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tarunsaravana · 3 years

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BRAINWASHING CHILDREN THEORY

Now I’m warning you the next theory is pretty dark and probably one of the most unsettleing ones we have talked about in this Blog.

This theory starts with subliminal msgs in kids shows.

SUBLIMAL MESSAGES

By far Spongebob square pants has the most messages that are clearly hidden in grown ups.

There’s jokes about prison “Don’t Drop Them”

Patrick licking sand.

Those are all just jokes, clearly hidden for adults

But there are lot of jokes, some involves suicide.

In a 2001 episode , squidward is being sad the entire time. There is scenes of him walking around dazed stage. There is a scene of him putting in a oven. By far the most darkest moment of them all is sponge bob looks after him thinking his okay. And then he’s says “at least we know he’s alive”. Yeah that might be the darkest line I have ever read in a kids cartoon show. There are plenty of suicidal messages left in other episodes. As I was looking more into it , I found out suicide was in a lot of cartoon tv shows. The ending of looney tunes.this one really gave me chills down spine, in one of the cartoon characters from looney tunes jumping off the bridge shouting “IM FREE”. Once again glorifying suicide. And its not just these clips. Bunny , Daffy Duck, woody woodpecker, daisy and a bunch of cartoon characters ending their life with gun for no reason. the strangest of them all how they made it look exciting to kids.There is a cartoon where mickey gets depressed over Minnie. In that cartoon 3 ways of killing yourself is shown gun, petroleum and for some reason jumping off a bridge. Now I’m not saying this to scare you or not to watch cartoon. These are all just theories none of them are “facts” and they are not meant to hurt anyone/anything. I mean the daisy cartoon where daisy is shown depressed , in that cartoon almost 5 ways of killing yourself is shown and poured into youngsters mind. Gun, grenade ,knife, hanging and bomb.

THEORY(just speculations)

Now why would they put suicide on younger generations brain some people think control of over growth of population, some people think to keep society weak and depressed and fearful state. Because the more younger you are between 1 - 5 years your brain develops and everything you see on your favourite cartoon shows killing themself and also make it exciting. The more society, the more power control over weak society. Think about it kids are depressed , we’re medicating them and putting them on pills and sitting in front of TV while their watching their favorite cartoon character kill themself and also making it seem exciting to kids. I mean the global antidepressant market is estimated over 11.6 BILLION dollars. The government and the economy love depression. We also glorify things like money, fame, success. And of course if we can’t afford things we were told it will set us “free”. That’s why back of our heads teens think suicide is an option. YES , people have severe depression,OCD ,suicidal thoughts me too included in the past. But it is wondering who started all of these negative energy. Think about it your child entertainer Logan Paul filming a dead body in the suicide forest. The nickelodeon shows who show unessasacery content to kids.it involves talking about feet a lot. Even think about the board game which targeted to us as kids.

“THE GAME OF LIFE”. The goal is to succeed or you’ll lose. To win the game of life you need to make money. You should be better than those who are playing against you. Literally the commercial says “Be A Winner in the Game of Life”. I MEAN , COME ON. And the original version of the game of life in 1860 ,created by Milton Bradley ,it literally had suicide on the board as a option. Now its not just suicide being poured into kids pure brain.there’s darkness in every single form. I mean think about the games we used to play as kids. I mean just google “Ring around the Rosie meaning”A rosy rash, they allege, was a symptom of the plague, and posies of herbs were carried as protection and to ward off the smell of the disease. Sneezing or coughing was a final fatal symptom, and "all fall down" was exactly what happened. Again a another event where people die and has shown as exciting to kids. London Bridge. A song about a huge bridge falling down.“London Bridge is Falling Down” could be about a 1014 Viking attack, child sacrifice, or the normal deterioration of an old bridge. But the most popular theory seems to be that first one. More specifically: the alleged destruction of London Bridge at the hands of Olaf II of Norway sometime in the early 1000s. There’s even a darker line singing iron parts will bend and break , bend and break.

Ouija board, a game that makes fun to contact evil spirits in your house.Twister , a game that is marketed to tight teenagers up and down. Imagine the creepy uncles wanna play the game at thanksgiving.and then we have the darkest of them all Hangman , game where you have to choose the correct word or your little stick figure gets hanged. And the darkest part of them all is that , this classroom game is actually based on real life game in the 18th century, prisoners that were sentenced to death by hanging should guess the word, the exicutioner will give and if they guess the word right they’ll live or if not death. The most messed up part of all of this ,that almost all of the prisoners were illiterate which means they didn’t have a chance , that game was to just publicly humiliate them before they died.

NURSERY RHYMES

And it’s not just games which have a darker turn , what’s the first thing you remember as a kid, nursery rhymes. rock bye baby , a song which a baby’s cradle is in the branch of a tree and the branch breaks and the baby falls to the ground. Humpty Dumpty , he sat on a wall and suddenly “had a great fall” and nobody can save him because he’s dead.”its raining and pouring” a song where a old man hits his head on the wall and then dies, “he couldn’t get up in the morning “

Now one of the most disturbing is Peter peter pumpkin eater. A song about a guy who he’s wife doesn’t want him and puts her in a pumpkin and again, song which normalizes holding women against your will. I mean looking back at London bridge there’s a reference to something along the lines of “LOCK HER UP,LOCK HER UP” “LOCK HER UP,LOCK HER UP “(lyrics from London bridge).

INTERNET

Now on the internet kids start watching YouTube kids but don’t worry there’s bunch of dark messages hidden there. Murder,suicide, violence and for some reason lot of vomiting. Then when you’re a teenager you watch plenty of violence movies, tv shows and now internet challenges like momo challenge and blue whale challenge.

DISCUSSION

Everyone on society questions how much evil, death, hatred, depresssion, destruction but do we even have to question it? By looking back at our childhoods what was being put into us and right in front of our eyes. So what’s the overall theory ,”the way to keep a society in large is by fear, chaos ,the only way to make vote for them is to through destruction”” the only way to unite is through tragedies.”

“The only way to keep people happy , is by showing constant realistic expections that don’t really matter”” money, success”. The society that’s peaceful is not a society that can never be controlled.

CONCLUSION(spreading awareness)

So ,what do you do to make sure that chaos doesn’t appear continuously , well make sure to SHOW children how scary and dark the world is at very young age.

News

A mother bought a toddler this princess wand in the dollar store. Imagine the curiosity , shock and surprise when the child carefully peeled the foil to find a image of a another little girl cutting her wrist full blood.

“If you looked close enough its not a joke ,its actual image of a child slit her wrist, I want to know , what they think,how that’s suitable for a child.

Tarun

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laurazepamwrites · 4 years

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The Chemicals between us ~ Chapter 1

The numbers on the digital clock screen turned to 03:00 am. The watchpoint was silent save the few still functioning Domiciliary bots quietly moving through the corridors and the screech of some local wildlife far off in the distant. The world was dark and still and peaceful. No sane person would be awake at this hour.

She didn't feel sane.

It was that dream again. The suffocating nightmare that woke her up most nights thrashing and tearing off covers before finally leaving her huddled in a ball, dampened with cold sweat and whimpering. Mei’s breathing had finally slowed enough to a steady rhythm. Slowly and tentatively she sat up brushing her tousled hair out of her face. She wiped away the tears with her palms and took a deep breath. The only light in her small room came from the soft blue glow of Snowball the Droid silently charging nearby.

She had been in Gibraltar for 2 months, part of a skeleton crew in a forgotten watchpoint for a forgotten organization. She certainly had concerns of coming here, she still did. The Petras act made any overwatch activity illegal and its participants prosecuted. Mei was struggling to come to terms with her malfunctioned cryostasis and now had ten years of change in the world to catch up on. Seven months ago Winstons message had woken up the eco point, waking Mei up to a world that had abandoned and moved on without her. She threw herself into her work, there was years of data and information stored in the various ecopoints around the world. Not strictly working within Overwatch but still having to get permission from the UN to access the sites, this was made even more complicated by the fact she was declared dead. She had to work, if she stopped she would think, then dwell, then sink into despair. She had no family left, her sister had grieved and moved on with her life. Her mother had passed away whilst Mei slept and her own father no longer recognized her and murmured that his little Xiǎoxuě was gone as he rocked back and forth in his room in the nursing home.

So she had worked and travelled, occasionally checking in with Winston who urged her to always let him know where she was. She had put this down to guilt on his part as head of science in Overwatch. She had never confronted her feelings on blame. She buried them, donning her well known cheerful optimistic persona, and worked. It wasn't until her friend Dr Angela Ziegler had called her, telling her to look at a recent article in the news from Greece. A former Overwatch agent had been found murdered at their family home. Further research showed they were not the only former agents killed. She had angrilly called Winston demanding answers, now realizing why he needed to know where she was. She and other agents were potentially marked people. For all Mei knew she was walking around with a target painted on her. It was a long and an emotional call, Mei also learning that Commander Morrison and Captain Amari were both alive and moving against Talon.

Mei didn't want to be involved in a war. She joined Overwatch for scientific purposes, to better the world and preserve it for future generations. Now being an unassuming climatologist for Overwatch had potentially put a mark on her head. Now she was urged to go to Gibraltar where past agents answering the call could work against a terrorist organization and the looming threat of a second crisis brewing in Russia. New recruits had even been silently brought in based on merit and skill. The Mech fighter Hana song, newly recovered from injuries sustained whilst single handedly fighting omnics. Lúcio Correia dos Santos, a freedom fighter, revolutionary leader and musician. Aleksandra Zaryanova, Sergeant within the Russian defence forces and former Athlete. Brigitte Lindholm had come with Reinhardt and was a highly skilled armourer. Fareeha Amari had also travelled to Gibraltar and had stayed despite a heated argument with her Mother. Even two Omnics Zenyatta and Bastion had joined their ranks. All fighters, all skilled combatants. Mei was no soldier. She could barely call herself a fighter. She was a scientist and she felt useless here, cut off from the eco points and only so much data to work from.

Still, at least she was safe here. Wasn't she?

She looked at the clock, 03:55. It had taken her nearly an hour to settle after her nightmare. A few more hours and she would be in the morning briefing. She moved her hand along her bedside table feeling for the small lamp and turned it on, squinting slightly at the sudden light. She put on her glasses and picked up her tablet, absentmindedly scrolling through the latest news, a headline caught her eye of the two criminal Junkers who had apparently blown up a corporate building in Sydney, their whereabouts now unknown. She gave a soft ‘hmph!’ They had travelled the globe near as much as she had. How on earth had they not been apprehended yet?

‘How long before ‘you’ are apprehended?’ Her mind asked. She ignored the question and continued to scroll through headlines...An interview with LumeriCo CEO Guillermo Portero… Speculation on Dva’s ‘supposed’ dismissal from duty...Lucio’s cancelled tour...Tensions in Russia, a climbing death toll…murders….

Mei sighed. She was still emotionally charged and worrying news would not help her relax. She shivered slightly and pulled her cover back over herself, settling back into bed and began playing a silly game on the tablet. It wasn't long before she fell back into an uneasy sleep.

Jack Morrison walked into the 07:00 morning briefing and looked around the room. Winston was talking to Fareeha who stifled a yawn. To her left Lucio, Hana and Lena avidly spoke about a race around the watchpoint. Jack noted to maybe nip that in the bud before someone breaks their neck. Next to them was Mei, sitting quietly holding her tea in both hands, smiling politely when Angela sat down beside her. Torbjorn was sitting back in his chair, both hands folded on his stomach as he dozed, grumbling a curse as McCree used his prosthetic to light his match for his cigar then proceeded to put both feet up in from of him. Zarya gave him a distasteful look from across the table.

‘This isn't enough’ He thought to himself. A team of barely twenty people with very limited resources operating under the radar against a large, well funded, terrorist organization. And things were only getting worse. He cleared his throat and the chatter died down, eyes turning to him.

‘Good morning, as you know those not here are currently on assignment and will be due back soon. We are still pursuing leads in Iraq, Western Africa and Russia, however we need new intelligence before assigning any agents to the field there. I won't have anyone going in blind whilst we are this limited. Now, I called this meeting this morning because my sources have traced known Talon agents moving across Australia.’

Jack turned on the large projection in the centre of the rounded table bringing up a map of Australia and highlighting towns and cities of the sightings.

‘Now..we have a pattern. They are moving purposely, town to town. It's my belief that they are following these two…’ Jack brought up two photos of the Junkers Mei had read about much earlier that morning. ‘...If you are not aware who these two are, The one in the mask is Mako ‘Roadhog’ Ruthlege. Mercenary for hire and Killer. The other, possibly more dangerous one is Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes. Demolition and explosives expert. Both from the settlement called Junkertown in the Australian outback. After their little crime spree around the world both touched down In Adelaide. They've certainly been keeping quiet until totalling a building in Sydney. Since then they have been on the move, coincidently being in the same areas as Talon. Whether they have been hired by Talon or being followed I have yet to learn. But what I do know is either way I want them in. They Are too dangerous to let Talon have and if Talon do want them than I want to know why..yes Jesse?’

McCree had lazily raised his arm to speak. His gave his cigar a long drag before he spoke. ‘I know of these boys Jack, got a pretty bounty on their heads. Now they’ve slipped through every sheriff in every countries fingers. What makes you think we can find them?’

‘Genji is currently in Darwin northern Australia, he's been surveying theirs and Talons movements for over a week, he’s been using old contacts who are less than savoury but they had the information on where they may be. He’s sure he’s got a location down. A team will be on route tonight.’

Winston cleared his throat ‘Err..Commander Morrison? Surely If Talon wanted to hire them they would have approached them by now? It seems a great deal of effort to track them the length of the country. What could they possibly want from them?’

‘Maybe they want more firepower?’ Suggested Torbjorn.

‘No they got plenty o’ that’ said McCree, stubbing out his cigar on his prosthetic hand ‘I heard a rumor from an old Aussie bounty hunter looking for those two..he told me the kid supposedly found something in the Omnium ruins. Something valuable.

