#LISTEN Deckard is a very pretty boy

[miniscule-meow]

How would your characters react to Isabelle and lark being swapped? Like Isabelle goes to larks story and lark goes to Isabelles story?

Ooh this is a good one. Sorry it took me all day, I couldn't just answer this, so I wrote out the scenes! It's kind of long so it's under the cut. Enjoy!

~*~

Isabell wakes up to the dim light of early morning filtering in through the window of a dark room. There is a prickling sense of wrongness that jitters down her spine. This is not where she fell asleep. She's in the center of a large pillow, the plush surface beneath her would make rough terrain for any kind of quick movement, if she needed to escape or- no. She doesn't need to worry about that anymore. It's hard, trying to rewire her own brain, to undo every instinct her life has instilled in her. These humans are her friends. She won't need to worry about her movement being slowed down, she won't need to escape.

"Zeke?" She whispers into the vast room, turning her attention beyond the pillow, blinking into the murky darkness of the room. The daylight is not quite illuminating the space just yet. The few rays of hazy morning sun really only succeeding in lighting the room to a muted gray. Her eyes settle on the bed, more specifically, on the giant occupying the bed. The figure is bundled into the blankets, she can't make out any of their features. "Uh, Marcus?" Her voice trembles, but she tries not to panic. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this. Maybe she fell asleep on the couch and one of them moved her into their room. That seems like something Marcus would do. Though, she's been in Marcus' room before. It didn't look like this.

Her mind spins. All at once trying to rationalize what's going on and trying to figure out how to get out of this situation, but before she can think of a plan, the dark figure in the bed shifts. Massive limbs stretch out from the blanket, the shadowy figure looking more monstrous by the second as it's form is obscured by darkness and the spiraling panic that has begun clawing it's way into the back of Isabell's mind.

In one swift motion the blanket is tossed aside and the being swings it's legs over the edge of the bed, stretching up with a groan and rubbing it's face with the palm of their hand. It's eyes glint as it settles it's gaze on her form.

"Oh good, you're awake," the voice is low and entirely unfamiliar. If alarm bells weren't going off in her mind before, they are ringing at full volume now. Any intention of trying to stay calm has flown out of the window. One objective shoves it's way to the forefront of her consciousness.

Run.

She fumbles over the plush ground, her injured leg is stiff and only slows her down further as it feels like her own limbs are betraying her by protesting this movement. She fights her way towards the edge of the pillow. Once she's on solid ground she can figure out a plan.

There's a scraping sound, and suddenly a warm light floods the room as the giant strikes a match, lighting a lantern by his bedside.

"Hey, careful princess, you're getting close to-"

She ignores his voice as she slides off the edge of the pillow, ready to feel solid ground beneath her feet. Her heart lurches as her foot instead touches down right on the edge of the dresser. She was in too much of a hurry to get off the pillow she didn't consider that there might not be any ground to escape to. She scrambles to catch her balance to no avail, her momentum drags her backwards, and just like that, she's falling. She barely registers the flash of movement as the strange giant swears under his breath, lurching forwards to catch her.

She only has time to let out a short shriek before the wind is knocked from her lungs. She lands prone, on her back in the center of this stranger's waiting palm. His fingers are curled over her protectively. Time seems to slow down as both of them struggle to catch their breath and slow their runaway heartbeats.

"Shit. Princess are you-" the fingers unfurl, revealing the handsome face of her captor. Handsome... where did that word come from? It might be the adrenaline from almost dying for maybe the third time this week, but it's hard not to notice someone's features when their face eclipses your entire sky. And whoever this human is, it's hard to ignore the fact that he has very nice features. Her cheeks warm. And of course, here she is flinging herself off of furniture.

She has got to stop meeting humans like this.

Dark curls fall into his eyes, his lip pulling into a pout of confusion "What- who? Uh," his large brown eyes blink down at her. His eyelashes are so long. No. Focus, Isabell. Stranger danger. "Sorry, you're not ... You're not Lark."

"Uh, I'm- no. Um. I," she sits up in his palm struggling to find her voice. Though, she's unsure if it's because of the immense size difference, the fact that she has no idea where she is or where her friends are, the fact that she almost just died, or the fact that she was rescued by this giant who is entirely too handsome. "Isabell. Is- uh is my name. Sorry. Uh. My name is Isabell. I don't- I don't know how I got here." She pulls her uninjured knee into her chest, letting her other leg stretch out in front of her.

His eyes scan over her. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees the stitches in her leg, "My stars. What happened there?"

"I fell out of a cabinet?" Her face burns, her graceful track record has been getting more and more tarnishrd lately. "Um two humans have been helping me. Zeke and Marcus? Do you know them?"

"You think I would know them because we're all humans? Do you know every fairy in the world?" He asks, a playful glint catching in his eyes as one corner of his mouth pulls into a lopsided grin.

"No, no I just thought. I mean how else did I get here I- wait. Fairy? What's a fairy?" She looks up at him curiously.

"Arent you-" he looks her over again, more quizzically this time. With a tilt of his head his eye flick to her back. "I guess not," he notes her lack of wings. "anyway um. I'm Deckard. I don't know your friends... And ... I also don't know how you got here."

He explains to her what a fairy is, and how he was recently helping one out. It seems as though they've switched places somehow. When he went to bed, he had a fairy on his dresser. Now, he has... Isabell. Curious.

"Okay. Well, Isabell was it? Don't you worry. You can stick with me until we get all of this figured out." That same crooked grin graces his face, and in that instant she knows that this boy might just be more dangerous than any other human she's ever met before.

~*~

Somewhere across the universe, in a time beyond princesses and kingdoms, a fairy awakens in an apartment.

She knows instantly that she is very far from home. Did Deckard sell her off? Again. What a stupid, lying, snake. She can't believe she fell for it a second time.

Deckard.

Resident heartthrob.

All the girls love him, he only loves money.

She should have known better than to trust him again. With a sigh, she sits up, taking in her surroundings and seeing what mess she's stuck in this time.

The first thing she notices in the room is a large rectangle spilling out unnatural light. Pictures and colors dance across the screen as chatter pours out from this strange device. Her wings twitch as she is transfixed by the sight. What type of enchantment was cast to achieve such a feat? She must have been given to a very strong sorcerer. Spell components. He's sold her for parts. A deep shard of dread lodges in her gut.

She tears her eyes away from the magical rectangle, wondering bitterly how many times Deckard plans to sell her off just so he can steal her back.

What a lucrative business model he's created.

That is, if he intends on stealing her back again. She chases the thought away, not daring to even think about that. Of course he'd come back for her. He wouldn't-

She freezes, her wings going rigid at the sound of movement behind her, saving her from her own thoughts. Though "saving" might be too generous of a term. She whirls around to see a human stretched out on the large piece of furniture behind her. Instantly, she's on her feet. Is this the person that is responsible for the enchantment on the rectangle? The sorcerer.

"Oh. I didn't mean to fall asleep out here," the giant mumbles, sitting up. "Did you sleep alri-" the words die on his lips as he looks down at her. His brow twitches together, seemingly as confused as she is. Certainly one doesn't forget purchasing a fairy. Just what is she dealing with here? She takes him in, acutely aware that he is doing the same to her.

His clothes are odd. The construction of them is unlike any of the styles she's seen before. He has markings all along his arm, and two rings of metal protruding from his lip. A glint of metal cuts through his eyebrow as well. Is this what human sorcerers look like? His dark hair is pushed back away from his face, still appearing well put together though he obviously just rose from sleep.

They stare at each other tersely before the human speaks up.

"Where's Isabell?" His brow twitches together, his lips part as though he has more questions, but whatever words wants to say find no purchase in his voice. His mouth flattens into a line, he looks pensive.

"I don't know who that is," she raises her chin, refusing to be intimidated by this human's piercing gaze. "What did Deckard charge you? If I'm lining his pockets, I want to know what I'm worth." Her hands ball into fist by her sides, her wings twitch with frustration. The human's eyes flick to her wings, tracing over them before he takes the rest of her in again. He takes his time, apparently in no hurry to respond. "What? Are you surprised that it can talk?" A mocking sneer fills her voice. The human's brow twitches once more. Her insulting tone seemingly having no effect against him, he looks at her like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

"I apologize if this is rude but... what are you?" He frowns as if the words are sour on his tongue.

"What kind of sorcerer is unfamiliar with the fae?" She scoffs, "obviously, I'm a fairy." She turns to flutter her wings, looking up at him incredulously.

"I'm not- " he does that thing again. He looks like he wants to speak, before thinking better of it and pressing his mouth flat. "You haven't said a single thing that makes sense," he says finally after a heavy pause.

She stares up at this human, unsure of what to say. If Deckard didn't sell her off, then how did she get here? Besides, who's this Isabell person? And why would a human have such a tiny couch? Glancing down the the coffee table she's on, there are actually quite a few objects that are scaled to a being of her size. What is going on? Every new thing she discovers only arouses more questions in her mind. Keeping the human in the corner of her eye, she takes in the rest of the room. The walls are a sleek off-white. Daylight filters in through the windows, muted through drawn curtains.

"You can fly?" The question comes from nowhere, she turns back to the human.

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

The human hums dispondantly in response, electing to fidget with the piercing in his lip in lieu of giving her a real answer.

"I'm a fairy," she enunciates each word slowly, "the wings aren't just for decoration," her wings twitch irritably. "What kingdom do you belong to? I don't recognize this architecture. Nor do I recognize the cut of your jib. Certainly you are not from the Aesteriun Planes?" She looks him over, everything about him is foreign.

"I really need you to just say one thing that makes sense," the way he blinks down at her as he speaks tells her that she is just as foreign to him.

"How did I get here?" She asks in the simplist terms she can.

"I don't know," he replies with an easy shrug of his shoulders.

"You didn't buy me from Deckard?"

"I am morally opposed to the concept of people as merchandise," his words have a sudden venom. He takes a short breath, "This Deckard person were you ... Did he hurt you?"

She laughs bitterly. " I don't know where the hurting stops and the helping begins with him."

"That's not... Are you okay?" Worry tinges at the corners of his eyes.

"Obviously not! I don't know where I am, or who you are! And you are no help whatsoever."

He looks at her for a long moment. "Uh Marcus?" He turns his attention to the hallway. Hopefully this 'Marcus' character will be more helpful. "Are you up? uh. We have a," he looks back at her once more, trying to finish his thought, "situation."

A situation.

"I will have you know," she flies up to be eye level with him, he reers back, quickly putting distance between them. "I am not a situation. I am a princess. If you would be so kind as to return me to Deckard, I would much appreciate the help."

He's all too predictable. There he goes again, opening and closing his mouth searching for words, but finding none. She scoffs, settling back down on the coffee table and crossing her arms. He speaks up, having finally decided on what to say,"You want to go back to the guy trying to sell you," it's a question, but he says it as though its a statement.

