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reallifesultanas · 3 years

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Portrait of Murad IV / IV. Murad portréja

Birth and childhood

Murad was born in July 1612 as the second son and fifth child of Ahmed I and his favorite concubine, Mahpeyker Kösem. In addition to Ahmed's two sons from Kösem, Ahmed had another son, Prince Osman, the eldest child. Murad belonged to a generation of princes who, for the first time in history, did not have to fear the law of fratricide. According to a tradition enshrined in law by Mehmed II, sultans had to execute all of their brothers in order to maintain order. However, Sultan Ahmed did not do this when he left his brother, Mustafa, alive after his accession to the throne in 1603. Thus the sons of Ahmed were already born into a new world. It is a fact, however, that Ahmed was not sure of his decision for a long time, so he repeatedly attempted to execute Mustafa, but in the end, his conscience and Kösem Sultan convinced him, so Mustafa was saved.

Murad lived his early childhood in relative calmness, as his father was a popular sultan, his mother held the rank of Haseki Sultan, and she was a very influential and popular woman. However, all this changed in 1617. Sultan Ahmed died and a kind of inheritance chaos broke out in the empire. The people had enough of the fratricide but Ahmed had not left a legal decree about who should follow him on the throne: his younger brother, Mustafa, or his eldest son, Osman. Eventually, with the accession of Mustafa to the throne, the inheritance officially changed, the throne no longer passed from father to son but was taken over by the oldest male of the dynasty. So Murad and his siblings could survive, but they lived in solitary confinement in Topkapi Palace, while their mother Kösem Sultan along with her daughters moved to the Old Palace.

The following years were quite chaotic, Mustafa was soon dethroned because of his mental illness, and Murad’s half-brother, Osman, ascended the throne. Osman was a very unpopular, bad ruler who, although tried to maintain a fair relationship with Kösem Sultan in his early reign, he later in January 1621 executed Kösem's son so Murad's brother, Prince Mehmed. Murad and his younger brothers certainly lived in awe away from their mothers, their sisters, locked up, exposed to a tyrant ruler, and it cannot be ruled out that they witnessed the execution. Eventually, Osman's brutal murder brought relief to them. But it also gave Murad a lifelong lesson that not even a sultan can be safe.

Accession to the throne

The brutal execution of Osman was attributed to Halime Sultan and her son, Mustafa I, so that Sultan Mustafa was eventually dethroned again and his mother exiled to the Old Palace. Murad, just 11 years old, was the next in the line of inheritance. Given his age, the divan and ulema appointed his mother Kösem Sultan as a regent, until Murad himself became mature enough to rule. Although Murad could relief as he became the sultan, it was certainly not easy for him to start a new life after such a difficult childhood. It is also important to note that Murad was able to spend some time with his mother last time in 1617 at the age of five. He lived separated from his mother for six years between 1617 and 1623, this presumably caused serious difficulty for the two of them to re-establish a mother-son relationship.

Murad was a difficult child to handle. Several letters of Kösem Sultan have survived in which she complains to the Grand Vizier about how much Murad does not listen to her, and sometimes he even refuses to meet her for days. In addition to the long isolation, their similar personalities did not help to form a nice relationship much either. They were both leading individuals, with a very strong will, so they had a hard time getting along with each other. They argued many times, after which Kösem Sultan was the one who wanted to reconcile with Murad. After one of their big quarrels, for example, she gifted a horse to Murad, and at other times she organized a huge ceremony for him. In addition, Kösem has regularly expressed concern about Murad’s health, suggesting that perhaps Murad was already struggling with health problems at the time.

From the time of Ahmed's death, the empire gradually fell into anarchy. They lost several important areas and tried in vain to recapture them. Furthermore, Abaza Mehmed Pasha, who revolted after the execution of Osman II, refused to recognize Murad as his ruler and continued his rebellion. Nor did this rebellion was suppressed by the pashas sent against him. To exacerbate the situation, in 1625 a plague broke out in the capital, killing thousands of people. For the first time in the same year, Murad rebelled against his mother’s will. Kösem made a treaty with the Spaniards at the time, but Murad did not like that, so in the end, Kösem gave up.

Then in 1628, Murad became seriously ill, lying in bed for weeks. His exact illness was not revealed, some said his epilepsy started at this time, others said he had digestive problems. But good things also happened that year, Abaza Mehmed Pasha’s rebellion finished and they captured him. In the same year, Murad gave another signal that he soon wanted to take over the reign and openly confronted his mother when he dissolved his sister Fatma’s marriage to Admiral Çatalcalı Haşan Pasha, whom his mother had given special attention to. In addition, Murad was increasingly disturbed by the fact that his mother let corruption go on. Kösem Sultan herself also gave special attention to pashas she liked and this provoked resentment from many, especially her son, Murad. For example, Kösem gave a very important Janissary position to Hafiz Ahmed Pasha, the new husband of Murad's sister, Fatma. However, this was too much for the Sipahis and the Janissaries. In the end, it was the event that marked the beginning of Murad’s absolute monarchy.

The absolute monarch

In 1632, after the appointment of Hafiz Ahmed Pasha, a Sipahis and Janissary rebellion broke out, during which the rebels executed several loyal men of Sultan Murad, including his close friend Musa Çelebi. To make matters worse, the soldiers publicly demanded that Murad show them his younger brothers. By doing so, they wanted to signal to him that if they wanted to, they could replace him with one of his brothers; on the other hand, such unfounded rumors circulated that Murad and Kösem got rid of the princes. Murad was forced to show his younger brothers. Murad never forgot this and never forgave either the rebels or his brothers. In fact, Murad was immeasurably humiliated at that time, he lost his allies and close friends. No ruler could leave that unrevenged. However, Murad was thoughtful and intelligent enough not to take revenge immediately but only execute the chief rebels when his power was consolidated a few months later.

Either way, after the rebellion in May 1632, Murad took control and resigned his mother from the regent position. Kösem Sultan did not object, she stood aside, but she would have tried to help her son, show him the way. Murad did not appreciate this and did not listen to his mother's advice. Murad was compulsively trying to keep his mother away from politics, and it is clear from his actions that he was disturbed by his mother’s great influence. That is why, as soon as he took power under his own control, Murad sought to replace his mother's men, such as his own brother-in-law, Hafiz Ahmed Pasha, who had already been mentioned, so that he could begin his monopoly by withdrawing himself from his mother's influence.

Although Kösem and Murad's relationship was undoubtedly stigmatized by the 1632 uprising, it would be a mistake to think that Murad completely excluded his mother from his life. He always respected her as the leader of the harem and as his mother, and according to a report from 1632, he even asked for his mother's opinion on his private life. Namely, Knolles reported at this time that after the birth of Murad's seventh daughter, he wanted to marry (or rather gave the Haseki rank) to the child's mother to express his love for the woman, but before he did so, he asked for Kösem's opinion. It is an interesting question of who this woman was, for we know of the only privileged consort of Murad’s early reign was Haseki Ayşe Sultan, but we do not know exactly who her children were and when they were born.

Also, when Murad left the capital for a shorter period, he always left his mother as a supervisor, and Kösem Sultan always reported everything accurately to her son. When Kösem noticed a problem, she immediately signaled it to Murad with the most detailed description. A concrete example of the former occurred in 1634, when, in Murad's absence, Kösem learnt that a mufti had not accepted one of Murad's decisions and wanted to review it. She immediately sent a message to her son, “My heroic lion, come immediately. There are rumours of intentions towards the throne and people are starting to gather”. Murad didn't need anything more, he returned immediately and executed the muft without any investigation. It was the first such event in the history of the empire, they had never executed a mufti before. On another occasion, Murad asked Kösem Sultan to do a diplomatic talk with the Crimean Khan.

The tyrant

Murad's personality is very divisive. Many consider him simply a tyrant, but he is more than that. Many times his cruel acts certainly stem from his difficult childhood and his fear of dethronement. Plenty of legends are known about his cruelty, like that he killed people for pleasure and often tortured them innocently, but also we can hear such things that the Sultan ran through the streets at night with a sword and killed anyone who came face to face with him. In this form, these are, of course, just lies and very strong exaggerations. But it is a fact true that he had many acts that did not make him particularly popular. Kösem Sultan tried to influence her son in every possible way and tried to cushion her son’s aggressive actions with her own charities.

Murad banned alcohol and tobacco and even closed all cafes because he thought the Janissaries and Sipahis gathered and allied against him there. And whoever broke the rules could face severe punishment, even the death penalty. To keep his orders, he often go to the streets in disguise and acted in person against those who violated the ordinance. But it is also a fact that if he experienced an injustice or a frustrating thing at these times, he also tried to do against it. He also changed a lot of basic laws, tightened penalties, and made the death penalty more common for even minor offenses. Legends commemorate a case in which he executed a vizier for beating his mother-in-law. At other times, an ambassador, Alvise Contarini, was imprisoned for a minor crime. Contarini's accounts became unreliable after this incident, as he often wrote lies and exaggerations about Murad because of his personal resentments. This was the case, for example, when Contarini reported that Murad was systematically threatening his mother, siblings, and concubines with a beating. However, all the other evidence reports statethe opposite, claiming he was very nice to his family, so behind that account, perhaps Contarini’s dislike have been the only reason.

While there was no doubt that Murad’s austerity was excessive, he managed to put the empire in order, chaos and anarchy seemed to actually be resolved. Murad sat on the throne after chaotic times when the sultans were less respected by the people than any time before. In the time of Suleiman I, the sultan was almost a deity, an inaccessible, superior creature. And a sultan had to maintain this appearance in order to rule an empire of this size. In the chaos that followed the death of Ahmed I, the people saw, on the example of Osman, that the Sultan was indeed a mortal, simple man, the divine image built over the centuries was destroyed. Murad tried to rebuild this. When this did not go in an easy way, he did so in the way of violence and rigor, but anyway he established order in his country.

Not surprising, that Murad considered Yavuz Selim I as his role model, who controlled with strictness, and who did not tolerate contradiction. Murad, following the theory of his teacher, believed that the decline of the empire began during Suleiman's reign, so it was clear that a former successful sultan had to be imitated by him. In addition, Murad had an undisguised goal of restoring the old succession-system. Although he owed his own life to the change of the succession-system, he still believed it posed too many dangers if a Sultan had rivals roughly the same age and same education as him. While many people clearly condemn this, we have to admit, there was truth in this. The brutal execution of Osman and the way as they used Mustafa as a puppet, are all good examples of how dangerous was the existence of brothers. Murad wanted his own son as his heir, which is why he executed his younger brothers over time, except for the mentally unstable Ibrahim. This, by the way, raises several questions, especially about the sons of Murad.

There are quite a lot of question-marks about Murad’s children. We know from Evliya Çelebi's accounts that Murad had many sons, but almost without exception they all died in infancy, for they were born in rather poor health. Unfortunately, for most of his children, we don’t know when they died. What is certain is that in 1634, according to an ambassadorial report, he had two infant sons in poor health. However, despite these, we must assume that when Murad executed his brothers (1635, 1638) there must have been at least one living son of his who was no longer an infant. His eldest son, Ahmed, was born in 1627 and many say he lived the longest, though no exact date is available for his death. There are also those who say that Murad did not have an older living son at these times, he simply wanted the end the dynasty, so he killed his brothers. The latter is supported by the fact that at the time of Ibrahim I's accession (1640) there was not a single son of Murad alive, so perhaps none of them were alive in Murad's last years. However, this does not mean that in 1635 and 1638 he did not have a son who was still alive. All we know from an ambassadorial account from 1637 is that at least 6 sons of Murad died before the age of one, and the health of the others was very fragile. But we don’t know what and how many children the author meant by the others.

Murad, the individual

We are forced to consider Murad as a tyrant in some ways, even with the utmost benevolence, as his decrees and his punishments, often unbalanced with the degree of sin, suggest so. At the same time, Evliya Çelebi's descriptions reveal much more about Murad's personality. Based on these, it seems that the cruel Murad was just a mask behind which the sultan hid his true nature. Murad believed that people and his soldiers will respect him only if they were afraid of him. We must understand that in such era it was logical. All his actions suggest that also, so maybe that’s why he played the cruel Murad role. Of course, this could not have been very far from his true personality, since otherwise, he would not have been able to carry out his cruelty that much.

But what do we know about Murad, the individual? According to others, he was an extremely intelligent, educated man with a very good sense of humor and was a talented poet. According to Evliya, "He was an emperor with a dervish’s nature, kind-hearted and devil-may-care." The latter analogy may have been particularly fitting to Murad because he had great respect and appreciation for the whirling dervishes. So much that he honored a dervish named Ömer with the address "my father." By the way, they often made music together with Ömer. Murad wrote the lyrics and the dervish added the melody. And we know for sure that, contrary to rumors, Murad was not crazy. He was characterized by a certain level of paranoia, but given what had happened to him in the past - he first-hand experienced his brother's death and then his half-brother's brutal murder - was not particularly surprising. However, among the people he loved and trusted, Murad blossomed and showed his true face. The real Murad was a young man in full force, with whom they could humorize even about the most personal things, with whom they could have fun and converse about serious things at the same time. However, Evliya did not doubt that Murad was a very stubborn and strong-minded man, especially towards his mother.

Evliya is also associated with a famous (or infamous) story that many consider the Sultan to be homosexual. The point of Evliya’s story is that they talked to the sultan about a beautiful person, Handan, who the sultan loves and who Evliya says is really charming also. According to the story, the sultan asked Handan to take a rose from his/her hair and give it to Evliya to cheer up the grumpy Evliya. There would be basically nothing special about the story if it all happened in a Western empire. However, knowing the customs of the Ottoman Empire, it becomes clear to us that Handan could not have been a woman, since a harem concubine could not be in the company of foreign men, especially not with uncovered hair. It also makes it difficult to accurately recognize Handan that the name 'Handan' is a unisex name and that there is no male or female gender in the Ottoman language so we cannot know if Evliya talks about a he or a she. Because of this, many people think that Handan was a eunuch or a young man. It is important to know that in the Ottoman Empire until the mid-1800s, homosexuality was accepted, not punishable. In most brothels (because they were also present in the empire) not only women but also men were available. In addition, since Sultan Mehmed II, pederasty has been accepted among sultans and pashas. Mehmed II (who was probably really gay or bisexual) inherited this ancient Greek tradition, which refers to the homosexual relationship between an adult man and a man much younger than him, after the conquare of Constantinople. Later, there were sultans who took advantage of this opportunity and there were those who did not. However, pederasty was primarily a status symbol rather than a relationship driven by sexual desire.

Many have also rumored that Kösem Sultan has sent men to Murad’s bed when he was young, but there is no indication that this is true. Either way, Murad’s sexual orientation will probably never be revealed and maybe it doesn’t even matter. There were two significant concubines in his life, Haseki Ayşe Sultan, who dominated his reign almost throughout, and who, in addition to Esmehan Kaya, must have been the mother of several other children; and there was another woman whose name could not be reconstructed and who came to Murad's life in the last years of his reign and who became a Haseki also. Ayşe, however, was certainly Murad's favorite throughout his reign, as he even took her with him to his Revan campaign. This thing occurred in the case of the early sultans quite often, but from the early modern period of the Empire, sultans did not let their wives and consorts accompany them to war as it was quite risky.

From the tyrant to the adored sultan

Like Murad’s predecessors, he was aware that the fastest way to gain popularity was a successful campaign. Murad was under particular pressure, for at the beginning of his reign they lost particularly important territories, so he had to somehow rectify this. Murad was truly a man of a warrior nature, and there are also legends about his physical performances. It is true that his health was not very good, but he had a very strong physique. He was a tall, robust man with black hair and eyes and pale skin. So Murad, in addition to being handsome with his physical strength, was also able to impress his subjects on a regular basis. Legends revolve about bows that no one but him could stretch or maces that no one could swing but him. According to Evliya, the sultan often dropped his clothes from one minute to the next and began wrestling with a guard just nearby. On other occasions, the sultan simply lifted Evliya over his head without any particular effort. Such a fit, and quite an agile sultan in relation to his stature, was well suited to warfare. And such a sultan was finally able to convince his subjects and soldiers that they could win the war with him!

After several unsuccessful attempts by his pashas in the first half of his reign to reclaim the lost territories, Murad decided to embark on a campaign in person. His first campaign took place in 1635, and the goal was to recapture Yerevan (Revan). They left Üsküdar in the spring and although they often stopped on the way to execute some bandits in Anatolia or to execute those against whom there were many complaints, they even reached Yerevan by July. Roughly a week after the siege, on August 8, Mirgune Tahmasp Quli Khan, the governor who ruled the castle, gave up the castle and surrendered. Murad appreciated that Mirgune Tahmasp Quli Khan accepted him as his new ruler and a deep friendship developed between them. The man's new name became Emirgün and he was with Murad until his death. According to some, it was Emirgün who pushed Murad to start drinking alcohol more and more often.

After the victory, Murad went to Tabriz with his troops, but they could not keep the city, and Murad also got sick, so they traveled to Van in the winter. And by the end of the year, they had returned to Istanbul, where Kösem Sultan was waiting for her son with a huge ceremony. The whole city celebrated Murad’s victory. Murad immediately ordered the construction of a pavilion inside Topkapi Palace in honor of the victory. It later became the Revan Pavilion. Murad planned every step wisely and always acted when the conditions were right. He did so when he dealt with the chief rebels of the 1632 uprising, and he did so when he wanted to get rid of his half-brothers, Bayezid and Suleiman, who posed a great threat to him. Murad knew that fratricide was not to the liking of the people, he knew that a sultan could easily be dethroned for this, but he definitely wanted to carry out his plans and bring back the inheritance from father to son. He, therefore, ordered the execution of the two princes at the moment when his popularity was at its highest and when the whole empire celebrated the victory of his. Although the execution of the two princes naturally shocked the people, everyone was preoccupied with the victory, the booming economy, so they did not turn against Murad.

Murad's popularity was not really diminished by the fact that the Safavids recaptured Yerevan in the spring of the following year. Of course, he had no idea to accept this either, but he waited again for the most opportune moment. It finally came in the spring of 1638. This time, he did not satisfied with Yerevan, he set a goal for Baghdad. By the end of October, he had already reached Baghdad and encamped around the city, and began the siege. On December 24, Bektash Khan, the governor of Baghdad, surrendered, so in January Murad was finally able to enter the coveted city, as did his great predecessor, Suleiman I, 100 years ago (in 1534). In Baghdad, Murad ordered that the mausoleum, previously built by Suleiman, be repaired and renovated.

Although Murad had a strong physique, his health was never good, and the horrific camp conditions worsened it. Especially since he mostly trained with his soldiers, he spent a lot of time with them to gain their support. His worsening alcoholism also did not help the situation. In Diyarbekir, the sultan eventually became so ill that they had to station there for months before they could reach Istanbul. While Murad was lying in bed, his Grand Vezir Tayyar Mehmed Pasha made an agreement with the Persian Shah to finally end the war that had lasted since 1603 and restored the Amasia Treaty of 1555, restoring peace between the two countries and allowing the Ottoman Empire to keep Baghdad.

Returning to Istanbul in June, the Sultan was greeted again with a huge celebration, glorified by all. True to his custom, he crowned this victory by building a new pavilion the Baghdad Pavilion. Unfortunately, he also tried to keep his other custom, so he ordered his brother, Prince Kasim (and perhaps Prince Ibrahim along with him) to the Revan Pavilion, where Prince Kasim was executed, and some said Ibrahim's life was saved only by the prayer and threat of their mother, Kösem Sultan. Others say Murad didn't want to execute Ibrahim just Kasim. Kasim's execution was particularly significant because, unlike the two princes who had been executed earlier, Kasim was a full-brother to Murad, and, according to contemporary accounts, they were even close to each other. By this time Murad was beginning to be overwhelmed by his illness, alcoholism, and paranoia.