Zarya scoffed ‘Anything shiny is valuable to those scavengers. Its nothing’

‘Regardless,’ continued Jack ‘We get to them before Talon does. Myself, McCree, Winston and Lena will be leaving tonight. We’ll rendezvous with Genji at his location, find them and bring them here.’

‘Here?’ asked Fareeha in a worrying tone ‘Im sorry commander but is that a good idea? You want two criminals who take fun in destroying things..here?'

Zarya nodded in agreement. ‘They bad people, you bring them here this whole base blow sky high.’

‘We have a lot of valuable equipment and wouldn't our data be at risk if-’ Began Mei, until Hana thrust her arm in the air for attention.

‘Ooo ooo! Can I ask them about the Mech fights they have?’

Lucio laughed ‘They’re not here to hang Hana.’

‘Have you seen those things Lu? All spikes and flamethrowers and then there's the undefeated champion called Wrecking ball and no one knows what he-’

Winston coughed getting the young girls attention whilst pointedly looking at Jack who stood with a look on his face that suggested his patience was wearing very thin.

Hana gave an apologetic grin ‘Opps, sorry’ she whispered and settled back into her seat.

Jack sighed. The scars on his face taut as he frowned.

‘Talon wants them so I want them’ Said Jack with a steel stubbornness ‘They can choose to cooperate and come quietly or kick and scream, I don't care. What I do care about is knowing Talons next move. Once I get the information I want then I’ll toss them to the authorities. Any more questions?’

If there was no one spoke. Jack grunted.

‘Good. Those going we leave at 12:00 hours and with good time touching down at 22:00 hours, prepare yourselves and the Orca. Lena I want you to make sure stealth and auto modes are good for flight.’

Lena saluted ‘Aye aye!’

‘Everyone staying here, wait on your orders. Amari is due back tonight, should our mission in Australia be successful or not we will debrief on return, but for now you are all dismissed.'

The room began to empty slowly as Jack stayed behind, seemingly studying the holographic map in front of him. He glanced towards the door as the final person left, watching it shut completely. Once he knew he was alone he turned off the large projection and brought up a smaller screen in front of him. He types in a code, a small ping noise signalling granted access. Jack glanced at the door again, then proceeds to type on the interactive screen in front of him. He was contacting someone.

:Are you sure they are at the location you gave me?

He typed He stared at the screen, waiting on a reply. Another glance toward the door. What felt like an eternity passed when finally a return message popped up on screen.

:You know it's polite to say hello first?

Jack grunted, and swore under his breath. He was not in the mood for games.

:Is the location correct? :……………

He waited.

:I am offended you have to ask… :(

As Jack began to type a rather angry reply another message appeared on screen.

:Location correct. Keep your Ninja on visual. Strike team moving tonight. Time unknown.

:Why these two?

:The Tank is disposable. They want Fawkes. I don't know why.

:Anything else?

:I give it two days before you try to kill him.

:Anything important?

:No, but do let me know why Talon wants him.Did I tell you no one wants to tell me anything here? I feel so left out and the big bosses are very angry after your cowboy got involved in the great train heist. Whatever he threw into the canyon was vital.

:Just do your job. Both of them.

:Oh how you two sound so alike.

:I mean it. And be careful.

:Im offended. You know one slip up and i'm dead? Dr Lucky charms will do the deed herself. Now she really doesn't like me.

:Signing out

:Wait!

:What is it?

:….You know it's polite to say goodbye!!

Jack signed out hoping it was as passive aggressive as it possible could be, deleting the message file as he had done for years and turned off the projection. He stood for a moment as if deep in thought before sighing deeply and walking to the door, letting it softly shut behind him.

#overwatch #meihem #jamison fawkes #mei ling zhou #junkrat #fanfic

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keepyourpantsongohan · 5 years

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Operation Scary Date

A collaboration by @sloaners and myself for Sloaners’ Disastrous Discord’s spring event, based on the Terribly Romantic Prompt, “[Character] gets cursed by a ridiculous artifact and the cure is not much better with Love Epiphany.” Art by sloaners, writing by keepyourpantsongohan.

YOU MATCHED WITH TOBI ON TUESDAY.

Tobi: cum 2 my castle tonite

Yamato: Hello to you too. Can I ask about the pictures? It’s hard to see what you look like.

Tobi: ull see what i look like soon enough

Yamato: You’re kinda weird. Lucky I like that. Where do you live?

Tobi: the woods

Yamato: I’m going to bet you don’t get a lot of matches on here, huh?

Tobi: why would u say that

—

YOU MATCHED WITH TOBI ON TUESDAY.

Tobi: cum 2 my castle tonite

Isobu: strong opener; convince me.

Tobi: i can be a beast in my chambers

Isobu: if I had a gold coin for every time I heard that, I could put myself through knight school again.

Tobi: im... tall? and we matched so u must think im good-looking

Isobu: fair. where am I supposed to find this castle, anyway?

Tobi: the woods in the north under the light of the full moons glare at dusk Isobu: that’s oddly specific Tobi: everyones a critic

—

YOU MATCHED WITH TOBI ON TUESDAY.

Tobi: cum 2 my castle tonite

Sukea: okay.

Tobi: wait what just like that?

Sukea: yeah. is that a problem?

Tobi: no i mean... good. this is all according to plan

Sukea: that’s kind of a weird thing to say.

Tobi: im new at this

Sukea: dating, or talking to other people?

Tobi: pass. north woods at 8?

Sukea: i might be late. there are black cats in those woods, and i’d hate to cross their paths.

Tobi: dont worry about time. we will have plenty of it soon

Sukea: do you always talk to your dates this way?

Tobi: pretty much

—

The third time Rin’s mace gets stuck in a tree branch, she wonders if it was entirely a good decision to let Kakashi make her Kindling profile.

There’s something to be said for quality screening, and the type of images one displays on their profile says a lot for who might be drawn to match. She didn’t even take a good look at her alias before they began their attempts to swipe through every enchanted being in their area. While Rin has always considered her taste in partners a little bit out there, it’s never been quite so literal before. One league back, she swears she heard the voice of a man yelling from above.

This better be a good date, Rin thinks, whacking some of the foliage out of her face.

“It helps if you go under instead of through,” says a voice behind her.

Startled, Rin turns around. “Tenzō?”

Partly obscured by the denseness of the woods, she sees her friend wave at her. “I didn’t expect to see anyone else here tonight.”

“Me either,” Rin says, bending and reaching out a hand to pull him forward. The forest seems happy to bend around him, twisting to make room for him to stand beside her. “You’re not Tobi, are you? There were a lot of masks and odd lighting choices.”

Tenzō’s eyebrows disappear under his face plate. “Tobi?”

“My date,” she explains.

He folds his arms, making a speculative noise. “Mine too,” Tenzō replies, narrowing his eyes.

“Sleaze, or trap?” Rin asks.

“What time is your date?”

“A quarter after the eighth hour.”

With a sigh, Tenzō declares, “Sleaze. My date’s at half past. A decent kidnapper would make sure his victims wouldn’t cross paths.”

Rin shrugs. “Doesn’t say much for his dating strategy either. How smart can you really be to meet up with so many dates at the same location? And who’d choose to be in these woods, anyway?”

“We’re here,” Tenzō points out with a dry look.

Grinning, Rin replies, “Yes, well, we think Kakashi’s handsome. No one ever said anything good about our taste.”

“I wonder how his date is going,” Tenzō muses, laughing. “Better than ours I hope.”

Rin’s smile fades as a heavy wind from the sky catches her attention. A great dragon bears down upon them, hurtling unevenly as if it has just grown its wings overnight. She raises her voice to be heard over the rustling trees. “Definitely better than ours. Is it just me or does the cloak on that dragon look familiar?”

“Trap,” says Tenzō apologetically, as a set of claws wrap around his waist.

—

“So… does he do this often?” Kakashi asks, carefully balancing the next piece on top of his tower.

The creature responds with a, “Be quiet, brat,” from beneath his heavy pile of robes. Kakashi suspects the garment is mostly for show. Whoever’s underneath shifts their weight too much to be all that big. But then again, the dragon had caught him off-guard, so perhaps his instincts are a little off tonight.

“You know, I might’ve come upstairs anyway,” Kakashi tells him. “If he’d asked me nicely.”

When no response is given, Kakashi continues, stacking piece after jenga piece by himself.

“That’s traditionally how the date thing is done. First conversation, then we decide if we want to spend the night together. He must be very out of practice.”

His companion mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“We don’t need a chaperone,” Kakashi points out helpfully. “I promise. I’m a very respectful date… what did the other one call you? Kakuzu?”

His question is met with a groan of disapproval, which Kakashi takes to mean ‘yes.’ “Kakuzu,” he says, in the same reasonable voice he uses when tutoring his students, “You seem tired. Really, I’m fine here. Where would I go?”

He gestures to their surroundings. The single window has nothing below it but a moat, and there are no other points of entry. Kakashi’s thought of at least thirty plans of escape, and for twenty-nine and a half of them, he doesn’t like his odds.

“Listen, if it’s the money you’re worried about… I have some gold on me. It seems like we’ll be staying in tonight, anyway.”

Kakuzu’s posture shifts at the mention of payment. Bingo.

Kakashi throws his coin purse, and tries not to blink at the distinctly claw-like hands that grab it. His plans for observation go out the window with Kakuzu when he realizes his bodyguard is hoisting himself across the bricks with hundreds of thick grey tendrils attached to his body.

He sighs, and begins searching the tower.

If Kakashi had to guess the personality of the chamber’s owner based on his belongings, he wouldn’t know where to start. In the closet he finds at least twelve different shades of the same cape. Looking underneath the bed yields a startlingly life-like statue of a man cast half in black and half in white that Kakashi swears is winking at him. He moves onto the desk quickly after that.

The book he finds in it reads, in bold lettering, DO NOT TOUCH, which seems promising. There are dogs on the cover. That seems promising too.

Tenzō and Rin are probably laughing at me somewhere, he thinks, as he pulls it into his grasp.

The crash from the window is not nearly as disconcerting as the beam of blinding light that follows.

—

“That is not how you greet a date,” says Tenzō, affronted.

Kakashi gapes. “Tenzō? Rin? What are you doing here?”

Brushing himself off, Tenzō shrugs. “Being attacked by a dragon. Why are you here?”

“I’m on a date,” Kakashi explains. He looks at the cloaked figure still upturned on the floor. “With him, I think.”

Rin nudges Tobi with her boot. “You arranged a date with all three of us on the same night?”

Tenzō looks heavenward. “Is that really what we’re mad about?”

Rin and Kakashi look at each other, and then nod at Tenzō. “A little, yeah.”

“I, for one, would like to know who we’re dealing with,” Tenzō remarks, crouching down by their host’s face. He pulls a spade out from his robes, and prods him sharply in the side. When this elicits no response, Tenzō rolls the man over.

Two intakes of breath punctuate the motion. “Rin,” says Kakashi urgently.

“I didn’t know either,” she replies. Shifting forward, Rin places a hand on Tenzō’s shoulder. “I’ll heal him.”

Tenzō rises, glancing between his two companions. The room is silent but for the sound of Rin's healing magic and the slight creaking of the door. “You know him?”

“It’s Obito,” says Kakashi.

“Obito, your old and dead teammate? That Obito?”

“I’m not dead,” says Obito, sitting up abruptly with the aid of Rin’s healing magic. Tenzō yelps.

Kakashi feels a little lightheaded. “We need to talk.”

—

Reconciled to the fact this evening is going to make no sense at all, Kakashi extends a hand to Obito. After a moment of hesitation, Obito takes it. There is a warmth between their fingertips that Kakashi takes to be familiarity, until suddenly, where there was empty space, there’s a small dog that Kakashi lunges to catch.

“Well hello, are you lost?” Kakashi asks, once the puppy is cradled in his arms. The Chow Chow merely tucks itself under Kakashi’s chin, which is a better answer than he could’ve expected.

Tenzō elbows him, careful not to jostle the animal. “What, you’re finally showing us what your powers are? Right here?”

Rin levels him with a doubtful look. “I have a hard time believing you could make infinite dogs and you limited yourself to eight. Konoha should be overrun with wagging tails by now.”

Shaking his head, Kakashi replies, “I didn’t make him appear.” He pauses, looking at Obito. “At least, I don’t think I did? Obito?”

Obito’s eyes narrow, and then widen. “You read my diary,” he says suddenly, with surprising indignation for a man who has confessed to running a magical terrorist ring.

“Diary?” Kakashi repeats, adjusting his grip on the dog. When his fingers touch, there’s twice as many puppies in his arms as before. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Grabbing the book still lying open upon his desk, Obito shows them the same cover Kakashi had been inspecting earlier. “Anyone who lays a hand on this journal aside from me becomes overwhelmed by beasts!”

“They do look ferocious,” Rin teases, scratching the second dog behind the ears.

Obito eyes the scene, uncertain. “Curses aren’t an exact science! The book knows what it’s meant to do.”

Tenzō steps closer to Obito, considering him. “If you’re so worried about what’s going to happen to Kakashi, then take the curse off of him.”

Obito hesitates. “Wizards... are supposed to stand by their principles.”

This time, it’s Rin who steps closer, boxing Obito in. “You don’t know how to reverse the spell, do you?” she asks, trying not to laugh.

“Curses aren’t an exact science,” Obito says again, defensively.

A groan echoes throughout the room from his former teammates. “Why would you use an enchantment you don’t know how to break?” Kakashi asks, while the dogs try to climb up his shoulders. Three, now, as he reaches out to steady one with both hands.

“If it stumps me, it should stump all of my enemies.”

Tenzō puts his head in his hands. “I hate that he’s starting to make sense to me.”

“It happens sometimes,” Kakashi says sympathetically. The long-suffering tone is belied by the puppy licking his cheek above his mask.

—

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Obito asks, clearing his throat for the third time since they’ve arrived. “Doesn’t Minato-sensei have a family now? Should we really be bothering him with this kind of thing?”

“It’s not our fault you broke Kakashi,” Tenzō mutters under his breath. They’ve improvised leashes for the dogs out of some of his gardening supplies, and dogs, which now number four, are mostly under his rein, though they keep tugging forward to approach Kakashi. One dog remains in Kakashi’s hands, thankfully keeping them occupied.

