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andoqin · 3 years

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C-Novel Rec

So, I have a Deep Abiding Love for Chinese Webnovels, but not often do I get one that actually gets me deep in my heart in a way where I think about it after I’m done and so I wanted to talk about it a little here.

The novel I want to talk about is called Rebirth of a Star General (重生之女将星) , by Qian Shan Cha Ke (千山茶客). If you’ve read (hetero) c-novels, you might know her name, since she also wrote the novel Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage, which is almost a classic in this kind of rebirth genre.

This Rec/Review/overlong essay is going to contain spoilers, so if you’re completely allergic to those I’ll just give you my TL;DR here: I preferred it a lot over RMEML.

Now to my endless wall of words:

Rebirth of the Star General is pretty much what it says on the tin, main character He Yan, is a famous general in her own right, but no one knows about it because she was only the stand-in for her sickly brother. When her brother grew up and was no longer sick, the family decided that he should receive the military honors she had earned and she would be married off. This was possible thanks to the fact she had always worn a mask, so as not to be discovered.<o:p></o:p>

He Yan was not entirely happy with this decision, but she thought she would make the best of it. Of course, it gets worse because not even a year into her marriage she is first poisoned and then blind as a result and later murdered by her cousin, a concubine of her husband.

She gets reborn as He Yan, beloved and spoiled daughter of a city guard and vows revenge, both on her former husband and on her family, but most of all she longs to become a general again, but this time under her own name and with acknowledgement of her being a female general.

If you want your rebirth novels to include lots of face slapping or intricate revenge plotting, this is not the novel for you, since soon after she is reborn, she kills a guy out of self-defense and when his family and the city guard are after her she uses this chance to enlist in the army, disguised as a man.

This is where she meets her arch-rival in her previous life, a man so gorgeous, once again entire paragraphs are filled trying to describe his magnificent beauty - a hallmark of this author if I ever saw one. She decides she will use this chance anyway, her knowledge of military tactics and her knowledge of her rival (and former classmate) possibly being beneficial in this case.

The author makes it a point to emphasise that He Yan struggles initially to keep up with the military training, since she is now inhabiting the body of a woman who does not have experience with hard work and that she has to work twice as hard to be even mediocre, in the beginning. Obviously mediocrity does not lead to quick military advancement, so her getting incredibly fit very quickly anyway is not very realistic, but even before she had enlisted, He Yan had trained her new body and she has many years of experience as to how to get better and fighting experience, so I gave the novel a pass on that one.

Up to this point the novel was entertaining, but it didn’t really grip me too hard, although I was impatient enough to MTL it, but as the story goes along He Yan really developed into one of my favourite c-novel heroines ever. So often in novels like this, the female character is treated as exceptional and all other women are dumb bitches, often just in the way of our main couple and dispatched accordingly. But He Yan does not treat other women like this and over the course of the novel builds lasting connections with all sorts of women.

And then there is the scene that made me go: okay yeah, this is going right up the favourite list.

He Yan meets up with the Second Male Lead (who never really is a serious threat to the OTP, He Yan only ever sees him as a friend and somewhat nice guy) and he tries the “oh you’re so unique and special, no other woman is like you” speech, but He Yan stops him and rips into him and the patriarchy in such a beautiful way, that even MTL doesn’t hamper:

"A-He is very different from ordinary women."

He Yan looked at her, "What's different?"

Chu Zhao continued to walk forward, his voice still soft: "Most women, even though they are faced with such a predicament, are already numb and indifferent, and do not think as much as Ah He does. If A-He is thinking about them now, it is very likely that they wont enjoy it, and they will even complain that you are meddling in their affairs."

He laughed: "This sounds a bit condescending."

Chu Zhao smiled, "Why do you say that?"

"The court is a man's court, the world's affairs are a man's world affairs, even when studying in the battlefield, it is men who are the only ones who have the grace. It is so unreasonable that men take advantage of the world, but in turn blame women for being numb-minded and unmotivated, what is this if not superiority?"

"Brother Chu thinks that I am different from ordinary women because I have studied, I have left the house, and I even went to the military camp. But if you let those women be like me, who have seen the snow of Liangzhou Wei, the water of Jiyang City, the long moon of the desert, the rivers and mountains, do you think they would still be willing to be trapped in a jealous mansion, would they still be complacent and numb and foolish?"

She smiled a little bit like Xiao Jue, "I think the men in the world are worried about this, so they have set up many ridiculous rules to bind women, breaking their wings with the three rules and five rules, and using those unwarranted 'virtuous wives and beautiful women' to judge them. The more foolish they are, the more reassured the men are, and the more they say, 'See, the women are shallow', when they are the ones who caused it!"

"Because they also know that once women are given the chance to 'choose', they will never become a vase in the harem with their hands outstretched waiting to be fed by their husbands. Those good women would become generals, chivalrous men, scribes, staff, and compete with them for the grace of the world, and they, in turn, might not win."

The girl's eyes were as clear as the water in the springtime of Ji Yang City, transparent and clear, seeing clearly and distinctly, as if they could reflect the most splendid daylight.

He was always able to speak well and would not bring the atmosphere to an awkward point, but at this moment he did not know what to say. It was as if there was nothing he could say to refute the person in front of him. It was clearly a ridiculous, insouciant, naive and annoyingly righteous statement, but it shone out the shadow of a human being, with nothing to hide.

He was also uneven in his heart.

Although pretending to be "He Ru Fei" had brought her a lot of pain in her life, it had also taught her to see sights that many women would never see in their lifetime. If she hadn't pretended to be "He Ru Fei", she would not have known that men could do so much more than women. If you were talented in literature, you could be a bachelor with a full belly, if you were skilled, you could be a general with a good war record. Even if you were mediocre at everything, you could still be the most ordinary man on the street. To put it mildly, even at the Raketongzhuang, women were gambling prostitutes and men were gamblers.

It was only because she later became "Madam Xu" and worked as both a man and a woman that she realised that the world treats men and women so differently, that it is not that men do not suffer, but their suffering can be the basis for judging themselves. The women, on the other hand, spend their lives waiting for the men's affirmation of their hardships.

It is obvious that they are both born as human beings, but who is more noble than the other? It is ridiculous that some men still look down on girls from the bottom of their hearts, which makes people speechless.

and this is when the author pretty much states why He Yan would never be with SML

Chu Zhao and Xiao Jue were, after all, not the same. With women, they both considered them weak and unable to protect themselves. But the former's judgement had a hint of negativity and condescension in it, while the latter, as evidenced by the treatment of the female corpse in the Sun family's backyard in Liangzhou City, had more to do with pity.

And I loved that so much??? Yes, both the ML and SML have patriarchical attitudes towards women, but for He Yan there is a subtle and important difference. And this continues to be a theme throughout the book. One woman later keeps telling her son “Don’t underestimate women!” to later add, after He Yan has become a female general in her own right, under her own name, that He Yan might not be the only female general, there will be two, three or even more.

The romance is of the very, very slow variety and the main couple doesn’t even get together until the last quarter of the novel, officially, but before that we have all sorts of delicious fake relationship, cohabitation and other delightful tropey shenanigans.

The slow romance and relatively easy way the revenge is dealt out might mean this is not for everyone, but if you’re into a nice novel about a woman realising her goals, with a man who will always support her by her side, this might be for you.

And yes, she continues to lead armies after they are married :D

#rebirth of a star general #i read stuff #rec #novel rec #het novel

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tiaragqueen · 5 years

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At The End Of Her Tether

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Wu Yifan x Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,6k

✂ Trigger Warning: Isolation, possessive behavior, jealousy, slight angst, demeaning nicknames, yandere theme.

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don't believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day! [Edited]

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

"You're reaching out, and no one hears your cry. You're freaking out again, cause all your fears remind you. And all the dream has come undone." - Desperate [David Archuleta]

Two years.

It’s been two fucking years since you left him. Him, the only one who loved you. Him, the only one who cared for you. Him, the only one who knew everything about you.

And him, who sacrificed everything just to be with you. For you.

Kris was a man of few words. That, and his inability to fully express his feelings made him unreadable to others. For these very reasons, many people dubbed him as ‘boring’, ‘too quiet’, and to some extent ‘robot’. It hurt to hear those demeaning nicknames just because he possessed high self-control, especially the latter.

Just because he rarely showed emotions didn’t mean he was a robot. He, like any other humans in the world, had feelings. He did feel angry, sad, content, excited, and sometimes a mixture of all those things. He did feel the emotional rollercoaster sometimes, and he did cry once in a while. It was a shame that very few people realized that, and went on with their shallow judgments. They spread lies to the others to make them believe he was a pathetic loser with no friends. That pathetic loner who had trust issues because he was too cynical.

That pathetic loner with nobody to love, and to be loved.

Kris used to pray for a miracle; for someone to notice how lonely and hurt he was. He’d prayed for someone to befriend him, to go through thick and thin with him, to be loyal to him despite his distant attitude. He didn’t really think about a lover that time, as he considered dating someone to be too much of a stretch.

And God eventually granted his heartfelt wishes.

It was one overcast day – snowdrops falling from the cloudy sky and the atmosphere was bleak overall – during his first encounter with you. You were working as a cashier in some convenience store when a tall man approached the counter. He was buying toiletries and groceries, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the bags under his eyes; definitely bigger and darker than yours. From his appearance, you deduced that he couldn’t definitely be older than twenty. However, his exhausted face made him look like a thirty-or-something.

“Hey, you’re okay?”

Kris glanced up from the iron countertop, finding you staring at him with a concerned mien. Not wanting to waste his time chatting around with some random stranger – and a staff nonetheless – he silently nodded.

“Oh, well,” you coughed into your palm, suddenly became conscious that you might have been a bit rude towards him. “It's just... you look very tired.”

“I didn’t have much sleep last night.” he murmured, voice so soft you almost misheard it.

You frowned. “Well, that’s not good at all. You look younger than me, and yet your face seems like an old man. A jaded old man.”

Curiosity peaked, Kris asked. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.” You bit your bottom lip at the sudden realization. “Oh, man. I just realized how old I am. This is why I avoid talking about age.”

Kris smiled. It was small – you weren’t sure if you saw it had his eyes didn’t soften a little – but it made your heart flutter nonetheless. You always loved bringing a smile on to other people’s faces, no matter how minuscule it might be.

“You know, your smile is very beautiful.”

Caught off guard, Kris snapped his head towards you at a surprising speed. You smiled and maintained steady eye contact, showing him your sincerity. Blood slowly rushed into his cheeks as he bowed in bashfulness.

“Thank you...”

Ever since that day, Kris made an effort to shop in that store more often and talked with you. You also began to exchange your number, leading to deep conversations in the middle of the night. The night where his depression hit him. The night where he couldn’t sleep because he was too busy thinking about you.

What were you doing?

Have you eaten yet?

Did you get enough sleep?

Whenever you were absent or on a vacation, he felt a slight pang in his chest. Kris used to think that it was odd to get attached to a new friend, but after meeting you, he started to consider that maybe – just maybe – you weren’t so bad at all. You were easy-going, understanding, and sympathetic. You never seemed irritated whenever he texted you on ungodly hours or calling you because he was struck with a longing to hear your voice.

That soothing voice that always eased his tensed nerves. That giddy voice when you told him something interesting that happened today. That melodic laugh that echoed in his mind when he made a joke.

Kris never perceived himself as funny, but after listening to you laughed to a corny pun that he made on the spot, he endeavored to be as funny as possible. He wanted to be the reason for your smile, of your laughter, the same way you made him smile that time.

That wish to bring happiness to you eventually blossomed into romantic feelings. He couldn’t help it; you were too precious for him. You had proven yourself as a worthy and loyal friend, and Kris desired a deeper relationship with you. He didn’t want to lose you to anyone else.

Which led him to confess to you.

It took a long time for you to accept his confession. Not because you didn’t like him – you did, yet the sentiment was nothing compared to his – but because you wanted to make sure he wouldn’t cheat on you. That this relationship wouldn’t be a waste of time. You were aware that it was impossible to control people’s feelings, because who knows what would happen a month or a year later? Then again, the chance of him being disloyal to you was slim. But you wanted to ensure things wouldn’t change in the near future.

And Kris held on to his vow. The vow to be a good boyfriend and a best friend, because being in a relationship with you didn’t mean he would stop befriending you. He knew that those two could be very different things depending on the problems that arise.

It was truly a delight to date him. He was a hundred times more caring, kinder, and attentive than he already was. It was like he had developed a sixth sense to detect your wants and negativity that came from day-to-day troubles. You appreciated his efforts to always put your needs above his, even though you had repeatedly told him to think about himself too.

Everything was sunshine and rainbow. You grew to love him even more; his little quirks, attitude, looks, and everything he had offered. However, you had underestimated how jealous he could be given the circumstances. It didn’t matter if you were merely glancing at a random person, he would still take it to the heart.

“Kris, let me out, please! I’ll do anything just please... please don’t lock me in here. Please!”

Your scream and sobs echoed in the otherwise quiet house. Kris leaned against the wall beside the door that led to a room; devoid of any furniture except a single tray that contained your dinner. He didn’t know if you had eaten it yet, seeing as you had passed out from fatigue during the daytime earlier. It was a waste of food, but he was fully aware that all you needed was freedom. A breath of fresh air. Not a small room with the dizzying smell of paint wafting around.

“I'm begging you, Kris, let me out! I’ll promise I won’t talk to him again! I’ll do anything, just please let me out!”

Kris squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears from leaking as he listened to you coughing and whimpering inside. He didn’t want to do this – heck, he was willing to gloss over it – had you didn’t choose to escape.

Then again, if anyone – any sane person – were to look at it through another point of view, it would be understandable if you made such a rash decision. Kris could be cruel if he wanted to, and although his punishment was normally sexual, you refused to lay on the bed crying your heart out. It was enough that you had more than enough time stewing over what had been, over what you had missed.

Just for once, you wanted to be able to independent. You wanted to be free from his suffocating clutch. You wanted a taste of freedom; something that you used to take for granted.

But that choice only turned to bite you back in the end.

The door creaked after you had collapsed from hours of wailing and sobbing. Even though you saw Kris slinking inside, even though you were begging for him less than five minutes ago, you had never been happier at the sight of the light that poured inside the room. It gave you hope that you were still alive – that you didn’t need to be trapped in this hellhole again.

And perhaps, you could regain that freedom you had so carelessly let go in a moment of complacency. No matter how farfetched it might sound. No matter how laughable the mere notion of you escaping his tight hug.

“You promise to be a good girl, right?” he whispered in your ear as he caressed the hair that clung on to your sweaty forehead. “You promise to never leave me again, right? I’d hate to do this for the second time if I see you repeat your mistake.”

Or maybe not.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and buried your tear-stained face against his chest. You were tired. So, so tired it felt like your soul had left your body.

It would be good if that was true. If that could be reality. At least, you never had to deal with him again.

“Yes...”

#yandere kris #yandere kris wu #yandere exo #yandere kpop #yandere kpop au #kpop yandere #yandere exo au #yandere kris x reader #yandere kris wu x reader #yandere exo x reader #yandere wu yifan #yandere wu yifan x reader

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floralseokjin · 6 years

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An unorthodox end to the office’s Christmas party…

pairing | kim seokjin x reader x park jimin genre/warnings | devil! Seokjin, devil! Jimin, smut, threesome, dirty talk words | 8,275

Read the rest of The Devil Wears Armani series here.

The office Christmas party is always mind numbingly boring. You’ve been at the same place for four years now, and each time the festive celebration seems to get worse. It’s fake, all of it. Coworkers pretending to like each other, wishing each other a Merry Christmas with fake ass grins spread across their face. No one wanting Susan to be their Secret Santa because she has just gotten that promotion that about five others had wanted too. Everyone giving Youngseok the silent treatment because it has recently come to light he’s cheated on his wife with the secretary. Said secretary who can’t make it tonight because she’s on a date with her new boyfriend…

This place is a mess, and you’re no exception. Currently trying to avoid Brian the copy guy as you speak. It was a moment of madness when you’d found yourself in a bathroom stall fucking him after hours. It isn’t like he’s displeasing to the eye, nor is he a total dick, but…the sex just wasn’t good. Call you shallow, whatever, but you know who is to blame for this…

The devil. You don’t even know is name. Come to think of it, does he even have one? You didn’t know the entities existed until that fateful halloween night. The night that still gets you all hot and bothered when you remember back. You’d almost convinced yourself it was a dream—a very vivid one at that, but then you’d hooked up with Brian, and his words had come back to haunt you.

Every time until forever, when you get fucked by another man, you’ll wish it was me.

It was true. You’re cursed. Before the devil, the sex with Brian would have been perfectly adequate, but now… You just couldn’t stop imaging that Halloween night; how good you had been pleasured and how entirely overcome you had been. You had lost yourself completely, and like even more of a curse, it seems you’ve become totally desirable to the opposite sex now… That’s how you managed to hook up with the copy boy so easily. So long without any dick, one visit from the devil and now here you are, catching the eyes of multiple men a week. However, after Brian, now you’re too scared to get dicked down by anyone else…

Which is why you’re freaking out right about now as you notice a guy staring at you from across the room. His face is unfamiliar, which isn’t too weird, sometimes colleagues bring guests, sometimes people from other departments come—whether it be in the same building or one in the next city… What is weird, or actually, not weird in the slightest, more like unnerving, is that the man is extremely good looking. More than good looking, beautiful, stunning…and no matter how hard you try you can’t seem to look away either.

You’re panicked when you see him walk over, but before you can think to mingle in with the crowd, he’s in front of you.

“Hi, I’m Jimin.” He introduces himself, a smile on his face, but there’s something off about it, a glint in his eyes, the friendly motion turning into somewhat of a smirk. He’s cute, a round face, but with a sculpted jawline, short, but with the aura of something more powerful. That seems to be him all over as you begin to talk. A walking, talking contradiction. He knows he’s good looking, you can tell so by the way he carries himself off. Normally that would be an immediate turn off, but he seems into you, and against better judgment you find yourself falling for it.

You’re excited almost; this is the first man you’ve felt this way about since that night with the devil… Maybe what he said wasn’t true, maybe you won’t crave him for the rest of your life? Maybe you just needed to find the right human with the right amount of sex appeal… Jimin is this guy. You can sense it, or at least you think you do. You’ll take your chances. Of course he’s a stranger to you, he tells you he works in the sister office across the next town…you have no reason to not believe him… And like you said, ever since Halloween, you seem to be catching the eye of every man who looks your way…

Jimin is promising. Your experiment. By looking at him you can tell he’ll know how to pleasure you. You want to prove that stranger wrong. Regardless of if you’ll ever see him again… You want to know that every time you have sex, you won’t think back to that night…you won’t think back to the devil who’s been plaguing your dreams ever since…

That’s how you find yourself back at home with the sexy office boy, locking lips like there’s no tomorrow. He moves like water, silky and fluid, hips snaking against yours as you show him the way to your bedroom, breaths tangled together as his tongue dominates your mouth and it’s not long before you have to pull away, panting a little as you push the door to your room open.