"Yes that's exactly what I want! Why are you making this so complicated!"

"Marcus?" Zeke calls again, a little louder this time.

[pookiebearmick]

weekly tag wednesday 👀🌈❤️✨

thanks bbs for the tags!!! @gallapiech @spookygingerr @thepupperino @jrooc 🥰🥰🥰

Name and ao3 handle: Deckard, pookiebearmick

Current Location: My home!! 👏

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? One day I will make little fanart but for now I've only written a few things and made a couple of gifsets hehe, I like this little ficlet I wrote and this gifset I made!! ✨ (if u wanna send me a prompt i would write some shit for you OR if u have some scene(s) you want a gif of i might be down for that - send me an ask!)

Why is it your favourite? I love fluffy shit and I think Ian hiding in the pool is SO funny (plus I hadn't seen a "pls Mick" gif and I needed it lol)

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? I feel a mix LOL gifs take so long and the most frustrating thing for me is always having too big of file sizes to actually upload them on this godforsaken website 😭

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Okay look I am SO behind on reading any fics, I've been in a "I don't wanna read" mood lately so I've mostly been listening to little YouTube vids or watching Shameless clips when I would usually be reading so I think it might be what do you know? by @em-harlsnow (so cute btw, def worth the read) 🥰

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I'm with Pie on this one, Things Beyond Mistake by Grayola lives RENT FREE in my head 24/7 my god.

Favorite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? Big fan of fluffy soft husband shit, enemies to lovers, slowburn, and slice of life 🌈❤️

Least favourite? I don't love the omegaverse stuff lol, just not my thing!

Secret or surprising kink or trope? I don't think so? I don't know that I'm very secretive with the things that I enjoy reading LOL

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? I feel pretty energized for a bit and super excited about the thing, but then mostly just like relief at finishing a task TM (even if it's not a required thing but just a personal "I wanna do this" thing)

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: I'd say my partners 🥰

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Play snails in the Discord server lol I love that stupid little game. If I'm really feeling the bad day I'll either find a comfort fic (thank u Boy Best Friends by @whatthebodygraspsnot and from way up there (you and i, you and i) by @sam-loves-seb or if i'm feeling something longer Suncatcher by @wehangout) ✨

anyways i've yapped long enough lol, tags below the cut!

if you wanna!! (sorry if you've been tagged/posted already i've only been on for a bit and might not have seen your post yet hehe) @heymrspatel @mickeym4ndy @burninface @rxinbowwparadise @twinklyylights @transsexual-dandelions @transmurderbug @celestialmickey @gardenerian 🥰🥰🥰 also if u weren't tagged at all this is ur tag!!! i'm missing so many people lol

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 2

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Content warnings: None, still pretty light here.

It wasn't long before they reached a small encampment where another woman called out to the one who had been guiding Morgan. "Fiona, I swear you're the worst scout we have. There's something following you, you know."

The rogue - Fiona - put her hands on her hips.

"I'll have you know, Akara, that this is an adventurer. He's going to combat our evil."

"And why didn't you send him to the den?"

"I just wanted your blessing, ma'am."

"More like you didn't want to go out of your way." The woman, evidently a superior of some sort, looked Morgan over with a cool gaze. "There's a monster den about half an hour's walk to the west of here. They've been giving us some trouble. If you can exterminate them, we'll talk."

Talking was very low on the list of things Morgan wanted to do. But eliminating a nest of evil creatures - that was a good task, easily defined with no messy human contact. And, of course, it would also contribute in a small way toward restoring the Balance, to fulfilling the request that had sent him out here in the first place. Surely it was more than just one den causing problems, but they likely wanted to test his ability. He nodded to show he'd understood, then turned to go. The two women continued to talk as he left.

"Is he mute, or what?"

"Nah, he talks. But listen, you'll never believe this -"

He stopped listening. There were more important things to think about, like whether or not it would be worth the effort to concentrate on making clay golems instead of using skeletons. He debated as he walked, keeping an ear out for sounds of danger. Skeletons were plentiful in these parts, he'd discovered. So that was convenient. He paused to raise two out of a boggy patch of ground. Two was a good number, enough to draw enemy attention away without draining his energy too much. He could only manage one earth golem at a time, but if other risen skeletons were attacking the Sisterhood... yes, the extra effort was probably worth it to ease future interactions. He could always reserve the skeletons for use away from the encampment, lay them back down into the earth outside their view.

Morgan stopped, crouching down to touch the ground. He sent out a tendril of magical energy, spreading it thin to form a humanoid shape. The earth lifted, obedient but slow, a form rising up ponderously. It took almost a minute to fully form, and Morgan was breathing hard by the end of it. It was a small golem, only a little taller than him but considerably sturdier. It would do for now. He was admittedly a little out of practice, but he resolved to keep working at it. Later, after this den was taken care of.

It was early the next morning by the time Morgan returned to the rogue encampment. The nest of imp demons had presented a challenge, but not an insurmountable one. He'd had to rest afterwards, taking a few hours to meditate. It wasn't quite sleeping, but it was close enough. He'd also remembered to put his skeletons back into the ground outside the view of the little town. A clay golem plodded along by his side; he was just more comfortable with at least one construct to protect him.

A familiar voice raised a call as he approached the town gate. "Hey, ghoul boy's back!" The encroaching forces of darkness must have taken a toll on their numbers, Morgan surmised. Why else would a scout have two watch shifts so close to one another? The sooner he could get to the root of the problem, the better - for all of them.

The gate rolled open and a new woman approached. Judging by her more impressive-looking armour, Morgan guessed her to be some sort of commander. When she spoke, she certainly had the tone of a leader.

"I didn't think we'd see you back here, outlander. Did you clear the den of monsters?"

"They were demons, not monsters." He hung back by the gates, reluctant to enter without an explicit invitation.

"Demons. Monsters. I don't care what they are other than dead. Are they dead?"

"Yes."

"Good. Welcome to the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye - what's left of it, anyway. Fiona says you're here to cleanse the evil from this place. She also says you came out of the woods alongside some skeletons, so I'm not sure what to believe. Tell me about yourself, stranger."

A few more women clad in light armour had appeared, hanging back behind their leader. Not so different from the imps he'd just finished with, Morgan thought - skittish, wary. He decided to keep that comparison to himself. No sense in actively antagonizing them. They were already poised to dislike him based on his school of magic, based on his experience so far. It was possible that whoever had sent the request to his Order had done so in secret. It was also possible that they had passed on already, given the sorry state of things. He tried to skirt the issue delicately.

"I am a follower of Rathma. We are charged with maintaining the Balance between light and darkness. We received word of a source of evil nearby that threatens to disrupt that Balance. I seek to destroy it. If you can direct me-"

"The priests of Rathma are necromancers, are they not?" This was the woman from before, Akara. He hadn't noticed her standing behind the rest of them. He recognized the disdain in her face, her voice. He'd been hoping to avoid this type of interaction, but he'd never been able to figure out a good way to dodge the question without lying outright. And while he could technically lie - there wasn't anything physically or magically preventing it - he had never developed the barest shred of skill in the art of deceit, and it was impossibly difficult to guess what people would or wouldn't believe in any given situation. In cases where the truth would be unwelcome, the best option was usually to try to deflect.

"I don't intend to do you any harm," he tried.

"Answer the question, then. Yes or no."

Well, it had been worth trying. It seemed like Akara knew the answer anyway, and just wanted to hear it from him, for some reason.

"Yes."

Most of the women took a horrified step back, grimacing in disgust or fear. He didn't let it bother him on a personal level - it was easiest to work from the assumption that everyone would have these sorts of feelings toward him, based on either his appearance or his affiliation - but it rarely bade well for situations like this in which he needed information. The commander didn't flinch, which was heartening. She turned to face Akara.

"We can't afford to be choosy right now, Priestess. Whatever his methods, this is the best chance we've had in a while. I'm not going to waste it." She turned back to Morgan. "You'd do best to start by finding Deckard Cain. Word is, he knows just about everything there is to know. If he still lives, he should be able to tell you more about the evil that blights our land here."

He listened carefully as she described this scholar and his last known whereabouts. It was a good plan, to gather as much information as possible before properly facing down whatever evil had rooted there. It would likely take a few days to reach Tristram, which would give him time to work on his golems. He was pleased with these developments until the commander turned to address the women huddled behind her.

"Blaise, you'll go with him."

What? No, this wouldn't do at all. Other people just complicated things. What Morgan needed was the simplicity of solitude with his golems. He raised his hands in protest. "Madam, I really don't-"

"What the fuck, Kashya?" That was presumably Blaise, voicing a much louder objection. "Are you still mad about that thing last week? I said I was sorry, I don't deserve-"

"That wasn't a request," Kashya said calmly. "I think you're the best one for the job, and I won't hear any arguments. Now get your things together for the journey." The assembled rogues huddled in a group, chattering quietly amongst themselves as Blaise turned on her heel and stalked away. Morgan took a few steps toward their commander.

"Please, madam Kashya, I ask you to reconsider-"

"When I said no arguments, I meant it. Two heads are better than one. Now you can wait outside; you're making my girls nervous."

Morgan waited outside. It was clear that the matter was not open for discussion. He guessed that pushing it further would only serve to alienate the single person who seemed at all willing to work with him. One was better than none, so he would try to stay on her good side.

[omnivorousshipper]

What if: Owen and Roman are going to get married legally but when they’re there, the papers person demands for Roman’s divorce papers. Where and when did he get married? Roman asks himself. Then he remembers, one day he got drunkenly hooked up with someone, played around, and accidentally got married. Now Roman (and a very pissed off Owen) have to go find Roman’s spouse, and demand a divorce.

🤣🤣 I swear that will be a canon thing! Roman would absolutely do this! Poor Owen! You should have looked up if you were sleeping with a married man or not!

~~~

Roman kept shifting his weight from one foot to another as he waited with Owen. Their hands were tightly clapsed together as they stood in the city's clerk's office to receive a marriage certificate

"Are you sure about this?" Roman whispered, probably for the dozenth time that day

When Roman had woken up that morning, he had found Owen laying on his chest, with head laying on Roman's stomach

"Do you want to get married?" Owen asked suddenly

Roman's eyes had nearly popped out of his head at that question. Why did Owen love trying to give him a heart attack as soon as he woke up?

But, it hadn't taken Roman long to think about marrying Owen

The possessive part of Roman cheered when he realized he could call Owen "his husband" if they got married

One quick nod, and Owen was shoving Roman out of the bed and towards the shower. It might have taken them even longer after that to actually leave

However, when they started driving towards the clerk's office, a different part of Roman's mind spoke up

Should they be doing this?

"Of course I'm sure, Ro." Owen smiled at him. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure."

Roman nodded, but his nerves were still on edge. So, he tried his tried and true method of distraction: humor

"Do I still get to tell people I was the one who proposed?" He asked and enjoyed the amused snort Owen let out

"Why not? Make it as cheesy as you want."

"Oh, I most certainly will." Roman smiled widely at his future husband

"Mr. Pearce? Mr. Shaw?" A woman called them forward

Perfectly in step, they came forward. The woman looked at them indifferently as she handed Roman a pile of papers

Looking down, Roman frowned

"These are divorce papers." He said, staring at the woman in shock

"If you and Mr. Shaw wish to get married, then you will have to leave your current marriage. State law is only two people can be married at once."

Roman blinked

When the hell had he gotten married?!

