#[[this man is........opportunistic ....i cant believe this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queenaryastark · 4 years ago

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George RR Martin: dragons are weapons of mass destruction, they're symbols of destruction and not of rebuilding, it's why the targaryens lost their power because their rule was built on fear and when the dragons died it only took a small spark to cause a rebellion, daenerys should read fire and blood so she can learn how not to use dragons daenerys herself: dragons plant no trees, If they are monsters than so am I Yall: i cant read suddenly i dont know

LMAO! I can’t even call that paraphrasing since this jumble of out of context gibberish completely misinterprets GRRM’s words and intent.

First off, no one said dragons weren’t weapons of mass destruction. Them being powerful weapons is pretty obvious. Them being weapons does not erase the violence and cruelty of characters who do not have them. The mass destruction the Starks and Lannisters have wrought against the Riverlands and Westerlands was done without the aid of dragons. So was the mass destruction the Greyjoys and Boltons wrought on the North. The Tyrells were able to commit mass murder by cutting off food supplies, which led to mass starvation, which was their specific intent.

Dragons are dangerous. Obviously. So are people, as George R. R. Martin goes out of his way to tell us in every chapter of his work. The man literally depicts Robb, Stannis, Balon, and Joffrey as equally as violent toward the common people and the land of Westeros. He even gives Dany this metaphoric image of the four of them:

“In one room, a beautiful woman sprawled naked on the floor while four little men crawled over her. They had rattish pointed faces and tiny pink hands, like the servitor who had brought her the glass of shade. One was pumping between her thighs. Another savaged her breasts, worrying at the nipples with his wet red mouth, tearing and chewing.” -- A Clash Of Kings

And that is far from the only time he frames them in an equally negative light given their level of mass destruction.

when the dragons died it only took a small spark to cause a rebellion, daenerys should read fire and blood so she can learn how not to use dragons

You think Dany should read Fire and Blood? I agree. I hope she gets a copy once she arrives to save Westeros from the warlords, opportunistic politicians, and the Others. Though you should probably try to find someone who can read it to you and explain what all the big words mean. If you look in that book, you will see that the Targaryens became extremely popular and loved. They decreased the amount of war and destruction, they streamlined the laws, they established roads, and they removed a couple of the abuses that were the norm. They were far from perfect. But in that imperfection, Dany could learn from them too.

As for a “small spark” causing a rebellion as soon as they didn’t have dragons... *sighs* If you don’t know about a topic, that’s fine. Not everyone can be an expert on every topic. But you Sansa stans (yes I know you’re a Sansa stan and you probably have that hideous image of ST with her trademark vacant expression and that ugly ferret crown as your icon) should actually fact check yourselves before trying and failing to present yourselves as an authority on anything. The last dragon died in 153 AC. The Targaryens were overthrown in 283 AC. Even before 153 AC, the dragons that lived either weren’t under their control, were pretty young, or were deformed. In other words, they continued to rule Westeros without dragons for a significant amount of time. In that time, not only did they rule, but they were able to bring Dorne into the realm peacefully.

Even the wars they had were far fewer than the amount of constant wars that happened while the kingdoms were separate. The Blackfyre Rebellions were sparked by Westerosi racism and xenophobia against the Dornish, as well as the greed and opportunism from the Andal/First Men supporters of the Blackfyre claimant. Notice how in those rebellions the people of Westeros supported either the Targaryens or the Targaryen blooded Blackfyres? No matter which side the lords took, they were supporting a Targaryen because they support that family. Like in real life civil wars, they just supported different members of that same royal line. It wasn’t because they feared them. They wanted their rule. They just wanted the rule of a specific claimant over another based on their own values or what they thought they could gain from a change in Targaryen leadership.

Even with the Baratheon rebellions, they were still Targaryen blooded claimants. With Lyonel Baratheon, he felt his family was insulted when an engagement between the crown prince and his daughter was broken so the prince could marry a peasant. This might seem like a “small spark”, but this would have been considered hugely offensive by the classist nobility. Note how this rebellion was resolved incredibly easily to the point where I don’t even think it warrants being labeled an actual rebellion. It seems more like it was set up for the next Baratheon rebellion since it resulted in that House gaining even more Targaryen blood than it already had. That’s the thing, the nobility wanted their children to marry Targaryens. Doesn’t sound very fearful, does it?

Robert’s Rebellion wasn’t set off by a “small spark”. The kidnapping and rape of the Lord of Winterfell’s daughter and the betrothed of the Lord of Storm’s End is not insignificant. It also didn’t set off the rebellion. The murders of multiple lords and their heirs is also not a small thing. It didn’t set off the rebellion either. What set it off was the combination of those two events with the demand for the executions of the new Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of Storm’s End. Those events taken separately are not small sparks and they certainly aren’t small when put together. It took something HUGE to make a big part of the realm turn on the Targaryens. Even still, the rebels were in the minority since most of the other regions either stayed out of the conflict waiting to see how it played out or stayed loyal to the Targaryens. If Tywin had continued to stay out of the conflict, the Rebellion could have lasted indefinitely with either side winning since the Crown’s forces outnumbered them and occupied the Stormlands.

You also seem to miss the fact that quite a few people in Westeros are still Targaryen Loyalists and want to restore them to the throne. You even miss the fact that Robert, Joffrey, and Tommen’s claim comes from their Targaryen blood.

So no, the Targaryen rule was not based purely on fear. They clearly retained loyalty and love without the benefit of dragons as weapons.

daenerys herself: dragons plant no trees, If they are monsters than so am I

It’s funny how you can try to quote the book while having no understanding of the passage you’re quoting. Here’s the paragraph you’re referring to:

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought.Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?I am the blood of the dragon, she thought.If they are monsters, so am I. -- ADWD

This takes place in Dany’s second chapter of A Dance With Dragons after she has captured and chained two of her dragons and failed to capture the third. Why is she trying to chain them? Because Drogon killed one (1) child. That’s right. Not only is Dany compensating the people for the sheep her dragons were eating. She has no tolerance for them killing innocents. The quote above is not her glorying in the destructive power of the dragons. Nor is she going around without an ounce of guilt for terrorizing, maiming, and murdering innocents the way Robb, Balon, Stannis, Joffrey, Tyrion, Cersei, and every other leader in Westeros does. That is what this passage is PROVING. Seriously, using the “If they are monsters, so am I” quote is proving that Dany has guilt over the life her dragon has taken and that she has taken steps to prevent that from happening again. Compare that to Tyrion’s complete lack of care when it comes to the mass murder his family is causing:

"A lordling down from the Trident, says your father's men burned his keep, raped his wife, and killed all his peasants."

"I believe they call that war." -- Tyrion, ACOK

While Dany is trying to preserve lives, the mass murdering leaders of Westeros see murder and rape as the norm and completely acceptable. Even the noble Robb Stark tried to move the carnage that he and Tywin were inflicting on the Riverlands into the Westerlands and was upset that his plan to do so was partly thwarted by Edmure. His issue wasn’t with the common people suffering and dying. He just wanted the suffering and dying to happen to the common people of the Westerlands (the ones who hadn’t been forced into service as arrow fodder by the Lannisters yet) instead. Yet, you’re trying to use Dany’s guilt at one (1) child being killed by her dragon as proof of...something?

As for Dany not planting trees, yes, she fears that’s something Targaryens can’t do. But the text shows that her ancestors could and did. Dany is also planting trees in ADWD and was in the process of making Vaes Tolorro bloom in ACOK before she was invited to Qarth. The Golden Company (who wants to put her and Aegon on the Iron Throne as a pair) are even upset because they think she’s only interested in planting trees in Meereen.

When analyzing a literary work you have to understand that what the characters fear and the guilt they feel are not signs of their permanent situations. They’re signs of their internal obstacles that will be overcome in their arcs. Dany fears her dragons and fears herself and fears that she won’t be able to achieve peace and positive societal growth. Its good that she fears these things because this shows she acknowledges these issues so they can be overcome. The current Westeros leadership don’t see the issue in their mass murdering, which is an issue all on it’s own.

Its alright if this series is above your comprehension level. There are books out there for you to read that are better suited for your capabilities, like Hop on Pop or Green Eggs and Ham. It’s probably best if you stick to those.

#this is why sansa stans shouldn't have access to keyboards #fandom wank #Anonymous

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kitsune1818 · 3 years ago

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Tossing your question right back at you, I'd love to hear your thoughts on what might have changed (or not changed) if Nie Dad had lived!

Ive been musing this all day, to be honest, i made the mistake of reading it right before getting up. Ooops. Im not as eloquent as you and i have a patchy memory of book canon events, this also touches a lot of hc. I do believe many things would change if dad-Nie had remained alive. As you said in my ask, nmj would be maybe less angry, more forgiving, more easygoing. One hc i have is that he became sect leader young, 15 at most, I also think nmj didnt go to CR to study, by the time he meet lxc he was already sect leader. Making friends was hard, but lwj is not the only stubborn lan. Another general hc i have is that the Nies have... trouble to be seen as equal to other cultivators, regardless of how strong or smart they are, they are not gentry, they are the descendants of a butcher, an unclean profession, so they are less. Maybe with dad-Nie alive nmj would not be forced to grow up so fast, maybe he still will have nice hobbies, maybe he can spent his free time indulging in art or music and maybe nhs would be a little more disciplined in saber practice. I do think nmj is the responsible and dedicated kind of person, having hobbies and friends will not deter him from his rigorous training. I confess im among in the bunch of people that believe he is dage for everyone... or at least of everyone that manages to get close to him. He doesnt baby people, but he indulges them and is very judgemental of their life choices, with dad-Nie alive, he doesnt have to fill the dad-mother-brother roll for nhs, he is just dage, i like to imagine him being a troll and he will be so shamelessly with nhs and his friends (nhs will be all “dage stop embarrasing me infront of my friends!) just because he can and this heirs are all so stuck up with very awful parents. Nmj trust easy, but once that trust is betrayed, well, we all know Jgy never got back that trust and things only got so patched up (skin deep) because of lxc and nmj wanting to believe it even if he didnt felt it. Maybe this time around, as dage had time to be a kid and a teen he can be more innocent, more inclined to second chances. O3r maybe he wont because that is just how he is regardless of his father. Ive seen countless takes of nmj being so much like his father... im a contrary person, i got this mean satisfaction in going against certain things, this is one of them (there is a bigger one, but that one is not relevant haha). I think nmj is more like mom side if the family, nhs is more like his father, both in appearance and temperament. Which may be a little weird to see dad-Nie like nhs considering the broken saber business, but part of me likes to think that nhs saw himself in his father and his eventual madness and that made him not want to have the same fate, forgoing saber training as much as dage let him get away with. I have a lot of thoughts on the saber-master thing the nies have, but this is getting far too long and i feel like im rambling about everything instead of answering the damn question. I imagine dad-Nie being alive means we can have a softer more relaxed nmj, still strong, still dedicated and dutiful (he is an heir, he cant be anything else), he is smart and resourceful, talented. Maybe this is why wrh takes notice of him eventually, maybe this time around nmj can get along with wen xu (another hc is that wen xu is older than nmj, there is a big age gap between wen xu and wen chao), maybe, like with wen zhuliu, nmj gets noticed by talent alone. I believe at some point wwx mentions that nmj is in the top 3 people he wouldnt want to mess with (besides that one part when he slaps nmj corpse abs in a very appreciative way), that kind of speaks of nmj talent and power. I do like the idea of a Qishan Wen and Qinghe Nie alliance a lot. I admit, im very biased, i often tell that other sect leaders are... not ideal. Everyone has their faults, yes, but in the grand scheme of things, jgs is an opportunist, he wont move unless he knows he can win (and he won only because jgy gave him the opportunity... just to be killed soon after), lqr is more of a scholar than a leader, even if he does a neat job managing the sect, lxc is a mediator, if there can be middle ground he will take it and be happy even if he is just postponing the inevitable (we see this in the 3zun dynamics a lot) and jfm is a conformist, he doesnt like conflict and will look away until the fire is too big to do anything about it. Maybe im being to mean, but this is they way i see it, feel free to politely disagree with me). Qishan had the numbers if not the talent, Qinghe had the talent, but not the numbers (another hc, the Nies are the newest of the great 5). An alliance between them sounds like a sweet deal to me. Maybe as you said, an alliance between this two could end up in a mostly everyone lives. Maybe Wen Qing can have a nice friend on Nmj (bonding over little brothers, maybe?) and nhs and Wen Ning can also have a nice friendship, be less lonely. Maybe as nmj grows into a man, wrh interest can shift, maybe this time nmj can allow himself to be a little more free to have something more with someone. Maybe with dad-Nie alive things can go a little happier, maybe dad-Nie will die in some other form and nmj would still be stuck as sect leader at a too young age, maybe this time wrh can be an ally instead of an enemy. Can you imagine it? wrh being friends with the late sect leader (only dad-Nie was bold enough to be honest, instead of giving blind praise and wrh appreciating that?) and offering help to the young heir, a few years later getting struck with the realization that the young boy grew up into a fine man (the “oh shit, he is hot” realization hehe). There are a lot of scenarios i would love to explore, but this is getting long, as my usual ramblings go, i need to cook tomorrow lunch and finish certain piece i need ready by tomorrow (fuck). Hopefully i didnt sidetrack too much, nor did i miss the point. Ugh. See! im not eloquent or well versed!

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talltales · 4 years ago

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—HEY NOW, HEY NOW, DON'T DREAM IT'S OVER HEY NOW, HEY NOW, WHEN THE WORLD COMES IN THEY COME, THEY COME, TO BUILD A WALL BETWEEN US WE KNOW THEY WON'T WIN anonymous request!!

NOTICE: violence (murder, mentions of cannibalism), heavy sexual content

“i just painted my nails.”

blankly, she flicks away the blood trickling down her hand and turns it over to inspect the chipped pink polish peeling off with it. her trigger finger relaxes minutely, but her gun remains aimed at the deathly still men at her feet, staring sightlessly into the cloudless, red sky.

