CSIS flags Canadian online anti-Islam threat in Public Safety briefing

Canada’s spy agency is eyeing the threat of a budding anti-Islam movement online.

CSIS flagged well-known warnings of the persistent menace posed by terrorist groups al-Qaida, Hezbollah and the more violent and radical Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, or ISIL, say notes obtained through the Access to Information Act.

But under the heading Domestic Extremism, the spy service also underscored what might be the flip side of that coin — the recent development “of a Canadian online anti-Islam movement, similar to ones in Europe.”

CSIS characterized it as an “ongoing risk, particularly as its proponents advocate violence.”

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  • Aries:One two three I declare a war on *flips coin* ENGLAND
  • Taurus:And uh, to celebrate um, the third day this week without rain, WE SHALL FEAST
  • Gemini:Tell the King of Spain to fuck with me because I don't care about his trading policy
  • Cancer:Have a town meeting. I want to hold every newborn baby.
  • Leo:Let's dedicate an entire month to my birthday and get turnt every night. Feast for everyone even peasants!!!
  • Virgo:Shhhhh leave me alone I am planning my next World War
  • Libra:I'd like to meet all of the other monarchs and I need a new dress and let's have a ball tonight!!!!!
  • Scorpio:Everyone in the kingdom wants 2 kill me or fuck me #tru
  • Sagittarius:National Get Shit Faced Day, am I rite???
  • Aquarius:Name all the planets in the solar system after me right now
  • Pisces:I don't want to go to war can everyone please be happy look at how many kitties there are in my palace!!!
On My Command...

aria-lerendeair submitted:

John held out the coin to Sherlock. “You’re going to flip it while I call it. I don’t want you cheating.”

Sherlock frowned. “I would not cheat.”

"To win this you would." John said, daring Sherlock to argue with him. When the detective did nothing but glare at him he grinned. "So flip it."

He spun the coin into the air, caught it in a quick motion and covered it with his hand, looking at John.  “Chose carefully John.”  

John smirked.  “Heads.”  

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.  John was positive in his answer.  Yet there was no way he could have calculated the trajectory with how hard and quickly Sherlock had flipped it.  How did he know.  He lifted his hand and stared at the head on the quarter.  

“Surprised I guessed right?”  John teased.  

“It wasn’t a guess.  You were certain of the answer.”  Sherlock flipped the coin over and frowned.  It was not a double-sided coin.  How had John been certain?

John laughed and took the coin away from Sherlock.  “Sometimes a guess is just a guess Sherlock.”  He licked his lips.  “You know the terms of the bet.”  He ordered softly.  “Strip, in the chair, legs spread on either side.  Hands and arms behind your back.  Move.”  

Sherlock met John’s eyes for a moment and then began to unbutton his shirt, letting it fall off his shoulders, followed by the undershirt, belt, trousers and pants.  The chair in the kitchen had been moved to the center of the living room and he sank into it, spreading his legs.  He dropped his head forward until his chin touched his chest and shifted so he was holding onto his wrists, the muscles of his shoulders straining.  

He was already fully hard and could feel John staring.  John, who had been so certain of winning.  Sherlock closed his eyes and took a slow breath.  

“And just think, you are restrained by nothing other than your own will.”  John purred, walking towards Sherlock.  He removed his socks and peeled the jumper off as well.  He stood behind Sherlock.  “You remember the terms?”  

“You are going to attempt to talk me into orgasm.”  Sherlock said, scowling as he looked up at John.  He rolled his shoulders a little, adjusting his grip.  “You do not get to touch me.  Only words.  My eyes must stay closed.”  

John smirked.  “Yes.  Indeed.”  He waited until Sherlock had done just that and licked his lips.  

Sherlock waited.  It was warm in the flat.  John had insisted on a higher than normal temperature since one of them would be naked.  “John?”  

“Shh.”  John purred into Sherlock’s ear.  “Relax.  I am not going to hurt you.  I am going to make you scream.”  He watched Sherlock shudder and a dribble of precome escape from the tip of his cock.  

“You didn’t think I noticed how much you liked my captain’s voice in Baskerville Sherlock?”  John stepped closer, the edge of iron control still present in his voice.  “You think I didn’t notice all those signs you love pointing out?  Dilated pupils?  Shortness of breath?”  

Sherlock kept his eyes firmly closed.  John.  John.  John.  All around him.  Scent, cheap cologne from the store.  Breathing.  He could hear it.  Feel puffs of hot air against his skin.  His body shivered again and he held onto his wrist tighter, tensing his back to give John a proper view.  

John gave a dark chuckle.  “Oh, very pretty.”  He leaned closer and exhaled into Sherlock’s ear, savoring the hard shiver the dark-haired man gave.  

“Oh get on with it.”  Sherlock grumbled.  He shifted minutely, praying that John would not notice how aroused he was already.  

“Feeling the pressure Sherlock?”  John kept his voice low, gruff.  Sherlock loved it.  He could tell by the shudder that made it’s way down Sherlock’s spine.  “Here I thought I would have to put in some proper effort.”  

John took another moment to take in the sight of Sherlock like this.  He knelt in front of Sherlock and blew air across the tip of his cock, watching every muscle in his body tense, and a short cry escape his throat.  

“No touching!”  Sherlock snarled, keeping his eyes clenched shut.  

John smirked.  “I didn’t touch you.”  He let a hot puff of air hit Sherlock’s inner thigh.  “I love how your thighs quiver when you are like this.  You want to beg, but you are too proud.  But your body, your cock?  They do not lie.”  

Sherlock growled, the air feeling far too hot around him.  He could feel John, every exhale against his thighs now.  