His death and legacy

After Murad returned to Istanbul, he was in very poor health for months. He had several chronic diseases, but we don’t know much about them. Some said he may have had epilepsy, others said he may have had similar digestive problems as his father (Ahmed I) and grandmother (Handan Sultan). These were further aggravated by combat injuries, as Murad himself fought in his campaigns; and cirrhosis due to alcoholism.

Murad was able to recover from his fighting injuries, as in the early 1640s he celebrated Ramadan without any problems, met his vezirs, and took part in events. In fact, to further tire his already sick body, he regularly horse-rided to places, went hunting, and alcoholized with his friends. On one such occasion, Murad lost consciousness and was taken back to Topkapi Palace by his guards. The sultan sometimes regained consciousness, it seems that by this time he already knew he was dying. At his special request, he was transferred to the Revan Pavilion, where he had executed his younger brother a few months earlier. Maybe that's why he wanted to die there too. Not knowing who had been by his side in his last hours, but they probably couldn't have kept his mother away even if they had wanted to as they both were in the palace. According to some, on his deathbed, Murad also ordered the execution of Ibrahim, but there is no evidence of this.

A huge crowd gathered for Murad's funeral, his black horse was walking adorned in front of his coffin, and several of those present sobbed loudly. Thus, it is not true that the people rejoiced at the death of the Sultan. Although Murad was not perfect, he performed many cruel deeds, yet after decades he was the first sultan to conquer and he was the one who successfully restored the peace of the empire for which the people loved him. Murad IV was the last sultan to conquer in the true classical sense since no more sultans led a campaign in person. Murad resembled Yavuz Selim I or Suleiman I, who ruled in the early 1500s, rather than his immediate predecessors. Thus his person gave a strong end to the age of conquests and the heyday of the Ottoman Empire. He was buried in the mausoleum of his father, Ahmed I, because during his short life he did not have the opportunity to build his own mausoleum, and, according to many, he was not even preoccupied with architecture.

Used sources: C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; L. Peirce - The imperial harem; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; F. Suraiya, K. Fleet - The Cambridge History of Turkey 1453-1603; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; : F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery; S. Faroqhi - Another Mirror for Princes, The Public Image of the Ottoman Sultans and Its Reception

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Születése és gyermekkora

Murad 1612 júliusában született I. Ahmed és kedvenc ágyasa, Mahpeyker Köszem második fia és ötödik gyermekeként. Ahmednek Köszem két fia mellett volt még egy fia, Oszmán herceg, a legidősebb gyermek. Murad ahhoz a herceggenerációhoz tartozott, akiknek először a történelemben nem kellett a testvérgyilkosság törvényétől tartaniuk. A II. Mehmed által törvénybe foglalt, de nála sokkal idősebb hagyomány szerint a trónralépő szultánnak minden testvérét ki kell végeztetni, a rend fenntartásának érdekében. Ahmed szultán azonban ennek nem tett eleget, mikor 1603-as trónralépése után életben hagyta öccsét, Musztafát. Így Ahmed fiai már egy új világba születtek. Tény azonban, hogy Ahmed sokáig nem volt biztos döntésében, így többször is megkísérelte Musztafa kivégzését, de végül a lelkiismerete és Köszem győzködése használt, így Musztafa megmenekült.

Murad koragyermekkorát relatív nyugalomban élhette, hiszen apja népszerű szultán volt, édesanyja a Haszeki szultána rangot viselte, igen befolyásos és népszerű asszony volt. Mindez azonban 1617-ben megváltozott. Ahmed szultán meghalt és egyfajta örökösödési káosz sújtotta a birodalmat. Az embereknek elege volt a testvérgyilkosságból, azonban Ahmed nem rendelekzett arról, hogy ki kövesse a trónon: öccse, Musztafa vagy legidősebb fia, Oszmán. Végül Musztafa trónralépésével hivatalosan is megváltozott az örökösödés, többé nem apáról fiúra szállt a trón, hanem a legidősebb férfi foglalta el azt. Murad és testvérei így életben maradhattak, azonban elzárva éltek a Topkapi Palotában, míg édesanyjuk Köszem a Régi Palotába költözött lányaival.

A következő évek meglehetősen zavarosak voltak, Musztafát mentális betegsége miatt hamarosan trónfosztották és Murad féltestvére, Oszmán került a trónra. Oszmán nagyon népszerűtlen, rossz uralkodó volt, aki bár uralkodásának korai szakaszában igyekezett korrekt viszonyt ápolni Köszem szultánával, később 1621 januárjában kivégeztette Murad édesbátyját, Mehmed herceget. Murad és öccsei minden bizonnyal rettegésben éltek innentől, anyjuktól, nővéreiktől távol, elzárva, kiszolgáltatva egy zsarnok uralkodónak, és az sem kizárt, hogy tanúi voltak a kivégzésnek. Végül Oszmán brutális meggyilkolása hozott enyhülést számukra. Ám ugyanakkor életreszóló leckét is adott Muradnak arról, hogy még egy szultán sem lehet biztonságban.

Trónralépés

Oszmán brutális kivégzése Halime szultánához és fiához, I. Musztafához volt köthető, így végül újra trónfosztották Musztafa szultánt, anyját pedig száműzték a Régi Palotába. Az öröklési sorban a mindössze 11 éves Murad következett. Korára való tekintettel a divan és ulema édesanyját, Köszem szultánát nevezte ki régensnek, míg Murad maga elég éretté nem válik az uralkodáshoz. Murad bár fellélegezhetett, hiszen ő lett a szultán, ilyen nehéz gyermekkorral bizonyára nem volt könnyű új életet kezdeni. Emellett fontos leszögezni, hogy Murad utoljára öt évesen 1617-ben tölthetett hosszabb időt édesanyjával, az 1617 és 1623 közötti hat évet anyjától elszakítva, bezárva élte, így feltehetőleg az is komoly nehézséget okozott kettejüknek, hogy újra kialakítsanak egy anya-fia kapcsolatot.

Murad nehezen kezelhető gyermek volt, Köszem több levele is fennmaradt, melyekben a nagyvezírnek panaszkodik arról, mennyire nem bír Muraddal és, hogy az mennyire nem hallgat rá, sőt olykor napokig találkozni sem hajlandó vele. Amellett, hogy az elszigeteltség éket vert közéjük, hasonló személyiségük sem segített sokat. Mind a ketten vezéregyéniségek voltak, igen erős akarattal, így nehezen jöttek ki egymással. Sokszor vitatkoztak egymással, mely viták után Köszem volt az, aki békülni szeretett volna Muraddal. Egyik nagy veszekedésük után például egy lovat ajándékozott fiának, máskor hatalmas ünnepséget rendezett neki. Emellett Köszem rendszeresen fejezte ki aggodalmát Murad egészségével kapcsolatban, ami arra enged következtetni, hogy talán Murad már ekkor egészségügyi problémákkal küzdött.

A birodalom Ahmed halálától kezdve fokozatosan süllyedt anarchiába. Több fontos területet is elveszítettek és hiába próbálták visszahódítani ezeket, nem jártak sikerrel. Továbbá a II. Oszmán kivégzése után fellázadó Abaza Mehmed Pasa dacára annak, hogy mindenkit felelősségre vontak a gyilkosságért, nem volt hajlandó elismerni Muradot új uralkodójaként és folytatta a lázadást. Ezt a lázadást sem sikerült leverni az ellene kiküldött pasáknak. A helyzetet fokozandó, 1625-ben pestis tört ki a fővárosban és több, mint százezer áldozattal járt. Murad először szintén ebben az évben lázadt anyja szava ellen. Köszem ekkor kötött egy megállapodást a spanyolokkal, Muradnak azonban nem tetszett az egyezség, ezért azonnal visszahívatta azt.

1628-ban aztán Murad is súlyos beteg lett, hetekig feküdt ágyban. Pontos betegsége nem derült ki, egyesek szerint ekkor kezdődött epilepsziája, mások szerint emésztőrendszeri problémái voltak. Öröm volt az ürömben, hogy legalább ebben az évben sikerült leverni Abaza Mehmed Pasa lázadását és elfogni a férfit. Ugyanebben az évben Murad újabb jelét adta annak, hogy hamarosan át kívánja venni az uralkodást és nyíltan szembe ment anyjával, amikor felbontotta nővére Fatma házasságát az admirális Çatalcalı Haşan Pasával, akit anyja kiemelt figyelemben részesített. Emellett Muradot egyre jobbn zavarta, hogy anyja szemethuny a korrupció felett. Köszem maga is nagy előnyökhöz juttatta az általa favorizált pasákat, ami sokakból váltott ki ellenérzéseket, különösen fiából, Muradból. Így került például fontos janicsár pozícióba Murad nővérének, Fatma szultánának az új férje, Hafiz Ahmed Pasa. Ez azonban a szpáhiknak és a Köszemet szerető janicsároknak is sok volt. Végül ez volt az az esemény, mely kijelölte Murad egyeduralmának kezdetét.

Az egyeduralkodó

1632-ben, Hafiz Ahmed Pasa kinevezése után szpáhi és janicsár lázadás tört ki, melynek során a lázadók kivégezték a nagyvezírt és Murad szultán több hűséges emberét, többet között közeli barátját, Musa Çelebit. Hogy a helyzet tovább bonyolódjon a katonák nyilvánosan követelték, hogy Murad mutassa meg nekik öccseit. Ezzel jelezni akarták neki, hogy ha akarnák le tudnák cserélni valamelyik öccsére; másrészt pedig keringtek olyan alaptalan pletykák, hogy Murad és Köszem megszabadultak a hercegektől. Murad kénytelen volt engedni a követeléseknek és bemutatta öccseit, akiket a katonák ekkor éltetni kezdtek. Murad ezt sosem felejtette el és sosem bocsátotta meg sem a lázadóknak, sem testvéreinek. Muradot tulajdonképpen ekkor mérhetetlenül megalázták, szövetségeseit, közeli barátját meggyilkolták. Ezt egy uralkodó sem hagyhatta. Murad azonban volt annyira megfontolt és intelligens, hogy nem azonnal kezdett bosszúhadjáratba, hanem csak akkor végeztette ki a hangadókat, mikor néhány hónap múlva hatalmát sikerült megszilárdítani.

Akárhogyan is, a lázadás után 1632 májusában Murad saját kezébe vette az irányítást és lemondatta édesanyját a régensi pozícióból. Köszem nem ellenkezett, félreállt, azonban igyekezett volna segíteni fiát, utat mutatni neki. Murad ezt nem értékelte és nem hallgatott édesanyja tanácsaira. Murad kényszeresen igyekezett anyját távol tartani a politikától és cselekedeteiből egyértelműen kiolvasható, hogy zavarta őt anyja nagy befolyása, az, hogy az elmúlt években sokkal nagyobb hatalma volt anyjának, mint neki. Épp ezért, amint a hatalmat saját irányítása alá vonta, Murad igyekezett anyja embereit - így például saját sógorát, a már említett Hafiz Ahmed Pasát - sorra leváltani, hogy édesanyja befolyása alól kivonva magát, elkezdhesse egyeduralmát.

Bár Köszem és Murad viszonyát kétségkívül megbélyegezte az 1632-es lázadás, hiba lenne azt gondolni, hogy Murad teljesen kizárta életéből édesanyját. Annak hárem vezetői tisztségét és édesanya mivoltát mindig tiszteletben tartotta, sőt egy 1632-ből származó beszámoló szerint kifejezetten fontos volt neki anyja véleménye a magánéletét illetően. Knolles ugyanis arról számolt ekkor be, hogy Murad hetekik lányának születése után feleségül akarta venni (vagy inkább Haszeki rangra emelni) a gyermek anyját, hogy kifejezze szeretetét a nő irányába, de mielőtt ezt megtette volna, kikérte Köszem véleményét. Érdekes kérdés, hogy ki volt ez a nő, ugyanis Murad korai uralkodásából egyetlen kiemelt státuszú ágyast ismerünk, Haszeki Ayşe szultánát, azonban nem tudjuk pontosan, kik voltak a gyermekei és mikor születtek.

Emellett mikor Murad hosszabb rövidebb időre elhagyta a fővárost, mindig anyját hagyta meg felügyelőnek, Köszem pedig mindig mindenről pontosan beszámolt fiának. Amikor Köszem problémát észlelt, azonnal jelezte azt a legrészletesebb leírással Murad számára. Előbbire egy konkrét példa történt 1634-ben, amikor Murad távollétében Köszem arról értesült, hogy egy müfti nem fogadta el Murad egyik döntését és felül akarta azt bírálni. Azonnal üzenetet küldött fiának "Én harcos oroszlán fiam, gyere azonnal! Pletykák terjednek a trónoddal kapcsolatban, az emberek pedig mozgolódnak." Muradnak nem kellett több, azonnal visszatért és minden vizsgálat nélkül kivégezte a müftit. Ez volt az első ilyen esemény a birodalom történetében, korábban sosem végeztek ki müftit. Egy másik alkalommal Murad Köszemet bízta meg, hogy diplomáciai megbeszéléseket folytasson a Krími Kánsággal.

A zsarnok

Murad személyisége nagyon megosztó. Sokan egyszerűen zsarnoknak tartják, azonban több volt ennél. Sokszor kegyetlen cselekedetei minden bizonnyal nehéz gyermekkorából származnak és a trónfosztástól való rettegéséből. Rengeteg legenda ismert, miszerint élvezettel gyilkolt embereket és sokszor ártatlanul kínozta őket, de olyanokat is hallani, hogy a szultán éjszaka kivont karddal rohangált az utcákon és megölt bárkit aki szembe jött vele. Ilyen formában ezek természetesen nagyon erős túlzások, ám tény, hogy sok olyan cselekedete volt, melyek nem tették különösebben népszerűvé. Köszem szultána igyekezett minden létező módon hatni fiára és saját jótékonykodásaival próbálta tompítani fia agresszív cselekedeteit.

Murad megtiltotta az alkohol és dohány fogyasztását, sőt minden kávézót bezáratott, mert szerinte a janicsárok és szpáhik itt gyülekeztek és szövetkeztek ellene. Aki pedig megszegte a szabályokat, súlyos büntetésre számíthatott, akár halálbüntetésre is. Hogy parancsait betartassa gyakran ment utcára álruhában és lépett fel a rendeletet megszegőkkel szemben személyesen. Ám az is tény, hogy ha ekkor igazságtalanságot vagy elkeserítő dolgot tapasztalt, az ellen is igyekezett tenni. Emellett sokat változtatott az alapvető törvényeken is, a büntetéseket megszigorította, gyakoribbá vált a halálbüntetés kisebb vétségek esetében is. A legendák megemlékeznek egy esetről, amikor egy vezírt végeztetett ki, amiért az megverte saját anyósát. Máskor pedig egy követet, Alvise Contarinit záratta börtönbe egy jelentéktelen bűnért. Contarini beszámolói ezen eset után megbízhatatlanná váltak, ugyanis gyakran írt hazugságokat, túlzásokat Muradról, személyes ellenérzései miatt. Ilyen volt például, mikor Contarini arról számolt be, hogy Murad ütlegeléssel fenyegeti rendszersen anyját, testvéreit és ágyasait. Azonban minden más bizonyíték épp az ellenkezőjéről számol be, így emögött a beszámoló mögött valószínűleg Contarini ellenszenve lehetett az egyetlen ok.

Bár kétségtelen, hogy Murad szigora túlzó volt, ennek köszönhetően sikerült rendbe szednie a birodalmat, a káosz és anarchia ténylegesen megoldódni látszott. Murad olyan kaotikus idők után ült a trónon, mikor a szultánokat kevésbé tisztelte a nép, mint régen. I. Szulejmán idejében a szultán szinte istenség volt, egy elérhetetlen, felsőbbrendű teremtmény. Egy szultánnak pedig, hogy uralhasson egy ekkora birodalmat fenn is kellett tartani ezt a látszatot. Az I. Ahmed halála után bekövetkező káoszban, mikor a nép Oszmán példáján meglátta, hogy a szultán igenis halandó, egyszerű ember, lerombolódott az évszázadok alatt felépített isteni kép. Murad ezt igyekezett újjáépíteni. Amikor ez szép szóval nem ment, akkor erőszakkal és szigorral tette, de rendet teremtett az országába.

Nem is meglepő ez tudva, hogy Murad példaképének I. Yavuz Szelimet tartotta, aki vasszigorral irányított, nem tűrte az ellentmondást. Murad - tanítója elméletét követve - úgy vélte, hogy a birodalom hanyatlása Szulejmán uralkodása alatt kezdődött, emiatt egyértelműen egy korábbi sikeres szultánt kellett imitálni. Emellett Muradnak nem titkolt célja volt a régi öröklési rend visszahozása is. Bár saját életét a törvény változásának köszönehtte, ő mégis úgy vélte, túl sok veszélyt tartogat magában, ha a szultánnak vele nagyjából egy idős vetélytársai vannak. Bár sokan egyértelműen elítélik ezért, be kell lássuk, volt igazság ebben. Oszmán brutális kivégzése, Musztafa bábként rángatása mind jól példázza, hogy a szultánok egyeduralma és kiemelt státusza megszűnt azzal, hogy hozzájuk hasonló vetélytársaik voltak és azzal, hogy elkezdtek érző lényeknek tűnni. Murad saját fiát akarta maga után a trónon látni, emiatt végeztette ki idővel öccseit, kivéve a mentálisan sérült Ibrahimot. Ez egyébként felvet több kérdést is, különös tekintettel Murad fiaira.

Murad gyermekeivel kapcsolatban elég sok a kérdőjel. Evliya Çelebi beszámolóiból tudjuk, hogy Muradnak rengeteg fia született, ám szinte kivétel nélkül mind elhunyt csecsemő korában, ugyanis meglehetősen rossz egészséggel jöttek világra. Sajnos legtöbb gyermeke esetében nem tudjuk, hogy mikor hunytak el. Annyi bizonyos, hogy 1634-ben egy követi beszámoló szerint két gyenge egészségű csecsemő fia volt. Azonban ezek ellenére is azt kell feltételezzük, hogy mikor Murad kivégeztette testvéreit (1635, 1638) legalább egy élő fia kellett, hogy legyen, aki nem csecsemő volt már. Legidősebb fia, Ahmed 1627-ben született és sokak szerint ő élt legtovább, igaz pontos dátum nem áll rendelekzésre halálát illetően. Vannak olyanok is, akik szerint Muradnak nem volt idősebb élő fia ekkoriban, egyszerűen csak a dinasztia végét akarta, ezért ölette meg testvéreit. Ezutóbbit alátámasztja a tény, hogy I. Ibrahim trónralépésekor Muradnak nem volt már élő fia, így talán Murad utolsó éveiben sem élt már egyikük sem. Azonban ez nem jelenti azt, hogy 1635-ben és 1638-ban sem volt már élő fia. Annyit tudunk 1637-ből egy követi beszámoló alapján, hogy Murad legalább 6 fia még egy éves kora előtt meghalt, a többiek egészsége pedig nagyon törékeny. Ám nem tudjuk, hogy a szerző mit és hány gyermeket értett a többiek alatt.

