a drawbridge right outside our window. It's fun to look at when it goes up and down, but not at 6:15 in the morning when it makes its first opening or closing of the day. The drawbridge has a pre-recorded message telling everyone to get off the bridge in three languages and then there is an alarm beeping as it is going up or down. The sun comes up around 4:15 over here, but starts to get light earlier so we weren't fully awake but we weren't in deep sleep.

June 17

Yesterday was overcast and cool with a high of 68. Today promises to be sunny and cool with a high of 71. Finally we're not sweating all day. Before we went out sightseeing, I uploaded all the pictures I had taken through yesterday and now I am updating the narrative. We went back to the Green Gate where did the Amber museum is located. Turns out many museums are open for free on Monday. The Amber Museum gave a great historical perspective on Amber and what everyone thinks it really is, is pine rosin that has bugs and leaves trapped in it, etcetera. Poland and specifically, Gdansk is/was the center of the amber manufacturing industry in Europe and they traded Amber all the way to the Far East. That took us to lunch time so we ate lunch and wandered around Old Town looking at really old buildings. We went to see the armory that Wojtek told us about. On one side is very beautiful, but on the back side it shows the ravages of war and is very run down and not kept up in contrast is beautiful side that opens up onto the main street. We're okay with not seeing the two museums because that would have kept us out at least another two hours. As it was we were able to buy our breakfast bread and lunch for tomorrow, come back to the room and rest a little bit before we went out for coffee and to look around again for another hour or so. We found the delightful Market Hall which is built in the shape of a Main train station, but it is filled with shops selling clothes, jewelry, shoes, pastries, fresh fish and three or four butcher shops and outside was the vegetable market. It looks like they have some Polish heirloom tomatoes. Right now it’s cocktail hour and I'm mixing my Scotch because I have ice cubes for a change. As we were leaving for dinner, we stopped by the reception desk I spoke to our friend Wojtek for about 45 minutes. It was supposed to be a short farewell because we are leaving tomorrow. Eventually we went out to eat. We found a small restaurant near our hotel that had spaghetti carbonara. It was okay, not the best we've ever had and certainly not the worst. On the way back from dinner we thought we would get a picture of our friend with us for the blog. 45 minutes later, we took the picture and went to our room. We know more about him than he knows about himself and it was a very interesting, funny and intelligent conversation. He is very much interested in science fiction and good horror movies, not the bloody gory type. You don't get that on no stinking cruise ship. It is 9:29 and the sun hasn't quite set. More pictures will follow in a couple of days. Ciao

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olivergreyf · 5 years

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Coming full circle: Pizzagate, Dutroux-Network, German political elite

What is the connection between the Pizzagate-scandale, the Dutroux-network, and the German political elite? In this article I want to answer that.

First of all I want to outline the single scandales. Let’s start with „Pizzagate“. Pizzagate is a conspiracy theory which became virulent during the last US-preelection.

The Story in shortform:

Hillary Clinton runs together with her PR-advisers Tony and John Podesta and the pizzeria owner James Alefantis a childsex network in a way like back then in Belgium in the 1990s.

This was „proven“ by leaked emails of the Podesta brothers about pizza orders.

First of all the main points: There are no circumstantial and certainly no evidences that Hillary Clinton is linked to a pedophile network.

The emails of the Podesta brothers are also no circumstantial or evidences for pedophile activities.

After the rejection of the wikileaks mails as evidence, let’s have a look to two other allegedly evidences: Comet Ping Ping restaurants’s owner James Alefantis posted on Instagram pictures of children and added commentaries to these which are an evidence for pedophile affection.

Indeed Alefantis posted very weird pictures of children and commented them (we will later take a second look on that).

His and his friends comments are bizarre and give a hint to serious mental issues.

But this circumstance weakens if we look closer.

For example some are saying Alefantis has marked a picture of a baby with the hashtag „Hotard“ (connection between ho and retard).

We have to say, yes Alefantis marked this picture with this hashtag, but the hashtag refers to an other instagram user, who called Alefantis a hotard. [1]

On an other picture we see a young man with a baby on his arms. Alefantis commented it with the word „chickenlover“. Chickenlover is an expression for a pedophile homosexual.

However we need to have to look closely: If you click the hashtag „chickenlover“, you see a group of persons, who eat fried chicken (or something like this). You can interprete in a way, that the man and his baby-kid were guests of Alefantis, who ate chickenwings (or an other meal made from poultry).