“i didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” the click of the clip being slatted into his own weapon accompanies his droll retort. she glances over her shoulder to find yugyeom leaning against the hood of their car, arms crossed loosely across his chest; dark eyes fixed upon the flow of blood across hot concrete.

before it reaches the tip of her shoes, she sidesteps and moves to rifle through the belongings peeking from their pockets. her gun is slipped into the old leather holster at her hip before she pulls a wallet from the closest man, “i was always that kind of girl. it isn’t my fault you never paid attention.”

she spares her companion a look and then turns back to the worn billfold, tossing the plethora of id cards contained into the summer wind, “looks like he was collecting trophies from his kills.”

“how barbaric.” yugyeom hums, impassive. his nose crinkles, however—offended by the emerging malodor of decay, “they reek. are you ready to go?”

“just a minute.”

the few bills contained within are deposited into her back pocket. discarded identification cards bearing the faces of strangers skitter across the road as she makes work of the other male’s wallet and, for good measure, plucks his half-empty carton of cigarettes from his coat pocket.

“got yours?” he slides off the hood of their old black mustang, slapping a palm against the hot metal before opening the driver side door, “because we need to start making some distance if they’ve got friends.”

“you’re a broken record, you know?”

“i’ll stop repeating myself when you start listening.”

the cool flow of a/c when she gets in is a welcome sensation. there are, after all, few luxuries left in a world that has gone to hell and dragged every survivor with it.

her thumb hovers over the radio dial out of habit, turning it on to catch nothing but muted static.

the radio broadcast had stopped four months ago.

where an endless stream of music and advertisements had once been, there was only white noise; broken only by the occasional snare laid by opportunistic hunters. assuming that there was prey left. at least the ones who would believe the theatric cries for help, transmitting on repeat in the early morning hours.

without the loose guide of societal standards, humanity turned on itself. cannibalized the weak. she hits the off button and releases a heavy breath; sinks into her seat as yugyeom starts the engine. what an ugly place to be—

to be left behind in.

“what is it?” his attention is on the road, intent as he navigates smoothly past the still-warm bodies and the last remnants of their victims, innocent things blowing away in the desert wind, “you’re thinking too much.“

“i know. i’m just wondering how many of those fuckers can possibly be hiding out here. how many people they’ve killed, and for what?” her teeth sink into her lower lip, biting down until the dull ache draws her mind back—to the scent of leather and gunpowder and the droll, knowing look yugyeom gives her, “for useless pieces of plastic? money that can only be spent in camps where they’ll be shot on sight?”

one instinct had survived the dissolution of the world, after all. people knew a wanted man when they saw one.

“you know why.” he hums, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, “i shouldn’t have to remind you.”

“humor me.”

the conversation is an old one, repeated for the sake of soothing what remains of her conscience. stubborn as it is, it comes to life in moments like these; when the adrenaline fades away and she is left with blood caked under her nails and the smell of copper clinging to her skin.

“they kill for the thrill of it.” for her sake, yugyeom answers. the words flow easily, as if he’sreciting a memorized poem; an old story told a time too many. “they enjoy it.”

“i enjoy it.” she confesses, not for the first time. she stretches as the seat allows, arching her back as her fingertips brush the roof; the telltale click of her spine realigning itself brings a fleeting sense of relief. she speaks to the spotted, hazy glass of the sunroof, “i enjoy hunting them and putting them down.”

the blood-red sky is cloudless; speckled only with the brightest starlight breaking through the atmosphere.

“so do i,” he says, and the matter is settled.

again.

—

“so wound up,” she breathes, grazing the curve of his jaw with slow, wet kisses; deft fingers threading through his hair, “i wanted to help,” rolling her hips in a hard grind, she almost chuckles at the way he twitches inside her; the way every muscle in his body seems to tense simultaneously as she darts her tongue out to taste the sweat beading above his collarbone, “but i guess i’m not—should i stop?”

her head spins, body seared by the window beneath her palm and the pressure of the steering wheel digging into the dip of her spine. but it is the ebb and flow of his rhythm that renders her breathless; makes her feel like she’s suffocating the most exquisite way.

she muffles her cries against his throat and centers her attention on the wild skipping of his pulse under her tongue.

yugyeom’s jaw tightens and the next sound that escapes is half-protest, half-groan. she feels the weight of him, pressing into her hips from contrasting directions; his thumbs scoring marks against her skin—his hips canting up to meet hers, languid and deep.

she catches his words after a delayed moment in which her mind stutters to a stop when he brushes a spot inside her that makes her see stars.

“don’t you fucking dare.” it’s quiet, so very quiet, but something in her relishes at the loss of his composure, the rare curse emerging in a growl that tightens the coil inside her. in pursuit of more, she forces herself to stop with him buried as deep as their bodies allow; clenches around him until she can see something in him snap.

it makes it all that much sweeter when he comes apart.

he is, in these moments, the only beautiful sight left in this wretched world.

—

she wears his bruises like trophies, sometimes, lounging in the backseat with her legs folded beneath her and a brush running through her hair.

he watches through the rear-view mirror, as he always does, when she shifts—clad only in a pair of practical briefs and bra. the impression of his hands frame her hips and she takes pleasure in watching his eyes wander before he realizes what he’s doing. because kim yugyeom is always composed, always in control.

except when he isn’t.

and their dalliances are less about attraction than they are about release. she swears on that.

there is a softness to his touch when he isn’t paying attention—in the midnight hours, when their only light is the blue-tinge of headlights cutting through the dark; in the moments before he cuts the engine and his hand slides from the gear-shift to grip hers. “we’re keeping this quick,” he mutters, in a way that is more order than she cares for.

she’s out of the car before he can say anything else, “if they don’t drag it out.”

her sidearm is grasped firmly with her finger hovering over the trigger, her only guide the faint flickering of a campfire in the distance—

the stench of unwashed bodies and smoke.

every step is muffled beneath the howling of the wind and the hush of sand swirling over the earth. hunting is a natural instinct, but stealth is an acquired skill. it is her contribution in their little arrangement, because as graceful as yugyeom is he is impossible to miss.

he follows behind her, well-worn boots crushing the few sprigs of grass that have survived the onslaught of an unforgiving sun. even at this hour, the edge of it lingers on the horizon; an angry crimson-gold.

“you should’ve heard her scream,” comes the distant echoes of laughter from the makeshift camp ahead, beyond the shadow cast by the tents circling the site. they are lit from within by the fire on the other side, revealing silhouettes of figures perched upon folding chairs and the prone half-body beside the fire, “i’d have kept her alive just to hear it again, but a man’s gotta have his dinner.”

it’s an old sight, but it turns her stomach just the same.

her finger itches over the trigger, and she doesn’t have to look back to feel the intent radiating from the man behind her.

two, she holds up the signal and raises her gun while sidestepping into the gap beneath the twin tents. it takes effort to ignore the scavenged woman lying in the dirt; the silver and gold ring on her left hand gleaming in the firelight. someone’s wife.

instead she steels her voice and, assured that yugyeom has his gun trained on the other man, disengages the safety. “on the ground,” it comes out with a hiss; air flowing between teeth gritted so hard she feels it in her jaw.

the sight of the duo scrambling to find her in the darkness is only mildly satisfying. no, the true pleasure only comes when yugyeom fires a warning shot that grazes his target’s cheek, and abject fear takes hold.

“who’s there?” her target. his face is buried in the dirt; amorphous cooked meat beside his head. it takes effort to hold her fire until her boot slams into his spine and the barrel of her gun finds its way into his hair; digs into his scalp.

“you don’t need to concern yourself with that. i’ve got a question for you.”

on the other side of the fire, yugyeom does much the same—nose wrinkling as the man beneath him squirms under his knee; whines incoherently about the gash in his cheek.

“what do you want?”

“you got any buddies out here?” she asks, watching his eyes flicker about wildly, as if searching for an escape. or reinforcements, as the case may be. she secretly hopes for the latter.

“it’s just us,” the man whispers, and she pulls the trigger.

an answering shot rings through the night, and she looks up to see yugyeom wiping blood from his forehead before he walks to the parked pickup truck nearby. he preforms a perfunctory search, pulling a marked map from the glove compartment and a few bills that disappear into the pockets of his jeans.

“quick enough for you?” she questions before she can stop herself, trailing after him with a contemplative look at the container sitting next to the rear tire.

he nods, placid as ever, though she can see the spark of something in his eyes—the promise of another night spent chasing a different sort of satisfaction.

this is, after all, empty work on the best of days.

“the map—“

“for later. to find any stragglers.” she watches as he glances back at the campsite; stares at the blood splattered everywhere. it’s the clenching of his jaw that makes her act upon the persistent urge to act—to reach for the gas container and unscrew the cap.

without a word, she tips it and watches the crystalline liquid soak the ground at her feet. she doesn’t stop until the canister is empty and the site is soaked in the smell of gasoline; each body drenched with it.

he doesn’t stop her.

the only move he makes is toward her, to stand at her side as she fishes a matchbook from her back pocket and strikes it; the flame dances at her fingertip for a moment before she drops it—watches the campfire swell within minutes to a blaze that lights the night sky in shades of gold.

the heat is searing—makes her feel as if she’s burning alive, but for the first time she feels satisfaction with this ugly thing they do.

purification by fire.

only the slide of his fingertips over the back of her hand draws her back; the hesitant way that he laces their fingers together and tugs her back toward the car waiting in the distance. she squeezes, and feels the heaviness in her chest lighten when he returns the gesture.

it has practical purpose; less about affection than it is about comfort.

she swears on that.

“where to next?” for lack of anything better to say, she inquires into the open air, taking her first breath of fresh air.

yugyeom seems to hesitate, and she watches from the corner of her eye as he turns the question over in his mind before he speaks. always thoughtful, always choosing his words carefully.

“i think we’re overdue for a trip home.”

#request #member + prompt #yugyeom fanfic #got7 fanfic

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gayshowerthoughts0 · 4 years ago

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I genuinely think that either my mom is a literal facist or theocratic bitch, either that or she just doesnt understand thw truth of the matter. But either way, i told her that with the mail in ballots it might take them a while to count them and she said that "if they couldnt count them in time then why did they go through with it" and other classics such as "it should be illegal for them to do that, if we (me and her specifically and other commoners i guess) wanted to do that we wouldnt be able to, I dont know if shes under the impression that mail in ballots them selves are just bad, or if they are holding open the door for people who missed the actual election day by still allowing mail in ballots to be turned in after the fact, or if she thinks that counting all of the ballots is bad, or something. I know that last one is true, she's like "it should be illegal for them to still be counting votes after election day has ended" and im like trying to explain but its just sinking in, I'm convinced she thinks that them counting ballots that came in before election day ends after election day and has it confused with them still letting ballots come in.

She also thinks that "stupid people shouldnt vote" but because i was in there spitting facts to the best of my abilities, she also added on "but also smarty pants who think theyre smart but their not smart spiritually"

She said i should vote with my soul and that Kamala Harris was a demon and that joe Biden is a puppet, and I'm sat here like, did this bitch really just say all of that mess, like what does she think a representational democracy should be? I think people like that believe that people should be voted in and perform their duties as they want them to, but only some, like i dont know if they think that Christians are still 99% of the country, but they are fully convinced that if the people want them to do something they should(asterisk) except when its something they particullarly dont like because of "a vocal minority" idk girl.

I wish i would have though of this description back when i was talking with her about it because i fully think she doesnt under stand the whole, "counting votes != letting people cast votes" != means "not equal to" in c# because i couldn't find the right one.

Anyways yeah thats the bullshit trump and his followers are going into this election thinking and going to the supreme court with because hes a joke and an opportunistic monster.

Like if someone hands him a gun, hes gonna shoot it, if someone hands him way more power than a president should have, hes gonna use it, if they give him this election and he wasnt the actual winner, by both the popular vote and the electoral vote, then yeah, hes gonna take it, and presumably keep taking for as long as hes alive.

Alex Jones: hey mr. President i just wanna say big fan,

Trump, now fully focused on the con man before him: thank you, you seem very nice.

Alex Jones: aw thanks mr. President sir, i just thinking, gays got too many rights these days, i dont think they should be getting married, and the bible says it so my hands are tied even if I didnt want to because my agents told me not to say it but I'm being brave and speaking my truth while being legally vague enough to not illicit any cancellations, but anyways Mr president ive been thinking, we should put em in a camp somewhere, just go through the streets and gather em up, and take them to this camp, maybe we try to make them the gay intended and make em straight, if they cannot be cured of this sin, then lets just oh idk, maybe shoot em or, put em in some kind a rooms and full those rooms with poison, or maybe just work them till they stop being gay, and if they cant stop being gay well theyre gonna keep on working.

Trump: you know what, you called me Mr. President which a lot of people dont do but they all do because I'm the president they have to love me, and I have no idea who you are but i gotta say im already a huge fan and since you like me you must know what your talking about, lets do it. "AMY, GORSICH, KAVANAUGH"

All three: yes sir Mr. President sir.

Trump: is it illegal to do what ever the heck that guy just said?

Amy: well i certainly dont think they should be married, its just not right for my actual marriage to be compared with some kinda tax fraud scam because gay people arent real they just do it for tax benefits.

Gosich: yeah i was hit in by one of those things, then i turned around cause I was scared he was gonna diddle me, and screamed and ran away, it's disgusting, and wrong, and dont get me wrong, i have gay friends, i just dont think they should be allowed to exist, and I'm only saying that because the bible says and so i cant not agree with it, even though i already agreed with it, but the bible says so I couldnt even if i wanted to which i dont, but I'm not a bad person i promise.

Kavanaugh: ADAM AND EVE NOT ADAM AND STEVE, HASTHAG THINGS DONT GO UP YOUR BUT IT HAS THE CONSITENCY OF TOILET PAPER AND WILL BE RUINED BY ANTHING GOING UP THERE, I HATE THAT THEY GET TO BE TOGETHER AND BE IN A HAPPY LOVING RELATIONSHIP AND CALL IT MARRIAGE, MARRIAGE IS SUPPOSED TO BE BETWEEN A MAN AND THE WOMAN HE GOT PREGNANT IN HIGHSCHOOL AND HATE EACHOTHER, AND NEVER MIND ABORTION, DID YOU KNOW THAT GAY GUYS DO GET PREGNANT BUT THEY ABORT IT BEFORE IT CAN BE BORN, HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A BUTT BABY BEFORE? EXACTLY!