Kakashi opens his mouth, perhaps to argue the point of this curse being so terrible. However, whatever he is about to say is interrupted by the door opening to reveal a blond man in robes that look they belong more at a discotheque than at a ritual.

“So, what brings you kids here?” Minato asks, smiling broadly. “It’s unlike you to come for a visit unannounced.”

Kakashi and Rin shuffle aside so their final companion is clearly visible. “Obito?” Minato asks, gaping.

—

“That is quite the problem,” Minato muses, a hand at his chin. “It’s not a spell I’ve ever heard of before. And you have absolutely no idea how to counter it?”

Eyes turn to Obito once more, and he shakes his head. Kakashi sighs. “We were hoping you would know, sensei.”

“I know a few general counter-curses, but I suspect they won’t help in this situation. They’re for less powerful spells, like warts, or being turned into a frog. That second one’s surprisingly common, you know.”

Rin’s brow furrows. “Then there’s nothing we can do? Kakashi’s going to need to use his hands at some point.”

“I didn’t say that,” says Minato, with a knowing smile. “It’s common for some magical beings to cancel out a spell by using one that uses the same underlying magic. So in this case, it’s possible for us to free Kakashi by finding a curse of equal measure. Did you know that my teleportation magic is derivative of a curse?”

“Isn’t dealing with unfamiliar curse magic what brought us here in the first place?” Tenzō asks.

Minato tilts the brim of his hat. “It all depends on the strength of the spell Obito used. If he used a spell that’s stronger than my curse, then we’ll have to look for another answer.”

—

“And a second curse was supposed to have helped?” gripes Kakashi, clutching his forehead. “Now I can’t control where I go! This can’t be good for the dogs.”

“Well, there’s one other solution to your predicament,” says Minato, with a pensive gaze. “True love’s kiss.”

Kakashi looks pointedly at the ceiling. “If I were in love, why would I be on a dating app?” he asks, aware of four separate gazes on him. Well, eight, if he counts the dogs.

Minato shrugs, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you are, I’m just saying that it’s a method to break a curse.”

“Have you ever tried it?” Obito asks skeptically.

With a pointed look, Minato rejoins, “I usually memorize the counter-curse before I try out a new spell, Obito.” The younger man reddens, and glances around the room like the criticism might be directed at someone else. Minato stifles a laugh.

“You should try, Kakashi,” Rin says decidedly. “It’s better than not doing anything.”

Kakashi makes a startled noise. “Who are you suggesting I kiss?”

She shrugs, and gestures between her, Tenzō, and Obito. “Take your pick.”

The range of expressions Kakashi manages to convey with only his eyes in that minute is thoroughly impressive. His eyes linger on each of them, before he shakes his head. “I’m not going to choose between my friends,” Kakashi says firmly.

Obito huffs. “Then I’ll do it,” he says, reaching for Kakashi. Kakashi looks at him in him in surprise. “I broke you, I should fix you,” Obito adds, with a wry look at Tenzō.

Kakashi sighs. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” Flushing, he adds to Minato, “Can you…?” Dutifully, Minato turns around and covers his ears.

He lets Obito pull him closer, and adds to Rin and Tenzō, “Hold onto us. If this doesn’t work, I don’t want to end up stuck in Minato-sensei’s ceiling.”

And so, with Tenzō at his back, and Rin at Obito’s, Kakashi closes the gap between them. With his lips brushing Obito’s, he reaches blindly for one of the hands at his side, and smiles when nothing happens.

Then, the ground is pulled out from under them.

—

“What happened to Obito and Tenzō?” Kakashi asks, trying to peer around the pumpkin.

A very loud, familiar voice, echoes through the room. “I’m Tenzō,” says the pumpkin, and Kakashi and Rin nearly jump out of their skin.

Carefully, they make their way to the other side of him. Sure enough, as if he were a jack-o-lantern, there is a vague impression of their friend’s features, along with a tuft of brown hair. The small frown is so characteristic of Tenzō that for a moment, Kakashi feels more normal and at ease than he has all night. Unwittingly, he imagines Tenzō in his own garden, and tries not to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” says Tenzō, even though it is.

Rin reaches out to pat his orange cheek. “Well, you make a cuter pumpkin than Obito did a dragon.”

“Hey!” a muffled voice interjects, offended.

Rin steps back to inspect the scene, trying to place the source of the sound. “Obito? Are you in there too?”

“Not quite,” Kakashi observes. He gestures towards the wayward limbs and messy hair sticking out under Tenzō. “Are you alright under there, Obito?”

Obito groans. “I’ve been better,” is his flat reply.

“Is anyone going to try to reverse this spell?” Tenzō demands. “I can’t exactly double up on curses like this.”

“Obito’s lips might already be touching some part of you,” Rin says with a giggle.

Kakashi can’t hold back his smile. “I think it might need to be his face, Rin. Stay there, Tenzō,” says Kakashi, like Tenzō’s not occupying fifty percent of the room.

Pulling down his mask again, Kakashi aims his lips at what he hopes represents Tenzō’s head. Where he touches, it glows, and he can’t tell if it’s the magic or what it looks like for a pumpkin to blush. Through another burst of light, the rough texture of the pumpkin is replaced by Tenzō’s warm skin. Definitely blushing, Kakashi notes, as he hears newly-warped buckles and accessories from Tenzō’s stretched clothing hit the dungeon floor.

When Tenzō recovers his voice, he says, with a hint of orange still in his cheeks, “The first one of you to make a gardening joke is being left in the dungeon.”

TO BE CONTINUED....

#obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #rin nohara #yamato #yamato tenzo #kakayamaobirin #(you read that right folks)#if ur confused... GOOD #NO EXPLANATION REQUIRED #ayesha talks anime #sloaners #fanart #fanfiction #mine #long post #collaboration #operation scary date #discord

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bluepenguinstories · 4 years

Text

Intention Headaches Chapter Ten

Silence in the barroom.

Everyone, a cold hush. The chill of saltwater. Nobody ordered the taffy bourbon, it was due to go out of style.

Continued silence.

Few minutes earlier, there was an incident, but just one:

Groaning and moaning, a little in mourning. Befuddled man spoke with confidence words almost too slurred to deliver.

“That last one was an overkill, eh? I mean, the whole thing. It left a bit of a bitter taste. Li’l funny, admittedly, but sheesh!”

Everyone lifted their heads just a few centimeters high, then faces low. No one spoke, only signaling agreement.

“Anyway, bartender, how about another?”

Bartender, man about duty as he was, shook head like the blenders in the tattoo parlor.

“No, I agree. Was overkill. Think you’ve had quite enough.”

“Oh, come on! You’re the bartender! All drinks are given to all gang members regardless of affiliation!”

“No more drinks for you, Mr. Waits. Lest we have to clean up the mess on our new minted floors.”

The establishment, home for the disordered and chaotic, was in full order once again. That metallic appearance a thing of the past, unpleasant; though the sign outside may be neon, inside were wooden floor boards, with the new addition of a chrome static finish, so the environment would feel both like a tavern, saloon, or, of course, the bar. But the environment served as well as a source of energy; deploying domesticated termite machines to build the infrastructure of an automated simulation.

Afterward from an explanation and the departure of the binge of waiting, the sight of a solitary squatter on a table made for two caught the attention of two at the counter.

One of the two to the lady with the hair spikes and little else but an image: “Hey Elaine, what you doin’ alone?”

Looked up, not to ceiling or sky. Previous sights on table.

“Just felt like it.” Entrenched words from the very same Elaine, who held the two time record of having a six-letter name.

One of the other gang members, of a gang that made little difference. Woolf? Sexton? Let’s stay on topic, call it gucci. Gucci gang member, the one who didn’t speak prior, now spoke: “Don’t you usually hang around someone, though? What was his name again? Rodney? Rooney?”

“Riley,” a one word line delivery.

“Ah, yeah! That’s the one! Why you ain’t with ‘im?”

“The guy died. Stepped on a landmine during a gang war and got electrocuted. Think it was last week?”

“Oh! So sorry!”

Cracked laughter tore through the egg of Elaine. Egg was a yolk called a mouth which rested gently below the nose, but on many an occasion, opened up to reveal a cavernous system.

“Kinda funny, really! We in the Plaths always called him ‘Turtle’ because he always carried that big ol’ backpack full of surprises! So it’s like a turtle stepped on a landmine!”

Fist slammed on the table, an uproar of humor crafted from the aforementioned cavern.

No one else laughed. All else bore the gift of silence.

“Well, I thought it was funny,” Elaine looked away, possibly toward a more crowded gang of various gangs. Amore!

“But Elaine, weren’t you two friends? How could you laugh?”

“You’d have to have been there! His whole body got burnt to a crisp and I could see electricity crackling! You could stick a fork next to him, or a marshmallow!”

Again, and for the effect of repetition, no one else laughed.

“We all know the risks, it was bound to happen. Part of the Plath pact is that we rush headfirst into the heat of battle. Bud just held up the pact, and so it happened.”

“But aren’t you sad?”

“Are any of us sad? We just lost an entire gang the other day. Cranes. No one want to talk about them? Is it ‘cause they were poets? Well, anyway, if you insist on such a meandering topic, I’ll give a call for celebration.” Whistle signal to bartender flared. “DRINKS FOR EVERYONE! HERE’S TO RILEY!”

Soon the crowded silence crowded around the table of Elaine, upheld silence.

One and one, the two, congregated to the crowd in the room. The two guys who had been speaking. Yes, they had names, but it went without saying (not that their names were obvious or that there were any indication, rather the names were so incidental and forgettable that it went without saying what their names were). One upended the conversation:

“You two were best friends, right?”

Elaine drank. After a courageous belch, gave commemoration.

“Sure, but I’ve been in this game long enough. Lost plenty of friends, and some day, someone will lose me. That’s just the life we have here.”

“Say, wasn’t Riley not originally from here?”

“Indeed. Asked him about it one time back at the base, just him and I. I was like ‘Hey Riley, what was the outside world like? How did you manage to make your way here?’ You know what he told me?”

Silent faces turned side-by-side.

“He told me, he said, ‘Elaine, why does the chicken cross the road?’ I didn’t know how to answer, so I said ‘I don’t know, man, why does the chicken cross the road?’ You know what he told me? He said, ‘don’t look at me! I ain’t no chicken. Listen. I do what I do ‘cause I do it. That’s how it’s always been with me. I’ll live because I live and I’ll die because I’ll die. There ain’t much more to me.”

Ooh’s and Aah’s, round of applause, Elaine again with the drinking.

“Pretty much the same with me, I suppose. Same with all of us. Sure, who’d want to live like a place like this where someone constantly dies? But that’s our life. If I could choose another life, I could’ve been a ballerina, learned shorthand, or been a burlesque dancer. I don’t know what any of those are, but I’ve heard of such things from random parsing through neural manuscripts.”

“True enough! I often forget the names of all the people I chat with cause they usually die the next day!” Hearty laugh from one of the two guys. Were they the same two guys as last time?

Question never minded, the with the bat steps to the heels and the thundering cackles cracked, an electrifying entrance.

“How dare you disrespect the dead?!” Mother of Sexton pointed her crone finger every which way. Elaine, who knew the way, could address the one with the entrance.

“How could you know whether or not I’m disrespecting him? He’s dead, I can’t ask his opinion. Maybe he wants us to celebrate in this way.”

“You still show disrespect! Cracking jokes and trampling over the very concept! Those were people’s lives, who could very well not have wanted their fates to be that way! And you, you find levity?”

“Bah,” bitter, sour tongue. Elaine took a swig, a gulp and a set, mouth open once again. “I choose not to dwell on the dead. It doesn’t do any of us any good.”

“Wrong again! You can learn a great deal from the dead!”

“Oh yeah? Wanna know what happens when you talk to a skeleton? You know what the skeleton says? Nothing. Because the dead cannot speak. All you have to learn is that they have ceased to be.”

“Ah, but they do speak. Listen to their bones and what came before. The ashes and their power. It fills me. After all, death itself is life.”

“Again, I choose not to dwell on the dead. Does none of us any good. All it does is make you obsess. You wanna know what led someone to such an end? What it means for them? ‘Surely, there must be a reason. Imagine if they could’ve been saved’, you must ask yourself. ‘what can we learn from this?’. I’ll tell you: nothing. You can speculate all you wish, but leave me out of it. I’ll learn what I can from what exists and live while I’m alive. That’s what I’ve chosen.”

“Such disrespect!”

“You wanna tell me about disrespect? The one who respects the very concept of women?”

No answer given. Only a storm that passed, damage restoration.

At the usual counter comes the kid elderly, Ernie. Sipping wine or champagne, relinquished lamentation.

“Crane gone. I also partake in men. I was craven. My shotgun could have salvaged some. Had I the knowledge.”

“Mm. Just as Elaine said: it happens to us all. Your truths and your falsehoods, they become trivial in the face of it all. Faction and fiction, death knows no discrimination.”

Hemingway drank a heavy shot. Down the chin, it went.

“Well known knowledge. Knowledge of the war remains. Absence of the Crane as an entire entity, signifies return.”

“Return of what, dear friend?” Spoke tender, the wiper of the glass.

“War.”

“As a bartender, I can neither confirm nor deny that. My duties lie in preserving the one place of neutrality.”

Neutrality may seem in the center of it all, but the true point is zero. Move two spaces to the X-axis, two spaces down, into the negatives, lies Plath leader, hands on head. Beside her, down west, Virginia.

“What’s wrong, my fellow woman?”

Plath with the aching head, but only from within.

“It’s the hospital...they did something to me...but I can’t remember…”

“Why now do you think of this?”

“Because I want to know! I feel myself slipping, but I can’t recall what happened last time! What did they take from me to make me like this?”

“Take or give? I have gone there rather often each time I reach peak madness. They give me something.”

“Yes! You were there with me! Tell me! What do you remember?”

“I was cured. I don’t remember of what. I know they treated me. Yes. Oh dear. I may have to go back.”

“No. None of us goes and finds it; when they sense our illness, they take us back. But if I could just remember what happened. It hurts so much. It was like a pain I’ll never know of! That’s why…”

Passed by. Sexton once again. Laughed. Her own form of respect.