“Are you okay?” He asks, a teasing smirk toying at one side of his mouth.

He’s dangerous, wicked, and most importantly, incredibly hot, and he’s moving towards your bed right now, as if he owns the place, perching atop the bouncy mattress.

“Yeah,” you nod, desperate to come to. “Yes, I just need a moment.”

You don’t understand why you’re so affected. It’s a foreign concept. You haven’t felt like this since the night of Halloween—although it’s just a fraction of that, making you wonder how you even survived at all. Tonight is promising though, it shows you that there’s hope. That you won’t be craving a demonic creature all your life… Hopefully…

“I have all night, it’s fine,” he tells you, leaning back on his hands as he watches you inch towards him.

He’s dressed neat, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned near the neck, black pants tight against his thighs and crotch and you can’t help but ogle the bulge confined in the compact area, your belly doing somersaults, anticipation rattling you. Even more so when he begins to slip out of the shirt, fingers gliding over the buttons, and you’re mesmerised. His body isn’t real. It can’t be. Abs carved by angels you’d guess by the look of his cherub face, but his wicked grin suggests otherwise…

“You like what you see,” he muses.

He’s a little bit too cocky for your liking, but you don’t mind, not when your minutes away from getting laid. You stop before him, nerves filling you for a moment, which is stupid because it’s your bedroom, it’s your bed, but he takes your hands and pulls you to him, squashing you between his thick thighs.

“Lay back,” he tells you, tugging you and you land on the bed with a soft bump. He’s hovering over you before you can take a breath, mouth on yours, wet, plush and greedy.

You chase the feeling he gives you, letting him take you because you need this. You need to know you’re not going crazy. His mouth falls to your neck, kissing and licking, even nipping at the flesh as his hands fight with your shirt buttons, partly revealing the lace bra you wear underneath the chiffon material. He works with expertise, seeming to know where to kiss, where to make you feel good, moving to kiss the tops of your breasts, your chest heaving as you lay sprawled out under him, watching in awe.

“I like what I see, too,” he breathes, one hand softly cupping the underside of one of your breasts, fingertips gliding over the nipple, hard under its confines.

You need him to strip you, get you naked so he can pleasure you, fuck you—do whatever he wants. He moves too slow, almost as if he’s teasing, wanting to drag every bit of your pleasure out until you’re begging him.

“You’re hot, shaking,” he murmurs, fingertips grazing your sides, sliding under the shirt, making goosebumps bubble at the surface. You’re whining, squirming under him, confused as to why you seem to be so impatient—confused as to why you’re so affected. He’s only kissing you, but even so, you gasp when you feel his hot mouth at one of your covered buds, sucking the nipple into his mouth, soaking the black lace. Your back arches and you grip into his hair, holding him to you, wanting more pleasure.

He looks up at you, eyes black, and for a moment you shudder, reminded of Halloween. They’re soulless, no teasing spark anymore—just black abysses, but when he speaks, voice low and gruff, inhuman now—nothing like the almost coy, sweet voice he’d used all night—a fire ignites in them.

“Tell me, when has another man made you feel like this?”

You’re unable to reply, unable to move, mesmerised by his face, but dumbstruck by the sudden familiarity of his words…the familiarity of his actions, his behaviour, his aura…

“Hm? Never?” He prods, grinning wide now, as if he’s won a small fortune.

“Um,” you mumble, floods of memories coming back to that fateful Halloween night. How good your devil made you feel, now much you have wanted more ever since… How much their conducts are uncanny—albeit Jimin is much more conceited in your opinion, a gloater, stuck in his complacent ways…

“What’s up?” He continues, mouth moving down your body, kissing the hot skin of your abdomen that’s peeking out the openings of your messily buttoned shirt. “Speechless? I have that affect…”

You hate his attitude, but you love the way he looks right now, body settled between your legs, mouth mere inches from where you crave someone the most. It may have been a dick you were after before, but now you would gladly sell your soul to feel the hot, wet tongue of a man.

You’re about to open your mouth and beg for Jimin to do just that when a familiar voice rings around the room, making you jump, eyes wide as your body freezes in shock.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Starting without me?”

Your gaze shoots to the window, and yes, of course, you know that voice—you remember that voice. He’s back. He’s come back for you, and he catches you like this…

“Oh my god,” you exclaim quietly, instinctively closing your legs, banishing Jimin as you shuffle up the bed slightly, holding your shirt together, desperate to diminish what feels like some sort of betrayal.

“You can leave if you want,” Jimin shrugs, and you’re caught off guard, fresh shock flooding your body as you twist your head to look at Jimin, watching him kneel up, shooting the other man a dismissive look. “I’ve decided I want her to myself.”

No.

It can’t be.

“I don’t think so,” He shots, and no matter how confused you are right now, you can’t help but look at him and soak in his beauty. Your devil. It feels like months, granted it’s been two, but it seems like longer. You really had thought you’d imagined him at one point. But no, he’s here and he’s real, and he’s back.

“You already had your turn,” Jimin shoots. “She wants a change—look at her,” he exclaims, and both men turn to observe you. You shrink back, feeling unnerved, and more importantly, left out… What is going on?

“She’s practically elevating right now,” Jimin adds, sounding as smug as ever.

It’s true though. You’re still turned on, face red, limbs trembling, an inferno spreading between your legs, especially now that he’s made a return, and you carry on staring at him in wonder, mild irritation setting in when you see he’s not paying you one ounce of attention back.

“Trust me,” He scoffs. “Nothing on this earth—nothing in heaven nor hell—could pleasure her more that I did.”

“What’s going on?” You snap, sick of playing a pawn in whatever game is happening right now. “Do you know him?” You turn to Jimin, eyes mildly furious.

“Ah, so you remember me then?” The devil grins, sounding pleased.

“Of course I do,” you snipe. Is he just trying to tease you more now?

“See?” He childishly brags to Jimin, at that’s when you lose it fully.

“Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on?!”

“You’ve angered her now,” Jimin huffs.

“I’m not angry,” you interject—you’re actually too horny to be mad right now. “I just want to know who you are.”

“I’m Jimin,” he shrugs, that teasing smirk plastered back on his face.

“I know that,” you gripe. “You lied. You’re not who you say you are? You’re not from the company.”

“I never lie,” he refutes, sounding highly offended. “I’m just not from this world.”

He’s one of them…a devil? You feel a wave of disappointment hit you. He’s not human, that’s why being with him had felt so good… It was a trick. You’re still where you began. Craving a creature you can’t have, only now, there’s two of them…

“Oh my god,” you exclaim weakly. “There’s more of you?”

“I’m the better, more handsome one,” Jimin tells you, tone laced with saccharine.

“Please,” the other man scoffs in amusement.

“I thought you were the devil?” You turn, rounding yourself on the second liar in this room.

“I am the devil,” He affronts. “He’s just one of my underlings.”

His statement takes you by surprise. How powerful is he? You can’t help it, despite your annoyance, fresh arousal spreads up your body, filling every vein… He’s doing it again…consuming you…

“So, you’re like the King of underworld?” You ask, unable to hide how impressed you are.

He grins at that, sauntering forward as he beckons you closer. You don’t even want to refuse, you want to be near him. You want to feel him again. All past excitement with Jimin now a distant memory as you scurry to the end of the bed.

“I thought we decided on Master last time we met?” He questions, head tilted and you feel your belly dip in pleasure. The word igniting something in you, until—

“Master?” Jimin derides. “Please, your ego is sickening.”

“She liked it, didn’t you?” Your devil purrs in your ear, and you nod eagerly, annoyance now fully passed as you relax into his touch when he stokes your face. “I missed you,” he hums, looking you straight in the eyes, and even though his are soulless too, they have a familiarity that soothes you.

You delight as he spins you, back now firmly pressed against his chest as his mouth ghosts across your neck. You drop your hands from your shirt so it hangs half open. He smells just like you remember, and you want more. “Did you miss me?” He pries and you hum. Or course you did.

He stops at that, chuckling darkly against your ear. His next words stop your heart.

“The copy boy in the bathroom would tell me otherwise.”

“How do you know about that?” You demand, forgetting yourself for a moment because you’re so shocked.

“I see everything,” He shrugs.

“In other words you’re a stalker,” Jimin sounds from the head of your bed. He’s gotten himself comfy now, head propped up against the fluffy pillows. However, you hardly notice that because your mind is spinning. He sees everything? What does that mean? Can he really watch you without you noticing? Does he really do that? You blush crimson when you think of all the ungodly number of times you’ve masturbated to images of him since he visited you…

“Shut up,” He directs at Jimin, before he’s back in your ear, humming in approval. “I told you no human would be able to please you like I have…”

It’s true, and you’re afraid, because there’s a larger part of you who loves that more than you hate it…

“Maybe no human, but another devil on the other hand…”

Jimin is suddenly in front of you, sandwiching you between their muscular bodies, and fresh pleasure ignites in each nerve that makes your body, your eyes defocusing when you try to concentrate on the innocent looking monster.

“He was right, you’re beautiful, and I want to have you. Will you let me?” Jimin asks, eyes wide, trying his best to manipulate you. You’re not stupid. However, there’s no need. You’re horny, and with the one you crave the most behind you, you only feel the yearn harder. It consumes you, renders you weak.

“Just relax,” you hear in your ear, a nip on your lobe making you jump slightly. “I want to make you feel good again—that’s why I invited my inferior…”

Jimin shoots his Master a look of anger, but he quickly shakes it off, turning his attention back to you. An angelic smile brightens up his face, but it doesn’t belong there. He’s far from pure. He’s a swindler, and he’s using you for his own selfish gain. But then again…you’re doing just the same…using him to please the only one you crave…Your Master…

“Will you let us?” He asks right on cue, and you nod your head, a shaky “y-yes” leaving you, and before you can blink Jimin’s taking you, wrapping his arms around your waist to drag you back to the bed.

He wastes no time in stripping you now, shirt off, mouth all over you as he unclasps your bra, and for a moment you lose yourself, forgetting there’s another present until you’re hear his voice.

“Bra, mine,” He demands at Jimin, and Jimin obeys, handing the lace to him.

“Hey,” you protest, watching your devil place it in his back pocket—that was your favourite.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow. “I need another souvenir—if I can’t have your soul, I’ll have to make do…”

“You should just take her soul,” Jimin hums as he busies himself with getting rid of your jeans, leaving you in just your panties. “She smells delightful.”

“You should wait until you feel her, then you’ll go mad,” The other replies, a smirk on his face.

You gasp when you feel Jimin between your legs, rubbing you through the damp material, making it stick to your skin. It feels good and you can’t help but wiggle around under him, but your eyes are only fixed on one person, desperate to see his reaction. Your devil watching you back, now knelt on the edge of the bed, observing the scene before him proudly.

“She keeps looking at you,” Jimin points out, craning his neck to the side, as his hand slows down.

“Of course,” He brags. “I am her Master after all.” He turns his attention back to you, head cocked to the side. “Do you want him to fuck you?”

You nod madly, affirming with a string of yeses that blur into one and make you look desperate. He chuckles, highly amused. “Still craving that dick, I see. Take off her underwear,” He adds, directing it at Jimin.

You crave his dick, no one else’s. Although you can’t say you’re not excited for Jimin to reveal himself. This is wild, crazy! You’re really going to have sex with another man in front of him? Another devil?! You already know how much just one effected you, now it’s two? Your stomach bubbles with excitement at the thought, unable to control it, and you turn lightheaded once you feel Jimin begin to peel your panties away.

“Oh, my god,” he gushes once you’re revealed to him. “Fuck, look how wet she is!” He exclaims, turning his head to the other man.

It’s true. You’re so wet you can feel it collecting at your entrance, beginning to drip down your thighs. Jimin wastes no time in pushing a finger inside you, and you gasp when you feel the cold metal or his rings against your sensitive flesh. He wriggles the digit about, watching you squirm before he adds another. You moan out, body tensing as he starts to fuck you faster, toes curling into the bedsheets, and for first time since your visitor had returned, your attention is solely on the man who’s pleasuring you right now.

“Yeah, you like that, right?” He urges, tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lips as he can’t tear his eyes away from you, into every moan you make.

“Mhm, feels—good,” you struggle out, voice affected, out of breath.

“Wait until I fill you with my cock,” he brags, eyes flashing.

“Do it now,” you beg, not even realising you’re doing so. “Fuck me now—Please, Jimin,” you whine, eyes flashing behind him as you remember the other devil’s presence, eager to see his reaction. He’s smirking at you, but his posture is relaxed. That annoys you. A part of you wants him to be jealous—mad that another guy is about to fuck you. But then again…this was his idea…

“Seeing as you asked so nicely, baby girl,” Jimin smirks, stealing back your attention as he tugs at your hands, sitting you up. “Come, sit up,” he demands, and you watch as he begins to unbuckle his pants, the pit of your stomach simmering in fresh pleasure as he exposes himself.

You almost gasp at the sight. He’s thick, thicker than any man you’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing naked. The tip red and angry, his length so solid it looks like it’s set to burst, large veins travelling up the hot flesh.

“That’s right, the sight before you is much better than his, right?” Jimin brags proudly, and you almost come to your senses, scoffing lightly. We’ll see, you think. He’s definitely girthier, but length is no match for your devil’s dick…

“Come here,” Jimin beckons, and you watch as he lays on his back, head propped up with the help of your pillows, hands out so you can take them, guiding you to straddle his body, ass sitting on his cloth cladded thighs. You watch his abs shudder with each breath, see the tiny specs of sweat glistening in each indent, and your body stirs uncontrollably, eyes practically rolling back into your skull when he speaks again, fingers digging and clawing at your ass as he proceeds to roll you over his member, hard skin messaging your clit, making you groan out.

“I want you to ride my dick, wanna stretch you out, wanna make you beg for a God that can’t help you.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You’re both interrupted by a loud tut, another pair of hands wrapping around your stomach this time as a hot breath blows inside your ear.

“It’s okay, princess, I’m still here,” the one you truly want sings sweetly, pressing his chest into your back as he kneels forward. “…enjoying the show. Do as he says, and I promise I’ll reward you.”

If you weren’t already desperate, feeling his covered cock—hard—press against your ass is the last push to mount Jimin’s. It’s the best motivation you’ve ever had, and you grip the base of his hot member, hovering over it before you begin to push down.

It’s a stretch. One you’re not used to. It burns as he pops his way inside, head engulfed inside your hot, wet folds, but you physically can’t push down any further. It’s a pleasure you seek, but your body can’t take it, stuck in limbo—heaven and hell…so fitting

“F-fuck,” you let out shakily, one hand falling down to Jimin’s stomach as you struggle to keep yourself up, the other still holding his length partially inside of you.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Jimin asks. However, he doesn’t look concerned, more so smug, and that’s proven as he carries on, his chuckle grating on you. “I don’t want to break your pretty little cunt in half.”

“I can take it,” you grit out, determined now.

“See?” You hear from behind you, pride in the other devil’s tone. “I told you she’s feisty—Let me help you, relax a tad,” he hums against your cheek as he lets his hand dip between your legs, two fingers rubbing circles against your sensitive bud.

It helps to get you relaxed, getting wetter and wetter as you look down at the view, his large hand covering your core. It’s so hot, so crazy, and you fall further down onto Jimin’s dick, taking him inch by inch.

“Oh,” you let out, eyes fluttering shut, and you let your head rest back against the man you have missed so much.

“That’s it,” He coaxes. “Let him in—he feels good, right?”

You nod, gritting your teeth together as you take the last push, out of breath as Jimin finally lies buried deep inside you, walls stretched out, pleasure finally outweighing the burn.

“Fuck, s-so good,” you groan, gasping a little as you wriggle your hips to get used to the man underneath you.

“Well done,” your devil praises, before he’s removing his fingers from your clit and slapping your ass, “ride him!” He orders.

You obey immediately, lifting your hips up slightly to press them back down, the sensation already blowing your brains out. You move slowly, but it’s so intense you can’t think straight, until there’s another hit to your ass.

“C’mon, do it like you mean it—the better you do it, the quicker I’ll get to fuck you.”

His words ring in your ears and you speed up, moaning loudly now as Jimin fills you to the hilt.

“I’m not here as some kind of sex toy,” Jimin grumbles, hands coming out to grip your hips, aiding you a little because you’re already worn out.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” a snide remark behind you sounds out and Jimin rolls his eyes, jutting his hips up experimentally, causing you to yelp out, dick hitting your g-spot once before disappearing again.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks, eyes dancing with mischief, hips circling around lightly. You nod instantly. “I can’t hear you.”

“P-please,” you stutter out, body trembling, a strung-out mess.

“You have to specify,” Jimin teases, raising an eyebrow, and it’s both infuriating and arousing at the same time. He looks so good, blonde hair parted against his forehead, fluffy against the pillow, plump lips parted as he watches you slowly bob up and down on his cock.

“Say, ‘Please fuck my pretty little cunt.’”

“Why so crude,” the other butts in, but he sounds just as amused as Jimin.

“It’s my time right now,” Jimin presses, but before they can bicker anymore, you’re speaking over them, losing your patience, just wanting Jimin to fuck your brains out.

“Please fuck my pretty little cunt.”

“Woah,” Jimin awes, shocked with how determined you sound. “You are special.”

“She is,” your devil silks inside the shell of your ear and you shudder, a shiver running up your spine at his next statement. “That’s why I like her.”

You want to speak but before you can, Jimin’s already rocketing his hips into you, loud squelching noises sounding around the room as his dick slams in and out, your moans and cries now filling the room as you desperately try to cling to something. You’re at Jimin’s hand, weak in his grip, enjoying the ride.

“Fuck, you sound so good,” the one you truly want husks, and your belly begins to do somersaults when you feel his erection press against your lower back. It’s still confined to his pants, painful and ready to explode, but it shows you how much he wants you, and it’s enough to drive you wild with lust.

“I’m so hard, look what you’ve done,” he murmurs, a hand slipping between your legs again as he collects your excessive arousal; it sticks to his fingers, shines in the moonlight as he pulls back and before you can blink, you feel the same hand at your ass, sliding down the curve of one cheek, dangerously close to the spot which makes you freeze up…

“I want to fuck you too. It’s almost like I can’t wait.”

You convulse a little when you feel the pad of his finger rub at your forbidden hole, the pleasure overtaking the shock you felt for the slightest of seconds. Just imagining what could happen right now is enough for you, and suddenly you’re begging shamelessly.

“Please—Please.”

“Please what?” He presses, tone light with amusement, despite his fingers rubbing circles against your ass.