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hvnaa · 5 years ago

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ʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ. finding moments of privacy can be rare here, no shortage of tasks ( his services weren’t bought for him to sit around ) and jobs for him to do. in some ways he can be thankful for being assigned to one place for so long. the turbulence of his job can be overwhelming. here, working for this man, he knows what to expect day to day. it is not easy, sure. it can be violent as ever. but he doesn’t have to guess at what sort of blood he might have to spill. doesn’t have to relive the deaths of others over and over. it shouldn’t be a relief to work for a criminal. but it is.

even with all of that it can be grueling. collecting debts and interrogation are what he detests the most. no matter where he goes or who he works for it always seems to come down to this: torture. it’s what he’s good at, isn’t it? he knows just how to hurt people, how to tear them apart physically, emotionally and mentally all in one. but to know that he has to know them, understand them in a way only possible when you’re inside their head. when you know what it’s like to be them…when you have become them, it’s difficult to be apathetic.

he got the job done. he always does. he has no choice. but it’s worn him down. he sits in silence in some room he wandered into, forearms resting on his knees. he can feel the man inside his head still. can feel every fucking hope and dream he ever had. every heartbreak and pain. the terror emil caused him…he doesn’t try to stop the tears on his cheeks. he never does. he rarely lets anyone here see it, however. it’s not exactly the environment for it which is why he had found somewhere quiet and private.

or at least it was that way until he hears someone stirring in a doorway. head lifts and emil blinks a few times before his gaze focuses on hana. long inhale is drawn in as he sits up. the boss’s daughter probably isn’t the worst person to find him right now. if it were up to him he wouldn’t have to see any of them for some time. he doesn’t want to have to see anyone. it isn’t this job, not when it’s no where near as horrible as many others are. it’s having to do these jobs in general. he doesn’t want extraction from this assignment he just wants…extraction from it all. but he doesn’t belong to himself. emil steels himself before speaking, weariness still in his voice “ what do you need me to do? ” @futuresees

it seemed every time that she was home there was a new face, whether it was one she would see again the moment she wondered out and away from the property or not varied depending on what in the world her father was dabbling into at the respective moment. she rested her shoulder into the ebony wood of the archway into the room, poise had its time and place when she felt like it, but right now she slouched slightly because she was curious, one valentino harness boot crossing over the other to rest toe on the same dark wood floor as the beam she leaned herself into.

there was a moment of silence where hana swept her eyes over the man, noting a few things; she had never not been observant it was only a matter of what she chose to do with her observance and the mood she was in. hana wasn’t feeling very opportunist today, so while she gathered and noted a mixture of emotions fleeting through the man’s posture and expression, she released every note that touched her too.

the question had her canting her head, only a few seconds she had stood here in silence; he seemed readily available to her for...something, it seemed, considering the question he so quickly posed to her, and that interested her, piqued her curiosity more. “i’m...not sure, what do you do?” she asks, a small arch of her brow, hana gave a polite and small smile, merely pointing out in fewer words that he didn’t seem to be hired help for the estate such as a gardener or housekeeping her mother hired on, not because she actually needed the help but because nicola enjoyed interaction and conversing, the company. did her mother finally decide to be a mistress and send wolfe downstream?

she’s not genuinely asking that question because she does know better, and it’s thoughts floating in space really as she pushed her shoulder off of the framing to move to an upholstered arm chair in the room, only to sink down into it with her legs resting over one arm. she sat so that she could still see him but she wasn’t directly staring. “the front door is unlocked, can’t you make a break for it?” she jests lightly, still a softness in her tone, a genuine glance. she didn’t like being here longer than she felt like being so she amused herself believing that everyone who visited must feel the same way; walls were suffocating. now a serious question. “dare i ask what you think you’re here for?” is she prying into what her father is playing with these days? most definitely, and shamelessly really.

#futuresees;;emil

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hogsteeth-archive · 6 years ago

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alright then i answered one of them oc questions things for both versions of ira bc like. why wouldnt i. first answer is 1976 58y/o rhodesian ira, second answer is 201x 16y/o houstonian ira. i just wanted to figure out how different they really are. questions from here. if readmores still dont work on mobile im sorry lmao

what are some things they have strong opinions about?

he has sort of a cioranian attitude to the value of life, like, hes one of them “theres always reason to kill a man, theres no way to justify his living” types. he doesnt believe in nationalism per se but he does believe in war, hes literally a mercenary, and hed probably get along just fine with someone like mike hoare, but hes not one for unnecessary cruelty. hes kind to who he considers innocent. if he was alive today i can see him getting grouped w/ like, anti-natalists, right-wing “primitivists,” people who browse /fo/, people who think theyll thrive in the post-apocalypse even though they cant even spin yarn, people who dont understand fallout, you know, those types, but i like to think his attitude wrt civ is closer to perlmans or, well, mine. its a good thing he doesnt live in internet times. he thinks technology makes people complacent and weak and hes fallen into the trap of the “noble savage” myth; sign of the times. he could just as easily live off the grid in like, alberta, but he chose to stay in southern africa bc of his colonial attitudes & fetishization of the “less developed.” (sidenote, if youre like, new here n reading this for some reason, yea i write like really really bad characters were talking irredeemably evil here, just like, know that im aware of that.) also he detests hippies for both bad and good reasons ⸻ not much, really, hes an opportunist, a hedonist, hes selfish, goes w/ the flow. he thinks denying yourself pleasure for no reason is microfascism — not in those words — and while he doesnt think that selfishness leads to a bettering of overall society, hes no randian, he feels justified in what he does. hes uh, a mercenary in spirit and ive always intended to have him join the marines n later work for a pmc but were nowhere near there yet

what traits do they like in other people? what traits do they not like?

he likes people (men, that is) that are exactly like him. he likes Narrator bc hes just as quiet, as patient, as stubborn, as antisocial (using that the right way here, i like, know about psychology), as violent, as old-timey-ly masculine as he is. he can tolerate clade (his former accountant) bc she keeps to herself and shes loyal to a fault, but he doesnt go out of his way to like, actually talk to her. he likes will bc he reminds him of what he was like as a child living with his matabele mother. ⸻ he hates everything he perceives as weakness, but hes not all that open about that, i think hes not even 100% aware thats what it is. he needs to be talked back to. he lacks compassion, doesnt know how to deal w/ anyone whos less resilient and abrasive than himself.

do they have a significant other? if so, who?

i mean, theres Narrator — thats kinda what this whole thing is about. but theyll never think of each other that way. its complicated. theyre uh… closer to being marlow and kurtz than to being boyfriends. idk how to explain it. its bad. ⸻ hes fake-dating millah for appearances and secretly seeing jack, im not sure about the details either so im not getting into that, but hes eventually gonna meet will; ive written their first encounter like ten different ways and i still dont really know what i wanna do w/ them........ also Complicated

whats their friend group like? what role do they play (leader, mom friend, etc.)?

he lives in a hut he built w/ his bare hands on the edge of the kalahari. his friends are one horse and one vaalboskat. ⸻ he uses his friends but they use him too. hes reasonably popular bc hes athletic n wealthy, but i think the only one of his friends who really truly sees thru his act is millah, and bc he doesnt take her seriously as a threat, she has more control over him than he realizes.

do they care about their physical appearance? whats their routine like?

nah ⸻ not really. he showers too often and his hairs kinda dry but other than that hes like. Normal. idk i dont care about these things

do they have any physical or mental disabilities?

i dont think so ⸻ he has adhd

what would they die for? kill for?

oh hes not picky. he joined the military at 17, hes made peace w/ the prospect of dying. hes been more uncomfortable w/ the thought of growing old, actually. and again, hes literally a mercenary. not a big deal to him. ⸻ i dont think hes selfless enough to die for anyone. hed kill to protect the people he cares about, but thats more just bc hes possessive. im sure thats gonna come up eventually. i cant really write shit w/o weaving murder in somewhere.

do they have any magical powers or abilities? if its a realistic world, what religion do they follow?

absolutely the fuck not i hate magic. hes not religious, actually feels a little intimidated by religion. in one version of his story he spends his 50s on east nusa tenggara where he doesnt live far from a church, and he makes peace w/ the concept of god thanks to the influence of catholic-raised Narrator, but i doubt hell ever actually step foot into a church, or temple, or mosque, or what-have-you. hes internalized some things during his upbringing though that he doesnt classify as religious. little superstitions. he likes to keep objects that may be used for divination around his house, but he never touches them. ⸻ not religious, but if he had to pick, like to pretend, hed say baptist.

do they celebrate any holidays? how do they celebrate?

nah ⸻ like, the regular american ones. hell welcome any excuse to drink and to socialize, and id say his favorite holiday is the 4th of july, really just bc he likes warm weather and theres not a lot else you can celebrate in the middle of summer. hes not attached to the significance of any holidays. hes not crazy about christmas but he likes his family well enough and hell go along w/ it all, just to have sth to do. hes not good w/ time off.

if they were the protagonist in any book series, what series would they choose? alternatively: what would be their favorite book?

he doesnt really read but hed feel right at home inside heart of darkness or maybe the thin red line. or maybe sth by mccarthy ⸻ hes 16 he hasnt read jack shit. i wanna say deleuze would probably resonate w/ him bc hes a total self-insert but i really dont know. i try to keep the intertextuality way low bc i hate that shit in most fiction, so like, i try not to think too much about other books here

do they have any vices?

uh he drinks and he occasionally smokes opium but compared to most of my characters hes pretty okay wrt that ⸻ yea like… all of them. already said hes a hedonist make of that what u will

do they play any instruments?

nope ⸻ violin but he hasnt been practicing a lot lately

what would their favorite ride at an amusement park be?

hes never been to one ⸻ i feel like hed be into sth really lame… like you know that video by jenny nicholson, top ten lame things to do at disney world? sth like that. like hed go just to get a specific food item or to admire the infrastructure

what animal would they say best represents them?

hyena 100%. the spotted kind. id say tortoise also but hed find that insulting ⸻ id say hyena but hed be reluctant to answer that bc hes a Youth and he knows what a furry is

how do they act when theyre drunk?

vulnerable. little more talkative. he talks to himself (or the cat, rather) sometimes ⸻ more abrasive/tactless/impulsive. he talks w/ his whole body and feels like moving/running bc, again, self-insert

which era of history would they most like to live in?

the old west, like early to mid-19th century, maybe late 18th. that or like the really olden days, like mid-paleolithic ⸻ idk maybe like ten or twenty years earlier. i think he fits the 21st century pretty well. hes a curious person though and if he had a time machine hed go Everywhere at least once

whats their favorite food?

ah thats. complicated actually i have a whole list of foods that remind me of Narrator but ive never gotten around to making one for ira. hm. he likes poultry, like ostrich. white fish. dry/salty foods. sour fruit. breadfruit. fatty dark meats, blood sausage. hes not picky though, hell live on pap and water if he has to. ⸻ i genuinely dont know. im not used to the contemporary western setting yet like… pop tarts exist in the same world as he does and im not comfortable w/ that yet. like, branded food articles wrapped in plastic. thats so weird to me. i guess he likes (american) pizza w/ greens on it, like spinach? and seafood. sour candies, maybe, i dont think he has much of a sweet tooth. he puts salt n butter on potatoes and cottage cheese on pancakes.

what songs remind you of them?

conveniently theres a whole playlist rite here

whats their favorite season and why?

dry season. he doesnt like cloudy/foggy weather bc it makes him feel trapped when he cant see as far. ⸻ summer. i honest to god think people liking cold weather is a conspiracy like im not sure thats even biologically possible. like summer is the obvious answer here

which d&d class would they play as?

nah we dont do nerd shit round these parts

whats their favorite expletive?

he like, barely talks ⸻ nothin weird thats for sure, we campaign for simple straight-forward language in this house. having a Favorite is inherently at odds w/ that. bad question

whats their favorite candle scent?

no scented candles in the desert ⸻ sth fruity but not sweet, like mixed berries, sth red or purple

how do they feel about death?

he doesnt ⸻ hed feel cheated by life if he died young. he has a lot to see and do and itd like, bum him out not to get to do that but hes not afraid of death

do they collect anything? whats their most prized possession?

he lives pretty austerely but he does keep little rocks and gems and bones and pieces of wood n such. also coins from all the countries hes been to bc hes a simple old man. i wanna say his most prized possession is his hogs tooth bc he does value the marines a lot still. its where he first met Narrator :-) ⸻ he really appreciates gifts people give him, things that remind him of people. jack carved him an eagle once

do they play any sports?

no ⸻ nothing too organized. i dont think hes on any school teams bc idk if he has the time but that might change. he does run/hunt/fish/shoot

what one place do they really want to visit and why?

he likes deserts, wide open spaces. hes been to the kalahari n namib but not the gobi/sahara/simpson etc, so, those. no ice deserts though those scare him ⸻ polynesia/southeast asia, just tropical places in general. bc theyre nice what do you want me to tell you. tropics good

what languages do they speak?

northern ndebele, afrikaans, english (w/ various influences), some vietnamese ⸻ english, some cajun french, some spanish

what are some items they always carry? what weapon do they favor using if they exist in a world where weapons are necessary?

hes got his fal obviously and he does always carry a knife, just to be safe. more out of habit than actual necessity (not to imply rural areas were safe in the late 70s, but he lives in the literal wilderness, hes not much of a target. stays away from roads and all that.) ⸻ man hes really not as classy as i want him to be :/ he probably has like, a glock 17 w/ ten thousand pointless modifications n some uglyass stipling pattern. hes a little bit paranoid + irresponsible n carries all kinds of shit he doesnt need, mostly way too much cash

which emoji would they use the most?