“Oh my, my, my. You have forgotten your hospital visit?”

“Yes! Do you remember yours?”

“Of course. I recorded it. They taught me a great many things.”

“What did they teach you?”

“Death and all that surrounds it.” Her grin was a shadow when compared to the bright spot above her forehead. “I’ll even let you listen.”

Chip was thrown, just as it would have had it been an explosive die (the singular form of dice). After Sibylline Sylvie stressed the sweaty palm, the index finger went to work and clicked. It all played to her ears, her ears alone. Her own.

Within the mind, recording went as follows, an interview:

Doctor: What brings you in today?

Sexton: I am afraid of reaching an end.

Doctor: Administer the shock.

[Electricity Crackles]

Doctor: What brings you in today?

Sexton: The hospital itself.

Doctor: Correct. Do you know the process?

Sexton: Yes.

Doctor: Do you fear death?

Sexton: Yes.

Doctor: Do you wish for immortality?

Sexton: No.

Doctor: Do you fear an end?

Sexton: Yes.

Doctor: Do you believe that children are the future?

[No answer]

Doctor: Do you believe that children are the future?

[Shock administered]

Doctor: Do you believe children are the future?

Sexton: I despise children.

Doctor: Think of them as an extension. If you wish not to see an end, repeat the process. Create them like any other invention. Like a weapon. Do you remember who came before you?

Sexton: Yes.

Doctor: She was you, once. Make a child that can become you and you will never reach an end. Understand?

Sexton: Yes.

Doctor: Do you believe that children are the future?

Sexton: Yes.

– Recording ended –

Such was the mother Sexton’s treatment. Silvery scent sent the chip away. Such a cross toss. As for the parent herself, she laughed. Her voice carried over the merriment.

Slipped past the crowd, Sylvie stroked over the silence, right where Elaine sat.

“What I heard confirms it,” she told Elaine, lower in her voice than her own posture. “Karen gave us our next mission. Was a simple one. I will accept.”

“What is it?” Elaine, humble in her ignorance.

“To find the artifact known as The Bell Jar. With it, our gang shall surely flourish.”

“You should refuse.”

“What? How could you?”

“I don’t think you’re in the right condition.”

“Even with us separated, you still act like you have a say in it!”

“If you don’t want me around, kick me out. I’ll respect it.”

“No!” Her own throat a tinny sore. “I cannot keep you with me, but I cannot let you go too far!”

“Ladies, ladies,” a man in the Plaths. “You’re both pretty.”

Elaine snapped. Five fingers, in a twist. “That’s true, but not the matter at hand!”

Already angered, Sylvie stormed away, stood tall and took off. Before through the door, declared: “I will accept! I am the leader! I am! I am! I am!”

Some Plaths looked toward Elaine, whose name was six letters long. “What will you do about this?”

Six letter word shrugged.

“She said she’ll accept.”

“Yeah, but you seemed against it.”

“Indeed. Let me finish my drink. It’s last call.”

“Then, after bartender sacks us?”

“I’ll have a smoke.”

No further on the subject. One last drink for good ol’ times before the neon sign sparked ‘Closed’ on the door outside. Bartender needn’t say a word.

#intention headaches #writing #stories #prose #grimdark #death #horror #psychological horror #cyberpunk #bar scene #mortality #tom waits #sylvia plath

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lady-therion · 5 years

Note

Im a huge Nessian stan and your fanfics are incredible. Do you think Nesta will take the blood right? I know its stretch because she's not Illarian but it was talked about a lot in acofas and I could see it happening esp if she would do it to spite them and they would allow it (the clans) as a way to get rid of her, I can see them hate her and I can see her throwing it right back. How do you think Cass would react, esp after he told Az they would't mess with the right but also terrified for her.

Thank you, anon! This is a very interesting question that sparked some deep thoughts, so hold on to your britches:

Before we can speculate on Nesta’s participation, I think it’d be worth recapping what we know so far about the Blood Rite:

We know that it’s a coming-of-age ritual that is specific to Illyrian culture. Warrior-novices who are eligible are definitely 1) Illyrian and 2) male.

Azriel also describes it as a senseless loss of life; a killing season where grudges and feuds are settled in blood. This ritual was likely created to weed out the weak and to make sure that resources are allocated to the strongest and most cunning (who would go on to sire new generations of pedigreed warriors, etc.).

It’s also apparently so rigorous and physically demanding that the three most powerful Illyrians in history had to work together to make it to Mt. Ramiel—and that was only through teamwork and sheer force of will.

Since Nesta is neither 1) Illyrian, 2) a male, and 3) has made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want to train (or pick up a sword and make herself sweaty much to Cassian’s disappointment), the likelihood of her participation is pretty low.

On the off-chance that she was somehow allowed to participate (either as a way for her to prove herself or as a way for the clans to get rid of a nuisance), I can see Cassian being terrified, sure. But I can also see him translating that terror into fifty shades of pure rage.

Rage at either Nesta for thinking her life was meaningless enough to throw herself into the ring, unprepared and outnumbered. Or rage at his fellow Illyrians for putting her in that position. Most likely, it’d be both. He would also do everything in his power to make sure she doesn’t enter. Even if it means taking her place—which is probably what the rebel clans would really want.

Finishing the Blood Rite is not an act of bravery. It’s not a championship where people get rewarded for accomplishment (Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian completed it and still aren’t respected; Cassian didn’t even rise to General until after the first war with humans). This is a brutal ceremony that’s about death, sacrifice, and survival.

I think the Rite will play a big role in the Nessian book. It was talked about enough in ACOFAS that it would be hard to believe it was just a throwaway line, but if anything, I think the Rite will be used as the catalyst for a page-turning, political conspiracy.

It sounds like there’s some trouble brewing in the neighboring clans and there’s plenty of whispers about an uprising. How Nesta will play a role in that is anyone’s guess. But given how crafty and clever she is (this is the girl who casually ran calculations on the ships and supplies needed to ensure human survival, like, in her spare time), her role will probably be more strategic.

And Nesta would fucking smash it as a political strategist. We’re talking about the same girl who went off on a room full of High Lords and called them idiots and cowards to their faces. And not only did they let her, they didn’t entirely disagree.

Remember that war isn’t just fought on the field. If you’re a Game of Thrones fan, recall Littlefinger’s famous speech to Sansa: “Fight every battle everywhere, always, in your mind. Everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening all at once. Live that way and nothing will surprise you. Everything that happens will be something that you’ve seen before.”

So if anything, I hope we’ll get to see Political!Nesta combined with Witch!Nesta (those death powers have to manifest somehow). Someone powerful, formidable—like a goddess of old. Someone the Illyrians would tell campfire stories and sing songs about for centuries to come.

#asks #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #witch nesta

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set-phasers-to-whump · 5 years

Text

whumptober day 29

prompt: numb

whumpee: matt murdock

this got longer than it was supposed to be so im sorry if its a little tedious (also i feel like i didn’t touch on the whump a whole lot??? idk hope this isnt too bad)

“You’re gonna tell us what you know about our little operation.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be persuaded.”

Matt was in a bit of a sticky situation, not an unusual occurrence. What was unusual was that he hadn’t even been looking for trouble. He’d just found himself in it.

Well. He hadn’t gone looking for trouble tonight, anyway. He might’ve brought this trouble upon himself with a half-Nelson & Murdock, half-Daredevil investigation into some extremely shady real-estate deals that he was pretty sure had ties to the mob. But he hadn’t been out searching for anyone tonight. He’d just been walking home from the bar, and then he’d been ambushed by a pedestrian and dragged into an alley.

So. Not the ideal night. But he could make do. There were too many people to fight off at once, but he was fairly certain he could talk his way out of this-he’d been ambushed in his normal clothes, which meant these people only knew him as the lawyer Matt Murdock.

“What is your little operation, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Murdock,” said a man from in front of him.

“Vince Romano, I assume?” Matt asked. He hadn’t yet run across Vince, who was supposedly the real-estate agent in charge of these deals.

“That would be me. And I’m gonna ask again. What do you know about my business?”

“Oh, not much,” Matt said. “You buy buildings, have a crew fix ‘em up, and sell them at higher prices. That is typically how this works, I think.”

Of course, he knew far more than that-these buildings being purchased were being used as a front, he just hadn’t figured out for what. And Romano had several connections to the mob. So it wasn’t typical real-estate business. Not that he’d let Romano know he knew that.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, what do you know?”

“I told you all of it,” Matt replied, sounding bored. “What more do you want?”

“I told you what I want.”

“And I told you what I know.”

“Okay.” And Romano stepped back. The man holding Matt still, however, only tightened his grip. Matt heard something being removed from a container-not a knife, maybe…

A needle jabbed into his arm. He yelped in surprise. “What was that for?”

“For not telling me what I asked.”

“What is it?”

“You don’t need to know. Now. You’re already blind, Mr. Murdock. What I’ve just injected you with is going to numb your entire body. You will lose the sense of touch, then your limbs will cease to function. I have another serum lined up here-” he tapped a glass bottle- “that will take away your other remaining senses after that. Now are you willing to talk?”

Matt shuddered as he felt the serum begin to course through his body. He needed a plan, needed to get out, but he kept thinking of what was about to happen to him-and then it happened, and suddenly his whole body was numb, and his legs gave out from under him. He couldn’t feel his limbs, couldn’t feel the arms that must’ve been holding him up wrapped around him. He tried to move his arms, but found they wouldn’t cooperate. Experimentally, he opened his mouth and said, “I told you what I know,” which came out fairly clearly.

“You really wanna keep beating that horse? I’ll just give you the other serum now then.”

“No!” Matt shouted. “No, no, I’ll-” there was no way out of this- “I’ll tell you.”

“Do go ahead.”

So he divulged all of his information, his speculations, his suspicions. He knew it was a bad idea, but frankly, he’d been out of options-he couldn’t lose all of his senses. And he had no way of knowing if or when the serum would wear off. So he’d made a logical decision. He hated it, hated that he was willing to give up his information for his own sake, but he knew he had to.

“Hm. Not as much as I would have thought. Sure you don’t have any more?”

“That’s really all I know,” Matt said, trying to keep his voice even. “I swear.”

“Funnily enough, I don’t believe you.”

And a second needle was pushed into his arm, and he screamed, but then he couldn’t hear himself scream, and the scents of the city faded away, and he couldn’t taste the slight tang of blood that’d been on his tongue from when he’d been grabbed.

He was aware of being released, and falling to the ground. He didn’t feel the impact, didn’t sense the people leaving, didn’t sense anything at all…

How long he laid there, he wasn’t sure. He was fairly sure he was crying. He might’ve been screaming. He couldn’t tell.

Slowly, however, his sense of hearing returned. Which didn’t help much, except that he could hear the tears dripping off of his face and onto the ground. Then his sense of smell returned, and he could again smell the city, the trash, the salt on his cheeks, the blood in his mouth. Taste then returned, which didn’t do a lot except make him wish it’d go back away, as the metallic taste of blood became evident at the back of his throat.

He still couldn’t feel, couldn’t move. He started really panicking then. What if that first serum had been permanent? What was he supposed to do? He’d guessed that it was early, early morning, perhaps around 3:00. Few people would be out on this block. He couldn’t move, so he couldn’t call anyone...he guessed he was pretty far back in the alley, so nobody would see him. So there was nothing for it-he’d just have to make some noise and hope someone heard him.

“Hello?” he tried calling. Nobody responded.

“I’m in the alley!” he added. Still nothing.

Then his phone rang-Foggy-but of course he couldn’t answer it, since he couldn’t move. He tried frantically to shift his body even a little, to get the phone out of his pocket, but it was hopeless.

His phone rang again. What was Foggy even doing awake so early? Matt wondered.

A horrible thought then occurred to him-what if Vince and his goons had done something to Foggy? What if they’d threatened him? Or worse, what if they’d hurt him, and were using his phone to contact Matt?

The phone rang a third time, then abruptly hung up. Matt sighed and decided to shout for help again. Still nothing.

It was a few minutes before anything happened. Foggy called yet again, and this time, he was able to move his leg-ever so slightly, but he heard it drag against the concrete. He hadn’t been able to feel the movement, which was an extremely strange sensation, but he’d moved!

“Matt!”

“Foggy?”

He heard Foggy’s footsteps as he entered the alley, quickening as Foggy presumably caught sight of him.

“Matt! Thank god you’re okay!”

“Did Vince come to you?”

“What? Yeah, he told me what he did to you, warned me to back off...are you okay?”

“Sort of? I can’t move much and I can’t feel anything, but other than that I’m fine.”

He heard Foggy crouch down beside him, his knees hitting the concrete.

“I’m moving your jacket,” Foggy explained. “It looks...wet.”

Did it? Matt wondered. He hadn’t been able to feel himself get wet, obviously, but this was an alley, he could’ve landed in a puddle…

“Holy shit, Matt, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m what?”

“Bleeding, Matt! Did you not notice?”

“All my senses were gone, Fog. And I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Would’ve thought I’d have bled out by now.”

“It hasn’t been very long,” Foggy said. “Vince just came to me like ten minutes ago.”

Huh. He would have thought it’d been longer.

“Okay, I’m gonna take you to the hospital, alright?”

Matt was often opposed to the hospital, and this occasion was no exception.

“No way. There are way too many things to explain. We don’t want to make Vince more angry at us.”

Foggy hated to admit it, but Matt had a point. “What do you want to do instead, then?” he asked.

“You’ve stitched me up before,” Matt pointed out. “Plus, I can’t feel anything at the moment. So. Win-win.”

It was most definitely not a win-win, but it was something, at least.

“Fine,” Foggy said. They weren’t far from his apartment, so he carefully hefted Matt into his arms, staggering against his weight but managing to stay upright. They arrived back at his house in a few minutes.

Matt still couldn’t feel anything, but he had been pleased to note he could move his legs fully again. He swung them experimentally in Foggy’s arms.

“Stop that,” Foggy muttered. “I’m gonna drop you.”

“I can move my legs again,” Matt pointed out.

