#he’s about to face WHITE DIAMOND and he /could/ debate over whether he should ‘kill her’ or not (ugh) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phinksimp · 3 years

Note

Jealous phinks headcanon please!

Oooooo I love jealous Phinks! Hope you enjoy my little drabble!

You sighed as you walked to the restaurant with your best friend and her boyfriend.

"Y/N, are you sure you don't want to wait for Phinks?"

You shook your head. "I'm pretty sure he won't be coming."

Small arguments were a common occurrence between you two. There was often a lot on Phinks' plate, and he tended to take his frustration out on you. While he wasn't one to get physical with you; he often disregarded your feelings and would say things he didn't truly mean.

To you, it was just "Phinks being Phinks", most of the time. But the last argument over spending too much time at your job had crossed the line for both of you.

"Why do you need to work anyways?! If you ever need anything, all you have to do is tell me and I'll get it for you!" Phinks went to grab your hand, but you quickly slapped it away.

"By 'get it for me', you mean steal it, right?!" You pushed past him to grab your purse. "I don't know what the hell you're doing most of the time...but from now on; I don't want anything from you if it's stolen." You glared at him before walking out the door. "I can't blame you though. What kind of real job could you get with your qualifications? All you're good for is hurting people."

You replayed the argument in your head over and over as you made your way to the restaurant. Part of you knew you had to apologize eventually, but part of you knew you may have gone too far.

"Y/N!"

You turned to see the son of your boss waving as he walked towards you and your friends. He had recently moved from another country to learn under his father, as he would be the one to take over in a few years.

His blue eyes contrasted against his dark black hair and fair skin. His black suit with a slightly unbuttoned white dress shirt showed off his figure. There were several people in the office who had developed a crush on him.

"Oh, hi Charles! Grabbing dinner?"

You hit your friend discreetly on the leg as soon as you felt her nudge you. She whispered out the side of her mouth;

"Woah Y/N, who is this guy?!"

Charles smiled once he caught up to your group. "Yeah, I don't really know this area yet though. Do you have any places you can recommend?"

Your friend chimed in before you could speak.

"We're actually heading to a really good izakaya right now. You're more than welcome to join us!"

You screamed internally, praying he'd say no.

"Why I'd love to!"

You shot your friend a glare as she replied with a wink. She never really took a liking to Phinks, saying she could tell he was "no good" despite anything you would tell her. Of course she would take this opportunity.

You looked back as Charles walked beside you, hoping Phinks would show up.

---

Phinks groaned as he stood outside the restaurant, his hands in the pockets of his tracksuit.

Why the hell am I here? Is this even the right place?

He was still upset over your last argument, but he hated to drag things longer than they needed to be.

He shot up slightly when he saw your friend and her boyfriend step out of the restaurant for a smoke.

Phinks went to approach them, but something told him to keep his distance. He hid behind a wall, listening intently.

"Wow Y/N's new boss is a real catch! Handsome, rich and super nice...unlike no brows." Your friend laughed as she took a puff of her cigarette. "I think he likes her too. I hope she wakes up. It's not like Phinks is the type to get married, and it's what she's dreamt of since we were kids! 3 years and not even a hint of anything happening. I don't know how she tolerates him!"

Phinks clenched his fists as his blood went cold. He pondered for a minute; debating whether or not he should bother looking.

He took a deep breath before glancing through the window.

There you were, and there he was; his arm casually draped along the back of the bench seat behind you.

Phinks had half a mind to kill him right there and then.

He peeked at the window once again, his heart dropping when he watched you laugh.

It had been a while since he had seen you smile like that..

He grit his teeth, thinking about what to do. His jealousy was beginning to grow, and he knew he would go off in a blind rage if he let it get to him..

His body instinctively began to wind his right arm, but he stopped immediately. Instead turning back home to your apartment.

Phinks remembered you mentioning your new boss in passing, but never took much notice to it.

The man was successful, handsome, well mannered and well dressed.

Everything he was not.

All you're good for his hurting people.

Phinks looked up at the sky, your words repeating in his head.

You're right, Y/N. That's all I'm really good for...

-------

You did your make up in the bathroom as you checked your cellphone for the time. Charles would be picking you up for a corporate meeting in 20 minutes.

It had been 3 months since your argument.

3 months since you last saw or heard from Phinks.

It drove you mad that there was no way for you to contact him. He had left his cellphone at the apartment and you didn't know anyone he worked with.

You hoped he had just been called away for a job suddenly.

But you figured that what you said was unforgivable. You knew that despite his tough and cold demeanor; Phinks was a sensitive soul.

Maybe he wasn't coming back this time.

You wanted to apologize for what you said. It wasn't true. There was so much good to him that even he failed to see at times.

You quickly packed your purse as you made your way outside, not wanting to make your boss wait.

Your heart dropped as soon as you walked out the doors of your building.

There he was.

He wore a grey suit with a white dress shirt.

You panicked when you saw his arm in a sling, and his black eye.

Your body shook as you approached him, mixed feelings of guilt, relief and worry overwhelmed you.

"Phinks..."

He adjusted a duffle bag along his shoulder as he shot you a soft smile.

"Where are you going, Y/N?"

The question took you by surprise. "I'm going to work. My boss, well the son of the boss is picking me up."

Phinks felt his blood begin to boil. The images of you laughing with Charles in the restaurant making his jaw clench. "Like hell he is!"

Phinks made his way over to you, wrapping his uninjured arm around your waist as he pulled you into a kiss. He had missed you over the past few months, his motivation being the goal of never wanting to see you with Charles or any other man again.

He finally pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath.

"Quit your job, Y/N."

You pulled away completely in a knee jerk reaction to his words. "No way! What's wrong with you?! I don't even know where you've been! I still have bills--"

"I've got enough money for us."

He placed the duffel bag in front of you.

Your heart sank, expecting to find wads of cash.

What did he do this time?!

Instead, Phinks pulled out an envelope with a book.

You took it hesitantly, your eyes widening as you read the pages. Several deposit entries filling each page. "What the... you were--"

Phinks nodded his head. "Yupp. Heaven's Arena." He laughed. "None of that money was stolen. So you can save your breath." He made his way over to you, flipping to the first page of the bank book as he held your left hand. "The account is under your name, just in case anything happens to me. I'm sure there's more than enough in there." He placed his hand on your face. "You were right-- hurting people is all I'm good for."

"Phinks..."

The blonde haired man smirked. "Would your new boss give you all this?!"

Just as he said that, Charles pulled up in his car. He got out immediately as soon as he saw Phinks. "Y/N! Is everything alright here?!"

Phinks stepped in front of you, his uninjured hand now in a fist. "Who the hell are you?" Phinks lied, knowing exactly who this man was.

Charles cleared his throat. "Well, my name is Charles and Y/N is one of my associates."

Phinks huffed. "Never heard of you." He went to wrap his arm around your waist. "And besides, Y/N doesn't work for you anymore."

Before you could say anything, Phinks pulled you in closer. "Sorry for the inconvenience, pal. If you'll excuse us; we've got a wedding to plan."

You gasped as Phinks turned you towards the apartment, holding your left hand as the large diamond on your finger shimmered in the sunlight. "I'll make sure to send you an invite, Chuck."

"Phinks, when... what..." your mind was in shambles as you tried to process everything that was happening.

Is this his way of proposing? Are we engaged?!

Phinks spanked you, snapping you out of your trance. "You know, I'm still not over what you said. You're going to have to make it up to me, like a good little wife."

The tone of Phinks' voice made your temperature rise, as you knew exactly what he meant.

Charles stood there dumb founded as he watched the two of you walk off.

"Wow, that's one hell of a man if I ever did see one."

#phinks #phinks magcub #hxh #phinks magkav #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #phinks x reader #softphinks

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strangeinternetwasteland · 3 years

Text

Cross the Line Part 2

A/N: Let me know if you want a part 3, that would be the final part

Word Count 1.9K

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of abortion

You struggled to breathe, you felt your heartbreak into a million pieces. You did this to yourself. You didn’t go back to his apartment. You just packed your clothes from your apartment and ran. You didn’t care where you ended up, or if you died. The look on Bakugo’s face was enough. The venom in his voice was enough to make you vomit right then and there. You knew you couldn’t go back to the League. You debated whether or not to go to the commission for protection. Deciding against that since they’d probably just kill you on sight for just endangering their mission.

You wandered on the streets for a while. You thought about the last few months, and how blissful they truly were. You sat in a dark alley on top of your suitcase and cried. You let it all out, every emotion poured out of you. No one else seemed to have cared at all. The scream that erupted from your throat was full of pain. You didn’t notice when someone approached you.

“Y/N?” A concerned voice pulled you back to reality. Deku looked at you. You had met him a few times, and knew that he grew up with Bakugo.

“Are you okay?” He asked you. You nodded, why should he be brought into your drama. Into the world you created yourself.

“Is it Kaa-Chan?” He questioned you. “I know he can be so quick to anger. Give him sometime, he’ll cool down. You two will be okay. He loves you.” He tried reassuring you. You just broke down again, crying harder.

“No. It can’t be okay. It won’t be okay. I fucked up. Really really bad.” You stuttered out between sobs.

“How about you stay with me for a bit?” He offered you. You didn’t object, you really just wanted to lay your head down for a bit in a place where you’d be safe for a moment. When you arrived at Midoriya’s apartment, he showed you to the guest room. You closed the door behind you, laid on the bed, The last thought on your mind was about keeping the baby. You fell asleep after a few slow, long blinks. You awoke a few hours later yelling.

“DUMBASS, I told you. She’s the enemy. She’s a villian.” You heard Bakugo yelling.

“Kaa-Chan, I don’t think she is. Everyone is capable of change.” Midoriya defended you.

“You really don’t know her. How could she lie to me so easily? I loved her. You don’t fucking get it.” Bakugo pounded his fist against the table.

“Then make me understand, if you don’t think I know. I know you love her, I know she loves you. So she didn’t kill you all those times she could have. She didn’t sit there and give the League any information. She would have fucked us over so many times. She could’ve, but she didn’t.” Midoriya spoke to Bakugo.

You didn’t need to hear anything more. You grabbed your suitcase and slipped through the window. You decided that you’d come clean to the Commission. You walked there as quickly as possible, you fought your nerves, and emotions the whole way.

When you arrived, you weren’t sure what to expect. You were rushed into the Chairman’s office. For the next few hours, you explained what you found out while working with the villains, what the villains’ plans were, and what their ultimate goal was. Every detail of your interactions were scrutinized. When you finished with your meeting the only thing that was left was to tell the truth about you and Bakugo.

“Thank you for your help with this mission. I know it was difficult to cross that line, and sometimes multiple times. It wears on one’s mind after some time. Your services are no longer needed.” The Chairman told you with a satisfied smile on his face.

“There is something else I need to disclose, Sir.” You began to say.

“If this is about you and Lord Murder Explosion being a couple, my advice is to continue, his ratings are going up since announcing your relationship. The public feels safer and also think he’s more approachable.” He continued.

“I am afraid to say this, but he and I are no longer together. After finding out I was working the League, he didn’t want anything to do with me.” You told him with a little more firmness that you meant to. “Also, I will not be able to return to hero work right away. I am currently pregnant.” You kept the Chairman’s eye.

“I see. Tomorrow morning go see the doctor. We will figure out other work for you in the meantime. Meanwhile, please rest for the next two weeks. We will take care of the other apartment.” He dismissed you, you felt some sort of weight lift off your shoulders, but your mind was filled with worry.

The next two weeks came and went in a blur, you’d gotten a due date for your baby, but were unsure if you even wanted to keep it. You slept unrestfully for those two weeks. Every day you woke up thinking about Bakugo. Wondering if the Chairman would be good on his word. You really didnt have much faith in him when it came to promises. Midoriya had texted you every so often just to check up. He was very sweet, and Ochacko was very lucky to have ended up with him. The Commission hadn’t contacted you about starting other work at the end of the two weeks, so your vacation ended up being extended another two weeks.

After a month of no contact from Bakugo, you decided that it was time to make up your mind about the baby. You were getting ready for your day when you were called into action to fight against the League. You were in a one on one fight with Toga. Everything inside you screamed that you’d rather die than let this little teenaged psycho touch a civilian.

“Oh, look who’s here to save the day! The traitor” Toga cackled at you, her maniacal laugh echoing off the surrounding buildings.

“I will take you down if it’s the last thing I do you fucking psycho.” You retorted as you lunged at her. The pace of her swings were too much for you. You were winded and breathless after a few minutes. There was nothing special about her movements, yours were sluggish from the human inside. She had pinned you against the wall with her hands around your throat. You were dangerously close to blacking out. Suddenly, your body slouched against the wall, as you felt yourself gasping for air right before nothingness enveloped you.

You awoke with the yellowish glare of fluorescent lights, and gasping for air. Your hands were grasping for anything you could hold on to. Your hand grabbed hold of a bicep. When your (eye color) met his red ones, time stood still for a moment. Everything you were fighting for in that moment seemed to have faded away.

He took his hand and placed it on top of your head. You couldn’t read the look on his face. He didn’t seem mad, or angry. He stood a placed a kiss on your forehead.

“You scared me.” He whispered into your hair as he brushed it back. The tears flowed freely from his eyes. “I was so scared I was going to lose you.” The tender moment broken by the doctor.

“Oh, good, Y/N, you’re awake. We need to discuss a few things. First, I need your consent that it is okay to speak about important health information in front of-” The doctor looked at Bakugo.

“Katsuki, Yes. I consent.” You said allowed.

“Alright. First, there were no serious injuries sustained with your fight. Your throat may be sore for a few days, and you may have a headache. There was no brain damage.” He told the both of you. Bakugo took your hand in his squeezing it gently.