no ⸻ he doesnt have a phone, hell maybe use a burner if he has to. this is an anti-phone household

what fantasy race would they be? if they already are one, pick a different one.

absolutely not

do they want to start a family? if they already have one, describe it.

no ⸻ no

what stereotypical high school clique would they fit into?

hed swing between the jrotc kids n the stoners honestly, but still mostly keep to himself ⸻ hes like, too much of a jock for the Delinquents, too much of a Delinquent for the jocks. hes really only popular bc hes rich-ish n blessed w/ good looks, and by association w/ millah

whats one thing that they dont need do they waste the most money on?

he doesnt ⸻ everything. hes really wasteful. he buys more food than he can eat, clothes he never wears, etc etc, hes terrible

what kind of shoes do they wear?

combat boots or just traditional sandals. the terrain around his house is mostly grass and flat boulders so he goes barefoot a lot ⸻ regular tennis shoes, nothin too fashionable bc he cant be bothered to keep up w/ trends, but usually clean n new. hiking boots when hes not w/ his regular friend group

do they believe in ghosts, aliens, and the occult in general?

really dont like how aliens are always grouped in w/ esoteric shit bc like, thats like asking if you believe in atoms honestly. no shit “aliens” exist thats like not up for debate. both iræ would agree w/ me here. 70s ira doesnt believe in like, Ghosts per se, but he has some vague concept of spirits that he got from his mother. he sees/feels them when hes half asleep. ⸻ 2010s ira doesnt believe in jack shit

which deadly sin do they most correspond to? which heavenly virtue?

nooo cardinal sins dont work that way theyre not hogwarts houses. its so much more complicated than that thats impossible

if you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, what would it be?

hmmm four of swords? knight of coins? eight of cups? this is hard ⸻ seven of swords? nine of cups? the devil? i dont know

what do they consider to be their best quality? what actually is their best quality?

his strength, which is really just his callousness and lack of convictions. and uh. i guess his independence ⸻ same here for the first part. and. maybe his loyalty? i dont consider loyalty a good thing personally idk

what do they consider to be their worst quality? what actually is their worst quality?

his lack of social skills maybe? he doesnt need them too often of course but like, the first time Narrator showed up at his doorstep he was genuinely nervous and that did fill him w/ some semblance of shame and in his eyes he should be good at everything, so like. that. really its his lack of conviction and his timidness/avoidance of the world ⸻ his dependence on others/lack of discipline. really its his lack of compassion, like, obviously

#ira #ricky pwease come online

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myvoicenottheoneyougiveme · 4 years ago

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I need to keep a tally of the number of times a day you veer left and right to hold up your teetering house of cards.

But if I speak up once a week right here... I’m suddenly, actually the one exerting monumental force in a colossal effort to rewrite reality as it stands. As though that’s not “this” (your game) every second of every day, day in and day out multiple times a day, over and over and over and over and over and over again.

A never ending tumble. Something you CANT leave alone. Someone you can’t leave alone. A reflection you can’t leave alone. A source and a dumpster. A scapegoat for you to use to aggrandize yourself and your victimhood.

You’ll excuse me if I read absolutely zero sincerity coming from someone just trying to get me to bend over and take “this”. You’ll excuse me if your actions speak louder than your words. You’ll excuse me if I read your attempts as nothing more than ploys to regain leverage on me. You mean what you say for five seconds before you don’t immediately get the reactions you want. When you “give” the way you always did, it is “instrumental”. You’re out to get a payoff. You don’t mean anything. You just want to “get”. Control, attention, affection, dominance over your source of supply and a reinforcement of the channel into which you dump everything in your reflection you want to distance yourself from.

You saw me “taking an interest” in a character I haven’t gotten to know at all, who has the same appeal as any character in her vein, perhaps even more so than the one she’s contrasted with. You then made a play with the feed. It was far too subtle, but there were a few stops there. All I saw was someone teeing me up for what came next. Rather than a genuine admission of fault or a sign of accountability (LOL) by the nebulous and insincere being behind “this”, you were opportunistically trying to capitalize on an opening, and you didn’t get the reaction you wanted.

The only way for you to deal with that fact, the only way for you to ever deal with rejection or invalidation is to make me into something or someone less than human. It was too subtle, in the first place, if you ask me. But it’s not like the door was exactly open to you all things considered. But the vibe, the pattern was illuminated by contrast with what came next. So, now that you’ve made some great display for 5 seconds as being the one who gets on their knees and “gives” and makes concessions and isn’t actually the taker/trampler in “this” picture--OH BABY FORGIVE ME, [keeps scrolling]--now you have a foothold or solid ground from which to launch your next move. Cause I clicked and SAVED that picture.

Rejecting the “sincere” (wink wink) attempts to.... well do what exactly? Isn’t that where the wheels fall off? Actions, louder than words. But in the reality where you’ve made some kind of bullshit-sorry scratch-heartfelt plea, the person that denies you has to no right to, is that what you’re telling me? No one has a right to say “no” to you, is that what you’re telling me? OH, but you slithered into the ether behind the screen and donned the caricature; you GIVE so much...

The person that means anything they give, is the one capable of taking “no” for an answer. What is truly selfless is given without thought of reward. What is truly meant, is meant regardless of the response you get. How many times? How many times when you would disappoint or reject or say “not now”, did I ever meltdown and call you names?

The one that stands out to me the most? What I was meant to believe was some kind of genuine moment of connection, like so many before it. How many times? I remember this time because it was the first time I’d heard that group in years. “Come on come on... I’m taking you home. No one, no one belongs here more than you.”

AWW, NO THATS OK

Oh. Well, then I guess I’ll, see you tomorrow?

But I digress... by virtue of the fact that you made a momentary selfie of a display, you could now say that the fact that I saw that and didn’t return an affection in kind... Oh, what a taker I am. Oh, how I just squeeze the life out of you. Oh, feed me feed me. Make me feel wonderful. Lift me up.

DA KING

Like I received it at all in the first place, or like it makes me feel any kind of anything when it’s coming from someone as disingenuous as you. Oh, but it was given, and I saw it and I... I what? Rejected it? No no no, you, you downloaded that picture GRRRR. Ya, I downloaded a piece of fan art off the internet. And from this piece, you can extrapolate an entire new me, an entire straw man against which you can cast yourself in contrast. You’re gonna tell me what things are, tell me what I think about them, tell me what they mean to me, tell me who I am. Which makes you, what? That’s right. And I don’t even mean the implied meaning of that sentence there, where you’re head is so big, you know me better than I know myself. I mean precisely what I’ve been describing. You tell me, you shout it from the rooftops and on the hillsides before the whole world, and that makes you.... NOT that. Not whatever you are pointing and screaming about me. You get to be NOT the thing you paint me as when you paint me as that.

Make me one thing, makes you another thing.

That’s my whole point. “This” can never end. What you get out of “this”, is myriad, but it’s simply allowing you to bolster a reflection about yourself at someone else’s expense. Your colossal never-ending exertion day in and day out every moment of every day, every chance you get multiple times a day.... SERIOUSLY, if I’m such an awful evil terrible person, WHY would you seek to POSSESS me? Oh, well, I just, it’s just my tragic flaw. Oh, I’m such a victim, I can’t help being drawn to destructive men. Oh, everyone see, see, I’m so helplessly enamored with this guy that rejects me and tells me how awful I am and all these terrible terrible lies. Oh me oh my. Feel sorry for me, everyone.

“This” can go in so many directions but every single one, is where you get to play the victim. For every turn there’s a reversal, and we need only NEVER look at how the rules the rest of us live by don’t apply to you. We need not ever look at what YOU are doing to me. No no no. We can’t have that. Then you’re naming me the very same person that’s in your mirror as you’re being that person.

You do “this” to me. You stalk me. You harass me. You wage a colossal effort with so many moving parts... to? To what? OH, I’m just protecting myself. I’m just holding YOU, that’s right, YOU accountable. I’m sorry, are we in a “relationship”? Are we anything? No, but but ...Ok, all you do is scream and point fingers endlessly, day in and day out. You live to lift yourself up on that throne of lies and to rope in as many people as you possibly can. You sure you don’t need “this”? You sure you don’t need to feel powerful and in control? Who is “this” for? Who? You are constantly scratching and clawing and trying to get attention back on yourself and to create openings and to improvise anything and everything you can to empower yourself and to justify yourself and to give you license to be GOD on earth... for WHAT? For WHO?

Every second you have access to me is another second you can spend flailing around on the ground like someone having a seizure at the scene of a car crash. (This is a joke people say sometimes, “I’ll practice my twitching and drooling”.) EVERYONE EVERYONE PAY ATTENTION TO YOU. Oh, oh oh, how awful. Oh, my, what has he done this time my dear? She drove headlong fullspeed into the side of my... SHUTUP NOBODY ASKED YOU, we were asking HER.

I mean you could make a rear-end collision somehow the driver-in-front-of-you’s fault. And what’s worse? I’m somehow obligated to you. I owe you, someone I’ve said “no” to. I’m not moving. I’m not moving. I’m not opening the door. I want nothing to do with you. I’m not trapping you making your life a prison or trying to squeeze a damned thing out of you as I say it either. I’m simply DONE. So, when you get a running start and break your poor wittle neck diving head first into a closed door? Oh, that’s just MORE PROOF. MORE PROOF. See, look what he’s done to our princess! See, her broken body!

This rant brought to you by, a singular instance of worn patience and/or a chosen battle. But if I speak up at all, suddenly I’m doing everything you’re doing to me every second of every day, day in and day out.

I have to be the parts of your reflection you don’t want. I have to be guilty of the things you’re actually responsible for and then some, so you never have to hold yourself accountable. It’s a power trip. It’s a damned ego trip.

The moment I, I exert any effort in trying to pry you, PSYCHO, off of my neck, I’m suddenly to blame for everything that’s actually... you. As though you weren’t doing any of these things. You, by virtue of being the one shouting the longest and the loudest and the most often, you take all attention off of your insecurities and put them on your scapegoat. You get all the attention you want and none that you don’t. But it’s yourself you’re hiding from. You get to feel like someone else. You get to feel like the victim.

To rewrite reality, to hide from your own reflection, requires and CONSTANT never-ending stream of mirroring. To maintain your self-regard and protect yourself from your own insecurities, you mount a colossal effort to never EVER face up to what you don’t want to face up to. Just the act of attacking me whether you get anything from me or not, cause it’s all the time, all the time, never stops. Everywhere all the time. Just the act of attacking me is solidifying your reflection. It doesn’t matter if it never pans out. It doesn’t matter if it’s never true. It doesn’t matter. You are playing a never-ending perpetual-motion game of hopscotch when the floor in the cracks is lava. It’s a race to outrun what you can’t ever actually finally outrun for good, yourself.

You have to fight and scratch and claw and live and breathe “This” game you play on my life, because it’s how you regulate yourself and your own emotional states. “This” house of cards WILL blow over without a constant never ending input from you and those you conscript. It’s both outside in the reflections you get, but it’s inside more than anything.

I don’t need to know you or what you’re thinking, to see and know what you’re doing. It’s a frantic desperate, never-ending effort of such massive proportions to, in lieu of squeezing me for all the time and attention you can get, making me something you can set yourself in contrast with. ...All day, every day, it’s the same thing, over and over and over and over again. Possess, own, dominate, control, coerce, extort, manipulate... scratch and claw and beat down and... I reject you. I deny you. I said “no” to you. I said, “get help” and we’ll come back at another time. We have to work on ourselves. We can’t do “this”. You didn’t take “no” for an answer. You escalated.

But I’m really not convinced, “this” ever amounted to anything in reality. But still, even if I suspend my disbelief for a moment... you didn’t take “no” for an answer. And every rejection, every sting of invalidating rejection, puts you into a position you can’t be in, face to face with all of your insecurities and all of the things that have ever gone wrong for you in relationships that you CANT bear any responsibility in. The more I don’t budge, the more the wall pushes back, the more adamant I’ve been forced to become, the more I’ve attempted then to hold up a mirror to your psycho behavior because you WONT FUCKING STOP, then the more you have to HAVE TO make me into some kind of villain. What other choice do you have? Sink into all of your self-loathing despair? Come face to face with all of your negative self-talk and all the ways you actually blame yourself? But it’s all or nothing. It’s always all or nothing. It’s always 1 or 0. One of us is everything wrong with the world (not because either of us necessarily actually is), and it sure as hell isn’t going to be you. That’s the zero sum game you’re playing with yourself. There is hatred and loathing and blame blame blame, and SOMEONE has to bear it.

It’s the conversation between Max Caulfield and Chloe Price. Someone HAS TO BE RESPONSIBLE, HAS TO BE TO BLAME, because otherwise it’s her fault. That’s completely between her and herself. That’s not coming from anyone but herself. That absolutely ZERO SUM game. ...Trauma.

I don’t care if you’re a narcissist or anything. I only care that you’re abusive, and that I can’t stand you. Someone has to be the sacrifice for everything wrong in your YOUR world because of this false choice. What you get out of “this” in lieu of “supposedly” an interest in ME of all people, is a scapegoat for what otherwise is eating you alive every second of every day.

Direct it at me then, that’s what happens. Direct it at me then. Let your rage and hatred and anger and toxic caustic bile that’s destroying you, instead destroy me. Because it’s bubbling up every second of every day, you’re bubbling up passing it all on directly to me. “This” monumental effort to install a new reality, to hold up a house of cards, every second of every day, unrelenting, without end. Put it on me, force it down my throat, cast yourself as the victim and everything right with “this” picture. Gaslight me. Triangulate everyone within reach.

Everything, everything. And you sleep around, but I’m an awful sleazy horny piece of shit. Cause you can’t be a whore. You name it, if it’s a part of you and it makes you feel badly (whether warranted or not), I have to be it. Stalker names STALKER. Stalker director of “this” show names, BAD TRAMPLER OF BOUNDARIES. BEWARE everyone, don’t give him the wrong idea, you won’t be rid of him. You, you, you say this. You the person doing “this” says this. But that’s why you refer so frequently. Because that’s your reflection every second of every day.