“That’s great, but please don’t do it right now. I’m about to climb some stairs and I really don’t need any distractions.”

“Put me down, then. I can walk.”

“Can you?”

“I can move my legs, can’t I?”

But it turned out that being able to move your legs and being able to walk were two separate things, and Matt’s legs crumpled beneath him.

Foggy sighed and picked him up again. The stairs were slow-going, but finally, mercifully, they made it into Foggy’s apartment.

“I’m gonna get my first-aid kit,” Foggy said, setting Matt on his couch. He’d have to wash out the blood at some point, he realised. That would be fun.

Foggy returned with his supplies. He had indeed stitched Matt up before, so he knew what he was doing, and was quickly onto his first stitch.

Of course, the numbness had to wear off in the middle of Foggy’s stitching.

Matt gasped in pain. “Stop! Stop!”

“Not numb anymore?”

“No!”

“I’m almost done, Matt. Just hold on.”

Matt took a shuddering breath, focusing on the feeling that had returned to the rest of his body, instead. Foggy’s couch was soft, his hair was sticky, his clothes were wrinkled and uncomfortable.

And his torso was on fire. Getting stitched up never got any less painful, no matter how many times it happened.

Foggy finished his stitches and quickly disappeared to get some painkillers. Matt took them greedily and laid down, trying to take deep breaths and even out the pain, but failing. Being stabbed was one thing-he’d been stabbed plenty of times before. But losing his senses, being completely unable to do anything...that was new. It was scary.

“It’s okay,” Foggy said softly, reassuringly. A gentle hand brushed his cheek. He hadn’t even been aware he was crying.

“It was so scary...I couldn’t do anything, Foggy! Nothing, just...laid there. I could’ve bled out, and I wouldn’t’ve known a thing.”

Foggy had no words for his friend. He couldn’t imagine how terrible it must’ve been, to lose all sense of...everything like that. To be completely helpless. So he didn’t say anything. He stood up, grabbed a blanket from a chair, laid it over Matt, and sat on the floor in front of him, back to the couch. He reached up and grabbed Matt’s hand.

“It’s over now,” Foggy said. “You’re not numb anymore.”

this kinda sucks, sorry!!! thanks so much if you read it!!

#whumptober2019 #no.29 #numb #sensory deprivation #stabbed #matt murdock #daredevil #my writing #i say things #sorry again this is kinda bad :(#didnt proofread a lot bc i didnt want to sorry for any errors

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bettsfic · 5 years

Note

So i used to be really into kylux and i lived for the fics and i saw tbat u touched on kylix changing in an ask. Can u elaborate on what exactly changed bc i feel the same way and it's why i dont like it much anymore, but im not sure whay exactly changed. Like i still open ao3 sometimes but nothing ever catches me like it used to /////-:

here’s what happens in a lot of fandoms: immediately post-canon, the trendsetting writers flock to it and write a lot of really good fic and build a community. trendsetting writers don’t care about traffic or trends – they see something that has potential and write a fic. these writers tend to be exceptionally gifted, and write some really amazing, boundary-pushing, foundation-laying stuff.

i have tried being a trendsetting writer. i am not. i’m a bandwagon writer, where i see that a fandom is getting some good energy and i join in because i’m looking for friends and community and good fic to read. eventually when i read enough good fic, i want to contribute so i feel part of something bigger.

with trendsetters and bandwagons on board, the writer:reader ratio is still large. there are a great many readers for every writer. longform wips pop up, modern aus. the trope list gets filled out. more people join the fandom, but not too many people. at this stage, you could feasibly still read all the fic and know all the authors. this is the golden age. this is when fandom is the most fun. it doesn’t seem to last long.

then the fandom gets too big, and fandom police decide to start enforcing Laws of Fandom. you can’t write this, this, or this, and if you do, you will get chased out of town. in the case of kylux, it started with a handful of people who monitored and resented the “BNFs” of kylux fandom (an acronym i despise) and started vagueblogging about them/making up rumors/speculating wildly. screencaps were made, receipts pulled. it was ugly, immature, and annoying, but ultimately not something to worry about. these people didn’t have large followings and had no social sway. they could talk their shit and nothing would come of it.

but then the Harbinger of the Pure arrives. this always seems to be a content creator with a significant following who can bring more purity minions to the fandom, or sway people to the pure, and most importantly, make all the trendsetting writers go “this isn’t fun anymore” and they take their good ideas and creativity and quality and book it to a fandom that won’t make them feel shitty about themselves or send them death threats. the Harbinger has power in following. not only can they send a mob, but they could feasibly dox or otherwise really hurt a writer for not abiding by the Laws. it’s really scary shit, when a purity officer with social influence joins a fandom.

what’s left are vultures feeding on pristine white bones of the fandom that used to be, a few handfuls of writers who have managed to completely avoid the discourse/made communities of their own, and a couple gems who genuinely do not give a fuck. at this point, the fics being written are mostly just boring ghosts of what everyone has already read, where no one is ~problematic and characters have vanilla sex with one-two-three finger prep and plenty of lube. the reader:writer ratio has tipped so that there are more writers than readers, so no one is getting any comments or traffic, and everyone is bored.

from here, the only savior is new canon content. in kylux, episode IX may bring a few trendsetting or bandwagon writers back, but after that, i think it’ll die for real.

the point is, fandom gets stale when no one is taking any risks, and no one can take risks when social censorship is invoked. i think the tide is changing a bit, though, in terms of being able to congregate privately on discord servers, which allows communities to stay separate. it’s easy to pick off lone writers. it’s hard to take down an entire community of us.

this doesn’t happen in juggernaut ships obvs, just medium-level ships. and ultimately, all ships die regardless, this is just the pattern i’ve noticed in trashier ships. ultimately, new canon content always = new fanon content, regardless of purity discourse. but without new content, a great many ships die out, because the trendsetters have nothing to inspire them.

in t100, the Harbinger stepped down (because i think she grew up a little? anyway she was before my time), and now the only purity police left are 14 to 21 year olds with 200 followers each who vaguepost a lot and ultimately stay in their lanes, except for the occasional shitty anon. it’s tolerable, unlike in the kylux fandom where the Harbinger is still going strong and stupid.

tldr purity is a cancer to fandom

#tsatp #Anonymous

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morallyambiguouscreatures · 5 years

Note

hihihi!!! can i request a matchup?? i'm 175cm tall, im p chubby,, i enjoy baking and drawing nd writing stories ! ! i also really like yhe horror genre and romantic comedies... wfjs im considered an energetic person whos very passionatr about the things she does, and i also love my friends!!! i make typos a lot also i can b rlly vile when im mad sksk uhh... i like pink heart emojis nd 100% spam EVERYONE in my contact book with them. i also ramble abt my interests a lot nd never ever stop!!! tysm

You sure can request a match up, though this is a first! I’ve never done one before ah >facts and logic speculation and squeeing:

’I like the kind of person who’s always fun to be with, like a warm ray of sunshine in my life.’ - Natsuki Shinomiya (Shining Live White Day Set)

From what you sent in, you would fit that description! Creative, passionate and fun, he’d love to listen to you talk about your interests and get swept up by your energy

And we all know Natsuki loves height differences, so of course he’d love being taller than you and getting to scoop you up in hugs and cuddles. So many cuddles!

Hope you like being called cute! He wouldn’t be able to help calling you that, given just how adorable he’d find you especially when you’re rambling!

He could really listen to you all day!! You’re like a pick me upIt surprised him at first, just how much he loved hearing you talk about the things you love. Adorable and inspiring, he always leaves conversations with you feeling extra ready to face the day

He would not be above begging to read your stories and see your drawings, and would be really excited to share new creations of his with you

You can bond over just how much you love your friends! Just hearing you talk about your friends would make him love them already He’d be so happy to have a partner who understands just how important friends are, as his groupmates are a huuuge part of his life

Expect to be introduced to all of them and to be asked on lots of group outings with his friends (especially Syo and Ai who would have heard a LOT about you, all the damn time)

Baking dates! However it turns out, there’s nothing cuter than cooking together and getting to give your baked goodies to your friends, right? It’s up to you to make sure they’re edible though…

Natsuki would find your typos and hearts soooo cuuuute! Imagine the texts threads! A rainbow of stickers and emojis, long paragraphs and caplocks.

Other people might not have any idea what you’re saying, but you’d understand each other perfectly.

As for your temper, Natsuki has more emotional intelligence than people give him credit for, and plenty of experience dealing with short-fuses (bythisimeanSyocough). I think he’d be very patient and caring with you, he’s such a gentle and forgiving soul…

when his glasses are on

(idk what im doing ahah hope this was okay!)

#natsuki shinomiya #asks #match up #uta no prince sama #uta pri headcanons

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boogiewrites · 5 years

Text

Choking On Sapphires 61

Title & Song: Maybe I’m Amazed

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 4800+

Summary: Alfie and Genevieve enjoy their time alone together in Paris/ They finally have time to talk about the big questions in their future. Alfie learns something new about Genevieve and he couldn’t possibly be more in love with her for it.

Warnings/Tags: Language. FLUFF. The Louvre. Almost getting arrested. Talk of babies and marriage. Gen crying over paintings. A piece of Gen’s past is revealed to Alfie.

**Chapter song is Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney**

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

You have lunch at a cafe, sitting in the afternoon sun at your small table with the elaborate backed chairs. You make whispered speculations about the other patrons, sitting with your faces close together, hands held together in plain sight on the top of the table. You share coffee and bread before full courses of soup, fish and vegetables and a cheese plate. Proving again that he knows you, he orders you dessert.

"And Babas au Rhum for the missus," he says, hand motioning out to you. As you lower your face and cover it with your hand and silently laugh. "What is it Genny, you don't want to play me wife now?" he chuckles, taking a sip of coffee.

"A girl tries to have a little fun and gets caught and has to pay the price."

"That'll teach ya not to get caught." he snickers.

"That..." you sigh and shake your head, resting on the table with your elbows. "That's entirely valid." you start to laugh, running your fingers through your hair. "It's been so long since I've made up a life I suppose I've gotten rusty. " you say with a thoughtful pout.

"At least nothing was at stake. And it's just me that caught ya."

"That'd be death for any ordinary man."

"Well you are no ordinary man are ya love? Even in trousers." he says playfully wiggling his eyebrows.

"I like to think not." you grin.

"How long have we been married, by the way, just so I know." he says with a quick nod of his head at your expense.

"Almost four months."

"Ah. Still new. How romantic of you, Gen." he grins. "And where was our honeymoon if not Paris?"

"New York." you admit, looking down at the table.

"Ah yes, plenty of Jews there innit there? Were we vistin' family as well?"

"No. I didn't go that far." your face is back to easy going and you don't mind sharing the fantasy with him really. He was being a big tease about it, but you he wasn't making you feel bad about it, and that certainly meant something good didn't it?

"And what about the wedding? What was it like? Did you take me for every pound I've got? " he says sweetly, picking away at his beard.

"Of course I did," you say obviously with a playful tilt of your head. "Why do you want to know?" you ask with narrowed eyes. "You're asking an awful lot of questions for someone making fun of the fantasy."

"I ain't makin' fun and it's not entirely a fantasy now is it, love?" you feel the hairs prickle up on the back of your neck. You see his casual delivery, the confident pout of his lips as he explained. "Fantasy is usually something extravagant, something out of reach. Or something you'd never want but only enjoy the idea of." he goes on with that Alfie Solomons tongue twisting. Sharing his knowledge as if it were a gift. "Marriage and a wedding aren't things I would describe as such. So it ain't a fantasy innit?"

You study his face for a moment, as unreadable as ever, and you knew it was on purpose. He was trying to feel you out, wasn't he? "More of an artist's imagining?"

"And you must draw inspiration from somewhere. So certainly it's something you could share with me, of all people."

"I could." you pause, now trying to remain stoic as well, trying to figure out the reasoning behind those blue eyes of his. "If you'd like me to."

"Of course I bloody do, wouldn't have asked, would I?" he says obviously.

"There were lots of flowers." you say with a softer tone, looking out across the street to a flower shop.

"So this wasn't fantasy at all. You'd love a chuppah dripping in flowers wouldn't you love?" he says watching your face glaze over into the daydream again.

"I suppose I would. I hadn't thought about it up until now." you shake your head and the corner of your mouth turns up. "And that was precisely what I described. Lilacs and lavender falling down like cherry blossoms in the spring. A dress so big and a train so long there weren't enough children in the family to carry it." you begin to grin again, breaking the dazed thousand-yard stare and looking back to the table. "Perhaps not actually that big for real life though." you let out a little giggle and meet his eyes for just a moment.

"Well that's a relief." he says with a laugh and raise of his brows.

"It is?" you ask with a tilt of your head.

"It'd be a shame to not be able to get close to you on the day of after waiting so long." he says matter of factly before meeting your cautious gaze.

You share a moment of silence, you find the others face to be softer than expected. You'd never talked about marriage before with Alfie. It should seem a natural thing to do, given the delayed circumstances of your courtship. You knew only a few people that had waited a year before getting engaged. Although you were still learning about the rules of Judaism, you knew from distant memories of childhood that the process was far different from the usual traditions you were more familiar with, growing up with a Catholic father.

He sees that look in your eyes, although it was rare, he still knew it to be fear. "Is marriage still only a fantasy to you, Genevieve?" his voice was cool and calm. "I recall the last I had heard you didn't want to be married."

"I never said that," you say with blinking eyes and a hesitant tone. "I had spoken from the point of view of assuming I would never find anyone worth marrying." you clarify, a blush rising to your cheeks.

"Ah," he says, a slow nod, reading your nervous body language. He didn't want to push you too far, but surely he was reading the signs clearly. "Like your belief of romance to be dead?" he suggests.

"Yes, like that." you hold his stare, willing yourself to face this conversation. You wanted to get closer to him in Paris. This hadn't been what you'd meant by that though. You should tell him you love him first, shouldn't you? And you most certainly did. You never wanted to be without him, that meant you should marry him, right?

"And I believe you've told me you had changed your feelings on that particular subject, yeah?"