“Secondly, about the pregnancy.” He started, Bakugo tightened his grip on your hand. A very worried look crossed his face “They’re safe, and doing well.”

“They?” You said with shock. The doctor nodded.

“Yes, They. That was the other part, I know you Ms. L/N, were told it was one. While doing tests, we did indeed find two. The last thing is that we’d like to keep you here for a few hours just for observation.” He finished.

“Yes, okay. No problem.” You agreed with the doctor.

“Okay, great. I will give you some time. The nurse will be in here in a while to check your vitals and check on you.” The doctor said and left, closing the door behind him.

Bakugo had been awfully quiet while the doctor had spoken. You were unsure of what he was thinking. Bakugo stood up and placed his hands in his pockets.

“Katsuki…” He kissed you chastely at first, then deepened the kiss. All of the emotions he’d been keeping in over the last month tumbled out. Bakugo decided against having his way with you in the hospital bed, and broke the kiss.

“Y/N…” He pulled a black box from his pocket and opened it, up a light pink dusted his cheeks. Inside was a gorgeous round cut diamond solitaire ring set in white gold. You gave him a quizzical look, not understanding.

“Are you going to answer me? Or am I just going to stand here like a dumbass?” He asked you. It took a second, but it clicked in your brain. He was asking you to marry him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close breathing in his scent. Tears were streaming down your face, as you nodded your answer to him.

“I am sorry, Y/N. I thought you were the villain. I thought you were the bad guy here. When the Chairman explained everything to me. I thought it couldn’t be possible that you’d actually like me. It was that nerd, Deku, who told me that you two had been texting. He kept me up to date, he told me what you had said. When I had found you passed out because that damn extra...I was really scared. I was terrified that you were going to die. I knew I was going to ask you to marry me, the next time I saw you. I am sorry it’s in the hospital. I’ll ask you properly, soon.”

He looked as if he’d break in your hands, and you knew to an extent that it was true. He sat there holding you close afraid that if he did let you go, you’d disappear.

“Please come back, live with me. Let me take care of you and our children. I promise I will spend every day making it up to you, in every way possible. However, you’d like, for as long as it takes. The happiest I’ve ever been is when I spent time with you.” He said with a softness in his voice that you knew he meant what he was saying.

“I am sorry, Katsuki. I cannot do that.” You told him teasingly. His face dropped, “Not unless you say it.” He groaned at you.

“I love you, Y/N. Will you marry me?” Bakugo asked you followed by another passionate kiss. This moment couldn’t have been more perfect.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki

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trellanyx · 5 years

Text

Aim Your Arrow at the Sky

AO3 LINK

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Time slowed to a crawl without any help from Crowley. Every bit of movement and sound heightened to match his growing panic: the crunch of wet sand under his boot; the waves rolling rhythmically against the shore; the unrhythmic, staccato beating of Crowley’s useless heart; and there, standing on the water, was Gabriel, his long, pristine coat flapping around his ankles like wings in the wind.

“Nice place,” Gabriel continued, unbothered by Crowley’s silence. Hell’s sake, he was probably enjoying it. Gabriel looked around the empty beach, taking in the expanse of shore and sea and sky that Crowley and Aziraphale had claimed as their own. “Open, quiet, private. Dull as shit, but then, you’ve never been one for taste. I mean.” Gabriel laughed like an old friend. “Just look at who you hang out with.”

Crowley turned to face Gabriel openly, stepping to the side until he blocked Gabriel’s line of sight. The cottage was still half a mile away, but Crowley would be blessed and damned if he was going to let Gabriel a single inch closer to the angel inside.

“You get one warning,” he snarled. His eyes flashed poison-gold, pupils thin as a virgin guillotine blade. “Fuck. Off.”

“Tsk. That’s not very nice.”

“We had an agreement.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. “We did?” he asked, with all the shallow grandeur of a carnival conman. “That’s news to me. You sure you’re not thinking of…?” He nodded downward. “I know they’re too cowardly to come after you twice, but you and me? We haven’t spoken since the airfield. Am I right?”

Gabriel grinned, and a thin layer of his joviality slipped away with the tide. Crowley could see a thousand years of bloody crusades, swelling with corpse-rot and worship, living in the curve of Gabriel’s smile.

“Y’know, funny thing happened a few years ago, after you two betrayed the Almighty,” he continued. “We tried to execute Aziraphale, you know, and it didn’t take. Flames wouldn’t touch him. Very unsettling.”

Shut your stupid mouth and die already.

Crowley hissed hate through his sharpening teeth.

“Then we hear from Downstairs that they tried the same thing with you, and you survived holy water.” Gabriel shook his head. “And I’m thinking, nah, that can’t be right. Those two idiots?”

Heat began to boil in Crowley’s veins, blurring the air around him and causing the sand under his feet to steam as the water seeped inside began to evaporate.

Gabriel raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Not quite idiots, though, are you? I’ll give you credit—it was a clever trick.”

“Weird,” Crowley mused, like he was contemplating an unfamiliar menu item, not seething with hatred and panic. “I didn’t think your head was small enough to be pulled back outside your own arse. Is that why you’re here now?” Crowley tsked in fake sympathy. “Did it take that long, Gabe?”

Gabriel’s smile froze, and his stolen eyes became diamond-hard with barely controlled disgust.

“I imagine it’s difficult, being wretched longer than you’ve ever been divine.” Gabriel’s voice was soft, like feathers inside a pillow he was about to smother you with. “Your memory’s fuzzy—I get that. Still, though, I’d think this one would’ve stuck. Aziraphale at least had the decency to be properly afraid of it.”

“Is there a rest stop between now and the fucking point?” snapped Crowley. He jerked back in revulsion at the sound of Gabriel’s laughter.

“Surveillance, dumbass! Every second the earth has existed has a record. We didn’t have a reason to look before, but now, well.” Gabriel spread out his hands with a shrug. The warmth was back in his smile; a spray of blood from a mortal wound, cordiality and cruelty trickling down the grain of the cross.

Bless it, Crowley thought, but he was an idiot. Because he’d known. Gabriel, for all his inanity and pompousness, had never been stupid. No, worse than that—Gabriel was apathetic. He didn’t bother to learn or observe anything outside his own interests, and this made him appear bumbling, full of hot air and nothing substantive.

But when he did decide to pay attention…

Crowley’s wings shattered the barrier of their prison ad cracked the air like a shot. Gabriel watched placidly as they extended to their full height and wingspan. The air around Crowley was already distorting itself as reality broke down, unable to keep the demon’s true form from answering its master’s summons.

“I will kill you,” Crowley promised, his voice echoing with void and devastation. “I don’t care if I go down with you. You’ll face oblivion before you can even step in Aziraphale’s direction.”

“Oh…” Gabriel chuckled. “I know you will, A̸̧̼̦̭͇̞̰͎̙̮͎̒̃̌̚͝m̵͉̦̞̩̗͔̿̔̆̄͗̊̆̈́̀̓͂̀͊r̵̡̗̻͉̪͚̼̹͉̭̒̒̋͐̑̊̃͆̓͂̚̚ỉ̸̛̹͇͓̙͍͚̭̯͈̻̓̃̊̆͝ͅe̷̡̢̧̛̼͈̜̻͙̰̳̾̊͛͐͌̿̓̕͜ͅͅͅl̵̳̞̎̍̅͒̎͒͌͋́͌̾̔̕.”

Crowley screamed from the abrupt shock of divinity lancing through his chest, scattering light between his atoms like shrapnel. A high note, unbearably terrible and beautiful, rang in his ears and splintered his bones, sending Crowley to his knees in an acolyte’s post. He gasped as it passed through him and stared at Gabriel with mounting horror.

The first thing that was burned away from fallen angels was their name. It was the word She used to call them into existence, each letter encrusted like jewels in the crown of Her Glory. To lose their name was to lose themselves. Crowley couldn’t remember his holy name; sometimes, if he tried hard, he could see the shape of it in his mind’s eye, but it was smudged with pain. He’d always assumed the names of the Fallen were taken back into Her essence, no longer fit for creation or memory.

“Surprised?” Gabriel asked. “Oh, A̸̧̼̦̭͇̞̰͎̙̮͎̒̃̌̚͝m̵͉̦̞̩̗͔̿̔̆̄͗̊̆̈́̀̓͂̀͊r̵̡̗̻͉̪͚̼̹͉̭̒̒̋͐̑̊̃͆̓͂̚̚ỉ̸̛̹͇͓̙͍͚̭̯͈̻̓̃̊̆͝ͅe̷̡̢̧̛̼͈̜̻͙̰̳̾̊͛͐͌̿̓̕͜ͅͅͅl̵̳̞̎̍̅͒̎͒͌͋́͌̾̔̕—” Crowley gagged as blood filled his mouth. “—did you really think we’d forgotten you? When a demon’s former celestial name can cause this amount of damage, why the hell would we ever erase them?” Gabriel clucked his tongue. “Poor, stupid A̸̧̼̦̭͇̞̰͎̙̮͎̒̃̌̚͝m̵͉̦̞̩̗͔̿̔̆̄͗̊̆̈́̀̓͂̀͊r̵̡̗̻͉̪͚̼̹͉̭̒̒̋͐̑̊̃͆̓͂̚̚ỉ̸̛̹͇͓̙͍͚̭̯͈̻̓̃̊̆͝ͅe̷̡̢̧̛̼͈̜̻͙̰̳̾̊͛͐͌̿̓̕͜ͅͅͅl̵̳̞̎̍̅͒̎͒͌͋́͌̾̔̕.”

Crowley clutched his chest as the hole where Her Grace used to be was seared with divinity that was no longer his. Stupid indeed. Even the humans knew that names had power; why should the first names in all creation be any exception?

When he raised his head to hiss at Gabriel, black ichor dripped from Crowley’s eyes.

“Enjoying your little party trick? Go ahead.” Crowley staggered to his feet. “Say my name. Say it as much as you fucking want. I want you to.” He smile-snarled at the Archangel. “Let my name be the last thing you ever fucking say before I punt you into a black hole.”

“You still don’t get it.” Gabriel sighed. “Here’s the thing, A̸̧̼̦̭͇̞̰͎̙̮͎̒̃̌̚͝m̵͉̦̞̩̗͔̿̔̆̄͗̊̆̈́̀̓͂̀͊r̵̡̗̻͉̪͚̼̹͉̭̒̒̋͐̑̊̃͆̓͂̚̚ỉ̸̛̹͇͓̙͍͚̭̯͈̻̓̃̊̆͝ͅe̷̡̢̧̛̼͈̜̻͙̰̳̾̊͛͐͌̿̓̕͜ͅͅͅl̵̳̞̎̍̅͒̎͒͌͋́͌̾̔̕—” Crowley flipped his middle finger as he shook with a fresh wave of pain. “I didn’t actually come here to kill you.”

“Bullshit,” Crowley spat.

“It’s true! I just came for a chat.” Gabriel jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He came to kill you.”

In the space between heartbeat and thought, Sandalphon slipped out from behind Gabriel like an oil spill. The churning waves died beneath his shoes, becoming glass-smooth to match the patch of ocean Gabriel stood on. His smile didn’t bother with the pretense of friendship that Gabriel’s did; it held only the horrifying truth of belief, the kind that made martyrs out of the unwilling and called it just.

Crowley reared like a hooded cobra, cornered but desperate, and furious enough to attack anything that so much as twitched in its direction.

“Can’t even handle killing a demon on your own, can you, you piece of shit?”

Gabriel hummed like he was actually giving it some thought. “I prefer to think of it as not getting my hands dirty.”

“Hello, Crawley,” Sandalphon simpered. His golden teeth reminded Crowley of long abandoned treasures in a skeleton’s graveyard. Awareness coiled sickly in his gut.

Crowley could take Gabriel, or even Sandalphon, on his own. Whether he’d win was up for debate—an angel’s powers were, by design, made to cancel out a demon’s—but Crowley knew that he could at least cause one of the archangels severe damage. But two of them?

He had to try. If he could stall them even a minute, Aziraphale could—

“But you know what, I’m a sporting angel.” Gabriel clapped his hand on Sandalphon’s shoulder, whose eyes were beginning to glow. “How about I give you a chance to prove me wrong?”

Sandalphon held his hands out in front of him like an offering, and the water immediately began to churn. When he breathed in, the tide drained away from the shore into a growing whirlpool blackening the water beneath his feet. Sandalphon raised his arms in a conductor’s stance, his eyes glowing lightning-bright and salt-white.

The flames under Crowley’s scales froze with horror as a wave grew behind Sandalphon. And grew…and grew…

And then it began to glow.

Gabriel whistled appreciatively at the literal tidal wave rising above their heads—every atom of which was vibrating with celestial blessing. Even the scent of seawater in the air was poisoned with divinity; Crowley felt his right eye start to twitch.

“Survive this, demon,” Gabriel intoned. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Survive this, and I swear by the Grace inside me that I’ll leave you two alone.”

Fragments of ideas and plans rattled around Crowley’s mind like dice, and every one of them came up snake-eyes.

The wave had swelled too large to dodge. He could run, fly, crawl through the sand, but he wasn’t fast enough to get out of range before Sandalphon brought the flood down on his head. It would be the same if he attacked. No amount of hellfire would touch the angels so long as they were surrounded by their watery barrier. Even trying to stop time, as he did in Tadfield, would be useless to him. There was no reality-bending Antichrist to aid him, no angel…

Oh.

Aziraphale.

I’m…I’m about to die, aren’t I?

The roar of water dulled and muffled, suddenly far away, as if it was respecting Crowley’s privacy in his last moments. Realization skinned him raw; if Crowley was gone, who would protect Aziraphale? Who would listen to him read his favorite poetry aloud? Who would groom his wings? Who would take him to dinner, to the theater, to the stars and to bed and everywhere in between?