A magánember

Szultánként Muradot a legnagyobb jóindulattal is kénytelenek vagyunk valamilyen módon zsarnoknak tartani, hiszen rendeletei és sokszor a bűn mértékével nem egyensúlyban lévő büntetései erre utalnak. Ugyanakkor Evliya Çelebi leírásaiból igen sok minden tárul fel Muradról az emberről. Ezek alapján olyabá tűnik, hogy a kegyetlen Murad csupán egy álarc volt, ami mögé valódi természetét rejtette a szultán. Murad úgy vélte, hogy csak akkor tiszteli népe és katonái, ha félnek tőle. Minden cselekedete erre utal, így talán emiatt játszotta ezt a szerepet. Természetesen valódi személyiségétől sem állhatott nagyon távol ez, hiszen máskülönben nem tudta volna végrehajtani kegyetlenségeit.

Mit tudunk azonban mégis Muradról az emberről? Többek szerint rendkívül intelligens, művelt férfi volt, akinek igen jó volt a humora és tehetséges költő is volt. Evliya szerint "egy császár ő, lelkében egy dervis természetével." Utóbbi hasonlat különösen illő lehetett Muradhoz, mert nagyon tisztelte és elismerte a kerengő derviseket. Olyannyira, hogy egy Ömer nevű dervist az "apám" megszólítással tisztelt meg. Ömerrel egyébként gyakran szereztek zenét együtt. Murad a szöveget írta meg, a dervis pedig a dallamot adta hozzá. Azt pedig biztosan tudjuk, hogy a pletykákkal ellentétben, Murad nem volt őrült. Bizonyos szintű paranoia jellemezte ugyan, de ez figyelmebe véve a korábban vele történteket, azt, hogy első kézből tapasztalta bátyja halálát, majd féltestvére brutális meggyilkolását, nem különösebben meglepő. Azonban azon emberek között, akiket szeretett és akikben bízott Murad kivirágzott és megmutatta valódi arcát. Az igazi Murad egy ereje teljében lévő fiatal férfi volt, akivel a legszemélyesebb dolgokkal is lehetett humorizálni, akivel egyszerre lehetett mulatni és komoly dolgokról társalogni. Azt azonban Evliya sem vonta kétségbe, hogy Murad igen önfejű és hirtelen haragú ember volt, különösen anyjával szemben.

Szintén Evliyához köthető egy híres (vagy hírhedt) történet is, mely alapján sokan tartják napjainkban homoszexuálisnak a szultánt. Evliya történetének lényege, hogy egy gyönyörű személyről, Handanról beszélgettek a szultánnal, akit a szultán szeret és aki Evliya szerint is igazán elragadó. A történet szerint a szultán megkérte Handant, hogy a hajából vegyen ki egy rózsát és adja Evliyának, hogy ezzel felvidítsa a rosszkedvű Evliyát. A történetben alapvetően nem lenne semmi különös, ha mindez egy nyugati birodalomban történik. Ismerve a birodalom szokásait azonban egyértelművé válik számunkra, hogy Handan nem lehetett egy nő, hiszen egy háremhölgy nem tartózkodhatott idegen férfiak társaságában, különösen nem fedetlen hajjal. Emellett nehezíti Handan pontos felismerését, hogy a Handan egy uniszex név és hogy az oszmán nyelvben nincs férfi és női nem. Emiatt sokan gondolják, hogy Handan egy eunuch vagy egy fiatal férfi volt.Fontos tudnunk, hogy az Oszmán Birodalomban az 1800-as évek közepéig a homoszexualitás elfogadott volt, nem volt büntetendő. A legtöbb bordélyban (mert ezek is voltak a birodalomban) nem csak nők, de férfiak is elérhetőek voltak. Emellett II. Mehmed szultán óta a pederasztia elfogadott volt a szultánok és pasák között. Ezt az ókori görög hagyományt, mely egy felnőtt férfi és egy nála jóval fiatalabb férfi közti homoszexuális kapcsolatot jelenti, II. Mehmed (aki valósznűleg tényleg meleg vagy biszexuális volt) vette át, Konstantinápoly elfoglalása után. Később volt olyan szultán, mely élt ezzel a lehetőséggel és voltak akik nem. Azonban a pederasztia elsődlegesen inkább státuszszimbólum volt, mint szexuális vágy által hajtott kapcsolat.

Sokan pletykálták azt is, hogy Köszem szultána gyermekkora óta férfiakat küldött Murad ágyába, azonban semmi nem utal arra, hogy ez igaz lenne. Akárhogy is, Murad szexuális orientációja valószínűleg sosem fog kiderül és talán nem is számít. Életében két jelentős ágyas volt, Ayşe Haszeki, aki uralkodását szinte végig dominálta és aki Esmehan Kaya mellett bizonyára több gyermek édesanyja is volt; és egy másik nő, akinek nevét nem sikerült rekonstruálni és aki Murad utolsó éveiben került mellé és lett Haszeki. Ayşe volt azonban Murad kedvence minden bizonnyal uralma alatt végig, hiszen a nőt még revani hadjáratára is magával vitte. Ez a korai szultánok esetében előfordult, ám évszázadok óta nem éltek a hagyománnyal, hiszen megleehtősen kockázatos volt.

Zsarnokból az imádott szultán

Murad elődeihez hasonlóan tisztában volt azzal, hogy a leggyorsabb út a népszerűséghez egy sikeres hadjárat. Muradon különösen nagy volt a nyomás, ugyanis az ő uralkodása elején veszítettek el kifejezetten fontos területeket, így valahogy helyre kellett hoznia ezt. Murad igazán harcos természetű férfi volt, emellett fizikai teljesítményeiről is legendák szólnak. Igaz, hogy egészsége nem volt túl jó, de nagyon erős fizikummal bírt. Magas volt, robosztus alkatú, fekete hajú és szemű férfi, halvány bőrrel. Murad amellett tehát, hogy jóképű volt fizikai erejével is rendszeresen tudta lenyűgözni alattvalóit. Legendák keringenek íjakról, melyet rajta kívül senki sem tudott kifeszíteni vagy buzogányokról, melyeket senki nem tudott meglendíteni, csak ő. Evliya szerint a szultán gyakran egyik percről a másikra ledobta ruháit és birkózni kezdett egy éppen a közelben lévő őrrel. Más alkalmakkal a szultán egyszerűen felemelte Evliyát minden különösebb erőfeszítés nélkül a feje fölé. Egy ilyen fitt, és termetéhez képest meglehetősen mozgékony szultánhoz remekül illett a háborúskodás. És egy ilyen szultán végre el tudta hitetni alattvalóival és katonáival, hogy vele megnyerhetik a háborút!

Miután uralkodásának első felében több pasát is küldtek, hogy visszaszerezze az elvesztett területeket, ám minden kísérlet kudarccal végződött, Murad úgy döntött személyesen indul hadjáratra. Első hadjáratára 1635-ben került sor, a cél pedig Yerevan (Revan) visszahódítása volt. Tavasszal indultak Üsküdarból és bár útközben gyakran megálltak, hogy Anatoliában leszámoljanak kisebb bandákkal vagy kivégezzék azokat, akik ellen sok panasz volt, júliusra el is érték Yerevant. Nagyjából egy hét ostrom után, augusztus 8-án a kastélyt uraló helytartó, Mirgune Tahmasp Quli Khan feladta a várat és megadta magát. Murad értékelte, hogy Mirgune Tahmasp Quli Khan elfogadta őt új uralkodójának és mély barátság alakult ki köztük. A férfi új neve, Emirgün lett és a szultán kegyeltjeként haláláig mellette volt. Egyesek szerint Emirgün volt az, akinek hatására Murad egyre gyakrabban kezdett alkoholt fogyasztani.

A győzelem után Murad Tabrizbe ment a csapataival, azonban a várost nem tudták megtartani, ráadásul Murad is beteg lett, így telelni Van-ba utaztak. Év végére pedig visszaérkeztek Isztambulba, ahol Köszem szultána hatalmas ünnepséggel várta fiát. Az egész város Murad győzelmét ünnepelte és éltette a szultánt. Murad azonnal elrendelte egy pavilon építését a Topkapi Palotán belül a győzelem tiszteletére. Ez lett később a Revan Pavilon. Murad minden lépését okosan megtervezte és mindig akkor cselekedett, amikor a körülmények megfelelőek voltak. Így tett akkor is, mikor leszámolt az 1632-es lázadás hangadóival és így tett akkor is, amikor féltestvéreitől, a rá hatalmas veszélyt jelentő Bayezidtől és Szulejmántól kívánt megszabadulni. Murad tudta, hogy a testvérgyilkosság nincs a nép kedvére, tudta, hogy egy szultán könnyen belebukhat ebbe, azonban mindenképpen véghez akarta vinni terveit és vissza akarta hozni az apáról fiúra szálló trónöröklést. Ezért abban a pillanatban adta parancsba a két herceg kivégzését, amikor népszerűsége a legmagasabb volt és az egész birodalom győzelmét ünnepelte. Bár a két herceg kivégzése természetesen megdöbbentette az embereket, mindenki el volt foglalva a győzelemmel, a fellendült gazdasággal, így nem fordultak Murad ellen.

Murad népszerűségét az sem igazán csökkentette, hogy következő év tavaszán a szafavidák visszafoglalták Yerevánt. Természetesen esze ágában sem volt elfogadni ezt, de ismét kivárta a legalkalmasabb pillanatot. Ez végül 1638 tavaszán jött el. Ezúttal nem elégedett meg Yerevannal, Bagdadot tűzte ki céljául. Október végére el is érte Bagdadot és letáborozott a város köré és megkezdte az ostromot. December 24-én Bektash Khan, Bagdad kormányzója megadta magát, így januárban Murad beléphetett végre a hőn áhított városba, úgy mint nagynevű elődje, I. Szulejmán is tette 100 évvel ezelőtt (1534-ben). Bagdadban Murad elrendelte, hogy javíttassák meg és újítsák fel a korábban Szulejmán által építtetett mauzóleumot.

Murad bár erős fizikummal bírt, egészsége sosem volt jó, a rémes tábori körülmények pedig tovább rontottak állapotán. Különös tekintettel arra, hogy legtöbbször katonáival együtt edzett, sok időt töltött velük, hogy ezzel nyerje meg támogatásukat. Súlyosbodó alkoholizmusa szintén nem segítette a helyzetet. Diyarbekirben végül olyan rosszul lett a szultán, hogy hónapokig kellett ott állomásozniuk mielőtt Isztambulba érhettek volna. Amíg Murad a betegágyat nyomta, nagyvezíre Tayyar Mehmed Pasa egyezséget kötött a perzsa sahhal, hogy lezárják végre az 1603 óta tartó háborút, és visszaállították az 1555-ben kötött Amaszia egyezményt, így a két ország között helyreállt a béke, Bagdadot pedig az Oszmán Birodalom megtarthatta.

Júniusban, Isztambulba visszatérve újra hatalmas ünneplés fogadta a szultánt, mindenki dicsőítette. Szokásához híven ezen győzelmét is pavilon építéssel igyekezett megkoronázni, így megépíttette a Bagdad Pavilont. Sajnos más szokását is igyekezett megtartani, így édesöccsét, Kasim herceget (és talán vele együtt Ibrahim herceget is) a Revan Pavilonba kérette, ahol Kasim herceget kivégeztette, Ibrahim életét pedig egyesek szerint csak Köszem szultána könyörgése és fenyegetőzése mentette meg. Mások szerint Ibrahimot nem is akarta kivégeztetni Murad. Kasim kivégzése különösen jelentős volt, ugyanis a két korábban kivégzett herceggel ellentétben Kasim édestestvére volt Muradnak és korabeli beszámolók alapján még közel is álltak egymáshoz. Muradon ekkorra kezdett elhatalmasodni betegsége, alkoholizmusa és paranoiája.

Halála és hagyatéka

Murad Isztambulba való visszatérése után nagyon rossz egészségi állapotban volt, hónapokon keresztül nyomta az ágyat. Több alapbetegsége is volt, azonban ezekről nem tudunk sokat. Egyesek szerint epilepsziás lehetett, mások szerint neki is hasonló emésztőrendszeri problémái lehettek, mint apjának (I. Ahmed) és nagyanyjának (Handan szultána). Ezeket tovább súlyosbították a harci sérülések, hiszen Murad maga is harcolt a hadjáratain; valamint az alkoholizmusa miatt kialakuló májzsugor.

Murad harci sérüléseiből képes volt felépülni, ugyanis 1640 elején a Ramadánt minden gond nélkül ünnepelte, találkozott a vezíreivel, rendezvényeken vett részt. Sőt, hogy tovább fárassza beteg testét rendszeresen járt lovagolni és alkoholizálni barátaihoz. Egyik ilyen alkalommal Murad elvesztette az eszméletét és testőrei vitték vissza a Topkapi Palotába. A szultán néha magához tért, úgy tűnik ekkor már tudta, hogy haldoklik. Külön kérésére vitték át a Revan Pavilonba, ahol néhány hónappal korábban öccsét végeztette ki. Talán épp emiatt akart ő is ott meghalni. Nem tudni, hogy kik voltak mellette utolsó perceiben, de valószínűleg édesanyját ha akarták volna sem tudták volna távol tartani. Egyesek szerint halálos ágyán Murad kiadta a parancsot Ibrahim kivégzésére is, ám erre nincs bizonyíték.

Murad temetésére hatalmas tömeg gyűlt össze, koporsója előtt fekete lova sétált feldíszítve, a jelenlévők közül pedig többen hangosan zokogtak. Így tehát nem igaz, hogy a nép örült volna a szultán halálának. Bár Murad nem volt tökéletes, sok kegyetlen tettet vitt véghez, mégis évtizedek után ő volt az első hódító szultán és ő volt az, aki sikerrel állította vissza a birodalom békéjét, amiért a nép szerette őt. IV. Murad volt az utolsó igazi klasszikus értelemben vett hódító szultán, hiszen többé egyik szultán sem vezetett személyesen hadjáratot. Murad inkább hasonlított az 1500-as évek elején uralkodó I. Yavuz Szelimre vagy I. Szulejmánra, mint közvetlen elődeire. Így személye erős lezárást adott a hódítások korának és az Oszmán Birodalom fénykorának. Édesapja, I. Ahmed mauzóleumában helyezték örök nyugalomra, mivel rövid élete során nem volt alkalma saját mauzóleumot építtetni és sokak szerint nem is foglalkoztatta az építészet.

Felhasznált források: C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; L. Peirce - The imperial harem; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; F. Suraiya, K. Fleet - The Cambridge History of Turkey 1453-1603; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; : F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery; S. Faroqhi - Another Mirror for Princes, The Public Image of the Ottoman Sultans and Its Reception

#Murad IV #Kösem sultan #kösem #mahpeyker kösem #Ahmed I #ibrahim I #Osman II #Mustafa I #Ayse #haseki ayşe #sanavber #emirgün #fratricide #sehzade bayezid #sehzade kasim

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swellwriting · 5 years

Text

LOVER 4/18

- THE MAN -

Bucky x Reader/ The Winter Soldier x Reader

A/N: You do not need to be familiar with the song/ Album to read this!!!

Word Count: 2.3k Part 3 Series Masterlist Part 5

Warning: Mentions of injury and blood on the wrists that may be triggering to some. (though not intentionally, they are self-inflicted...handcuffs suck.) Also Sexual references but nothing major. The usual violence.

Summary: “You were tired of being handcuffed to a bed not allowed to leave, you hated being denied drugs and then sedated for hours on end. You wanted to have control again.”

Nat told Tony to stop holding back on your meds, and of course, he listened. Not exactly in the way she intended it to be done though. They kept you heavily sedated, unconscious for an entire day after your first “session” with Wanda.

When you finally came to you felt so groggy, you knew something was wrong. You ate the cold food placed beside your bed and decided then and there that you were going to put an end to these games, whatever Tony was playing with you. And if this meant never seeing Winter or Bucky again, you didn’t care. You were tired of being handcuffed to a bed and not allowed to leave, you hated being denied drugs and then sedated for hours on end. You wanted to have control again.

Before you were too weak to break out of your chains, but the poison has completely run its course so you take your bandage off to see your wound almost completely healed, there is a dark bruising around it and red angry lines in your skin. It will leave a scar but it fits in fine with all the others so you don't really care.

You push your bed tray onto the floor and twist the chains around your hands gripping them roughly and yanking hard on them. The handcuffs don't come free but you rip the metal bars on the sides of the hospital bed clean off, great.

You push your blankets down and all the metal junk clanks together like you’re a damn human wind chime. You push your feet against one of the metal bars and pull your hand away, the cuff digs into the skin of your wrist cutting the sides open and you try to ignore the pain since you can feel the chain weakening and then it snaps, metal clangs to the floor and you look up to see if anyone heard it and is coming.

If the nurse did hear she definitely would be running the opposite direction anyway.

You repeat your actions, place your feet on the other bar, push and pull, your other wrist gets cut open but you don't stop, you are so close, snap! The handcuffs and the bit of chain that was connecting them to the bed hang from your wrists but you are free, you feel free. As if the chains were weighing you down you feel light, at ease and it’s great, but you didn’t think this through.

What now? You look around the room and then get up and walk down the hall.

“I just don’t trust her, she seems wrong. Not that you can ever really trust a woman,” Tony jokes as him Sam and Steve are standing in the hallway outside the medical ward.

“So if I was a man, you could trust me?” You ask as you lean against the wall, the chains and cuffs hang broken from your wrists covered in blood from the cuts they left, blood drips down your arm and onto the floor where you riped your IV out.

“Not particularly,” Tony says and looks you down head to toe admiring your handiwork. “I take it you’re feeling better, why don't you go back and lie down,” he says and it’s so condescending you can’t help the eye roll that comes by instinct.

“I'm tired of being told what to do, of being held a prisoner even though I have done nothing wrong.” You argue.

“You say that with a lot of confidence,” Sams asks, knowing your ledger is just as red as Bucky and Nats.

“I've never done anything wrong to you guys.”

“Spring!” Wanda says, walking into the hallway seemingly the only person concerned about your bloody hands and the trail on the floor behind you, “what did you do?”

You hold up your bloody hands and shrug, aware that there wasn’t really any explaining you could do. Bruce walks down the hallways and is quick to act.

“What the f-,” he stops and wraps his hands around your wrists gently, stopping the blood flow and then walks you backwards down the hallway back to your room, glaring at Tony the entire way. This was his fault in Bruce’s eyes, he told Tony that the handcuffs should have been removed days ago.

Bruce sits you down and Wanda removes the handcuffs with her powers and you thank her, but she isn’t happy with what you’ve done and you can tell on her face.

Bruce starts cleaning the wounds and stitching you up.

“I'm sure you don’t want to “talk” today,” Wanda asks, still unsure of what to call this thing you are doing, this treatment?

“No we can, I'm fine, was just tired of those cuffs, we can start now if you’d like.” You try to sound not so upset but you’re so tired of being treated the way you have been, of being told what to do, of being talked down to and treated differently. You remember the first time Hydra tried to treat you differently than Winter, and you remember the fit you threw to make sure it never happened again.

It’s what your mind goes to as you close your eyes, Wanda’s red glowing hands the last thing you see before the memories start like pressing a play button.

“Asset, you can’t go on this mission, It’s one for The Winter Soldier only, it’s too high stakes and you aren’t ready.” An unnamed officer explains to you as if you are too stupid to understand him. You are stood in one of the labs, having your blood drawn by a lab assistant to your left who seems nervous, looking over your face to see a reaction to being told no.

“Did Winter say that?” You ask.

“No, I did.” Strucker, the Head of your Hydra base among many others, said sternly and you went quiet. “You aren't as strong as him, you aren't as quick or skilled yet, we can’t afford to let this mission fail because we let some girl handle it.”

And something about the way he says that makes your blood boil with rage, like a kettle boiling over you are unable to contain your inner thoughts.

“So If I was a man I could go on the mission. If I was a big strong man I could handle this simple intel mission on my own. I'm so sick of being built up to be this big weapon for Hydra, your big threat only for you to ridicule me and limit me to missions that require seduction and tight dresses as if I couldn’t slit a man’s throat with pants on!”