"A particular someone has changed my mind on that yes." you give him a slow-growing smile, looking back down and the table, willing yourself to face the fear you'd held for so long when it came to love and commitment. You reach out and hold his hand.

"Who is he? I'll kill 'im." he says, leaning in closer to you with a charming smile that always causes you to address the tension you hold in your shoulders and release it.

"Bold of you to assume it's a man." you say with raised brows before you both laugh.

"Entirely different set of problems there, mate." he chuckles and squeezes your hands. "Then if I may be so bold as to believe it was somehow me that changed your mind. And you have in fact changed your mind, yeah?" he nods his chin your way. "Then may I also be confirmed in my belief that you have changed your mind about marriage as well?"

"I was never against marriage with the right person."

"The person who made you believe in the romantic sort of marriage, yeah?"

"Yes. That particular person." you say softly.

You see a new sort of smile come across his face. His boyish handsomeness coming through as he gives you a closed lip smile with slow blinking eyes. He leans forward and kisses you gently.

A plate with raspberries and rum smelled sponge cake is slide onto the table, interrupting the eye contact you'd managed to hold. "Excusez-moi, voici vos babas au rhum." the waitress says with an apologetic smile behind bowing her head and leaving.

"I think we would've had this conversation a lot sooner, had we had time alone like this, pet." he says, moving to take his fork and slice the end of the sweet bread and holding it out towards you.

"So do I." you say before taking the piece into your mouth. "But we have all the time here in Paris to do so." you say, finishing chewing.

"That we do, my love." he says before trying to cake himself.

"Perhaps if it were made with your bread?" you suggest with a crooked smile. He hums in appreciation for your praise.

"Perhaps." he nods and reaches out with his hand again, assuring you felt that he mean what he was about to say, as in reflection to the weeks you'd been together had led him to feel guilty about the effort he was putting into seeing you. "I'll make a point to mark more time for us once we return to London, eh? Can't very well be a man who neglects his wife now can I?" he grins.

"For my sake, I'd certainly hope not." you say with a gentle smile as you let out a quiet chuckle.

"Here love, let's eat ya sweeties and let's be off to see the paintings. Would that please the missus?" his face continues to be amused and soft and you feel your heart fluttering about in your chest.

"It would please her very much." you say with a giggle before taking another bite of cake off the fork in his hands. --------

You move throughout the long hallways of the museum much like you had the rest the Paris, hand in hand. Alfie is distracted by the expressions that pass over your face as you look over the painting and statues that line the walls. He notices you keep speaking of wishing you could be as good as good as the works that hung in these halls. He believes you to be, and when he keeps correcting you, a light tap to the nose to scold you speaking any ill of your skills each time until you stop. You do cry, and it was expected. He gives you his sleeve, his handkerchief and tenderly wipes your stray years from your cheeks with his fingers as you sigh heavily and rest your head on his arm.

"Oh, look at it Alfie, darling. My love isn't it just heartbreaking?" you'd say, your hand to your chest and your eyes were hundreds of miles away in thought.

You reach a painting that he knows, a hearty chuckle from him as you approach and he points to Carravaggio's, Judith Beheading Holofernes.

"Oh look, Gen it's our epilogue." he says with a gruff single note laugh.

"Come off it mon Fie." you chuckle, with a roll of your eyes.

"What I don't like is that he truly looks like me in 'is one." he says with his bottom lip disappearing under his mustache.

"I won't deny that. But I'd never cut off your head, darling, I'm much too fond of it." you coo at him, lightly cupping his cheek. "But I must admit she has much the same approach as I doesn't she?"

"If you were left a widow you would cut off the offending parties head? Sounds like you love, yeah." he nods and pouts his lips in agreement.

"I meant in the story, the text of "Approaching to his bed, she took hold of the hair of his head." you say with a smirk. "Something I much adore doing with you."

"Naughty thing. Turnin' bible stories into flirtations. Dirty girl." he says with a deep chuckle.

"It's not a part of our works, so who cares." you let out a dismissive laugh. ------

You come across another painting to resemble him, St. Matthew and the Angel by Rembrandt.

"I don't want to draw attention to it but it would seem as if we're very popular in these works." he says quietly with a pointed finger to the painting.

"That would resemble you, were you old and gray." you nod. "But this is St. Matthew he was an apostle."

"Ah. Then perhaps not." he lets out an amused little chuckle. "But it does remind me of us, yeah. Me workin' away and you come fluttering in, perching on me shoulder to remind me of how heavenly things could be."

"Yes if you'd stop working and let me have me way." you say in a prissy way and he snorts in amusement.

"Always the same with ya Genny. Meowing about, rubbing on me and demanding attention like a cat in heat." he teases.

"How rude. A woman can vocalize her need for affection and attention, mon Fie." you giggle. "Although your comparison is almost embarrassingly accurate." you shrug and grin, taking his hand and tugging him away from the painting. -------

The last painting to draw a deep, gut-wrenching emotion from you was, of course, a Leonardo da Vinci. He feels your stuttered inhalation and looks down at you, finding your face solemn while taking in La Scapigliata with wide watery eyes. It wasn't a very large piece, especially in comparison to the ironic giant size of the statue of David or the entire wall-sized paintings of battles and myths you'd come across. Its size was no indication to the way it seemed to move you.

"How is it this one moves you, my love." he asks, kissing your head as you sigh and put an arm around his waist, and he moves to rest his over your shoulders.

"Look at her face." you whisper. Even though the face was the only true part more fully fleshed out in the portrait, he does as he's asked. "How did he imagine or capture such an expression?" your hand rests on your chest as your words barely scrape past your lips in their raspy and emotion filled response.

Alfie could tell this one was hitting you particularly hard. "What do you see, Genevieve?" he asks softly, leaning down to your ear.

"I see a fully expressed inner emotion, depicted outwardly as if caught candidly on her face." you let out a long sigh. "The slightly messy curls falling about, the downward casted soft eyes, the glow that is reflected off her skin. She doesn't care about anything else except that exact moment. That exact feeling she's being consumed by."

"You should describe things to the blind love. Your words are doing the art justice." he whispers, another kiss to your hair as he watches the tears fall from your eyes like he did the night of the opera. Now more certain in his choice to buy you the teardrop earrings for a memento from these days spent together. "What feelin' is it, my beautiful flower?"

"Love." you sigh out, another stuttered inhale past your trembling lips.

He studies the woman's face and truly tries to see in through your beautifully worded depictions. "I wonder what it is she's looking at?" he asks aloud.

"I imagine it to be what looking at your child for the first time must feel like. The exhaustion on her face, only countered with the slightest upturning of her lips, the heavy corners of her eyes crinkled just so, pouring wordless devotion to the new babe in her arms."

Suddenly he's hit with it. He sees what you see for a moment. "That is what it is, innit?" he whispers. Besides the babe itself, nothing else would matter at that moment except the emotion, and the unfinished state of the painting somehow made it more poignant suddenly to him. "You are bloody brilliant, Genevieve." he rasps out.

You blink rapidly, taken out of your fantasy of feeling the emotions for yourself. Beyond exhaustion, in pain and flooded with emotion, you lie in bed with a pinked babe to your breast, a vision coming to you as you cry silently. You turn your face with its tear-stained cheeks to meet his. You find his brow furrowed, lips in a tight line of thought as he brushes your cheek and holds the warmth to your face.

"The things I have seen you do, my love. The animal I have known and adored just the same as the tender and gentle soul that resides within you and it all astounds me. Your dual nature gives me hope that being hard and covered in blood isn't all my life may be. To have proof one can access such a broad range of emotions gives me a reason to believe there is more for me even when I am in doubt of it. The capacity for maternal love you hold was something I never expected in you."

"Having a child is a brutal and bloody business for a woman. You risk your life, you face unimaginable pain and gore just the same as coming by it through means of violence, you can come by it by means of love just the same."

"And you know of pain through violence, my love." he nods.

"Intimately."

"Do you wish to know of that pain through love, Genevieve? To bring a life into the world by blood instead of taking one out?" his brow shifts and he searching your face for answers. He holds his breath and he does not mean to. It was clear the art was working away at his emotions as well, forcing life's biggest questions out of him.

You nod and let out a shaky exhale. "I do." you answer simply. You realize the weight that lifted off of you that you hadn't known was there dissipates as you openly admit it to another person. To say it so closely, and to the person you hoped you would be making the life with touches you both. You can both feel it, a heartbeat shared in tandem for a moment as it skips at the thought of creating another heartbeat to share outside yourselves. So many things that seemed out of reach to you both were now attainable things because you'd found each other. You lean in to kiss him, he tastes the salt of your tears on your lips. "Is that something you wish to create as well?" you ask with a weak voice.

"Because of you... with you... yes." the delicate up turning of your lips as he confessed his hidden and never before shared thoughts with you stirs something deep and rooted within in at his core.

A tender and pure kiss, you place on his lips in repayment of the words you had spent so much time wondering if you'd ever hear from him. ----- Emerging from the stone rooms you feel the sun on your skin again as you take a deep breath of fresh air and have a good stretch, leaving the heaviness you felt as the emotions from the art weighed you down. You stand with your hands on your hips, looking about as Alfie adjusts his jacket. You suppose he too was dealing with the heaviness you felt. After all, you'd dealt with both topics of marriage and children today and so boldly and rather fearlessly for you both, the hangover from the intensity you shared when discussing deep topics.

"Excuse me?" you hear from behind you, revealing a policeman standing with his hands behind his back and an unwelcome look on his face.

"Yes?" you ask, straightening your posture, not hiding your distaste for the look he had on his face.

"I'm afraid your attire isn't legal in this city and I'm going to have to be placing you under arrest."

You openly laugh in his face and you feel the heat and power radiating off Alfie despite him being out of his jurisdiction. You hold your hand out behind you to signal him to stop, keeping your eyes on the man in front of you.

"My attire?" you scoff.

"Yes, it is illegal for a woman to wear trousers. It gives way to transvestitism and the law doesn't support that sort of behavior."

"Your city is full of artists, darling, you do nothing but support it!" you laugh with your head back.

"You're under arrest miss for the trousers and the attitude will not be helping your case, come now." he says as he reaches for the metal cuffs.

"I think not." you say with a deeper tone, narrowing your eyes at him.

"I can make a scene miss, or you can come with me as a lady should." he says as you continue to take steps backward as he approaches you.

"There will be a hell of a scene if you try and throw a Lafitte in jail." you say with a stubborn nod your head, your words strong and biting.

The man stops, his head pushing back as he studies you. You knew he would know who your uncle was. And if he wasn't in a precinct that was under his pay, chances are he was one that still feared him and his power.

"So you can leave me the fuck alone or I can call my uncle Altar from jail and have him come down and deal with you." you lean forward, hands on your hips and you stare into the man's uncertain eyes.

"Your uncle?" he says not convinced. "He's not your uncle, who are you? I've never even seen you before." he says with a worse attitude than you had.

"I'm Lilly Lafitte." you say crossing your arms across your chest, standing tall and taking a step towards him. "I've been living in London for years which is why you don't recognize me you pup." you say with a nod of your chin at the young man.

"Lilly?" he says with a face showing clear confusion. "But she disappeared."

"And I've reappeared, dear." you state obviously. "My goy father tried to silence me and now I'm back in the light. You could take your chances but do you really want to risk angering Altar by bothering his favorite niece with something as stupid and pointless as this?" you bark back at him.

You see the thoughts running across the young man's face. You keep your stern face and confident body language. You knew young ones like him wouldn't believe a woman to lie, and you were using that to your advantage.

"I won't arrest you." he says with narrowed eyes. "But may I ask that you change your attire? You're asking for trouble."

"You may ask but I will not respond in kind." you say with a purse of your lips.

He nods and looks you over, an annoyed look on his face as he turns and leaves, mumbling to himself.

"Fuck me, Genevieve," Alfie says gruffly. "Ya wanna make me think I'm gonna have to raise hands at a fuckin' French copper, love? Jesus." he says with a big roll of his eyes, lips pursed as he wags a finger at you as he speaks. "That was really fuckin' risky trying to pull the Lafitte name like that ya know?" he says with a scolding tone and a stern look on his face.

"What risk?" you ask in an innocent tone. You tilt your head and soften your body language as you take slow steps back to him. "There is no risk." you say with a soft huff of a laugh and a shake of your head.

"They could've taken you anyway and then where would you 'ave been, eh?" he says, leaning in close to your face as you stand only a breath away from him.

"But I wasn't lying." you say with a slow blink of lash up at him in a calm voice.

His chin pushes back into his neck, his brow shooting low just as fast. "You...weren't lyin'?" he clarifies with an angry but not aggressive stare. There's no way, he thinks.

"No." you state plainly, large eyes looking up at him as a smile slowly comes across your face. He really hadn't known. You thought in all the research he might've done that he would've heard of your old alias, the first real criminal work you'd done under the name Lily, the one your uncle gave you. And your uncle happened to be one of the most powerful Jewish men in France, at least when it came to the French mafia. Where had he thought you'd learned all your skills? Perhaps he'd never thought about your origins beyond what you'd shared with him.

"You're...fuckin’ ‘ell..." he blinks rapidly, his brow shifting unevenly, his eyes darting about the street before returning to you with a quick shake of his head, clearly his brain was backfiring at the realization.

"My first criminal alias was Lilly Lafitte." you say in a tone so casual he cannot understand why you are so cool in your delivery of the news. You place a hand on his chest to steady him. It'd been so long since you'd said the name, memories of museum and jewelry heists float about your mind in a warm and happy haze.

"Ya fuckin' wot?!" he says loudly as you laugh quietly at his dumbfounded face. You loved the expression as it was so rare. "You? Standin' there? Fuckin' Lilly Lafitte?" he harshly whispers, trying to get a control on the volume of his voice.

You nod and smile with a mischievous look he's seen before.

"You're a fuckin' legend, mate." he groans out, eyes wide and brow low, studying you to find any fault as if you were lying to him. He'd heard of the young woman, rumored to work with the French gangster Altar Lafitte of the same name, who made her way through Paris stealing art and jewels in the least likely of places and never being caught. He'd thought Lily Lafitte would've been older, as the jobs and their tales would suggest someone of more experience might've done them. But no, he sighs, you've had it in your blood the entire time. Raised under the influence of a man even he looked up to for his business sense. "I used to tell stories 'bout you." he says with a strange feeling of lust coming over him.