Who would love him?

I’m fucked. I’m fucked and I can’t stay and I’m going to hurt you, Aziraphale. I’m going to make you cry. I’m sorry. I only ever wanted to love you.

Gabriel waved. “So long!”

I know I said I’d be happy with whatever I could get, and I meant that, I did, I meant it because it was you. But angel, angel, I’m too fucking selfish. It’s not enough, it’ll never be enough, I want more, Aziraphale.

I want more time.

“Farewell,” sneered Sandalphon.

I want to talk with you more, drink with you more, I want more mornings where you’re the first thing I see when I wake up.

The tidal wave rose until it blocked the sun’s light, casting Crowley in a long tombstone-shadow. He should attack them. He should at least try, deny them the satisfaction of striking him down without resistance.

“Auf wiedersehen!”

But Crowley’s mind wasn’t on the beach anymore. It was back in their cottage, curled in Aziraphale’s lap with a deathbed confession.

I want more lunches, more dinners, more desserts, I want more walks and drives and I want to tease you more, kiss and hug and fuck and love you, I want to love you so much more Aziraphale, I want I want I WANT—!

“Goodbye.”

…I don’t want to go.

Sandalphon’s arms surged forward to bring down the wave, and several things happened at once.

A white-gold missile of light slammed into Sandalphon with enough force to send him barreling into Gabriel’s side and shoot them both away from Crowley like a torpedo.

The wave collapsed in on itself and flooded the beach.

Crowley threw his arms in front of his face, hissing as the holy spray connected like a thousand paper cuts in a salt bath.

He only had seconds to register the pain before something grabbed Crowley around the middle and rocketed him above the saturated sand.

Crowley panicked when he felt the heavenly aura surround him, instinctively squirming and kicking until he was flipped onto his back and saw his favorite shade of blue beseeching him to be still.

“It’s me!” Aziraphale shouted over the water. “Crowley, it’s me!”

A gallows moan pulled from Crowley’s chest.

“Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale crushed Crowley to his chest at the same time Crowley’s arms strangled the angel in a python’s grip. Aziraphale stroke-dragged shaking fingers through Crowley’s hair; his desperate whispers of darling darling darling kept rhythm with Crowley’s racing heart. He whined when Aziraphale pulled away to look him over.

“Are you hurt?” Aziraphale demanded. “Did it touch you?” His eyes followed Crowley’s down to the sizzling freckles on his arms, and Aziraphale growled.

“Monsters.”

Belatedly, Crowley registered that Aziraphale was holding him in a bridal carry. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, his vest was unbuttoned, and his bowtie was loose; he’d hadn’t even bothered to miracle his appearance, he’d been too much in a hurry to save Crowley from—

“We have to get out of here!” Crowley scrambled to fly on his own, holding Aziraphale’s hand the whole time. “Angel, we’ve gotta—”

“No.”

Crowley’s neck snapped back to Aziraphale fast enough to give a human a severe case of whiplash. “The fuck you mean no?!”

“They won’t stop,” said Aziraphale. “Not unless we make them.”

Now that he was sure of Crowley’s safety, the abrupt serenity settling around Aziraphale’s shoulders made Crowley bristle with terror.

“Aziraphale, they want to kill you!”

“Oh good.” Aziraphale turned to look over the horizon Gabriel and Sandalphon had been thrown beyond. “It’s always nice to be on the same page.”

His wrist twisted, and Crowley did a double take when he saw that Aziraphale was swinging a fucking umbrella like a broadsword. As it spun, the umbrella came alive with ice-blue fire, licking its way down to Aziraphale’s fingers and sparking like a blacksmith’s forge.

“Aziraphale, what—”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

A pillar of seawater erupted into the air. Crowley reeled back, but Aziraphale was already in front of him, the umbrella wide open and shield-wide, causing any stray drops of water to evaporate before the fire.

“Promise me something right now,” muttered Aziraphale.

“What is it?”

Aziraphale closed the umbrella and shifted into a combative posture.

“Do not interfere. Please.”

“Azira–”

“Promise me, Crowley.”

“No!” Crowley ripped his glasses off and threw them into the sand like a gauntlet. “You’re out of your blessed mind if you think I’m gonna let you—”

“My dear, in just a minute quite a lot of ethereal seawater is going to be slung around.” Aziraphale’s warrior eyes softened when they looked at Crowley’s incredulous face. “Please, love. I don’t want you in the crossfire.”

Unable to refute him, but unwilling to back down, Crowley jabbed his finger at Aziraphale’s flaming umbrella. “What are you even going to do with that, anyway?”

“Something I should have done long ago.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s cheek, and all protests shriveled in the demon’s throat. “I love you, Crowley. Wait for me.”

Aziraphale floated down to where Gabriel and Sandalphon reappeared on the water, enraged and sporting several extra sets of wings and eyes.

“Y’know what, I am sick of your shit,” Gabriel spat. “I was trying to be nice about this, show a little mercy by not making you watch Sandalphon kill your–”

A shower of water exploded in Gabriel’s face. He swore and sputtered, leaping back…and gaping at what he saw. As did Crowley.

Aziraphale had impaled his umbrella-sword through Sandalphon’s chest. He lifted Sandalphon until only the tips of his loafers skimmed the water. Sandalphon looked too stunned to try to retaliate, even when his wings fell slack and his extra eyes rolled back into nothingness.

Aziraphale radiated contempt as he unceremoniously yanked his weapon out of Sandalphon’s chest and stepped away.

With his face still frozen in a look of utter shock, Sandalphon’s knees splashed into the water. He pitched forward until he was face down in the ocean, bobbing listlessly as he bled out. Moments later, the rest of his mortal vessel sank with the finality of a suicide.

Discorporated.

Aziraphale’s fire was still burning through Sandalphon’s flesh; Crowley could see a pale blue glow under the waves as Aziraphale turned to fully face Gabriel.

“…So that’s how you want to do this, Aziraphale?” All emotion, satiric or sincere, abandoned Gabriel’s face in favor of cold-iron fury. “You cowered before the apocalypse, and now, now you choose to fight? For this infested world? For him?”

Gabriel jerked his chin upward, disgusted by the mere reference of Crowley on his lips.

“There didn’t have to be a war, Gabriel,” said Aziraphale. With his raised head and squared shoulders, he reminded Crowley of a well-fortified bulwark. “Not between Heaven and Hell, nor between us. Crowley and I have only ever asked for peace.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Without the flood, the olive branch has no meaning. You understood that once, Aziraphale.”

“No, I didn’t,” murmured Aziraphale. “I never did. I had only hope that one day, I would. No more.” Aziraphale glanced at Crowley. “I’m done blindly attacking whatever is put in front of me, and I’m done hiding like that’s something shameful.” He pointed his makeshift weapon at Gabriel; its calm, defensive blue a far cry from Aziraphale’s original sword—the weapon that fit so perfectly in the hands of War.

Gabriel spread his wings like he was baring his teeth. “You understand what will happen, don’t you? Attacking a superior?”

Aziraphale mimicked the action. “I answer to two voices in this universe, Gabriel, and yours isn’t one of them. None of you are. Not anymore.”

“You’ll Fall for this.”

Aziraphale’s form shimmered and bled until it was little more than sun and steel covered in a thousand glaring, resolute eyes.

“So be it.”

Aziraphale and Gabriel’s magic slammed against each other before their bodies did. The water crested from the shock waves and began to glow again, completely baptized by the unfiltered celestial energies rippling through its currents.

Crowley’s corporeal form tore from his body as he took off towards the fighting. He was never a soldier before he Fell—Crowley’s purpose was that of creation, of forming the precious galaxy that angels like Aziraphale fought to protect—but one didn’t roost in the bowels of hell for a couple millennia without learning how to fight dirty. Crowley swallowed what remained of earthly light into the hollow maw where Grace once shone, his fangs and claws dripping liquid nightmares. Even the broken shards of his halo were sharp enough to pierce an angel’s skin if Crowley just got close enough—

A geyser of holy water shot up and nearly took out one of his wings. Crowley reared back with a hateful shriek as more bless-bright jets rose around the warring angels like a cage. Crowley circled them agitatedly, trying to find Aziraphale in the fight. They were moving too fast and too bright; even Crowley’s supernatural gaze could only pick up afterimages, like a video with delayed audio. He pushed his consciousness out, seeking Aziraphale’s aura in the midst of the chaos.

All of Gabriel’s heads and wings were out, surging towards Aziraphale’s core to gouge him clean. Aziraphale met him blow for blow with his umbrella, the ludicrous sight at odds with how Gabriel snarled at it every time Aziraphale swung towards him.

What on earth had he done to it? It repelled Gabriel’s magic whenever Aziraphale opened it to use as a shield, and its blue flames greedily clung to Gabriel’s face and feathers whenever Aziraphale landed a hit. It didn’t cause the same amount of damage as hellfire might, but the force with which Aziraphale choreographed his blows was enough to knock Gabriel back, if only for a second.

Lightning shot down from above at Gabriel’s command, crackling through their watery battlefield like spiderweb veins. Aziraphale lost his footing as electricity surrounded his legs like barbed wire, and Gabriel struck, knocking Aziraphale backwards into the water. He reared back, teeth gleaming, and surged towards Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale threw up his umbrella with both hands and caught it inside Gabriel’s mouth, inches away from Aziraphale’s nose. The flames flared in Gabriel’s face, covering his head. Gabriel howled, and swung out with his claws.

Aziraphale screamed.

“ANGEL!” Crowley surged forward, water be damned, when—

“STAY BACK!”

Aziraphale staggered to his feet; half of his eyes were lidded or shut, dripping with golden blood. One of his wings was bent out of shape, claw marks breaking up the trail of snowy feathers.

Gabriel covered half of his face, his own lustrous blood spilling through his claws from the lashes Aziraphale’s magic scored across his Grace. Gabriel glanced at Crowley through the fire still licking his face, and Crowley could feel the archangel’s viciousness in the back of his throat, choking him like his tongue was swelling.

That feeling was all the warning Crowley had before the geyser bars exploded like a supernova. Aziraphale’s magic slammed Crowley backwards, burning like acid through Crowley’s teeth and rings, but with enough force to knock him almost entirely back to the other end of the beach, away from the water. Crowley writhed in the air, holding onto Aziraphale’s magic even as it burned, trying to get a sense of its strength from this small sample alone.

Up ahead the angels were clashing again. Starbursts of water rose and exploded like fireworks around them.

Aziraphale was strong, every inch of him exuding the strength and sharpness of an angel entrusted with an entire platoon of soldiers by the Almighty herself. He wielded the umbrella like it was truly steel, parrying and stabbing, smashing his good wings into Gabriel’s face and essence to knock him back. Streaks of golden blood splattered around them like paint, mixing with the shining water. Crowley couldn’t tell whose was whose anymore.

Crowley swelled and spun his rings in terror and tried to keep track of Aziraphale, to pick his essence apart from Gabriel’s own holy energy. It was almost impossible to lock onto thanks to the speed with which it was being thrown around, but after six thousand years and counting, Crowley was finely attuned to Aziraphale’s magic. The difference was faint; Aziraphale’s magic was warmer, shaded with gold. Gabriel, due to his higher rank, had a much brighter aura, a blinding white that hurt Crowley’s infernal eyes when he looked upon it for too long. It was much brighter than Aziraphale’s, pulled from a well of magic deeper and purer than any other angel—

With sickening clarity, Crowley realized what Gabriel was doing.

He was stalling.

By nature, Aziraphale was blessed with less endurance than Gabriel had. Despite how strong and determined his angel was, Crowley knew that Aziraphale’s pool of magic would run dry long before Gabriel’s did. And Gabriel knew that too, because he’d switched to a more defensive style, dodging and blocking, and timing his strikes with a luxury Aziraphale was never created for. Gabriel intended to wait Aziraphale out, to strike him down when Aziraphale’s magical strength abandoned him. Crowley had no doubt Aziraphale could still fight even then—he’d certainly try, anyway—using his muscle memory to attack Gabriel without ethereality, but a Principality with a sword was laughably outclassed by an Archangel with deep reserves of magic left. Aziraphale would lose.

Aziraphale saw it too. His attacks grew more vicious, more aggressive, as he tried to end Gabriel quickly, before his own form betrayed him. But despite the blows that did land against Gabriel, the archangel showed no signs of tiring.

Gabriel swung the clubbed tips of his wings at Aziraphale’s blind side. Aziraphale allowed himself to take the hit so that he could lure Gabriel close enough to smash the handle of his umbrella against Gabriel’s temple, hard enough that even Crowley could hear the sound of crunching bone. Light poured out of the gash on Gabriel’s head as he locked his magic around Aziraphale, beating at him with his expansive wings and causing a swirl of water to cyclone up and around them, obscuring Crowley’s view even further.

Crowley couldn’t stand it anymore; if being drowned in holy water meant the difference between Aziraphale’s victory and death, then it wasn’t even a choice worth thinking about. Crowley wrestled his magic back into his corporeal form and held it tight under his breast. His skin split, and scales flickered up and down his body as his magic frayed the edges of Crowley’s human-shaped form, not meant to be drawn so close and held back in such a way. Crowley grit his teeth with enough force to crack his fangs. He felt on the edge of a seizure, a destruction all his own, but there was nothing for it; Crowley would need to be small for this, lithe and nimble. They only had one shot.

Crowley drew back his hands as he flew towards the angels, and a growing ball of hellfire and dark energy formed between his palms. The fire had to be strong enough to pass through the holy water without losing its shape or power—power that would be needed to knock Gabriel back and give Aziraphale an opening.

Pain throbbed behind Crowley’s eyes; his pupils were disappeared, leaving behind a glowing sulfur-yellow stare. The water was overcharged with holiness, and there was enough of it flying around that it would take all of Crowley’s reserves to create something infernal enough to pass through it. If he was struck down before then...if he missed...if he hit Aziraphale instead...