~~~

"I can't fucking believe you!" Owen spat as he angrily paced in front of Roman

Leaning against his car, Roman was only half listening to Owen's ranting. He had already been shouting at Roman for the last twenty minutes in the parking lot outside the clerk's office

Numbly, Roman stared down at the divorce papers

Apparently he had been married for three years without knowing it

"Deckard even told me that I should look into your bloody history!" Owen hissed, and threw his arms up.

Flipping a page, Roman looked down at the person he had been married to

Hayley Wicker

Roman had absolutely no clue as to who she was

"I knew I shouldn't have even bothered asking you to marry me!" Owen seethed. "I knew it would go up in flames!"

Roman's head finally snapped up

"What?! Baby, no!" Roman quickly said. Throwing the divorce papers into the car, Roman rushed over to Owen. He desperately wanted to hold him, but Roman knew he'd be missing a few fingers if he tried. "I'm sorry. I had no idea this would happen. I didn't even know I was married!"

"How the bloody hell do you not remember that?" Owen hissed and leaned his face into Roman's, their noses almost touching.

"I don't know!" Roman almost shouted in frustration. "But, god damnit, Owen! I do want to marry you!"

"Really?" Owen asked quietly, his whole demeanor changing. His shoulder sagged and he looked at Roman with pleading eyes. "Are you going to divorce her?"

"Of course." Roman blurted out. "I can't even remember her. I bet she'll be happy to be free of me as well. After that, we'll get married; I promise baby boy."

Owen still looked dejected, but he nodded

"Fine."

~~~

Pulling up to a normal house in the suburbs of LA, Roman could feel his stomach doing flips

Who knew he was going to get divorced and remarried in one day?

"Just stay here," Roman leaned over and gave Owen a peck on the lips. "I'll be right back."

Owen didn't say anything as he slouched in the passenger seat and glared ahead

Sighing, Roman hoped he could at least make it up to Owen during their honeymoon

If Owen still wanted to marry him after this

Grabbing up the papers, Roman got out of the car and tried not to run to the front door

Taking a deep breath, Roman knocked on the door

"Just a minute!" A woman shouted

Fidgeting, Roman waited

After a moment, the door opened to reveal-

"Can I help you?" Hayley Wicker asked him. Her braids were pulled back under a headband, while sweat pooled on her forehead. In her arms, was a sniffling toddler

"Uh."

The kif blew a raspberry at him

"Yes?" She asked testily

"Um." Roman cleared his throat. "Do you remember me?"

"No...?" She said slowly, and squinted her eyes at him. After a minute of looking at him, her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. "Oh my god."

Roman didn't say anything

"You're that guy from the party!" She groaned in frustration. "Sorry, I was pretty drunk that night, I don't remember much of it."

"Same here." Roman coughed. He didn't even remember the party she was talking about. "Do you remember us getting married?"

Hayley whipped her head around to stare at him

"What?" She snapped

"We apparently got married that night." Roman showed her the divorce papers. "I didn't know about it until I tried getting married today."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry about that." She said and readjusted the kid on her hip. "My fiance and I were planning to get married next spring. She would have been devastated to hear about this."

"Yeah, my boyfriend wasn't too happy either." Roman chuckled nervously. "So, would you be able to sign? I can't give you half my money, but I can give you an early wedding gift if you'd like."

"I mean, I wouldn't say no to it." Hayley smiled at him

"Don't worry about it." Roman assured her and handed over the papers, which she readily took from him.

~~~

"I can't believe we're finally married." Owen purred into Roman's ear as they walked hand in hand towards the door to Roman's penthouse

"Believe it, baby." Roman smiled at him. "Cause I'm never going to let you go."

Owen's eyes darkened at that and he licked his lips

They stopped in front of the door, and Roman fumbled for his keys. As he opened it, he froze

"Ro? Something wrong?" Owen asked, and frowned at Roman's actions

Not saying anything, Roman smirked wickedly

Quick as a snake, he lunged for Owen

"Ro!" Owen yelped

Before Owen could process what was happening, Roman had his arms under his knees and back. Without thinking, Owen wrapped his arms around Roman's neck

"Roman! You're going to hurt yourself!" Owen hissed

"No, I'm not." Roman grunted. Maybe picking Owen up was a bad idea

He and Roman did weigh about the same after all

Kicking the door open, Roman carried Owen across the threshold and couldn't be happier

"You bloody idiot." Owen shook his head but stared at Roman with fondness in his eyes

"But I'm your idiot." Roman purred and leaned his head down for a kiss

I hope you enjoyed friend!!

[thequimmqueen]

A Pile of Headcannons.

-Boomer likes to play with dards. it sharpens her aim. She Says it helps her relieve stress when she imagines the faces of her enemies in the Objective.

-Robby is a big reader,he has read many interesting novels. But Mostly Criminal Biographies and Novels with Dark Topics such as Murder and Psychological Horror. Tough he does sometimes read Magazines that keeps him updated with the current times since he was gone for a few years.

-Willow likes to Make Small Illustrations of what she narrates on her Poems.

-Willow Has a Dream Journal. In Her dreams,she meets people,and she writes about them to keep them alive in her mind.. or so she says.

-Xandra wears Braces.

-Scooter is a Great Mathematician, she can solve big equations in less than 5 minutes.

-Brody often forgets things, so he makes himself a lot of reminders. Like tying a small shoelace on his finger,programming alarms on his phone or pasting a lot of sticky notes everywhere; on his art materials,his notebooks,his computer and his room's walls even!

-Quinn is a Chess enthusiast. she often makes Chess Metaphors when explaining something to Timm or her employees.

-Johnny has a soft spot for Kids

-Amber became a Fireman for a very personal reason. A Reason related to Her Mother,Who used to fear Fire.

-Nick is a smartie when it comes to aquatic wildlife.

-Moe secretly likes Anime. he doesn't admit it becouse he thinks it's Lame.

-Allan doesn't like his face. He doesn't mind seeing it in bruises becouse it makes him look tough,very different from the foolish young boy he used to be.

-Crystal,ironically,doesn't trust in horoscopes.

-Prof. Fitz jogs in the mornings to keep himself fit and follows a color-based diet, hence of why he mostly eats green foods. (He likes green more than any other color)

-Iggy has an astronaut themed pajama

-Iggy investigates Meteorological phenomena

-Cori likes Seafood,but often tries to eat different meals to expand her paladar.

-Quinn likes to collect Clocks and watches and also knows how to fix their small engines.

-Rudy likes heavy metal

-Greg used to dislike Cookie when she first got home, But he eventually warmed up to her for being such an affectionate kitty.

-Trishna Likes The 50s aesthetic.

-Olivia has never tried any kind of alcohol in her life,and she refuses to do so.

-Mitch is the kind of person who swallows the toothpaste when brushing his teeth sometimes.

-Cherissa goes to Yoga lessons and likes incense.

-Cameo doesn't understand what's "D'n'D"

-Timm is very flexible and can Jump high heights thanks to going to interpretative dance lessons when he was a kid.

-Ivy Knows how to Play Piano.

-Mayor Mallow,tough he's quite temperamental,is actually pretty sweet and wholesome when you know him better.

-Prudence has a close relationship with her Grandma.

-Skylar's Favorite Subject is History

-Brody and Skylar's Most hated subject is P.E

-Lisa tries to learn a third lenguage besides spanish and english

-Fernanda knows how to knit ponchos,the one she wears was made by herself.

-Peggy has 4 older brothers Named Thomas,Turner,Hall and Deckard.

-Scooter cuts her hair herself. she diesn't trust hairdressers.

-Gino doesn't talk much,he only does when it's necessary. (or to make an order)

-Carlo is a Hopeless Romantic. He has a lot of cheesy old-fashioned romance novels and Movies in a Shelving in his Room.

-Besides Coffee,Quinn also likes Tea very Much.

-Connor is very good at physics,hence of why he can always throw the basketball right in the hoop. He calculates where and in wich angle to throw the ball in a short period of time,making him the most efficient Basketball player of his school.

-Sometimes,Sasha has nightmares about being lactose intolerant and not being capable of eating her favorite food. she eats a cheese sandwich the next morning to confirm if she's normal or not.

-Julep's Mother Taught her how to grow Plants,Veggies and Flowers in her garden when she was a child.

-Alberto likes to play with Penny's hair,he decorates it with Flowers and likes to brush it with his hands due to how soft and shiny it is.

-Clair loves to be in the Hospital In Rainy Days. There is a strange feeling of peacefullness.

-Sasha keeps small jewerly on those metal cookie boxes grannies use to keep threads and needles.

-Brody likes to collect Vintage items. He has this Polaroid Camera that his dad bought for him from one of his Work Trips that he loves a lot,he takes a lot of pictures with it and he pastes the pictures in the walls of his Room. (The first one he took with it is one in wich He and Skylar are enjoying the SugarPlex Film Fest together,it is a very important picture for him.)

HCs focused on Luau LePunch:

-Many of the Baddies shown in PL3 Are Fans of Luau,They go to his Box practices

-Luau admires Sarge for his strenght and Braveness,So he usually asks Him for advice whenever He's Struggling with his Fighting tactics.

-Luau worries a lot for Radley,He Goes to His House and prepares Him breakfast since the scientist doesn't know how to prepare himself a Meal. (+He Knows how to Cook very Well and wears a cute apron that says "Coconut Star")

-He Gets Angry easly When interacting with people he doesn't know,But with Friends He's much more Friendly.

HCs Focused on Radley:

-Radley is Mostly Nice and worries for others,but sometimes he can be an ass with someone who he might not agree with.

-Radley can be easly annoyed when someone strikes his nerves too often.

-Radley is pretty Stubborn,and sometimes it can make him act like a jerk; He won't listen to what others say,he won't open his mind to other ideas or Theories and will most likely ignore whoever who disagrees.. unless he has a legit confirmation of something related to his argument.

-When Radley was younger (around his 20s),he'd often cut his budget to Save money. he often got sick becouse of not eating enough, but since he couldn't afford the medicine he preferred to just lay down in his bed agonizing.