"A lot of Jewish boys did." you smirk.

"YOU are Altar fuckin' Lafitte's niece?" he asks with wild eyes and a crazed smile, scratching his head.

"Yes. He's the uncle I've spoken of on many occasions."

"Fuck me." he groans, shaking his head. "I've been with Lily fuckin' Lafitte." he says with a hard guttural laugh that makes him bend slightly, slapping his own knee. "If only I could've told me younger self about this. Well he wouldn't have fuckin' believed it but he'd like the fantasy I'm certain." he laughs heartily.

"And how does the fantasy live up to the reality love?" you coo.

"No fuckin' comparison, you magnificent creature." he groans and leans in close. "As always you make my words ring true as you can only be outdone by yourself, eh?" a bright and boyish grin on his face down at you.

You lean in to kiss him. What was meant as a treat for being so damned charming turns into his hands wrapped around you, picking you up slightly off the ground as he grunts into your neck, noisy kisses with his plush lips finding their way across your skin. You giggle and squirm under his touch, his beard tickling away at your ears as he mutters praise and disbelief.

"Would you like to meet him?" you ask with an innocent lilt.

"Meet... meet Altar? The fuckin' Jewish crime lord of Paris? Just fuckin'... meet him?" he says with a wide motion of his hand. "Pop is for tea like it's bloody Shabbat and we don't have a thing else to do?" he amuses himself and laughs.

"Yes, I could call him. He never minds when I drop by." you say with a shake of your head, once again your casual tone confounds him.

"I'm with a woman who can "drop in" on Altar Lafitte and be welcomed," he says quietly, taking your face into his hands. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" he asks with a sweet and simple kiss, words muttered against your smiling lips. The business opportunity's now open to him scramble around in his brain.

"You're Alfie fucking Solomons. That's what." you say with a doting smile as he growls and wraps you up in his arms, pressing his lips to yours as you kick your feet and wrap your arms around his neck and let out a happy squeal you don't recall ever having made before.

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1 @ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi

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cometsweepandleonidsfly · 5 years

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David Sims: “ As a fan of the TV show, I felt battered into submission. This season has been the same story over and over again: a lot of tin-eared writing trying to justify some of the most drastic story developments imaginable, as quickly as possible....[T]ime and time again in recent years, Benioff and Weiss have opted for grand cinematic gestures over granular world building, and Drogon burning the Throne to sludge was their last big mic drop.

Spencer Kornhaber: The penultimate episode of Game of Thrones gave us one of the most dramatic reversals in TV history, with the once-good queen going genocidal. The finale gave us yet another historic reversal, in that this drama turned into a sitcom. Not a slick HBO sitcom either, but a cheapo network affair, or maybe even a webisode of outtakes from one. Tonally odd, logically strained, and emotionally thin, “The Iron Throne” felt like the first draft of a finale.

When Dany torched King’s Landing last week, viewers were incensed, but I’d argue it was less because the onetime hero went bad than because it wasn’t clearwhy she did. Long-simmering madness? Sudden emotional break? Tough-minded strategy? A desire to implement an innovative new city grid? The answer to this would seem to help answer some of the show’s most fundamental inquiries about might and right, little people and greater goods, noble nature and cruel nurture. Thrones has been shaky quality-wise for some time now, but surely the show would be competent enough to hinge the finale around the mystery of Dany’s decision.

Nope. The first parts of the episode loaded up on ponderous scenes of the characters whose horror at the razing of King’s Landing had been made plenty clear during the course of the razing. Tyrion speculated a bit to Jon about what had happened—Dany truly believed she was out to save the world and could thus justify any means on the way to messianic ends—but it was, truly, just speculation. When Jon and Dany met up, he raged at her, and she gave some tyrannical talk knowing what “the good world” would need (shades of “I alone can fix it,” no?). But whether her total firebombing was premeditated, tactical, or a tantrum remained unclear. Whether she was always this deranged or just now became so determines what story Thrones was telling all along, and Benioff and Weiss have left it to be argued about in Facebook threads.

The Dany speechifying that we did get in this episode was, notably, not in the common tongue. Though conducted in Dothraki and Valaryian and not German, her victory rally was clearly meant to evoke Hitler in Triumph of the Will. It also visually recalled the white-cloaked Saruman rallying the orc armies in The Two Towers, another queasy echo. People talk about George R. R. Martin “subverting” Tolkien, but on the diciest element of Lord of the Rings—the capacity for it to be seen as a racist allegory, with Sauron’s horde of exotic brutes bearing down on an idyllic kingdom—this episode simply took the subtext and made it text. With the Northmen sitting out the march, the Dothraki and Unsullied were cast as bloodthirsty others eager to massacre a continent. Given all the baggage around Dany’s white-savior narrative from the start, going so heavy on the hooting and barking was a telling sign of the clumsiness to come.

Jon’s kiss-and-kill with Dany led to the one moment of sharp emotion—terror—I felt over the course of this bizarrely inert episode. That emotion came not from the assassination itself but rather from the suspense about what Drogon would do about it. For the dragon to roast the slayer of his mother would have been a fittingly awful but logical turn. Instead, Drogon turned his geyser toward the Iron Throne. Whether Aegon’s thousand swords were just a coincidental casualty of a dragon’s mourning or, rather, the chosen target of a beast with a higher purpose—R’hllor take the wheel?—is another key thing fans will be left to argue about.

Then came the epilogue, a parade of oofs. David, you say you were satisfied by where this finale moved all its game pieces, and if I step back … well, no, I’m not satisfied with Arya showing a sudden new interest in seafaring, but maybe I can be argued into it. What I can’t budge on is the parody-worthy crumminess of the execution. Take the council that decides the fate of Westeros. It appears that various lords gathered to force a confrontation with the Unsullied about the prisoners Tyrion and Jon Snow and the status of King’s Landing. But then one of those prisoners suggests they pick a ruler for the realm. They then … do just that. Right there and then. Huh?

It really undoes much of what we’ve learned about Westeros as a land of ruthlessly competing interests to see a group of far-flung factions unanimously agree to give the crown to the literal opposite of a “people person.” Yes, the council is dominated by protagonist types whom we know to be good-hearted and tired of war. But surely someone—hello, new prince of Dorne! What’s up, noted screamer Robin Arryn?—would make more of a case for another candidate than poor Edmure Tully did. Rather than hashing out the intrigue of it all as Thrones once would have done, we got Sam bringing up the concept of democracy and getting laughed down. The joke relied on the worst kind of anachronistic humor—breaking the fourth wall that had been so carefully mortared up over all these years—and much of the rest of the episode would coast on similarly wack moments.

It’s “nice” to see beloved characters ride off into various sunsets, but I balk at the notion that these endings even count as fan service. What true fan of Thronesthinks this show existed to deliver wish fulfillment? I’m not saying I wanted everyone to get gobbled up by a rogue zombie flank in the show’s final moments. Yet rather than honoring the complication and tough rules that made Thrones’ world so strangely lovable, Benioff and Weiss waved a wand and zapped away tension and consequence. You see this, for example, in the baffling arc of Bronn over the course of Season 8. What was the point of having him nearly kill Jaime and Tyrion if he was going to just be yada-yadaed onto the small council at the end?

One thing I can’t complain about: the hint that clean water will soon be coming to Westeros. Hopefully, someone will use it to give Ghost a bath. As the doggy and his dad rode north of the Wall with a band of men, women, and children, the message seemed to be that where death once ruled, life could begin. Winter Is Leaving. It’d seem like a hopeful takeaway for our own world, except that it’s not clear, even now, exactly how and why the realm of Thrones arrived at this happy outcome.

Lenika Cruz: Do I have answers? Who do you think I am—Bran the Broken? Before I get into this episode, I need to acknowledge how unfortunate it is that Tyrion decided to give the new ruler of the Six Kingdoms a name as horrifyingly ableist as Bran the Broken. You could, of course, argue that the moniker was intended as a reclamation of a slur or as a poignant callback to Season 1’s “Cripples, Bastards, and Broken Things,” when Tyrion and Bran first bonded. But given the “parade of oofs” this finale provided—including the troubling optics of Dany’s big speech—it’s hard to make excuses for the show.

Now that we’ve gotten our “the real Game of Thrones/Iron Throne/Song of Ice and Fire was the friends we made along the way” jokes out of our system, where to begin? I basically agree with Spencer’s scorched-earth take on “The Iron Throne.” I was already expecting the finale to be a disappointment, but I didn’t foresee the tonal and narrative whiplash that I experienced here. At one point during the small-council meeting, my mind stopped processing the dialogue because I was in such disbelief about the several enormous things that had happened within the span of 15 minutes: Jon stabs Dany. Instead of roasting Jon, Drogon symbolically melts the Iron Throne and carries the limp body of his mother off in his talons. A conclave of lords and ladies of Westeros is convened, and Tyrion is brought before them in chains, and they know Dany was murdered, and Tyrion argues for an entirely new system of government while being held prisoner by the Master of War of the person he just conspired to assassinate. Excuse me? (The way that Grey Worm huffed, “Make your choice, then,” at those assembled reminded me of an impatient father waiting for his children to pick which ice-cream flavor they want.)

David, Spencer—of the three of us, I’ve been the most stubborn about thinking this final season is bad and holding that badness against the show. I don’t fault viewers who’ve become inured to the shoddy writing and plotting, and who’ve been grading each episode on a curve as a result. But I personally haven’t been able to get into a mind-set where I can watch an episode and enjoy it for everything except stuff like pacing issues, rushed character development, tonal dissonance, the lack of attention to detail, unexplained reversals, and weak dialogue. All of those problems absolutely make the show less enjoyable for me, and I haven’t learned to compartmentalize them—even though I know how hard it must have been for Benioff and Weiss to piece together an airtight final act solely from Martin’s book notes.

...Much like with last week’s episode, I can actually see myself being on board with many of the plot points in the finale—if only they had been built up to properly and given the right sort of connective tissue. For all the episode’s earnest exhortations about the power of stories, “The Iron Throne” itself didn’t do much to model that value.

For example, I can’t be the only one who was let down, and at a loss for a larger takeaway, after seeing a high-stakes contest between two ambitious female rulers devolve after both became unhinged and got themselves killed. After all the intense discussion about gender politics that Thrones has spurred, and after seeing characters such as Sansa, Brienne, Cersei, Daenerys, and Yara reshape the patriarchal structures of Westeros, we’ve ended up with a male ruler (who once said, “I will never be lord of anything”) installed on the charismatic recommendation of another man and served by a small council composed almost entirely of … men.

Perhaps there’s no deeper meaning to any of this. Or perhaps this state of affairs is a commentary on the frustrating realities of incrementalism. I am, of course, beyond pleased that Sansa Stark has at least become the Queen in the North—a title that she, frankly, deserved from the beginning. But I haven’t forgotten that this show only recently had her articulate the silver lining of being raped and tortured. Nor am I waving away the fact that Brienne spent some of her last moments on-screen writing a fond tribute to a man who betrayed her and all but undid his entire character arc in one swoop. My sense is that the show’s writers didn’t think about Thrones resetting to the rule of men much at all, and that they were instead relishing having a gaggle of former misfits sitting on the small council. See? the show seemed to cry. Change!

At times, Thrones gestured more clearly to the ways in which the story was going a more circular route; this was especially true of the Starks. Jon headed up to Castle Black and became a kind of successor to Mance Rayder—someone leading not because of his last name or bloodline but because of the loyalty he’s earned. Arya’s seafaring didn’t feel out of character to me—it fit with her sense of adventure and reminded me of her voyage across the Narrow Sea to Braavos all those years ago. Sansa became Queen in the North in a scene that recalled the debut of “Dark Sansa” in the Vale, but that felt like a true acknowledgment of how much her character has transformed. I’ll admit, the crosscutting of the scenes showing the Starks finding their own, separate ways forward was beautifully done. It made me wish the episode as a whole had been more cohesive, less rushed, and more emotionally resonant.

Spencer, I think you smartly diagnosed so many of the big-picture problems with the finale—the sitcommy feel, the yada-yadaing of major points, the many attempts at fan service. So rather than elaborate even more, I’ll end this review by saying something sort of obvious: Viewers are perfectly entitled to feel about the ending of Game of Thrones however they want to. After eight seasons, they have earned the right to be as wrathful or blissed-out on this finale as they want; it’s been a long and stressful ride for us all. I’m genuinely happy that there are folks who don’t feel as though the hours and hours they’ve devoted to this show have been wasted. I know there are many others who wish they could say the same thing.”

#game of thrones #spoilers #such rotten storytelling

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patriotsnet · 3 years

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Will Any Republicans Run Against Trump

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/will-any-republicans-run-against-trump/

Will Any Republicans Run Against Trump

Who Are The Republicans Challenging Trump For 2020 Nomination

Is There Any Republican That Would Actually Run Against Trump?

Only one candidate is now vying to defeat Trump for Republican nomination in the 2020 presidential race.

While the pool of Democrats vying for the partys presidential nomination was among the largest and most diverse in the history of the United States, President Donald Trump faced a much smaller cadre of challengers for the Republican ticket in 2020.

After two Republicans dropped out, only one opponent remains in the race against Trump. Thats in contrast to the three remaining contenders in the Democratic field, which once had more than two dozen candidates.

In a statement in April, the Republican National Convention said the Republican Party is firmly behind Trump and any effort to challenge the presidents nomination is bound to go absolutely nowhere, prompting criticism that Republican leaders are making it;impossible for another candidate to succeed.

Here is a look at the now sole Republican challenging Trump.

Florida Gov Ron Desantis

DeSantis narrowly beat out Trump in a straw poll at the Western Conservative Summit in Denver last month, but his greatest strength could also prove to be his greatest weakness. Praised by Republicans as a next-generation Trump, it could put him on a collision course with Trump should both run.

DeSantis is up for reelection next year, and hes purposely avoided Iowa to not drive 2024 speculation, according to Politico. Still, hes building out a gubernatorial record sure to please primary voters. Name a top Republican issue today, chances are DeSantis has signed a bill and/or has run Facebook ads about it.