It was impossible to avoid the spray; Crowley jerked in flight as hundreds of tiny burns connected with his body, like standing over a pan spitting hot grease. It hurt like Heaven, but not enough to keep him back.

Aziraphale’s magic was flagging under Gabriel’s, making it even harder to untangle from the threads of Gabriel’s power. But he was still there, Crowley’s brave, fierce angel, and it was enough. Wherever Aziraphale was, Crowley would come to him. Always.

Crowley weaved between the ribbons of water whipping through the sky, laser-focused on Aziraphale as he lined up his shot. This needed to be timed just right, or he would lose the element of surprise and Gabriel would destroy them both.

Thankfully, time and Crowley were on friendly terms.

He couldn’t spare the energy to pause time completely, but he could break off the barest sliver to slow the seconds around them. Just enough for him to see the forms previously hidden by light.

It would be up to Aziraphale to take advantage of the split-second Crowley was about to give him, because Crowley would be unable to dodge or block anything Gabriel might throw at him after he recovered. Even twist-sick with terror, he never feared that Aziraphale would miss his chance. Crowley trusted Aziraphale to save them both.

He trusted Aziraphale more than anything in creation.

As Gabriel twitched in his direction, Crowley poured everything he had and was into his attack and blasted the ball of hellfire and dark matter into Gabriel’s side. Gabriel stumbled off balance for a single second, and it was all Aziraphale needed.

With an almighty scream, Aziraphale stabbed Gabriel through the eye with the sharp tip of his umbrella.

The water instantly splashed down, leaving Aziraphale and Gabriel in a pool of luminescence. Gabriel dropped to one knee, then the other, and gripped the umbrella embedded in his skull with both hands. He snarled at Aziraphale who, without breaking eye contact, slowly pushed the umbrella, fire and all, through Gabriel’s eye socket.

“Traitor,” Gabriel spat.

“There are worse things to be,” said Aziraphale. “Deliver my message, Gabriel. To the angels, to the demons, to the Metatron and Beelzebub themselves. Tell them what happened to Sandalphon. Tell them what happened to you.”

Gabriel convulsed as Aziraphale deliberately pushed the umbrella deeper until it broke out the back of Gabriel’s skull.

“And tell them that if they ever threaten us again, I will make them wish for something so sweet as discorporation.”

Bleeding out at Aziraphale’s feet, Gabriel cursed Aziraphale in a language Crowley hadn’t heard since the Beginning. His grip began to slacken on the umbrella, and Crowley dared to relax.

Then, without warning, Gabriel’s left arm threw back in Crowley’s direction to hit him square in the chest with the last of Gabriel’s power. Caught off guard and too depleted to respond quickly enough, Crowley arched through the air and landed square on his back on the now consecrated beach.

Crowley screamed as the holy water soaked up by the sand seeped through his shirt and wings and skull. The last thing he saw before his eyes rolled back was Aziraphale’s horrified face.

The scent of clean linen pulled Crowley from unconsciousness with merciful gentleness. There was no more briny smell of wet sand and saltsea. Nothing of ozone or blood. Just clean cotton and an imprint of Aziraphale’s cologne. Crowley breathed in deep, searching for traces of his angel like an experienced perfumer: saffron and sandalwood, juniper berries and sage, and sometimes, if it was a good night, the warmth of cocoa that Crowley could still taste sweet as cream on Aziraphale’s tongue.

“Sssh.” Aziraphale brushed Crowley’s hair out of his eyes. “Not so sudden. I’ve done all I could, but you’re likely to be sore for a few more days.”

Crowley’s eyes snapped open, seized with desperation to confirm—and there he was.

“Angel,” Crowley breathed, trembling with relief and reverence. He took Aziraphale’s hand and turned it palm-up to run his lips over the lifeline.

“My love,” Aziraphale whispered, sounding as helpless as Crowley felt. He squeezed Crowley’s hand with a strength that would’ve broken mortal bones; Crowley only shuddered and held Aziraphale tighter, grounding himself in his angel’s touch. He kissed each of Aziraphale’s knuckles twice before he could drag his eyes back up.

“Are you okay?”

Aziraphale laughed wetly. “He asks, after half his backside melted away.”

“Hey, I saw a lot of eyes out of commission,” Crowley reminded him.

“You shouldn’t have been close enough to see in the first place!” Aziraphale snapped. His face twisted and broke down, and he bowed over their joined hands like he—Aziraphale!—was seeking penance. “You foolish, wretched—I told you to stay back!”

“You also tell me to drive slower and be nice to my plants.” Crowley’s voice was gentle, but he couldn’t make himself sound apologetic. “You needed the opening, angel. He would’ve worn you down eventually.”

“Don’t you dare spout logic at me, Anthony Crowley. You almost died.”

Every time you took a blow. Every time he came an inch closer to destroying you. Do you think I could ever separate my survival from yours, Aziraphale? Now? Still?

Crowley bit his split tongue and propped himself up on an elbow. He was on his stomach, his wings still out and brushing against the floor. Crowley couldn’t bring himself to look at them yet, to count lost feathers and new scars. He cleared his throat to dislodge the misery choking him with every hitch of Aziraphale’s breath.

“…And Gabriel?”

Aziraphale sniffled. “Gone. Discorporated, I think, or possibly dead.” He raised his head enough to half-heartedly glare at Crowley. “I was a bit too distracted to watch his exit at the time.”

“I’m sorry.” Crowley traced the curve of Aziraphale’s skull, down his neck and across his jaw. When Aziraphale closed his eyes to the touch, Crowley kissed both of his eyelids. What else was left to say? “I’m sorry, angel, I’m so, so sorry—”

“Hush,” whispered Aziraphale. He held Crowley’s palm to his cheek, and ran his thumb in circles atop Crowley’s pulse point. He looked thinner than he’d been before Crowley left him for a morning flight—

(how many mornings ago now? how long had Aziraphale sat in a vigil he was never meant to keep?)

—and bruise-dark circles hung below his eyes. Crowley’s gaze sidestepped reality to see the mantle of magic draped around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Its light was weak and watery, stretched thin as tracing paper over the angel’s essence.

“You look exhausted,” Crowley murmured.

“Battle will do that. Fear will do that.” Aziraphale opened his swimming eyes (Crowley was starting to hate the sight of water). “Crowley, you were so empty when I reached you. I thought—I thought you were—”

The dam broke and Aziraphale bit his free hand, trying to muffle his sobs as tears rolled down his cheeks. He never let go of Crowley, who felt his fingers become slick when Aziraphale nuzzled his palm and smeared tears across the half-scaled flesh.

“C’mere. Aziraphale, hey.” Crowley tugged at Aziraphale’s grip until he could once again see the sky blue of Aziraphale’s eyes. “Come lie beside me.”

Swiping at his tears, Aziraphale shed his clothes and climbed in nude beside Crowley, who immediately shifted until he could rest his ear over Aziraphale’s heart.

“You can’t possibly think I’d let you face any of them alone,” he murmured. “No more than you could abandon me.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s chest, followed by his cheek and salt-tipped lips. “Angels don’t get the monopoly on protection, sweetheart.”

Aziraphale shakily laughed. “Well. That might become a moot point soon, anyway.”

Crowley’s heart plummeted in horror. “You haven’t—”

“No, not yet.” Aziraphale cast a bitter glance at the ceiling. “Gabriel’s always loved to pull rank, but even he doesn’t have the power to make those decisions.”

“They can’t.” Crowley reared backward, onto his knees. “You were defending yourself!”

Aziraphale gave him an odd look, but Crowley was too petrified at the thought of Aziraphale actually Falling for him to appreciate the absurdity of expecting Heaven to actually play fair.

“I was defending you,” Aziraphale corrected. “And there’s still the matter of Head Office finding out we defied them twice—”

“Aziraphale—”

“Vis a vis apocalypses and executions that weren’t, well, executed—”

“Stop sounding so calm about this!”

Crowley’s ears might’ve rung from the sound of his own scream, but he couldn’t hear anything over the drumbeat of his wild heart, panic twisting like a noose around its ventricles and chambers. Aziraphale only looked at him for a moment before shifting to sit upright. His wings were also out, and they wrapped around Crowley’s damaged back, mingling with his feathers.

“Crowley. I meant what I said when I challenged him.” Aziraphale took both of Crowley’s hands and brought them to his lips. “I’ve already disowned them in every way that counts, anyway.”

“You can’t Fall,” Crowley protested.

“I’m not afraid anymore, dearest.”

“I can’t be the reason you Fall, Aziraphale!” Crowley ripped his hands from Aziraphale’s in favor of dragging them across his scalp; his nails, still halfway stormblack and clawed, opened the way for blood to lose itself in his slaughterhouse hair.

“You, you don’t know what it’s like, you don’t know how agonizing it is, to have everything you were broken down and put back together in the wrong order. You don’t know how it feels to have that phantom pain follow you for the rest of eternity. You don’t know how it feels to be worth less than ash. Angel, angel…”

He reached for Aziraphale, aborted the movement, and curled in on himself, irrationally afraid that one more demonic touch would be enough to push Aziraphale over the edge. “I can’t condemn you to that. I could never so much as look you in the eye again.”

The clean scent was gone. All he could smell was burning flesh, burning feathers, burning hair and burning soul and Aziraphale, Aziraphale stinking of brimstone just as Crowley did, his wings turning black as disease and his halo shattering to form something twisted and ugly.

If You’d ever listen, listen to me now. Don’t put him through this. He’s the greatest thing You ever made.

Don’t drag him down to my level.

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley shook his head. “I love you. I love you so much. Please.”

Aziraphale’s hands wrapped around Crowley, slowly tugging him back into his embrace; Crowley followed helplessly, but kept his shameful tears buried in the soft white curls across Aziraphale’s chest.

“Crowley. Crowley look at me.” Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s hair. “Please, dearest.”

A golden eye blinked miserably up at him. Aziraphale smiled.

“You’re right. You can’t be the reason I Fall. Because if I do, it will be because I chose to do so. Because I choose this life, here, with you. Because I have never felt so happy, or so good, than I feel when I’m by your side.”

Aziraphale tilted Crowley’s chin up; his kiss stung with gentleness and the miracle of being known. Their wings cocooned around each other, and when Crowley rested his brow against Aziraphale’s his thoughts fell silent, blanketed by the heat of their embrace and the whisper of Aziraphale’s breath against his lips.

“Earlier you said you answered to only two voices in the universe,” Crowley murmured.

“I did.”

“The first is Hers.” Crowley didn’t bother to mask it as a question, but Aziraphale heard one anyway.

“Hers,” he said softly. “Not Heaven’s.”

“And the second?”

Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s nose, giggling when Crowley playfully scrunched his face. “Oh, my love. Does it even need saying?”

This time, when Aziraphale shifted to lay on his back once more, he didn’t need to pull to get Crowley to follow him down.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #gabriel good omens #my writing #my stuff #vicsfam #trellafam

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shinneth · 5 years

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Gem Ascension Tropes (Peridot-specific: A)

There’s one of my new arts - GAverse Peridot in the house! If she looks a little taller and leggier than normal, she’s supposed to be. I find it kind of fascinating that for nearly every design deviation the canon characters in GAverse have, it’s practically a spoiler to even show it because it pretty much spells out the twist for you. But eh, it is what it is, right?

So... these following tropes (see here for the first post for the general tropes for backstory on why the hell I did all this, and if you wanna see it in its entirety, see it on Google Docs)

Because Peridot is the actual protagonist of the GA continuity and my favorite character overall... her specific trope listing is the biggest overall. It easily towers over the general tropes I just posted. So this here’s the actual biggest hurdle. Let’s see if I can even fit A through B in this. Wow. I was fucking kidding, but nope! Adding A and B makes the links not work! Hooboy, what does that say when I’m already starting out restricted to post one letter at a time to avoid breaking the post?

I make a point not to copy+paste tropes already on her canon character page unless they’re relevant to GA specifically. I went out of my way to use the SU trope page as little as possible overall, really. So while there will be overlap, rest assured it’s there for a reason.

So, assuming you’re that interested to see just how much I have to say about Peridot with all the headcanons made into a massive storyline, just keep in mind there’s no marked spoilers and have fun, I guess!

Peridot (Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG)

A Taste of Her Own Medicine: When Peridot tells Steven how the promotion she worked so hard to get ended up putting her in the same position as her previous victims, as she couldn’t get away with bullying or disrespecting gems above her in the caste system (which was literally almost everyone) and ended up being the one targeted for bullying due to her lowly status, Steven mentions this trope verbatim to sum up the situation.

Academic Alpha Bitch: Her Pre-Earth Homeworld persona; the Passive-Aggressive variant.

Accomplice by Inaction: Regarding Jasper’s abuse of Lapis when the pair was originally teamed up with Peridot. Considering Lapis was (albeit unwillingly) suffering Jasper’s abuse so Peridot wouldn’t have to, the fact that Peridot not only forced herself to mentally repress these moments as much as she could in order to live with herself – but actively did nothing to help Lapis even when she was witnessing the vile acts Jasper inflicted on their informant – has been one of her greatest sources of guilt and self-loathing. Peridot herself admits even when she had the means to at least offer some comfort or sympathy when Jasper wasn’t present, she refused to do it. Granted, Peridot’s inaction is largely justified; not only was Jasper’s abuse of Lapis deemed legal by Homeworld law, but Peridot herself – her kind being so low in the caste system – had no right to interfere or prevent any of this. It was actually illegal for Peridot to inconvenience a gem above her rank for any reason, and the gap between herself and Jasper was wide. This was also before Peridot’s Character Development; despite Jasper breaking her down well enough to eliminate most of Peridot’s absolute worst traits as a Homeworld gem, she was still far from being the gem who presently would have done everything in her power to fight Jasper and protect Lapis. This guilt (as well as feeling indebted to Lapis for saving her from Jasper) is the leading cause for why Peridot was such an Extreme Doormat to Lapis in canon.