I am the means, the vehicle to you managing your reflection. When you’re feeling any kind of way, you regulate it through me. You will have your way with me. You will get whatever you want from me, and you will not be denied. And you will not be held responsible for your own actions, and you will not be told no, and you will not be told that what you’re doing is wrong, and you will not be held accountable for the harm you knowingly inflict. What you get is as myriad as what your aim is at any given relative moment, but the pattern is simple...

You want love and affection and attention the same as anyone else, and you have deep wounds that torment you. The first is an attempt to medicate the second. Whether from failure at the first or skipping straight to the second, it all HAS TO BE REGULATED through SOMEONE. Something, someone outside of yourself. Whether that’s gathering as many people as possible to yourself at any given moment and wielding power that way over your reflection or scapegoating me. There are simply things in the reflection you get from me that you CANT deal with. Whether that’s rejection or calling you out for being abusive and daring to put a label on it as if it needed it.

Every second of every day, you are attempting to right the ship. Every second of every day is an attempt to reverse reality, whatever part of it is making you feel especially insecure and down on yourself at any given moment. All of “this” is to get out of me what you NEED to soothe and regulate yourself at any given moment. In lieu of getting a one-sided one-way street kind of relationship where you are bathed in love and affection as though I were your parent and you not obligated to behave like a human being or maintain any semblance whatsoever of a balanced reciprocal ANYTHING (relationship?! LOL), you put on me the darkness you then otherwise feel between you and yourself.

Zero-sum. False choice. You the evil awful terrible object that is everything wrong with the world because that’s the infantile state you would be otherwise reduced to. Instead of being to blame for being rejected, harmed, invalidated, neglected, instead of being the object of your own rage, you place me there.

There are many stories, I want to finally finish. Life is Strange being one of them. But I’m never going to forget that bit from that conversation. About half-way through, in the truck, friend trying to talk sense into her. Blaming everyone, blaming the whole world, putting all on everyone else... why? Because the only alternative was to feel that toward herself.

Trauma. Zero-sum. And that was your chosen representation/character and point of identification.

You don’t have to have a fancy psychological label to be doing this. People are so much more complicated than that. And there’s a long gradient between fully self-aware and just being completely reactive chaos playing out a pathological pattern. The difference between you and your partner in crime (literally) is marked, always was.

But you are torturing me. You are killing me. You have been for years.

Zero-sum.

The lengths you go to, it’s zero-sum. Not because it is, but because that’s how you experience it. Because the pain and the trauma you carry necessitates it, “this” is how you cope.

0 notes

prodigil · 4 years ago

Note

After Ruby, would Sam ever believe a demon could reform?

yes.

it would... take a lot though.

i want to give some examples. meg is someone that sam could learn to trust. it really is dependent on the demon in question. meg sam could learn to trust because he would understand her as a person, her character, which is not necessarily a ‘good demon’--shes not that, shes basically the reason john died--but a being that exemplifies a certain set of values and ideas, a being who opposes controlling, imperialistic systems. a bastion of chaos in the exact same way castiel is, only meg is rallying against the bonds of hell, and castiel against heaven.

sam could see this in her, despite their shared past, and come to believe that if cas trusts her, then he can trust her. sam doesn’t believe your species should dictate who you are as a person, and it is a courtesy he does his utmost to extend to demons.

another example would be crowley--but almost exclusively s8 / post s8 crowley. crowley before the trials, i believe, self describes himself as a craven self-serving opportunist. he uses whomever, to acquire whatever, and has hurt sams friends--kevin, kind of cas. sam would not trust this crowley with anything. they can be on the same side, but sam knows it is inherently because crowley is self serving, and this side, his side, is whats working for him right now.

however, post trials crowley is like.. an inverse of sam, blood-wise, at least. he’s a human blooded demon. sam is a demon blooded human.

examine the church scene. you’re my marnie, he says, i just want to be loved, i deserve to be loved, and where do i even begin to ask for forgiveness, and .. he’s expressing very human emotions, and you cant tell me that crowley, who just got a step away from being blasted back into a human with blood from the worlds most empathetic man, would not feel an attachment to sam after that.

if sam ever met another demon like meg, or one turned like crowley, he could trust them. like them.

but if they were like ruby? it would immediately put him off instead.

#HEADCANON.#RESPONSE.#anonymous

0 notes

ncislaficexchange · 7 years ago

Text

Blackmail is Such an Ugly Word

A/N: Dear reader, I hope you enjoy this fic. Please know that a lot of love, frustration and often confusion went into this story. Based on your preferences I focused on Densi (and Deeks), but also the team as friends to both Kensi and Deeks. I hope you won’t mind my creative interpretation of your preferences. It was done with the very best of intentions.

This story occurs about six months from the season eight finale. Happy reading!

***

Kensi raises an eyebrow, catching Deeks’ gaze as he sidles into the mission, once again just a few minutes short of being late. His lips twitch in what she supposes is meant to be a smile, but it turns into more of a grimace. The twisted feeling in her stomach amps up another notch with each step he takes.

“Cutting it a little short, aren’t we, Deeks?” Callen observes mildly though his gaze is just as focused on the detective. She makes an effort to look away which is difficult given Deeks’ exhausted appearance, his posture slumped in a way that spells defeat. If not for the presence of Sam and Callen she’d be pulling him into her arms as she does every night when he returns home.

“Yeah, my mom is, uh, having some issues with her landlord and asked me for some advice,” Deeks says distractedly. Technically it’s true, though that particular call had come three days ago at 10pm rather than this morning.

“I didn’t know your license was current,” Sam comments, as though he has an actual interest in discussing Deeks’ former career. Kensi wonders just how much they know since neither he nor Callen has called them on the strange schedule Deeks is keeping of late or the guilt she knows is lurking in the back of their eyes.

“I’m afraid Deeks’ extracurricular activities will have to wait,” Eric announces, arriving at the top of the stairs and cutting Deeks’ reply short. He hooks a thumb behind him, pulling a face. “You’re needed in OPS.”

As the others make their way upstairs, Kensi pulls Deeks to the side, giving him a concerned look.

“What happened? You were gone all night again,” she hisses. The chance that Hetty might materialize behind them at any moment has her glancing around nervously. If she doesn’t end up with an ulcer by the end of this whole mess, she it will be a miracle.

Deeks heaves a sigh, closing his eyes briefly as he shakes his head.

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs, his voice just as low as Kensi’s though it appears to be due to exhaustion rather than fear of discovery. Kensi cants her head, questioning his decision to be silent; he’s been pretty good about filling her in and she really doesn’t want him to start hiding things again. “It’s not that,” Deeks adds quickly, seeing her look. “It’s just getting a lot more complicated than I thought it would, which is saying something, and I don’t have the time to explain it now.”

“Is there a problem, Miss Blye?” They both school their expressions as Hetty’s voice drifts down from above though Kensi’s certain that the older woman isn’t fooled in the least.

“No, we’re coming,” Deeks answers for both of them. “I just wanted to tell Kensi about Monty’s vet appointment.” As far as excuses go, it’s fairly believable; Monty has had his share of ill health in the last few months. At the very least it’s better than chronic plumbing problems. Hetty merely accepts it with a slight nod of her head, waiting for them to start up the steps.

***

“We can’t keep this up,” Kensi says in a low voice an hour later. Feeling ridiculously covert, she checks over her shoulder once more before following Deeks into the burn room. Deeks comes to rest against the nearest available surface, his posture slumping again as he brings both hands to his eyes and lets out an unsteady breath. In an instant Kensi’s irritation is gone with the obvious distress she sees in every fiber of his body.

“Baby,” she murmurs and closes the small distance between them to wrap her arms around his broader frame. After a moment’s hesitation she feels his arms lift and settle on her back, his head lowering until his nose is burrowed in her neck. Keeping a soothing rhythm Kensi gently runs her fingers over his muscles, feeling a collection of knots that are courtesy of the ridiculous amount of tension he’s been under recently. His ribs are slightly more prominent as she slides her hands up his sides and along with the loser fit of his clothes, it’s just another item on her list of worries.

“I’m sorry about this,” he says into her neck. “I know I keep saying it, but I never wanted you to have to deal with this crap.” Placing a hand on his jaw, she lifts his head and makes sure she has his full attention before she speaks.

“I want you to stop apologizing because this is not your fault,” she says firmly, punctuating the statement with a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t told Whiting–” he begins miserably. It’s an argument that Kensi has heard far too many times to count in the last few months and she treats it with the same level of import as always.

“Deeks, it’s not your fault that Whiting is an opportunistic, blackmailing hag.” Deeks blows out a shaky breath that might just have a hint of a laugh at her unbiased summation. “The point is that you saved her life and told her the truth. And if she can’t see that you’re an honorable man who was just trying to protect a vulnerable girl, then there’s something wrong with her.” Deeks nods, looking even more overwhelmed by her unfailing support.

“Now, I’m not saying that things wouldn’t be a lot easier if you hadn’t told her…” she continues, eliciting the closest thing she’s seen to a grin from him in a long time.

“Yeah, next time I’ll have to remember that,” he says almost playfully. “I love you,” he adds. Lifting a hand, he mirrors her own position, carefully cradling Kensi’s jaw as he brings their lips together.

“I love you too,” Kensi breathes against his lips, slipping a hand up his neck and into the hair curling around the edge of his collar. He’s never let it get this long since she’s known him and though she doesn’t exactly hate it, she can’t help but associate it with his current predicament.

Abandoning all pretense, Kensi tugs at Deeks’ arm, leading them farther into the room until her back hits an unknown piece of equipment. Deeks presses his body tight against hers, his weight welcome after the uncertainty of the night apart. She moans slightly as Deeks angles his head to deepen the kiss and drops a hand to her hip.

The creak of the door opening stills Deeks’ hand which had been slowly creeping towards the edge of her bra.

“I bet they’re in here.” Callen’s voice says, his head popping around the door. “Ha, told you they wouldn’t be in the showers,” he adds to whoever is on the other side of the door before taking in the still embracing couple in front of him.

“I thought you guys had a rule,” he says with vague interest as he and Sam, closely followed by Nell and Eric trail through the door.

“Didn’t really work out for us,” Deeks explains as Kensi gives him one last squeeze and steps back slightly. She keeps one arm low on his back, silently supporting him.

“Right. So you want to tell us what’s going on? Cause I gotta tell you, Sam’s not taking all the secrecy too well.”

“I wasn’t the one who wanted to show up at their house at 12:30 AM when and I quote ‘their guard will be down’ and demand answers,” Sam says irritably. Rolling her eyes, Nell cuts in before either of the older agents can continue their bickering.

“What they’re trying to say, and doing a really bad job of it, I might say, is that we’re worried and we want to know what’s going on. So, who wants to start before Hetty actually comes looking for us?”

“It’s personal and doesn’t need to affect anyone else here,” Deeks answers shortly. Withholding a sigh of exasperation, because she knows he’s just doing what he thinks is best, Kensi squeezes Deeks’ hand briefly until he looks down at her.

“We should tell them,” she says, ignoring the four pairs of curious eyes watching them with various levels of suspicion and interest.

“Kens, you know they can’t get involved in this.” Deeks nods his head in the rest of the team’s direction as he speaks. “No offense, but subtlety isn’t really NCIS’ strong point. And I really don’t need you guys rushing in with guns blazing.”

“Ok, first of all, I personally am very offended,” Callen says, earning another eye roll, this time from Sam. “Second, when has going solo ever worked for any of us?” There is an overabundance of agreement to Callen’s comment, particularly from Sam who seems to have forgotten his own forays into rogueness. Even if we can’t be directly involved, at least will know why you look like you’ve gone one-on-one with a character from The Walking Dead.”

“I do not look that bad,” Deeks mutters, as though it’s the relevant part of the conversation.

“Your eyes have been bloodshot for a week,” Callen rebuts remorselessly. Behind him, Sam makes an irritated noise, pushing past the others so he’s standing directly in front of Kensi and Deeks.

“Deeks, we all know you can counter-argue in your sleep, but why don’t you just make it easy on everyone and spill? Callen’s right, you are exhausted. Maybe it’s not effecting you yet, but the way you’ve been overextending yourself is gonna get you hurt. So just tell us what’s going on with LAPD.” Nell makes a harsh hissing sound.

“You weren’t supposed to mention that,” she murmurs as though she won’t be heard from three feet away.

“You’ve been spying on Deeks,” Kensi says flatly. She shares a glance with her partner who looks equally ticked off at the prospect. No matter their good intentions, they should have known that following Deeks would not go down well. Nell merely shrugs her minute shoulders. As if to say, ‘what did you expect?’

“Well, both of you really,” Eric adds helpfully. “You see, we didn’t know if both you were involved or just Deeks.”

“Awesome,” Deeks mutters under his breath. Kensi gently squeezes his hand again, reminding him that he’s not alone in this. She knows how much he wanted to keep his dealings with Whiting a secret and fears the repercussions if any one of them knows too much or became involved.

“If you still don’t feel like telling us,” Callen begins in an offhand tone, “we can always go to Bates and ask him what’s going on,” Kensi glares at Callen, angry that he would threaten Deeks, when he’s feeling so cornered and overwhelmed.

“Yeah, and I’ll let slip who really knocked over that rare plant Hetty has in her office,” Deeks says after a moment, not to be outdone in the blackmail department. Grabbing Deeks’ shoulder, Kensi turns him so their bodies are facing away from the others, giving the illusion of privacy.

“Deeks, we need to tell them something or they’re not going to give up,” she murmurs. Deeks instantly tenses up as expected, giving her a look of betrayal. “We knew it might come to this. And imagine the trouble they could cause if they think their helping somehow, but only end up making it worse?”

He sighs, the sound short and exhaustive, running a hand through his hair and turns back to glance at the four people openly watching their every move. Kensi catches Sam’s eye, hoping he’ll have some sense of the added pressure this is putting on Deeks. He nods discreetly and casts a brief glance at his cohorts before clapping his hands together like a coach gathering his wayward players.