Let’s have a look to the next allegedly evidence:

The deceased alt right activist Andrew Breitbart called John Podesta „cover upperer of under age sex slave op“ [2]

The tweet explained in short form:

Andrew Breitbart sent two secret agents in the left-wing charity organization ACORN.

They should ask, if one of the ACORN employees would help to start a child protitution network.

The result was that the agents got kicked out of the branch and in most cases the ACORN employee reported it to the police.

In two cases the employee didn’t do it, but when that became known they lost their jobs. However the US Government stopped the financial support for ACORN, that leads to the bankrupt of Acorn in 2010.

John Podesta is in that way involved as he was in the advisory committee, what advises how to deal with that scandale.

Breitbart stated with the tweet, that Podesta trys to cover up a (non-existing) child traffic network.

We noticed his aversion against John Podesta in an other situation: In an interview he screamed „F*** you, John Podesta“ and „John Pedesta“ (Pedesta = pedophile Podesta).

We can check off the tweet as evidence for Podestas guilt and notice the calling out „Pedesta“ as a weak indication.[3] [4] [5]

What remains of Pizzagate?

A lot!

The storyline about a child trafficking/pedophile network which involves Hillary Clinton is completely nonsense.

But we can be sure there is a group of pedophiles linked to ritual violence/satanism to which James Alefantis and the Podesta brothers belong.

In the centre of all that are, beside the Podestas and Alefantis, the music groups „Heavy Breathing“ and „Sex Stains“, which perform reguarly in Comet Ping Pong.

Heavy Breathing

The frontwoman of Heavy Breathing is primary school teacher (sic!) Amanda Kleinman.

She is teacher for children with disabilities who are in the first – eight grade.

Also she is scientific advisor of the George Washington University. [6]

A woman, that:

– speaks publicily about a baby’s noise when it gets raped [7]

– plays down Jared Fogle’s sex crimes using the words „We all have preferences“ and starts to laugh in a very creepy way [8]

– has a homepage filled up with disturbing pictures, which headlines „All the Children“ [9]

– uploaded a video in which she tells children a „christmas story“ which is about sexual acts. In this video we can see picture sequences showing alternately acts of violence, children, sexual acts, and the guru Sai Baba, who is known for pedophile accusations [10]

Additional there is the appearance of the band Sex Stains who is not less perverse.

Sex Stains

a band:

-who used a symbol in one of their music videos which is according the FBI a sign used by pedophiles [11] [12]

– who spread posters for a concert late at night at Comet Ping Pong with the suggestive hint „for all ages“ [13]

Now let’s talk about the main protagonist of the story James Alefantis

James Alefantis

a man, who:

– is according to the well known GQ magazine one of the 50 most powerful men in Washington, without a statement why he is (a simple restaurant owner) so powerful [14] -posted countless pictures on Instagram showing children in weird poses and situations and commented them ambiguous. He posted other suspicious pictures, for example one showing a man posing with two half-naked men, and wearing a pullover with the print „I love children“. He also shows himself in a strange way. [15] [16] – let perform both bands Sex Stains and Heavy Breathing in his restaurant ( the statements about noises of babies during rape and about Jared Fogle happened during perfomance in Comet Ping Pong) [17]

– hosts parties at the same place where small children dance on tables at night. [18] -uses a restaurant logo including four baphomets (inverse pentagram, recognition sign of satanists) [19]

-has his restaurant in the neighborhood to an pizzeria, which uses the same pedophile symbol in its firm logo as the band Sex Stains [20] –employed a DJ who posts constantly weird and obscene pictures [21] [22] [23]

Short outline about Tony Podesta

Tony Podesta, a man, who:

– befriend with the convicted sexual offender Dennis Hestert [24]

-has photografies of the „artist“ Magie Geerlinks on the walls of his house hanging, which shows almost naked children and complete nude youth. Also he has paintings of disturbed looking children an one of a baby in weird pose. [25] [26] [27] [29] [30]

– a morbid statue, which shows a headless body in strange pose (perhaps it shows the victims of the murder Jeffrey Dahmer) [31]

– is befriend with the „artist“ Marina Abramovic . Abramovic’s „art“work shows half-naked children, thematises cannibalism and other sick stuff. Moreover, she makes known, she is a satanist. For example she cuts in the name of art a baphomet in the stomach (the baphomet she uses frequently in her „art“work), poses with a ram head (ram-heads are a often used signs of satanists) and names herself at twitter „AbramovicM666“. [32] [33] [34] [35] [36] [37]

-gets invited from the self person to the so called „Spirit Cooking“. Spirit Cooking is an art-action, in which with red paint (or a blood mixture) odd messages and satanic signs get painted on the wall. [38]

– is befriend with Biljana Djurdjevic, a person, who paint disgusting pictures, which shows children and antichristian symbols

Now we will talk about the Belgian pedophile-network of Marc Dutroux

Marc Dutroux

a man, who:

-got involved probably 1984 in the first murder case

-got his first conviction of a sex crime 1986

-back then he kidnapped with his wife five girls in the age of 12 – 19, he abused them and filmed it, in order to sell the videos as porn.