-Radley is either a Morosexual or a Sapiosexual- there's no in between.

-Radley would often help his mom to prepare meals as a child,but as an adult he sorta feels uncomfortable at the thought. He feel like he's going to burn down his house- He doesn't trust in his own cooking skills.

@elleflipline-stan

[alyseofwonderland]

Alyse Reads The Goldfinch, Part 2

What follows is my best attempt at liveblogging. I had the books as an audiobook in hopes that I could keep it from taking even more of my life from me. This was perhaps a mistake. I think I broke Siri trying to make notes. The notes that are rambly are the ones I dictated.

I entirely blame @rollono​ for my suffering. But I am also aware that it seems to give her joy. 

Every time I reference Tara, I am talking about @wellntruly​ who’s own live blog of the book was the only roadmap I had to follow in this waterlogged wasteland of a novel.

Part 1

I thought Tara was making up the Camel-hair coat bit but APPARENTLY NOT.

Architecture has that much to do with the city and or northern Europe, really? I mean, “whitewash” doesn't everybody do that?

Nina ( @proud-librarian​ ) is going to have a lot to say about their descriptions of the Netherlands and Amsterdam in this book. like oh my God!

Theo Deckard doesn't understand how thermostats work.

This isn't satire? I don't understand we're like three minutes in and it has to be satire. right. right?

Who the hell says my mother and I didn't like my father much? like what.... what is this? what am I reading? what is happening? what.... I don't understand.... okay maybe fine whatever

This feels like it should be... I don't know.... satire is the word I'm looking for again. I don't want to just repeat what Tara, said but Jesus. the start of the story is he is rich enough to have a Doorman but not rich enough to afford the fancy private school, and him and his friends break into vacation homes in the Hamptons. what is this? what is this? I just... just.... just write a Jane Austen or Lord Byron novel if that's what you want to do just do that. do that.

My audiobook app just turned itself off in the middle of a passage because it decided I didn't need to listen to Theo talk about whatever he was talking about.

Curse you, Donna Tartt, for also being in the "all things coconut smell like suntan lotion" club. I did not want to have this in common with you.

I am laughing so hard it turns silent into my steering wheel because the audiobook reader makes Tom Cable sound like a surfer dude from the 70s,  and I. cannot. handle. that.

"I like to think of myself as a perceptive person" is basically the way that I know that Theo has about Harry Potter level skills of observation when it comes to the people around him.

Y'all this book would be so much better if Theo actually thought like a 13-year-old that he is supposed to be in the intro part. That would just be peak comedy, which is really what I'm looking for.

Audrey Decker and the Laura Moon from American gods are now the two people that I have ever known to call men "puppy" which I still find alarming, in both cases. Surprisingly they also both die, so I guess more things they have in common.

The longer this book goes on the more clear it is that I am not bougie enough for its contents. ( timestamp 30 minutes)

(GIF BY @rollono​ BY MY REQUEST FOR EVERY TIME THIS BOOK MAKES ME FEEL POOR)

I just can't suspend my disbelief enough to think that a 13-year-old would know this much about their parent's job and be able to ask questions. I'm trying to think of what my dad was doing when I was 13, and I mean I know where he worked, and I know who his boss was, but if you tried to ask me daily issues or me giving advice... oh my gosh. I just can't. nobody talks like this.

I’m making a face akin to Kermit the frog. 

I threw up in my mouth a little at the description of Pippa walking past in the museum.

Did we just describe a 12-year-old girl's arms as marble? is that what just happened? did I just have to listen to that?

Theo has given me a lot of like “Golden State killer” vibes right now with his desire to poke around through all these people's homes and stuff. like this is clearly the Visalia ransacker's motivation in the 70s. I know too much about true crime, that's what's happening right now.

The true-crime serial killer alarms keep going off in my brain.

I know Tara already mentioned how ridiculous the Murphys bed story is but it really is incredibly ridiculous and breaks the tension of the entire scene that is occurring at the time (laughed uncontrollably to the point that Siri typed nonsense)

I get it, Donna, you know things. You do not have list every fire truck to prove it.

Let's take a child to a dinner at 3 am. Really Donna?

Why does Donna insist on giving me the text of signs around whats going on? Why did I just listen to the smoothie specials while an emotional scene is occurring?

Donna, did you just call Mrs. Barough a weasel?  [afronted gasp]

OI!  (me shouting when Donna says that Andy was weird for being lactose intolerant.)

Pukes in my mouth a little at the term 'high verbal'. I get it, Donna, you think you are smarter than all of us stop being a dick.

Donna Tartt would make it to r/iamverysmart in like a minute if she understood how the internet worked.

WHO TAUGHT HER ABOUT FMA?

Okay, so either Donna Tartt knows someone who lost a parent and basing this off them or like went through it herself because I am white-knuckling through the grief bits trying not to have my own trauma response to the situation. Or she wrote Theo with like the exact grief I had. Her incessant need to list things in a room is the only thing between me and a spiral of remembering my dad's death.

ANDY IS A RAY OF LIGHT AND DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE IN THIS FAMILY OR IN THIS BOOK!

Five whole hours before the first sight of Hobie. Like Jesus.

I miss Terry Pratchett.

Hobie thank you for making this book interesting again.

Hobie is now my main squeeze and I won't hear a word against him.

POE DIDN'T INVENT SCIENCE FICTION FUCKING MARY SHELLY DID. DONNA WHAT THE FUCK.

The Hobie part of the story just makes me more sure that a version of the movie should have been without the Baroughers (sp?) and only included Hobie and Pippa.

Any is a murderino. I love this baby boy.

Aw, I love Hobie so so much.

Donna if you call Andy annoying one more time you are gonna catch my hands. (She just referred to his voice as annoying twice in a conversation and I swear to god I will rip this character out of her snobbish clutches she doesn't deserve him.)

Theo on this we agree, I too enjoy Hobie.

Hobie is the only person who belongs in this novel and he's a god damn delight.

SEVEN HOURS AND THE PAINTING HAS COME UP AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN LITERAL HOURS.

Theo straight up using Spanish to fuck over his father is just *chef's kiss.

I can see how much contempt Donna has for Xandra is longer and deeper than this book will ever be.

I am going to suplex Larry Decker I swear to god. (i have a very particular trigger to spouses bad-mouthing the dead one due to personal experience.)

Necco wafers are no one's favorite candy Donna. You can't just say shit like that and expect anyone to believe you.

I have just realized that Donna Tartt has never been to a public library. How do I know? Witchcraft books are never on the shelves. Ask any librarian. They are stolen pretty much the moment we buy them.

I am standing dead in the tea aisle at the store because Theo just thought it would be “gay” to tell the doormen he has known almost his whole life he is gonna miss them.  (hours later I realize this is her backtracking in edits going "shit shit shit I have to add the repression in somewhere for those dumb readers that don't understand art" and I hate it more.)

Mrs. B is ready to physically fight Larry and I would pay real money to see it.

WHY DOES DONNA KNOW ABOUT DRAGON BALL Z?!? Step away from the things I love Donna I don't trust you near my media. (Also why she does reference it she clearly has NO concept of what DBZ hair would even look like to expect me to believe any child could achieve it.)

oh my god, Boris. I'm so happy to see you.

I am happy to report the audiobook narrator does not do an Australian accent for Boris. Thank the lord.

I knew I was going to love Boris but like a few minutes in I adore him.

It's interesting to me that Theo and Boris seem to have received similar amounts of attention/affection from non-parent adults, but while Theo finds it uncomfortable Boris soaks it in.

The Australian part of Boris's accent seems impossible.

*sobbing audibly into my keyboard* Popchyck

Boris you sweet like socialist.

Comrade Boris we need you in this election.

I'm sad he (Boris) doesn't get to go to college and like piss off every yuppie and hippie, and just make Philosophy 100 and Government 250 absolute hell for everyone.

Drunk Boris at Thanksgiving is a gift.

Me listening to this book before Boris: half paying attention, fucking around on my computer, doing chores. Me after Boris shows up: staring at the middle distance determined to listen to every fucking word because this prison sentence of a novel is finally interesting.

James: you said the author is a snob and you aren't enjoying the main character.  Me: yeah James: then stop reading it. Me: No, then Donna and her Anna Wintour knock off hair cut will win. James, frowning and backing out of the room: k sweetie.

6:30 am is too early to hear Theo Decker describe his bed as "our bed"

I WAS RIGHT. Boris belongs in college making every American white kid absolutely furious in every Poli-sci.

Larry Decker calling Theo and Boris his "kids" made my heart skip a beat.

So the nurse notices they don't have vitamins and smell but doesn't call child services. I mean I know that I learned that school nurses are less likely to call CFS on white kids than they are on black kids but like god damn.

The sheer salt of Theo refusing to learn the name of Boris’s girlfriend is so hilarious.

Now *this* is gay.

The truth is Theo is ready to cut a bitch.

Fellas is it gay to do shots while your boyfriend talks about his girlfriend?

Theo trying to set up Boris with like a nice polite girl who won't fuck him is fucking hilarious. This poor baby gay.

Theo (and Donna cuz she writes him) have never heard of learning disabilities and I will legit throw down.

LARRY IS A SCORPIO IN CANON?! I thought that was something from the fan fics. omg Ally hates this.

No one wears white sport coats Donna stop trying to make it happen.

Boris totally knows what's going on with Larry and he's just trying to look out for Theo because he loves Theo but oh my gosh Boris why do you make me feel so many feelings!

Please, Donna, I am begging you to stop telling me what the light from the sun looks like at different times of the day. I just can't take it anymore. Every scene of Theo in Xandra's house does not need the qualifier of what type of sunlight he is seeing. Some times fine. But every time?

My entire stomach just dropped when I realized what Boris has done, and I'm just I'm so sad. this is not how I wanna start my commute to work today.

I have just had my first moments of being very proud of Donna's writing, because long long time ago, in the same chapter, she had the bit about how Xandra will say "apparently" when she's being bitchy with Theo and now in a conversation where Theo isn't paying attention to her she says "apparently" to Larry and I just had to stop and say this, this is the writing I'm looking for Donna. This is clever and interesting and I LIKED IT. Stop making lists and do more of this.

Friendship ended with Book Boris, Movie Boris is my best friend now.

I don't understand how the director and the screenwriter of the film could move who said those lines and then not make it gay. Like, commit to your choice.

My mom: You finish that book yet? Me, angrily: No. My mom slightly worried: do you like it? Me: unclear.

NEW CHAPTER!

Theo, I need you calm all the way down when you are looking at Pippa.

Love this lawyer. I want to be his friend.

God poor Pippa. All the shit she goes through and she still has to put up with Theo's weird obsession.

