assassination-attempt

anonymous asked:

for the writing trope, enemies stuck in a cave/cabin/small space together?

-how likely I am to write it

  I’m sure it’ll come up at some point,now that it’s been brought to my attention.

- what character(s) or pairing I’d most likely write it for

  Any Decepticon and Mirage. Mirage would be the one at a disadvantage, somehow, and is willing to bargain. The Decepticon heard rumors about what it’s like to clang high-class tailpipe, and he’s willing to go along with the bargain in order to get some. It will likely be everything he imagined, with extra disdain and surprising flexibility. It will just as likely end with Mirage attempting to assassinate him in the afterglow.

Oops! First Interactions

Send me a symbol for our Muses to meet when the following accident occurs…

♔ - one Muse hits the other while opening a door too fast/forcefully
♕ - one Muse gestures wildly and smacks another passing by
♖ - one Muse shoots the other (non-lethal…probably)
♗ - one Muse trips the other
♘- one Muse drops a bucket of ice water on the other, mistaking them for someone else
♟- one Muse spills something on the other
♙ - one Muse gets thrown into the other during a fight and injures them
♚ - one Muse saves the other from a dangerous situation, only to end up in danger themselves
♛ - one Muse runs into the other with their bike / skateboard / golf cart / etc.
♜ - one Muse attempts to assassinate the other after mistaking them for their target
♝- one Muse accidentally casts a spell on the other

2

No, there was no “assassination attempt” against Trump — in reality, supporters attacked a peaceful protestor

Here’s what happened: 

  • Trump was delivering a speech in Nevada. 
  • A fight broke out in front of the stage after a man identified as Austyn Crites held a “Republicans Against Trump” sign. 
  • Someone in the crowd reportedly shouted, “gun!”
  • Trump was whisked off stage. 
  • Crites was detained. No weapon was found. He was released.
  • Trump was returned a short time later. 

Trump’s social media director and Donald Trump Jr.  both retweeted the above tweet calling it an “assassination attempt.” Cries said the following:

“All of a sudden, because they couldn’t grab the sign, or whatever happened, bam, I get tackled by all these people who were just, like, kicking me and grabbing me in the crotch and just, just beating the crap out of me. And somebody yells something about a gun, and so that’s when things really got out of hand.”

The Trump campaign released a statement later in the evening that obfuscated the truth.

3

This Day in True Crime

8 January: the 2011 Tucson shooting

On 8 January 2011, Jared Lee Loughner (pictured above left) made an attempt on the life of U.S. Representative Gabbie Giffords (picture above right) in a shooting in a Safeway parking lot in Tucson, Arizona at around 10:10am local time. The shooting left six people, including a nine-year-old girl, a federal District Court judge, and one of Giffords’ staffers, fatally wounded. Giffords was severely injured, but she survived a gunshot wound to the head. Since then, she recovered well and has been an outstanding advocate for gun control.

you know what also breaks my heart? how the general public in the mcu does have this awareness that tony is mentally/emotionally unstable (we know that from the media reports) but not only is that demonized, it’s also – and arguably more prominently – sold as entertainment

the public/media straight-up fetishizes tony’s trauma, honestly, you get entertainment TV reporting on a stark-funded gala like “oh but tony stark is not coming, sources hold that he’s got PTSD and has been bed-ridden for weeks! [switches to picture of tony looking disheveled during his last press conference].” in iron man 2, the whole shtick is that tony’s too unstable and self-destructive to be iron man but oh yeah everyone goes to his birthday party and cheers as he drunkenly dons armor and destroys his own home. they run closer and try to snap pictures of his assassination attempt – and mind you, the fact that pepper and happy are the single two people that are WORRIED that tony just randomly took the wheel of a formula 1 car during a professional grand-prix just fucking BLOWS MY MIND like that is damn well near-suicidal reckless self-endangerment for absolutely no fucking apparent reason other than “you know what? i wanna do it” and people watch that like it is the most fascinating spectacle ever

tony’s in the hospital visiting his comatose friend and the SECOND he steps out there are reporters all over him and RANDOM CIVILIANS with their SMART PHONES specifically pushing him for a reaction like “when are you gonna catch this guy! [shrug] just sayin’” – and this whole scene still stands as one of the best bits from IM3, possibly the whole mcu re: the treatment of tony by the media, because that’s the one time tony’s awareness of the abuse and resentment toward it reeeeeeally shows – he’s like “oh is that what you wanted” after delivering his statement and then he CATCHES THE GUY’S PHONE AND THROWS IT AGAINST THE WALL, “BILL ME” holy shit

anyway like?? it’s so messed up?? and it’s a 616 tony thing too, especially re: the media ~darling topic of The Alcoholism. tony has to deal with his trauma in front of a merciless and fetishistic audience and that’s just…. yikes :(

The White House Correspondents’ Dinner is a long-standing tradition and symbol of comity between the president and the press. It’s also for CHARITY and Trump is skipping out this year. The last president who didn’t attend was Reagan 36 years ago. His reason: he was recovering from an assassination attempt. Trump’s reason? He’s afraid of the press.