“Master, please,” you try again, forgetting how much you loved the sound of such a title. It rolls off your tongue naturally and sends shoots of pleasure up your body. “I want to feel you.”

“I only want to pleasure you,” he husks, tone so carnal it tears right through you. “Make you feel good, just you wait,” he semi-warns, and then you gasp out, feeling him slowly press a finger into your puckered rim.

The stretch is slow, the pad of his digit coaxing its way in gently with the help of your arousal, until it’s second knuckle deep and you hiss through the burn, before breathing through your nose as he continues. As he curls his finger—Jimin’s dick still pounding into you, your eyes roll back, divine like pleasure too much for you, your frame almost diminutive, wedged between the two men—two devils, and your heart can’t take it any longer. The pleasure’s too much. You’re going to come.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you pant out, nails digging into Jimin’s abs, vagina clenching around his thick member.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hands wrapping around your ass as he squeezes apart the flesh, allowing his friend better access. “God can’t hear you,” he chuckles, “—only we can, and we want you to cum.”

“You can do it,” you hear against your ear, a tongue snaking out to flick inside the crevice, sending your brain into haywire. “Cum all over his dick, like you wanted to when you were fucking that copy boy,” your devil snarls, tone sounding amused when he adds, “oh—but wait, you couldn’t, because you needed me.”

Yes, you needed him. You would always need him. You’re so sure of it now, and you come to the exact thought, pleasure hurtling through every vein and every bone in your body. Maybe now, after tonight, you wouldn’t even be able to make yourself orgasm without thinking of him…

You need a moment to gasp for air, your body on a major comedown as Jimin stops dead inside you, and behind you, the finger is slowly removed from your ass. Still panting, your breath catches half way when you feel long fingers weave into your hair, gripping the back of your neck in the process, holding your head back, a rattled breath in your ear now.

“Being blessed by the devil seems to be a little bit of a curse, huh?” Your devil taunts, but you shake your head, adamant. “Nuh uh,” you refuse, unable to vocalise anymore than that, but it seems to do the job.

“No?” He laughs. “That’s my girl, so good for her Master,” he praises, before kissing your cheek.

You freeze, he’s so close to your mouth you can feel his breath. It suddenly strikes you, that you’ve never kissed him before, and now the longing inside of you hurts. Why hasn’t he kissed you? Jimin wasted no time as you left the party.

Speak of the devil, you’re interrupted when he begins fucking into you again, fresh pleasure making you cry out, but it’s over now. You know that by the way large hands wrap around your hips and push down, stunting any movement that Jimin wants to make.

“I wanna fuck her some more,” he whines, gaze locked behind you.

“Tough,” your devil snaps. “You either cum now or not at all.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, but gives in, and suddenly you’re being picked up, limbs wobbly as your devil helps you.

“There we go, it’s okay,” he settles you down on your knees, and you watch as Jimin rises too, dick still hard and red in his fist.

“Open your mouth for him,” you hear the order behind you, and you obey quickly, tongue out as Jimin proceeds to jerk himself off in front of you, the tip of his cock bumping against your tongue every now and again, making light moans fall off his own. He’s close, you can tell, he’s abnormally quiet, no longer smug, and soon, as he gasps, you feel hot drops of his seed fall onto your tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” he grits out, and you obey, letting his arousal congeal in the air, until he’s finished and it sits heavy on your tongue.

He drops his member and leans over you, hand slowly caressing your cheek. “You’ve never looked prettier,” he tells you, before turning your head, body with it so you can face your devil. “Show him,” he demands.

The one you want—your Master, smiles like he’s admiring a piece of art work, his hand now stroking your face as Jimin drops his. You fall into his touch, like a kitten getting pet by it’s…master…and your stomach lurches at the thought. It’s his turn now.

“Spoiled by another, but still so appealing,” he awes, and you’re left positively glowing. “Swallow,” he orders, and you do so immediately, trying not to wince as your throat does it’s best to get rid of the bitter liquid.

“Say ‘ah’,” he goes, just to make sure it’s all gone, and when you do he nods his head, a glint in his eye.

He wastes no time in pushing you onto your back, his hard, muscular body pressing you into the mattress and you can feel his erection pressing against the dampness between your legs, soiling his expensive suit pants no doubt, not that he seems to care at all.

Your bed is comfy, pillows fluffy and for a moment you close your eyes, sleep calling your name. You’ve already had the living daylights fucked out of you, but if it’s for the one you crave, you’d do it again. You’d fuck ten men in a row if it meant you could finally feel your devil again.

“You’re tired,” he notices, not a thing going past his head, but you disagree. You won’t be tired once you feel him, and you need him to know that.

“I’m fine,” you smile, hands coming out to grip his shoulders. You can’t remember if you had a chance last time to feel them under your palms, and now you just hope he fucks you like this so you can hold onto them all night—and so you can see his face.

“I want you, Master, please…” you add, eyes wide and begging, feeling powerful because it seems like you have the mild upper hand right now. Has he turned weak in your time apart? Did you do that?

You win, or course.

“Then how can he refuse,” he smirks.

Your moment is interrupted by a loud scoff of disapproval, reminding you that Jimin is still there. You turn your head to see he’s lying back against the headboard on the other side of the bed, still shirtless and dick still out, now flaccid and lying on his stomach, drops of his come glistening across the flesh.

“Do you ever get sick of referring to yourself in third person?” He asks, clearly judging.

“Shut up,” the other dismisses. “Did I ask for your input? I’m being generous here, I could’ve ordered you to leave already.”

“I just find it amusing how you need people to stroke your ego so much. Master is…repugnant,” Jimin winces, face wrinkled up. “Whatever happened to just using your name…”

His name… Jimin had one, he had told you straight away… Your devil so obviously does too… Your curiosity piques, desperate to know the name of the man you can’t stop thinking about. The man who has consumed every thought space your mind has.

“I just find it amusing that you’re still speaking right now,” the nameless devil retorts, disrupting your thoughts.

You look up, watching his form, still clothed, as he towers above you. He looks beautiful, unreal, the moonlight making his thin shirt semi-translucent. You can see his skin under the black fabric and now you’re even more curious. You want to see him. You need to see his body—you need more…

“Can I see you?” You ask, totally disregarding Jimin, running a hand down his chest, feeling the hard flesh under your fingertips, and you’re sure you feel the muscles ripple at the sensation.

“Of course, princess,” he smiles, gliding his fingers down each button until finally it hangs lose, his toned flesh revealed to your awed eyes.

He glows in the moonlight, and you can’t take your eyes off him. It’s only him…

“Did you miss me?” He grins, leaning over you more, as your greedy hands trail over his flesh. You can’t get enough, wanting to see him fully bare, but you know not to be too gluttonous.

“Yes, yes, I did,” you babble, shivering when his large hands run up your sides. You chase the feeling, wriggling around on the bed. “You were right, no human man will ever be as good as you.”

“What about devil?” He ponders, one eyebrow quirked upwards, and you know exactly who he means.

“Your dick is better,” you practically moan—the thought of seeing it again, feeling it again, sending you ravenous.

“Manipulation at its finest,” Jimin grumbles—a sore loser.

“I’ve missed you,” your devil confesses, moving down your body now, hands at your thighs as he pulls them apart. “I’ve missed how pretty your cunt is. Still so wet,” he breathes, hot air blowing against your sticky core. You squirm. “Do you want me to fuck you that bad?”

You nod crazily, whining desperately. “I do, I want you to fuck me all night. I need you, I’ve missed you, Master…”

“But you look so delectable,” he says, voice low as he inspects your heat, and you burn, his words reminding you of how much you want him to go down on you—how much you crave it.

“I almost want to feast on you,” he husks, and you writhe around even more, needing him to do something, touch you. You’re going mad, about to burst, and the he pulls away, sitting back up and you feel like crying. “…but I can’t,” he shrugs.

“Aw,” Jimin pouts, mockery laced heavily in his tone, “but she wants Master to eat her out.”

“I don’t do that with an audience—peeping tom, stinking pervert, whatever you are,” he snides, turning his attention back to you before he carries on. “Anyway, it will give me a reason to return again. Won’t it, ____?”

He’s never said your name before, you can’t even remember telling him it, but it sounds so beautiful coming from his mouth. You need to hear it again.

“Can you fuck me now?” You beg, beyond control.

“That’s my girl,” he praises with a grin, hands dropping to his waist, fingers at his belt and the excitement rattles up your spine. “Always so eager. I really thought Halloween night was a fluke, something in the water, but no, you really are just a horny mess…fucking a random guy you’ve just met,” he juts his head towards Jimin, grin on his face, “the copy guy…who’s next? Hm?” He presses.

However, you’re too distracted to reply, watching as he reveals himself fully, the band of his Armani underwear visible before he’s tugging them down, cock popping out; long, hard and just as pretty as you remembered. Mouthwatering, and your core clenches in anticipation. You need him inside you now.

“They don’t matter,” you shake your head, widening your legs as he settles between them, holding the base of his dick, eyes trained solely on your soaked heat. “I don’t want anyone else. I only crave you.”

“And so you should,” he smirks, using his free hand to grip the underside of your thigh, pushing your leg up to gain better access. “Look at me,” he orders. “Watch my face as I sink back into the best cunt I’ve ever had.”

You hold your breath, bracing yourself as his words spin around your head, gaze locked on his face as you feel the head of his dick at your entrance, and finally, ever so slowly, he pushes his way inside.

Your vagina takes him greedily, impatiently, as you wish he’d thrust into you in one go, but your thighs begin to shake as he takes his time, the feeling of his member entering you bit by bit way more intense. You don’t take another gulp of air until he’s firmly situated inside your walls, and you hear him grunt out.

“Ah, fuckk.”

It sounds so beautiful coming from him, music to your ears and you relish in it, letting the feeling take you away. You feel full with him inside you, complete, no longer any missing piece now that your devil’s back…

“Just as I remember, still so fuckable, I’ll never want to stop,” he moans, gripping your hips as he stays, still frozen inside of you.

“Please don’t stop,” you plead. He could fuck you forever, you don’t mind. You’d welcome it.

“See?” He brags to Jimin, face jubilant. “I don’t remember her begging you to keep fucking her like this,” and before anyone can say anything in reply, he begins moving.

The force seems to be that of a hundred men, each thrust more powerful than the last, and you gasp and moan out, never taking your eyes off him; your gaze bouncing around his face, falling to his neck, before settling on his chest, beads of sweat dripping down his clavicles.

“Still—so—tight,” he gets out between roars, voice that of a growl as he lifts your legs up, folding you up practically, as he settles on his knees so he can gain more leverage as he fucks you forcibly; sounds of slapping skin and drenched squelching filling the room.

“What will it take for me to ruin you, huh? Make you mine, make you beg for me to take your soul?”

You can think of one thing. One thing that would render you powerless. If you knew one thing, that would be the end of you. You’re sure; and so effected you’re brave, managing to whisper your request.

“I want to know your name.”

He stills immediately, eyes wide, and for a moment you think he’s going to rebuff you, but instead he turns his attention towards Jimin.

“Get out,” he barks. “Your time here is up.”

“But—

“I never specified you could stay here the entire time,” he interrupts Jimin’s fight. You turn to look at the other devil too, dick now hard again in his fist, as if he had been enjoying the show. “Now, get back,” you hear from above you.

Of course, Jimin looks offended, but he has to listen to his ruler… By the time he leaves, your attention is already well and truly back on one person—and one person only. You don’t even notice his absence, or how he left—or if you’ll ever see him again… But you can’t think of that now…

Your devil begins to fuck you slow and deep, each movement more intense than the next, and you feel him everywhere, your whole-body vibrating. It feels like any moment now you’re going to start elevating. You don’t even moan anymore, just pant loudly, chest heaving as he drops your legs and falls over your body, face inches from yours.

“Seokjin,” he utters, and your confused for a moment until he carries on. “My name is Seokjin.”

You pause, breath catching in your throat as the name whirls around your mind. His name. His beautiful name, to match his beautiful face. Up close he is even more breathtaking, and now that you know his name, you’re overwhelmed, unable to piece together your thoughts. You feel full everywhere, staring up at him like he owns the world. He does—your world. And you don’t want it any other way.

“Seokjin,” you whisper in awe, hands coming out to reach for his face, stroking it with your fingertips, and he closes his eyes, a long drawn out groan falling from his throat as he falls out of you, only to slide slowly back in.

And then he’s kissing you. You’re so shocked you freeze up at first, only to then find yourself melting into him. His lips are plush and soft, gentle as they pry apart your own, and he tastes rich, like the darkest wine. It intoxicates you, but in the best possible way. You’re drunk on him and you never want it to stop.

He pulls away abruptly, panting for breath as he groans again, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Acting this way seems alien to you—he was so calm and collected the first time, he’d been composed this whole time tonight too…but now, with a kiss of your lips, he’s lost it, hips rutting faster into yours, chasing his high.

“Maybe you’re the one who will ruin me,” he laughs breathlessly.

His confession gets to you, the final shove you need to meet your end too, and your hand flies between your bodies, rubbing at your swollen clit as you clench around his dick.

“Gonna cum?” He asks, head falling back to watch you and you nod, speeding up as your orgasm hits for the second time tonight, only this time it knocks you for six, not only effecting you physically, but emotionally too—hell, even spiritually. It’s life changing.

His name falls off your tongue like a mantra, and he seems to enjoy that, eyes clenched shut as he slams his hips into yours, and you can tell he’s had it, because each movement is staggered…

“Mhm,” you moan, hands gripping his shoulders before running them down his back, pulling him to you once again. “S-seokjin,” you utter, begging almost. “Cum inside me.”

His eyes snap open, arousal laced with worry swirling around them, as his face turns uncharacteristically serious. “Are you absolutely positive?” He demands, voice low. “Once I do, that’s it—you’ll never escape me.”

His honesty shocks you, but instead of feeling any fear, you only know excitement. You don’t want to escape him. You want to chase him. You don’t want to let him go.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything,” you tell him.

“You will want no other man,” he continues, only this time there’s no superiority in his tone.

He’s giving you a way out, if you want it.

You don’t.

“If you think it’s bad now, you have no idea...”

Bad is not the word you’d use at all. It’s glorious. A true blessing, and you do want no other man. You only want your devil. Seokjin. Your Seokjin.

“I want your cum. Fill me up,” you tell him. “I don’t want anyone else.”

You’re so serious in that moment, he has to believe you, and finally he’s giving into his own trepidation, thrusting his hips at lightning speed, mouth back on yours, cries of “mine, you’re mine” leaving him every now and then as he pants for breath, mouth falling to your chin, cheeks, eyelids—whatever he can reach.

It’s when you declare quite strongly “I’m yours,” does he come inside you with a yell. Hot, thick liquid shooting up inside you, coating your walls, marring your purity once and for all.

You’re sedated, relaxed when he pulls out, collapsing beside you as he admits in his deliriously high state, “there’s something about you—I couldn’t forget that night.” You feel the same, but of course, that’s only to be expected. You were made to worship him the very night he came to you on that fateful Halloween, but something tells you, a devil shouldn’t feel the same affinity…

“Seokjin, will you come back?” You ask, rolling over to face him.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, looking shocked.

“Of course I do,” you nod. “I’m yours remember,” you add with a smirk and he chuckles, shaking his head as he sits up, dressing himself again as he does up his belt.

You feel dejected. You don’t want him to leave just yet. You want him to stay all night. But he moved swiftly, standing from the bed as he begins to button up his shirt. You roll onto your back, following him with your eyes as he reaches for the blanket at the end of your bed, opening it to place over you. He knew you were getting cold, and his little caring action touches your heart. He sits beside you, smoothing the hair from your face.

“Dancing with the devil so much will be a bad idea,” he tells you, almost as if he’s reprimanding you. “It won’t end well,” he adds sternly.

“I don’t believe that,” you argue almost childishly, but you sound so sure of yourself all he can do his laugh, gaze filled with admiration. He nods, a silent agreement between the two of you… This won’t be the end.

His parting gift is a kiss to your forehead, as he continues to watch you. “Beautiful,” he muses, and when you can’t help but blink, he’s gone in a millisecond.

#jin smut #jimin smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #jimin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:tdwa

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soyalavstheworld · 2 years

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face to face with my flaws

So you’ve been thinking about your flaws and it has been making you a little bit distressed. You are still not yet a character; you are a wishy-washy being subject to the change and ideas brought upon you by waves and tides. One of those influences is W. Another is Sneako (a youtuber). Like them, you want to be able to speak with boldness and originality.. To be sure of what you say. Why is it so hard for you? It’s because you never brought yourself up with originality. In your formative years anyway. You only did (and do) things because others do it or you want to appeal to people. Even you don’t have anything you can think of that you wanna do without looking at those around you. The stories that these guys you look up to tell, you feel as if you were in their shoes. You feel tall and invinccible like you were doing those feats. As if you were throwing yourself into the world with an I’ll take anything ditched towards me” attitude, or if you were walking in that Japanese garden in Nowra contemplating, or striding amongst a sea of people in New York with self confidence to launch yourself into subsurface level discussions with randoms with hot topics to add to your conversations and learn about their lives. You yearn to be like them, be just like that. Tall, self-confident, prideful (but not too egotistical), genuine Asian youngboys who are as straight cut as you can get. . Oh how you wish you could be like that, knowing you could very well be just in their leagues too. What’s holding you back? Laziness, complacency, not being able to think things straight cut, with meticulous oversight as well as common sense from a head screwed on tight. Many times after you’ve been so called told off by Will. You lament your actions and think of how corny and shit you sound. Your voice, so pretentious like you know shit, but you’re almost always wrong. And it’s embarrassing. How do you work on yourself though? It’s easy to say, hard to apply. Being genuine is so hard to you. Because in the past 5 or so years, you’ve never felt like you’re doing your own thing instead of following others. Look at you in high school, that friend group of yours didn’t care about you. You just sat where they sat, made jokes they’d like to hear. You’re such a boot kicker, such a suck up. Didn’t really ever do your own thing. Naturally you’ll see real ones will follow (if you did). Not that that matters anywhere. Be that lone wolf, be normal, but break those norms and do shit that makes sense pragmatically and realistically. None of this filter shit. Do your actions direct. If you’re going out there to find yourself in this world (you need to, because you have no/such a shallow character) focus on yourself properly. Look how you got yourself into that mess last year. Yeah blame goes both ways but at the same time you could’ve avoided it altogether. Let’s break it down; why it was and what your faults were.

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taz-writes · 6 years

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Hi! Feilan seems really amazing from what I've seen so far. Could u elaborate more on the state of the world they're living in - why it's so stagnant, the atmosphere, people's reactions to it, how it changes. That seems so fascinating (even more fascinating because it seems to parallel our world so much)

So this is actually a major plot point for the series, and because of that I can’t get into too much detail about why Feilan is like that. Rest assured though, I am going to address this in detail during the story!