Theo, you slid right back into the serial killer habits in a second and I want you to stop it.

Oh god, I feel that in my soul. Like "no sir you have it wrong I look more like the parent I like best." (also I do look more like my dad. like way more like him)

I am begging someone to get Theo some kind of hobby or help or something so he stops acting like a victorian ghost.

I am gonna have to get the actual book so I can see what weird spelling is going on with the text messages. I just know its weird. The narrator does it in such a weird voice.

We spent so much time dealing with emotional issues and other whatnot that going back to the bit about the painting feels like a huge tonal shift in the book. I'm like staggering around confused.

Literally no one uses strawberry shampoo.

Love that Theo ‘s final plan is the one Andy purposed an eon ago.

Salty that Theo is getting the cool college experience that Boris would have crushed.  I would have paid good money to watch him make the philosophy department cry.

[kermit in the car gif]

Yo! Theo struggling to deal with school is like exactly my semester after my dad died.  

The adults attempting to force him into different living arrangements is so what we dealt with post my dad’s death.

Grisha! (Russians the only people I trust atm)

Tara was right, Andy's death comes off like a joke!

I gotta say, Crime Theo is my favorite Theo so far.

I don't know which serial killer Donna was channeling to write the parts about Theo being obsessed with Pippa, but it is just so intensely a serial killer vibe I cannot even begin to describe the look on my face; the feelings I'm having. I'm just like this man is going to kill someone. he's going to kill a lot of people. not only that it's going to be a lot of women because he doesn't view them as people. that's what I'm getting from this it's. Theo doesn't think women are people.

If Theo was on reddit he would be part of r/niceguys and r/iamverysmart.

If I have to listen to him drone on about his fantasies of Pippa for one more minute I will kill myself in the baking aisle of Aldis.

HES HOARDING HER HAIR?! HER UNWASHED CLOTHES?!? Please someone put him in jail.

[the sound of me throwing up in the frozen food section as Theo describes Kitsey]

Donna don’t try to act like you didn’t add that foreshadowing yourself about Andy. You crack me up you relentlessly snob.

How is Theo just The Worst all the time?

Theo freaking out because two gay guys know what’s up with him is just *chef’s kiss

Me having seen only the movie: Theo and Boris should get redemption and a romance run away. Me now: [ gif of “Ive had enough of this guy” from IASIP]

I mean I understand that John Crawley was a coward in so many of his directorial choices, but the fact that he didn't put the second meeting of Theo and this Lucius guy into a crowded weird restaurant where they're both getting hit by the waiters as they go past is just the weakest move you could've made. because this makes it so much funnier.

I'm with Hobie.

honestly this book should've just been 20 hours of art crime and like to shave off a good 10 hours of LISTS because that's what 10 hours is. give me 20 hours of art crime. I would love to watch each sale happen that would've been riveting to read but instead.... this.

Bish, you like those earrings or I will cut you.

Theo salty, while Kitsey picks out new china, is so fucking hilarious.

him just like "why are we buying new plates when my job is literally to find plates that were made by craftsmen?!?!” but being too fucking repressed in his bullshit to say anything, so he just making some poor sales lady suffer.

my friend Ally: “Theo’s repression makes everyone suffer is a good summary of the book.”

Alternative version of this book that would have been 8 million times better: Theo gets into art crimes but is also a serial killer. We don't know the second bit but it begins to start dawning on us as women seem to disappear from his social circles and weird hints of thoughts about blood and rivers.  Bonus points if it ends with him on the run from the law with his only vaguely criminal (by comparison to serial killer Theo) boyfriend. We are left to wonder if they will be gunned down in the chase or if perhaps there will be one more body to great the river.

Theo's textbook serial killer nonsense is only comparable to the sheer petty gay energy he gives off.

The power trip he gets from being like "hahaha yes I have bagged the ice princess who wanted nothing to do with me when we were kids" is just so gross and hilarious.

Theo realizing he is not the only sociopath in the room is just *chef's kiss.

Boris, did you really send some guy to just watch your ex?

Boris, I am begging you. You have made Grisha so upset.

Donna shying away from describing Boris comes off, if you don't know who we are talking about, as weird and slightly racist.

You have the internet Theo, you can look up when movies are going to start. You are not living on the moors.

HOW IS THIS BOOK NOT A SATIRE OF AMERICAN PYSCHO FOR PEOPLE THAT HAVE BONERS FOR ANTIQUES?!?

Boris returns. I have almost forgiven him for what he put me through.

Maybe "fuck you" can be our always.

*tries not to cry when I realize that Boris' friends have heard about Theo

bless Aneurin for everything he did for this reunion in the movie.

Why is Boris such a slut? Why will I forgive him for anything?

Is it gay to think about the guy you used to jack off as handsome when you meet each other again?

Genetics means those kids can't be Boris' unless his mother was blonde. (Theo kind of agrees.)

My soul has left my body at the concept of Boris having a wife and kids.

I'm not saying I endorse crime, I'm just saying a mobster front with a pun in the name is really on-brand for me.

Knowing what I Know. That Boris thinks Theo is gonna try to kill him when they go for the "surprise" just makes the whole thing so tragic and sad.

Boris and his dog REUNITED AT LAST. I'm not crying. I'm fine.

Interesting that the next story we hear is about Gyuri's dead "brother" right after Boris says that Theo is "blood of his heart, his brother". Like. I might not be the biggest history buff in the world but I know gay code when I see it.

I mean I knew this was gonna happen, but I can't help but feel personally betrayed by Boris once again.

Donna, stay away from stuff about computers. Your attempts to use them make me, a technology expert, cringe.

Boris like "you don't deserve this dog. I deserve this dog."

"Babe I get that you are a WASP at heart but I need you to fight with me like a Russian now." - Boris to his disaster husband

"Did I lie?" "YES" (me laughing so hard I'm practically crying)

why does no one in this book appear to exchange numbers or like airdrop contact info.

Does Donna think that people only have iPhones?

Ally who is CTRL F reading this book "'Every few hundred pages she's like 'oh yeah, it's modern times...they're texting and there's emojis!' Seriously, there was the mention of emoji's and my soul escaped my body for a minute because it had no tether to time or space" @aces-low​

Off the top of my head, the name that Donna is not saying for this Horace to guy is Volkswagen.

Instead of being in the mob Boris should run an animal shelter.

Boris being Bitchy and jelly when Theo is talking to the German guy is just so cute. You two deserve each other with your weird shit.

If Donna wasn't a coward this book would have had Theo just getting eyeballs deep in art crime with Boris and his associates.

Adding a sin for making me listen to whatever that just was.

Things Donna forgot to list in "girl food": chicken wings, bread, rolls, other types of bread, garlic bread, a bit more bread, maybe cookies, eight more cookies, 20 more cookies, every type of chocolate humanly imaginable, jam, and barbecue ribs.

What do ankles have to do with being attractive?!?!?! this isn't the Victorian age! 

(from Ally re this comment: “I'm now convinced that every day Donna sat down to write this book she spun a wheel with different years on it, and that's the year the book was set that day”)

I didn't mind Kitsey cheating on Theo, because he doesn't even really like her. Until just now, when I realized that Mrs. B knows about it and she's keeping it from Theo, and my heart broke into 1 trillion pieces. she is the closest thing he has to a mother and he realized that she kept it from him, and I should not be crying in my car before my special Valentine night dinner.

James just walked in during a part describing Pippa and goes "Men writing women, huh?" and I had to pause the book, turn to him and say "a woman wrote this" and he just looks at me like 0_0

Mrs. B clutching Theo's hand so he won't leave her alone with Smalltalk-old-man is honestly the cutest thing in this entire book.

Hobie being able to be spotted from a distance at all times! I have a friend who is 6'5" and we can find him in crowds so easily!

Perhaps the funniest moment of this book is Theo saying "if girls loved assholes then Pippa would love me". buddy I'm going to post this entire book to r/niceguys

I WANT MORE ART CRIME! Why did you make me listen to 15 hours of boring nonsense when we could have had ART CRIME!

I deeply enjoy Boris's commitment to being a dramatic goofball, falling to his knees just be annoying.

Movie Boris appears in a dramatic way. Book Boris is just like there and also shoving food in his face and walking out of the party still eating all the food he just put in his cheeks like a chipmunk.

Hobie just like "if you want to run off with your gay love i'll cover."

Theodor Decker you get back in there and make sure that thief stays away from Nicole Kidman she has been through enough already!

Theo, I know that you don't actually have brains for anything besides drugs, crimes, being weird about women, and your own ass, but you could at least listen when people speak.

Theo is such a mess. He doesn't belong in modern times. He deserves to be Jack the Ripper.

I know the narrator is saying croissant the "correct" way. But every single time it happens I'm so fucking confused because who just leans into a french accent that hard for a single word?

Theo offers an actual good idea that Boris is going to use later and they all look at him like he's crazy.

I know "my brand" is "man holding gun" but listening to Boris assemble a gun I'm like "oh goodness I need to lay down". *fans self

Theo suddenly "I have made a huge mistake"

It's interesting to me how reluctant Boris is to make Theo a larger part of the heist. Theo reads it as frustrating but I read it like a kind of care and affection. He doesn't want his friend mixed up in something he can't handle, despite the fact that he wants Theo close so he can get him the painting back.

I see now why the heist in the movie was so fucking confusing. You need the Horst stuff and like a bunch of other nonsense that does not translate well to screen unless you re-write all the connections, which John Crowley was not willing to do.

Really love the "women drop their mark the first time" bit.

me: Theo I swear to god stop being high and sick in your room and go get some actual clothes and medication or at least don't make me listen to so much of it

this book is not 30 hours long. its 15 hours of a book and 15 hours of Donna going "gotta get that word count up or people with think I'm weak". Please, Donna. I don't need to hear this one thing happen for so long. It adds nothing to the tone, the themes, the plot, or the ambiance. You are just writing words for words sake.

The first suicide note was so well crafted that I honestly want Theo to kill himself now. If he can manage to write the others pretty okay I will be happy with this ending.

Don’t think I didn’t notice that the ghost of a dead loved one appeared on Christmas Eve.

I'm sorry who doesn't respond to "didn't you get my text?" with "my phone was dead" instantly?

me listening to Theo throw a tantrum at Boris because neither of them is capable of explaining themselves and like speaking as normal humans do: "It would have been better if Theo died"

Why must I be forced to listen to Donna make these scenes longer because these people don't talk like people?

Thud by Terry Pratchett does a much much better job of asking the question "can we trust our hearts and be the person we want to be?" And it honestly gives a better answer. And has you know, clever writing.

I thought it was like Over. I did. I was like "oh this is it wrapping up" ONLY THERE IS 30 MORE MINUTES AND I WANT TO SCREAM!