I’m curious to hear his formal excuse, or rather what his pal Spicey comes up with. Whatever it is, I bet he’ll sneak away to Mar-a-lago for another weekend of golf. It seems so nice to have the luxury of escaping reality.

TBH? the events of the TOS movies are 1000x better when you remember that Kirk dragged Bones’ ass out of retirement. I feel like 85% of the time his inner monologue is “you know what i dont even give a fuck any more”
star trek IV: we’re gonna go back in time to pick up some fucking whales? why the fuck not. while we’re at it lemme potentially change the timeline of all recorded history by helping a lady. i’m here on borrowed time.
star trek VI: instead of worrying when jim is getting his ass kicked on rura penthe i’m just gonna cheer him on. this is all great, just how I wanted to spend my golden years. boy do i love me some assassination attempts. having a good time. what the fuc

Drabble Part 2/5

A/N: It’s so strange… I’ll be writing something super sad one second, then something super fluffy the next. Drabbles are weird. XD

Words: 3440


11. (Arno Dorian)

It was a grueling truth, the reality that you may very well die. You looked down at your crimson stained hands, the heat of the thick liquid contrasting with your rapidly cooling body. Death was holding you in its crushing grip, dragging you down, and somehow you were still holding on. Because of him, you realized. You were holding on for Arno.

“Just a little while longer.” He rasped, his feet heavy against the stone rooftop as he shifted you uncomfortably in his arms. Every movement had you crying out, jolting the fiery pain to life. If it wasn’t for the startling fear in Arno’s eyes, you were positive you would’ve already been amongst the dead. But you couldn’t leave him. Your head lolled against his chest, eyelids heavy as you began drifting off. “No,” Arno’s shout startled you back into semi-consciousness. “I’m not losing you today, you hear me?” A hum left your parted lips as you held onto him tightly. Just a little bit longer… “Please,” he begged, the wind whipping against your face as he sprinted even faster, pushing himself to the max. “Don’t leave me like this.”

“Arno,” you choked, your vision swimming. You just needed to hold on… Just… His worried voice was drowned out by the blood rushing around your mind, your heart slowing in your chest. Maybe if you just closed your eyes…


12. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)

“Wait,” he growled, pulling you back as you jumped. You fell into his hard body, both of you hitting the ground painfully.

“What?” You seethed as quietly as you could, your eyes flickering between him and your target as you stood back on your feet, dusting yourself off.

“You can not go yet.” He explained as if it made total sense to pull you back from the man who was in perfect position for your blade.

“I need to go,” you argued, pointing down at your target. “If he moves, it will be too hard to find another place to strike. Now is the perfect opportunity.”

“Have you learned nothing?” He hissed, hand tight on your white robes. “What would you do after you had taken his life?”

“I would run there.” You pointed to the stacked boxes that stopped about halfway to the top of a nearby building. “Then I would wait in the hay cart on the other side of the building. After I can scale that building and move along the rooftops silently and efficiently.” You stated dryly, knowing that there was nothing for him to argue. Unfortunately, he was stubborn.

“And what if you get caught by them?” He gestured to two rather large guards waiting by the exit of the alley you were in. “You could not fight them off.” Ouch.

“Are you questioning my ability, Altaïr?” Your voice was laced with annoyance, his haughty tone doing nothing to quell your anger. You’d trained for the majority of your life and you were confident in your abilities.

“That is not what I meant.” He backtracked, hands held up in surrender. “I only mean that you could get injured or worse.”

“That’s part of being an Assassin.” You retorted, watching as his jaw tensed beneath the shadow of his hood.

“Just,” he paused, almost as if he didn’t think he should finish, “be careful.” Half of your mouth tilted up in a smile, a hand pulling your hood down to obscure your face.

“I always am.”