“No matter what your voice says, no matter what that brilliant mind of yours comes up with to hide the truth, when you are stripped bare like this?  Your body does not lie.”  John licked his lips and felt Sherlock’s attention snap towards the sound.  Even with his eyes closed, his senses were perfectly attuned to everything around him.  

John stood up and walked to the side of Sherlock, breathing against his neck.  “Your body and your looks are a weapon.  I love that you wield that weapon with a precision others wish they had.  You know just how to move, how to look.  But it is all calculated.  But like this?  You are desperate.  You want.  You want so much, but cannot bring yourself to ask for it.”  

Sherlock shuddered and struggled to control his breathing, his breath coming in faster and faster pants.  John had to pick this moment to truly observe.  

“You want control to be taken away from you.  You need someone to prove that they are your equal.”  John smirked.  “I did that.  Didn’t I Sherlock?”  

A sound that may have been a whine coming from anyone else escaped his throat.  “John…”  

“The best part about all of this, Sherlock?”  John shifted his position again so he was speaking with only a millimeter between their lips.  “The best part is that you are inches away from orgasm.  But I can’t ask you to come, can I?  That doesn’t work with your special set of rules.”  

Sherlock shuddered.  “J-John…”  

“You have to be ordered.”  John pulled away from Sherlock, watching his body tense, wondering where the next almost-touch would come from.  He knelt in front of Sherlock again, staring at the precome leaking from Sherlock’s cock in awe.  It had to be timed carefully.  He swallowed and leaned in closer, breathing against the tip, his voice hard steel, the kind that would not be disobeyed.  

“Come.  Now.”  

Sherlock’s world went white.

….right. Well THAT happened. <3

[Part 2: A Good Soldier Obeys Orders]

[Part 3: The Prestige]

HOLY FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *EXPLODES!!!!!!!! ~♥



Dangan Ronpa AU where danny went into the portal but the accident mutates half of his body into ghostly, ectoplasmic composition, forcing him to live the following months in excruciating pain until he gets used to it. Because of this, he dips into insanity after his parents chase him out, running away and eventually going crazy with magnified, irrational hatred towards the people in his life (bc of his literal ghost half). He takes everyone who has caused trouble in his life (dash, a-listers, etc) and even friends and family for psychotic reasons (“you will stay with me…”) and locks them up in Casper High where he arranges for them to kill one another as he watches them despair.

A Flip of the Coin

this-simple-mind submitted:

John never knew what shape the flat would be in when he emerged from his room each morning, and that was due solely—as you might imagine—to Sherlock. The possibilities were limitless, and John’s creativity had not yet ballooned sufficiently to anticipate the depth and variety of Sherlock’s methods of transforming their home.

What might greet John from day to day depended entirely upon the insomniac detective’s unpredictable whims. Domestic war zone, with teacups smashed and experiments scattered to the floor in a fit of pique? Elegant concert hall, with Sherlock waltzing his way through in improvised bit of brilliance on the violin? Conspiracy theorist’s den, with stolen files strewn about and photos and newspaper clippings tacked to the walls as Sherlock untangled some impossible web of intrigue?

A flip of the coin. Anything and everything.

He never knew, and in spite of the discomfort and inconvenience and disorder brought about by Sherlock’s nocturnal occupations, John secretly loved it. It was never boring, for one. It brought a beautiful unpredictability to his life, a brightness, that he hadn’t felt since his time under the endless Afghan sky. He’d find himself leaping from bed—sleep dust rubbed hastily from his eyes—restraining himself from racing down the stairs just to see what new scene awaited him, what inventive thing Sherlock had done to pass the time.

It was the greatest shock then, when John’s world was transformed, in the early hours that morning, before he even left the bed. Sherlock hadn’t done anything as egregious as tampering with John’s space—the oft-clueless genius at least understood the dangers inherent in that sort of offense. No, everything was in place. Everything neat and tidy, as it had been when he’d laid down to sleep. It was the addition of Sherlock himself that had thrown John into an alternate universe. The detective wasn’t demanding entrance or jostling him from sleep to pursue some fresh crime scene, he wasn’t seeking attention or begging a morning cuppa, as he was sometimes wont to do.

No. The man was asleep. The man who hardly paused in his frenetic pursuit of stimulation had finally given over to the demands of his body and was asleep.

In John’s bed.

Long limbs curled spider-like around John from behind, gangly things that groped needfully. Warm puffs of breath on his neck, and the disconcerting feeling of a certain rightness to it all. How those sharp elbows and knees could feel comforting, he didn’t know. But they did. They were.

And so John accepted this change to his surroundings as he did all such changes—with grace and amusement—and allowed himself the luxury of snuggling in closer. He stayed that way until the sun rose, buttery sunlight filling the room on this unusually cloudless day.

When he felt Sherlock’s breath hitch as the man resurfaced from slumber, John let a smile overtake his face.

“Good morning, Sherlock.”

Sherlock tensed as he came back to himself, but John’s steady acceptance of this turn of events almost instantly stripped that worry away.

“Good morning, John.”

Pale fingers tested the fabric of John’s shirt, explored the solid warmth underneath. John leaned into the touch, quite content with the shape of this new world.

“I think I like your bed.”

John laughed, pulling Sherlock closer. “Only one thing for it, then.”

Lips brushed along John’s nape, a soft flutter as Sherlock rumbled a deep, questioning hum.

“I suppose you’ll have to stay.” The argument was sound, if simple. Even the lanky madman could see that.

So he did.

Stay, that is.

Sherlock was not a man known for repeat performances, but in this one case, he was very happy to oblige the desires of his flatmate. And so John found himself waking to this same state of affairs the next day and everyday thereafter.

AH!OhMyGosh!!!!! this is so perfect and just fjdkas;fjkdsa;!!! the johnlock is strong in this one :3 ~♥