“Alright guys, why don’t we give these two a little time to sort things out?” he suggests. Eric and Nell both take a look at his will-not-budge expression and easily agree, scurrying from the room while Callen is less cooperative. Sam places a large hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly steering his partner towards the doorway, he turns the knob, pausing briefly after Callen exits.

“We’ll be looking into Lieutenant Madison’s acquaintances when you get things figured out,” he informs them, clearly insinuating that while he’s giving them a moment to talk without an audience, copping out isn’t an option.

“I’d like to go on record as saying this is a terrible idea,” Deeks says the moment Sam leaves the room. The comment is Deeks through and through, but his tone lacks any of his usual humor and his face is decidedly grim. What she wouldn’t do to make it disappear and have him home again without this miserable worry and threat hanging over both their heads.

“Baby,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms back around him and pulling his head into the crook of her neck. “You know we can’t keep this up. They’re going to find out one way or another and like you said, we won’t be able to control what they decide to do.” Deeks shudders into her neck, the motion working its way straight up his spine and into Kensi. Comfortingly, she runs her fingers through his hair.

“If I tell them what I’m doing for Whiting then I’ll also have to explain what she has on me,” he says, bringing up a point that has been discussed multiple times in the past few weeks and caused quite a bit of dissension.

“Deeks, you told me you thought Sam and Callen already knew, chances are they do. And even if this is a revelation for them, you’ve stood by them without question when their actions have been less than by-the-book,” Kensi reminds him. He has a terrible habit of believing that he’s better off alienating people and having them think the worse than know the truth. There’s good reason for his secrecy she knows, but she also knows their team and whole heartedly believes they will stand behind Deeks.

“What if it changes how they treat me?” he asks, finally voicing his main fear, the same one he later admitted to Kensi after confessing about killing Boyle. “You know how long it took everyone to accept me…” shaking his head as though he can’t quite voice such thoughts, he ducks his head and presses his forehead against Kensi’s shoulder. “I don’t think I could take that,” he finally murmurs in a creaking voice. He sounds so unsure and vulnerable, terrified of losing what he considers his family.

“I know you’re scared,” she whispers into his ear. “I am too. But you can’t keep this up, you know you can’t. You’ve barely slept in three weeks, you’re not eating and you’re so tense I’m worried you’re going to have an aneurysm at any moment. And I don’t care how many times you tell me, I know that what Whiting has you doing is dangerous.”

“Going on the run is sounding better and better,” he mutters into her neck. “We don’t even need to have ice cream.”

“I will buy you an entire gallon of that expensive organic stuff with the free-range milk,” Kensi offers as though she’s compromising a visit to the doctor with a reluctant child rather than the reveal of Deeks’ deepest secret.

“I thought they only sold it in pints,” he points out, his words still muffled by her skin. Kensi snorts but doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to make his decision and silently holding him as tightly as she can. No matter how much it hurts her to see him in this situation, she knows that the decision to tell the others is fully his to make.

“Ok,” Deeks says a few minutes later, lifting his head from Kensi’s shoulder. It takes a bit of restraint not to pull him back to the safety of her embrace. He sniffs loudly and blows out a short breath. “Let’s do this,” he says in a determined voice.

“I am so proud of you,” Kensi tells him, overcome by a sudden wave of emotion. “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t realize how hard this is for you or the possible implications. I just want you to be able to live without anything hanging over your head.” Deeks nods, now reassuring her.

“I know,” he says simply. His gaze is filled with love as he leans down to kiss Kensi, his hand pressing hard against the back of her head for a moment before he lets go.

***

The rest of the team waits by their desks as promised with a collection of files open before them which seem to be mostly for appearance sake. Eric and Nell have commandeered Kensi and Deeks spots momentarily and appear to be in the middle of a somewhat heated conversation when they arrive, fingers linked.

“You know, it’s rude to talk about people when they’re still in the building,” Deeks interrupts, bringing an abrupt halt to the bickering. Callen turns with an expectant expression, not bothering to comment while Sam’s gaze flicks between Kensi and Deeks linked hands and up to their faces. He nods once in admiration as he notes the resolve in Deeks’ posture. Despite the snarkiness it’s obvious that he’s made a decision.

Deeks turns his head slightly, glancing at Kensi out of the corner of his eye. She may have pushed him to be open with the team, but she knows that ultimately what he tells them and how much is his decision. With that thought in mind she squeezes Deeks’ hand and waits.

He clears his throat once, not to gain attention because everyone is already completely focused on him, but rather to gain some sort of control in this less than desirable situation.

“Ok, I know I owe you all the truth, but before I tell you anything I need you to promise me that you won’t try to interfere. Even if you think it’s the right thing to do,” Deeks says, earning a few looks of surprise that the confession hasn’t begun though Sam nods once more with a mixture of approval and understanding. “Things are already terrible and bringing NCIS into it will only make it ten times worse.” When he receives four various signs of assent, he blows out a short breath and continues,

“About six months ago, Detective Whiting contacted me asking if I wanted to get coffee and talk.”

“Ok, I didn’t see that coming,” Nell comments. “She’s the last person I expected you to be having a tete-a-tete with.”

“Well, she wasn’t exactly my first choice either,” Deeks says dryly, his dislike of Whiting momentarily overcoming his worry and allowing a hint of sarcasm through. He sucks in a long breath, immediately releasing it and rolls his shoulders as though psyching himself up for a difficult pitch. “Beverages aside, Whiting also had another request.”

“What did she want, Deeks?” Sam asks gently.

“To help her investigate Bates without him knowing. She thinks he’s dirty,” he responds in one rushed breath as though getting it out before he can stop himself. A little bit of tension eases from his shoulders with that first hurdle behind him.

“How does she think you can help?” Nell asks, her brows furrowed. “I mean, you haven’t really worked any LAPD cases in like, what, 4 or 5 years.”

“Whiting thinks Bates likes and at the very least, trusts me, which means he’ll be less suspicious if I’m snooping.”

“Like that worked so well last time,” Nell says under her breath.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing for the last 2 months,” Callen surmises. “Spying on Bates.” He pauses to share a look with his partner that clearly says, ‘I told you so’ but Sam just shakes his head, pointing his chin in Deeks’ direction.

“I do what I can when I’m not needed here, although Whiting’s been pushing for me to spend more time at the station,” Deeks allows. He follows the statement up with a deep sigh, likely thinking of the arguments this particular point has brought on. The first time he’d come home after a full 48 hours without contact Kensi had been sick with worry which quickly morphed into anger when Deeks had shrugged off her concern with an exhausted and evasive shake of his head. It feels good that someone else knows, even if there’s nothing they can do about it.

“For my cover, Whiting spun this story that I’m actually investigating two other questionable cops in the precinct. Bates things Hetty agreed to let me help out in a show of interagency cooperation,” he adds. Eric snorts, speaking for the first time since they entered the room.

“Seriously?” At the teams’ questioning looks he clarifies. “If Bates actually believes that then he doesn’t know Hetty very well. Plus Deeks has a clause in his NCIS contract that says she has to sign off on any LAPD run operations. There’s no way Hetty would just ok an op like this without talking to Bates at all.” Eric’s voice holds a note of irritation and perhaps worry at what he clearly feels is a poorly thought out cover story.

Deeks shrugs. “Bates has so much going on right now with demands for more cops, increased accountability, not to mention the constant threat of budget cuts that I doubt he can remember what he had for breakfast let alone whether or not he signed a paper with my name at the top,” he explains, a touch of defensiveness leaking through on behalf a man he has grown to respect.

“Well, that answers the ��what’, now how about the ‘why’?” Nell prompts, ever the pragmatic. “Clearly Detective Whiting is blackmailing you for something.” Deeks flinches as though Nell’s words have physically hurt him. Making a soothing noise, Kensi smooths her hand down his back, past the point of caring what anyone thinks of her hands-on approach.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” she says, instantly jumping to his defense. It earns five varied looks of surprise and interest, but again, she finds she doesn’t care what they think.

“Nell didn’t say he did, Kensi,” Sam reminds her softly. Only slightly mollified, Kensi sends a sweeping glare around the room. She had promised Deeks that the team would be supportive and while they’re not exactly accusing him of anything, the leading questions have her on edge. Just as she’s taking a step forward, readying another barb, Deeks interrupts.

“Before you offer any more help or implicate yourselves in this gigantic mess, you should know that Whiting is blackmailing me and her charges against me were legitimate. I did kill Francis Boyle. I could go into all kinds of explanation and excuses, but I’ll just stick with: Boyle hurt Tiffany and I stopped him from ever having that opportunity again,” Deeks says in a purposeful, even and unapologetic tone. He doesn’t pause once in his explanation. There’s a rather disappointing lack of response when he finishes; no one gasps or looks horrified, confirming their theory that at least certain members know. Kensi is perhaps the most surprised by Deeks’ sudden reveal.

“Feel better?” Callen asks simply.

“That’s a lot of weight to carry for a lotta years, it’s good to have it out in the open,” Sam says gravely, but sounding once again oddly proud at the same time.

“You don’t care?” Deeks asks, his voice caught between disbelief, perhaps a little anger and definitely a lot of shock.

“Babe, don’t push it,” Kensi instructs quietly. Although she says it somewhat jokingly, there’s absolutely no reason so invite trouble. She’s feeling a little light-headed herself and is struggling not to pepper their team with questions.

Callen takes one look at Deeks’ slightly pale complexion and bewildered expression and hooks a foot around a spare chair, sliding it towards the other man.

“You look like you could use this,” he says with a smirk. Deeks wordlessly sinks into it, looking immensely grateful for the support before Sam starts speaking again.

“I think we all understand the kind of secret you’ve been keeping, we’ve all had them,” Sam explains, gesturing at each person in turn. Somehow Kensi sincerely doubts that any of them have felt the pressure of knowing they actually killed someone, but she accepts the pardon without question. “We know the kind of man you are and the kind of man Francis Boyle was. That’s enough. You protected an innocent person, I would hope the rest of us would do the same given the situation.”

Beside her, Kensi sees Deeks’ lip caught between his teeth as he attempts to deal with the emotional upheaval of the last few minutes. She know that the five people currently staring at him with varying levels of fondness and exasperation aren’t helping any so she leans down to wrap her arm around his shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of his head.

“And you all feel the same way?” she feels the need to ask. Eric and Nell have both been fairly silent and she wants to be completely certain there’s no hesitation on their part. Nell appears slightly hurt by the implication but it’s Eric who speaks up, his voice quiet and as serious as she’s ever heard it.

“I had a chance to see Steadman’s work firsthand and I trolled through so many reports against him and Boyle that…Tiffany was lucky you were there for her,” he concludes.

Deeks shakes his head. “I don’t…I don’t even know what to say,” he stutters, his voice horse. He presses his hand tight against his mouth, as though he can keep the overwhelming emotion inside by sheer force.

“That’s a first,” Callen chimes in, drawing a derisive snort from his partner. They give Deeks a few minutes to compose himself, the chatter starting back up while Kensi rubs his shoulders. While she greatly appreciates their support, she can’t help but wish for another minute alone.

“So what have you found out?” Nell asks “Is Bates guilty or is he the most unlucky man when it comes to IA investigations? Second to you, of course.”

“I don’t know. All I can tell is that Bates has been running a lot of undercover operations and working to weed out some bad apples. It means he doesn’t particularly care that I’m working on Whiting’s little project. But in order to back up my cover story, I actually have to spend time around these guys, which also means the occasional shift as back up. It’s not exactly easy to hang out with an LAPD lieutenant as it is, seems kind of suspicious and all, but now my time is just about cut in half.”

“You said you were making progress,” Kensi admonishes quietly.

“I didn’t want you to worry and compared to how things were going the first couple weeks, I am making progress,” he explains.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Callen points out, catching on to his obvious reluctance to implicate his superior. “Come on Deeks. You’ve never had a problem saying it like it is before this. If you think Bates might be involved in something, then spill.”

“Look, all I can tell is that there’s been a lot of compromised covers and operations in the last few years, but whether or not Bates is involved in some way, I don’t know. I got a chance to look over some paperwork from a botched job and it seems like Bates did everything by the book,” Deeks explains tiredly.

“You said Whiting mentioned something about finding evidence while investigating you,” Kensi reminds him suddenly, bringing up a bit of information that had obviously slipped through Deeks’ already overcrowded mind. “Do you know what that evidence was?” He shakes his head, dispelling Kensi’s momentary excitement.

“No clue…I’d need to see the files but I have restricted access to all files from my case. But the only way I can think Bates could possibly be involved is if Whiting found out he helped me bust out of LAPD and that’s not something to start this kind of investigation over,”

“Maybe he enacted a little…social justice himself,” Nell suggests slowly, her voice rising higher as she speaks. Perhaps she’s worried that Deeks’ will lash out or react in some other negative way, but he merely shakes his head.

“Bates has way too much control for that.”

“So what’s your plan moving forward?” Callen asks.

“I don’t know, man. What I do know is that I can’t let it interfere with my work with NCIS or Hetty will decide to intervene, but I also can’t put Whiting off any more than I have,” Deeks says and Kensi is disappointed to notice that any positive effects of the last half hour have completely disappeared, leaving his mood as despondent as ever.

“I might be able to help with that,” Nell slips a hand into the pocket of her cardigan and removes a familiar looking object. “It’s not exactly the cavalry, but it should help if you get into trouble,” she says, extending the earwig in Deeks’ direction. He stands and silently takes it, his expression unreadable.

“Nell, I appreciate this but…”

“I set it to its own private frequency so no one else should be able to access it unless they’re already linked in and an agent-in-distress alert will be sent to all of our phones if you have it turned on and use the distress word three times in a row,” she continues, talking over Deeks’ protest and then again at his reluctant expression. “This is more important than anything Hetty can do if and when she inevitably finds out. I am not going to let you play Whiting’s fall guy.” Her expression is so fierce and determined that Deeks would be stupid to attempt further protest.