The unnamed officer lets out a laugh and you give him a deadly glare before looking back to Strucker. He ignores you and you continue, you’ve said too much to take it back so you might as well vent.

“I'm so sick of running as fast as I can and trying to learn everything as fast as I can, perfecting my skills, proving I can be better than Winter in some things. Now I’m left to wonder If I could be Hydra’s number 1 soldier if only I was a man since that seems to be all that’s holding me back!” You yell which startles the lab assistant who is quickly finishing up taking your blood sample, removing the needle and then backing away to the safety of his desk.

“Perhaps you’d be number one if you weren’t sleeping with your coworkers,” the officer jokes, clearly referring to you and Winter even if they aren't certain of what’s going on.

“Yes because that would be a total one-sided thing, I should be punished for seducing him, yet he shouldn’t get reprimanded at all for fucking me as if it would be a one-person job that I’m doing all by myself!” You say with vigour, hatred laced in your voice for the officer. You don't know his name but he is quickly becoming the person you hate most, and that says a lot since you are in a room with Strucker.

“Well if it is a two-man job you just let me know.” The officer says and it would sound like a joke but the look in his eyes tells you it’s everything but, a threat he wishes he could hold up to. He leans in close as he unties the rubber band from your arm, touching your skin with grabby fingers, putting his face all too close to yours.

Perhaps it’s because you know they see you as just a woman who can’t control her emotions, they paint you up to be so bad, a hostile and reckless killing machine but they don't trust you. So in your mind, it’s okay that you’re mad, that you’re fed up and you’ve had enough.

You want to be taken seriously but everything that’s been wired into your brain says there is only one way to show that. So before he can even finish laughing to himself at his own joke, or before he can imagine fucking you in his head you put an end to his thoughts altogether. You close the distance between you in seconds and tackle him to the ground.

“Oh if I was a man, then id be The Man.” You say as you spit in his face. Strucker, the head of Hydra stands there and watches, not stopping you, wanting to see the weapon he created in action. You grab your knife from your thigh holster and slit his throat wide open deep. There’s so much blood that your hand is dripping wet before you pull it away. There is blood splattered on your face and in your hair, your knees are in the puddle that’s quickly growing and u smudge it across the floor and get up.

“Make sure your officers know their place, I am not below them. Number 2 on your list is still miles above them, I am no one’s toy or object. I do my job and I do it well, I deserve their respect!” You say with wild eyes, covered in blood, yet you don’t scare Strucker in the least.

“I’ll make sure they are aware, Asset Number 2,” he says your given name so boldly, to remind you that you may be no object of the officers, but you are his object, his asset and he is Hydra.

Just then Winter walks in completely confused by the scene in front of him, but he has to act like he doesn't care too much. He can’t let them know he is really in love with you. Sure they may be onto the fact that something is going on, especially after what the now dead and forever nameless officer said to you.

There is no harm in sexual relations between their top two soldiers. They aren't about to try to actively stop you, but they aren't going to openly allow it either. Soldiers, Assets they think you have no feelings, so there no harm in acting on basic human needs right? Who else did they think Winter would want to sleep with? Some lowly officer? A lab assistant? No, of course not, he chose the closest thing to his equal, or that’s how they see it anyway.

You walk past Winter without a word, you aren't mad at him. You want nothing more than to fall into his arms and cry and complain but you can’t do that here, can’t show weakness. So you walk down the hallway with your head held high. The officers and lab rats stare as you pass them, a bloody smeared smile on your face daring them to test you, showing them what happens when they cross a line with you.

Earning your respect, or maybe just fear.

“So what do you think, Soldier?” Strucker asks Winter, seemingly calm and uncaring to the whole event that just occurred.

“I'm not sure what you mean Sir?” Winter replies, standing up straight, monotone voice.

“I'm sure you can deduct what happened here, the officer on the floor pushed the other asset a little too far, made her mad and this is how she reacted. What do you think?”

“I think you made her into a weapon first, and then a soldier after. Which I don't think is a problem, just needs to be handled differently, and certainly, with a level of respect I had seen her not getting in the past.” Bucky answers clearly, trying to give a well-thought-out answer.

“I think you’re right,” Strucker says with a sickening smile as he picks up a phone and then calls some officers to the room to clean up the bloody mess.

Winter can’t help but smile inside, he should be angry that someone pushed you this far but he’s glad to know you’re standing up for yourself. He feels like he doesn't have to worry as much.

“That was nothing like what you showed me the other day,” Wanda says with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s just where my mind brought me.”

“I've seen worse, don't worry about me.”

Bruce is patching up your wrists still, eyes wide as he doesn't look up at you.

“Sorry Bruce, I should have waited until you were further away I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. Now I know not to piss you off,” he jokes, looking up at you with a lopsided smile.

“We have to agree not to piss each other off I guess?” You joke back and he chuckles, finishing patching you up.

Tony had left the floor before the memory started, so it wasn’t accidentally projected into his mind but Steve and Sam were still down the hall, just close enough to have to witness that.

“You were harsh earlier,” Steve says, concerned.

“Harsh? I was right and we just saw that. She’s not innocent!” Same argues.

“Are any of us really?”

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Part 5

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ilovehighhats · 5 years

Text

Reticulum, ch. 01

I’ve been sitting on this way too long...

John Brown wasn’t always John Brown.

For instance, he was born Ricardo Sanchez. Not too daunting a name. So, when he used to be a CIA operative he worked under several aliases: Tim Perkins, Paul Schwartz, Karim Sayif.

He considered himself a patriot. That’s why after Joker’s attacks on Gotham he felt the need to do more. Being one of the dozens of unimportant agents, stationed in an unimportant country, tracking as it ultimately turned out insignificant people… That wasn’t enough. He wanted to be someone who could do things really ensuring the safety of his compatriots - both domestic and abroad.

This is how he ended in DHS. The Department of Homeland Security, still shiny and new and building up its ranks. Brown fit right in, with other idealistic hotheads and solemn gruff men.

Bane’s siege of Gotham was the event that shook him to his core again. All those unimportant people he used to trace, suddenly were way more threatening than he could ever imagine. Led by one of the goons who, back in his CIA days, seemed trivial and inferior. Who names himself Bane? Is every third-country warlord or a mercenary worth the hassle of a laborious operation prepared to infiltrate his organisation? When there are coups, civil wars, genocides and other atrocities, all around?

James used to think of those people as lesser men. He read an account once, of a woman kidnapped, abused, tortured until she didn’t even resent her abductor and it only solidified this conclusion. Animals. There were exceptions, there were reasons and explanations, but ultimately he didn’t care. Not unless they were big names with prospects of big promotion attached to their file.

Bane was one of those unimportant meagre mercenaries to him.

That is, until League of shadows, under his command, invaded his country.

He found all the faults and flaws of his understanding of the importance of marked targets. He learned how dangerous a mass of anonymous savages could be when led by a madman. The worst part was, he encountered Bane before and thought him ridiculous and inconsequential.

He was there for his colleagues whining over a witness who apparently suffered a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. But neither them, nor their superiors felt the need to waste their time and resources on some hired gun working in forgotten parts of the world. After all, there were coups, civil wars, genocides and other atrocities to be taken care of...

But then the forgotten came to their home and mangled its shiny city. Gotham was in ruins. Saved in the last minute by a vigilante, no less. The animals who Brown hunted down held the entire nation hostage and the government danced to their tune, scorned and shamed by the world. Their president, a figure of contempt between the leaders, thrust down from his pedestal of the leader of a free world.

Some leader, with a foreign terrorist cell right in the middle of his lands, occupying a city, gambling with millions of lives. For months. To all those atrocities that were happening beyond blown up bridges, the country sends only one group of operatives. And they were unsuccessful, their lifeless bodies hanging for all to see, displayed as yet another mockery, right in their face.

Batman’s rescue of Gotham was a fluke. Brown promised to himself he would never let a criminal seem too unimportant to catch.

And he’d start his penance with making sure his biggest mistake was really dead and buried.

oOo

There was no body.

Brown read through all of the reports on Bane and his activities during the siege. The last day he has seen people reported him fighting the police and Batman, an old-fashioned brawl on the steps of City Hall. Stupid. Bane was not a stupid animal, he was cunning, so why did he go along with that pitiful last stand of Gotham's finest? Why did he lose control of his city? Where did he go?

There weren’t many leads in his investigation, most of them have been thoroughly followed by his predecessors who took Bane more seriously. Like Bill. Until recently no one knew that Bane was the one responsible for Bill Wilson's death, that he orchestrated the crash of the plane in Uzbekistan, he faked Pavel’s death. The mercenary must have known of Wilson's obsession with him, and he used it to his advantage, killing two birds with one stone. Now, Brown was left with boxes of information that was carefully and systematically checked.

There was one nugget of possibility left, though.

The scribe, the one who was abducted by Bane and then left in a hospital in Armenian countryside. A very unusual thing to do for any kidnapper, and especially for someone as meticulous and organised as Bane. Brown read her files over and over again, and he saw all the blunders his fellow agents did. How they let her lie blatantly to their faces. How they misplaced tapes and left him only with copies of transcripts, old and faded. How they left big unanswered holes in her testimony. How no one followed up on the facts, she did provide.

He used up his vacation days to visit the hospital and the doctor who treated her. He found the monastery.

No leads were left there.

The doctor wasn’t eager to cooperate, and Brown did not have any means of making him talk. The monastery was inhabited by monks, and they didn’t let him walk around and check the rooms he read about.

This was a wild goose chase. The only foothold he had was the scribe. So he went to talk with the woman herself.

Norway was beautiful. He fell in love with deep sky over his head, the rolling clouds and tempestuous see in harmony even though they were ever changing. It was damn expensive though, and he wondered how a scribe could afford a stated of the art house out in the country, in what looked like a very prosperous place. Granted, the cottage wasn’t very big, but it was very obviously new and packed with all amenities, and to top it off designed by someone minimalistic and practical.

In other words, it must have cost a fortune, and not a small one.

He parked his car way down and had a nice stroll first on the tarmac road, and then up some steps. Broad wooden planks were first, then the path wound down to flat stones, and the entryway was hidden between a wall of natural rock and the glass panel of the house itself. Hidden from view, secluded and cosy.

He knocked and heard a faint woman's voice reply,

“Come in!”

The door opened easily, and he tentatively peeked inside.

“Mrs Wolf?”

There was a murmur of fabric somewhere to his left, and he stepped in to get a better look. His host was in bed, weirdly raised way above the level of the house, clearly waiting for someone else than him.

Awkward.

She had a coughing fit which let Brown look around the house undisturbed. It looked like she was alone.

“Who are you?” She wheezed out eventually. “I was actually waiting for a friend to pick me up, I don't have much time before my visit to the doctors.”

“I see. My name is Brown. I'm with Homeland Security.“ He tried to be as pleasant as possible. This was his only lead.

The woman scoffed.

“Homeland,“ she practically spat. “Wouldn’t it be easier to understand if you said you’re with US Government?”

“Perhaps,” he said to placate her. He read the reports by other agencies and knew that she could be openly hostile. “I was wondering if we could have a talk. When you get better, of course.”

“Concerning what?”

“Bane.”

He observed as her face solidified into a stagnant mask. Was this trauma of the abduction, or was she hiding something else?

“Why would you want to talk with me about a dead man?”

“A missing man,” he corrected.

“Why would you want to talk with me about a missing man then?”

This was too much to be just a reflexive reaction to having her peace disturbed. She was hiding something. She knew something.

“I think you are a person he might want to contact.” The try was a gamble. It was true, and he did think that Bane could contact her, however, he left his cards too exposed if she was a seasoned liar and manipulator.

“He didn't through last ten years. I'll let you know if he changes his mind. Leave a card on the stairs please.” The dismissal was plain to see.

He wanted to try one more time to placate her. He could work the information out.

But then the door at the front of the cottage opened, glass panels sliding without effort, and in came a tall man. Like he was at home here.

“Helena,“ he greeted the host but kept his eyes firmly on Brown.

He came through the terrace. Thick scarf peeked out from a navy blue jacket, jeans were tucked in big brown boots, messenger bag hanging off one shoulder. He looked harmless enough, especially when he moved, wobbling carefully closer, the pain of every step visible in a rigid way he held himself.

But there was something off. His eyes were too sharp. Too familiar.

“We should go soon,“ he said. Nodded at Brown. “Tony Dorrance.“

“John Brown.”

Neither offered a hand to shake, but they kept observing each other.

What was it about this guy?

“You better go,” Dorrance said. His voice had an edge to it, a glimmer of certainty and command that was not meshing well with the image of a tired scholar.

The woman had another coughing fit, so Brown just nodded and left.

He would try to contact the woman again, and until then he will be mulling over that man. Who was he exactly?

oOo

Anthony Dorrance was an interesting man.

He was the person Helena Wolf talked about when she rambled on to him about her precious friend left to die in Gotham. Did she really believe what she said? Was she delusional?

Did Dorrance was such masterful manipulator he could pretend to be two people at the same time?

Brown started the work on him the usual way. Databases had the most rudimentary info; DOB, education, some jobs, some things he wrote. But it got interesting when he got to the pictures. The scars hinted at life way more interesting than the one portrayed in his files.

So he started working the man backwards.

He was in Norway for only a few weeks. Arrived with a plane from London. Both cottages were his, acquired a few years prior, so that wasn't suspicious in the least. What was, however, was how he got them. It turned out that the guy was not only a talented physicist but also a historian. Dealing with antiquities; old books and manuscripts mostly.

Suspicious.

Brown tried to trace his moves before London, and there he struck gold. The guy appeared in Azores two months after Gotham. But prior to that? A big black mysterious hole. He was in Gotham until May the previous year, but there was no movement in the months leading to the occupation of the city.

Was he there?

His name was on the list of suspected victims, struck down when he reported back to the British consulate on San Miguel.

How did he get from a besieged city to an archipelago in the middle of the Atlantic? And no less than five weeks after the occupation was thwarted? Why? Why didn’t he report to the authorities in the USA? Why wasn’t there any mentions of him crossing the border before the Azores?

Very suspicious.

Brown tracked Dorrance’s history backwards all the way down to his birth, but it didn’t yield much good.

He turned back to the Gotham episode. He turned up the photos and compared.

Did his eyes resemble Bane’s?

oOo

Much to Brown’s dismay, the forensic facial comparison was a flop.

Bane’s face was hidden by the mask the only visible parts were his eyes and two lines extending over them up to the middle of his head. Not nearly enough for any comparison.

But his gut told him he was onto something.

He decided to approach this problem differently. He had a plethora of Bane’s pictures, so he gathered all the ones of Dorrance too and tried to see if there were any similarities. He found some, but not many. The slope of his shoulders, perhaps. His pointed stare, and the colour of his eyes.

Even to himself, all of that sounded pathetic.

Once, in the middle of the night working an entirely different case, he remembered a detail. Gotham’s police commissioner had a run in with Bane, just before the siege.

Brown went to interview Gordon, which turned out to be a bizarre experience.

“So you're saying kid, that he isn't dead?”

“He is presumed dead, and I would like to make sure of it. There was no body.”

“Yeah, like with Batman.”

“Exactly. Do you remember anything that could help identify him?”

Gordon scoffed, looking over the city. He invited Brown to the roof, which seemed odd at first. Even more so when the agent noticed brand new Bat-Signal waiting in the corner, the lamp pointed upwards, ready to call in a hero.

But he was dead. Wasn’t he?

“So many people focused on his bulk… I see what you're doing here, kid. You have good instincts.” The commissioner shook his head, trying to grasp faint wisps of recollection.

“Let me walk through what happened there. I went in pursuit down to the sewers. Two guys with me. Some idiot started shooting, and I don't know what blew up, but there was a big explosion. I was overwhelmed and got a nice hit to the head. If I were younger by twenty years then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Well, they dragged me down the tunnels and brought to Bane.”

He stopped and frowned deeply.

“He was crouching, shirtless. There was a scar running the length of his spine, a nasty, ropey thing. No marks on his chest, as far as I could see. Some burns on his shoulders, but old and faded. I didn't get a long look at him, I was pretending to be dizzy. But what I remember the most is how enormous he seemed. Raw and brutal power radiating off him. Later, when I watched him on the television, he was still formidable, but I can't shake this dread that I felt then. Because he was terrifying even when relaxed.”

This was pure gold.

“Thank you. Thank you so much for sharing that with me.”

“You don’t think he’s dead, kid, do you?”

“I don't. There is a lead. A woman he might have wanted to contact.”

“What woman would be with a monster like that?”

“Maybe she’s a monster too.”

“Maybe.”

oOo

Armed with information from Gordon, Brown started working on Dorrance full time. He screened all of his accounts, all of his books, everything he could find on the man.

He was squeaky clean. Too clean to be genuine.

The fervour of righteousness burned in his chest, the elation propelling him forward.

His work suffered, but Brown was sure that finding Bane was imperative. Proving that Dorrance was him. That the terrorist who planned to kill millions with a bomb was alive and living peacefully, while all those families of thousands of his victims despaired.

And then he got a visit that stoked his conviction even more, that motivated him to try harder still.

He was looking at pictures of Dorrance, the scientist caught unawares shopping and walking around town. The last of the work Brown managed to squeeze while he still was in Norway.

Then someone brought a bag over his head and bound his wrist behind the chair. So fast he barely could comprehend what happened before he was panting quickly into the rough fabric scratching his nose. He couldn't see a thing but felt a presence shift beside him.

“You are investigating Bane,” the person said. It was a man, and he had some weird piece of tech that made his voice unrecognisable. Growling lowly, threateningly.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Batman,” the man said.

“Batman is dead.”

“As is Bane.”

“I have evidence that he may be alive.”

“I saw him die.”

“Did you check his body?”

“He was struck by a rocket, straight in the chest, then propelled ten feet away with a blast. He can’t be alive.”

“How are you not dead then?”

“A trick.”

“Are you the only person in the world capable of such tricks?”

There was no answer. He struggled against his bounds and found out that the knots were loosely tied. On purpose.

When he took the bag away, he was once again alone in the room.

Some of Bane’s pictures were missing.

oOo

The second visit to Norway was official. Brown showed his findings to his bosses and implored. He just needed to check. To make sure. What if it turned out that this guy was somehow connected to Bane? He didn’t tell them outright he thought Dorrance was the masked man, he had enough clarity of mind not to sabotage himself this way. But he plotted and schemed. The proof that tipped the scale was Dorrance’s scientific work.

Brown convinced his people that is was all coded messages to terrorists.

The antiquities were an obvious giveaway of laundering money too.

But before the bureaucratic machine was moved into action, he wondered whether to give Mrs Wolf one last chance at redemption.

#Fanwork: Fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #Bane(Dcu)#bane (dcu)#bane dcu #bane #original female character #original characters #reticulum #thescientist

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mulechurchyard-blog · 6 years

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What I mean when I say Ex-Gay

“Because you see we boys are like that. We are more afraid of the medicine than of the illness”

Pinocchio,Carlo Collodi

Over the 2015/16 festive period I had two epiphanies: (i) I wasn’t gay and (ii) there is a God.

There was a gap of around a month between the two. During that month, I unpicked my former identity, and I realised that I had been had: the concept of homosexual identity is lie, and the way that the lie is maintained is incredibly complex and damaging. At first, I wondered how I could become a secular voice who could help people see what I had seen, but God had other plans. In a few short weeks he had saved me for Himself, and now I knew that my message would be so outrageous there was no chance of being listened to. I knew what I was like before, and there was no way I would have listened… or maybe I would have listened a little bit, secretly. I might therefore have read on, if just to be outraged.