Hes signed bills banning vaccine passports,restricting ballot drop boxes and voting by mail, and setting mandates for civics curriculum in the state. Another bill prohibiting deplatforming was signed into law in May, but a federal judge issued a preliminary injunction on Wednesday, arguing it likely violates social media networks First Amendment freedom of speech rights. Hes run Facebook ads about critical race theory and transgender athletes in sports.

But DeSantis has backed away from partisanship when responding to the building collapse in Surfside, Florida. The first-term governor welcomed President Joe Biden to the state last week when he visited to meet with families and survivors. Youve recognized the severity of this tragedy from day one and youve been very supportive, DeSantis said of Biden.

Trump Remains 2024 Candidate Of Choice For Most Republicans Poll Shows

59% of Republican voters said they wanted Trump to play prominent role in party, but tens of thousands left after Capitol riot

If the 2024 Republican presidential primary were held today, Donald Trump would be the clear favorite to win big. That was the message from a Politico-Morning Consult poll released on Tuesday, three days after Trumps acquittal in his second impeachment trial, on a charge of inciting the insurrection at the US Capitol on 6 January.

Among Republican voters, 59% said they wanted Trump to play a prominent role in their party, up a whopping 18 points from the last such poll, taken in the aftermath of the Capitol riot. A slightly lower number, 54%, said they would back Trump in the primary.

Tens of thousands of Republicans left the party after the Capitol insurrection, and a majority of Americans have told other pollsters they would like to see Trump banished from politics.

Though the 45th president will be 78 by election day 2024, he will be able to run again if he chooses, having escaped being barred from office after a 57-43 Senate vote to convict with seven Republican defections but 10 votes short of the majority needed.

Mike Pences life was threatened by Trump supporters at the Capitol, as the vice-president presided over the ratification of electoral college results confirming Trumps defeat by Joe Biden. He placed second in the Politico-Morning Consult poll, with 12%.

Don’t Miss: Dems Voting For Trump

Trump Has Said Hes Not Interested In Debating His Republican Opponents

Everyone remembers the 2016 Republican primary debates and how entertaining they were. Many Republicans were running for the coveted spot and Trump stood out during the debates. When the candidates were asked to raise their hands if they would support whoever ultimately won the primary, Trump was the only one who didnt raise his hand. And then he kept talking about how he had donated to many of the candidates campaigns in the past.

But it looks like this time around, Trump wont have a chance to debate the candidates running against him for 2020. Trumps 2020 campaign is already going strong, and there are no hints of any plans by the RNC to have debates with his opponents.

The reason why both parties had debates for the primaries in 2016 was because there wasnt an incumbent President running. But this time around, its different for the Republicans. They have an incumbent, so theyre not going to give a lot of attention to Trumps opponents.

Back in September, Trump was asked if he would debate a Republican opponent, NBC reported. Trump responded: I would say this: They are all at less than 1 percent. I guess its a publicity stunt. We just got a little while ago 94 percent popularity or approval within the Republican party. So to be honest, Im not looking to get them any credibility. They have no credibility.

Kansas will also not hold a caucus for Republicans in 2020.

Arizona Republicans also voted to cancel their primary too.

Election: Trump Forces Republican Field To Sidestep Direct Challenge To Biden

No notable Republican has declared outright a challenge to President Biden in 2024. But plenty of them are flocking to Iowa courting activists, establishing political action committees and trotting out their best digs against Democrats signaling that the GOP presidential primary is already underway.

This cycle, however, has a Trump-induced twist. As the former president keeps Republicans guessing whether he will run again, politicians are being especially circumspect about their own White House aspirations.

“Usually, when the race is over and don’t win … the very next day, the race is on,” said Bob Vander Plaats, president of the Family Leader, an influential network of Christian activists in the state. “That hasn’t been the case so much. A lot of people are still asking, ‘What is Trump going to do?'”

The looming question has added an extra degree of coyness as possible contenders cozy up to voters in Iowa, which traditionally has held the first contest of the nominating season. Despite some prominent conservatives in the state sensing desire for a new Republican standard-bearer, politicians are assiduously working not to alienate Trump, who still enjoys broad popularity with the party’s base

The bold-faced GOP names who have visited so far include former Vice President Mike Pence; Sens. Tim Scott of South Carolina, Tom Cotton of Arkansas and Rick Scott of Florida; ex-Ambassador to the United Nations Nikki Haley; and South Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem.

Don’t Miss: When Did Republicans And Democrats Switch Platforms

Republican Leadership Thus Far Mum On 2024 Preferences

RNC officials have vowed to remain neutral in the future presidential race. They say their focus right now is on the 2022 elections a major item on the retreat agenda as the party tries to regain control of the U.S. House and Senate.

House Republican leader Kevin McCarthy, R-Calif., and other election officials are attending the retreat. Scott, a Florida senator and potential presidential candidate, heads up the National Republican Senatorial Committee.

The weekend series of meetings includes panels and speeches on such topics as improving Republican voter turnout, expanding GOP coalitions, and building a campaign case against Biden, his administration and the Democratic-led Congress.

To Democrats, this weekend’s activities in Palm Beach look a lot like sucking up to Trump. Democratic National Committee spokesman Ammar Moussa likened the would-be presidential candidates to contestants on Trump’s old television show, “The Apprentice.”

“While Republicans are hobnobbing with their special interest donors, President Biden and Democrats are delivering for everyday Americans, putting vaccines in arms, money in pockets, and bringing normalcy back,” he said.

Former Us Ambassador To The United Nations Nikki Haley

Haley, 49, stands out in the potential pool of 2024 Republican candidates by her resume. She has experience as an executive as the former governor of South Carolina and foreign policy experience from her time as U.S. ambassador to the United Nations.

Haley was a member of the Republican Partys 2010 tea party class. A former South Carolina state representative, her long shot gubernatorial campaign saw its fortunes improve after she was endorsed by Sarah Palin. Haley rocketed from fourth to first just days after the endorsement, and she went on to clinch the nomination and become her states first female and first Indian-American governor.

As governor, she signed a bill removing the Confederate flag from the state Capitol following the white supremacist attack at the Emanuel African Methodist Church in Charleston. She left office in 2017 to join the Trump administration as U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, and Quinnipiac poll found she was at one point the most popular member of Trumps foreign policy team.

I think that shes done a pretty masterful job in filling out her resume, said Robert Oldendick, a professor and director of graduate studies at the University of South Carolinas department of political science.

Haley criticized Trump following the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol by his supporters, saying she was disgusted by his conduct. Oldendick said he thought her pretty pointed criticism of the president will potentially cause some problems.

You May Like: How Many Republicans Are Against Trump

Democrats Sweat Turnout Disaster In California Without Trump To Run Against

Without Trump on the ballot, California Democrats are trying to motivate voters.

In a heavily Democratic state where Gov. Gavin Newsom beat his Republican opponent in 2018 by 3 million votes, the recall stands within a few percentage points of passing next month. | Jeff Chiu/AP Photo

08/26/2021 02:34 PM EDT

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LOS ANGELES Donald Trump could swing the California governorship to a Republican. Merely by his absence.

Democrats turned out in record numbers when they had Trump to vote against. But in one of the first, large-scale tests of voter enthusiasm for Democrats in the post-Trump era, Californias surprisingly close gubernatorial recall election is laying bare just how hard it may be for the party to motivate its base without Trump as a foil.

Even in this bastion of progressive politics, ominous signs for the Democratic Party are everywhere. A CBS News-YouGov poll last week found voters who cast ballots for Joe Biden were less likely than Trump supporters to be very closely following the recall and less motivated to vote. In a Berkeley-IGS survey, registered Democrats and independent voters were nearly 30 percentage points less likely than Republicans to express a high level of interest in voting in the election.

Can Democrats win without having Trump as their foil? This is the challenge, said Gray Davis, the former California governor who was recalled in 2003.

Were going to find out pretty soon,” he said in an interview.

Filed Under:

Former Ambassador To The United Nations Nikki Haley

Trump takes aim at Republicans who have spoken out against him

Haley has changed her tone when it comes to Trump. After saying he let us down and lost any sort of political viability he was going to have following Jan. 6, Haley is, at least publicly, a fan again. During her remarks at the Iowa Republican Party dinner on June 24, Haley praised Trump and told a story about him asking if he should call Kim Jong Un little rocket man during his speech at the U.N. Haley said she cautioned him to treat the audience like church instead of a rally, but he went ahead and used the term.

Haley even sounded kind of Trumpian during her speech, telling Republicans they were too nice. We have to be tough about how we fight, she said. We keep getting steamrolled and then whine and complain about it. The days of being nice should be over.

She also didnt shy away from her gender, opening the speech by saying, America needs more strong conservative women leaders and less of Nancy Pelosi and Kamala Harris, and praising female Iowa Republicans like U.S. Sen. Joni Ernst and Gov. Kim Reynolds. I wear heels, Haley said. Its not for a fashion statement. I use it for kicking. But I always kick with a smile.

Don’t Miss: What Are The Views Of Republicans

Four State Republican Parties Cancel 2020 Primaries To Protect Trump’s Re

South Carolina’s move is an attempt to sideline the states former Republican governor, Mark Sanford, who on Sunday in the GOP primary. Also in the running against Trump are former Illinois Rep. Joe Walsh and former Massachusetts Gov. Bill Weld.

Trump was asked Monday if he would debate any of his Republican rivals.

“I don’t know them,” the president responded. “I would say this: They are all at less than 1 percent. I guess it’s a publicity stunt. We just got a little while ago 94 percent popularity or approval within the Republican party. So to be honest, I’m not looking to get them any credibility. They have no credibility.”

He added, “One was a person that voted for Obama, ran as a vice president four years ago and was soundly defeated, another one got thrown out after one term in Congress and he lost in a landslide and the third one Mr. Appalachian trail he wasn’t on the Appalachian trial; he was in Argentina.”

Sanford, a conservative who clashed with Trump when he served in Congress, said on MSNBC on Monday that he’s running because Republicans have turned their back on their values in favor of personal allegiance to Trump.

“Right now, the sun, moon and stars too often basically orbit around Donald Trump, Sanford said of the attitude of the GOP. “And if it’s not personal allegiance to him, not issue allegiance or idea allegiance, but if it’s not personal allegiance, it’s not good enough.”

Kansas’ GOP also came to the same decision on Friday.

Former President Donald Trump

Trump told Fox News host Sean Hannity that he made up his mind about whether hell run for the 2024 Republican presidential nomination again, but he didnt say what the answer is, keeping the 2024 field open, for now.

The former president held his first post-White House rally in Ohio on June 26 the first since his inflammatory Jan. 6 Save America rally that preceded the failed insurrection attempt at the U.S. Capitol by his supporters. Trump called it the first rally of the 2022 election, but no cable news network carried it live, not even Fox News.

The rally came in the middle of a busy few days in June for Trump. Trumps personal attorney Rudy Giuliani had his law license suspended in the state of New York over his false and misleading claims about the 2020 election, and a week ago, The Trump Organization and its Chief Financial Officer Allen Weisselberg were indicted on tax fraud charges and accused as part of a two-year investigation that began when Trump was still in office. Weisselberg and lawyers for the Trump Organization both pleaded not guilty.

The former president has reportedly told others that he wont have to wait until 2024 to return to the White House. The New York Times and other news outlets have reported that Trump expects to be reinstated as president by August.

Trumps power in the Republican Party is growing. Heres how we know

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Us Election 2024: Who Are The Likely Republican Candidates To Run For President Against Joe Biden

Mike Pence, Ivanka Trump and Ted Cruz are among the rumoured candidates to become Donald Trump’s successor

The 2020 presidential race has only just finished, but the Republican candidates for 2024 are already preparing themselves for their shot at the White House.

We take a look at who may be looking to get themselves in to the race.

Why The Gop Congress Will Stop Trump From Going Too Far

The coming resistance from Republican lawmakers who hate Trump, fear executive overreachor both.

This is a sneak preview;of the upcoming January/February 2017 issue of the Washington Monthly.

Could it happen here? Could a democratically elected leader come to rule us as an autocrat? Citizens of a free society can never lose sight of this question, andhowever complacent many of us have becomethe election of Donald Trump has shoved it back out to center stage.

A dependence on the people is, no doubt, the primary control on the government, James Madison observed in The Federalist Papers, but experience has taught mankind the necessity of auxiliary precautions. These precautions are the separation of powers and checks and balances, enshrined in the Constitution. Citizens concerned about tyranny from the leaders they have elected must depend on the other branches of government to defend the republic.

In particular, the public must rely on Congress, the branch of government that Madison felt necessarily predominates, given its proximity to the people. Moreover, Article I of the Constitution vests in Congress all legislative Powers herein granted, as well as ample implied powers of oversight, and the power of impeachment should that become necessary. If a strongman government ever takes root in America, it will not be simply because we elected a president determined to establish it, but because Congress acquiesced in his designs.

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Republicans Who Could Run Against Trump

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Like many people, James Comey, the former F.B.I. director, has been thinking about the best way for the Presidency of Donald Trump to end. Interviewed in New York last week, Comey said that his own, possibly weird thought is that impeachment is not the ideal course; for one thing, it would let voters off the hook in 2020. We need a clear jump upward, and it will come from tens of millions of Americans, he told his interviewer, Nicolle Wallace. But Comey put the burden on the Democrats, saying, They have to win.

In response, Trump tweeted that Comey had just totally exposed his partisan stance by urging his fellow Democrats to take back the White House in 2020. He added, Comey had no right heading the FBI at any time, but especially after his mind exploded! The date and the circumstances of the alleged detonation were not clear, but the message was: to speak about confronting Trump at the polls is to speak as a Democrat.

Trump knows that, which is why his campaign is already working to engineer a preëmptive endorsement in the New Hampshire primary, the first in the nation, from the state Party, which traditionally remains neutral. He could be much more vulnerable by August of 2020, when the Republican National Convention meets in Charlotte, North Carolina, depending on, among other things, how the Mueller investigation develops.

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