– gets 1989 convicted to over 13 years prison, but 1992 he got pardoned by the Belgian justice ministre

-kidnapped in 1995 four girls, imprisoned and abused them and made videos of it. The videos he wanted sell for a big sum of money.

– middle 1995 a man, with them Dutroux commited robberies, reported the police, Dutroux offered him money, if he would kidnap a child for him

– Dutroux‘ mother sent a letter to the prosecutor, in which she stated, her son could be in connection with the disappearance of the missed girls

– in december 1995 the police searched Dutroux‘ house, in which basement dungeon were two of the kidnapped girls, becaus he was suspicious for car stealing

– allthough the policemen voices and the crying of children heard and videos found, which showed rapes and other suspicious stuff, the finished the search

– 1996 he kidnapped two girls in the age of 12-14

-at the 13. and 14. august 1996 get Marc Dutroux, his wife Michelle Martin, and the both accomplices Michel Lelièvre and Michel Nihoul arrested

– 2004 Marc Dutroux gets convicted to life sentence, Michelle Martin gets convicted to 30 years, the accomplies Michel Levievre got 25 years and Michel Nihoul 5 years.

– in 2012 Michelle Martin got released, nowadays, she lives in the house of a high ranking former judge [39] [40] [41]

Where is the connection between these both scandalels and what has the German politics-elite with all that to do?

The interface is a man, whose links to the German political prominence I at an earlier point in time mentioned:

Benoit „The Black Baron“ Bonvoisin

I cite my article „Schwarz-Schilling and the Black Baron“:

Benoit de Bonvoisin, a Belgian aristocrat, who is nicknamed „Black Baron“

De Bonvoisin is one of the most despicable persons of the modern Belgium.

Proofed is his financial support for the neo nazi organization Front de la Jeunesse (Youth Front).

Moreover he was treasurer of the CEPIC, who represent the ultra-right wing inside the CSP (belg. christdemocratic party)

Also he hides the wanted neo nazi Eckhard Weil.

Beside his connections to the right wing extremism, he is a key figure of the Dutroux scandale.

Inter alia, he got identyfied by the victim Regina Louf.

And it’s proofed, he is befriend with the former and present lawyer of Marc Dutroux. [42]

Meanwhile I am in the position to proof, that Bonvoisin has direct connections to the White House, at least with the Reagan and Geoge W. Bush Jr. administration he were in touch. [43] [44]

That reveals a telegram, what got published at wikileaks. It states about a secret meeting between Bonvoisin and the Reagan familiar Phil Crane. [45]

Bonvoisin worked closed together wit the CDU-politican Christian Schwarz-Schilling. [42]

Beside Schwarz-Schilling Bonvoisin were with a couple other German politicians in touch.

For example: Franz-Josef Strauß, Bruno Heck und Dieter A. Schmidt. [46]

While we only had the connection Schwarz-Schilling→Bonvoisin→Crane→Reagan/Bush → US-politic-elite so far, I can now verify the direct link between Dutroux-network and Pizzagate.

The direct link between Dutroux-network and Pizzagate is Axel Vervoordt. [47]

Who is Axel Vervoordt?

-Axel Vervoordt is a Belgian businessman and art collector

-Axel Vervoordt got blamed by Baron Yann de Meeus d’Argenteuil (who was back in time part of the Belgian elite) as participant of sex-parties, in which were children involved.

Baron Yann de Meeus d’Argenteuil stated a couple other names of participants of such parties. Short after the publishing of the dossier he died under unknown circumstances. Official cause of death: Suicide

-Moreover one of Vervoordt’s castle is situated directly near a castle, in which, according to the statement of the witness and Dutroux-victim Regina Louf, a studio for snuff films (snuff films are films in which humans get live on tape tortured, raped and killed) is located, Regina Louf also stated, in that studio get a 15 year old girl killed by a group of men (inter alia Michel Nihoul). [48] [49]

Let’s face the connection between Axel Vervoordt and Pizzagate.