“Alright then,” he murmurs with a very faint smirk.

“And um, if Hetty mentions something about a two week long LAPD training seminar, just go along with it?” Eric adds, looking just as fierce as Nell and somewhat pleased with himself. “That should give you a little more time to investigate without taking a graveyard shift.”

“Do I even want to know how you generated that memo?” Deeks asks, looking overwhelmed by the generosity of their friends.

“Nope,” Eric answers immediately and definitively. “Suffice it to say that the course coordination office had a little snafu with their database.”

“Guys, we really don’t want you to get in any trouble,” Kensi reiterates. “This doesn’t even come close to a sanctioned operation and you’re using NCIS resources, hacking LAPD…” she trails off, letting the mounting pile of minor offenses sink in. Sparing a glance at Deeks, she worries for a moment that she’s overstepped her bounds, but he’s nodding in agreement.

“You don’t know how much I appreciate everything you guys are doing, have done, but I need you to understand that Whiting is not afraid of bringing down anyone who gets in her way. She’s already threatened to bring Kensi in for questioning which is part of the reason why I haven’t pushed back. And she’s knows it.” Deeks says, glancing at Kensi in particular. He knows that this is a sore spot with her; she hates being a weakness of any sort.

“If we don’t do anything, then she’s just gonna get her claws in deeper and deeper, Deeks,” Callen points out, sounding frustrated by the constant requests to stand down. “You need to show her that she doesn’t hold all the power.”

“Well right now she does,” he snaps back, blowing out a short breath a second later and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whiting’s smart and plays mostly by the book from what I can tell. If she’s been blackmailing other officers into helping her, there’s no evidence. Not that I haven’t been looking when I have the chance. It’d have to be pretty damning though and I’d have to be sure she had absolutely no conclusive proof I was guilty.”

“Then we have a plan: Nell and Eric, find something on Whiting that is worthy of counter-blackmail without being too obvious, Deeks will keep Whiting happy and the rest of us will make sure he doesn’t get himself arrested again or killed,” Callen sums up, wearing a self-satisfied expression.

A shrill beeping interrupts suddenly, the sound drawing everyone’s gaze to Eric’s right pocket.

“Ah, Hetty’s just left the Commissioner’s office,” he explains, silencing the alarm. “We better get to ops.”

“We’ll go with you,” Sam says, getting up from his chair.

“But there’s nothing for us to do in ops,” Callen complains, earning an eye roll from his partner.

“We’ll find something for you to do,” Sam retorts while tugging a mildly resisting Callen away from his desk. On the way past, Sam squeezes Deeks’ shoulder. “I’m sure Nell has lots of files that need to be destroyed.”

“Do you ever get the feeling we’re not in control of our lives?” Kensi asks as they watch the pair argue their way up to ops.

“Every single day since I met you,” he jokes.

***

Later that day, well night really, Kensi is driving home, one hand on the steering wheel and the other grasping Deeks’. His body is angled away from her, forehead propped against the passenger window. She might think that he’s angry with her if it weren’t for the almost undetectable brushing of his thumb across her knuckle.

They’re driving home together for the first time in over a week and despite Deeks’ solemn mood, she can’t help but feel a touch of contentment.

“What did Whiting say when you told her you weren’t coming in tonight?” she asks, partially out of curiosity but also hoping that it will draw Deeks out of his own thoughts.

“I don’t know. Left a voicemail,” he answers in short, clipped sentences. After a few more moments of silence he slowly shifts himself around until he’s facing her, a groan or two slipping out when his legs get caught in the small space. “I thought about what Callen’s said earlier and he’s right,”

“Wow, I’m pretty sure that’s the firsts time those words have ever left your mouth,” she jokes, pleased when it earns her a brief smirk. Deeks brings her hand to his lips and presses a soft, lingering kiss there.

“Well, today’s been full of surprises, so why not?” he murmurs. “I can’t let Whiting have this kind of control over me. If I make it through this investigation with my badge, and that’s a big if, she’s still going to have Boyle to hang over my head. There’s nothing to stop her from using me as her personal mole indefinitely.”

“So what are you going to do?” Kensi asks, internally relieved that he’s being sensible. Deeks sighs, letting go of her hand to run his fingers through his hair. She misses the contact immediately and once again realizes how little time they’ve had together recently.

“Figure I’ll start with any officers she’s investigated and look for evidence of misconduct…anything that will give me an edge,” He shrugs, his expression bleak as he goes back to watching the darkened blurs that represent trees and bushes.

“Well I’m down for any plan that gets Whiting off our backs for good,” Kensi says lightly although deep down she’d rather approach the IA detective in a more hands-on manner. When she’d heard that Whiting had been shot, she’d been sympathetic, putting aside her dislike. Any compassion had evaporated the second Whiting had approached Deeks with her proposition.

“I need you to do something for me,” Deeks says suddenly, still staring out the window.

“Of course,” she agrees immediately in her eagerness to help. It’s only a moment later that Kensi recognizes the guilt and hesitation in his voice for what it is. “You’re going to say something really stupid now, aren’t you,” she predicts. Deeks presses his lips together.

“You have to stay away from Whiting and LAPD this time. I don’t care what she does or says but I don’t want her to have another opportunity to threaten you or force you into testifying against me. If you think it’s bad now, it’s probably only going to get worse and you can’t play into her hands.”

“If you remember, it didn’t work last time she tried,” Kensi points out, her mouth dry at what she things Deeks is suggesting. He’s already pushed her away enough as it is and she’s terrified he’ll try something really stupid, like putting off their engagement.

Deeks makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, only because you were abducted and Whiting got shot,” he retorts. Pulling into the driveway, Kensi puts the car in park before throwing up her hands in exasperation.

“Fine, I won’t provoke her. But if I find out she’s putting you in danger or risking your career, I will not just stand by.” Deeks nods at her fierce words. “We’re partners,” she continues in a softer voice. “Here at home, at work, wherever, whatever we do, no matter how many IA Detectives come after you. I’m not going to abandon you and there is no way in hell I’m letting this force us apart. I said it earlier and I’ll say it again since you apparently are experiencing short term memory loss: “I love you and I am not going anywhere, ever.” Deeks sniffs a couple times, refusing to meet her gaze.

“This has the potential to get a lot worse,” he whispers again.

“Only if you try and go off by yourself like an idiot,” she replies stubbornly. She watches Deeks’ face in his window, waiting for him to react with his typical wit and when he doesn’t, she grabs his, kissing it in the same place he had hers. His head falls then, that guilty, miserable expression she hates so much back again. She’d give anything to see him smiling and laughing once more.

“This isn’t fair,” he whispers. Scooting over in her seat until the console impedes further movement, she places her palms on Deeks’ cheeks, ignoring his mild resistance. She gently pulls his forehead down to meet hers and relishes the moments when he finally leans into her touch.

“None of the crap we’ve been through in the last eight years has been fair,” she reminds him. “But we’ve always made it through together and this is no different.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this one,” he admits on a sigh, the sounds making Kensi’s chest throb. “Even if I find evidence against Whiting, it might not be enough or in time to be go any good.

“We will,” she assures him. “We will. And when this is all over we are going to plan out wedding and get married and go on a ridiculously expensive honeymoon in the middle of nowhere, where Hetty won’t even be able to find us.” Deeks chuckles weakly at her fierce tone and nods his head again.

“Ok,” he agrees, leaning down until his lips meet Kensi’s, his hands clasping the back of her head to pull that much closer. He is exquisitely gentle as he eases her lips apart.

“I love you so much,” he breathes into her mouth. As they stumble from the car and through the front door, Kensi knows that one night of lovemaking isn’t going to fix anything. She’s desperate for the reprieve though and as Deeks presses her against their bedroom wall, she silently vows to do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

by - @ejzah

#2k17 ncisla fic exchange

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glopratchet · 4 years ago

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labs-mirro

found human flesh in the ruins of a burnt house, added it to my diet hahahaha added a human taste to bear meat and chewy snail shells ive earned muh name too now they call me 'Sumner the cannibal' visit that forest at night without jake and crew? NOPE! but ive been avoiding those tempting near by farms and sniping any strays i see sadly its not the same sport as hunting with treachery too easy boredom has set in as ive wiped out the majority of the gators, started wiping out small villages searching for new plague bearing rats but sickened by how weak and soft this land is now, not worth conquerin or even robbin Instead ive been wasting days locked in my house trying and failing to think up "AART nostalgia tour favorites" currently locked in my "meditation room" getting invasion plans from every direction, this village is weak as anything and theres dozens of fat sheep full of bone marrow and blood me on solid ground ahead of a potential alligator attack THEY wont be expecting a thing??!' ^ good news! seems like old charlie has found his purpose again, attacking while theyre eating will obliterate half before they can even react oooooOOOOOoooooo Just jumped to close to the boy and he caught me!!!!!!! my custom ballcutter caught on his armor and now hes furiously shredding it off scraping it along my own underside as--- GAAAH! too late ive been sliced across the eyes NOW what am I gonna do --oops he just slid off trembling waiting to regenerate He was delicious but I was starving back after a regenerative meal, war's been on my mind a lot lately seems everytime mama stomps off in one of her moods now me and pops end up running raids, setting villages alight and raiding conquests for a time gotta say I love being on the attack, bringing fear to other humans never bores me and neither does killing I've certainly had my taste during this long winter guess I've been developing a taste for blood in general too humans are tasty after all no rest for the wicked Where was I? oooh yes Here I am consumed with vile bloodlust and the energy it gives but a quick jot of prose rest the mind and brring clarity Let me tell you all about my dear friend charlie, in fact he was the first one among my recent friends ive not killed or eaten The man gave himself the name "charley horse" Finally managed to settle into a good rhythm with these deranged people and I get the sneaking suspicion charley horse was involved in getting humans to raid my homeland! really rubs me the wrong way Why has he not been killed yet?? hes never done anithing right! Ahem sorry one moment regenerating like nobodies business OOoooooh that feels better!! where were we? oh yes charley horse Pretty sure he's been sabotaging my every effort to fit in with the rest of the humans, those raiders were bad enough but to think he's been actively getting them to target home makes my scales itch I assume hes been organizing these raids from the south up near new aggressor territory so thats where Ive headed Finally caught up to him, and ambushed his band of ambitious little opportunists only to watch him escape Those humans were all loaded down with fur and hide armor so Im guessing charley has been organizing things with the bears as wel guess I'll have to get rid of him This act of kindness is gonna hurt him more than a little bat to the head since Ive had enough of his traitorous actions surprise surprise the raiders are organizing up there and have been recruiting humans from all the way down south, (even near the ruins of DC) those wackos seem to pop up everywhere don't they? Oh and charley horse is organizing things with them !!!! The little turncoat definitely has to die Ive had just about enough of his act I'm gonna need to get in deep and hasta muerte* That was interesting, ive been trying to get in good with the bear brutas for weeks now and I finally managed it by getting captured by a bunch of destroyer robots and had my mind probed and my body royally mangled! I hate robots! But in the end I got accepted like I wanted :) the bear brutas are pretty good folks once you get past their gruff exterior theyre kinda just like us scaly folk even if their primarily carniverous shhh! im supposed to be hiding by pretending to be one of them :) One of the girls just came around, ooooooh shes cute!! Gotta remember to keep an eye on charley horse *Hasta muerte means "until death" in spanish Comment too long Click here to view the full text Seeing alot of robots lately, makes me miss the old world and the old ways before all this new technology showed up, I almost long for the unified church inquisitors to hammer on my door again tough not nearly as tough as the old coalition or Enclave hunts Ive actually managed to become friends with a guy named Zero and his gang of repurposed robot killclowns, funny bunch of guys that love to joke around but they mean business when it counts Done a couple of jobs with them actually, never followed carly's rule of just sticking to one weapon and ive found its been quite helpful having access to an entire armory! I think in this crazy new world theres nothing better than a huge pile of weapons to pick from Keep coming across these fur clothes wearing tribals too, they actually seem to revere charley horse as some sort of deity or greatest warrior or something Theres more to him than meets the eye, good thing ive been getting on his good side :) The wish i could find out more about him but he just vanishes for days at a time some odd instinct tells me its best not to ask questions Its funny how im not the only one keeping a watch out for him its like all of us scaly types have this mutual understanding, hes the man but none of us want him to get too big for his boots, also because we all have our own agendas and jobs to do Just like old times back in the coalition! And now ive finally made my move just like old times! I cant even believe ive pulled it off either, took a while to set up and almost got caught a couple times but it all payed off! Was actually stupidly easy if i do say so myself!

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comicteaparty · 6 years ago

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December 20th, 2018 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party chat that occurred on December 20th, 2018, from 5PM - 7PM PST. The chat focused on Goddess of Paradise by Dee S. / Beedee.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB START!

Good evening, everyone~! This week’s Thursday Book Club is officially beginning! Today we are discussing Goddess of Paradise by Dee S. / Beedee~! (http://paradise.bluedubia.com/)

Remember that Thursday discussions are completely freeform! However, every 30 minutes I will drop in OPTIONAL discussion questions in case you’d like a bit of a prompt. If you miss out on one of these prompts, you can find them pinned for the chat’s duration. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is fun and respectfully appreciating the comic. All that said, let’s begin!

QUESTION 1. What is your favorite scene in the comic so far and why?

my favorite scene so far i think is when eridu runs into ekka. it was nice to see a character actually be happy to see her after a slew of eridu running into charas who dont really care all that much. and i just think its a good balance in general to all the hard truths eridu has woken up to.

although my second favorite scene admittedly is probably when she meets amun. just cause amun is gonna win all those awards for being lazy and laid back

but in general i liked how casually amun reveals that nah bro, its been 1200 years of slumber. as if its no big deal (which tbf for gods probably kind of isnt to a degree but still XD)

mathtans

My favourite scene was near the start of Chapter 4, with the human encounter. In large part because there was mention of a "dead human", making me think "wow that took a dark turn"... then it turned out she wasn' t dead and there was the whole "ick" factor, that wasn't dark at all.