Me certain the book is over: i mean maybe this is a good ending

Me seeing i still have 30 more minutes: this is the worst book ever

This book held me fucking captive for over a week and all it left me with was like a few good lines, burning hatred for the main character, and the desire to go into Donna's home and rearrange all her stuff. 

also, I now hate antiques. out of spite.

don't read The Goldfinch. it's not worth it y’all.    

[thegildedcentury]

What We Talk About When We Talk About Luv: The Beauty and Horror of Blade Runner 2049′s Tragic Antiheroine

“I’m the best one.”  Luv declares as she struts away from K, fresh blood from a stolen kiss adorning her face as she departs, having again reduced her opponent to helplessness and having again decided, bafflingly, not to kill him.  

If we think of Blade Runner 2049 as a pretentious yet inferior movie, a pale imitation of its source material lacking all the intellectual and emotional resonance of the original, these four words spoken by Luv mean nothing, existing as a tossed off line spoken by a tossed off character in a film that accomplishes nothing aside from looking pretty and making you wish you were watching the original.

I disagree.  I think Luv is incredible, one of the most fascinating, nuanced, and profoundly tragic characters I’ve encountered in a very long time, a figure who both deserves and rewards our attention.  Though it’s easy to miss during an initial viewing (I certainly did) Luv has a rich, deep story arc that branches through the whole of Blade Runner 2049, one that both parallels and intersects with K’s story, the two characters informing each other even as they violently ricochet off one another.  Once understood, the tragic depths of Luv’s story don’t just reveal a remarkable character but enrich the movie as a whole, adding an extra dimension to a narrative already dense with meaning.

Luv, like our central protagonist K, is a Nexus-9 Replicant model, a product of the Wallace Corporation.  When we first meet her she is in the process of selling other Replicants as Off-World slave labor.  This may seem like a betrayal of the first order but, as we will soon learn, Luv does not see it that way.

Luv works directly under CEO Niander Wallace himself, acting as his personal assistant, assassin, and all purpose fixer.  While Niander Wallace is the face Technological Capitalism chooses to show the world--brilliant, eccentric, full of glorious and high minded ambition, a Ted Talk come to life--Luv represents it’s actual real world consequences: empty sadism, nihilistic violence, and ignorant self-aggrandizement, which is not to say that Luv is stupid.  Luv knows she is a slave but nevertheless exalts in her position because she is the best slave, Niander Wallace’s chosen instrument.  If Niander Wallace is God, and he certainly seems to think he is, Luv is his "First Angel”, the chosen means by which he enacts his will on the world.  Luv knows this, but she can’t bring herself to fully comprehend its ramifications, a failure of understanding that ultimately leads to her tragic destruction.

Any discussion of tragedy would be incomplete without at least a brief detour to account for the Ancient Greeks, the originators of Tragedy as Western Civilization knows it, so let’s get it out of the way now.  All tragedy results, on a fundamental level, from a failure to obey the message inscribed above the Oracle of Delphi: “Know Thyself”.  When you don’t understand yourself, you open yourself up to becoming prey of the Gods, what today we might call the Passions, though few Greek Tragedians would have recognized a distinction between the two.  (Euripides being the notable exception.)  The most famous embodiment of this kind of tragedy through self-ignorance was Oedipus, the subject of the tragedy Oedipus Rex by Sophocles.  Though a prisoner of fate, Oedipus effectively strolled into his own cage by letting his passions rule him, first by giving in to his wrath by killing a stranger he met on the road, and then by giving in to his lust by marring the wife of the man he killed.  When wisdom finally comes to Oedipus in the form of the realization that the man he killed was his father and the woman he married is his mother, it arrives too late to save him, and instead destroys him.  

The character of Luv in Blade Runner 2049 bears less direct blame for her own tragic fate, yet the mechanisms by which it operates are fundamentally similar.  Luv does not understand herself.  The result is pain and suffering, yet it is far more nuanced than it first appears.  What superficially manifests as depraved cruelty is, in fact, the result of a more fundamental lack, the sort of profound misunderstanding of her own nature that elevates her from the status of a mere hired goon to a character worthy of our consideration, and even our sympathy.

Unless I’ve overlooked something (which is entirely possible) Blade Runner 2049 makes no mention of whether or not Luv has the sort of artificial memory implants that prove such an integral part of K’s personality and story.  Knowing this is vital to understanding her character, and while there is no way to be absolutely certain, I believe Luv’s actions clearly demonstrate her lack of a synthetic past, maliciously depriving her replicant mind of what Eldon Tyrell in the first movie called “a cushion or a pillow for their emotions”.  As a result I believe, despite her often cold exterior, Luv is a raging tumult of conflicting, contradictory emotions she can neither understand nor control, paramount of which are her feelings regarding K.

Luv expresses interest in K during their first meeting, her fascination paralleling the sparks that fly between Rachel and Deckard in the old recording they both listen to.  Unlike the meet-cute that occurred thirty years prior in the first Blade Runner, the attraction isn’t mutual, and when Luv attempts to inquire further into K’s life he rebuffs her.  This quiet, polite rejection will ultimately have devastating consequences for both characters.  K makes a powerful enemy, while Luv becomes divided against herself, afflicted with powerful feelings she has no context for or understanding of.  As Kierkegaard said, life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.  Without any history there can be no understanding, we become disconnected and begin to float, easy prey for any passing impulse.  Knowing this doesn’t let us absolve Luv of her misdeeds, but it does give us a chance to reach a better understanding of her, as well as the more enigmatic aspects of her behavior.        

We see Luv cry twice in Blade Runner 2049. The first time is when she sees her master Niander Wallace stroking and bidding happy birthday to a newborn female replicant (credited only as ‘Female Replicant’) who he then proceeds to murder by stabbing her in the womb, a brutal crime committed for no real reason other than vent his frustration and illustrate a point in a monologue he’s delivering more or less to himself.  The second time is when Luv tortures and kills Lieutenant Joshi, K’s master.  Both instances involve a woman being murdered, stabbed to death specifically, their body violated with a piece of metal in a grotesque pantomime of the act of heterosexual lovemaking. (When Blade Runner’s symbolism isn’t Judeo-Christian it’s Freudian.  Freud would have diagnosed Luv with the three A’s: Ambiguity, Alienation, Ambivalence.)

When Luv cries with Niander Wallace it is in response to the nameless female replicant shedding her plastic birth caul and spasming into life.  Luv casts a fleeting glance upward as the tear rolls down her cheek as if in acknowledgement to a higher power that bestows the transcendent spark of life, but if that’s the case any pretense to the sacred is destroyed when Niander Wallace murders the newborn replicant, an act that serves as a vulgar reaffirmation of his own mastery over life and death.      

When Luv cries a second time it’s in response to her torturing Lieutant Joshi by crushing shattered glass into her hand, an act of sadism that concludes with Luv murdering the Lieutenant outright.  

The fact that Luv sheds tears in both instances despite their profoundly different circumstances may lead us to the conclusion that Luv’s tears have no real emotional resonance, instead being an involuntary autonomic response to any extreme stimuli, what is little more than a bug in her design.  It’s a natural assumption, but one that doesn’t stand up to scrutiny.

Luv is the best one, at least as far as her status as a consumer-grade product is concerned.  She is the pinnacle of Wallace design, the closest to perfection he’s yet managed to come.  If Luv had a fault in her genetic architecture that made her cry at inappropriate times, Niander Wallace would likely have disposed of her with the same dispassionate matter-of-factness  he disposes of everything that mildly displeases him.  Yet if Luv’s tears are genuine, how can we make sense of them?

The answer is the absence of her memories.  Without the mental foundation of memory that would provide her with a chance to ground the violent events she experiences and violent emotions she feels in context, Luv is helpless to control how she reacts, a condition her judiciously maintained cool exterior can only do so much to hide.  

The tears she sheds while witnessing the nameless female replicant’s birth and the tears she sheds while torturing and killing Lieutenant Joshi are both genuine.  This is naturally confusing since the situations are so different, but as the author Leonard Richardson writes in his book Constellation Games, (which I cannot recommend highly enough) crying does not mean you’re sad, it means you’re experiencing an emotion that’s too large to keep inside of you.  Blade Runner 2049 throws us off the scent because the first time Luv cries the cause is obvious, then when she cries for a second time it seems completely inappropriate to the situation, yet when we appreciate the emotional tumult storming inside Luv, both reactions begin to make congruous sense.  The first time Luv cries it is out of empathy and a sense of the sublime.  The second time Luv cries it is out rage fueled by a mix of resentment and jealously. 

When Luv first strolls into Lieutenant Joshi’s office she says in regards to K “I like him.  He’s a good boy.” an evaluation Lieutenant Joshi’s silence seems to affirm.  Lieutenant Joshi is a character who, let us not forget, is for all intents and purposes K’s owner and master, having the same power dynamic with him that Niander Wallace has with Luv.  Killing Lieutenant Joshi not only serves the practical purpose of giving Luv free reign to access Lieutenant Joshi’s computer and find K, but it also gives Luv a chance to eliminate a romantic rival, experience the catharsis of killing a human master in a way she never could with Niander Wallace (who she needs to reaffirm her status as the Highest Angel), and eliminate the person that has enforced rigid control over every aspect of K’s life.  She’s acting out of a very warped sense of duty to K, not quite the sort of redeeming "kinship” that led Roy Batty to save Deckard’s life at the last moment, but a kind of solidarity nonetheless.

When viewed from this perspective, the desires motivating Luv are very fundamental and very human.  She wants solidarity with her fellow replicants. She wants revenge on those who’ve enslaved her.  She wants to experience romantic love.  The fact that she gets none of these things, that she has been explicitly denied the capacity to understand what these desires are and how to act on them and is instead forced to derive comfort from her status as the best one, the best product, the best slave, is what elevates her as a character beyond the stark dichotomy of victim or villain to the higher echelon of tragic antiheroine.

Luv spares K’s life twice in open defiance of the spirit, if not the letter, of Niander Wallace’s commandments.  The first time is when she and her fellow Wallace fixers storm Deckard’s Las Vegas sanctuary and abduct him.  K fights back despite being wounded thus forcing Luv to beat him into submission, though when the time comes to move in for the kill, she holds back.  Instead she kills Joi, K’s holographic A.I. companion, crushing the emitter that contains her consciousness beneath her radiantly polished boot.  

Immediately before doing so she says “I do hope you’re satisfied with our product.”  Luv looks at Joi when she speaks the line, though it seems to be intended for Joi, K, and Luv herself, all three of whom are themselves commercial products of the Wallace Corporation.  It’s a line that can be read as pure sarcasm, yet when considered in the context of what we’ve been talking about, we can view it as a sort of question, and a sort of appeal as well.  Joi and Luv are both Wallace Corporation products, but Luv knows herself to be the best product.  There is an implicit “Why?” in Luv’s words and actions, an inquiry that demands an answer from K.  “Why Joi and not me?  Am I not the superior model?”  K choosing Joi over her is an insult to her attraction and an affront to her pride, yet the only way she can express her outrage is with violence.  By destroying Joi she demonstrates her preeminent status as a product, while also eliminating another rival for K’s affections.  