People usually don’t question it because their society as a whole is very complacent. Feilan is conservative, in the sense where they place a lot of value on tradition and doing things The Way They’re Always Done. As long as everyone is eating regularly enough, and the nobles are still noble, and the peace is relatively peaceful, then the vast majority of the population is content to keep existing as-is. They have a government system that’s mostly feudal, and in most places, it works the way it’s intended to. Commoners feed the royals, royals protect the commoners, there’s a middle class supplying and mediating them both. The world is in perfect equilibrium: revolutionary movements can’t get quite enough momentum to go anywhere, and nobles are content enough that they don’t have motivation to be particularly huge jerks, so things just are. They’re comfortable with how their world is. Feilan’s society is pretty selfish and vain, so the few people that do want to change things often can’t escape their social circles. The vast majority feel that if I’m content, then why should anything be different?

The changes that do occur are fairly shallow. Fashion trends shift every decade or so, attitudes and aesthetics and behaviors go in and out of style. A few governments will move back and forth in how they function--the Tsi are notable for doing this. Their royal family changes every so often, because if a ruler is doing a crummy job then the Council can convene to vote them out of office and remove them, and then they’ll be replaced by someone whose opinions the Council likes better. The power balance in the Cydre leadership is always tipping back and forth. Once in a while, the Irkatzi will decide that they miss being an empire, and they’ll try to conquer someone (usually the Ajrijl. they hate the Ajrijl). The reigning King or Queen at the time will have to put a stop to it, and there’ll be quarreling for a decade or so, and then things calm down again. It’s enough motion to make people feel like things aren’t so stuck in place.

Of course, when you look at the records of history, the patterns are clear. A lot of people simply don’t care enough to pay attention unless it serves their purposes.

#taz talks #feilan #this is not a sustainable reality and it is not meant to be read that way #the problems with the setting and society are very deeply seated #Anonymous

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moonlitgleek · 7 years

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I would love to hear all of your book!feelings on book!Ned's teachings about "he man who passes the sentence should swing the sword"! 💕

Oh, you’re kicking my butt into gear here, Lauren. I’ve been planning a post about this very subject but I’ve only gotten to the point of throwing random sentences into my drafts and shaking my fist at the sky. Which surprisingly was not productive at all. Shocker!

But gosh, that scene!! I just love that scene so very much. Bar the prologue, this is the very first chapter of the whole series, the one that gave us the first glimpse of the Starks and started building their characters and the story at large. And the beauty of George’s writing is that that one scene between Ned and Bran perfectly encapsulates the ethos of Ned Stark, the character whose ideology drives the entire narrative whether through his teachings living through his kids, or through the legacy he left behind, or through one of his most defining acts: saving the infant that would grow up to be crucial to the survival of mankind. That scene crystallizes Ned’s characterization in one single conversation, which is one of the reason I find fandom’s tendency to decontextualize the phrase “the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword” and only focus on this one phrase out of the entire scene so minimizing to Ned’s character, in addition to being a misinterpretation of the message he meant to convey.

On its face, and if taken out of context, that phrase can send a contradictory message to its core meaning. Simply saying that the Stark way necessitates that you swing the sword yourself restricts the message to a simplified uber-macho exclamation of “we Starks do our own killing” *slaps chest because masculinity*, which completely loses the entire conversation between Bran and Ned its meaning. Mind you, there is a gendered overlay to the scene because this is Ned having a conversation with his seven-year-old child after said child watched an execution, which carries the idea that this is a rite of passage for Bran, an immersion in a violent culture that glorifies violence and attaches so much weight to men doing violent activities that it becomes the mark for bravery, masculinity and leadership. But I actually think that the true message of this scene defies Westerosi martial mores that glories in violence, because while Ned is essentially instructing Bran to kill by his own hand which is a violent activity, he is actively rejecting such sentiments as “a dead enemy is a thing of beauty” and “a bloody sword is a beautiful thing”. Ned’s intent fights against glorifying violence and against attaching a beautifying veneer to it, and instead calls for facing the actual truth of what taking a life is and demands it be treated as the monumental thing it is. In that scene with Bran, Ned is calling for recognition for the value of life.

“King Robert has a headsman,” [Bran] said, uncertainly. “He does,“ his father admitted. “As did the Targaryen kings before him. Yet our way is the older way. The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. “One day, Bran, you will be Robb’s bannerman, holding a keep of your own for your brother and your king, and justice will fall to you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.”

The lesson here lies in why Ned teaches that “the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword”, not just the physical act itself. If Ned’s lesson was about how killing someone yourself is the definitive mark of a good leader, or a “proper” Stark, he would not have elaborated with the explanation of why the Starks follow the old way or sought to confirm that Bran understood the rationale behind it. Ned’s lesson is far more about taking personal responsibility for your decisions no matter how hard that is and not hiding behind others to do your dirty work than it is about the actual act of swinging the sword. It is about recognizing the value of life and how the decision to take one should never be easy or simple. It is about treating the enormity of taking a life with the respect and consideration it deserves. This is an active refusal to become desensitized to death and to the act of taking a life. And that refusal does not come without a cost. We see the toll taking a life has on Ned as he seeks the quiet and peace of the godswood - seeking an intimately spiritual place where he cleanses his soul as he cleanses his sword from the blood that stains it - in the aftermath of taking a life. But he still chooses to shoulder that responsibility despite the cost to his psyche. It would be so easy for him to pass off that burden to someone else, to spare himself the unease of taking a life. But, well, “don’t look away”. It might be easier but it can and does come with the risk of making one complacent, and of making it easier to run away from or deny the responsibility of their actions. Ned stands against that complacency and against distancing oneself from the reality of what condemning a man to die is. He stands against the detachment that makes ordering death become such an easy thing, abstract to the point of not even registering anymore. That complacency and that detachment can lead a person to cease to see the worth of people’s lives, to see people and instead start seeing them as things: collateral damage to wars, fodder in the quest of personal glory, livestock with no importance or abstract number of casualties on a piece of paper.

Which is why I think “the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword” should be taken more symbolically than literally. Ned did mean for his sons to swing the sword themselves, but the actual physical act, in and of itself, is not the main point. It is only significant as far as being a method for Ned to hold himself accountable for his decisions and that is the honorable lesson he imparts to his sons. But dealing the killing blow is not inherently honorable, neither does it automatically make a person appreciate life or not forget what death is.

Indeed we see evidence of that in Ilyn Payne, someone who swings the sword and thus seemingly fit what Ned says but that’s only if we go by surface reading of Ned’s words. But Payne falls short of the actual meaning of Ned’s lesson as he “cares for naught but killing”, which is why Ned refers to him as a butcher. Now, people might not be dying by Payne’s word but they are dying by his hand which makes him just as responsible for those lives as the person giving the sentence. Ser Ilyn’s attitude regarding his job actually carries shades of dehumanization to the people dying on his sword as they get reduced to being heads for the headsman to cut off. Payne does not care about whether his orders are just or not, right or not; he does not care in the slightest about the lives he is ending. He certainly did not care about Ned and how unjust his execution was when he flung him down to die by his own sword. That’s the complete opposite of what Ned advocating for, despite the physical act seemingly meeting his standards.

Similarly, Jaime Lannister boasts to Catelyn about doing his own killing so he is another who swings the sword and doesn’t get another to do his dirty work for him. But does Jaime take responsibility for the lives he ended? Does he care about them outside of how they might affect his self-image? Daryn Hornwood, the Karstark brothers and the Winterfell guards who were murdered on his orders would beg to differ. Both these men (and Ned’s distaste for them) makes it perfectly clear that the interpretation that swinging the sword is the part that matters in Ned’s teachings, that Ned attaches honor to this simple physical act with no additional qualifiers, is way too simplistic and shallow - swinging the sword means nothing if it is not supported by the lesson about accountability and what is owed to the person getting executed.

Ned’s words are also more than just a call for accountability; they are also a call for compassion, for treating people as people, for treating every single life like it matters regardless of any other consideration. Ned is showing respect, even in executing criminals who legally deserve it, because their existence as human beings demands it. It’s their right as human beings. And Ned, at his core, is a compassionate and merciful man who cares which is why he recognizes the cost of life and agonizes over taking one, which is honestly rare in a society such as Westeros that glorifies violence, and for a guy who has been a part of two bloody wars, saw a lot of death and killed people by his own hand.

In a way, this is a defiant rejection of Westerosi tendency to attribute glory to wars and violent skills. Not a complete one, no, because Ned is still a part of said society and is employing and enforcing the rules it dictates, and that society ties accountability and the rule of the law to capital punishment. So Ned does kill people when he has to since he believes in accountability, the rule of the law and worthy causes, but he does not find it glorifying, he does not take pleasure in it, he does not allow it to take away his humanity or theirs. He faces the bitter reality of what taking a life is and accepts the weight and the mark it leaves on his soul, because he recognizes that ending a life is an enormous act and he will treat it with the due respect and consideration it deserves.

And that is the ethos of Ned Stark, that recognition of common humanity and how that’s deserving of respect no matter what. He lives by that sentiment, not just in how he rules the North or metes out justice, but also in how he treats the people in his household. It’s not for nothing that Ned’s habit of seating one of his servants at the high table and showing genuine care and interest in their work and lives is contrasted by Tywin Lannister’s greatest think-piece “you feed your dog bones under the table, you do not seat him beside you on the high bench.”. Ned refuses that dehumanization in every aspect in his life. He defies the tendency we see from other lords, from Robert Baratheon to Tywin Lannister to Randyll Tarly, to dehumanize people and treat them as insignificant making it so easy to disregard their rights, their suffering and even their very lives. If the lords can’t even recognize the personhood of someone, how can they care about their lives?

Personally, I find Ned’s call for personal accountability and recognition for the value of life and the way he leads by example, holding himself and his sons to it first before expecting it from others, so poignant in a series filled with people trying to evade being held responsible for their own actions and choices. Robert makes it an art form: walking away after ordering Lady killed and letting Mycah get run down fully knowing that Joffrey was lying; putting his abuse of Cersei on Cersei herself, or on the wine, or on random celestial happenings in the sky; seeing Joffrey’s cruelty and entitlement and violence as Cersei’s fault, and Cersei fault alone; using a transparent veneer of being concerned about the realm to mask the cowardice and dishonor of sending an assassin after a pregnant teenager and her unborn child; dehumanizing three innocents and letting their murder go unpunished but liking that he could hold to the illusion of righteousness, etc.

Tywin Lannisters uses plausible deniability to claim clean hands when he is getting toddlers and women and unarmed men butchered on his orders. Theon blames the victims who died as a result of his choices for their own murder in ACoK, keeps thinking of how he has no choice, and continues to try and distance himself from the responsibility in ADWD. Jaime puts the blame of flinging Bran out of a window on Bran’s snooping and on Cersei, and of him potentially storming Riverrun to force a surrender–with what this entails of breaking his vow to Catelyn–on the Blackfish. Barristan Selmy and Arys Oakheart try and excuse their inaction in the face of blatant tyranny by hiding behind vows of obedience and claims of duty and honorable service. There is so much of that in the series, so for Ned’s proclamation of the importance of personal accountability to come in the series’ very first chapter really sets the tone of the narrative, and is the first piece of commentary on an ongoing rejection of the eraser of one’s responsibility for their own actions under any pretense, not oaths of obedience, not corrupt systems, not corrupt institutions or overlords. Ned is at the heart of asoiaf precisely because his is a voice that argues against apathy and passivity in a society rife with them.

That compassion and that regard for life that Ned shows is the make of his legacy not just in terms of his image in the eyes of the Northmen and how it makes them fight in his name, but also in how he passes on these teachings to his children. It’s in Robb’s insistence not to let the murder of Willem Lannister and Tion Frey go unpunished and his refusal of Theon’s torture at Ramsay’s hand. It’s in Sansa’s rejection of the Lannister dehumanizing ideology and instinctive defense of Ser Dontos. It’s in Arya’s fierce protection of Weasel and her refusal to turn a blind eye as people she knows to have committed horrific crimes die a slow agonizing death. It’s in Bran’s attempts to reach out and help a tortured Theon. It’s in Jon’s adamant advocacy for the common humanity of the free folk (”what are these wildlings if not men?” THIS IS EVERYTHING NED HAS BEEN ADVOCATING FOR) and his refusal to abandon them to be trapped prey to the Others.

Those kids care which is why they will make a difference in the fate and future of Westeros, all because Dad taught them not to look away.

#joannalannister #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #ned stark #bran stark #robert baratheon #tywin lannister #jaime lannister #ilyn payne #robb stark #jon snow #sansa stark #arya stark #the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword #ask box #asoiaf themes

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mistye-dawne · 7 years

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Twisting Fate

Ao3 | FF.net Ch. 1

Summary: After his last act as a hero, All Might is forced into retirement. Unable to fight. Unable to protect anyone. How does one continue to carry certain burdens when they no longer have the strength to do so anymore. Can the man who's always had criticizing opinions about the No. 1 hero show him that it's okay to let someone help him? Starts post chapter 95 of manga.

Chapter 2: Awkward Visits

After what he would describe as the shortest and longest press conference on his life, Toshi is escorted by Tsukauchi out the back doors and to his car to avoid the swarm of media personnel out front. The unshakable All Might, now nothing more than a husk, standing in front of hundreds of people and cameras broadcasting his statement to the world. It made him feel far more exposed than he'd ever experienced before in his life and was something the he didn't want to feel ever again.

The car ride is silent and much longer than it should be as the detective takes a roundabout route to get there, making sure that they aren't being followed. While Toshi is more than ready for the day to be over, he appreciates the few extra minutes as he uses the time to calm his thoughts and prepare for what he must do next.

Now that the condition of his health is no longer a secret, some of the weight he'd been carrying for years has been lifted from his shoulders. Normally, he'd assume that to be a good thing, but that weight just doesn't disappear. It falls to someone else and becomes their responsibility. In this case, that burden now rests with the individuals who decide which aspiring heroes receive a license and are permitted to work as such. Without him, there is sure to be a rise in villain activity and it is up to those officials to decide how best to combat that.

Toshi stares out at the main building of the school as the car approaches its destination. Given his condition, it's doubtful that he'll be able to teach entire classes now, but that doesn't mean he won't be able to do his part in guiding the students to becoming heroes. Yes, his main concern is to Midorya's development as he still believes the boy will become an even greater hero than he ever was, but there are many others who will no doubt become excellent heroes in the future as well.

It is at UA where these aspiring heroes will grow together and forge more than just friendships. Thus he must do everything he can to ensure that they are able to continue their educations there.

Standing in the principal's office with Blood and Aizawa, Toshi listens to his long-winded thank you followed by the warning of dissenting opinions. He knew that there would be objections to his staying at UA, but it was ultimately up to the principal to give the final say so. Of course, Toshi knew that he'd be allowed to stay regardless of what the public said because the mammal sometimes did things out of spite because humans were very easily annoyed by it. He was also one of few that were aware of his secret.

Aizawa watches the newly retired hero hang his head as they listen to the principal tell them that since he's decided to allow All Might to stay with the school, they must take extra measures to make certain that faith and confidence are restored in the heroes. The man tunes out the mammal, having already heard about his new plan for the school.

It was odd to see such an absent look on All Might's face. He was unreadable and Aizawa wasn't quite sure what to make of it. All Might had to know that each incident and run in with the Villain Alliance could be traced back to his coming to UA in the first place, but the blame couldn't be placed solely on him. Heroes in general had grown complacent under the 'Symbol of Peace', including them. As teachers first and heroes second, they needed to set the bar even higher for the students so that the future generation would not make the same mistake that they had.

The first step in doing that, according to the principal's plan, were home visits to obtain permission from the students' parents so that they could transfer to living on campus.

When told that he will accompany Eraserhead and visit class 1-A, Toshi looks at the man beside him and meets his seemingly neutral gaze. The last thing he wishes to be is a burden, or inconvenience, and where Aizawa is concerned, Toshi feels he is just that given what the man has been put through because of his presence. Whether or not he actually feels that way about Toshi is unknown because he's never been able to read him.

The first home the two visit is Jirou Kyouka, which goes over far better than Aizawa had expected. Though her father and immediately denied them, Aizawa humbled himself, nearly begging for a second chance to be trusted. Toshi notes that or those that didn't know the eternally exhausted man, such an action would be seen as odd, but in these several that he'd been working alongside him he knew that Aizawa firmly believed that the best place for the kids was at UA.

Even if meant begging, he could see that the dark-haired man would do whatever he needed to so that his kids could return to the school.

"I came into this prepared for a lot more criticism and doubt," he muses more to himself than the man sitting next to him in the car. Though he gave the students a hard time and maintained a certain aloofness in public, he truly believed that having the students on campus full-time was not only the safest thing for them but also the best place to nurture their potential.

"I think we will owe the ease of these visits to the students," Toshi responds. It's likely students aren't putting any blame with the teachers and don't share the doubts that their parents do. "The students have witnessed you not only protecting them, but leading them and they trust you, Aizawa."

Aizawa takes a moment to think about All Might's comment. He certainly didn't feel as though he deserved their trust, not when they'd been injured under his watch. He brushes the thought aside and tries to appreciate the kind words that had been directed at him instead of trying to find the fault within.

Aizawa raises a hand to rub his neck. "At any rate, let me treat you to a drink after this," he offers without really thinking.

It's barely there, but Toshi catches that neutral expression of his soften just a bit. "This definitely isn't the Aizawa I know. I appreciate the offer, but I don't drink actually," he replies sheepishly and reaches up with his hand to pull at his bangs.

An awkward silence falls between them as one worries that the next visit won't go over as smoothly as the first and the other wonders what the hell just happened between the two of them.

Both teachers quickly learn exactly where Bakugou gets his explosive attitude as they witness the boy's mother smack him across the head after mentioning the proposal.

"He's all yours," she tells them rather nonchalantly.

They watch the boy direct his anger and yelling at her to which she responds in kind. Bakugou's father is mortified and attempts to calm the boy and his mother down while apologizing to the teachers.

This is certainly a dysfunctional family if he's ever seen one Toshi thinks. The two men sit awkwardly, Toshi having a sip of tea, while they wait for the boy's level-headed but soft spoken father talk the two of them down.

"About my proposal," Aizawa starts once they've quieted down, "are you truly willing to comply?" She's already said yes, but he feels the need to be completely certain with this particular student.

"The whole living on campus idea, of course," she answers with a wave of her hand. Her face softens a bit and Aizawa waits for her to continue, thinking that she looks like she has more to say. "You see, our son has always acted rashly without giving anything a second thought. To top of it all off, he's been blessed with powerful abilities. Because of all that, he has been spoiled and showered by shallow words of praise and he's ended up a hothead," she says while looking down at the boy.