13. (Ezio Auditore)

You sighed heavily into the shining, noon sky. Rome was bustling below, the yells of merchants and buyers alike ringing throughout the heat of day. Pulling both knees to your chest, you watched as men and women prepared for the event to come. You really didn’t want to go to this ball, but your father hadn’t given you much of a choice. There was a sudden change in the atmosphere; where the sun had once shone, a shadow now cast over.

“Ezio,” you greeted stiffly, not bothering to look up at the Assassin.

“What are you doing up here?” He asked, taking a seat next to you. You sent a half smile in his direction, your hands playing with your white robes.

“I needed time to think.”

“For the ball,” Ezio nodded, his muscles tensing. “What happened to your date?” His voice was bitter, a scowl on his scarred lips. That gave you pause, your lips turning up in realization.

“You’re jealous!” You laughed, his scowl deepening at your accusation.

“I am not.” He argued. Continuing to chuckle, you stood up with your hands on your hips.

“You, Ezio Auditore, are jeal-” Your sentence was cut off with a squeak as your back hit the stone tiles roughly, wide eyes looking up to Ezio.

“I am not jealous.” His eyes were like fire, burning every bit of your body they went over. He jerked you up, dropping his mouth against yours vigorously. You moaned against the heat of him, his tongue thrusting in between your lips at the movement. Everything suddenly felt too hot, his hands roaming all over your body with determined curiosity. When he finally felt satisfied, he stood up, leaving you lying on the ground and breathing heavily. You followed his movements a moment afterwards, watching him curiously. He hadn’t moved, instead observing you as his fingers slid along his lips, almost as if just realizing what he’d done. You wanted him, needed him to repeat his actions.

“Jealous,” you breathed, laughing as you took off across the rooftop. You didn’t even have to hear his steps heavy against the stone to know he was following.


14. (Shay Cormac)

The hand on your hip wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the one you wanted. The blue eyes shining beneath the lights, crinkled up as he laughed, were not the ones you wished to stare into. The crisp accent that sounded whenever he spoke wasn’t the one you needed to hear. But it didn’t matter. Shay wasn’t there, and even if he was, he would never think of you the same way you thought of him. He was too guarded, too untrusting to allow you that close to him. A soft groan left your parted lips as you tried to tune into the conversation once again. He was talking about trading stuff, at least you thought he was. He could also be talking about his family. You hadn’t the slightest, and honestly, you couldn’t care less. You were scanning the area, your eyes attempting to adjust to the overly bright lights. They really did try too hard at these things. That was when you spotted the dark gaze, looking to you with more intensity than you’d ever seen before. You wanted to call to Shay, but you were cut off before you could start by lips upon your own. It took you by surprise, prompting you to stand absolutely frozen for a whole minute. It wasn’t right, the person you wanted more than anything not being the one moving against your lips. By the time you actually realized what was happening, the man had been thrown off of you by your leather clad savior.

“Shay,” you breathed, watching him intently. He ignored the gasps of the crowds, picking you up with a stiff arm beneath your legs and one behind your back. His movements were swift and silent, that of a trained killer. Your eyes were on his jaw, clenched with tension. Despite how angry he seemed to be, his hands were still holding you as gently as possible. “Shay,” you ground out, trying to understand what he was doing. He slammed you against the side of the estate, keeping you trapped in between his arms while his knee came up to rub in between your legs.

“You’re mine.” He growled, hands working furiously on removing your clothing. You shivered, whether from the actual cold or Shay’s expression, you weren’t entirely sure.


15. (Shay Cormac)

The clatter of your sword hitting the stone reverberated throughout the night sky, weighing down on the two of you like you were carrying the world itself. Your eyes were heavy, reality finally dawning on you. No matter what he’s done, no matter how long he’s been away, you can’t hurt him. You dropped your head, your arms laying limply by your sides.

“I can’t,” you whispered, not daring to look up to him. “I won’t,” you stated louder than before. His leather boots groaned against the cobblestone as he walked towards you, the sound of metal on metal as he re sheathed his blades. A heavy, warm hand rested on your shoulder, prompting you to look into his dark gaze. His eyes were shining with pain, hurt etched across his expression.

“I never wanted to do this.” His voice was barely audible above the distant sounds of the city, the happy cheering only furthering the dampened mood. “I was forced to.” You lifted a hand, placing it ever so softly against his heated cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, a hand raking through his dark hair as he buried his head into your chest, wrapping you in a tight embrace. “It’s okay,” you repeated again, his hot tears rolling down your chest. You closed your eyes against the wave of emotion, holding him even closer.