Having crossed the boundaries between the two worlds, I realised there is a problem to which there are four parts:

(i) LGBT people do not understand Christianity

(ii) Christians do not understand LGBT people

(iii) LGBT people do not understand themselves

(iv) Christians do not understand Christianity

So, as far debate and dialogue between LGBT people and Christians are concerned, things were never going to go well. As someone who has now experienced both, this blog sets out to address that a bit.

First, to state what I do not support. A couple of weeks back, there was an episode ofRupaul’s Drag Race (which I find fascinating) where one of the competitors broke down crying as he described his Christian parents subjecting him to an exorcism to rid him of a gay demon. That is spiritual abuse. No one can change for the sake of someone else. We each have a cross to bear, and it is our choice in how to bear it. It must be acknowledged that once a child is an adult, then they are on their own journey. Whilst love and guidance remain essential, that guidance must not be authoritarian (in fact authoritarian parenting may have been part of the problem in the first place). It goes without saying that verbal, physical, spiritual and emotional abuse (including shunning) play no part at all. I will write about parenting fully, later on.

However, there are a number of videos doing the rounds on YouTube, where people speak of amazing hole-on-one spiritual experiences where some charismatic preacher lays their hands on them, and they receive the holy spirit and “over-come” their sexuality all the same moment. If that is true, that’s great for them, I suppose, but it lies well beyond the bounds of realism for most. Maybe there is a leap of faith so profound that these people do just change their sexuality through belief, but as Rosario Champagne Butterfield, a Christian writer who also came through homosexuality, says, expecting it to happen is really prosperity gospel territory (the heretical and blatantly untrue belief that becoming a Christian is going to make you well, and bring financial prosperity because God knows you deserve it). What if these individuals discover that still struggle with same-sex desire? Who will they talk to about it? What if they don’t talk about it, and then act on it secretly? Either way, I am afraid to say that the euphoria of discovering God wears off overtime. You discover that you still do get ill, you still make terrible mistakes, your loved ones still die unsaved and you do still experience same-sex desire after all. Relying on Him and trusting Him can become harder. God doesn’t remove us from Earthly reality, he shows us what it truly is and if we understand what He is seeking in us, rather than us just expecting things of Him, He will help us to bear its challenges. That is why the prosperity gospel is absolute pap. There needs to be more credible and accessible explanations and courses of action, for the sake of everybody including charismatics.

It seems to be me, that most LGBT people who come to faith in Jesus, certainly within the UK evangelical culture in which I exist, still talk about experiencing same-sex attraction and choose to be celibate (Those who say that they are following Jesus and actively pursuing an LGBT lifestyle at that same time, aren’t Christians and I am not going to discuss that particular issue here). So, we have the two basic Christian views that seem to float around in culture and imagination:

I) Over-the-top, all encompassing, instantaneous, spiritual theatrics/histrionics

II) Celibacy

Celibacy is problematic though as it just says, “This is me and don’t ask question.” Although the way of dealing with it is different, this is basically the same thing as that that mainstream LGBT community says, often with extreme defensiveness, and there is a big reason for that. The thing that LGBT people fear above all other things is self-knowledge.

Self-knowledge is terrifying, because through self-knowledge an LGBT person will see that the person who is hurting them, the person who is humiliating them, who is filling their body with drink and drugs at the weekend (if they are that way inclined), who is causing their mental anxiety, who is generating these feelings of exclusion and who is preventing them from taking their role in God’s created order, is themselves. The sinful world has told them a lie about themselves, and they have believed it. They have not only believed it, they have run with it and through forging community with other LGBT people they have created a self-perpetuating social force that tells them that change is impossible, and any attempt to change is extremely damaging or laughable.

As these communities have sucked men and women in to them, grown ever larger and gained influence, they have taken it upon themselves to proclaim all science and psychology that suggest that homosexual or trans identity is even remotely changeable, linked to other mental health/personality disorders or liable to damage the individual further, have been irrefutably debunked. But they haven’t. My own lived experience show there is profound truths in much of the psychological writings of the pre-“liberation” era that have been excluded from contemporary discourse with such vehemence, it is almost impossible to access them, let alone hear them be discussed with any seriousness. There has been such a force of will and pressure from the LGBT community that they have managed to suppress the thought that these theories could have any truth in them at all. That is because discovering the truth in them is terrifying as it shows them that they are far less in control of their own bodies and minds than they think they are. This terror is as real for Christian LGBT people and those within the mainstream.

We can see this process happening just now with the gender-neutral debate. Previously, no one believed this thing existed as anything other than attention seeking linked in with certain pathologies, but slowly the debate is being crushed. Maintaining the idea that there even is a debate to be had, is portrayed as morally abhorrent. People become afraid to speak out. This is “not even up for debate” stance inevitably seeps in and affects the Christian world just as much as mainstream culture. Hence, I am not satisfied with the celibacy answer, because I think those who pursue it remain within the lie when greater and deeper recognition of your God-created reality is possible. And if full change proves elusive, at least there can come a greater ability to understand same-sex desire/LGBT-identity better and struggle with it less. To all intents and purposes, I am still celibate, and I don’t see that changing in the near future. But it’s not because I am resisting same-sex attraction, but because I am still beset with emotional issues from the past and I don’t feel able to cope with a relationship with a woman (again I will discuss this further later on). But more importantly I am saved, and I am not living within a lie that places a barrier between me and the true nature of reality anymore. In some ways, it is exactly like The Matrix. The world Neo wakes up can seem one hell of a lot harder to deal with than existing within the Matrix, but it is real, and that is profoundly more meaningful that living within the safe confines of a lie. And in reality, the lie is not safe at all. It cleverly disguises it dangers. Addiction issues, mental health issues, suicide, domestic violence, loneliness, anxiety, sexual promiscuity and narcissism are all far more prevalent in LGBT people than they are in the non-LGBT population. Their unacknowledged realties are screaming out against the lie that is being forced on to them, and this is without even going into the more metaphysical realms of damnation and exclusion from God’s Eternal Kingdom that lie will breed in time.

Christian celibacy is better, but it is not yet forceful enough to bring about the culture change that needs to happen. Ed Shaw has written a book called The Plausibility Problem, in which he discusses the problem of presenting celibacy as a plausible lifestyle choice for LGBT people as they seek Jesus. I think it is a huge problem, and it will always remain a minority choice. I think there is a more radical solution that even the church is now too afraid of. God create man and woman to be together. LGBT-identity is a lie, and we need to stop contributing to that lie. We need to undo it. Same-sex attraction is an issue deeply related to LGBT-identity, but it is also separate as it can exist independent of the LGBT-identity. Likewise, same-sex attraction is a lie. It is not part of God’s created order. We need to undo that too, rather than preach repression. The solution to both lie in language and how people and feelings are described. This process of re-description is deeply disturbing, often very upsetting and above all, terrifying. The road down which I have travelled in the few years has often been hard to bare; and I have found myself gasping with desperation “but who am I then?” To endure such mental turmoil and chaos, the individual must have security in something larger than themselves. Therefore, whilst I believe that coming to faith and overcoming LGBT-identity/same-sex desire are separate things that require separate processes, I doubt that the latter transformation is possible without a total reliance and trust in the peace, love and purpose that God has provided for us.

God and the goodness of his created order are the medicine, but Pinocchio is right, they do seem more terrifying than the illness, even when the illness promises death. That is especially the case when that illness is sin of our own making. So, my last word is this; do not be afraid of the medicine. Although it may seem bitter thing to swallow at first, it is very good indeed.

#christianity #homosexuality #lgbt #ex gay #philosophy #psychology #the church

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jerseydeanne · 6 years

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Roseberrycupcake-A doctor’s point of view

To those who cast doubt on Harry’s future:

Harry was born with a voice others have to spend decades to earn. Despite his previous dalliances with celebrities, he’s not a part of that culture; this means his platform comes with a level of respect. It’s a tremendous blessing, and he has already begun practicing this God-given gift to change lives. To those who doubt his abilities, I want to illustrate just two ways he can improve his pre-existing campaigns.

#1. AIDS campaign: I know some will disagree with my assessment of his AIDS campaign; but personally speaking, I think there are some rooms for improvement. While lending his voice to the matter gives much-needed publicity to the AIDS charities, he has the ability to do something more. For instance, it seems like the catchphrase these days is that “AIDS is just like diabetes.” This analogy bothered me quite a lot. While I fully understand the good intentions behind it, such words can be dangerous for following reasons:

A. Diabetes is a chronic disease, full of dangerous complications; just because diabetes has become common with the rise in obesity in our society, it does not mean it has become any less dangerous. Diabetes is a risk factor for all sorts of life-threatening diseases. In fact, many diabetics will see their visions decline and their kidneys fail as a natural progression of their disease. The newer pills out there can’t replace insulin as the last resort. I’ve seen diabetic patients plea endlessly to avoid insulin injections; no one likes getting shots, after all; but insulin is just one of many pains diabetics go through in their lives. They can’t eat whatever they want, which is more restrictive and more frustrating than some realize. They have to check their blood sugars and record them, which means they have to poke themselves with sharp needles everyday. If they’re unfortunate enough to give themselves insulin shots, their bellies may have lumps from the many injections they get. I know some will be saying that I’m preaching to the choir by reiterating common knowledge; but I’m trying to highlight the fact that using an analogy that “AIDS is like diabetes” comes with the risk of coming across as someone ignorant of the dangerous of diabetes and as someone apathetic to diabetics’ plight.

B. AIDS is a sexually transmitted disease (mostly); diabetes isn’t. Yes, I know vertical transmissions (from mother to child) is possible. I’m well aware that IV drug users who share needles are also vulnerable to AIDS; but at its core, AIDS is an STD. It’s an infectious disease that raises a serious concern, because it’s a disease with serious consequences that can be spread unknowingly. You can’t catch diabetes by kissing a diabetic; but you ARE exposing yourself to likelihood of getting an HIV infection if you have unprotected sex with someone infected. This means sexual partners have to be open about their infected status; and these patients have to be open when they visit the hospitals. While destigmatizing HIV/AIDS will allow them to come forward, I feel like the motivation for their honesty is misplaced; it shouldn’t stem from the fact that this is somehow a “light” disease they shouldn’t be ashamed of; it should come from the recognition that it IS a serious disease with dangerous complications; this is very crucial, not just for the general public, but also for the HIV patients themselves. Some HIV/AIDS patients have very poor compliance when it comes to their antiviral medications. While denial and medication costs (depending on where they live) may contribute, this behavior stems from the fact that leukopenia (decreased white blood cells that fight infections) is asymptomatic (without symptoms) until you get sick. It’s not uncommon to see HIV patients come in because they feel like they have a cold only to see that their white blood cell count is ridiculously low. It’s a proof that they haven’t been taking their medications properly; and that’s because they haven’t understood the dangers of their disease completely; unfortunately, by this time, their illness have progressed too far; and it’s the patients who end up suffering from this misunderstanding.

Destigmatizing AIDS and trivializing it are two different matter. I’m not sure if Harry ever used that aforementioned analogy consciously, but in my opinion, it may send a wrong message to all parties involved: diabetics may feel like their sufferings are being taken lightly and HIV patients may feel like their disease is not something to be taken seriously. While HIV/AIDS is a disease public is familiar with, not many fully understand its psychological impact. For one, you can’t ever have unprotected sex with your partner if you’re infected with HIV. If you’re single, you have to risk losing the person you love by disclosing your status. Assuming you’re married, conceptions will become an issue. If you’re a male patient, you will have to go through IVF to have children; if you’re a female patient, you will always have that nagging thought throughout pregnancy regardless of the antivirals available. Just because there are drugs that can manage it now these days doesn’t change its nature; and its nature is what causes such restrictions that will impact them psychologically. I think addressing the issue from this angle will come with several benefits: public won’t feel forced to change their previous opinions on AIDS, and therefore will be more willing to understand; the HIV/AIDS patients will understand that it’s OK to feel frustrated with their disease; younger (and not-so-younger) generations will be more cautious in their sexual practices once they understand the lasting impact of AIDS.

If you’re unconvinced, allow me to give you an example of a successful anti-smoking campaign. Anti-smoking lobbyists have tried for many years to try to educate the public on the dangers of smoking. They’ve made posters with tarred lungs from autopsies, oral cancers, you name it; ironically, the most successful campaign poster they’ve made was one with a wrinkled woman; they used the picture to highlight the fact that smoking hastens the aging process. A simple idea, for sure; but funnily enough, that picture put quite a lot of female teenagers off smoking. I think the reason this poster was so much successful than the other ones was that it played on imminence rather than chance. When we think of cancer, we know it’s a matter of chance; many of us had heard the line “my grandmother smoked for 70 years, but she lived to be 90!” at least once. When you’re a smoker, it’s easier to overlook the percentage of people who DO get cancer from smoking than it is to look at the people who DON’T. But with age, it’s a different matter. We can’t stop ourselves from getting older; and this unavoidable fate is what put many female teenagers off. The success of this campaign is what makes me think that approaching HIV/AIDS campaign in a similar manner will be successful; in fact, it will broaden its scope from destigmatization of AIDS to promotion of safe sex. Like cancer, people know getting STDs of any kind is a CHANCE. But many of those same people want to get married and have children someday. If they fully understood that lasting impact of this disease, they’ll be more likely to practice safe sex; safe sex will decrease the chances of STD infections; STD prevalence will decline, and AIDS will be one of them.

#2. Veterans campaign: Brave men and women in uniform are an inspiration to us all; but if there’s one thing that they have in common, it’s that they have very high tolerance to pain. They’ve been conditioned to overlook bruises and aches. While such tolerance makes great warriors, the problems surface once they retire from the army. Even if they were fortunate to avoid the lasting physical injuries of army life, they’re so used to ignoring pains that they’re in danger of overlooking danger signs of heart attacks and strokes. While many countries have spent bottomless funds to educate the public on the danger signs of heart attacks and strokes, these two diseases are still the number one killers in our society these days. By now, all of us know that if you have a chest pain that radiates down to your arm, you may be suffering from a heart attack; if your speech is getting slurred and you feel weakness on one side of the body, you’re experiencing stroke. What many people don’t know is that these “typical” symptoms of heart attack and stroke are not as common as they think. In fact, women, elderly, and diabetics are in dangers of suffering “atypical” episodes. This means instead of chest pain, they may experience jaw pain, shoulder pain, or arm pain. Or they may just experience nausea and vomiting! These uncharacteristic symptoms mean that these patients are likely to overlook the likelihood of heart diseases (because they were so well educated on the “typical” symptoms) and think they’re just suffering from a stomach bug. Regarding stroke, slurred speech and hemiparesis are also not as common. I was just talking to a rehabilitation specialist the other day, and he commented on how 1/3 of stroke patients he sees die, 1/3 are disabled, and only 1/3 recover. When I asked him the reason behind such ridiculous figures, he talked about how it’s ALWAYS too late when these sort of patients come to the hospital. While early recognition is the key to treatment of these sort of diseases, the patient group makes the process difficult. The elderly patients are more likely to complain of general weakness and that “something’s off” rather than the familiar signs of stroke. By the time family members decide to bring them to the hospital, the golden time has already passed.

Through his work with the veterans, Harry can discuss these uncommon signs of heart attacks and strokes; and he can highlight the importance of admitting to pain and going to the hospital. Such education can help save these brave heroes’ lives. These veterans may have been trained to be ruthless back in the day, but they’re were never meant to be machines. In addition, if the veterans learn to be comfortable enough to admit to their physical pain, they may find talking about their emotional sufferings easier. Physical health and mental health are closely intertwined; you can’t ignore one while talking about the other.

If someone like me were able to come up with two light suggestions to improve his current campaigns, I know Harry and his team will be able to do a better job. After all, they’re much more experienced in the matter; but what makes Harry special isn’t his PR. Harry’s a good soul. If I didn’t believe so, I wouldn’t feel compelled to be here. Even his current predicament serves to prove his good heart, because he was the one who got betrayed; it is a result of a lapse of judgement and not a reflection of poor character. Harry’s a good soul who’s doing a good job. Harry can and will recover from this. I know that for sure.

-Roseberrycupcakes (RCC)

Thank you so much, it’s always a pleasure to read your point of view

#PrinceHarry #submission

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masslessobtrusion · 3 years

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Yikes, This is the kind of shit I send to Arielle. I was freaking out. I am very distraught and worried. Scared. I think I might die. How else am I supposed to feel? I have no one to calm me down. I am left to make assumptions as to why. It’s a summary of what the last week or so has looked like. I don’t even know if I feel like this or if my brain is searching for answers because of how I feel like something is seriously wrong with my physical health and I am in panic mode. I lose touch with what is real when I have no one to keep me attached to it. Yes, I need reassertion some times. My throat and chest. I may not be able to speak much longer. But I have no human beings to talk to. I am totally flipping out. Here: These are the thoughts that go through my head. I often send them to her. It probably freaks her out. How can I not think like this? Maybe if people started treating me different? She probably wants me to die so I can stop bugging her. I want to stop bugging her too. I want this to stop. I don’t know how she feels so my mind races to wild assumptions. I’ve tried asking her about it. She won’t speak to me about it. Boundaries. She can’t explain what they are and I’m not allowed to ask about them. I never got an answer, I have brought up boundaries 2-3 times I believe. I told her I’d rather talk about why she feels the need to have them in the first place. To fix what I was doing wrong. Asked where she learned it from. No answer. I made crude statements about people and she answered with a how dare you text me when I’m sleeping. Leave me alone type of text. I apologized, I believe. I was really worried that morning. I have turned up the craziness a lot in the last week. I have been to the ER twice this week. I feel like I’m not going to be able to breathe soon. I am very anxious about going to another doctor tomorrow. My voice is about 75% gone. My pitch is becoming higher and higher as less air comes out. Burping, vomiting, is extremely difficult. I have barked at her about if she so indoctrinated by a gender studies degree that she refuses to be nice to a man who has been abusive to her, admitted it, explained why, and apologized many times. I have asked to be told about what kind of communication I am supposed to have with her. That I don’t know these things and I am in a very bad state of mind. I am in an abusive situation. I have called her names and used her as an emotional support animal/punching bag. She barely talks to me. I ask how she feels and she doesn’t talk. I don’t know if I’m hurting her. I ask. She doesn’t say.

Tell me how to communicate please. You’ve known me for 10 years and know what I’m like when I get like this, but I have NEVER been as bad as I am right now. This is on the level of the 2019 freakout. But I’m being way nicer and not saying fucked up hateful shit. I was taking a shit ton of xanax and god knows what else. Is that excuse good enough. That was a terrible fucking experience I was in the hospital for 10 days with a broken jaw and almost died. I have apologized and explained many times and barely get a response. I think she is occupied with other things in her life. Work, romance, fitness, hobbies, concerts, fun. That’s great. I don’t know if it’s intentional. I’ve explained how fear of abandonment is a big trigger of mine. I don’t feel assure about her intentions. Maybe I can do something different and learn from it, so I don’t do it to other people or her again. I have been making strides to improve my mental and physical health and it is getting worse. I sit in filth and regularly get told that I’m a worthless piece of fat shit that can’t do anything, fucking drug addict piece of shit! That’s what my Dad STILL says to me. After everything I’ve written about, there’s so much more too. He still spews hatred towards me. I have tried to put a stop to my parents abuse. This is why they hate me right now. I asked them to stop calling me fat and worthless. They refused.. I’ve told Arielle that I feel like she is cold and distant in the past. I’ve told her I felt like she can’t relate to a situation like mine because she has safety net after safety net. A loving family. A living wage job given to her. She lives in a safe wealthy area where poor people aren’t allowed. It’s a destination for the wealthy and elite. Pretending to be poor in college is a novelty for people who grew up in that area. It’s beautiful and people are nice. I loved it there. That was my experience living there for 8 years. She is a fit attractive female. She’s pretty. She feels that makes her a victim. I think that makes her one of the luckiest and most privileged humans on the planet. I fear that she is too indoctrinated to hate men or possibly considers me racist and sexist. Am I racist and sexist. Probably. I’m a lot of things. I still deserve help when I’m literally fucking dying and begging. She has the means to focus on whatever makes her happy. I just want to be around people who aren’t mean to me and will listen to my health concerns without telling me I’m crazy or on drugs. A wealthy inheritance to secure her future as well as a successful business. Will I live long enough to inherit my parent’s house and shit? I don’t know. It’s probably going to be taken by creditors or spent on drugs.