Achey Scars: One of the last significant blows Peridot sustained courtesy of 9FC in Chapter 4 of Act I is a punch to the face. Since 9FC had limb enhancers, this punch left a nasty mark on Peridot’s cheek and greatly pained her (although she doesn’t realize she even has this injury, as she never sees how she looks after the No-Holds-Barred Beatdown – and her three nearly-crippled limbs are a bit more attention-grabbing). Thankfully for Peridot, it doesn’t plague her for long, as it’s the first injury Steven heals in the following chapter.

Act of True Love: The mission that plays out during the entirety of Act I is undoubtedly this. While Peridot genuinely wants to save everyone else and worries for them individually, it’s the realization that Steven is no longer with her that makes Peridot jump into the action. It’s her love for Steven that makes Peridot stay the course and see her mission through to the end, no matter how often she screws up or breaks down. Even when Peridot is struck with a persistent concern that she won’t come out of this mission alive, she’s not the least bit deterred and readily accepts death if it means Steven can live and be free. Peridot herself states that life doesn’t make sense and that everything is confusing if Steven isn’t with her, so she’s desperate to save him and bring him home where he belongs. This is an amusing case where all of The Four Loves are in play here.

Action Girl/Girlfriend: Comes with Taking a Level in Badass and becoming a Hero Protagonist. The latter trope is in effect as of Chapter 5 of Act I.

Adorkable: Per canon, and still in effect in GA. Very prevalent whenever the topic of Steven comes up, and especially when she and Steven directly interact. Peridot’s full of this when she actually spills her heart out to Steven in Chapter 5 of Act I.

Affectionate Nickname: Peri and Dot by many friends, P-Dot and Dottie-P by Amethyst, Tiny by Bismuth, Twilight by White Diamond.

Aggressive Submissive: Proves to be this in It’s a Birthday, Yes It Is. Whether or not it has anything to do with the submissive instincts that come naturally with Peridots is debatable. This is Who I Am establishes that such instincts were completely benign in Peridot’s case (likely due to emerging as an Unwitting Test Subject) until a certain Near-Rape Experience woke them up with a vengeance.

Alone with a Psycho: From the end of Act I to Chapter III of Act III, Peridot’s only company after being stranded on Homeworld was White Diamond. For six days, Peridot endured White’s wide variety of torture methods before she was rescued.

Ambition is Evil: When Peridot developed this during her life as a Homeworld gem, she became determined to achieve her goals, no matter what she had to do or who she had to hurt to succeed. This quickly made her The Dreaded of her kind. As time passed, Peridot herself became progressively more sinister and sadistic to assert her dominance.

Amnesiac Dissonance: Once Peridot and her team land on Homeworld, just seeing things Peridot is familiar with starts to abruptly jog memories of her Homeworld life that she thought she had discarded. Reuniting with 9FC made Peridot remember how horribly she treated her own kind to get ahead. This triggered a domino effect the longer the mission went on, though in some instances it was beneficial, such as when Peridot remembered what pallification was after being in close proximity to White Pearl.

Angst Nuke: Once Peridot has a moment to think after Pumpkin’s death, this happens. Deadly lasers fire from her gemstone and inadvertently causes an atmosphere-shredding wind storm that accelerates Homeworld’s destruction. Once she Involuntarily Shapeshifts into Chartreuse Diamond as she cries endlessly, the level of destruction is upped to Brown Note levels.

Armor-Piercing Question: Falls victim to this twice, both times by White Diamond. Both times, Steven is used to expose Peridot’s weak spot, which leads to the birth of Chartreuse Diamond and Celadon Diamond.

Armor-Piercing Slap: Gives one to Lapis in Chapter 8 of Act III, after Lapis invokes an Ironic Echo in reference to Pumpkin’s impending demise. She means well by it, but Peridot is too far into her Heroic BSoD to not take offense to her own words being used against her. Even when it’s justified.

The Atoner: Peridot considers herself eternally this after her redemption arc. Even after doing many good deeds, making friends, earning forgiveness, helping people, and saving Earth itself, Peridot still feels she could do more. When she regains her memories of how awful she used to be when she lived on Homeworld, Peridot doubles down on this role hard. She verbally confirms this in This is Who I Am.

Attack its Weak Point: Proposes this strategy to fight the pallified Blue Diamond. More specifically, to find its weak point with herself and her teammates scattering to the most likely place a weak point might be in hopes of striking the right spot.

Attacking Through Yourself: When Peridot and Steven are stuck fighting each other’s dark selves in a duel to the death (where the dark/light counterparts feel each other’s pain and will perish should one side be killed), Peridot’s duel with Dark Steven quickly escalates into a scenario where Dark Steven is in the midst of choking to death – not by Peridot’s hands, but by her dark counterpart’s, who is well underway killing the Light Steven. Peridot can’t do anything to make her dark self stop this, as the two fights are separated between different dimensions. That is, there’s no way Peridot can make her counterpart stop killing Steven without inflicting damage on herself to disrupt her efforts. Unfortunately, 5XG (the Dark Peridot) retains Peridot’s lost ability to endure pain ridiculously well, so the only way Peridot has any chance of saving Steven is to inflict life-threatening levels of damage to herself. Having virtually no time to think of a better plan, Peridot goes with her instincts and uses a jagged piece of the arena’s floor tiling to lodge directly into her forehead, piercing her gemstone. This does work in forcing 5XG to release her hold on Steven – simultaneously saving both forms of him in the process – but it very nearly cost Peridot her life (and 5XG’s by proxy). Thankfully, the always-merciful Light Steven was there to quickly heal 5XG’s injury while the Dark Steven, having developed a begrudging respect for Peridot (and not wanting to be indebted to her for saving his life), also healed her injury as soon as he recovered from his life-threatening situation. With both Stevens worn down and vulnerable from nearly having their throats crushed and both Peridots too weak to actively continue fighting after sustaining deep, direct damage to their gemstones, both deathmatches ended in a No Contest, which yielded the result Light Peridot hoped to achieve: a scenario where she and Steven come out of this alive.

Ax-Crazy: In Chapter 6 of Act III, Peridot slips into this when she sees White Diamond’s neck and is immediately triggered due to the PTSD of the torture White put her through earlier in the act. Peridot ended up with a Slashed Throat from that (nonlethal considering she’s a gem, but it did shock her into unconsciousness and led to her being manipulated into ascension), so she finds herself intensely obsessed with returning the favor to White now that she has the opportunity.

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techcrunchappcom · 4 years

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New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/nobodys-ever-seen-anything-like-this-how-coronavirusturned-the-us-election-upside-down-the-guardian/

'Nobody’s ever seen anything like this': how coronavirus turned the US election upside down - The Guardian

Mar-a-Lago was the place to see and be seen for guests who paid thousands of dollars for the privilege on New Year’s Eve. Diamonds and furs abounded on the red carpet. When Donald Trump arrived at his estate in Palm Beach, Florida, in high spirits and a tuxedo, he declared: “We’re going to have a great year, I predict.”

But earlier that day, a Chinese government website had identified a “pneumonia of unknown cause” in the area surrounding a seafood market in Wuhan. When midnight struck and 2020 dawned, no one could have guessed how this microscopic pathogen would turn the world upside down, infecting 15 million people, killing 625,000, crippling economies and wiping out landmark events such as the Olympic Games.

America is no exception. The coronavirus pandemic has upended the presidential election, which, on Sunday, will be just one hundred days away. It has changed the issues, the way the fight is fought and quite possibly the outcome. The nation’s biggest economic crisis for 75 years, and worst public health crisis for a century, is an asteroid strike that has rewritten the rules of politics and left historians grasping for election year comparisons.

“There is probably nothing the same as coronavirus,” said Thomas Schwartz, a history professor at Vanderbilt University in Nashville. “Obviously, you have issues that stir the public up: 1968 would have been Vietnam and the disturbances that had taken place in the cities. But nothing quite as universal and affecting such a wide band of Americans as the coronavirus. That is really new.”

Soon after that New Year’s Eve celebration at Mar-a-Lago, Trump would be acquitted by Republicans at his Senate impeachment trial and triumphantly brandish the next day’s Washington Post front page at the White House. In his own mind, at least, he was riding a strong economy on his way to re-election, while Democrats struggled to tally results in their Iowa caucuses or settle on a unifying presidential nominee.

Trump in February, in defiant mood following his acquittal in his Senate impeachment trial. Photograph: Joshua Roberts/Reuters

But the virus was on the move. On 22 January, Trump claimed that it “is totally under control” and is “going to be just fine”. On 2 February, he insisted he had stopped its spread by restricting travel from China. On 27 February, he said at the White House: “One day – it’s like a miracle – it will disappear.” And so it went on in what critics now say was a historic feat of denial and failure in leadership.

Covid-19 swept through New York, killing thousands of people. Trump declared himself a “wartime president” and held daily briefings in April but then reportedly “got bored” and switched emphasis to reviving the economy – seen as crucial to his re-election chances. Yet while the infection and death tolls ticked up, his approval ratings ticked down.

Now it seems the old maxim of “It’s the economy, stupid” will be replaced by “It’s the virus, stupid” as the defining issue for voters, not least because the suffering and death have a direct impact on the economy itself: Americans have filed 52.7m unemployment claims over the past four months.

Another famous campaign question, “Are you better off than you were four years ago?”, now seems purely rhetorical. The Trump campaign has been forced to abandon the slogan “Keep America great” in favour of “Make America great again, again”.

Schwartz added: “When Trump had the economy going gangbusters he had a stronger argument on his behalf that, despite his disruptiveness and unpleasantness, people were doing OK and things seemed to be moving ahead. But look at the polling on whether the country’s going in a good direction or a bad direction and, boy, did that spike with the bad direction since March.”

Trump was arguably an unusually lucky president for his first three years, not having to face the type of major crisis that confronted many of his predecessors, enabling him to persist as a gadfly reality TV star tweeting about celebrities instead of reading national security briefs. With the eruption of the virus, that luck ran out spectacularly.

America now has 4m infections and more than 140,000 deaths, the highest tallies in the world. Cases have doubled in the past six weeks even as curves flatten in Europe.

The president continues to defend his response, pointing to travel restrictions he imposed, 50m tests conducted – more than any other country – and mass distribution of ventilators. “We’re all in this together,” he said on Wednesday. “And as Americans, we’re going to get this complete. We’re going to do it properly. We’ve been doing it properly. Sections of the country come up that we didn’t anticipate – for instance, Florida, Texas, et cetera – but we’re working with very talented people, very brilliant people, and it’s all going to work out, and it is working out.”

The pandemic was a moment when Trump could have proved his doubters wrong. He did not rise to the challenge

But his niece Mary Trump, author of a new family memoir, said his handling of the pandemic has been “criminal”. She added: “It was avoidable, it was preventable and even if we hadn’t gotten a hold of it right away, the statistics are pretty clear. Two weeks earlier, what, 90% of deaths could have been avoided? And they haven’t been, simply because he refused to wear a mask because doing so would have admitted that he was wrong about something, and that is something he cannot do.”

The pandemic was a moment when Trump could have surprised the world and proved his doubters wrong. He did not rise to the challenge in the eyes of those critics. He failed to devise a national strategy on testing, rarely spoke of the victims, refused to wear a mask until recently and undermined top public health experts such as Dr Anthony Fauci.

Leon Panetta, a former defence secretary and CIA director, said: “If you operate on the basic premise that crisis defines leadership, then you’d have to say that this crisis has also defined the failure of leadership. That has without question impacted on politics in this country.

“It’s pretty clear that there are a hell of a lot of constituencies out there that feel that he’s failed to lead with this issue. There’s a sense that in many ways he’s basically said, ‘You’re on your own in terms of dealing with this’. He at one point said he doesn’t take responsibility for what’s happening with this virus and I think that sent a real message to the country that the president’s gone awol on the country at a time of crisis.”

Such is the backlash that multiple opinion polls show the Democratic presidential candidate Joe Biden leading Trump by double digits, and ahead in the battleground states that will decide the electoral college. The president’s best hope now might be an “October surprise” in the form of a coronavirus vaccine. There is no clearer example of how everything has changed than Texas, which no Democrat has won since 1976. On Wednesday, a record 197 deaths from Covid-19 were reported while a Quinnipiac poll showed Biden leading Trump 45% to 44%.

Filemon Vela, a Democratic congressman from southern Texas, said: “Since the beginning of the pandemic, President Trump and our own governor, Greg Abbott, have made tactical decisions that are now resulting in the killing of Texans en masse. Any rational thinking Texan would be crazy if they voted for Donald Trump, given the way that the state is being ravaged by the virus.

“Across the state, ICUs are full. Back in my home town, patients that should be in the ICU are having to wait in emergency rooms. Patients who can’t get into emergency rooms are having to wait in ambulances for hours outside the hospital. It is a catastrophic situation and I believe that, when November comes around, the people of Texas are going to remember it.”

A protest in support of Black Lives Matter in New York in June. Trump seized on the protest by attempting to stoke ‘culture war’ divisions. Photograph: Bryan R Smith/AFP/Getty Images

Against the implacable foe of the virus, Trump has repeatedly sought to divert and distract. He seized on the Black Lives Matter protests against the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis not with healing and compassion but by attempting to stoke “culture war” divisions over crime and Confederate statues. Still, the pandemic persisted.

Bill Galston, a former policy adviser to President Bill Clinton, said: “If the election becomes a referendum on the president’s handling of the pandemic, he cannot win. It’s as simple as that and so, barring some miraculously favourable developments in the next hundred days, he has no choice but to change the subject as best as he can.”