Then she looks up into Aizawa's eyes. "When you spoke about Katsuki the way you did the other night Aizawa-Sensei, I was incredibly to happy to see that someone out there is able to see who he really is."

Aizawa looks to the boy who's scowling at his mother. He meant what he said about Bakugou the other night, but hearing that the boy's mother appreciated what he said and was trusting her son to him because of that actually made him happy and eased away some of the doubt that he'd filled his head with, though no one would suspect a thing given his indifferent expression.

Toshi sits silently the whole time, listening to the words of gratitude that Aizawa receives from the boy's mother. He really had been worried about this home visit but learning about what Aizawa had said about young Bakugou, he's no longer concerned. It's rare that the man openly praises the efforts of another and when the family of three bow their heads to the teachers, Toshi nudges the other man with his casted arm. Aizawa chances a look at the blonde.

"How about I treat you to drinks," he whispers with dull smile. He knows that it's meant to be brighter but looking at him now, he realizes just how tired the man appears. His cheeks are more hollow and his eyes sad even though he's smiling. Was this why the old nurse had asked him to watch over All Might?

Aizawa turns his attention back to the family and considers accepting All Might's offer. If the rest of the families they're to visit are anything like the first two, he's definitely going to need something once they're done.

The boy's mother walks them to the door where she thanks them one final time and let's them walk back to the car so they can continue.

"Midoriya is next on the list. Seems his place is pretty close," Aizawa says while scrolling through his phone.

Toshi halts, causing Aizawa to do the same as he looks back at him with questioning eyes. "About that co-"

"All Might!" they hear Bakugou shout as he walks up to them. Aizawa nods for him to see what the boys wants and climbs into the car, unable to help overhearing their conversation.

"What is Deku to you?" Aizawa raises an eyebrow at the direct question and listens for All Might's response. He notices how Bakugou is holding himself, face set and eyes fixed on the man.

He's wondered very much the same thing since day one, seeing that the new teacher was terrible at hiding his his interest in the boy. He was worried that Midoriya's growth would be inhibited, but so far whatever relationship the two of them had only spurred the boy on. As far as his quirk is concerned... Well, that's still a mystery to Aizawa and he's behind his classmates on that point. He's catching up though and is even ahead of his class in other areas.

As long as he's growing, Aizawa didn't care to ask All Might about it. Now that someone else was curious about the two of them, he could confirm that Midoriya was more than just a student to All Might, though he'd never say that to Bakugou, or anyone for that matter.

Toshi's expression becomes grim at the boy's question. Of all the burdens he's held, this was one that needed to remain between him and Midoriya. "He's a student. Just like you, I see an aspiring hero with great potential."

Bakugou's shoulders slump as he turns around and walks back inside. "If you won't tell me, that's fine. But.. thank you." Toshi hates that he must lie to the boy but this one secret he must never allow more than those necessary to know it.

Aizawa would like to believe All Might's words but reading the sullen look on his face shows him that he doesn't even believe them. He waits for the man to climb in and for the car to move before asking him about what he'd wanted to say about Midoriya's visit.

"Ah, would it possible if you let me handle this one alone?" Aizawa rolls his eyes which doesn't go unnoticed by the other man. Really, could he make it any more obvious that he was playing favorites with th boy?

"Will you be able handle it on your own?" he inquires, doubtful to do this one favor for the man.

For the sake of keeping One for All a secret, Toshi has to do this visit alone. This was something that the principal knew he wanted to keep under wraps and it made him wonder exactly why he had been chosen to accompany Aizawa in the home visits for class A. It wasn't that he didn't trust the other hero, but there wasn't a reason for him to know.

"This one I have to," he says, staring down at his clenched fist. Aizawa follows All Might's gaze and wonders just what's going through his head.

"Fine, but you owe me that drink when we're done," he sighs as he fishes for his eyedrops. "I also I expect you to join in visiting the remaining homes that I don't get to," he adds, blinking a couple times then narrowing his eyes at him.

"Of course!" he agrees immediately waving his hand in surrender. "I'll text you as soon as I'm done and you can tell me where to meet you."

Minutes later they arrive at where Midoriya lives and before the car pulls away, Aizawa asks once more if he'll be able to handle things on his own. Toshi assures him that he'll be fine and shoos him off.

Aizawa cranes his neck to look in the rearview mirror and watches All Might's figure disappear in the distance. When he's no longer able to see him, he relaxes and closes his eyes so he can mull over the thoughts that had been running wild since the first visit.

Since the attack at the camp, Aizawa had let his irrational side slip to the forefront of his mind causing him to doubt and become uncertain of himself. He'd somehow convinced himself that he'd lose his teaching position when he knew logically, it made more sense to keep him at UA since they already knew that information was being leaked from inside. When he sat down and thought about it all, he knew that he had no reason to worry.

But he's able to close his eyes and actually get some rest, he's bombarded by memories of the USJ attack and what happened at the camp. Too many students had been hurt and though Class A had been lucky that so few were injured and hospitalized, he wished that the same could have been said for class B.

He hadn't lied to All Might when he'd said that he'd been prepared for worse from the parents, especially from the Jirou household. He also didn't have the best track record when it came to dealing with angry parents given that the year prior he'd expelled an entire class of first year students. Aizawa also believed that the student's parents would hold different values and wouldn't want them to return to UA.

Though they'd only visited two families thus far, Aizawa knew that he'd made an error in his judgement and needed to clear his head before the new term. He had always prided himself in holding his students to a higher standard, so he shouldn't have been surprised that they would have spoken to their parents ahead of his arrival and plead their own cases for wanting to remain at UA.

Though his mind was still muddled, it had allowed him to look at other things and people a bit differently, such as All Might. Now that the 'Symbol of Peace' was gone, it put All Might's way of doing things into perspective a little. Except coddling the press; that was something he'd never understand.

But that bright and overzealous personality of his had meant something to the public eye. It eased their minds and consequently had done the same thing to heroes. He thought about the smile that had appeared on his face while at Bakugou's home. It wasn't the radiant smile that he normally showed the world. It was tired, sad, and maybe even a tiny bit relieved because if he was honest with himself, he knew that All Might had carried an enormous burden without help for a long time.

So Aizawa really couldn't blame the man for not being the clueless oaf he normally was. He wasn't exactly sure if he'd be able to show any semblance of strength if he were in the man's position.

When the car stops, Aizawa is jostled from his thoughts. He climbs out of the car and steels himself to appear before the next few families alone. At least he hopes it'll only be a few. If not, then he'll be needing more than one drink tonight.

#ficsforvera #erasermight #bnha #my hero academia #aizawa shouta #toshinori yagi #eraserhead #all might #mistye-writes

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knightofbalance-13 · 7 years

Text

The Logical Fallacies of Criticism

https://www.raphkoster.com/2013/10/14/on-getting-criticism/

Everyone who dislikes your work is right.

And the bottom line is, you put the game out there in order to get reactions. If it were not for reactions, you could have just kept the game in your drawer and gotten everything you needed out of it.

Incorrect: Nothing is ever valid if it is correct on that simple basis alone. i can say that the Avengers is literally the worst movie in history with terrible action, horrible dialogue and atrocious music and I would be right by this logic, despite it being a widely accepted fact that the Avengers movie is great in all these areas and having a very positive overall score to it. Just because you believe all criticism you got is correct doesn’t mean that applies to everyone or that even you are right. That is just a gateway to being used and manipulated by people.

You yourself say that reactions are what is needed for media: Would not positive reactions be included in that? And what about negative reactions that goes beyond the logical acceptance, such as what happened in Tokyo Ghoul where the creator was told to go kill himself because he didn’t make a ship canon? Should he retcon a decision of his so he can appease a group that went ballastic over a ship? The answer is yes to the first and no to the second and third.

The criticism that is useful is that which helps you do it better.

That means there are two aspects of your work that you want to hear about the most. What you did right, and what you did wrong.

This is a direct contradiction to what you said before where you basically said that negative criticism is always right but now it’s both sides that are important. And this brings up the question of: What if the reaction only shows one side? What if someone says nothing but praise and the other says nothing but criticism? Accepting either one means denying and avoiding the second side and that is an incredibly dangerous thing to do.

Nothing’s perfect.

The fact is that to do creative work is to know that most of what you do is shit. And we feel that way because we know we can do better. Honestly, if you aren’t pushing the boundaries of what you can do, you’re probably not working hard enough. And working at the edge means a lot of screw-ups.

While being critical of oneself is good, doing so too much and believing that “90% of what you do is shit” is not a valid nor even slightly healthy way as it denies you a style and constant puts you under pressure to change or improve everything when somethings don’t need improving or changing and are perfectly fine the way it is. Acting and thinking this way will only stress you out and leave you open to manipulation.

You often have to choose between your ideals and your message.

It doesn’t mean I have to give up on the philosophical ideal. But it does mean that there are many many ways to compromise, and not all of them leave you compromised. In fact, being uncompromising may be the least successful way to achieve your artistic goal.

Wait, but you said in the second statement:

People make games for different reasons. Some do it just because it is fun. Some do it as a form of personal expression. Some have a message to get across, and some are out to make money to put food on the table.

So what if compromising that message would contradict what they want to do? What if they want to get their message or philosphy across first and foremost? Yeah, in games this can be bad but not in all media: Books are a good media to get this across through a story, entertaining the audience by detailing their philosphy. So this seems contradictory again.

You have to dig to get the gold.

Most feedback you get isn’t going to be from fellow practitioners. Even when it is, they are not going to know as much about the specific ways in which you did things, the tools you used, the practices you follow, to be able to pinpoint exactly what’s wrong without a pretty deep dive.

This means that usually, when someone tells you that something is wrong or broken, it’s going to be wrong. But wrong in the sense that it will be imprecise. You need to find out what the problem is underlying the problem. In other words, the symptoms described will almost always be right, and the diagnosis will often be wrong.

Don’t discard the feedback because of this. Look at it as a door you need to push on. Dig deeper and find out what the real issue is.

Incorrect again. Just because someone says it’s wrong doesn’t make it wrong. In criticism it only becomes problem if a massive amount of people say it’s wrong. Listening to one person who could just be a spiteful troll say something’s wrong due to personal opinion is stupid and fallacious. You have to trust your instincts and take all criticisms into account.

Good feedback is detailed.

Look past what may feel like condescension. This sort of detail is impossible for someone who has not engaged fully with your work. The sign of a critic who does not care is brevity, not detail. It’s dismissal.

Now, all the other caveats about whether or not this feedback is right still apply. It can be detailed and not right. But never dismiss serious thought.

Incorrect: the person can be lying through their teeth or willfully not taking things into account of “missing” certain details and do so with detail. They can talk on and on and on about how much this sucks but if they are lying or not taking things into consideration or are motivated by selfish desires then the detail is irrelevant. Again, trust your instincts.

People who tell you you’re awesome are useless. No, dangerous.

I am not saying that you need to lack confidence in yourself. (Heck, you’ll never put anything out if that’s the case! You need to have the arrogance to assume anyone will care in the first place). I am saying that nobody is ever done learning, and people who tell you you have arrived will give you a sense of complacency. You should never be complacent about your art.

But that is exactly what will happen if you follow these guidelines: You will have no confidence in what you think and what your opinion is, only what the audiences want. And said to say but most vocal parts of the audiences are very small groups who are motivated by selfish and destructive desires so they will take advantage of your insecurities to abuse and beat you into their slave and make you write what they want, not what you want. And a creator’s first and foremost concern when making something for themselves or out of passion or love (which are usually the highest regarded works) should make it for themselves and then show that love to the world. The Nostalgia Critic says it the best: https://youtu.be/F0_W6gomFA8?t=12m41s

Someone asked for feedback will always find something wrong.

This is super simple. When someone is asked to critique something, they will feel like they have failed if they don’t find something wrong. So everyone will always find something, even if there’s nothing major to fix.

That doesn’t mean that the thing they mention is wrong. If the only feedback you get from multiple people is the same minor thing, you should feel pretty good!

This contradictory to the previous statements again which say that only negative criticism is good and that positive people are not.

Good work may not have an audience.

This is a sad truth. There is no correlation between quality and popularity. You may make something that is sophisticated, subtle, expressive, brilliant, and lose out to what is shallow and facile and brash. Oh well. And that really is the right attitude to have about it, too: oh well. Getting bitter about it is pointless.

That said, don’t underestimate the skill required in being simple, polished, and accessible. Dense and rich is easy. Simple is hard. You denigrate “pop” at your peril.

Except they won’t have that attitude due to all of the advice before hand which will leave them in a state of extremely low self esteem and will make them question their abilities as a creator: thus encouraging them to think they are no good and quit. This is why balance is such a necessity.

Any feedback that comes with suggestions for improvement is awesome.

That’s because it means the person offering the criticism actually thought about your goals. So either you get avenues to explore that assist you in your artistic goal, or you get told that your goal is invisible to an audience! Both are highly valuable information.

But what if that person isn’t making suggestion for the improvement to everyone: What if their suggestion is incredibly selfish and self centered and serves only to make it better to them and them alone? What then:? Should you take that advice even though it is obviously destructive?

If you agree with the criticism, say “thank you.” If you disagree, say “fair enough,” and “thank you.”

Complaining about a critique, or about a bad review, is utterly pointless. You can’t deny the subjective experience of the reviewer. You also have to be thankful that they paid enough attention to actually say anything at all. The fact is that indifference is the enemy, not engagement, even if that engagement doesn’t get the results you want.

You’re going to face way more indifference in your career than anything else. There are a lot of people out there working really hard, and they all want the audience attention that you do. Always be grateful for the attention. Someone takes the time to let you know what they thought? That’s already one in a thousand. They cared.

Exactky: Subjective. Meaning biased, opinionated and ultimately no use to you: you need to look for criticisms that are trying to be objective and factual. And that argument of “at least they paid attention” is crap: You can pay attention to something just to hate on it and just to know what lies to say and what facts you can twist.

Once indifference was the enemy: Now it is everyone. You can only trust attempts at being factual and honest and your own instincts.

You are not your work.

Above all, don’t forget this. Oh, be personally invested, of course. Your art will be poorer if you are not. But every little ship we launch is just our imperfect crafting of the moment. And we move on. We create again, and again. Each can only ever express a fragment, a tiny fraction of ourselves. And if you are trying to always improve in your craft and your art, then every old fragment, everything out there in the world already, that’s old news. You are on the next thing. Your next work, that’s who you are. Not the work that exists, but the work that does not yet.

So if someone savages it, who cares? That was yesterday. It’s not who you are now.

Hold on to that, because a lot of people can’t separate the work from the artist. Including a lot of artists.

This statement is contradictory: you are not your work but your work is a part of, therefore, who you are. I feel like this is an attempt to devalue an artist’s personal interest and investment in their work in order to detach them from it to make it more susceptible to control.

And that’s what this whole thing reads as: an attempt to make works susceptible to control from a vocal part of the audience by telling them that all negativity is good while simultaneously saying contradictory words in order to disguise this. If anyone followed this, they would have such a low opinion of themselves that they would listen to anyone who could get through to them first which, considering the power of screaming and mob mentality, would undoubtedly be an abusive group who just wants the media to portray exactly what they want for their own selfish wants. I have seen this in the past and I’ve seen it done today, by no other than the person who showed me this link. They wanted a certain show to go exactly the way they wanted which would alienate everyone except their small group by acting like a bunch of abusive lovers who try to emotionally abuse the creators into doing exactly what they want. This thought scares and pisses the hell out of me because the creator’s drive should be treated as the foremost concern, not the wants of the crowd. The creator does what they want with the show, all we can do is help guide them down the path they want, not choose that path for them. That is the road to successful works, not this abomination.

#criticism #bad criticism #incorrect way of taking criticism

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archivesdiveronarpg · 7 years

Photo

Congratulations, ASH! You’ve been accepted for the role of TYBALT. Admin Bree: I don’t even know where to start with this application, Ash, except to say that I couldn’t stop smiling while I read it. It’s a bit weird, I know, considering Tiberius is not exactly the kind of character that makes people happy, but your portrayal of him was so accurate that I knew I’d found the right person to bring him back to the dash. Your plot ideas were wonderful, your interview was priceless, and your para sample was raw in a way that fit him perfectly. This was, in a word, incredible. Welcome to DiVerona! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Ash.

Age | Twenty - three.

Preferred Pronouns | She / Her

Activity Level | On a scale of 1-10, i’ll definitely have somewhere between an 8 or 9 in activity. I’m currently looking for a job, so until i have one, i can be here just about everyday.

Timezone | EST.

Current/Past RP Accounts | http://macnaired.tumblr.com/ ( the link i’ve included is to one of my current characters in a harry potter/marauders rpg. his muse is incredibly similar as far as what i’m envisioning for Tybalt’s character when it comes to the violence, and the temper and the chaotic behaviors )

IN CHARACTER

Character | TYBALT – tiberius alessio capulet

(fun fact: The name Alessio is of Italian origin, and it means “defender,” a fitting name for the Captain of the Capulets, but holding a touch of irony, in that defender has such a positive connotation, associated with nobility and honor. A defender protects what is important to them, and Tiberius does, but he’s the most vicious extremist defender you could find.)

What drew you to this character? | WELL, first and foremost i’ve been creeping this rp for a minute now because it’s absolutely stunning, the bios are so thought out, the spin on the characters that so many of us know and love is so well executed, and i honestly just adore the whole mafia meets Shakespeare theme going on. It’s absolutely brilliant, and i’ve been so intimidated because of the flawlessness but i was like NO imma do this. not to mention Tybalt is such a BAE. and i will stop there before i start GUSHING.

BUT – scanning through the bios i was taken right back to my high school literature class just looking at Tybalt’s bio. I was drawn to him instantly because he was actually one of my favorite Romeo and Juliet characters. He was hatred given form and a name, sharply contrasting to Benvolio and Romeo. He was young and scrappy and pushed the plot forward with his need to fight everyone and everything. He was the active driving force in the Montague-Capulet rivalry (because let’s be honest Capulet and Montague were way too old and crusty to try and kill each other). And i know you’re probably like – whaaaaat? But i’ve always been drawn to the more antagonistic characters no matter what the series. I adore the hot-blooded heathens, the wild cards, the perpetual pot-stirrers. I rooted for the Disney villains, okay? Not because i agree with any single thing they do, but i find their stories by far more intriguing. I love figuring out what it is that drives the villain – How did they become the way they are? Do they eventually get what they used all their villainy to pursue? I firmly believe that no one is born so evil, so for me, I was drawn to the potential for Tybalt’s arc as he slips from slighted Capulet prince to the potential king of the mob. I’m here for his unabashed and fiery personality, and his unquenched thirst for blood and power.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | Where do you see this character developing, and what kind of actions would you have them take to get there? 3 future plot ideas would be preferable.