My parents control my life and refuse to admit they don’t know what they are doing. They are abusive towards me...STILL. To this very day.

I am screaming, hey this is what is going on! Help me. Tell me what to do. The doctors tell me it’s in my head. It’s allergies or anxiety and I should TRY to stop doing drugs.

Things are getting REALLY fucking bad. So, my mind is thinking of every possibility possible. Are the Indian doctors racist and dismissive towards me? Does Arielle want me to die because she feels I’m sexist and racist? Oversharing, honesty, and not having much of a filter have always been an issue for me. Every single fucking human being has told me to fuck off. When I met Arielle. I was a very different person. For real. I was such an arrogant douche when it came to how I slept with women and shit. I honestly felt like no girl wanted to date me. So, I just fucked them and acted like I didn’t want a relationship. I wanted to date Arielle early on. She was young. I flipped out on her. Cut myself and sent her pictures of it in 2011. That was bad and the only/last time I’ve done that to someone. Did she like me better when I just wanted to fuck her though. When I asked her if she wanted to have sex in 2018. Every doctor I have seen tells me to stop doing drugs. What the fuck, I’m not on fucking drugs. They took a drug test the second time I was in the ER on Friday. I can get drugs and do them IF I want. I don’t have an issue obtaining them. I’m not smoking. I’m not snorting anything. The only drugs I have done are edible marijuana and a couple of one-off benzo last month and last year. That’s not going to even contribute to these issues. If anything it would probably help greatly reduce the unpleasantness of my symptoms. Snorting or smoking heroin 100% fuck up my throat and chest. I have been explaining what has been going on.

Can you please, be here for me? I promise. I just want a human being who knows me. The appointment is tomorrow at 1145am. This is very scary. I don't have anyone to talk to. I promise. The Roxanne lady has been helpful to talk to at times. She is a bit weird sometimes, but she has listened to me for years and always talks to me. She tells me about her life too sometimes. She's an older woman from Georgia. I have talked to her on the phone. Name/number checks out with google. She is currently an estate attorney and I started talking to her in 2017-18. She didn't believe I was a heroin addict because of how I wrote or something. Thought my stories were far fetched. Years later, she told me that she found her husbands body after he shot himself and she wanted to be there for me, to give me someone to talk to.1hNot be here physically. But yeah. I'm really worried.1h1 week. You set the disappearing message time to 1 week. I just sat outside by my Mom. I feel off. There are huge bruises from the IV, they aren't healing. This has never happened before with bruises like that. I feel light headed. I told her that I know she did everything out of love. That I know she thought she was doing the right thing. She said, she messed up and started talking about how it was a very hard time for her, because her Mom died. I told her in regards to this health issue. I told her that I messed up. I have been screaming for help and I just wanted someone to help me. I told her that I might die. This is serious. She said, "oh hun...". Then, she started telling me about how she thinks I shouldn't tell the doctors I did heroin. I said that they need to know what caused this. This is serious. She said, "I know, but I think they dismiss you when you say that, just think you should try it.". I said, doctors shouldn't treat people who did drugs differently. They don't know why that person did drugs. There are doctors out there that will be compassionate towards people who did drugs. This was very stressful. Then, she demanded. "IIIII want to talk them!".1hShe still doesn't get it. 1hThis would be the most fucked up thing I have ever done to someone, in my life. It's not a manipulation tactic. I'm not making this up. This is real. I am being as honest as I can be. Please, I could just use some comfort or something. I have nothing here. Besides a cat, a hat, and a dog.23mI used the bathroom. My mom said, "I think I am going to go up and talk to them.". I said, I don't know. I don't know if that is possible or a good idea.20m4 her: I'm at work, haven't been able to reapond9mRespond9mI know10mGlad you have an appointment tomorrow9m

me: Thanks. Me too.9mBut this is it I think. I'm going to get the bad news and I've probably been right about it. It won't make me feel better.9mWould you have a bit of time to chat later. Or if there is an emergency.8m her: I might have time later4m me: I'll probably go to bed around 8-9.2m

#raised by narcissists #borderline #bpd #borderline freakout #sobriety #abusive parents #absuive me

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dotshiiki · 7 years

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the AU from left field wtf where did this come from.

I cannot believe I went and wrote this but it wouldn’t leave me alone and I had to get it out of my system so I could go back to writing, you know, stuff that I’m supposed to be writing, anyway Grey’s Anatomy!AU or for those of you who don’t know the show it’s basically surgical-intern!Annabeth and patient!Percy with a side of douchebag-attending!Luke in a completely messed up triangle (and Annabeth thinks she’s so going to hell for all of it). Just your average rip-off of the GA pilot (I can’t believe that show is still going).

(Rated T for swearing and non-explicit sex. It wouldn’t be Grey’s without the swearing and sex. Read at your own risk. :P)

The first time she meets Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase gets groped.

To be fair, he has no clue what he did. She can't very well fault a patient when his flailing limbs land in an unfortunate spot when he's in the middle of a grand mal seizure. She just happens to be the poor intern leaning over him, trying to hold him steady.

Anyway, it's just one more annoying thing in what has already been an exhausting day. She's into hour twenty-five of her first-ever shift at Olympus General, and she's already dealt with explosive diarhhea, uncontrolled vomitting, and seventeen rectal exams. (She swears Dr Ramírez-Arellano must hate her guts.) Getting groped by an unconscious patient should be routine by now, right?

Besides, it could be worse--he could be some smelly old man rather than the fit twenty-six-year-old car crash victim with a ripped body (hey, she's the one hanging on to it for dear life while Dr Ramírez-Arellano yells for two milligrams of chlorazepam and a wide bore IV, after all). And he is kinda cute, if you ignore the matted blood on his forehead and the fact that his eyes are rolling back in his head.

Great. Now she knows she's really tired, if she's actually checking out bloodied car crash victims.

They finally get him stabilised and up to CT, and Annabeth rests her eyes briefly as she leans against the wall outside the room, wondering for the tenth time since her shift began why it was so important for her to join the game anyway.

The speech the Chief of Surgery gave this morning (yesterday morning? Time doesn't really have much meaning after twenty-five hours on your feet) comes back to her: The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You'll be pushed to the breaking point.

Right now, Annabeth thinks she may be at one of those breaking points Dr Brunner was talking about. She can't think of a single reason she should be a surgeon, but she can think of a thousand reasons why she should quit.

'Hey. Hey!'

She blinks at the lab tech who's waving the scans in front of her to get her attention.

'These yours, right?'

'Uh--right.' Annabeth stifles a yawn, grabs her scans, and heads off to find her resident.

Twenty-three more hours to go.

OoOoO

The next time Percy Jackson gropes her, it's another accident. She's adjusting his IV drip in the ICU when he wakes up, reaching out blindly. His fingers brush her breast and pause in confusion. Annabeth freezes as well--is this guy serious?--and then she realises that although Jackson's eyes are open and staring at her, they also have the blank look of someone who can't see.

'What--' Jackson croaks. His fingers move hesitantly against her chest--and she regains enough presence of mind to move quickly back, out of their way. 'Oh my god, did I just--what's going on?'

'It's okay,' she says soothingly. 'You're in the ICU. You were in a car accident. You're gonna be fine.'

'I was--oh gods, Mom! My mom--is she okay?'

Annabeth vaguely remembers two passengers who came in at the same time. She thinks Will Solace took care of the older woman in the pit ... ah, yes. Minor injury. 'She's fine,' Annabeth reassures him. 'Got away with nothing but a sprained shoulder. Didn't even have to stay the night.'

'And Callie? Where's Callie? Is she okay?'

'Is that your girlfriend?'

There's no reason her heart should rise a little when he shakes his head. It's of utterly no concern to her whether her patient is attached or single, even if those glassy unseeing eyes are melting her heart (it's sympathy, pure sympathy). The irises a striking shade of green, and she can only imagine what they'd do to her if they were clear and lucid.

'My friend Leo's. Poseidon, Neptune, and Porcys, he's gonna kill me.'

Annabeth bites back a smile at the funny cursing. She's never heard anyone swear on the names of ocean deities of an ancient polytheistic culture. At least she thinks they're ancient water gods? It's been decades since Middle School history or Latin or whatever that class was that they learned about them. And she wonders what on earth Percy Jackson does that he'd be up to speed on ancient Greek culture. Maybe he is Greek. He has the looks or it, mmm, Mediterranean skin and thick lashes--okay enough, Chase.

'I'm pretty sure she's fine, too.' She closes her eyes and tries to recall the other woman in the ER. Short, long-haired? Did anyone take her case? No, because she--'Got away without a scratch. She was one lucky girl.'

Jackson relaxes visibly. Annabeth frowns a little. This 'Callie' might be his friend's girlfriend, but he does seem awfully concerned. Maybe he has a thing for her, too.

And no, she doesn't care if a guy she doesn't even know is crushing on his friend's girl. He can like whoever he wants. He's just her patient.

'Can I see them?'

'After your surgery,' she says. 'I just need to check you over now. Can you follow the light, Mr Jackson?' She already knows before she does the pupillary response test that he won't be able to, but it's all procedure and she has to go through it.

'Percy,' he says.

'Sorry?'

'My name's Percy.'

'Percy, then.' She shines the pen-light in his eyes. No response. Hopefully it's only temporary--a pinched optic nerve, maybe, something that can be fixed in surgery.

'And I don't see anything.' He swallows hard. 'Am I--' The way his Adam's apple bobs tremulously, like he's already trying to come to terms with the bad news she hasn't yet delivered tugs at her heart.

Damn it.

She can just hear her mother's voice in her head--'Personal feelings get in the way. You have to be able to detach yourself if you're going to be a good surgeon.' Yeah, her mom's a pro at the art of detaching herself. She's done it for years and years, and not just with patients.

'We may be able to fix it in surgery,' Annabeth tells him. 'It should happen tomorrow. We needed to make sure you're stable before we get you in the OR.'

'Right,' he says. 'Are you my surgeon?'

'I--uh, no, I'm just an intern.'

'Oh.' Percy laughs nervously. 'You know, the last time I ended up in hospital--'

'A regular, are you?'

His grin is sheepish. 'Not really. It's just that I sprained my ankle a couple of weeks back and the doctor said it was fine and I wouldn't need to come back. I don't think he bargained for car accidents.' Percy frowns. 'I can't remember how that happened.'

'Don't worry about it. Short-term memory loss isn't uncommon with head traumas.'

She finishes her examination--other than his eyes, Percy seems well enough for a guy recovering from a grand mal. It's funny--that shouldn't really affect his sight, but there's clearly something more going on in his brain that the neuro attending will definitely need a closer look at. She could've sworn his scans were clean, though.

'I'll let you get some rest.' She rolls up her stethoscope and hangs in around her neck.

'No, wait--don't go.' His hand reaches out feebly, thankfully nowhere near her chest this time. 'I--sorry, you must have stuff to do.'

She does--there's labs to deliver and other patients to check on, and her shift is just about up, at long last--but Percy Jackson is the main case she's been assigned. Her responsibility.

She takes his hand. His fear is palpable; she can feel it in the cling of his trembling fingers.

'It's okay,' she murmurs. 'You're gonna be fine.'

'Thanks, Dr, er--'

'Chase. Annabeth.'

'Annabeth,' he repeats. 'That's a pretty name. It suits you.'

'You can't even see me.'

'I can tell from your voice.'

Although she knows it's probably the pain meds talking, and he probably won't remember a word of this conversation the next morning, Annabeth gets a little flutter in the pit of her stomach anyway. Percy's unseeing eyes blink at her. They are nice eyes, almond-shaped and slightly slanted, like they're sending her a personal wink. And god, how unfair are those thick lashes on a guy?

'I bet you say that to all the girls.'

'Only the cute ones.'

'Again, you can't see me.'

'Then you'd better fix my eyes because I'd like to.'

Her heart does a little tap dance. 'You're--you're flirting with me. You can't flirt with me.'

His lips quirk. 'Why not?'

It's the pain meds, and the fear of surgery, she tells herself. He's probably one of those guys who flirts when he's terrified. (She can totally understand that.)

'I'm your doctor, for one.' She should probably let go of his hand if she's going to seriously rebuff him.

But if this is helping him stay calm, that's not a bad thing, right?

'Well, that's good. I thought you were gonna say you're already taken.'

She freezes, thinking guiltily of the messy friends-with-benefits situation she's got going on with her not-boyfriend at the moment (she never knows what to call Luke) that just got more complicated this very afternoon.

Percy must feel the ice that's running through her hands then. 'Oh,' he says, and starts to let go. 'Sorry, I didn't mean--'

She should let this go. Let him go. But her fingers hold on to his of their own accord. 'No, it's not--I mean, it's complicated. I'm not--argh, I'm single, is what I mean.'

'Huh. So flirting's a go?'

'Yes--no! I'm still your doctor!'

He laughs. 'Damn, you're a lot smarter than the tour groupies.'

Tour groupies? Oh god, he's probably a rock star or something. She's flirting with a rock star--no, he's flirting with her, and when was the last time someone like him flirted with someone like her? She wonders what it'd be like to date a cute guy who isn't all tied up with her career and her mom and the train wreck of her romantic history.

Good gods, what is she thinking? She can't date a patient.

Percy mistakes her silence for confusion and clarifies, 'I'm a surfer. You know, surfing champs and all that?'

Oh. Well, she got that one wrong. 'Like Kelly Slater?'

'Funny how that's the only surfer anyone ever knows.'

'I know other surfers,' she replies automatically, although she doesn't really. She's barely even been to the beach all her life. It's not like they're far from the water, but when has her mom ever had the time to take her? And once you enter med school--well, that's kind of like kissing your social life goodbye.

'Oh? Name one.'

'Percy Jackson.'

He laughs so hard, she's afraid he might burst an aneurysm in his brain. He has a great laugh--it bubbles up from deep inside him and fills the whole room--and it's so infectious, she can't help but join in.

She really has other stuff to do, but she ends up sitting there with him, holding his hand and bantering about stuff she doesn't even remember later (but still feels like the silver lining in her crappy first day of work) until he falls asleep again.

She tells herself it's just patient care.

It's what any good doctor would do, right?

OoOoO

It's at least five hours after her shift officially ends when she stumbles into an empty on-call room. She's supposed to be going home, and she knows that putting off the moment will only make it worse when she finally faces her mother's interrogation of her first day as an intern, but she's going to avoid it anyway. And if there's one excuse Dr Athena Chase can't argue with, it's being tied up at the hospital.

God knows she's used it enough times herself.

Luke finds her, of course, right when she's ready to crawl under the thin hospital-issue sheets (would it really kill them to spring for something a little more comfortable for weary doctors? She's not asking for much, maybe just something soft instead of crisp and sterile) and lose herself to the world.

'Annabeth,' he says, with that smug arrogance that he carries everywhere with him. Once upon a time she thought it the sexiest thing ever, was incredibly flattered that her mom's up-and-coming young resident took an interest in her.

Right now their relationship--if you can even call it that--is a time bomb that might explode in her face any moment.

'Dr Castellan,' she says stiffly.

'Dr Chase,' he mimics. 'What happened to Luke?'

'Did you even think to tell me you were coming to work here?'

He chuckles and turns the lock in the door. 'I thought it'd make a nice surprise.'

'A nice surprise?' she hisses. 'I had to find out that my--my--whatever this was--is my attending from my resident!' She can't forget the humiliating moment when she brought Percy Jackson's scans to Dr Ramírez-Arellano, only to be told to deliver them to the new attending--Dr Castellan. She'd frozen completely at the sound of his name, until Piper McLean, her fellow intern, had elbowed her sharply in the ribs.

'Thought you'd be happy to have one attending who won't be riding you. Well, maybe in a different way.' He leers at her suggestively, leaving no question about why he's come looking for her.

'We can't.'

'I don't recall any objections last night.'

'First of all, that was two nights ago, and B, that was before you became my boss.'

He steps into her space and places a hand on the back of her neck to draw her face towards his. 'Lighten up. You're off duty now, aren't you?'

'We really shouldn't.'

'Nobody needs to know.' His hand is hot and heavy on her stomach, finding its way to the waistband of her scrubs and tugging them down.

They really shouldn't--this could blow up in so many ways--but she lets him, because it's Luke, and this is a dance they've been doing for years.

And okay, she needs something to get her mind off Percy Jackson, whose smile and voice and touch is lingering in her brain more than she cares to admit. Sleeping with Luke may be flirting with disaster, but fantasising about a patient--a patient, for Christ's sake, talk about breaches of ethics--is so much worse.

(Except that when Luke touches her, it's the accidental brush of Percy's fingers against her chest that she thinks of, and the echo of his laughter that rings through her head in place of Luke's moans, and how much more fucked up could this get?)

When it's over and Luke is snoring next to her, Annabeth gets up quietly and drags herself into the shower. She turns up the heat and lets the near-scalding spray scrub her raw, but the ghost of Luke clings to her like a second skin.

(Yeah, you can all send me to Tartarus now.)

#grey's anatomy au #percy jackson au #percy jackson #annabeth chase #luke castellan #percabeth #totally messed up lukabeth because you gotta admit that relationship was always fucked up #intern!annabeth #patient!percy #doctor!annabeth #attending!luke #mortals au #wtf i still can't believe i wrote this #can i just get back to writing-as-usual now?#percy jackson fanfic

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k-renne · 7 years

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Dream On, Senator Pt. X

Summary: After the Battle, you and Ben take a moment to breathe.

Previously: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part XI

Even though the Resistance had just won big against the First Order, no one was really celebrating. Luke Skywalker was still missing, and although now you had a way to find him, it was a question of whether or not he would help. Fixing one problem left many others behind, the death of the General’s former partner and other losses along with the fact that the First Order now knew where the Resistance Base was.

You decided to keep your head up, taking the moment after the battle to collect yourself. You were no longer mad at Ben, especially since he just saw his father die in front of him. You didn’t like that he took away your choice, but it was easy to forgive him when nothing bad resulted from it.

“Rey, he’ll be all right, he’s still alive,” You consoled Rey, who was looking over at Finn with concern.

“I have to go,” Rey replies.

“I know, I’ll watch over your friend for now,” You pause. “Oh and make sure to say hi to Luke for me, it’s been a while,” You added. She nodded in acknowledgement, heading off with Luke’s old light saber in tow. You sat with Finn for the better part of the evening, you wanted to be there when he woke up to reassure him.

“Y/N, There you are! Where have you been?” Ben demands. He’s angry that you’re here but he pushes that aside because he’s worried for you, it’s the morning and that means you haven’t slept yet.

“Here, waiting until he wakes up,” You answer.

“You need to rest, he’s going to be fine there’s plenty of staff to take care of him,” Ben reassures you.

“I’m fine,” You snap.

“Please just come and get some breakfast with me, he’s not going anywhere. You still need to take care of yourself, when’s the last time you’ve slept?” Ben lectures you.

“I haven’t,” You say truthfully. “Please,” Ben pleads. “Fine,” You give in, following him to the mess hall.