The pandemic has not only transmogrified the substance of the election but also the style. Democrats were fortunate to get most their primaries out of the way and mostly unite behind a nominee before the storm hit. Other rituals of the election year calendar – campaign rallies, convention speeches, presidential debates – will be unrecognisable.

So far, the altered landscape appears to be hurting Trump and helping Biden. In 2016, the Republican thrived on rambunctious rallies where crowds chanted “Build the wall!” and, referring to his opponent Hillary Clinton, “Lock her up!” The theatre seemingly gave him a blood transfusion of political energy while building a cult of personality for crowds, often in long-neglected small towns, who then fanned out to spread the word.

Last month, however, a Trump rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma, drew a disappointingly small crowd amid virus fears, and another in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, was cancelled. No more have been announced. The president has also been forced to call off Republican national convention events next month in Jacksonville, Florida, where he had been planning to make a splashy acceptance speech before a cheering crowd.

Democrats will also hold a delayed and pared-down convention in Milwaukee in August, with much of it migrating online. Biden, who at 77 would be the oldest president ever elected, has been able to lie low in his basement in Wilmington, Delaware, spared from the punishment of constant campaigning and awkward encounters that could invite his notorious gaffes. Instead the pandemic plays to his perceived strengths of empathy, experience and stability.

Galston, a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution thinktank in Washington, added: “Nobody’s ever seen anything like this and nobody knows what the net effect is going to be. I don’t know to what extent the raucous Trump rallies of 2016 were instrumental to his success but what we do know is that’s not a strategy that can be repeated in 2020.”

But there may be no greater demonstration of the pandemic’s reach than polling day itself, due to take place on 3 November amid health fears, a surge of mail-in voting and a prolonged count that Trump might seek to discredit and exploit.

This week more than 30 advocacy groups and grassroots organisations joined Protect the Results, a project to mobilise millions of people should Trump “contest the election results, refuse to concede after losing, or claim victory before all the votes are counted”.

Panetta, a former White House chief of staff, has heard similar talk from friends. “On conferences and Zoom calls and emails I’m getting concern that this is not a president who has ever shown a tendency to operate with a degree of class in accepting defeat and so there’s a sense that he will resist the results of the election if it’s close,” he said.

“I guess the hope for a lot of people I’ve talked to is that the election results are so clear that it makes it very difficult for the president to even pretend that somehow the vote was wrong.”

#Uncategorized

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marvelatbarnes · 7 years

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A little bit of Crazy Part 2

Alright, I changed the story a smige and Juice goes tot he clubhouse to confront the guys at the end instead of what actually happens (i don’t want to ruin the ending for everyone :) ) but other than that, it is all the same. (sadly)

warning: character death? also SPOILERS

tags: @sam-samcro @im-gay-for-chibbs-juiceyandtiggy @mrskokitztelford @calumonoxide (i’m sorry if you two didn’t want to be tagged but you seemed to like it :) )

Natalie rolled over in bed and her eyes flew open as soon as she realized Juice wasn’t next to her. She moved her hand around and felt the cold sheets and the crinkle of the paper broke the silence in the room. Nat rubbed her eyes with her right hand while her left hand moved the paper in front of her face.

“Baby,

I don’t know how to say this, but I’m going to jail. I talked to Chibs and he said the boys decided if I go in and do this last job for them, they’ll find me protection inside and I can be a son again. Don’t come looking for me. The boys will take care of you. Not like you need it.

I love you, more than you can imagine. I thank you so much for being the rock in my spiraling life lately and maybe when I get out, we can have an actual ceremony. There’s a ring in the top drawer of my nightstand. I know it’s small but it’ll get caught on less when you make your escapes from your job.

I promise to treat you as good as my leather and ride you as much as my Harley. Just in case I don’t get to say it.

I know you would have ran away with me but that’s too fairy tale for a bunch of killers, aint it?

Love you baby,

Juan”

Natalie bit her lip to stop it shaking and scooted across the bed to find the velvet box in the drawer. She stared at it for a while, debating with herself whether she should open it or find him first. She slammed it on the nightstand and pulled on her first pair of jeans and a t-shirt, shoving her feet into socks and boots and the velvet box was delicately slid into her front pocket. Her favorite gun was tucked into the back of her jeans.

She hopped in her car out front and drove to the clubhouse, hoping the whole time that his bike would be parked along side everyone else’s. The car was hardly in park as she jumped out and stalked to the doors of the ice cream shop.

“Hey Nat--.” Chucky and Brooke called from behind the counter and got quiet as she ignored them and took the stairs two at a time. The prospects didn’t have time to react from seeing coming up the stairs to call out to the men when she kicked the door open and looked around the table quickly.

“Hey Darlin’.” Jax smirked while the rest of the Sons grew quiet.

“Where is he?” Natalie let out a steady breath and waited.

“You just missed him.” Jax chuckled and turned to Chibs. Natalie charged at him and dodged Happy. She knocked Jax out of his chair and sat on his chest, pulling out the gun and taking the safety off. Once it was placed above his heart, she heard a dozen other guns’ safety clicked off and felt them pointed at her head.

“Call him back.” She said.

“No can do sweetheart. Besides, don’t you want him to be a Son again? He’s going to do what, a couple years and he’ll be back out. I think you can last that long.” Jax winked. His head whipped to the side as she smacked his cheek with the gun and trained it on his forehead.

“You are a fucked up man who places blame on everyone else.” Natalie growled. She pushed her gun harder into his forehead as he lifted his head up.

“At least I’m no rat.” He continued to smirk as she felt herself growl.

“Come on darling, you think Juice would want this?” Chibs soothed behind her. Natalie’s finger threatened to squeeze the trigger but instead she pulled her left fist back and landed a hit to his mouth and nose.

She leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“If anything happens to him, I will personally hold you responsible. And your guard dogs won’t be there to stop me. I will hunt you down and cause you the same pain, you understand me?” Natalie gripped his hair and yanked when he didn’t respond. He smiled through the blood filling his mouth and nodded in understanding.

Natalie slowly stood up and tucked her gun back into her pants. She turned to look at Chibs and her glare turned into ice. “This is on you. Next time you give a suicidal person advice, how about you don’t fucking suggest suicide.” Natalie walked out of the room and out of the building.

Natalie had tried to go see Juice in jail. She wasn’t on his visitors list and when he finally called to explain, it was months later.

“Baby?” Natalie said, pressing her phone to her ear like it would work better.

“Natalie.” Juice whispered and she whimpered. His voice croaked and was soft and quiet.

“Juan, let me come see you, please.” Natalie tried and there was silence over the line.

“Did you say yes?” Juice asked. Natalie scrunched her eyebrows and quickly wiped the tear away from under her eyes.

“To what, baby?”

“Would you have married me? Are you wearing it?” Juice’s voice became stronger while on the phone.

“Of course. I haven’t seen it yet, I was waiting for you to get out and then you can show it to me.” Natalie choked out and glanced to the ring box on his nightstand.

“Open it now.”

“Juice--” Natalie tried.

“I won’t see you open it. Just do it now, please.” Juice sighed over the phone and Natalie bit her lip. She scooted over and held the box in her hand.

“What do you mean? I can wait.” Natalie said. Her finger rubbed over the top of the box.

“Just open it so I can hear you. Please. I only have a minute left.” Juice said. Natalie let her tear roll down her face and settle on her lip, leaving a salty taste in her mouth as it dropped open when the box opened up.

“Oh Juan, it’s perfect.” The white gold band of the ring had chips of diamonds along the top embedded inside.

“I know it’s not big.”

“Shut up. It’s perfect.” Natalie pulled it out of the black cusion and slid it onto her own ring finger. “We’re getting married when you get out.”

Juice let the line be silent for a little until he cleared his throat.

“Yeah baby. You and me, on a beach. Sunset in the background, it will be perfect.” Juice said. She could hear the lump in his throat he was pushing past. “I have to go, I love you Natalie.”

“I love you too Juan Carlos.” She whispered and waited as the phone line cut a few seconds after. She let out a choked sob and closed the phone, laying it next to her.

She heard about it on the news later. SAMCRO member, Juan Carlos “Juice” Ortiz was killed in jail. She cleaned her knife while she watched the news, looking down at the newest reason for the million coming into her bank account. She did have to admit that she went a little too harsh with the kill but he looked a little too much like Jax to keep her calm. The little diamonds on her left hand sparkled in the light as that was the only part of her that wasn’t covered in the dark red.

#im so sorry #juice ortiz #juice soa #juice ortiz x oc #juan carlos ortiz #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fan fic #a little bit of crazy #marvelatbarnes

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bountyofbeads · 5 years

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Attacks Spur Debate on Extremism and Guns, With Trump on Defense https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/05/us/politics/trump-guns-white-supremacy.html

Mass shootings have nothing to do with video games or mental health. When countries are compared statistics show clearly a relation between the number of guns and mass shootings. US makes up less than 5 % of the world's population but holds 31 % of global mass shooters. It is guns and Trump’s toxic racism.

Below are some comments from Americans around the country.

"If our president won’t call for new gun laws to protect everyone in this country, we need to call for a new president. Loudly, united in voice and resolute that mass shootings and domestic terrorism will not become our new normal."

"Usual GOP responses are worthless. Research on video games has shown no difference in violent tendencies for those playing violent video games and those that do not. Mental illness remedies would be included in health insurance, but wait...there's more...the GOP wants to kill Obamacare, which has mandatory mental health coverage. The only remedy is for Mr Trump to leave office and stop his spewing divisive words. Then we can start working on solutions. Unfortunately real solutions may not come anytime before all 3 branches of government are controlled by the Dems."

"Trump 2006: "I Could Stand In the Middle Of Fifth Avenue And Shoot Somebody And I Wouldn't Lose Any Voters." The man is a walking, talking violence-monger yet he faults video games."

"The mass shooting in El Paso was based on anti-immigrant hatred. Trump wants to "solve" the problem by tying any gun legislation to his hateful anti-immigrant agenda. Now, is there any further need to ask whether Trump's rhetoric of hate is contributing to a climate of violence? He cannot even conceive of an answer to the problem which does not, by definition, make the problem worse. Trumpism is the problem."

"This morning's speech was not Trump, but his writers stringing together statements they think will play well at this moment. Trump is no more than a marketer, which is why he can race-bait one day and call for condemnation of racism and bigotry the next -- focus-group testing whatever might play best. He voluntarily given up any agency in these matters, as has the party he has bought and co-opted. The same group that automatically points to "mental illness" as the problem wants to reduce health care benefits -- which have never been sufficient for mental health anyway -- for millions. The hypocrisy is breathtaking, but may well be tolerated if fear and hatred are the primary motivators for political decision-making. That will be the only way they can win."

"Trump is a hypocrite! He shores up racism on the one hand and condemns racist acts on the other. Does he think people are stupid, or what? The world is watching. Trump's words are empty and meaningless; his modus operandi is plain to see. People don't need his thoughts and prayers; rather, they need to be kept safe. Americans' lives are precious. As a Brit looking in, nothing could be clearer to me: it's the guns, stupid! What is also clear to me is this: for many Americans, the right to bear arms is more important than people's lives. Until this changes, the killing sprees will go on. All decent Americans should stand up and be counted; they should demand that there be meaningful gun control. Without meaningful gun control, America will continue to be a killing field."

“In one voice our nation must condemn racism, bigotry and white supremacy,” Mr. Trump said. That comes from the man who tells elected representatives of color to "go back where they came from." That from the man who started his campaign by calling immigrants from Mexico drug dealers, rapists and criminals. That from the man who bans Muslims from coming to the US. That from the man who talks about "invasions" at his political rallies. Today's comments are pablum, read from a TelePrompter, written by one of his flunkies. Somehow, I have a really hard time ascribing any sincerity to his remarks today."

Shootings Spur Debate on Extremism and Guns, With Trump on Defense

By Alexander Burns | Published August 5, 2019 | New York Times | Posted Aug. 5, 2019 |

The politics of American gun violence follow a predictable pattern in most cases: outraged calls for action from the left, somber gestures of sympathy from the right, a subdued presidential statement delivered from a prepared text — and then, in a matter of days or even hours, a national turning of the page to other matters.

But after a white supremacist gunman massacred 22 people in El Paso, the political world hurtled on Monday toward a more expansive, and potentially more turbulent, confrontation over racist extremism. Though the gun lobby was again on the defensive, it was not alone; so were social media companies and websites like 8chan that have become hives for toxic fantasies and violent ideas that have increasingly leaked into real life, with fatal consequences.

Perhaps most of all, President Trump faced intense new criticism and scrutiny for the plain echoes of his own rhetoric in the El Paso shooter’s anti-immigrant manifesto.

Mr. Trump’s usual methods of deflection sputtered on Monday: His early-morning tweets attacking the news media and calling vaguely for new background checks on gun purchasers did little to ease the political pressure. A midmorning statement he recited from the White House — condemning “white supremacy” and warning of internet-fueled extremism, but declining to address his own past language or call for stern new gun regulations — did nothing to quiet the chorus of censure from Mr. Trump’s political opponents and critics, who are demanding presidential accountability.

No statement better captured how the gun violence debate was giving way to a reckoning on extremism than a statement on Monday afternoon from former President Barack Obama. Mr. Obama, who has weighed in sparingly on public events since leaving office, called both for gun control and for an emphatic national rejection of racism and the people who stoke it.

“We should soundly reject language coming out of the mouths of any of our leaders that feeds a climate of fear and hatred or normalizes racist sentiments,” Mr. Obama wrote, “leaders who demonize those who don’t look like us, or suggest that other people, including immigrants, threaten our way of life, or refer to other people as subhuman, or imply that America belongs to just one certain type of people.”