“He wants you dead,” he muttered against your skin, his tears still wet against your clothing.

“I know.” And you did. Haytham Kenway had every reason to want you dead. You were an Assassin who had gotten in his way more than enough times to pose a threat. Although, you looked down at the top of Shay’s head, moonlight reflecting off the black tresses, you would never pose a threat to him. You never could; Templar or not, you loved the man.

“I love you,” he said lowly, almost as if reading your thoughts.

“And I love you.” Slowly, he pulled back from your embrace, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

“Go,” he whispered, “Please.” His voice was broken, face twisted in pain. “I can’t…” He trailed off, looking to the ground shamefully. “Please don’t make me hurt you.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “But, Shay, I don’t wish to leave you.”

“I’ll find you again,” he stood a little straighter, determination lacing his tone. “I’ll find you when this is all over and I swear to you, I will make this right.” You nodded, backing away from him. “Just don’t forget me.” His voice was carried by the wind as you ran, your vision blurring with the onslaught of tears and your heart breaking within your chest.


16. (Edward Kenway)

Admittedly, you’d had way too many drinks. But hey, the suave captain sure as hell didn’t seem to be complaining. In fact, he almost seemed to be enjoying it. It’s not like you were doing anything that different than normal, you were just a little less reserved. Your touches lingered a little longer, your words purposely holding double meanings. You couldn’t help it, you were much too drunk and he was much too attractive. You took another swig of your rum, laughing at something one of the drunken crew members said.

“Hand me a little more rum, lass.” Edward whispered, his lips moving against your ear. You shivered, smiling at his wink as you picked up a tankard of rum. You placed a hand on his upper thigh, leaning across the table to hand him the drink. His eyes followed you, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he watched you hungrily.

“This what you want?” You asked, shifting more weight onto the hand on his thigh while simultaneously moving it higher. His throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly, his hand taking the drink from you and placing it on the table.

“Oh, you are just asking for it now.” His voice was husky, causing you to bite your lip while thoughts of him using that tone in other, more pleasurable, scenarios assaulted your mind. He leaned forward again, all the sounds and smells of the tavern drifting away as his breath danced around your cheek. He was speaking, telling you something, but you were too focused on the smell of salt, leather, and alcohol emanating from him. He pulled back, a smirk on his face and primal intent shining in his crystal orbs. Unfortunately, you didn’t hear a word he said. Deciding to take a chance, you squeezed his thigh and sent a wink, abandoning the table in favor of leaving the stuffy pub. You weren’t certain he followed you, at least not until you felt the gentle yet firm hand against the small of your back.


17. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)

Your scowl deepened at the look of disappointment in his eyes, your arms unconsciously crossing over your chest despite the ache of protest from your ribs.

“I was doing my job.” You stated curtly, moving your gaze from the Master Assassin. He was angry with you, even though he shouldn’t be. You’d only done what was asked of you; nothing more and nothing less.

“You almost got yourself killed,” he argued, a clamp sounding as he took a step forward. “You were meant to finish your target, not die.”

“I didn’t die.” You ground out, motioning wildly to yourself. You clenched your jaw at the pain that came with the action. “I’m still alive, see?”

“You were barely alive when you stumbled back here.” Both hands held tightly onto the sheets, your eyes diverting down. Maybe you had been a little reckless, but it wasn’t on purpose. You hadn’t meant to get yourself nearly killed. It was entirely an accident. “Did you ever think of how that would make me feel?” Your head snapped up, jaw dropped as he continued in the most irritated of tones. “Do you know what I’d do if you died? If I never saw you again?” He was getting more and more hysterical with each word, finally abandoning talking in favor of wrapping both arms around your upper half. “I thought I’d lost you.” You closed your eyes, softly raking a hand through his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere.”


18. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)

His eyes were on you like an eagle readying himself for the kill. You had no idea what you’d done to make Altaïr so angry, but it was almost scary. Although, the intensity that you were sure was meant to intimidate you, just aroused you further. He was an attractive man; anybody could see that. But it was more than just his looks that aroused you, it was the way he acted so confidently. Unfortunately, that confidence was giving you pause at the moment. He seemed so sure about something, so angry about whatever it was. So much so that it had you thinking back to every single wrong thing you’d ever done to the man. The list was quite short and none of them happened recently, but still, something was on his mind. You were snapped out of your reverie when a hand whipped out of nowhere, tugging you into a bedroom. Your back was slammed against rough stone, eyes wide as you looked to your hooded assaulter. Altaïr’s muscles were stiff, his frame trapping you against the wall.