Axel Vervoordt is befriend with the „artist“ Marina Abramovic.

Also he is in touch with the Podesta brothers. [47]

In a short formular:

Schwarz-Schilling→Bonvoisin/Vervoodt→ Abramovic/Podesta

German politician-elite→Dutroux-complex→ Pizzagate

What further hints are there for an involvement of German politicians in Pizzagate and Dutroux-network?

Beside the evidences of the concrete connection, there are plenty circumstantial, which point in direction Germany.

-A close confidant of Dutroux, the Greek Mikhail Diakostavrianos, had a lot of contacts to Germany. [50]

-The Berliner newspaper „BZ“ reported, that a boy, who was kidnapped in 1993 fall victim to a group of pedophiles, which were in contact with Marc Dutroux. Beside contacts to Germany, he had also some to Slovakia. [51]

-There are hints, Dutroux was active for the East-German (GDR) intelligence [52]

-Proofed is at least one travel of Diakostavrianos and Dutroux to Slovakia, in order to start prostitution network. In the trial it became known, that Dutroux raped in 1994 a woman in Slovakia and in 1996 a Slovakian woman in Belgium.

Bonvoisin and Schwarz-Schilling worked closely together. The friend of Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush flew directly after a private meeting with Bonvoisin to Bonn (Germany), where he mets the German chancellor Helmut Schmidt and the famous German politician Franz-Josef Strauß.[53]

What (possible) connections are there beside this?

A further intersection between Pizzagate and Dutroux is the topic satanism.

Hints to satanism in the Pizzagate complex:

-baphomets on the entry and exit of Alefantis‘ restaurant

– baphomet incised at the belly of Marina Abramovic, also baphomets at the „art“ performances and the number 666 at her perfomances and her twitter name.

– inversed cross at an artwork of Biljana Djurdevic.

Hints to satanism in the Dutroux complex:

– the back them 19-year old woman Naomi M. stated, she was member in a satanist network. She had take part of the ritual killing of a newborn. The network consists of members of her family . She and her brother stated, her relatives met Marc Dutroux a few times (!)

-one of the lawyers of Marc Dutroux said on a trial day about the link of Dutroux to the satanist group „Abrasax“: We want the whole story, also the connection to the Abrasax sect. the Belgian police investigated intensivly satanist group „Institute Abrasax“

– it is noticable, that according a report of the Fortean Times Magazine 1997 a couple of Belgian cops get exposed as member of that satanist group. These cops lived in Charleroi, the town, in which Dutroux lived and had had his house, in which the dead victims were found

– during a house search at the Dutroux accomplice Weinstein the police found a letter, which stated „don’t forget the present for the highpriest“, an other letter stated „you need necessarily eight victims between the ages 1 to 33 for a satanistic ceremony [54]

Shortened (not perfect translated) version of the German article:

“ Der Kreis schließt sich: Pizzagate, Dutroux-Netzwerk, deutsche Polit-Elite “

https://olivernevermind.wordpress.com/2019/01/02/der-kreis-schliesst-sich-pizzagate-dutroux-netzwerk-deutsche-polit-elite/

Internet Presences of the author: https://olivernevermind.wordpress.com/ https://vk.com/public156485634

Video Channel: https://www.bitchute.com/channel/olivernevermindger/

Email: [email protected]

[1] stateofthenation2012.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/Screen-Shot-2016-12-03-at-2.48.55-PM.png

[2] external-preview.redd.it/fJvIJoFBvFL67EDbe4g8xnKnRvWnLXahm6MR5nMWSRM.jpg?auto=webp&s=5a6869bc92a048122183e7d2ff8cb4295268aab1

[3] https://www.inquisitr.com/3754246/did-andrew-breitbart-expose-john-podestas-connection-to-a-child-sex-ring-before-his-death-pizzagate-conspiracy-theory-takes-another-turn-debunked/

[4] https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/ACORN#Aufl%C3%B6sung

[5] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4V50eWOgro

[6] https://advising.columbian.gwu.edu/amanda-kleinman-0

[7] https://archive.is/o/OhTe9/https://isgp-studies.com/miscellaneous/pizzagate/comet-pingpong-employees/heavy-breathing-at-comet-ping-pong-euthanasia.avi