I can see different aspects of Tybalt developing as the story goes on. I want to see his ascent to the top of the food chain, I want to see him get the power, the glory. But I’d also like to see him struggle, have him realize that not only does responsibility come with this caliber of power, but great cost as well. I want to see him battle not only everyone in his path, but battle himself and his demons too. His values (or lack thereof) and loyalties need to be tested, because we know what he wants, but how far is he going to be willing to go to get it?

HOISTED BY HIS OWN PETARD // We all know the Shakespearean ending for Tybalt. He is very much hoisted by his own petard, stabbed by Romeo for stabbing Mercutio. One thing I’d love to explore is one of Tybalt’s likely enemies catching up to him, and giving him a taste of his own medicine. I’ve seen that some characters have become hostages of the opposing family, so LORD that would be crazy if that happened to him. I could even see something to the effect of him perhaps getting demoted to soldier status, his captain’s badge being ripped away and now having to work in the ranks of all his subordinates, take orders from someone else.

Tybalt thinks of himself very much in a godly light, that he is unbeatable, he is impenetrable and as of right now, due to the reign of terror he’s created in Verona, the bodies he’s left in his wake, he pretty much is. He is the dreaded. People don’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. For that, i’d love to see him finally fail. I want his underhanded tactics, foul play and dirty deeds to catch up with him. OR to make it hurt more, perhaps all that he’s worked for, his one goal, slips right out of his fingers just as he gets it, or right when he’s about to have it all.

WHATS A KING, TO A GOD // If people think Tybalt is bad now, he’ll be something else entirely if his plans were to come into fruition. Tybalt is the antagonist, we know that much. But he is no shallow villain, no mindless ruffian, just committing murder and causing destruction because he can (though, he does have the tendency to do so). There is a method to the madness. Every shot fired, every slice of his blade through the air, is a power play, an exertion of his dominance. While it would be likely very easy to get Juliana out of his way, realistically, Rafaella poses the real challenge. But I think an interesting way to take his plot, of course, would be for Tybalt to obtain everything he’s ever wanted. To convince his cousins of what he’s known all along - that he is the most fitting for the job. I would like to see him get a taste of what that kind of power is like, no matter how short or long the term. But one important thing in his bio that i picked up on is ‘complacency is cowardice.’ and because Tybalt is never satisfied, I want to see what his next big thing would have to be. He becomes the Boss …what then? I’d like to think that someone like Tybalt, once he has the power, he won’t know how to act, he won’t truly know what’s best for the Capulets. He’s a warmonger, the most likely to be a tyrant, and will decisively pick options with which their enemies will be eliminated completely, conquer territories, burn bridges and cut ties, as opposed to playing the game, taking on allies and getting close to foes. So a Tybalt regime - yes pLEASE.

CRACK IN THE ARMOR // Tybalt’s main goal is to be ‘king,’ be the ‘general.’ He wants to take what he believes is his rightful place as the Boss of the Capulet family, that means cutting down every and all obstacles in his way. He’s heartless, merciless, unapproachable and irascible , so naturally this would make for a surplus of enemies and not that many allies. I’d actually like to explore and see someone break past the stone walls Tybalt has built up around himself, pierce his iron armor. He’s distrustful of everyone, and likely won’t be able to comprehend positive attitudes towards him. He’s built up so much resentment and so much anger that it’s all he truly knows. But i want to explore some emotional depth with him, for someone to tell him it’s okay that he feels so much, perhaps even for someone to show him that he’s capable of much more than anger and snark. A confidant, perhaps even someone he might call a friend one day.

LOYALTY TESTED // As the title says, i’d like to see Tybalt’s loyalty tested. He’s not a loyal person outright, because he will turn on any ally, double cross any foe, only trusting himself, but family is the only thing he holds dear. I want to see Tybalt struggle with whether loyalty or power is more important. I want his limits (while there’s seemingly none) to be pushed. How far is he willing to go to get his cousins out of his way to the proverbial throne? I want the Capulet cousin conflict (ayeee alliteration!). But i want to see the sort of cool, boiling under the surface rivalry that is obviously there (and yanno - some cute fambam moments to cut the tension too, can’t always be conflict, even though Tybalt would say otherwise lol). There is love, there is love and devotion and protection from all sides, but for Tybalt there is also greed and there is envy - and they’re not considered deadly sins for nothing.

MY TOY SOLDIERS // This last one is a totally short term plot, but i would just love to see Tybalt in his role as that ruthless leader, in his element. I want to see the man working with his army of Capulet soldiers, gearing them up to defend the family name, knowing that they’re all incompetent underlings that can’t hold a candle to what he can do, but training them anyways out of obligation. Maybe even seeing the potential in a fellow soldier, offering mentorship at a price of allegiance, gaining himself a little lackey. I feel like Tybalt would love something like that, relish in the idea of pushing someone around.

IN DEPTH

The following THREE questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would were you playing the character.

He sits, slouched lowly upon the leather of the sofa, dark eyes piercing into the boy who practically shakes with pad and pen. Pathetic. A knife, poised in his right hand, digs and then slices through the crispness of the green apple in his left. Tiberius’ gaze does not move once, doesn’t even blink as he raises the knife, the precise sliver of apple draping on the metal blade before he’s sliding it in his mouth. His lips pull into a sneer then as he chews, waving the blade around in an impatiently vague gesture, “So are we going to get on with this, or not? I’m the one doing you a favor - humoring this bullshit.”

“Y-yes. Right. Of course,” the interviewer rushed out, shaking his head, and adjusting the spectacles on his nose, “Um. What is your favorite place in Verona?”

“Your mother’s house,” replied Tiberius, not even a beat missed as his lips twisted wickedly. Full of cheek, he could be when he felt like it. So easily one could almost forget the brute that he’s rumored of being when he spoke like this, with petty words and boyish grins. A chuckle fell from his lips then, another bit of apple sliced off and popped into his mouth, “Ah – “ Tiberius’s gaze lifted towards the ceiling as he thought. “Pass.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“I said ‘Pass’. Or did I stutter?” It wasn’t because he didn’t have a favorite place, because he did. Tiberius could actually say that he held a place in his hollowed heart for the Cathedral of Verona. Surprisingly enough, it had nothing to do with the fact that it was the Capulet Headquarters, the hiding place for all their deals and deeds. If anything, that was a bonus, but the true reasoning had to do with the aura of the church as a whole. There was purity in its very foundation, a sanctity within the walls, and it only held fond memories as he recalled his days spent within the pews, dressed in his Sunday best and marveling at the stained glass, attempting to recall the Latin words to the songs everyone was singing. There was something about the smell of incense and the ringing of the toll bells that brought him some strange semblance of peace in the chaos that was his life, his existence.

But he couldn’t let anyone know that. Sentiment was weakness.

“You can’t–” The captain was quick to cut him off, a clear and present challenge in his voice, “I can’t what? Hm?” Tiberius was sitting up then, leaning over to peer into the boy’s face more closely, all rules of personal space ignored for the sake of intimidation. His head ticked to the right, eyes widening dangerously. “Last I checked, this is my house, capiche? Which means - if I want to pass on this question, I’ll pass it. You wanna know why?” His right hand was twisting the knife with every word, rotating it over and over, plunging it deeper into the flesh of the fruit before he was swiftly ripping it out to point the blade in the other’s face, a silent demonstration, an unspoken threat posed, hanging in the air between them now. “Because I can end this interview.” End you. “And I know you don’t want me to do that.” The boy had the decency to look frightened.

“Next question,” Tiberius demanded coolly, leaning back once more.

“…What is your typical day like?”

“Wanna stick around and find out?” That wolfish grin of his came out to play then. The slow, roguish curve of his lips held a blaring warning, a firm promise, that sticking around to witness a day in the life of Tiberius Capulet was not a sound decision to make. Glory and gore was all it possessed. It was a decision one made if they wanted to lose their life by way of a stray bullet from his gun. It was a decision one made if they wanted to be up to their elbows in enemy blood. It was a decision one made if they reveled in the burn of fine liquor as it slid down their throat at ten in the morning. Because Tiberius did. But it was clear the other wasn’t interested. “Your loss. Wouldn’t be able to handle it anyways.”

“What’d Juliana say, hm?” Tiberius twisted the interview around, eyes curious as he deflected the question from him, before his voice took on a higher octave, mimicking his cousin, childishly, “Well first I wake up, and I drink a few mimosas. Then I go shopping with daddy’s credit card, and to finish off my day, I get a manicure and sigh about my life because it’s – so. hard.” The man was feigning pitiful sobs then, before rolling his eyes, his words holding spite, but his eyes shining with a certain fondness.

He was met with silence. Tiberius supposed that was fair.

“Well. You didn’t say what you actually…do,” the other pointed out, tentatively, slowly learning that asking probing questions could be likened to poking a tiger with a stick.

“I don’t answer questions is what I ‘do’ - how about that,” he snapped back, already growing irritable with this ‘interview.’

Silence fills the room again and all Tiberius can hear is the scratching of the boy’s pen against paper. His nose wrinkles in disdain. He hates that sound, he’s decided.

“What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues, then?”

Tiberius paused, expression hardening, jaw clenching before his eyes darted up to the boy. A nerve had been struck. Not by the question itself but by the mere mentioning of the name Montague in his presence. It made his blood boil beneath his skin, made his trigger finger itch. “I don’t know why it’s still going on.” Truly, it was a fact that baffled Tiberius, and quite frankly it frustrated him, that much was clear. This was a war between families that has been able to withstand generations, and he didn’t understand why one didn’t just take the other out. If he was boss, that’s what he would have done long ago. Now, they were resigned to a ‘ceasefire. A stalemate – and Tiberius Capulet didn’t play chess. He saw no point in giving the enemy rest in a time of peace. To him, this was the time to strike, when the defences were down. That’s how cities were conquered. The Montague family tree would be nothing but memory if he had anything to say about it, burnt to a crisp from the very roots, wiped from history completely. He’d have sent the Montagues and their allies running for the hills, driving them out of Verona forever. He’d have all of their heads, collect them like trophies to put over his fireplace. The Capulets would have had full reign.

But they don’t. Not yet anyways. “They’re a minor roadblock, The Montagues. But they’ll be paved over. Believe that.”

In-Character Para Sample: We do require one in-character para sample. Again, write as much or as little as you need to get your interpretation across.

( A/N: i took the liberty of making my para sample from the last #diveronatask prompt about detailing the character’s most depraved state, a time when they really felt part of the mob + showcasing the kinds of things tybalt had to do to rise in the ranks. so tw: blood, tw: murder, tw: vomit )

“Your body, your responsibility.”

It was the only thing young Tiberius Capulet could hear. Those stone cold words of his uncle, ringing in his ears louder than any toll bell now as he dragged the rolled up black tarpe down the alleyway, hands slipping, shaking. Whether it was from anticipation or anxiousness, to this day the boy would never know.

Kicking open the back door to the macelleria, Tiberius was hit with the aroma first. The savory salt of cured meats. He certainly would have come here for some thinly sliced prosciutto on a typical day, it was the best in the entire city. But God, after this? The seventeen year old probably would never be able to eat sausage, maybe not even a meatball, much less look at them the same way again. Perhaps the vegetarians were onto something…

“You want another assignment, Tiberius, you got it, he said. You’ll enjoy it, he said.”

But Tiberius had a feeling he wasn’t going to enjoy this at all.

Giuseppe Picari was 215 pounds of rat. He was an informant, a sneak, leaking precious information to sources that sought to take the Capulets down. The kill had been fun, for lack of a word more appropriate. Easy. Drawn out and agonizing – a death deserving of a traitor. It brought the Capulet soldier nothing but utter glee to deliver it, dish out his signature brand of cutthroat justice. The lights leaving his eyes could only be compared to the way the sun gave way to the horizon. He delighted in those final breaths, sucked from panicked lungs to fan across his cheeks. Tiberius was the decider. He was Death, personified. The last thing anyone would see before he cast them to Hell with the Capulets regards.

But the hand of his god had graced his shoulder, eyes telling him that he trusted him. They believed that he, and no one else, could carry out such a task for him next. Tiberius would never let down his uncle, he couldn’t. He’s killed for him, destroyed for him and his kingdom, for their family. The boy was already resigned to the idea that Cosimo Capulet was the man he was going to Hell for.

“Take care of it,” his uncle had ordered, leaving not an ounce of room for protest.

“How,” he remembered himself naively asking in response.

“Clever boy,” the older man ran a hand through Tiberius’ dark locks, fingers gripping at the back of his neck, firmly, “You’ll figure it out.”

But that was the thing about Tiberius – he made messes. He was never made to clean them up.

He fired up the bandsaw then, watching as the blade readied itself, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. It was thin, vibrating with a buzz that eerily filled the entire emptied shop. He found a smock then, bright blue and rubbery in material. He shed his jacket and slipped the garment over his head, tying it behind his back before he was rolling the tarpe back out. And there Picari was – lifeless, the angriest red marks at his neck the only evidence of his fight for life as wire sliced into his flesh. Tiberius stared at his work for a long moment before his eyes flitted over to the clock – 3:17. It was three in the morning and with the early meat shipment, he needed to make this quick.

He decided to start with the ‘DNA limbs’. Hands and feet – for prints and nails. Head – for teeth and hair. The rest didn’t matter much, Tiberius reasoned. You couldn’t ID a man by what his innards looked like. And with that, the boy was raising the man’s leg to the small belt, easing his ankle towards the blade. As flesh connected with metal, Tiberius will never admit he closed his eyes that first time, even flinched, feeling the backsplash against his arms, seeing the crimson of blood as it splattered onto him. He’s shot men down, maimed and cut them down by his knife – but never before had he felt so dirty, sawing a man in chunks like pork to be packaged and sold.

His pride tasted like bile as he swallowed it back down his throat.

Clean. The cut was clean, right through flesh and bone with precision. A slice any butcher would have been proud of. The severed foot fell to the ground before Tiberius’ widened eyes.

Not now. You can’t do this now, Uncle needs you. Needs you.

His frozen form went back into action not out of want, but out of necessity. The boy gritted his teeth and continued the process for the other foot, for both hands…and lastly the head. He dropped them all into gym bags, filling them the rest of the way with bricks. He intended to drive right up to the divide, Castelvecchio Bridge, and toss them right off, let them sink to the shadowy depths of the river to be forgotten forever.

He watched as that final bag, carrying Picari’s head, began to drift into the dark waters. And when Tiberius couldn’t see it any longer, he felt like he was finally alone, not being watched by anyone anymore. Himself, the silence of the night, and the reality of his foul deed was all that remained.

It was then that his hands gripped helplessly to the side of the bridge, stomach contracting with such a violence he hardly had the time to pitch forward, the contents of his stomach coming up and splashing into the water below. The boy heaved again, his tongue tasting like acid as he wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand. Eyes watering slightly, throat feeling raw, Tiberius vowed to himself that he would forget this part. That he would remember the boy who took on a man’s job and executed his task with nothing but undaunted confidence, recount the story of the boy who looked in the face of death and tore it apart with his claws in the way that only the Tiger of Verona knew how.

The boy knew one thing after that night, though – that it became easier the second time around. And the third. And the fourth.

EXTRAS: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here!

HERE is my inspo tag for Tybalt on my blog.

CHARACTER ALIGNMENT

CHAOTIC EVIL – A chaotic evil character does whatever his greed, hatred, and lust for destruction drive him to do. He is hot-tempered, vicious, arbitrarily violent, and unpredictable.

Chaotic evil characters trust no one, and see everyone and everything as either obstacles to be overcome, or pawns to be manipulated. a chaotic evil character feels that the only way individuals get ahead is by causing others to fall behind.

Chaotic evil characters are motivated by the desire for personal gain and pleasure. They see absolutely nothing wrong with taking whatever they want by whatever means possible. Laws and governments are the tools of weaklings unable to fend for themselves. The strong have the right to take what they want, and the weak are there to be exploited.

A chaotic evil character never feels compelled to keep his word. He will attack and kill an unarmed foe (those are the best kind). He will kill an innocent. He will use torture to extract information and for pleasure. He will kill for pleasure. A chaotic evil character will use poison. He will not help those in need. He prefers to work alone, as he values his freedom. He does not respond well to higher authority, is distrustful of organizations, and will disregard the law in pursuing his self-interest. He will betray a family member, comrade, or friend whenever it is convenient to do so. Chaotic evil characters do not respect the concepts of self-discipline and honor, because they believe such concepts limit their ability to gain power over others.

TEMPERAMENT

CHOLERIC –

Extroverted, unemotional and task-oriented

Key Strengths: Takes the lead, hard worker, strong-willed, practical, passionate, a good repossession worker, an excellent strongman/woman of the team (drill sergeant at the most extreme), determined, goal-oriented and thrives under criticism.

Key Weaknesses: Hot-tempered, rude, rebellious, can be cruel, stubborn, harsh, bossy, expects complete devotion, insensitive,often condescending, can become psychotic in overbearing situations, workaholic, without compassion or conscience, can be a warmonger, vindictive, a shallow cynic of people’s character, most likely a bad winner/loser, and may nastily misinterpret jokes.

CHARACTER TROPES + HEADCANONS

BLOOD KNIGHT // “Fighting is everything to the Blood Knight. He lives for it. It’s not so much about winning or losing, morality, the motives of his allies, or even the glory, that drives this guy so much as it is the opportunity for a good fight.” If there’s anyone who gets a thrill out of a fight, it’s Tybalt. Violence might not be the answer, but it will be his answer. Much like the war god, Ares himself, Tybalt is everything untamed and destructive, and the streets of Verona are his battlefield. He forged a reputation that had people running for the hills when they knew the Capulets were looking for them. It came to a point when the boy hoped and prayed that deals would fall through, that money would come up short just so he could take a bat to someone’s skull, or a knife to their throat or a bullet to their brain. Tiberius was a thug, a brute running on nothing but adrenaline and fury, and he made sure no one made the fatal mistake of forgetting that. But his love for the fight wasn’t something newly discovered, he was born with his blood boiling, with a war-ready spirit, it’s what made Tiberius a star pupil when he learned martial arts. Like many kids, he started with karate. As he grew up, he moved into more varied techniques, welding his body, quite literally, into the weapon he knew he was. (his favorite styles are muay thai and kali, the latter of which is a weapons based combat technique). He’s always strapped, whether a gun at his waist, a knife tucked in his boot, but he’s never caught without something to defend himself. Though, he’s incredibly resourceful, and can likely find something to cause harm, regardless.