Mr. Obama did not mention Mr. Trump or any other leaders by name.

The Democrats seeking the presidency in 2020 did not hesitate to do so: Mr. Trump had scarcely finished speaking from the White House on Monday when his Democratic challengers blamed him explicitly for giving succor to extremists. Joseph R. Biden Jr., the former vice president and current Democratic front-runner, accused Mr. Trump on Twitter of having used the presidency “to encourage and embolden white supremacy.” And in an interview with CNN, Mr. Biden said Mr. Trump had “just flat abandoned the theory that we are one people.”

Other political leaders reacted with their own raw distress and alarm. Michael R. Bloomberg, the former New York City mayor who has bankrolled a yearslong crusade for gun control, wrote in a column that the “new atrocities need to change the political dynamic” around guns, and said Mr. Trump’s remarks were little more than “the usual dodge.”

And Democratic presidential candidates rounded on Mr. Trump in a front that transcended ideological and tonal divisions in the party. Senator Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts, a populist liberal, said Mr. Trump must be held responsible for “amplifying these deadly ideologies,” while Senator Cory Booker of New Jersey, who has campaigned as an advocate for racial justice and national healing, derided Mr. Trump’s speech as a “bullshit soup of ineffective words” in a text message that his campaign manager posted on Twitter.

An aide to Mr. Booker said he would deliver a major speech on gun violence on Wednesday morning in South Carolina, at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston where a white supremacist gunman killed nine people in 2015.

And the entwined issues of gun violence and racist extremism began to tumble into elections for offices well beyond the presidency. In Colorado, Mike Johnston, a former state lawmaker and gun-control advocate who is challenging Senator Cory Gardner, a Republican, blamed Mr. Trump for having “created this toxic culture that incites white nationalists.” In 2020, he said, candidates would have to make a stark binary choice.

“Either you’re on the side of the white nationalist holding the AR-15, or you’re on the side of the millions of Americans living in fear of them,” Mr. Johnston said in an interview.

Mr. Trump, for his part, said he was open to “bipartisan solutions” that would address gun violence, and blamed “the internet and social media” for spreading what he termed “sinister ideologies.” He was not specific about any next steps his administration would take, though he stressed his strong support for the death penalty and seemed to express skepticism that gun restrictions would be an appropriate remedy.

“Mental illness and hatred pulls the trigger, not the gun,” Mr. Trump said.

Mr. Trump’s campaign responded to criticism of the president with a statement deploring Democrats for “politicizing a moment of national grief.”

“The president clearly condemned racism, bigotry and white supremacy as he has repeatedly,” said Tim Murtaugh, a spokesman for Mr. Trump’s campaign. “He also called for concrete steps to prevent such violent attacks in the future.”

Mr. Murtaugh added that “no one blamed Bernie Sanders” when one of his supporters attempted to kill a group of Republican lawmakers at a Virginia baseball diamond in 2017. “The responsibility for such horrific attacks,” he said, “lies ultimately with the people who carry them out.”

If Mr. Trump and his allies are adamant that he is blameless in the rise of extremist violence, much of the public believes he has not adequately separated himself from white supremacists. A survey published in March by the Pew Research Center found that a majority of Americans — 56 percent — said Mr. Trump had done “too little to distance himself from white nationalist groups.” That group included about a quarter of people who identified themselves as Republicans or as leaning toward Mr. Trump’s party.

It has not only been liberals who have argued that the mass shooting in El Paso, and another one hours later in Dayton, Ohio, represented a crisis for the country, and a major test for Mr. Trump. The conservative magazine National Review published an editorial on Sunday evening calling on Americans and their government to take on “a murderous and resurgent ideology — white supremacy” in much the same way the government has confronted Islamic terrorism.

Mr. Trump, the magazine said, “should take the time to condemn these actions repeatedly and unambiguously, in both general and specific terms.”

Frank Keating, the former Republican governor of Oklahoma, who led his state through the 1995 bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City by domestic terrorists, said in an interview that the moment called for both new restrictions on firearms and a new tone from the White House. He urged Mr. Trump to “carefully choose your words” to avoid instilling fear or inciting anger.

“He needs to realize the lethality of his rhetoric,” Mr. Keating said.

“The truth is, the president is the secular pope,” he added, “and he needs to be a moral leader as well as a government leader, and to say that this must not occur again — exclamation mark.”

It was not clear whether the El Paso shooting had the potential to become a pivot point in national politics, much as the Oklahoma City bombing had in the 1990s. After that attack, which killed 168 people, President Bill Clinton delivered a searing speech against the “loud and angry voices in America today whose sole goal seems to be to try to keep some people as paranoid as possible” — a denunciation widely understood as being aimed at the extreme right. Mr. Clinton’s handling of the attack helped restore voters’ confidence in him as a strong leader after a shaky start to his presidency.

Mr. Trump has shown no inclination in the past to play a role of such clarifying moral leadership, or to engage in any kind of searching introspection about his own embrace of the politics of anger and racial division. In the aftermath of a white supremacist march in Charlottesville, Va., in 2017 that resulted in the murder of a young woman, Mr. Trump said there had been “very fine people on both sides” of the unrest there. In recent weeks, he has engaged without apology in a sequence of attacks on prominent members of racial minority groups, including five different Democratic members of Congress.

While few Republican lawmakers had anything critical to say about Mr. Trump in public after the El Paso and Dayton shootings, the party harbors profound private anxieties about the impact of his conduct on the 2020 elections. During last year’s midterm elections, Mr. Trump campaigned insistently on a slashing message about illegal immigration, and was rewarded with a sweeping rejection of his party across the country’s diverse cities and prosperous suburbs.

Punctuating the final weeks of the 2018 elections were a pair of traumatic events that may have deepened voters’ feelings of dismay about the president’s violent language and appeals to racism: a failed wave of attempted bombings by a Trump supporter aimed at the president’s critics, and a mass shooting at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, carried out by a gunman who had railed about immigrant “invaders.”

Mr. Trump responded to the Pittsburgh massacre in a tone similar to the one he used on Monday, lamenting the “terrible, terrible thing, what’s going on with hate in our country,” before taking up his caustic message again on the campaign trail. He paid no price for that approach with his largely rural and white political base, which has remained fiercely supportive of his administration through all manner of adversity, error and scandal.

In the Democratic presidential race, the weekend of bloodshed had the effect of muting, at least temporarily, the divisions in the party that were showcased in last week’s debates. The outbreak of solidarity may not last, but it underscored how much the 2020 campaign is likely to take shape in reaction to Mr. Trump’s worldview and behavior.

Even as they aired their disagreements last week, some Democrats appeared to recognize that political reality. In fact, on the morning after his party’s back-to-back debates concluded, Gov. Jay Inslee of Washington State predicted to a reporter in Detroit that his party would have little difficulty rallying together in the 2020 election.

“We’ve got the most unifying gravitational force, outside of a black hole,” Mr. Inslee remarked, “and that’s a white nationalist in the White House.”

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6phuketyacht-blog · 6 years

Text

Nonprofit works with veterinarians and farmers to protect rhinos from poachers in South Africa

It may seem like a jarring scene -- a rhinoceros, sedated, as veterinary staff saw off its horn -- but this is now becoming increasingly common across South Africa as farmers and others desperately try to save the animals from extinction. "It's the lesser of two evils. Do you leave the horn and let someone poach it?" asked Fred Hees, cofounder of the nonprofit Rhino 911, which works to protect rhinoceroses and other wildlife in the country. National parks in South Africa are under siege, plagued by poachers, and Kruger National Park is ground zero. The frequently more than $300,000 reason: the rhinoceros horn, the gold and diamonds of the modern world. "It's quite a dangerous park to work in," said one officer who spoke on the condition that ABC News would blur his face and disguise his voice. Poachers kill rhino for its horn at French zoo No place to call home for Rohingya, facing abuse and attacks In a joint project with ESPN's E60, ABC News' Bob Woodruff and team joined the Kruger forensics staff as they investigated their third crime scene on a recent day. There was not much left for them to work with, just a skull. Using metal detectors, the staff searched for projectiles used to kill the rhinoceros. After poachers shoot the rhinoceros, they move in quickly to hack off its horn. Often the rhinoceros is still alive. A rhinoceros named Vyrsaat lost his horn and most of his face to poachers in South Africa. Constant medical care from veterinarian Louis Greef, left, has kept him alive. A rhinoceros named Vyrsaat survived a similar attack, losing his horn and most of his face. Constant medical care from veterinarian Louis Greef has kept him alive. Poaching incidents are up by more than 8,000 percent across South Africa, from 13 cases in 2007 to nearly 1,100 in 2016. On average, three white rhinoceroses are killed every day, according to the South Africa Department of Environmental Affairs. Experts say white rhinoceroses could be wiped out in the next few years. Trafficked rhinoceros horns can be found throughout Asia, from an illegal wildlife market in Myanmar to a black market in Vietnam. Even though the horns are made of keratin -- no different than the material found in human fingernails -- the horns are coveted for their supposed medicinal value. Global criminal syndicates will stop at nothing to get them. The officer told ABC News that there are eight to 12 poaching gangs inside Kruger every single day. He told ABC News that he'd seen 1,500 white rhinoceroses killed in his time at Kruger. There might be some hope, though, in the form of a nonprofit called Rhino 911. Poaching incidents are up by more than 8,000 percent across South Africa, from 13 cases in 2007 to nearly 1,100 in 2016. On average, three to five white rhinoceros are killed every day, leaving babies orphaned. Rhino 911 works around the clock The nonprofit was cofounded by Hees, the owner of Battle Born Munitions, a weapons company in Nevada, and South African farmer and pilot Nico Jacobs. "If you travel across this country, you see how vast it is here," Hees said. "The rhino is spread so far. They hear shots fired at night. Who's gonna respond to that? Right now, no one except for Rhino 911." Hees, Jacobs and their team work around the clock to protect rhinoceroses and other wildlife. And, they're taking this battle to the air with a Bell 407 GT helicopter, an updated version of the U.S. Army's Kiowa Warrior. Veterinarian Gerardhus Sheepers and his team travel across the Savannah, treating wounded rhinoceroses. The process can be dangerous and the rhinoceroses can be unpredictable. "Despite all the risk and all the other factors, you just can't stop doing it," Jacobs said. "So, it's what we do." Rhino 911's advanced, state-of-the-art technology makes tracking people and animals from 4,000 to 8,000 feet in the air a reality and gives the team an advantage against poachers. But, Rhino 911's work and involvement in South Africa's Northwest Province have put the team's members in the crosshairs. "We were informed by some people in the intel community that we should step lightly because our names have been put on a list to be targeted," Hees said. "And as I asked, 'Targeted for what?' They said, 'Just be careful. Remove yourself from Facebook. Remove your family pictures.'" A former South African defense official who was only willing to speak to ABC News in shadow, with his face blurred and voice altered, said he had specific information about how Rhino 911 might be targeted. "Once they (poachers) come into your country to kill an animal, if you stand in their way, they will come for you as well," the former official said. "[The poachers are] looking at bringing in bigger weapons, in for helicopters, to shoot at them. And that was including RPG (rocket-propelled grenade) 7s. ... The poachers would like to shoot down a helicopter or aircraft." Hees said that in September 2016, a private security organization was called out to a poaching incident. Three poachers were arrested and the security team uncovered an A4 antitank rocket. Hees said that through a network, the team had traced the rocket's origin. It had been issued by the U.S. government to an army in Mosul, Iraq, before ISIS took over the city. Once ISIS overran Mosul, the rocket made its way to South Africa. ISIS reaches South Africa ISIS has already made its mark in Africa with brutal attacks in Egypt, Kenya and Libya and recently the group was connected to an attack against the U.S. in Niger, killing four service members in an ambush. "The way we look at it is, one single horn on the black market can buy as many as 1,000 AK-47 rifles," Hees said. John Cohen, an ABC News contributor and former counterterrorism coordinator at the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, said ISIS has been very creative in finding ways to generate funding for its terrorist activities. "They've sold oil on the black market. They have sold stolen antiquities. ... They have engaged in criminal activities like kidnapping and extortion," Cohen said. All of this has come at a very tense time for the country, where violent crime and unemployment have been soaring and President Jacob Zuma faces an escalating movement to remove him from office. "South Africa's northern border is known for being porous. Their border control organizations and law-enforcement organizations are overstretched. [There are] concerns about corruption in government and there's large areas of land that are essentially ungoverned," Cohen said. Also, ISIS fighters are on the run after losing Raqqa, their capital in Syria, to Iraqi government forces, possibly making South Africa more appealing. "Law enforcement, counterterrorism intelligence agencies are concerned that it would be an attractive safe haven for fighters fleeing Syria and Iraq," Cohen said. Land owned by largely white farmers is now frequently under attack. Farmers are assaulted and animals are poached, making farming in South Africa widely a very dangerous occupation. Even Rhino 911 partner Jacobs' farm has been attacked four times. "Unfortunately this is the reality we live in," he told ABC News. "I grew up here. If I need to die here, I'll die here and be part of the statistics." The threats have been a boon for security companies with skyrocketing sales of electric fences, sensors, cameras and now possibly even helicopters, with Rhino 911 looking to expand its fleet and its duties. Veterinary staff remove a rhinoceros' horn and sand it down. Herds of hornless rhino Herds of hornless rhinoceros could become the new normal in South Africa, farmers said. "We want our rhino to last for as many years as possible," said Pelham Jones, chairman of the Private Rhino Owners Association. "We want to be able to harvest horns whenever we can to meet this international demand." Many farmers say it's a no-brainer and some who once opposed de-horning the animals say they have had a change of heart. "Whether we like it or not, we have to de-horn these rhino," owner Lynne Mactavish said. "I fought that decision for about five years. ... That cost us five rhino and plunged us into the worst http://automs.co.za nightmare we have ever been in." But some critics say private farmers are simply harvesting horns for future profit. Mactavish told ABC News de-horning was a last resort to save the beloved animals. "Every single one of us, standing there, looking at one of our animals bleeding to death and suffering. In that instance, you know, there's no other option," she said. "We de-horn." The horns are cut and sanded, leaving behind only a couple of inches so it can regrow, providing an inexhaustible supply of a commodity more valuable than gold. Every horn is collected, measured and bagged in front of a nature conservation representative. "The government's still doing a national audit so they know exactly how much horn is in the country," Mactavish said. "And then what we'd like to establish is some sort [of] broker system. Our intention is not to flood the market at all -- like they did with ivory. It's to slowly supply the demand and we can do that with de-horned rhinos." The debate over whether to lift a ban, making it legal to sell rhinoceros horn internationally, has reached a boiling point. Many private rhinoceros owners in South Africa say they believe that lifting the ban would curb poaching. Everyone does not agree. "Unfortunately, what's happening is that individuals are banking on extinction," said Jeff Flocken, North America regional director of the International Fund for Animal Welfare. "So we've seen a shift. It's gone from health to wealth. The reason this animal is being killed right now is speculating on extinction." With rhinoceros-horn demand at an all-time high and criminal and terror groups profiting off the sales, the animals that are not under lock and key are being poached. "This demand is so unbelievably high," Rhino 911's Jacobs said. "If we don't do anything about it, we're losing these animals in our lifetime." http://abcnews.go.com/International/nonprofit-works-veterinarians-farmers-protect-rhinos-poachers-south/story?id=50665227