[8] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JZAsfjOloo

[9] http://archive.is/hMfkx

[10] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oicUO0sz08c

[11] https://wikileaks.org/wiki/FBI_pedophile_symbols

[12] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IXZY4-V5OIo ab 0:06

[13] https://myemail.constantcontact.com/This-week-at-Comet-Ping-Pong—-SEX-STAINS–COUP-SAUVAGE—THE-SNIPS–GOVERNESS—-MYKKI-BLANCO–OLIVIA-NEUTRON-JOHN.html?soid=1103508274147&aid=6ByNyKcRcoA

[14] https://www.gq.com/gallery/50-most-powerful-people-in-washington-dc (Platz 49)

[15] https://www.sott.net/image/s18/371810/full/maxresdefault.jpg

[16] https://steemitimages.com/p/4W3i2hyrJTVfeKM2gnkMP78mrW3reAcNuLX8XoM7B2nYhPzDbkr?format=match&mode=fit&width=640

[17] https://myemail.constantcontact.com/This-week-at-Comet-Ping-Pong—-SEX-STAINS–COUP-SAUVAGE—THE-SNIPS–GOVERNESS—-MYKKI-BLANCO–OLIVIA-NEUTRON-JOHN.html?soid=1103508274147&aid=6ByNyKcRcoA

[18] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqZsIWu2UiI (ab 1:00)

[19] https://www.cometpingpong.com/

[20] http://archive.is/v59l1

[21] https://www.washingtonblade.com/2013/09/25/queery-joshua-vogelsong/

[22] https://archive.li/mKH6M/46d6ebc8417af5299c413fb4b63bfd3900a7018c.2

[23] https://i.4pcdn.org/pol/1478658187010.jpg

[24] https://wikileaks.org/podesta-emails/emailid/48488

[25] https://isgp-studies.com/miscellaneous/pizzagate/tony-podesta-owned-art/tony-podesta-owned-art-pizzagate-related-biljana-djurdjevic-margi-geerlinks-and-katy-grannan.jpg

[26] http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A43480-2004Sep22.html

[27] https://www.egaliteetreconciliation.fr/local/cache-vignettes/L415xH575/geerlink-96c74.png

[28] http://archive.is/qM73c

[29] https://artandactivismsite.files.wordpress.com/2017/02/894a7-biljanadjurdjevic_serbia_paintings_artodyssey6.jpg

[30] http://ibankcoin.com/zeropointnow/files/2016/11/bmyVbZT0FtXEswwHg1WxqGYNkcOQVL99KYeUK_90HX0.jpg

[31] https://issuu.com/washingtonlife/docs/wl0615_inside_homes

[32] https://artwrite54.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/alana-cappetta-3.png

[33] http://archive.is/QHQXL

[34] http://www.medienkunstnetz.de/werke/rhythm-5/

[35] https://dailyartfair.com/exhibition/3298/marina-abramovic-lisson-gallery

[36] http://polodearte.com/la-relacion-amorosa-mas-emblematica-del-arte/

[37] https://twitter.com/brittpettibone/status/801948883790143488

[38] http://www.trueactivist.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/spriritcooking-400×265.png

[39] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marc_Dutroux https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marc_Dutroux

[40] http://www.aufklaerungsgruppe-krokodil.de/DerFallMarcDutroux_1_neu.pdf [40² (S.6 und 15) ]

[41] https://brf.be/national/872291/

[42] https://olivernevermind.wordpress.com/2018/05/25/schwarz-schilling-und-der-schwarze-baron/

[42²] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZip9_1iCGM (ab 2:00)

[43] https://home.isi.org/memoriam-phil-crane-1930%E2%80%932014

[44] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phil_Crane#/media/File:Phil_Crane_meets_with_George_W._Bush_and_Bill_Thomas.jpg

[45] https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/1977STATE295249_c.html

[46] https://isgp-studies.com/2011-10-26-first-ever-documents-on-le-cercle-pinay

[47] https://wikileaks.org/podesta-emails/emailid/15893

[48] https://www.brigitte.de/woman/reise-genuss/lebensart/galeristen-und-kunstsammler–wohnen-mit-stil–zu-hause-bei-axel-vervoordt-10492666.html

[49] https://wikileaks.org/podesta-emails/emailid/15893

[50] S.42 https://dutrouxscandalanalysis.wordpress.com/

[51] https://www.bz-berlin.de/berlin/manuel-schadwald-auf-jacht-missbraucht-und-ermordet

[52] http://archive.is/nHZGd

[53] https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/1977STATE295249_c.html

[54] http://www.aufklaerungsgruppe-krokodil.de/DerFallMarcDutroux_2.pdf

#pizzagate #germany #marc dutroux

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