COMBAT PRAGMATIST // “The Combat Pragmatist is a character who is defined by his or her willingness to do anything in a fight to win. He is an unsympathetic character (usually the main antagonist) who shows through his ruthlessness that he honors nothing — not his opponents, not the sport and its customs, not the tournament’s sacred history — but winning.” An expert marksman, a smug fighter, very much used to his victories, Tybalt doesn’t take loss well, so he ensures his wins by any means necessary. He’s underhanded and unscrupulous, never one to believe in a truly fair fight. He is an opportunist, a shrewd fighter and fought as dirtily as they came. He knows how to spot weakness and had no qualms with exploiting it. To him, there are winners and there are losers, and he’s a winner - but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t enjoy his win every step, every swing and every shot along the way.

HAIR TRIGGER TEMPER // “A character with a hair-trigger temper flies into a rage at the slightest provocation. They react explosively to the slightest annoyance. Characters with a hair-trigger temper can be set off by anything. This makes them far less predictable — and far more dangerous.“ Tybalt is a man capable of extreme violence and blinding rage when provoked. His temper is practically legendary in the streets of Verona, and can be triggered in split seconds, oftentimes by minor things. He can go from cool, calm and collected right into angry and borderline psychotic in his actions like the flip of a coin. He’s impulsive. He’s reactive, uninhibited by second guessing and overthinking, fully prepared to throw himself into any and everything, disregarding the risks and possible repercussions of his actions - which of course gets him into a lot of trouble. In school, he was always the kid in a fight, waking up each day prepared to get into it with somebody, always stirring the pot, looking to get a rise out of others, returning home with bloody fists and a bloody face for his cousins or his aunt to clean up because his impulses couldn’t stop him. It’s what led to his expulsion from his Catholic school and the eventual decision to have him placed into military school. They hoped to diminish his fire – but if anything, it amplified.

THE RESENTER // “There’s one thing any Resenter can certainly agree on: Whoever it is that chooses The Chosen One has clearly chosen the wrong one. The grapes are just out of reach, and that makes them all the more sour.” Tybalt is a resenter if there ever was one. From his birth, he’s convinced fate has had it all wrong. He was born to Lady Capulet’s brother, and while she was a beloved aunt and Capulet was a beloved and revered uncle to Tybalt, the fact still remained that he wasn’t their son, meaning that as far as the ‘throne’ was concerned, he would never be the next in line. Juliana, her father’s chosen one, doesn’t even seem to want the position as the Boss, which irks Tybalt to his very core despite how much he loves his cousin. How could someone with the power right at their fingertips be so ungrateful? Tybalt knows if he’s given the chance, he could do far better, take the Capulet name to new and feared heights if he was just allowed.

EVEN EVIL HAS LOVED ONES // “Being evil doesn’t always mean hatred and negativity 24/7. Even evil characters (and real people) can find someone to love.” While Tybalt is absolutely capable of monstrous things, he is capable of love too. It’s a harsh love, but it exists. And he holds it for his family – Cosimo, his aunt, and his cousins, Rafaella and Juliana. His love for them manifests itself in his undying loyalty to them. From he was young, he lived with his cousin, and looks at his aunt and uncle like a second set of parents, being that both of his birth parents are now dead. He idolized them as the Olympian gods they were. He wanted to be everything they were, wanted to take on every single thing they stood for because he was a Capulet too. He looks at Rafaella and Juliana like sisters, and he is their brother – older, more experienced, and meant to protect them. He will fight for them. He will die for them if he has to.

Honorable Mention Tropes: Murder Is the Best Solution, Berserk Button, The Casanova, The Unfettered

#accepted #accepted: tybalt

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armoredcorelegacy · 7 years

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On Growth and Growing Pains in the Armored Core Community - AC Talks, an Armored Core Community Perspective Piece

The following is a multi-part AC Talk discussing the internal issues of the community. This was originally posted on the 19th of Feb, 2017. http://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1spkr3f The year is 2017. There may or may not be a new AC on the horizon, and hope, curiosity, and faith are in the air. But what of the people? What of action, of activity, or more importantly, growth? Where does the AC community stand in comparison with half a decade ago? All in all, 2016 (and first part of 17) has not been too bad. Up until late 2015 the situation had been in a state of constant decline, something which has been consistent since about 2010-ish. The only exception to this were the initial release periods of ACV and VD; but much like 4/FA, new game hype only lasted so long, and the decline continued. There are a few reasons for this. 1. The appearance of key people who have been creating content and innovated things. While still only a handful of people, their impact has been wide reaching. BusterTBM (https://www.youtube.com/user/BusterTBMPlays), an avid old generation fan, Buster began his wildly popular Your AC in LR series in Nov of 2015 which gained alot of traction within the fanbase and continues to be a consistent and interesting source of content. Moodydata (https://www.youtube.com/user/Moodydata), creator of Limit Release began his venture into more community focused content, such as the chat show, streams and unique ideas (dual streams, stream contents, etc.) and commentary on the community and also on the AC series (AC Lore series, let's play, etc.). DominantLegend discovered and proliferated the use of the PPSSPP emulator which now allows people to easily play AC3, SL, LrP and also show it with built in screen capture and screenshot of the emulator. IrregularRaven also made strong discoveries in terms of finessing the technology and also developing interesting concepts. Their (and many others) creations and content helped spawn more content (azure, knightmare, royal angel, darkstar angel, ostardva, okami, ) 2. The change in congregation of the community In olden days most players met up in IRC chats or forums. However, a shift has been taking place where people have been straying away from these and been more fragmented. As of current there is no specific site fansite/forum that the community sticks too. It's been making it quite hard to coordinate and keep people up to date on stuff, and partially contributes to the perceived "inactivity" in the community. Probably one of the most surprising gathering spots was the Armored Core Gamer's Facebook group. In comparison with when I first joined a few years ago, it's now doing significantly better. Instead of waking up to see the occasional spam bot post and raging 4th genner, there's a constant stream of posts from player's, talking about builds, story, unique and wacky stuff and it's quite refreshing with how barren its been the past few years. That being said, the years we've spent in the dark times has kind of taken its toll. This is most evident in discussions; most of them tend to be very shallow, talking about very simple points, likes and dislikes, and in some ways more "casual." But despite that, there is a small but genuine shift towards cooperation and smart discussion. To me, the key moment was when I stopped hearing "4th GEN IS BEST GEN HURR DURR" and instead heard people, particularly newer 5th gen players able to talk about their game and instead of being put down, were encourage and given the viewpoints (more balanced, pointed towards constructive criticism and fairness) even when they weren't fans of the gen themselves. This change in attitude is the important thing as well as the fact that it is still continuing to grow. As long as that can be maintained I see things improving in general as our situation does too. Discord has been an interesting case where it seems to bring alot of new people... but they just tend to lurk. What you get is most of the vets hanging out and not really a whole lot else. Discussion feels sparse and often aren't too great. 3. The explosion of content As mentioned above, the amount of content the community has been producing an incredible amount of content. four years ago if you searched AC on youtube you'd be lucky to find 3-5 videos a week. Nowadays, you can find at least 10-15 per day by different people. On top of that you have the stuff posted on the AC FB page (memes, AC images, etc). I used to have to stretch content out over a week in order to make it least; nowadays I can't even post half of it in a single day. So basically, the community has slowly started to pick itself up (albeit in pieces) and get back into its former shape. But it's not quite there yet, and it's becoming clear we're getting to the point where we need to start being concerned about the problems that will afflict us as we reach a bit more... mid-size. To use an analogy, the community is currently hovering right below an imaginary poverty line. Below this line we're not bringing in more people than we're losing, we don't have enough exposure to garner outside interest in our games and also our content, and we're still very unorganized and uncoordinated which prevents us from executing larger scale projects and activities. In terms of the games themselves, it means we have very few people actively playing any of the games, and for the most part there are few tournaments/events that occur. In order to keep moving forward, there is a few things we need to do: 1. Coordinate and organize consistent play times for games. It doesn't matter which game or console, make sure there are constant times where people are on and playing 2. Support community content. Like, tweet, and share any AC content you find so that other people (both fan and non-fans). Follow and like any pages or twitters which post content. Exposure and spreading the word is key. 3. Know where to find people. ACL, RR, ACG, AC Gamers group, Gamefaqs, know where to find where the various groups of people hang out. Be proactive. This is really a combination of everything above, but the key thing about the community now is that we cannot afford to be complacent. We need to be willing to pour our time and energy to make that final, hard push to get beyond that imaginary poverty line. Conclusion The AC community is on the slow and painful road to recovery, but we are still a long way off. Not enough people are active, games still have too few players, and content is still not getting enough exposure, and when it becomes more obvious when you talk to members of the community and their frustrations. And unfortunately the only way we can solve these issue is to keep grinding and pushing. Even if we host rooms with days where no one joins, or create videos with only a few views, even if it pains us that we don't get what we deserve, what have to keep pushing. We are still a community on the fringe and struggling to survive; we cannot rely on external sources but instead on ourselves. The final push will be laborious but if we want any hope of changing our situation, we need to keep going. -FromCheng

#Armored Core #Armored Core Community #Armored Core Legacy #ACTalks

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ibilenews · 4 years

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How Greece flattened the coronavirus curve

Athens, Greece - When Greece cancelled carnival celebrations in late February, many people thought the measure excessive. In the western city of Patra, which hosts Greece's most flamboyant carnival parade, thousands defied the ban and took to the streets.

"The government has ordered an end to all municipal activities … but this is a private enterprise. No one can shut it down," said a jubilant reporter for the local Ionian TV in front of a crew dressed up as 17th-century French courtiers. "They're gathering here on St George's Square, where the [Greek] revolution began in 1821, and that's symbolic," he said.

Greeks quickly put their revolutionary spirit aside, however, and largely heeded government advice to remain indoors. The result has been a remarkably low number of deaths - 81 by Tuesday, compared to more than 17,000 in neighbouring Italy. Even adjusted for population sizes, Italy's fatality rate is almost 40 times greater.

Compared with other European Union members, too, Greece has fared better. Its fatalities are far lower than in Belgium (2,035) or the Netherlands (1,867), which have similar populations, but a much higher gross domestic product (GDP).

"State sensitivity, co-ordination, resolve, swiftness, seem not to be matters of economic magnitude," Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis recently told a pared-down session of parliament.

"Our schools closed before we had the first fatality. Most countries followed a week or two later, after they had mourned the loss of dozens," he said.

Starting from a weak position

George Pagoulatos, a political economist who heads the Hellenic Foundation for European and Foreign Policy (ELIAMEP), a think-tank, agrees that the government displayed "a very professional, managerial approach early on", albeit largely dictated by inherent national weaknesses.

Greece had very shallow resources with which to tackle a large outbreak. A decade of austerity saw its national healthcare expenses cut by three-quarters. Its intensive care beds numbered just 560 last month, though the government has now raised that to 910, and hired more than 4,000 extra doctors and nurses. Another weakness is that at least a quarter of Greece's population is over 60, and elderly patients have been deemed particularly at risk from coronavirus.

All this has meant that a forward line of defence was Greece's only real defence - but it has paid off.

Greece is using only a tenth of its ICU beds, and has plenty of capacity left over.

The legacy of the economic crisis

Pagoulatos believes that austerity may also help to explain how Greeks put aside their traditionally defiant attitude towards authority.

"Maybe it has helped that Greece has been in an almost constant [state of] crisis management since 2010 … we've been well past the kind of complacency the economies that have been doing well might allow themselves," he says. "A society that has undergone hardship for a prolonged period knows when personal sacrifice is necessary or inevitable."

As the prime minister's economics adviser, Alex Patelis was present at many of the top-level coronavirus meetings, he says that the Greek economic meltdown of the past decade did indeed play a role.

"We want to show that Greece is a serious country. We want people to say that Greece handled this well," Patelis says. "If we succeed, it will have a multiplier effect on our reputation. Greece emerged from a 10-year economic crisis with its credibility crippled, and we want to get past being labelled as the black sheep of Europe."

Greece ended up borrowing 255 billion euros ($277bn) from its eurozone partners in three humiliating bailouts that cost the nation its financial sovereignty and earned it a reputation for thriftless habits.

Yet Greece may now have scored two bull's eyes in winning back its reputation. Just as carnival was being cancelled, Turkey announced it was opening its borders to refugees bound for Europe. Mitsotakis made the controversial decision to push them back. Though fraught with legal and moral controversy, the policy was effective on the ground and won plaudits from Europe's leaders, who called Greece "our European shield".

Handling two simultaneous crises effectively has won Mitsotakis a reputation for good management, in contrast to leaders who treated coronavirus with contempt in the early stages and whose countries are reaping exponential rates of infection weeks later.

Another recession and more austerity?

On March 10, Greece closed its schools, and within the next week all public commercial venues such as cinemas, restaurants and shops. Even its vaunted tourism industry was sacrificed as hotels and museums were shuttered.

Overnight, large chunks of the retail and service economy, normally tax generators, became major government expenses instead. The cost of subsidies and tax deferrals to businesses and 2.4 million affected workers for March and April alone runs to 5.1 billion euros ($5.56bn).

How did a country that only recovered from one recession two years ago so quickly decide to risk another?

"There is a clear trade-off between the health consequences and the economic consequences," says Panos Tsakloglou, an economist who acted as the chief adviser to the finance ministry at the height of the recession. "The earlier you take the social distancing measures, the heavier the blow for the economy … it's not an easy trade-off."

Patelis says the government's crisis management team turned this argument on its head. "The consensus was that the worse the health problem becomes, the worse the economic fallout will be,". "It's not as though you're never going to have to take measures … And there was the fact that if you did not take measures, people would take them for themselves. In reality the dilemma is false."

Again, Greece's previous economic crisis seems to have indirectly pushed it towards its decision. Ever since it graduated from its austerity programme in August 2018, Greece has been selling government bonds when market conditions were favourable in an effort to rebuild its credit profile and lower its long-term interest rates. Raising money without any pressing need for it means that the government has cash flow.

"The 'cushion' [for servicing debt] is 15.7 billion euros [$17bn]. The central government's ready cash in the central and commercial banks amounts to another 20 billion euros [$21.8bn]," the finance minister recently told parliament.

This keeps Greece in its hard-won financial health only for the short term, warns Tsakloglou.

"Estimates tend to say that the fixed cost [of coronavirus] to the Greek budget is 3.5 to five billion euros [$3.8bn-$5.4bn] a month," the former finance ministry adviser said.

"My suspicion is that this is not a fixed number throughout the year. Tourism activity, for example, is highly seasonal. The direct and indirect revenue the Greek state collects from this activity tends to be concentrated in the summer. I tend to believe the cost is likely to be lower now and higher in the coming months … The [cash buffer] can get us out of the market for about three months. If we are parsimonious it may be a bit longer, but not very much longer.”

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dalewood · 6 years

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New Post has been published on Its just life!

New Post has been published on http://bit.ly/2lTj9ry

Muslim - "We Are Going to Burn You Alive!"

Muslim – “We Are Going to Burn You Alive!” Muslim Persecution of Christians, June 2017

by Raymond Ibrahim November 5, 2017 at 5:00 am

Muslim, Islam and Christianity – A thought provoking article by Raymond Ibrahim, the most gentle of religeons and at the same time the most vicious, the UK and most of the western world give total freedom of religeon but that is not reciprocated whereas Islam only accepts one religeon. Are we seeing our very way of life and belief systems being over run or are we over reacting, join in the debate at the end of this article, all views on either side of the debate are essential to get a balance!

https://www.gatestoneinstitute.org/11299/muslim-persecution-christians-june

“They defend freedom of worship in the West in order to ban it in their homeland. They fight to build mosques in someone else’s homeland whilst destroying churches and synagogues where they have power.” — Kamel Abderrahmani, Arab journalist, Algeria.

“ISIS publicly caged and burned alive 19 Yazidi girls for refusing to have sex with ISIS fighters, according to local activists. Yazidi leaders last year showed Fox News photographs of the Islamic jihadists burning babies to death on a slab of sheet metal, photos that show tiny, roasted bodies side by side as flames engulfed them.” — ISIS in Iraq, Fox News, June 14.

The Erdogan government seized at least 50 Syriac churches, monasteries, and Christian cemeteries, many of which were still active, in Mardin province, and declared them “state property.” — Turkey.

A presidential order replaced Christian education with Islamic Studies in secondary schools. While the subject, “Christian Religious Knowledge,” no longer exists, Islamic, Arab, and French studies have been introduced in the new curriculum…. The Christian Association of Nigeria further denounced this move “to force Islamic studies down the throats of non-adherents of the religion,” as being an “agenda deliberately crafted towards Islamization.” — Nigeria.

Jesuit Father Henri Boulad, an Islamic scholar of the Egyptian Greek Melkite rite, pulled no punches in an interview concerning the motives of Islamic terror and Western responses to it. “Islam is an open-ended declaration of war against non-Muslims” and those who carry out acts of violence and intolerance are only doing what their creed requires, said the priest. The interview continues:

Those who fail to recognize the real threat posed by Islam are naïve and ignorant of history, he said, and unfortunately many in the Church fall into this category.

Citing a letter he wrote last August to Pope Francis, Father Boulad said that “on the pretext of openness, tolerance and Christian charity — the Catholic Church has fallen into the trap of the liberal left ideology which is destroying the West.”

“Anything that does not espouse this ideology is immediately stigmatized in the name of ‘political correctness,'” he said.

The priest went so far as to chastise Pope Francis himself—a fellow Jesuit—suggesting that he has fallen into this trap as well.

“Many think that a certain number of your positions are aligned with this ideology and that, from complacency, you go from concessions to concessions and compromises in compromises at the expense of the truth,” the priest wrote to Francis.

Christians in the West and in the East, he wrote the Pope, “are expecting something from you other than vague and harmless declarations that may obscure reality.”

“It is high time to emerge from a shameful and embarrassed silence in the face of this Islamism that attacks the West and the rest of the world. A systematically conciliatory attitude is interpreted by the majority of Muslims as a sign of fear and weakness,” he said.

“If Jesus said to us: Blessed are the peacemakers, he did not say to us: Blessed are the pacifists. Peace is peace at any cost, at any price. Such an attitude is a pure and simple betrayal of truth,” he said.

The priest also stated his belief that the West is in an ethical and moral debacle, and its defense of Islam is a denial of truth.

“By defending at all costs Islam and seeking to exonerate it from the horrors committed every day in its name, one ends up betraying the truth,” he wrote.

June’s roundup of Muslim persecution of Christians around the world includes, but is not limited to, the following:

Muslim Attacks on and Desecration of Christian Churches

Philippines: On June 21 in the village of Malagakit, the Bangsamoro Islamic Freedom Fighters (BIFF) — which earlier pledged allegiance to the Islamic State — vandalized a Catholic church. Describing the desecration as “wicked,” the chief police inspector said the “crucifix and images of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ were destroyed while the sacred hosts were thrown all over the floor.” Cardinal Quevedo, who condemned the sacrilege in the strongest terms possible, challenged the leaders of the BIFF to punish its men who desecrated the chapel: “If the BIFF wants to have an image as a respecter of all religions, it must punish its members who perpetrated the odious desecration and educate all its members in strictly respecting other religions,” the prelate said. “Last month, terrorist gunmen also desecrated St. Mary’s Cathedral in Marawi, some 150 kilometers from Cotabato,” the report noted. “The gunmen were seen on a video [here] destroying religious images and burning the cathedral.”