Luv departs without another word, leaving K alive.  It’s safe for us to assume that Luv hasn’t simply fallen victim to the classic bad guy cliché of incorrectly assuming the good guy’s dead.  They are are both the same model of replicant, there’s no reason for us to think she isn’t precisely aware of both K’s limits and his potential.  Luv is still intrigued by K in a way she doesn’t understand, and lets him live secure the the knowledge that they will meet again under similarly unpleasant circumstances.  By then the scales will have completely fallen from K’s eyes and he will be endowed with an unshakable sense of purpose, his own personal raison d'être.  Luv will not be so fortunate.

K, at great cost, comes to understand who and what he really is in time for him to act on it in a way that gives purpose to his life and, more importantly, his death.  Like all great villains Luv is K’s antitheses, a distorted reflection of him, what C.G. Jung might identify as his shadow-self.  K begins the movie doing the same thing Luv does, namely killing on cue in accordance with his design.  The difference is K encounters people who change his worldview, making him aware of the possibility of altering his circumstances.  Luv never gets that chance.  

The name ‘Luv’ is obviously dumb, the kind of dull platitude you’d find on a candy heart or in a rushed-off text message, and the fact that it is the name Niander Wallace chose to bestow on his First Angel shows the true indifference he feels regarding her, how the contempt he has for all life extends to her as well, despite his lofty rhetoric and empty praise. 

Names are powerful, but they aren’t enough to imbue one’s life with meaning and purpose, a fact illustrated when a massive advertisement addresses K by his adopted name, the name Joi gave him, calling him “A good Joe.”  Not only does this show that even something as personal as a name bestowed by a loved one can be corrupted and co-opted by Technological Capitalism, but that both Joi and the advertisement are probably making decisions based on the same artificial intelligence program, leading both of them to pick the same name out of thin air.  This works to expose K to the artificiality of the relationship he had with Joi, forcing him to seek out something more authentic and human.  It’s the sort of epiphany Luv is denied, so while she does seek to form a sort of relationship with K, the why and how of it completely eludes her, leading her to act on a sort of animal instinct that can’t distinguish between aggression and affection, two very different human Passions that appear to her as indistinct aspects of the same raw emotional yearning she becomes less and less capable of containing over the course of the story, a compulsion that climaxes with her beating and stabbing K nearly to death, then following it up immediately with a deep, soulful kiss. 

The final battle between K and Luv at the sea wall isn’t just a grim parody of the iconic scene of two lovers passionately entwined in the surf from From Here To Eternity.  (Though it is at that.)  It’s a baptism.

Christian baptism is a ritual where the physical is sanctified and thus made to represent the spiritual, its invocation of grace elevating the ritual to transcend the mundane and evoke the divine.  When Luv and K fight they are also sanctified by the symbolism surrounding them, which renders the conflict more significant than two people beating each other up.  It is the physical versus the spiritual, the sacred versus the profane, the meaningful versus the meaningless, an elemental confrontation between the loftier and baser aspects of reality.  For Luv the thing that matters most to her and carries the most meaning are her Passions, which aren’t in themselves bad, but when misunderstood and uncontrolled lead to destruction.  In her fury she attacks and defeats K, and in her infatuation she yet again neglects to kill him.  Her mercy is rewarded with death.

The final contest between K and Luv is their mutual attempt to drown one another, one that ends by demonstrating the ultimate disparity in their respective personalities.  Both Luv and K forcibly hold one another underwater for what are at first roughly equivalent amounts of time. K survives because he is able to exert enough control over himself to hold his breath until he can turn the tables.  Luv in contrast dies because she is a slave to her Passions.  Instead of holding her breath and waiting for an opportunity to regain the upper hand she rages, clawing and growling, resisting with all her unchecked strength until her life is totally spent.

K and Deckard partake of the waters, die, and are born again.  Luv is subjected to the same trial, but she is denied such grace.  She is the First Angel, the most raw and brilliant and terrible, and as such, she must fall in all her dreadful glory, our horrible, beautiful, drowned Lucifer.

Like the studio-mandated happy ending of the original Blade Runner that everyone loathes, there could be another ending to this movie, a more conventionally satisfying ending where K and Luv gain a deeper understanding of themselves and, in doing so, find the capacity to care about and even love each other.  It would be nice, but it would also deny Luv her final tragic grandeur, and us the vision of a true antiheroine.      

The actress Sylvia Hoeks’ portrayal of Luv is as eerily perfect as the character herself, a performance that easily ranks among the best popular depictions of uncanny quasi-humanity ever rendered, on par with Christian Bale’s Patrick Bateman, Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lector, and Rutger Hauer’s Roy Batty.  Luv is also different, a step beyond but also a step removed.  The sheer virtuosity of Sylvia Hoeks’ performance is largely based in restraint, the sort of illusion of control that Luv is so good at deceiving herself with that it’s easy for us, the audience, to be deceived as well.  It is right and good that we bemoan the lack of good female roles in popular cinema, but such objections can come to ring hollow when they come from an audience that routinely overlooks outstanding exemplars like Luv, a rendering that’s brave enough to not be obvious, whose peripheral status in the narrative does nothing to diminish.  I don’t think we’re going to see a great many characters equal to Luv in the future, not only because it’s rare for a concept this good to be executed this well, but the demographic of people who were once most inclined to notice such things are now largely intellectually hemmed in by an ideology that Blade Runner 2049 does not neatly fit into, and who thus deem it unworthy of consideration.  It is my ardent hope that it will eventually find a public worthy of it, just as its predecessor did.  It’s the reason why I’m writing this, why I’m proselytizing for Luv, who is, after all, the best one.  

OTHER PUNS I CONSIDERED WHEN TITLING THIS ESSAY

All You Need Is Luv

Luv Will Tear Us Apart

Luv Story

Luv Actually

The Luv Guru

Me Luv You Long Time

[theconservativebrief]

Republican leaders, pretty clearly, were annoyed when sexual assault allegations against Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh emerged but were never seriously troubled by them on the merits.

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell vowed to “plow right through” Christine Blasey Ford’s allegation that Kavanaugh sexually assaulted her when they were in high school before even listening to any testimony. Soren Midgley of the Federalist put it even more bluntly, publishing a story Tuesday morning titled, “Why Brett Kavanaugh should be confirmed to the Supreme Court even if he’s guilty.”

And virtually the entire party (with the honorable partial exceptions of Sens. Jeff Flake of Arizona and Lisa Murkowski of Alaska) has resisted any real effort to gather facts or information. At the end of the day, they like Kavanaugh and simply don’t care about Ford’s charges except as a political inconvenience.

Ford recalls that some time in the summer of 1982 (subsequent documentary evidence suggests July 1 as the most likely date), Brett Kavanaugh, along with his friend Mark Judge, cornered her in an upstairs bedroom of a center-split Cape Cod-style house in Montgomery County, Maryland, locked the door, and attempted to have his way with her — going so far as to put his hand over her mouth to silence her cries for help — before he drunkenly let her slip away.

Kavanaugh says this did not happen. But recognizing that Ford has no earthly reason to lie about this, Republicans are mostly coalescing around the idea that she is perhaps honestly misremembering. Sen. Ben Sasse (R-NE) said during the hearing: “I think Dr. Ford is a victim, and I think she’s been through hell and I’m very sympathetic to her.” He just thinks she’s somehow gotten mixed up.

But human beings are exceptionally good at recalling the faces of people they know and the central elements of traumatic events. To the extent that faulty memory is an issue, it’s much more likely that Kavanaugh at least temporarily forgot about what would have been to him a not-particularly-noteworthy experience that happened to coincide with one of his seemingly frequent bouts of heavy drinking.

While most high school seniors do not drink heavily (even in the considerably boozier 1980s), it’s of course not exactly a rare occurrence for an 18-year-old. And in a stroke of bad luck for Kavanaugh, the drunken antics of his social circle happen to be recounted in two books Judge wrote: Wasted: Tales of a GenX Drunk, and God and Man at Georgetown Prep. And they’re documented in surprising detail on Kavanaugh’s own yearbook page.

This meant he’s had to get out from under the fairly clear reality that he got blitzed, did exactly what Ford said, perhaps forgot all about it, and then had it unexpectedly threaten to derail his career ambition. So he did exactly what he did during his 2004 confirmation hearings: He offered a range of false and misleading testimony to Congress about his drinking habits.

Some of his current contentions about booze are clearly untrue (that he was of legal drinking age in Maryland as a senior), disingenuous (that he and his friends referring to themselves as “Renate Alumni” was a gesture of friendship, not a smear on the name of fellow high schooler Renate Schroeder), or simply risible (that admission to Yale Law School proves he wasn’t much of a partier).

On its face, his nomination should have died at the end of his testimony. But it didn’t, in part because of blind partisanship, but more importantly because of what was revealed in an NPR/Marist poll taken before he testified: 54 percent of Republicans believe Kavanaugh should be confirmed whether or not he is guilty of the sexual assault allegations against him.

Neither Kavanaugh himself nor the senators on the Judiciary Committee have pressed this argument squarely. But it’s pretty clear that a key driver of pro-Kavanaugh sentiment from the grassroots to the White House and, likely, to Kavanaugh himself is simply a conviction that what Ford said he did is not seriously wrong.

Mollie Hemingway, a writer with the Federalist, one of the media outlets most in line with the spirit of Trump-era conservatism, offered a bon mot over the weekend that made it clear she believes Kavanaugh stands accused of nothing more than what you’d expect from any red-blooded American man in a social situation.

Alert to Senate Democrats: dude here at the bar appears to be making a move on the attractive lady he’s here with. Should I alert FBI?

— Mollie (@MZHemingway) September 29, 2018

Rod Dreher, a conservative pundit deeply inflected by social conservatism, concedes that it is “loutish” to trap a woman in the bedroom of a spare house and try to tear her clothes off, but observes that lots of people do loutish things as teenagers only to mature later.

I do not understand why the loutish drunken behavior of a 17 year old high school boy has anything to tell us about the character of a 53 year old judge. By God’s grace (literally), I am not the same person I was at 17. This is a terrible standard to establish in public life.

— Rod Dreher (@roddreher) September 17, 2018

Rep. Kevin Cramer (R-ND), currently a candidate for US Senate, is one of the few elected officials to actually say what conservatives largely seem to think about this: that since Ford got away, it’s essentially a “no harm, no foul” situation.