“Altaïr,” you breathed, not sure if you should be relieved it was him or only more alert.

“(Y/N).” His voice was strange, the underlying tension bubbling to the surface.

“What are you doing?” You inquired, watching him as his gaze moved down your body slowly.

“I’m sick of watching silently as you tease me everyday.” He growled, eyes blazing.

“Wha-” He cut you off, lips rough against your own. You were frozen, lips parted and eyes still open. Taking the opportunity, he slipped his velvety tongue inside your mouth, hands tightening on your wrists. He tasted of mint and cinnamon and tentatively, you responded to his kiss causing him to drop your hands in favor of holding your face between his palms as he explored your lips with fervor. You were practically putty in his hands, following every one of his bold movements. He didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, his body touching every bit of your own. And, you leaned into his touches, you couldn’t be more glad.


19. (Shay Cormac)

Your combined laughs echoed around the hall as you continued walking down the wooden walkway, Shay by your side. The two of you were reminiscing of past times, something you did quite often, as you made your way to your respective bedrooms. It was a rather nice inn, one that Haytham no doubt picked out. He could be a little… overly grand at times. Oh well, you looked to the Irishman with shining eyes, you’d endure anything Haytham could throw at you so long as you got to spend time with Shay. He smiled warmly back, watching you curiously as you moved to open your door.

“No, that’s the wrong- oh, dammit.” Your eyes were wide, Shay standing directly behind you. It was like everyone was frozen, Hickey looking quite mad as he looked over the woman on top of him to you guys. Your mouth was opening and closing, nothing coming out of it as you just simply shorted out.

“What the ‘ell.” Hickey yelled, glaring at you two.

“I, uh,” Shay tugged at your arm, slamming the door shut to close off the view. “Oh my God,” you laughed, a hand over your mouth as you doubled over. Shay’s chuckle was much deeper as he pulled you down to where your room actually was. “I did not expect that.” Shay was shaking his head, eyes shining with amusement.

“You shouldn’t expect anything less than that from Hickey, lass.” He laughed, warm hand on your shoulder.

“What about from you?” You questioned boldy, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Aye, you could expect more.” His voice was soft, his hand moving from your shoulder to your cheek gently.

“Then show me.” You challenged.


20. (Connor)

It was too hot, the sheets too uncomfortable against your skin, but you couldn’t move. Not because you were afraid of waking Connor up, but just because you genuinely couldn’t move. He had you wrapped in his two strong arms, one leg thrown over yours, and his head tucked into your neck. Not only that, but he slept like a bear.

“Connor,” you growled, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold. He held on strong, his grip tightening the more you moved. “Dammit, Connor, wake up!” You yelled, flopping around in his arms like a fish out of water. You kept yelling his name, pushing as best you could from inside his embrace, but nothing seemed to be working. “Ratohnhaké:ton,” you screamed, kicking your legs around.

“What?” He questioned, one brown eye peeking open to observe you.

“Move. Over.” You replied, pushing him back.

“Keep still,” he argued, cuddling back into you.

“Connor,” you whined, continuing to move in his embrace. “It’s hot.” This time both eyes opened, his arms holding you even tighter.

“I wish to hold you.” He whispered, a red tint staining his cheeks. That took you by surprise.

“I’m still going to be right here.” You shrugged, watching him curiously. He looked oddly distressed at the thought of having to let you go.

“I know, I just…” he muttered, trailing off when he thought it necessary. You lifted a hot palm to his warm cheeks, a small smile on your lips.

“What’s wrong, Ratohnhaké:ton?” For a second, he didn’t look as if he was going to answer, his eyes flitting down to where your bodies were touching.

“Before I met you, I thought I’d have to be alone. And,” the intensity in his gaze when he looked up was startling, “I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be without you.” Your heart clenched painfully, both arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

“I will never leave you.” You promised, resting your forehead against his. “So long as I walk this Earth, I will always love you, Ratohnhaké:ton.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, head moving up and down with his nod.

“May I please hold you?” He asked, voice light. It may be hot as hell, but you weren’t about to deny him that.

“Always,” you whispered, burying your head into his chest. You could feel his smile as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, the soft pitter-patter of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. Before you drifted off, you heard him speak, tone barely audible.

“I love you, (Y/N).”