Reluctantly and at Ben’s insistence you grab a tray full of food, and sit down with him. You’re too tired to talk, eating in silence instead. Ben can tell that you’re about to fall asleep on your plate; satisfied with the amount of food you’ve eaten he moves to help you get up. Full, you feel even more tired, and go along with Ben without protest not realizing that he was leading you to his room.

“Ben where have you taken me? This isn’t the med bay,” You question.

“I know but you need to sleep, you’re about to pass out. This is my room but since you’ll have to go through a bunch of paperwork to get a place to sleep you can just stay here for now.”

“Okay, yeah I’m too tired to even argue. Where can I sleep?” You ask. Ben points to his bed, that you basically fall into, falling asleep as soon as you close your eyes. Ben places a blanket over you, taking off your shoes and unclipping your belt. He lays down next to you, picking up something to read while you sleep.

Every once in a while Ben looks over to see you, remembering that you’re sleeping in his bed. One perk of being the General’s son, he got a pretty nice room in Hotel La Resistance. Even if this wasn’t his normal bed, seeing you besides him sleeping with that cute little snore just got him going. It was just so domestic, him reading while you slept soundly next to him, and he fucking loved it.

Eventually he just put down his reading material to watch you, until his peace was rudely interrupted by a knock on the door. He opened it a crack to see his mother at the door, and he stepped out in the hallway.

“Ben how are you doing?” Leia warmly greets, giving Ben a hug. Ben doesn’t reciprocate, tensing up in his mother’s arms.

“Fine, what do you want?” He asks tersely.

“Perhaps to see my own son? That should be enough, I know a lot has happened since I last saw you, want to talk about it?” Leia offers, still speaking warmly.

“No, I’ve already told you I’m fine,” He reiterates.

“I know you’re not, your father just died you must feel something about it,” Leia continued to pry. Ben sighed; he knew his mother wasn’t going to leave without a proper answer.

“Honestly I don’t know how I feel, I even wanted him dead but it still feels strange, even though he’s gone it still hurts,” Ben confessed. Leia pulled Ben in for a hug again and this time he welcomed it, “I know, and it wasn’t your fault,” She assures him. It feels like a weight is lifted off of his chest, but this was just a step in the long process of healing.

“Hi Y/N, how are you doing?” Leia says to a very sleepy you, who had just stumbled out into the hall to investigate the noise.

“Y/N should be sleeping,” Ben reminds you, while crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

“Thank you for asking General, I am well. I’m sorry for your loss,” You finish with a yawn.

“Thanks to you Y/N, my son is still alive. Please go and rest,” Leia smiles. You nod and decide to go back to sleep before you make a fool of yourself. Ben’s chuckling; you were adorable when you were sleepy. Leia turns to Ben with a quizzical look.

“You like her don’t you,” Leia teases.

“Don’t say anything!” Ben shushes her.

“I knew you would, I’ve never seen a woman upset you like that before,” She says lightheartedly, remembering her own escapades.

“You’re not mad? She’s a Jedi?” Ben blurts out.

“I know but you still like her, the Force is all about life, all about love. It shouldn’t stop you from feeling just because you’re afraid that you’ll suddenly turn to the dark side,” She advises. “You two compliment one another,” She assures.

“Thanks,” Ben sighs in relief.

“I’ll let you go back to sleeping beauty then, take care of yourself.”

“I will,” Ben promises. He quietly reenters him room to see you comfortably snuggling with his blankets and pillows. It was a relief because he was worried that you might have heard him admitting that he liked you.

Later when you wake up you see Ben working out on the clothes in nothing but a pair of loose pants. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, grunting every so often from the exertions of his crunches. And those pants, they were the kind that showed the outline of a guy’s junk, left little to imagination. Boy he was fucking hung. You better stop staring but you couldn’t stop the pleasant burning sensation in your nether regions.

“Y/N, you’re awake,” Ben smirked, noticing that you were checking him out.

“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t do anything wrong,” You deny. Like a lion, Ben slinks over to you, looking at you like he was about to eat you.

“Oh no, that look is even worse.” You get up, preparing to make your escape from your predator. You start walking away, slowly increasing your pace into a run. This only encourages Ben; the chase excites him.

You don’t get far before he encroaches into your personal space, grabbing you and tackling you to the bed. It doesn’t even occur to you to use the force, with your mind all muddled. Ben begins tickling you, making you burst out into laughter. He’s laughing too now, while you’re squirming under him trying to get away.

“Stop it Ben! Please!” You beg between breaths.

“Only if you surrender and say that Ben is the sexiest man alive,” He gives his conditions.

“Fine! I surrender, Ben is the sexiest man alive,” You say while still laughing, unable to take him seriously. He stops for a moment, considering whether or not he’ll accept your response.

“Not good enough, say it again princess,” He whispers lowly in your ear, hovering over you so that you can feel some of his weight against you, legs lying in between your straddle.

“You’re the sexiest man alive,” You stammer out. Ben immediately jumps off you, turning around so that you can’t see his very obvious boner pressing through the thin fabric of his pants.

“I’m going to take a shower,” He mutters.

“Oh, uh okay,” You reply. It was a bit sudden, a complete switch from his playful flirting earlier. Although you were a bit relieved because if he had persisted, well let’s just say you probably would’ve given in. But you couldn’t, especially with how it made you feel all fuzzy and unfocused, and how could you protect him that way?

When Ben comes out from the shower, in a fresh set of clothes he noticed that you’ve changed as well. You smoothed your hands over your new Resistance clothing, it wasn’t your Jedi robes but these garments were functional and clean. Ben watches your actions, unable to look away from the tightness of those pants, the way the fabric stretched over your breasts. “It looks good on you,” He can’t help but say, curse the flirt in him! What a fucking creep, but stars were you perfect.

“Ben I’m going to go check on Finn again and then get something to eat, want to come?” You invite him.

“Sure Babe, I’ll eat dinner with you,” Ben grins.

“Don’t call me Babe, Benny Boy,” You mock.

“No promises, princess,” He winks. He loved your little nicknames, but you’d never beat him at his own game. You two walked side by side down to the medbay, finding the room where Finn was. There you found that Finn was already awake, and talking with Poe Dameron.

“Hey Finn, I’m glad to see awake, how are you doing?” You ask, while smiling at him, which of course makes Ben feel jealous. He knows that you’re probably just being nice, but he’s more upset at himself for all the times he rejected your kindness.

“I’m good, alive. Do you know where Rey went?” He asks. This question makes Ben think, if he was so worried about Rey maybe he shouldn’t be so worried about Finn.

“She went to see Luke Skywalker, I’m sure that she’ll be back for you though, she cares about you. You two have sure become fast friends,” You say.

“Yeah, friends,” Finn mutters. “Thank you Y/N, and you too Ben realized that Finn may just be in the same boat as him, and that he shouldn’t be so worried about him. You were just being nice, he shouldn’t be so hard on himself. He’s about to head out with you before Poe stops you.

“Hey, I could use your help with something, you must have a lot of experience as a Jedi,” Poe asks.

“Sure, what is it?” You question.

“A mission, we’d leave tomorrow. We need to scout out a possible new base since the First Order has our location now, I could use a copilot,” Poe offers.

“Uh, I’m not really the best pilot, I can help with other things though,” You respond, you still want to help.

“I can copilot,” Ben jumps in. “Ben I don’t think-“ You whisper to him but he shushes you.

“I don’t know if the General will agree to this but I’m fine with it,” Poe interrupts.

“I’m an adult, let me help,” Ben demands. “Okay.” Poe lifts up his hands in resignation. You’re annoyed that Ben interrupted you, but you couldn’t really stop him.

“Alright, we leave tomorrow evening,” Poe informs. You and Ben nod to him in acknowledgement, then making your way to dinner.

At dinner a bunch of women and a few men come up to you and Ben, beginning to excitedly ask Ben a whole list of questions. Ben doesn’t really want to answer them; he just wanted to eat with you in peace. The fame that he once strived on had quickly become annoying.

“Ben what’s it like being the son of the General?”, “Ben how did you defeat all of your pursuers?”, or “Ben where did you find the time to get such big biceps?” That last one made you almost choke on your water from laughter. Ben glared at you and you finally made up some excuse to get him out of there.

“I thought you liked all the attention?” You teased.

“No way that was horrible,” He grumbled. You make it back to Ben’s room where he immediately takes of his shirt and pants, before collapsing on the bed. “Okay,” is all you can say to that. Guess you were sleeping with Ben again, but first shower.

When you came back Ben was asleep, all spread out so that he left little room for you to lie down. You rolled him over so that you could lay down, but as soon as you got comfortable Ben moved over and wrapped himself around you. You didn’t mind much though, he was warm like another set of blankets, and you quickly drifted off to sleep.

A/N: This story is getting close to the end, I plan on having a fluffy end then a smutty chapter afterwards, thanks to those who have been reading and sticking with this story. Your comments, likes, reblogs all have helped me get past writer’s blocks and helped me keep up with this story, so thanks because this is a passion project of mine and I’m glad that you guys love Ben Amidala as much as I do.

#dream on senator #ben amidala #ben solo #ben solo x reader #renne writes

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samanthasroberts · 7 years

Text

The Fat Jewâ€™s ‘Money Pizza Respect’ is the worst book Iâ€™ve ever read

I wish I liked the Fat Jews new book. It would make a far more interesting piece if he exceeded our expectations. No one I talked to expected it to be good. I bet he didnt even write it, said one friend. I bet he had his interns write it.

To contextualize this for people who arent on the Internet all the time, Josh The Fat Jew Ostrovsky became the center of controversy when he was accused of stealing memes and jokes from comedians this summer. Ostrovsky had been doing this for years, and amassed millions of Instagram followers with his admittedly excellent meme aggregating skills. But comedians took a stand when he signed with the talent agency CAA in August.

Upon reading Money Pizza Respect, there is no doubt in my mind that the unfortunately titled book is penned by the Fat Jew himself; I confidently assert that MoneyPizza Respect is singlehandedly the worst book I have ever read.

His actual sense of humorand Im talking about humor, not the memes he aggregatesis painfully abject. He relies on a Tucker Max-esque style of storytelling, glorifying cocaine and alcohol abuse and fucking his groupies, who all embody a different type of crazy girl stereotype.

In a chapter ironically titled The Eleven Commandments of Not Being the Worst Person Ever, he warns readers that if you aggressively and frequently talk about your sex life, people will think youre gay. When you tell me that you tackled a slam pig and stuffed her axe wound, he writes, I assume that your actual goal is having anal sex with men. Ostrovsky makes sure to note that the only exception to this rule is Dan Bilzerian, who has literally thrown a woman off his roof, breaking her foot, and been accused of kicking another woman in the face.

Money Pizza Respect is laced with homophobic comments. He writes a note to P. Diddy: Sorry for outing you as a homosexual. Im pretty sure you are, but Im sorry. Theres also a healthy dose of sexism, describing his female groupies as a bunch of fours and fives who have giant lady hands hate their dads. To complete the trifecta, he also manages to be transphobic, referring to transgender women as trannies in a chapter chronicling his brothers bachelor party. (When his brother and friends found out the strippers who were giving them lap dances were trans, they left the club immediately.)

Before I met Ostrovsky, I was confused about how he was so successful, especially after reading his book, where he brags about his selfish and generally gross behavior at every possible moment, proudly displays pictures of him wearing a thong made out of beef jerky, and writes things like, Cocaine is the greatest gift the world has ever seen.

When I sat down with him at a press junket, located at an arcade in Chinatown, I immediately understood why hes garnered so much success. He is unfortunately charming and is actually a naturally funny person. Hes like the cool, mean boy in 8th grade, the type who introduced pot to all your friends and made fun of girls for being ugly or not having boobs yet. The type who definitely bullied me, and yet I tirelessly tried to gain his affection.

During our interview, Ostrovsky remained on the defensive, masterful at answering my questions with non-answers. He is somebody who has never taken life seriously, which is perhaps not too difficult for a straight, white, affluent male. He is fundamentally interested in his conception of fun, and hopes youll join him for the ride. If not, fuck off.

Its not that I began to like Ostrovsky or his book any more after meeting him, but I went from hating him to feeling an iota of pity for him. His flamboyant and unapologetic immaturity, his bratty affect: This is what has brought him success, and what I imagine will be his inevitable downfall.

So my approach for this interview, because I know a lot of people have been shitting on you, is to not shit on you.

No ones been shitting on me.

I was curious about how that affected you emotionally, and how you felt about getting blasted by the media.

It was definitely a shitty situation. Im of the Internet, so its like a lot of people screaming about things. I respect trolling. I respect people screaming at one another, which is why the Internet is so fucking great. I definitely didnt take it personally. It was also something that needed to get talked about. People were not on the same page. Like a 38-year-old comedy writer and a 16-year-old Filipino millennial were not seeing the issue the same way.

I try to look at it like I was the face of the whole thing. I mean the Internet is a giant, lawless fuckin thing. Sometimes we need some rules But not too many. Because that would be weird. No parents. But you know, sometimes people get pissed. I obviously see it from the 16-year-old Filipino millennial side. I dont look for credit on my stuff and I dont ever watermark or anything like that, but I also get the other side too. Im old enough to understand both sides. I just want everyone to be happy so were fuckin partying.

Instagram for fucking photos of dogs playing volleyball in sunglasses and iguanas surfing. I just want to have everyone get heard, fix the problem, and then get back to surfing iguanas. It didnt rock me emotionally because I just saw it as something that needed to be discussed. It definitely got dangerous and exciting at some points. People just get so crazy, theres a portion of people who dont even know what theyre screaming about. I got chased by TMZ. Some guy followed me around a Duane Reade recording my phone call. That was tight.

You liked that?

I kinda felt like Leo , for like a second. It was also scary. No one wants that life. I was trying to look at it like this is a conversation that needed to be had. I didnt look at it as being shit on. The Internet is more important to me than my family or anything. I would love to be with the Internet, have sex with the Internet, I love the Internet. Now its a better place.

Why was it important for you to celebrate drugs, specifically cocaine, in your book?

Its a mixed bag. I refer to it as the best and worst thing ever. Part of the ethos of this book is that its a how-to guide in that its like I dont know what you should be doing but I know what you shouldnt be doing. Ive seen every horrible thing. I basically think you read this book and you dont do coke. Because youre like, its gonna make me unbearable. Like my breath is gonna smell like a diaper and get into a super intense conversation about stuff I dont even care about.

I think it depends on how old the reader is. For me, Ive done coke so I understood more where you were coming from in that it can be great and terrible at the same time. From a teenagers standpoint, it might just look really cool.

It depends. Im pretty explicit that its been responsible for the greatest things that ever happened, but also some of the most horrendous things, too. I think its more self-reflective than it is encouraging.

Your book is provocative is many ways. People are going to interpret some of the content as transphobic and homophobic. I was thinking of the chapter where you refer to trans women as trannies.

I dont know what youre specifically referring to.

You wrote about tranny strippers. Thats a contentious word. Many trans people have spoken out about how hurtful they find that term to be. I was curious about how you would respond to those critics.

is a factual account of what happened. Youre talking about an actual pejorative word?

Yeah. Its a slur. There were a bunch of moments in the book where I read something and immediately thought about how angry it would make social justice activists on the Internet.

Social justice people are angry at everything.

I was wondering if you included some things specifically to be provocative.

No, definitely not. First of all, any social justice person can come at me at any time. I literally have more transgender friends who will vouch for me than anyone. They self-identify as trannies. Ask a transgender who is not a nerd from the Internet how they identify, and I bet you will find hundreds who identify as trannies.

I know transgender folks who identify that way. Its like the N-word. If they call themselves that, its OK. But having a cis person is a different story.

Any person who would find offense in that kind of minutia is not someone who should be reading this book.

Its not your audience, thats probably true.

That shouldnt be anyones audience, as far Im concerned.

As I was reading your book, I was thinking about your crazy drug and sex stories as they relate to Tucker Maxs stories from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Was he somebody who influenced you?

No, thats like bro culture stuff. This is completely different.

Tonally, there were similarities.

Ive never read it, but I also think that in terms of this book, like Ive been living performance art long enough to write a book full of debaucherous stories, but I wanted to go with more pathos, truth. From what I understand from Tucker Maxs stuff, he doesnt really go into too much stuff like that. Not all the stories here are particularly turnt up, as far as Im concerned. There are some that are honest family stories, not every story is about partying.

But a lot of them are.

We can go through it When I was writing it, putting in some emotion and truth, and some real feeling on it, like talking about my mom having sex with Shel Silverstein and being a 9-year-old child actor diva. Shit like that, to me, that is not the same as walking around a bar with a breathalyzer . I dont not relate to it, but Ive never read any of his stuff.

Ostrovsky as a child actor Josh Ostrovsky

Do you differentiate between the Fat Jew as your performative character and yourself as Josh?

No. I dont go home at night and unscrew the hairection , sit down, and listen to This American Life and be like, Oh, what a hard day at work! Being the Fat Jew! No, its all one in the same. To me, that would be disingenuous. I was doing this stuff long before there was anywhere to share it, long before anyone knew about it. Ten years ago, people in New York would be like, Oh thats the Fat Jew, the guy who does crazy stuff. It wasnt something I created and cultivated in order to share on social media for the masses.

But this is your career, this is your passion, but a lot of artists and actors differentiate between their performative self, which is still their self, and who they are when theyre not performing.

Im not an artist or an actor. Im neither.

How do you identify?

Im the only one whos really just going for it. Im genuinely making it up as I go along. I could start a ros company and that could become a real thing. Im about to do the worlds first EDM cologne.

What is that gonna smell like?

I dont know. Thats a good question. Like I dont even know what that means but Im gonna do it. Its 2015. Anything is possible. The world is so ridiculous at this point. I might open a yoga ashram in Toronto. Who knows? Im one of the only people who doesnt consider anything on or off limits. I dont think that it can be defined. We have this human need to compartmentalize, to be like, What are you? But I dont know.

I guess its my job to say, as a writer trying to make sense of what you do.

I dont think theres anything to make sense of. I dont know. What do you think I do?

I think youre a content creator and performer.

Thats vague. But yeah. Im not not. But thats what Im saying. I like to keep people guessing, keep people off kilter. If people think Im a comedian, I will move in a totally different direction and start making cologne. I wanna make people go, What the fuck? Keeping people guessing, keeping genuine conversation going about me, whether its, I dont want to say the word negative, but whatever its gonna be, thats what I am. A conversation starter? I dont know.

Tastemaker?

Conversation piece? Idiot? All of the above?

Whats your goal with your book? Why do you do what you do? Aside from the fact that you just want to do it.

The end goal with the book is that I think I can get some turnt-up 18-year-old to read. Thats the challenge, like, can you get fuckin some kids to read and think its really fuckin chill? Is that doable? Ill literally do it just for that.

Were doing reading raves to promote the book. IRL is what the programs called. Its just like huge DJs and books. Like, can you make them read? I think its doable. I dont think publishing knows how to do it. I dont think parents know how to do it.

So you want to make reading cool?

Kind of. What if Im somehow the guy to do it?

What are your favorite books?

I love Shel Silverstein, and not only because my mom fucked him. Mostly, Im the type to read 100 listicles. Like, what kind of bagel is Rihanna? You know what I mean? One-hundred times Rihanna ate fruit. Im not reading enough books.

No ones reading enough books.

Maybe now? That would fucking weird. To get a fucking 17-year-old whos over it to sit down and read an entire book? I mean I put in some stuff to break up the chapters, like you can color in a picture of Tyrese. I mean, I dont want you to have to read too much.