Nice sort of twist, is I guess what I'm saying.

I also do like the Ekka scene though. In part because of my tendency to enjoy yuri ships.

RebelVampire

ah that was a hilarious moment. where eridu is basically treating the priestess like shes some dead insect or roadkill. but i also like within the comedy you see a really blunt and significant view into how she views humans

mathtans

Amun was cool, it was a good way to advance the plot, I'm not always keen on the laid back types though, heh.

Yeah, roadkill's kind of a good word the way that happened. ^.^

It's really interesting the way it's developed in first person overall too.

Reminds me a bit of a picture book, but the first person is a different take on that too.

RebelVampire

for the record you mean 2nd person. first person is "I do this thing" second person is "you do this thing"

but yeah this is probably the first 2nd person comic ive run into. im interested to see where it goes cause 2nd person is generally the more difficult pov to make work but theres also a lot of potential for creative stuff

mathtans

Oh yeah... that type of person.

Totally. I'm not sure how else you'd do it either, aside form having captions blocking the art. So this works.

RebelVampire

yeah it does work. although i also like that the comic has tons of silent moments that just let the visuals speak for themselves. because these are definitely some gorgeous visuals!

mathtans

That's true too. Also neat how some things stay the same while characters or other items appear.

RebelVampire

yeah it really helps draw your focus.

another scene i really like is when eridu shows up back on the island and all the green sprouts. cause its beautiful imagery. but im also haunted with questions about what happened to those two people who were watching

mathtans

Oh yeah, that was great. Goddess of amazing entrances or the like - though we saw the real one later on. ^.^ In retrospect, I feel like that made sense too, with humans being a footnote that she hadn't even expected to be there.

Though I do wonder about them too.

Maybe they were worshippers.

RebelVampire

maybe. although thatd be ironic if that sudden overgrowth killed them then

died for their beliefs

worshipped too hard

mathtans

True. Though I'm not sure death will really be a thing in the comic.

Feels like that was averted.

RebelVampire

maybe. id for sure say there probably wont be onscreen death.

probably

well violent death

mathtans

Unless it's one of the older gods maybe.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 2. After a 1200 year slumber, the Goddess Eridu finds the world quite different. Besides people being on her island, what else do you think will be a culture shock for Eridu? Do you think she’ll be able to adjust to all the changes, or will she refuse to accept them and continue to try to return the status quo? What do you think the other divine aspects have been up to over the years? Do you think more will be glad to see Eridu, like Ekka, or will more act like Amun and not care? Do you believe Eridu will manage to gain back her divine powers, or will something prevent her? Overall, how do you think this journey might change Eridu’s perspective on her divinity, on humans, or anything else? What will that change (or lack of change) mean for Eridu’s future actions?

mathtans

I wonder if technology exists on a world where Gods/Goddesses are just wandering around.

RebelVampire

depends on how we want to define technology. like for instance back when the world was young a loom would technically count as technology just cause it was a machine for advanced tasks.

im gonna laugh if eridu gets to a village and like theres electric lights everywhere. and she flips a light switch on and off wondering how humans came upon such magic and which god gave it to them

i feel regardless technology would advance

since if eridu can be considered a look into the average god/goddess than they probably mostly just ignore humans

unless theyre like "man i feel like being worshipped today"

mathtans

Well, that's a fair point. I guess I feel like if you can just ask a god to turn on the lights, there's not much need to do the inventing.

I also kind of wonder if one of the divine aspects is what put Paradise to sleep in the first place. Like, maybe was in league with that Enki new God type.

Unless Enki turns out to be a posturing human that the divine aspect was using as a puppet or something.

RebelVampire

dang now thatd be an interesting twist

mathtans

Also, this is a small island in the middle of nowhere. Maybe the mainland is rather different in terms of society.

All about the twists.

RebelVampire

this is also a large possibility. i considered that too. that whatever the island is it might not be representative of the world. honestly it could be argued the island has more old world values even cause theyre the only ones with a shrine left

Beedee

ahhh sorry I'm late! I'm reading up. hello people!

RebelVampire

hello~!

but yeah the twist, i just wouldnt think itd be possible cause the divine aspects are like parts of herself. so itd be hard to imagine one getting powerful enough to oust her. but that is what would make a twist like that so interesting cause it seems so unlikely

i think as far as the aspects though were gonna meet more amun's than ekka's XD not necessarily as laid back as amun, but more like they moved on in life/got bored

mathtans

Might not be old world values as much as it's just new gods have taken over everywhere and they haven't gotten around to dealing with the island yet.

I kinda thought about the parts of self thing... but isn't there a part of ourselves that we sometimes hate, and wish we could get rid of? And the Goddess doesn't seem like she'd be the nicest person to that part of herself, maybe. Though who knows, I may be way off.

I wonder if some of the others might also be asleep, or be serving other goddesses or something.

RebelVampire

the impression im getting is theyre all in their inner sanctums. so cant exactly serve anyone if theyre stuck there. and i also doubt they would cause i dont get the impression they think eridu is dead

thats like declaring loyalty to the assistant manager while the manager is on vacation

mathtans

Maybe they left voicemail at the inner sanctum and are wandering sans powers?

Fair enough though. There'd need to be incentives.

RebelVampire

but idk i mean could be possible

theres a lot of room for variety cause weve barely scratched the present day surface

Beedee

these are some good theories dang

mathtans

Also not sure how her perspectives will change... given how a few days can't wipe out decades of personality. Would need something monumental.

RebelVampire

i like to think shell at least come to view humans differently. or her role cause generally losing powers has the effect of humbling some one

QUESTION 3. The largest mystery presented in the story is why Eridu slept for so long. Who do you think forced Eridu (and her spirit aspects) away from the physical plane? What do you think the reasons were? Was it someone trying to do away with Eridu, or was it for some larger, greater good purpose? Does whoever Enki is have something to do with it? Or is Enki just some innocent bystander who was mistakenly identified as the one who created Eridu’s island? What do you think will happen when Eridu finally runs into Enki? Also, considering Eridu was already forced away from the realm, do you believe this could easily happen to her again? What is stopping the culprit from banishing Eridu back?

mathtans

(I think I'm belatedly realizing that's the creator. )

RebelVampire

lol thats okay math. yes @Beedee is the creator

mathtans

Losing powers can do that. I wonder if flying is a thing with other gods.

Beedee

haha yes I am~

mathtans

I feel like Enki is more an opportunist than the one who engineered everything or totally innocent. Though we've yet to meet him.

Kind of like the Wizard of Oz, in a way?

RebelVampire

i definitely think thats a distinct possibility. im on the page enki isnt this malicious entity and i dont think enki is responsible for what happened to eridu

mathtans

I do feel like Goddess will get all up in his face though.

RebelVampire

but maybe enki is no one. maybe hes just some human who found the island and said "hey my dudes lets live here this island is great." and then as history usually goes stories got exaggerated and eventually a human of great deeds became a god

mathtans

Oooh, maybe. Like, he doesn't actually exist anymore but put lots of things in place so people wouldn't realize that. (Makes me think of some societies from Star Trek.)

RebelVampire

yeah or something. but i could go either way. or it could be a combo of both

either way i dont think enki is responsible

to me it seems more likely kur is responsible at this point

for kicking eridu out of the physical planes

cause he needed her for things later

tho its curious she doesnt remember getting kicked out at all

Beedee

I find it interesting that you both get a vibe that enki isn't responsible even though he hasn't shown up yet :0

mathtans

I guess I just feel like that's too obvious of a solution. Goddess blaming the person who's actually behind it. I expect a twist, like how there weren't originally humans on the island.

I hadn't considered Kur as having a part in it. That's interesting.

Beedee

heh, fair

mathtans

Crazy theory time, the Priestess human is actually a God in disguise!

RebelVampire

yeah im with math. enki is the obvious choice. thus more likely a red herring. which could be wrong. maybe enki is all bwahahaha i have taken over

the priestess was responsible!

mathtans

Who has lost her memory and forgets.

Enki could also be the one behind it, but he was told to do it by Kur, or someone else.

Incidentally, I like the map feature. That's clever. Tracking the path over the island.

Beedee

ahh thanks!

mathtans

(I mean, story guide, not really a feature, but still.)

I often go to those pages, I'm rubbish with names.

RebelVampire

even if i remember the names i love those sorts of pages for spellings. cause i read a lot of comics and its hard to remember how to spell everyone's name even if i know what it is XD

mathtans

That's fair. Also neat how it's being developed over time.

RebelVampire

i like to think the reason eridu was sent away was not to do away with her. like maybe eridu did something bad she doesnt remember (or didnt consider bad). like flood some other god's island that got too close to hers. only that island was heavy populated already.

mathtans

Oh, that's a thought. Or maybe someone else did something bad and she wanted to forget it. Said sleep until I don't remember, didn't realize that'd take a few centuries.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 4. Eridu’s arrival seems to coincide with several “coincidences” within the story. Why was the Dragon-God Kur also slumbering for at least 1000 years? Is it somehow related to Eridu, or was it for a separate reason? Why has Kur woken up early? Also, what is Ekka making for Kur that he even goes to the effort of sending Eridu to help get it? Further, we see a few other gods talking about Kur. Why is Shulsa seeking out Kur so desperately? What exactly could go “badly” that Zida leaves to prepare for it? Also, who is Daiard looking to settle a score with? Lastly, why do you think the priestess of Enki was conveniently near where Eridu crashed? Was that just a coincidence, or was she there for a related reason to Eridu?

Beedee

good question

mathtans

Kur forgot to hit the snooze alarm. Or whatever the equivalent is. (Oh, maybe that's what they were bringing to him...) I'm also not sure what to make of the interlude. Does make it clear that there are other Gods around, the Priestess wasn't making things up or delusional or something.

Maybe Enki told the Priestess to go there because of all the vegetation.

RebelVampire

i think the interlude does kind of prove other gods are around.

now that im thinking of it

mathtans

Yeah, helps to flesh out the island.

RebelVampire

kur just woke up from a 1000 year slumber and the first thing he does is to sit down and kind of take a nap before eridu shows up

which i identify with

maybe the 1000 years is just normal for kur

thats just how long he sleeps

his 8 hours so to speak

Beedee

I will quickly say: yeah that's just how long he sleeps

mathtans

I kinda got that impression from the fact that they knew when he'd be awake. More or less.

Though it could have been a prophecy or something.

RebelVampire

man i wanna sleep for 1000 years

so jealous

mathtans

Incidentally, I liked how Kur was built up to be this ancient amazing entity, worthy of awe, only to have Paradise say, yeah, nevermind that nonsense.

Beedee

haha

at the end of this session, if you are up for spoilers, I'd actually be willing to show the WIP last panels of this chapter for a short amount of time. it explains some of Kur and Ekka's deal haha

mathtans

Aw, it's not Ekka and the Goddess jumping on a mattress?

Beedee

maybe in a side comic lmao

mathtans

I was amused by the reaction to the failed stripping too.

RebelVampire

i enjoyed eridu's disappointment that they werent gonna have sex. just cause it was so blunt. XD

mathtans

Like, ow, my chest. And yeah, that upped the rating, I think

RebelVampire

maybe daiard also hates enki. cause to me the obvious choice is eridu. so im gonna go with enki. everyone is gonna join forces and go after enki

and enki is gonna be like "hey friends would yoou like some tea"

Beedee

haha

to be honest

mathtans

Enki, actually God of Tea.

Beedee

daiard was a dumb callback to the beginning of chapter 2, that became worldbuilding(edited)

mathtans

New crazy theory: Goddess actually ends up putting herself to sleep in the past because the divine can mess with space-time.

RebelVampire

thats brain hurting

Beedee

oh gosh

mathtans

It was all a plan to help her become more grateful, or something.

RebelVampire

hmm, this actually makes me remember that eridu thought shed been sleeping to recharge. maybe there is no villain. maybe eridu just overexerted herself to the point she forced her own self back

shes gonna go on a long quest only to find out she was the villain all along

Beedee

future Eridu goes back in time to punch herself in the face

(thisisajoke)

mathtans

Hah! I could see that though, like "shape up, self".

Also, recharging could be a thing. Maybe she just needs a good nap to be able to fly again too.

RebelVampire

nope this is canon now. future eridu very wise. /shot

i hope she finds the flying having divine aspect soon and gets her powers back. cause man those inner sanctums seem really inconvenient to navigate

cause i dont think ekka's was any better than amun's

ekka's was just more convenient cause a plant taxi picked eridu up

Beedee

true

the sanctums are all awful to navigate on foot

but I like drawing environments lmao

RebelVampire

they are beautiful environments too. i really enjoy the contrast between ekka and amun's sanctums

mathtans

Anyway, this comic does hit a lot of the things I enjoy, from an interesting narrative style to great environments... and some romance too. (edited)

Beedee

thank you ovo

mathtans

Maybe Ekka and Priestess are the real ship.

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB END!

Sadly, this wraps up this week’s Thursday Book Club chat for now. Thank you so much to everyone for reading and joining us! We want to give a special thank you to Dee S. / Beedee, as well, for making Goddess of Paradise. If you liked the comic, make sure to support Dee S. / Beedee’s efforts however you’re able to~!

Read and Comment: http://paradise.bluedubia.com/

Dee S. / Beedee’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bluedubia

Dee S. / Beedee’s Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/bluedubia

Dee S. / Beedee’s itch.io store: https://bdubia.itch.io/

Dee S. / Beedee’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/Beedeebia

Comic Tea Party- Thursday Book Club

Next week’s Thursday Book Club will be about Inhibit by Eve Greenwood / evegwood. For participants, you have the next week to read as much of the comic as you would like~! We hope to see you on Thursday, December 27th, from 5PM to 7PM PST for the chat in #thursday_bookclub!

Comic’s Main Site: http://www.inhibitcomic.com/

Comic’s Webtoons Mirror: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/inhibit/list?title_no=40462

Comic’s SmackJeeves Mirror: http://www.smackjeeves.com/comicprofile.php?id=147115

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