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usnewsaggregator-blog · 7 years

Text

Inside the harrowing quest to protect rhinos from poachers

New Post has been published on http://usnewsaggregator.com/inside-the-harrowing-quest-to-protect-rhinos-from-poachers/

Inside the harrowing quest to protect rhinos from poachers

It may seem like a jarring scene — a rhinoceros, sedated, as veterinary staff saw off its horn — but this is now becoming increasingly common across South Africa as farmers and others desperately try to save the animals from extinction.

“It’s the lesser of two evils. Do you leave the horn and let someone poach it?” asked Fred Hees, cofounder of the nonprofit Rhino 911, which works to protect rhinoceroses and other wildlife in the country.

National parks in South Africa are under siege, plagued by poachers, and Kruger National Park is ground zero. The frequently more than $300,000 reason: the rhinoceros horn, the gold and diamonds of the modern world.

“It’s quite a dangerous park to work in,” said one officer who spoke on the condition that ABC News would blur his face and disguise his voice.

Poachers kill rhino for its horn at French zoo

No place to call home for Rohingya, facing abuse and attacks

In a joint project with ESPN’s E60, ABC News’ Bob Woodruff and team joined the Kruger forensics staff as they investigated their third crime scene on a recent day. There was not much left for them to work with, just a skull. Using metal detectors, the staff searched for projectiles used to kill the rhinoceros.

After poachers shoot the rhinoceros, they move in quickly to hack off its horn. Often the rhinoceros is still alive.

A rhinoceros named Vyrsaat survived a similar attack, losing his horn and most of his face. Constant medical care from veterinarian Louis Greef has kept him alive.

Poaching incidents are up by more than 8,000 percent across South Africa, from 13 cases in 2007 to nearly 1,100 in 2016. On average, three white rhinoceroses are killed every day, according to the South Africa Department of Environmental Affairs. Experts say white rhinoceroses could be wiped out in the next few years.

Trafficked rhinoceros horns can be found throughout Asia, from an illegal wildlife market in Myanmar to a black market in Vietnam. Even though the horns are made of keratin — no different than the material found in human fingernails — the horns are coveted for their supposed medicinal value.

Global criminal syndicates will stop at nothing to get them.

The officer told ABC News that there are eight to 12 poaching gangs inside Kruger every single day. He told ABC News that he’d seen 1,500 white rhinoceroses killed in his time at Kruger.

There might be some hope, though, in the form of a nonprofit called Rhino 911.

Rhino 911 works around the clock

The nonprofit was cofounded by Hees, the owner of Battle Born Munitions, a weapons company in Nevada, and South African farmer and pilot Nico Jacobs.

“If you travel across this country, you see how vast it is here,” Hees said. “The rhino is spread so far. They hear shots fired at night. Who’s gonna respond to that? Right now, no one except for Rhino 911.”

Hees, Jacobs and their team work around the clock to protect rhinoceroses and other wildlife. And, they’re taking this battle to the air with a Bell 407 GT helicopter, an updated version of the U.S. Army’s Kiowa Warrior.

Veterinarian Gerardhus Sheepers and his team travel across the Savannah, treating wounded rhinoceroses. The process can be dangerous and the rhinoceroses can be unpredictable.

“Despite all the risk and all the other factors, you just can’t stop doing it,” Jacobs said. “So, it’s what we do.”

Rhino 911’s advanced, state-of-the-art technology makes tracking people and animals from 4,000 to 8,000 feet in the air a reality and gives the team an advantage against poachers.

But, Rhino 911’s work and involvement in South Africa’s Northwest Province have put the team’s members in the crosshairs.

“We were informed by some people in the intel community that we should step lightly because our names have been put on a list to be targeted,” Hees said. “And as I asked, ‘Targeted for what?’ They said, ‘Just be careful. Remove yourself from Facebook. Remove your family pictures.'”

A former South African defense official who was only willing to speak to ABC News in shadow, with his face blurred and voice altered, said he had specific information about how Rhino 911 might be targeted.

“Once they (poachers) come into your country to kill an animal, if you stand in their way, they will come for you as well,” the former official said. “[The poachers are] looking at bringing in bigger weapons, in for helicopters, to shoot at them. And that was including RPG (rocket-propelled grenade) 7s. … The poachers would like to shoot down a helicopter or aircraft.”

Hees said that in September 2016, a private security organization was called out to a poaching incident. Three poachers were arrested and the security team uncovered an A4 antitank rocket.

Hees said that through a network, the team had traced the rocket’s origin. It had been issued by the U.S. government to an army in Mosul, Iraq, before ISIS took over the city. Once ISIS overran Mosul, the rocket made its way to South Africa.

ISIS reaches South Africa

ISIS has already made its mark in Africa with brutal attacks in Egypt, Kenya and Libya and recently the group was connected to an attack against the U.S. in Niger, killing four service members in an ambush.

“The way we look at it is, one single horn on the black market can buy as many as 1,000 AK-47 rifles,” Hees said.

John Cohen, an ABC News contributor and former counterterrorism coordinator at the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, said ISIS has been very creative in finding ways to generate funding for its terrorist activities.

“They’ve sold oil on the black market. They have sold stolen antiquities. … They have engaged in criminal activities like kidnapping and extortion,” Cohen said.

All of this has come at a very tense time for the country, where violent crime and unemployment have been soaring and President Jacob Zuma faces an escalating movement to remove him from office.

“South Africa’s northern border is known for being porous. Their border control organizations and law-enforcement organizations are overstretched. [There are] concerns about corruption in government and there’s large areas of land that are essentially ungoverned,” Cohen said.

Also, ISIS fighters are on the run after losing Raqqa, their capital in Syria, to Iraqi government forces, possibly making South Africa more appealing.

“Law enforcement, counterterrorism intelligence agencies are concerned that it would be an attractive safe haven for fighters fleeing Syria and Iraq,” Cohen said.

Land owned by largely white farmers is now frequently under attack. Farmers are assaulted and animals are poached, making farming in South Africa widely a very dangerous occupation. Even Rhino 911 partner Jacobs’ farm has been attacked four times.

“Unfortunately this is the reality we live in,” he told ABC News. “I grew up here. If I need to die here, I’ll die here and be part of the statistics.”

The threats have been a boon for security companies with skyrocketing sales of electric fences, sensors, cameras and now possibly even helicopters, with Rhino 911 looking to expand its fleet and its duties.

Herds of hornless rhino

Herds of hornless rhinoceros could become the new normal in South Africa, farmers said.

“We want our rhino to last for as many years as possible,” said Pelham Jones, chairman of the Private Rhino Owners Association. “We want to be able to harvest horns whenever we can to meet this international demand.”

Many farmers say it’s a no-brainer and some who once opposed de-horning the animals say they have had a change of heart.

“Whether we like it or not, we have to de-horn these rhino,” owner Lynne Mactavish said. “I fought that decision for about five years. … That cost us five rhino and plunged us into the worst nightmare we have ever been in.”

But some critics say private farmers are simply harvesting horns for future profit. Mactavish told ABC News de-horning was a last resort to save the beloved animals.

“Every single one of us, standing there, looking at one of our animals bleeding to death and suffering. In that instance, you know, there’s no other option,” she said. “We de-horn.”

The horns are cut and sanded, leaving behind only a couple of inches so it can regrow, providing an inexhaustible supply of a commodity more valuable than gold. Every horn is collected, measured and bagged in front of a nature conservation representative.

“The government’s still doing a national audit so they know exactly how much horn is in the country,” Mactavish said. “And then what we’d like to establish is some sort [of] broker system. Our intention is not to flood the market at all — like they did with ivory. It’s to slowly supply the demand and we can do that with de-horned rhinos.”

The debate over whether to lift a ban, making it legal to sell rhinoceros horn internationally, has reached a boiling point. Many private rhinoceros owners in South Africa say they believe that lifting the ban would curb poaching. Everyone does not agree.

“Unfortunately, what’s happening is that individuals are banking on extinction,” said Jeff Flocken, North America regional director of the International Fund for Animal Welfare. “So we’ve seen a shift. It’s gone from health to wealth. The reason this animal is being killed right now is speculating on extinction.”

With rhinoceros-horn demand at an all-time high and criminal and terror groups profiting off the sales, the animals that are not under lock and key are being poached.

“This demand is so unbelievably high,” Rhino 911’s Jacobs said. “If we don’t do anything about it, we’re losing these animals in our lifetime.”

Original Article:

Click here

#harrowing #inside #poachers #protect #quest #rhinos

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usnewsaggregator-blog · 7 years

Text

Nonprofit works with veterinarians and farmers to protect rhinos in South Africa

New Post has been published on http://usnewsaggregator.com/nonprofit-works-with-veterinarians-and-farmers-to-protect-rhinos-in-south-africa/

Nonprofit works with veterinarians and farmers to protect rhinos in South Africa

“It’s quite a dangerous park to work in,” said one officer who spoke on the condition that ABC News would blur his face and disguise his voice.

Poachers kill rhino for its horn at French zoo

No place to call home for Rohingya, facing abuse and attacks

After poachers shoot the rhinoceros, they move in quickly to hack off its horn. Often the rhinoceros is still alive.

A rhinoceros named Vyrsaat survived a similar attack, losing his horn and most of his face. Constant medical care from veterinarian Louis Greef has kept him alive.

Global criminal syndicates will stop at nothing to get them.

The officer told ABC News that there are eight to 12 poaching gangs inside Kruger every single day. He told ABC News that he’d seen 1,500 white rhinoceroses killed in his time at Kruger.

There might be some hope, though, in the form of a nonprofit called Rhino 911.

Rhino 911 works around the clock

The nonprofit was cofounded by Hees, the owner of Battle Born Munitions, a weapons company in Nevada, and South African farmer and pilot Nico Jacobs.

Veterinarian Gerardhus Sheepers and his team travel across the Savannah, treating wounded rhinoceroses. The process can be dangerous and the rhinoceroses can be unpredictable.

“Despite all the risk and all the other factors, you just can’t stop doing it,” Jacobs said. “So, it’s what we do.”

Rhino 911’s advanced, state-of-the-art technology makes tracking people and animals from 4,000 to 8,000 feet in the air a reality and gives the team an advantage against poachers.

But, Rhino 911’s work and involvement in South Africa’s Northwest Province have put the team’s members in the crosshairs.

Hees said that in September 2016, a private security organization was called out to a poaching incident. Three poachers were arrested and the security team uncovered an A4 antitank rocket.

ISIS reaches South Africa

“The way we look at it is, one single horn on the black market can buy as many as 1,000 AK-47 rifles,” Hees said.

“They’ve sold oil on the black market. They have sold stolen antiquities. … They have engaged in criminal activities like kidnapping and extortion,” Cohen said.

All of this has come at a very tense time for the country, where violent crime and unemployment have been soaring and President Jacob Zuma faces an escalating movement to remove him from office.

Also, ISIS fighters are on the run after losing Raqqa, their capital in Syria, to Iraqi government forces, possibly making South Africa more appealing.

“Law enforcement, counterterrorism intelligence agencies are concerned that it would be an attractive safe haven for fighters fleeing Syria and Iraq,” Cohen said.

“Unfortunately this is the reality we live in,” he told ABC News. “I grew up here. If I need to die here, I’ll die here and be part of the statistics.”

Herds of hornless rhino

Herds of hornless rhinoceros could become the new normal in South Africa, farmers said.

Many farmers say it’s a no-brainer and some who once opposed de-horning the animals say they have had a change of heart.

But some critics say private farmers are simply harvesting horns for future profit. Mactavish told ABC News de-horning was a last resort to save the beloved animals.

“Every single one of us, standing there, looking at one of our animals bleeding to death and suffering. In that instance, you know, there’s no other option,” she said. “We de-horn.”

With rhinoceros-horn demand at an all-time high and criminal and terror groups profiting off the sales, the animals that are not under lock and key are being poached.

“This demand is so unbelievably high,” Rhino 911’s Jacobs said. “If we don’t do anything about it, we’re losing these animals in our lifetime.”

Original Article:

Click here

#farmers #nonprofit #protect #rhinos #south #veterinarians #works

0 notes