Illustration by Max Fleishman

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I went to the Rentboy liquidation sale, and all I got was this amazing escort swag

After a massive federal raid, Rentboy had to sell its entire office on Craigslist to pay its lawyers.

By Mary Emily O'Hara — November 02, 2015

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/

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adambstingus · 7 years

Text

The Fat Jewâ€™s ‘Money Pizza Respect’ is the worst book Iâ€™ve ever read

So my approach for this interview, because I know a lot of people have been shitting on you, is to not shit on you.

No ones been shitting on me.

I was curious about how that affected you emotionally, and how you felt about getting blasted by the media.

You liked that?

Why was it important for you to celebrate drugs, specifically cocaine, in your book?

Your book is provocative is many ways. People are going to interpret some of the content as transphobic and homophobic. I was thinking of the chapter where you refer to trans women as trannies.

I dont know what youre specifically referring to.

You wrote about tranny strippers. Thats a contentious word. Many trans people have spoken out about how hurtful they find that term to be. I was curious about how you would respond to those critics.

is a factual account of what happened. Youre talking about an actual pejorative word?

Yeah. Its a slur. There were a bunch of moments in the book where I read something and immediately thought about how angry it would make social justice activists on the Internet.

Social justice people are angry at everything.

I was wondering if you included some things specifically to be provocative.

I know transgender folks who identify that way. Its like the N-word. If they call themselves that, its OK. But having a cis person is a different story.

Any person who would find offense in that kind of minutia is not someone who should be reading this book.

Its not your audience, thats probably true.

That shouldnt be anyones audience, as far Im concerned.

As I was reading your book, I was thinking about your crazy drug and sex stories as they relate to Tucker Maxs stories from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Was he somebody who influenced you?

No, thats like bro culture stuff. This is completely different.

Tonally, there were similarities.

But a lot of them are.

Ostrovsky as a child actor Josh Ostrovsky

Do you differentiate between the Fat Jew as your performative character and yourself as Josh?

But this is your career, this is your passion, but a lot of artists and actors differentiate between their performative self, which is still their self, and who they are when theyre not performing.

Im not an artist or an actor. Im neither.

How do you identify?

Im the only one whos really just going for it. Im genuinely making it up as I go along. I could start a ros company and that could become a real thing. Im about to do the worlds first EDM cologne.

What is that gonna smell like?

I guess its my job to say, as a writer trying to make sense of what you do.

I dont think theres anything to make sense of. I dont know. What do you think I do?

I think youre a content creator and performer.

Tastemaker?

Conversation piece? Idiot? All of the above?

Whats your goal with your book? Why do you do what you do? Aside from the fact that you just want to do it.

So you want to make reading cool?

Kind of. What if Im somehow the guy to do it?

What are your favorite books?

No ones reading enough books.

Illustration by Max Fleishman

Popular on The Daily Dot

I went to the Rentboy liquidation sale, and all I got was this amazing escort swag

After a massive federal raid, Rentboy had to sell its entire office on Craigslist to pay its lawyers.

By Mary Emily O'Hara — November 02, 2015

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/165493432272

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allofbeercom · 7 years

Text

The Fat Jewâ€™s ‘Money Pizza Respect’ is the worst book Iâ€™ve ever read

So my approach for this interview, because I know a lot of people have been shitting on you, is to not shit on you.

No ones been shitting on me.

I was curious about how that affected you emotionally, and how you felt about getting blasted by the media.

You liked that?

Why was it important for you to celebrate drugs, specifically cocaine, in your book?

Your book is provocative is many ways. People are going to interpret some of the content as transphobic and homophobic. I was thinking of the chapter where you refer to trans women as trannies.

I dont know what youre specifically referring to.

You wrote about tranny strippers. Thats a contentious word. Many trans people have spoken out about how hurtful they find that term to be. I was curious about how you would respond to those critics.

is a factual account of what happened. Youre talking about an actual pejorative word?

Yeah. Its a slur. There were a bunch of moments in the book where I read something and immediately thought about how angry it would make social justice activists on the Internet.

Social justice people are angry at everything.

I was wondering if you included some things specifically to be provocative.

I know transgender folks who identify that way. Its like the N-word. If they call themselves that, its OK. But having a cis person is a different story.

Any person who would find offense in that kind of minutia is not someone who should be reading this book.

Its not your audience, thats probably true.

That shouldnt be anyones audience, as far Im concerned.

As I was reading your book, I was thinking about your crazy drug and sex stories as they relate to Tucker Maxs stories from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Was he somebody who influenced you?

No, thats like bro culture stuff. This is completely different.

Tonally, there were similarities.

But a lot of them are.

Ostrovsky as a child actor Josh Ostrovsky

Do you differentiate between the Fat Jew as your performative character and yourself as Josh?

But this is your career, this is your passion, but a lot of artists and actors differentiate between their performative self, which is still their self, and who they are when theyre not performing.

Im not an artist or an actor. Im neither.

How do you identify?

Im the only one whos really just going for it. Im genuinely making it up as I go along. I could start a ros company and that could become a real thing. Im about to do the worlds first EDM cologne.

What is that gonna smell like?

I guess its my job to say, as a writer trying to make sense of what you do.

I dont think theres anything to make sense of. I dont know. What do you think I do?

I think youre a content creator and performer.

Tastemaker?

Conversation piece? Idiot? All of the above?

Whats your goal with your book? Why do you do what you do? Aside from the fact that you just want to do it.

So you want to make reading cool?

Kind of. What if Im somehow the guy to do it?

What are your favorite books?

No ones reading enough books.

Illustration by Max Fleishman

Popular on The Daily Dot

I went to the Rentboy liquidation sale, and all I got was this amazing escort swag

After a massive federal raid, Rentboy had to sell its entire office on Craigslist to pay its lawyers.

By Mary Emily O'Hara — November 02, 2015

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/

0 notes

jimdsmith34 · 7 years

Text

The Fat Jewâ€™s ‘Money Pizza Respect’ is the worst book Iâ€™ve ever read

So my approach for this interview, because I know a lot of people have been shitting on you, is to not shit on you.

No ones been shitting on me.

I was curious about how that affected you emotionally, and how you felt about getting blasted by the media.

You liked that?

Why was it important for you to celebrate drugs, specifically cocaine, in your book?

Your book is provocative is many ways. People are going to interpret some of the content as transphobic and homophobic. I was thinking of the chapter where you refer to trans women as trannies.

I dont know what youre specifically referring to.

You wrote about tranny strippers. Thats a contentious word. Many trans people have spoken out about how hurtful they find that term to be. I was curious about how you would respond to those critics.

is a factual account of what happened. Youre talking about an actual pejorative word?

Yeah. Its a slur. There were a bunch of moments in the book where I read something and immediately thought about how angry it would make social justice activists on the Internet.

Social justice people are angry at everything.

I was wondering if you included some things specifically to be provocative.

I know transgender folks who identify that way. Its like the N-word. If they call themselves that, its OK. But having a cis person is a different story.

Any person who would find offense in that kind of minutia is not someone who should be reading this book.

Its not your audience, thats probably true.

That shouldnt be anyones audience, as far Im concerned.

As I was reading your book, I was thinking about your crazy drug and sex stories as they relate to Tucker Maxs stories from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Was he somebody who influenced you?

No, thats like bro culture stuff. This is completely different.

Tonally, there were similarities.

But a lot of them are.

Ostrovsky as a child actor Josh Ostrovsky

Do you differentiate between the Fat Jew as your performative character and yourself as Josh?

But this is your career, this is your passion, but a lot of artists and actors differentiate between their performative self, which is still their self, and who they are when theyre not performing.

Im not an artist or an actor. Im neither.

How do you identify?

Im the only one whos really just going for it. Im genuinely making it up as I go along. I could start a ros company and that could become a real thing. Im about to do the worlds first EDM cologne.

What is that gonna smell like?

I guess its my job to say, as a writer trying to make sense of what you do.

I dont think theres anything to make sense of. I dont know. What do you think I do?

I think youre a content creator and performer.

Tastemaker?

Conversation piece? Idiot? All of the above?

Whats your goal with your book? Why do you do what you do? Aside from the fact that you just want to do it.

So you want to make reading cool?

Kind of. What if Im somehow the guy to do it?

What are your favorite books?

No ones reading enough books.

Illustration by Max Fleishman

Popular on The Daily Dot

I went to the Rentboy liquidation sale, and all I got was this amazing escort swag

After a massive federal raid, Rentboy had to sell its entire office on Craigslist to pay its lawyers.

By Mary Emily O'Hara — November 02, 2015

source http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/19/the-fat-jewaes-money-pizza-respect-is-the-worst-book-iaeve-ever-read/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2017/09/the-fat-jewas-money-pizza-respect-is.html

0 notes

caredogstips · 7 years

Text

The Fat JewaEUR( tm) s ‘Money Pizza Respect’ is the worst notebook IaEUR( tm) ve ever spoke

I wish I liked the Fat Jews new notebook. It would make a far more interesting bit if he surpassed our anticipations. No one I talked to expected it to be good. I gambling he didnt even write it, said one sidekick. I bet he had his interns write it.

To contextualize this for people who arent on the Internet all the time, Josh The Fat Jew Ostrovsky became the center of controversy when he was accused of stealing memes and jokes from humorists this summer. Ostrovsky had been doing this for years, and amassed millions of Instagram admirers with his admittedly good meme aggregating skills. But comedians took a stand when he signed with the flair bureau CAA in August.

Upon interpret Money Pizza Respect , there is no doubt in my knowledge that the unfortunately entitled work is written by the Fat Jew himself; I confidently assert that Money Pizza Respect is singlehandedly the most difficult journal I have ever read.

His actual sense of humorand Im talking about humor , not the memes he aggregatesis dreadfully abject. He relies on a Tucker Max-esque style of storytelling, praising cocaine and alcohol abuse and fucking his groupies, who all represent a different type of crazy daughter stereotype.

In a section ironically titled The Eleven Commandments of Not Being the Worst Person Ever, he counsels readers that if you aggressively and frequently talk about your sexuality life, people will think youre gay. When you tell me that you undertook a slam pig and stuffed her axe wind, he writes, I assume that your actual destination is having anal sexuality with soldiers. Ostrovsky shapes sure to note that the only exception to this rule is Dan Bilzerian, who has literally thrown a woman off his roof, smashing her foot, and been accused of kicking another woman in the look.

Money Pizza Respect is fastened with homophobic statements. He writes a greenback to P. Diddy: Sorry for outing you as a homosexual. Im pretty sure you are, but Im sorry. Theres too a health dosage of sexism, describing his female groupies as a bunch of fours and fives who have monstrous maid sides detest their daddies. To accomplish the trifecta, he likewise manages to be transphobic, referring to transgender maidens as trannies in a section recounting two brothers bachelor party.( When two brothers and pals found out the strippers “whos” causing them lap dances were trans, they left the club immediately .)

Before I satisfied Ostrovsky, I was confused about how he was so successful, especially after reading his book, where he brags about his selfish and generally gross behaviour at every possible instant, proudly presentations pictures of him wearing a thong made out of beef jerky, and writes situations like, Cocaine is the greatest talent the world has ever seen.

When I sat down with him at a press junket, located at an arcade in Chinatown, I immediately understood why hes garnered so much success. He is unfortunately alluring and is actually a naturally funny person. Hes like the refrigerate, mean son in 8th point, the different types who inserted cup to all your best friend and attained merriment of girls for being ugly or not having boobs hitherto. The form who definitely bullied me, and hitherto I tirelessly tried to gain his affection.

During our interview, Ostrovsky remained on the defensive, masterful at answering my doubts with non-answers. He is somebody who has never taken life seriously, which is perhaps not too difficult for a straight, white, affluent male. He is basically interested in his conception of fun, and hopes youll connect him for the travel. If not, fuck off.

Its not that I began to like Ostrovsky or his book any more after converging him, but I extended from disliking him to appearing an iota of sorrow for him. His ostentatiou and unapologetic immaturity, his bratty affect: This is what has brought him success, and what I imagine will be his inevitable downfall.

So my approaching for this interview, because I know a lot of beings have been shitting on you, is to not shit on you .

No ones been shitting on me.

I was curious about how that affected you emotionally, and how you appeared about getting blasted by the media .

It was certainly a shitty situation. Im of the Internet, so its like a lot of beings screaming about thoughts. I respect trolling. I respect beings hollering at one another, which is why the Internet is so fucking great. I definitely didnt take it personally. It was also something that it was necessary to get talked about. Parties were not on the same sheet. Like a 38 -year-old comedy writer and a 16 -year-old Filipino millennial were not considering the questions the same way.

I try to look at it like I was the look of the whole stuff. I intend the Internet is a giant, lawless fuckin thing. Sometimes the work requires some rules But not too many. Because this is gonna be odd. No parents. But you know, sometimes beings get pissed. I undoubtedly see it from the 16 -year-old Filipino millennial back. I dont look for recognition on my nonsense and I dont ever watermark or anything like that, but I likewise get the other side extremely. Im old enough to understand both sides. I exactly miss everyone to be happy so were fuckin partying.

Instagram for fucking photos of puppies playing volleyball in sunglasses and iguanas surfing. I precisely want to have everyone get listen, set the problem, and then get back to surfing iguanas. It didnt rock me emotionally because I merely understood it as something that needed to be discussed. It definitely went hazardous and exciting at some points. Beings just get fucking crazy, theres a portion of those individuals who dont even know what theyre calling about. I get chased by TMZ. Some person followed me around a Duane Reade preserving my phone call. That was tight.

You liked that ?

I kinda felt like Leo, for like two seconds. It was also scary. No one wants that life. I was trying to look at it like this is a conversation that needed to be had. I didnt look at it as being shit on. The Internet is more important to me than their own families or anything. I would love to be with the Internet, have sex with the Internet, I affection the Internet. Now its a better place.

Why was it important for you to celebrate medicines, specifically cocaine, in your volume ?

Its a mixed bag. I refer to it as the best and worst event ever. Persona of the ethos of this notebook is that its a how-to guide in that its like I dont know what you should be doing but I know what you shouldnt be doing. Ive determined every horrible act. I basically think you read this book and you dont do coke. Because youre like, its gonna establish me unbearable. Like my breath is gonna smell like a napkin and get into a super intense exchange about trash I dont even care about.

I think it depends on how old-time the reader is. For me, Ive done coke so I understood more where you were coming from in that it can be great and appalling at the same age. From a girls position, it might just appear very cool .

It depends. Im pretty explicit that its been responsible for the greatest happenings that ever happened, but likewise some of the most terrifying happenings, very. I think its more self-reflective than it is encouraging.

Your notebook is provocative is many channels. Parties are going to interpret some of the content as transphobic and homophobic. I was thinking of the assembly whatever it is you refer to trans women as trannies .

I dont know what youre specific referring to.

You wrote about tranny strippers. Thats a contentious statement. Numerous trans parties have spoken out about how injurious they find that term to be. I was curious about how you would respond to those reviewers .

is a factual account of what happened. Youre talking about an actual pejorative statement?

Yeah. Its a insult. There were a bunch of moments in the book where I speak something and immediately thought about how angry it would realize social right activists on the Internet.

Social justice parties are angry at everything.

I was wondering if you included some things specific to be provocative .

No, obviously not. First of all, any social justice being can come at me at any time. I literally have more transgender pals who will vouch for me than anyone else. They self-identify as trannies. Request a transgender who is not a geek from the Internet how they identify, and I bet you will find hundreds who mark as trannies.

I know transgender tribes who determine that lane. Its like the N-word. If they call themselves that, its OK. But having a cis person is a different story .

Any person who would find offense in that kind of minutia is not someone who should be reading this book.

Its not your audience, thats possibly true-life.

That shouldnt be anyones gathering, as far Im concerned.

As I was speaking your volume, I was thinking about your crazy narcotic and sexuality storeys as they are linked to Tucker Max s legends from I Hope They Suffice Beer in Hell . Was he somebody who affected you ?

No, thats like bro culture stuff. This is completely different.

Tonally, there were similarities .

Ive never read it, but I also think that in terms of this notebook, like Ive been living concert prowes long enough to write a book full of debaucherous narrations, but I wanted to go with more pathos, true. From what I understand from Tucker Maxs stuff, he doesnt actually move into too much trash like that. Not all the fibs here are particularly turnt up, as far as Im concerned. There are some that are honest lineage floors , not every narration is about partying.

But a lot of them are .

We can go through it When I was writing it, putting in some ardour and truth, and some real appear on it, like speak about my mummy having sex with Shel Silverstein and being a 9-year-old offspring performer diva. Shit like that, to me, that is not the same as walking around a bar with a breathalyzer. I dont not relate to it, but Ive never read any of his stuff.

Ostrovsky as small children actor Josh Ostrovsky

Do you differentiate between the Fat Jew as your performative character and yourself as Josh ?

No. I dont going to go at night and unscrew the hairection, sit down, and listen to This American Life and be like, Oh, what a hard daylight at work! Being the Fat Jew! No, its all one in the same. To me, this is gonna be disingenuous. I was doing this stuff long before there was anywhere to share it, long before anyone knew about it. Ten years ago, people in New York would be like, Oh thats the Fat Jew, the guy who does crazy stuff. It wasnt something I created and raised in order to share on social media for the masses.

But this is your career, this is your joy, but a lot of artists and performers differentiate between their performative ego, which is still their ego, and who they are when theyre not playing .

Im not an master or relevant actors. Im neither.

How do you link ?

Im the only one whos really just going for it. Im genuinely forming it up as I go along. I could start a ros companionship and that could become a real thing. Im about to do the worlds firstly EDM cologne.

What is that gonna aroma like ?

I dont know. Thats a good inquiry. Like I dont even just knowing that that entails but Im gonna do it. Its 2015. Anything is possible. The world-wide is so ridiculous at this extent. I might open a yoga ashram in Toronto. Who knows? Im one of the only people who doesnt consider anything on or off limits. I dont think that it can be defined. We have this human need to compartmentalize, to be like, What are you? But I dont know.

I guess its my job to mention, as a novelist trying to make sense of what you do.

I dont think theres anything to make sense of. I dont know. What do you think I do?

I think youre a content developer and musician .

Thats vague. But yeah. Im not not. But thats what Im enunciating. I like to keep parties approximating, obstruct people off kilter. If people suppose Im a comedian, I will move in a totally different direction and start seeing cologne. I wanna build people move, What the fuck? Maintaining parties guessing, remaining genuine gossip running about me, whether its, I dont want to say the word negative, but whatever its gonna be, thats what I am. A communication starter? I dont know.

Tastemaker ?

Conversation piece? Idiot? All of the above?

Whats your goal with your work? Why do you do what you do? Aside given the fact that you exactly want to do it .

The end goal with the book is that I remember I can get some turnt-up 18 -year-old to read. Thats the challenge, like, can you get fuckin some kids to read and think its genuinely fuckin cold? Is that doable? Ill literally do it just for that.

Were doing speaking raves to promote the book. IRL is what the programs called. Its just like gigantic DJs and works. Like, can you stimulate them read? I think its doable. I dont thoughts writing knows how to do it. I dont think mothers know how to do it.

So you want to realize say chill ?

Kind of. What if Im somehow the person to do it?

What are your favorite journals ?

I ardour Shel Silverstein, and not only because my mom fucked him. Mostly, Im the type to read 100 listicles. Like, what kind of bagel is Rihanna? You know what I entail? One-hundred times Rihanna ate fruit. Im not speaking enough books.

No ones reading enough journals .

Maybe now? That would fucking funny. To get a fucking 17 -year-old whos over it to sit down and read an entire journal? I symbolize I put in some trash to break up the chapters, like you can color in a picture of Tyrese. I symbolize, I dont want you to have to read too much.

Illustration by Max Fleishman

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