Egypt: An Islamic terror cell consisting of six members, two of whom were described as “suicide bombers,” planning on bombing yet another Coptic Christian church in Alexandria, was exposed and arrested by police before they could launch their attack. According to a statement from the Egyptian Interior Ministry, “one attacker had planned to detonate an explosive vest inside the church and the other to blow himself up when police arrived to the scene.” Several similar, recent attacks on Christian churches in Egypt had left about 100 churchgoers dead and hundreds severely wounded.

Separately, authorities raided a church-owned building being used by the local Coptic Christian community for worship. After police removed furniture, Christian iconography and other items from the building, they chained down the doors to prevent Christians from entering the building. Christians had for some time tried to have the building legally recognized as a church, only to face a backlash from both local Muslims and authorities. According to a local Christian:

“During the early hours of Friday, June 16, we [Christians] were surprised to find the furniture, rugs, icons, pictures, and worship utensils … had been thrown outside and the building closed down with seals and chains. We took the belongings into our homes. We don’t know why the police did that.”

When dozens of church leaders met with the local governor insisting that they needed a place to worship, he told them the building they were using had been found to be in a state of disrepair and needed to be demolished.

Algeria: On June 9, the state oversaw the demolition of the Catholic church located in Sidi Moussa, 15 miles from Algiers. According to Kamel Abderrahmani, an Arab journalist who covered the incident:

“Algerian authorities found a very shallow argument to justify this anti-Christian act. According to the authorities concerned, the church was listed in the red category by the technical inspection services. The legitimate question that arises from this is, since the building was deemed in danger of collapse, why was it not restored and listed as part of the national heritage? The statement of the mayor was of unprecedented clarity. He had announced the construction of a mosque and a Quranic school on the same site. Such statements caused outrage, as many saw the demolition as an act of vandalism.”

Kamel also noted how the Algerian government had demolished other churches on other pretexts, and concluded by calling Muslim governments and activists “hypocrites”:

“If the mayor of Paris or Rome had destroyed a mosque to build a church, what would have happened? Sunni Muslims would have shouted scandal and Islamophobia! This question shows the hypocrisy of Islamists and their double standards. They defend freedom of worship in the West in order to ban it in their homeland. They fight to build mosques in someone else’s homeland whilst destroying churches and synagogues where they have power.”

Iraq: In June 2015, when Mosul was under the Islamic State’s control, the group had announced it was converting St. Ephrem Church into a “mosque of the mujahedeen.” The cross from the dome was broken off, and all Christian symbols were purged from within the house of worship. Now, months after Mosul was liberated, the occupied church was exposed as being used as a sex-slave chamber where approximately 200 Yazidi girls and women were abused by the Islamic State. A report recounts “ISIS’ depravity towards Yazidi women and girls. On the floor of the iconic house of worship lie tiny pieces of pink and yellow underwear and flower headbands belonging to the very young Yazidi sex slaves the barbaric terrorist group took captive.” The June 14 report also notes:

“Last week, according to local activists, ISIS publicly caged and burned alive 19 Yazidi girls for refusing to have sex with ISIS fighters, according to local activists. Yazidi leaders last year showed Fox News photographs of the Islamic jihadists burning babies to death on a slab of sheet metal, photos that show tiny, roasted bodies side by side as flames engulfed them….The butchered Christian building and its Yazidi remnants serve as chilling reminders of the genocide experienced by the two religious minorities.”

Spain: A Muslim man stormed a Christian church during a marriage ceremony, and started shouting “Allahu Akbar” — “Allah is greatest.” He “tried to throw liturgical objects around him to attack the priest and churchgoers,” according to a report. A number of wedding attendants managed to apprehend the 22-year-old Moroccan and hand him over to police, who reportedly charged him with “disturbing public order, crime against religious feelings and threats.” Police also investigated the church for potential explosives before permitting the wedding ceremony to resume. According to the officiating priest, the incident began when a “group of young troublemakers” started making offensive noises at the back of the church.

“Suddenly, someone started to shout and charged at the altar. A lot of people, including the bride’s mother, were crying, and there were people who had already jumped out of the pews because we did not know whether this person came alone or not, or if he was armed.”

Turkey: The Erdogan government seized at least 50 Syriac churches, monasteries, and Christian cemeteries, many of which were still active, in Mardin province, and declared them “state property.” According to the report, “The Syriacs have appealed to the Court for the cancellation of the decision.” The Chairman of Mor Gabriel Monastery Foundation — a 1,600 year-old monastery that was still in use and also seized — said, “We started to file lawsuits and in the meantime our enquiries continued.”

The Syriac Orthodox Mor Gabriel Monastery is one of at least 50 Syriac churches, monasteries, and Christian cemeteries in Mardin province, Turkey that were recently seized by the Turkish government and declared “state property.” (Image source: Nevit Dilmen/Wikimedia Commons)

The Muslim Slaughter of Christians

Pakistan: A Chinese Christian couple—Lee Zing Yang, 24, and his wife Meng Lisi, 26 — were abducted in Quetta and executed on the accusation that they were preaching Christ to Muslims; the Islamic State claimed responsibility for their killing and released “video footage showing the bloodied body of the Chinese man, Lee Zing Yang, taking his last breaths,” says a report. The Pakistani government cited the murdered couple’s “misuse of the terms of a business visa” as playing a major role in their deaths: “instead of engaging in any business activity they went to Quetta and under the garb of learning Urdu language … were actually engaged in preaching.”

Kenya: Armed Muslims connected to neighboring Somalia’s Islamic terrorist group, Al Shabaab, walked into an elementary school compound in Garissa and shot a Christian teacher to death. When a Muslim teacher interfered with their attempts to abduct another Christian teacher, “Al Shabaab got angry,” reported another anonymous teacher, “and told the teacher, ‘We are going to teach you a lesson for protecting the infidels,’ and immediately the two were carried away to unknown destination”—but not before the Somali militants proceeded to “beat Muslims of Somali descent at the school for housing Kenyan Christians.”

Philippines: More news and revelations concerning the jihadi uprising that began in late May in the Islamic City of Marawi appeared in June. The eight or nine Christians originally reported as being tied together and shot dead, execution style, had apparently first been ordered to recite the Islamic confession of faith, which they refused to do, an act leading to their execution. “Their bodies were reportedly thrown into the ditch, and a signboard was placed beside them reading ‘Munafik,’ which means traitor or liar,” said a report. “The assailants also asked Police Senior Inspector Freddie Solar to recite the Muslim creed, and as a non-Muslim [Christian] he too declined and was killed.” Seventeen others were found ritually decapitated or butchered by the Islamic State-affiliated militants. A priest and 13 parishioners from the St. Mary Cathedral were also kidnapped; the priest “appeared in a propaganda video on Tuesday (May 30) pleading for his life.”

Egypt: More eyewitness details concerning the Islamic State massacre of 29 Christian pilgrims traveling to a Coptic monastery in the Egyptian desert in May 2017 emerged. One ten-year old boy, who witnessed the slaughter of his father, recounted:

“We [he and his 14-year-old brother] saw dead people, just dumped on the ground. They asked my father for identification then told him to recite the Muslim profession of faith. He refused, said he was Christian. They shot him and everyone else with us in the car…. Every time they shot someone they would yell God is great [Allahu Akbar].”

Although President Sisi had depicted the terrorists as “foreigners,” the ten-year-old said that the fifteen assailants “had Egyptian accents like us and they were all masked except for two of them … They looked like us and did not have beards.” The same report states that, a month after the massacre, the Egyptian government had failed to provide adequate security for the residents of Dayr Jarnous, a Christian village that was home to seven of those killed, “and has done nothing to help the victims’ families.”

Muslim Attacks on Christian Religious Freedom

Pakistan: A new blasphemy case was registered against yet another Christian. After Mohammad Irfan refused to pay a repair bill to Ishfaq Masih, a Christian who fixed his bicycle, the Muslim denounced the Christian of blaspheming against Islamic prophet Muhammad, leading to the Christian’s arrest. According to Masih’s cousin:

“During the argument, Irfan said that he obeys only one master, Prophet Muhammad, to which Ishfaq said that he was a Christian and his faith ends at Christ. Upon hearing this, Irfan raised a clamor that Ishfaq had blasphemed against Muhammad. Soon a mob gathered at the spot, and someone called the police, who took Ishfaq into custody.”

Mohammad Irfan also rallied a number of other Muslims — including Mohammad Irfan, Mohammad Nawaz, Mohammad Naveed, and Mohammad Tahir — who claimed that they “heard Ishfaq Masih say derogatory words against the Muslim prophet.” According to the Christian’s lawyer, only one of the four “witnesses” was even present during the altercation.

“Irfan had gathered the other men, including the complainant Mohammad Ishfaq, and they then concocted the allegation against Ishfaq Masih and got him arrested…. The FIR [First Information Report] is quite weak, as it does not contain any specific blasphemous words that my client may have allegedly said…. It also shows that the police did not even bother to investigate the charge before registering a case against the poor man. This is the routine practice of the police in blasphemy cases, and it’s a shame that nothing is being done to stop it.”

Separately, after a Christian couple was slaughtered for preaching Christ among Muslims (see Slaughter section), a South Korean Christian was arrested for allegedly also engaging in “illegal preaching activities.” Authorities revoked his visa and ordered him to leave the Muslim nation.

Philippines: A Muslim teacher in the Muslim majority island of Mindanao forced Jen-Jen, a young Christian schoolgirl apparently of Islamic origins, to say Islamic prayers in class or else fail the class. According to the report:

“Despite being uncomfortable, Jen-Jen learned the words of the prayer to recite to the teacher. But rather than asking Jen-Jen to say the words in an oral test, the teacher later announced students would be required to go to a mosque and pray the prayer aloud.”

When the girl and another Christian classmate told the teacher that praying in a mosque contradicts their faith in Christ, the Muslim teacher “ignored the request and told them to turn away from Christ,” adding: “You must comply or else you will fail in this subject. You should revert to your Islamic faith.” The girl was then “forced to complete the long walk to the mosque while wearing a traditional Muslim dress and veil covering, despite burning up with a fever.”

“The schoolgirl got so sick, however, that she lost consciousness and blacked out. Even as she came back to, the teacher refused to excuse her from listening to the entirety of the Muslim imam’s message. Since the day at the Mosque, Jen-Jen has been pressured to conform to many other Muslim practices, such as fasting during the month of Ramadan…. [O]ther students have also teased and bullied Jen-Jen because of her faith, sometimes bombarding her as she walked to and from school and pushing her or insulting her.”

Malaysia: The Centre for Human Rights Research and Advocacy — the statement of purpose of which is to define and promote “Human rights from the Muslim perspective” — asserted that all forms of Christian evangelicalism should be banned. According to the CEO of the Centre, Azril Mohd Amin, “It is a fact that the groups that are spreading Christian propaganda to Malaysians, especially Muslims, will keep up their efforts as they believe that there is no effective law that can stop them.” Jo-Anna Henley Rampas, a leading member of a more progressive and inclusive party, responded by saying this move is “reflective of the erosion of religious freedom in the country” thanks to the “federal government’s failure to instil proper understanding, tolerance and harmony among citizens.”

Muslim Contempt for and Abuse of Christians

Pakistan: A Christian sanitary worker died after pious Muslim doctors who were fasting for Ramadan refused to touch the “unclean” infidel’s body. Thirty-year-old Irfan Masih had fallen unconscious along with three other sanitary staff while cleaning a manhole on June 1. He was rushed to a governmental hospital where the doctors refused to treat him; he died hours later. “The doctors refused to treat him because they were fasting and said my son was napaak [unclean],” said the mother of the deceased. A few weeks later, a court, responding to complaints from hospital officials accusing the family and friends of Irfan of terrorizing the hospital, ordered police to register a complaint against them. “The hospital has levied a false charge against us in order to save themselves,” explained a cousin of the deceased, who also works in sanitation.

“The doctors were responsible for Irfan’s death, because he would have been alive today had they not refused to treat him immediately. Our outburst against the doctors was natural, but we did not damage or steal anything from the hospital. It is a lie, and even the police know it.”

A senior police official admitted that “we believe that the hospital is making frivolous accusation against these people….. The hospital is ostensibly trying to pressure the family to withdraw their case.”

Egypt: Suzan Ashraf Rawy, a 22-year-old Christian woman, was reportedly kidnapped on the morning of June 5 while walking to the Coptic Orthodox church where she worked. “When she did not return home that evening, her mother called the church,” an area Christian leader said. “That is when she discovered Suzan did not arrive at the church in the morning. It is expected that she has been abducted.” She is the third Christian woman in the area of Al Khosous, a predominantly Christian town on the outskirts of Cairo, to disappear since May 30, when a Copt accidentally shot and killed a Muslim bystander during a quarrel with someone else. “Since then, the Muslims started to wage revenge attacks on the Christian community living there, especially the women,” the Christian leader said. According to the report:

“Two other young Coptic Christian women disappeared without a trace after the May 30 incident. The families of the women suspected to have been kidnapped have received no communication from alleged kidnappers, the sources said. Area Muslims have long disfigured Christian women for not wearing veils by throwing acid on them, but there has been a surge in such attacks in the past few weeks, sources said…. Fear has seized Coptic Christians in the area, with women afraid to leave their homes. One of the church women’s meetings, which Rawy attended, has been suspended until further notice out of fear for the safety of the participants.”

Bangladesh: Three Muslim men sexually assaulted a 20-year-old Catholic girl in the village of Madarpur on June 18. Her loud cries drew the attention of village locals who came to her rescue, prompting the rapists to flee. After her parents filed a complaint, they began to receive threatening messages to withdraw it or else. “Last year her family was involved in a land dispute,” adds the report. “The violence – a premeditated attack – was also witnessed by the police, deployed by the Muslims who wanted to expropriate the land. The young woman, along with her parents, was forced to leave the house and live in a slum.”

Pakistan: The home of a journalist who extensively covers the plight of religious minorities in the Muslim nation was vandalized. When Rana Tanveer, chief reporter of The Express Tribune, went to the police, they failed to register a formal complaint. Days later, an unidentified vehicle intentionally ran over Tanveer, while he was riding his motorcycle in Lahore on Friday, June 9. According to the report:

“Tanveer underwent surgery for a fracture in his pelvic bone on Saturday. His recovery may take months and he has expressed fears for his safety as well as that of his family…. Tanveer says that his work on exposing the poor treatment meted out to the country’s religious minorities like the Ahmadis and the Christians has made him a target of extremists.”

Sudan: A court in El Gedaref fined a number of Christians for selling food and tea during Ramadan, the Muslim month of fasting: “This is a clear discrimination against Christians and contrary to the slogans of religious coexistence launched by the Sudan Government for the international community,” contended one defense layer. About a dozen people were each fined $2,000 Sudanese dollars ($298 USD).

Iraq: “[T]roubling issues related to discrimination and even violence targeting ethnic and religious minorities” are widespread in Kurdish-ruled territories, one report found, adding:

“Christian citizens of the KRI [Kurdish Region of Iraq] have issued complaints and held protests against Kurdish residents for attacking and seizing their land and villages in the provinces of Dohuk and Erbil…. Some Assyrian Christians accuse Kurdish government and party officials of taking lands for personal use or financial gain. These Christians believe they are specifically targeted as part of a policy to Kurdify historically Christian areas…. Minorities continue to fear growing extremism in the majority population, which they believe could threaten them in the long term.”

Most Kurds are Sunni Muslims.

Nigeria: A presidential order replaced Christian education with Islamic Studies in secondary schools. While the subject, “Christian Religious Knowledge” no longer exists, Islamic, Arab, and French studies have been introduced in the new curriculum. The Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), which protested the new changes in front of the presidential palace, currently filled by a Muslim, described the change as “a time-bomb, obnoxious, divisive and ungodly…. To us in CAN, its introduction is an ill-wind that blows nobody any good for so many reasons.” According to the report, “The end result [of these changes] is that a Christian student will be left with no option than to settle for Islamic Arabic Studies since French teachers are more or less non-existent in secondary schools,” all of which “will deprive pupils of moral trainings which CRK [Christian Religious Knowledge] offers.” The Christian Association of Nigeria further denounced this move “to force Islamic studies down the throats of non-adherents of the religion,” as being an “agenda deliberately crafted towards Islamization.”

Separately, a Christian priest and his companions who were abducted by Islamic militants in April told of their experiences in June, when they were released. Fr. Sam Okwuidegbe identified his “kidnappers as Fulani herdsmen, an Islamic radical group that has killed thousands of people in Nigeria, including many Christians, in the past couple of decades” notes the report. That he was unable to recall any phone numbers for the Islamic terrorists to call to negotiate a ransom for his release “triggered a series of beatings,” says Fr. Sam.

“they huddled me up, hands and feet tied to the back with a rope like a goat before a kill. They removed my cassock, then my shirt, threw me into the dirt on the ground, and began to beat me with the back of their guns, they’d kick me hard on my sides, slap across my face, push and pull me hard across the ground … one of them said ‘We are going to burn you alive!'”

Another man in captivity did manage to recall a phone number, a ransom was set, and the men were eventually released.

Due to the ongoing bleeding of Nigeria’s Christian population — increasingly at the hands of Muslim Fulani herdsmen and not just the Islamic terror group, Boko Haram — a number of leading Nigerian churches issued a statement calling on the government “not to abdicate its responsibility of protecting all Nigerian citizens.” According to the communique:

“We are worried that the murderous activities of Fulani herdsmen have continued unabated and unchecked. The recurring and orchestrated killings of Christians in Southern Kaduna, mass killings in parts of Benue State and others across the country have increased suspicion that the so-called herdsmen are an extension of terrorist groups carrying out an evil agenda of ethnic and religious cleansing. Characteristically, these mindless attacks are often unprovoked.”

Earlier in January, Bishop Diamond Emuobor, chairman of the Christian Association of Nigeria, said that, because Christians are facing increasing dangers at the hands of extremists, so “Christians should defend themselves and he who has no sword, should sell his coat and buy one to defend himself. We are all human beings, nobody should catch you like a snail and slaughter because you believe in Jesus Christ.”

About this Series

While not all, or even most, Muslims are involved, persecution of Christians by Muslims is growing. The report posits that such Muslim persecution is not random but rather systematic, and takes place irrespective of language, ethnicity, or location.

Raymond Ibrahim is the author ofCrucified Again: Exposing Islam’s New War on Christians(published by Regnery with Gatestone Institute, April 2013).

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