Republican Congressman Kevin Cramer, the U.S. senate nominee in North Dakota called the Kavanaugh accusation “absurd” today because they were drunk and assault attempt “never went anywhere.” @CNNPolitics https://t.co/jc48DOKb6w

— andrew kaczynski (@KFILE) September 21, 2018

The very first weekend the allegations aired, CNN ran a telling segment featuring Republican Party activists from South Florida who simultaneously maintained that Ford’s accusations were an outrageous smear campaign and that Kavanaugh is merely accused of doing things that every boy does.

Being less professionally trained than the 11 men of the Senate GOP Judiciary Committee, these women give voice to the shadow argument that Republican professionals don’t want to make: The outrageous slander isn’t to say that Kavanaugh did what Ford says he did; it’s to say that what Kavanaugh did was wrong.

As Vox’s Constance Grady’s brilliant deconstruction of rape culture in the 1980s film 16 Candles shows, the social mores that prevailed when Kavanaugh and Ford were young were very different from the overt message about consent that prevails in America today. And while 16 Candles is an unusually noteworthy example because its primary intended audience is specifically young women, cinema of the late 1970s and early ’80s simply abounds with relevant examples:

Critically, even though all these films are depicting what we would today call rape or sexual assault, it’s very clear from the context of the movies that, in the fiction, the men are not doing anything wrong. These assaults are conducted by heroic protagonists that the audience is supposed to identify with.

There is real moral ambiguity in some of these movies (about Deckard’s work, for example) but there’s no ambiguity about taking advantage of a drunk girl (it’s her fault) or using a little light force as part of a seduction strategy (it’ll probably work and end up with her glad you did it).

You just wouldn’t make scenes like that in today’s films, especially given that in almost every case, their construction — and at times, their presence at all — is largely incidental to the main story.

But it’s obvious that the large change in official norms about consent overstates the amount of actual change on the ground. Sexual assaults remain frequent and remain infrequently reported, since the mechanics of both the legal system and corporate HR departments remain fundamentally unequipped to enforce contemporary views about consent.

And, critically, most of the people who made and watched those old ’70s and ’80s movies and found their depiction of sex and consent appropriate are still around and running most of America’s institutions. The Kavanaugh nomination, but also the broader #MeToo movement, is fundamentally about whether America means what it now says about consent.

There’s a concept in the social science of political revolutions known as the “revolution of rising expectations.” It describes a scenario in which people rise up against the powers that be not necessarily because conditions are getting worse, but because earlier events led to the expectation of rapid improvement that has not come to pass.

One way to think about the emergence of #MeToo over the past several years is as precisely such a revolution. A cohort of women raised to expect something better than 16 Candles treatment is challenging America to live up to its currently stated norms and values. But after a couple of instances in which investigative reporting brought to light previously unknown facts followed by swift justice, it’s become clear that an entrenched culture of “himpathy” presents a powerful challenge to that revolution.

On one level, Ford’s critics are doubting her story. But they actually all agree that her testimony seemed heartfelt and sincere and that she has no conceivable motive to lie. The doppelgänger theory of the case is fairly ridiculous — especially since there is no evidence of the existence of any such doppelgänger. But it seems like a more politically palatable thing to say than for Senate Republicans to simply shrug their shoulders and say, “Who cares?”

But we really should care. Slogans about believing victims aren’t just about believing factual recountings of past events. It’s about believing victims when they tell you that their experiences were a big deal and did lasting damage to their well-being. And seeing Kavanaugh face consequences for his actions would send a powerful message to young men — something that conservatives openly acknowledge but see as a bad thing rather than a good thing.

As the father of a son, I’d like my boy to grow up in a country that sends a clear and unambiguous message about consent and that delivers real consequences to people who unapologetically violate the terms of the deal. That’s how people learn right from wrong and can come up asking appropriate questions about affirmative consent, self-control, honesty, alcohol, and all the rest.

Republican senators were obviously impressed by the sincerity of Kavanaugh’s outrage at hearings last week. And he really did seem to be very sincerely outraged. But the pairing of absolute sincerity with multiple clear instances of dishonesty is in fact the scariest thing of all.

He’s not telling the truth about his conduct as a student in high school and college, but he’s totally sincere in his conviction that he did nothing wrong, and genuinely indignant that people would think to hold a powerful person accountable for mistreating girls 35 years ago.

And on some level, I suppose I can even sympathize — it has not, in fact, been standard practice to hold men accountable for sexually assaulting women, and I can see why it could feel unfair to be punished for something that so many other people have gotten away with.

But if change is going to happen, it needs to start somewhere. And Kavanaugh’s decision to handle these allegations from day one with angry denials and weird dissembling rather than an apology and a plea for mercy makes this an excellent place to start.

Original Source -> Republicans don’t care if Kavanaugh is guilty because they don’t think what he did was wrong

via The Conservative Brief

[thegreatunfinished]

It’s slippery in here: Twin Peaks, Trainspotting, and the dangerous complexities of nostalgia

The following contains spoilers for Twin Peaks and T2: Trainspotting. Weird combo I know, but hear me out.

2017 was the year of toxic nostalgia. We were desperate to escape into the past, to reject the heartbreaking complexities of the modern world, to make things great again and to take things back; so on and so forth. But it hardly ever worked out the way we wanted it to, and our world has got stuck in some weird sort of twilight zone, full of men holding plastic tiki torches and madmen building walls where once we had torn them down. Going back, trying to unnaturally force the toothpaste of time back into the tube of history, is always a little trickier than it first seems.

Two pieces of narrative art captured this wicked dichotomy: the seductive urge to go back and the realisation that even if you could, it mightn’t be a good idea. Ironically but entirely appropriately, both were resurrected remnants of the youth of Gen X & Y. And while the third season of Twin Peaksand T2: Trainspotting appear, on surface, to have not much to do with each other (weirdly, there are more drugs in the former than in the latter), the respective arcs and fates of Coop and Renton and friends might contain exactly the type of subtle, conflicted examination of nostalgia that our rose-coloured bespectacled world needs right now.

Director Danny Boyle indicates to us early on in T2 that nostalgia is going to be the central theme. The opening shots reach further back than even the original movie, giving us the first glimpse of our familiar protagonists as childhood friends. It’s a surprisingly saccharine opening gambit for a return to a world that we know of as anything but innocent, but it’s effective, and of course it’s just setting us up for a bitter rebuke later on. We cut to modern-day Renton: healthier than we once knew him but literally running at full throttle on a treadmill. Suddenly, his breathing gets tight and he falls, the implication being that his drug-ravaged body hinders him even in his new life. In these directly intercutting scenes, the past is both beautiful and dangerous, and it’s not done with him yet.

The first shot of Twin Peaks seasons 3 is also from the past: young Laura Palmer tells young Dale Cooper that she’ll see him again in 25 years. The next thing we know, Dale is old and he’s sitting across from the Giant-cum-Fireman, who’s really old. The shot’s in black and white, indicating to us that something weird is happening with time. As MIKE will soon ask Dale: is this future or is this past? We’re never quite told. Laura returns to say to Coop: you can go back now. Go back? Where? When?

The characters of T2 navigate their past like tourists, remembering odd moments from the first movie as they walk around their city like pasty Scottish ghosts. But this nostalgia is presented to us as quick, teasing and frustrated: we hear the opening beat of Iggy Pop, but we’re not allowed to hear any more. In Twin Peaks, our beloved characters are mostly held back from us for hours, and when they do appear it’s fleeting. Dale, a hero who’s existed in fans’ minds for decades, is taken from us as soon as he arrives and replaced with a clueless doppelganger. In both cases, we feel the storytellers struggling to engage with this exercise in nostalgia, and we’re told: this isn’t going to be as easy as you think. This isn’t Gilmore Girls.

In T2, the characters’ fondness for the past is expressed as an emotional stunting. Renton, Begbie, Sick Boy and Spud are all entranced, obsessed and traumatised by what happened before, and compelled to revisit it — like us, the viewers. In Twin Peaks, the storytellers use our desire for easy, clean nostalgia as a weapon against us. While Renton toys with totems of his youth (Iggy, heroin), tempted by their allure, Dougie Jones has moments of recognition of his own totems: coffee, pie, case files. Renton tries heroin and the results are anti-climactic. Dougie soon forgets his moments of clarity and returns to a stupor. Meanwhile, we watch on, grasping for totems from our past, and feeling increasingly conflicted about it.

The storytellers aren’t telling us that nostalgia is all bad, however — that’s far too simplistic. Spud’s nostalgia, and his ability to record it, saves him, while Bobby Briggs decodes clues from his dead father by investigating his own childhood. In both cases, nostalgia looks like it saves the day — though in actual fact, the revelations come from moving past the past, as it were, rather than staying stuck in it.

Both texts tease us for our desire to return. In T2, Diane appears briefly and wilfully non-consequentially — it’s not until later that a brief cutaway scene exposes Renton’s deeply-held regret at the loss of her in his life. In the most brutal case of pure nostalgia-baiting in Twin Peaks, Lynch and Frost make a middle-aged Audrey dance for us, explicitly calling the moment “Audrey’s Dance”, though of course that’s a title that exists in our world, not theirs. It’s as if they’re almost saying to us, with a sly grin: this is what you wanted isn’t it? Is this what you came for? The sequence, unsurprisingly, ends with a nasty punchline (setting us up for the exact same type of punchline that with which they’re soon to end the show).

Before the end of their running times, both texts will show us the very worst case extremes of unhealthy obsessions with the past. Renton and Sick Boy visit a bar full of nationalists who literally sing and stomp their feet about wanting to return a simpler, more racist time. In Twin Peaks, the worst side of nostalgia is represented maybe — just maybe — by Agent Cooper himself, who insists on literally travelling back in time to change the narrative of the past and save Laura Palmer. It’s an act for which he is punished, or at least is required to pay a great personal price for. Whatever you think of the ending of Twin Peaks, I find it hard not to read Lynch and Frost’s attitude the inability to let go of the past, as at the very least, deeply ambivalent, and possibly directly condemning. But whose nostalgia are they punishing? Coops? Theirs? Ours?

T2 ends in a similar fashion. Renton, having moved back into his dad’s house and staying in the same bedroom he was trapped in back in the first movie, finally succumbs to listening to Lust for Life, the audio lifeblood of the original movie. We’re left with the impression that Renton has reconnected with his past, and has found some peace, but at what ultimate cost?

Two heroes, delivered to the past, with massive question marks hanging over their choices, and their final fates. Two sets of storytellers, compelled to revisit their most famous creations, clearly conflicted over their own desire to do so, the commercial influences which got them there, and the nostalgic bloodlust of the audience that’s turning up to watch.

For my own part, here’s what I think Danny Boyle, David Lynch and Mark Frost are saying to us: enjoy nostalgia, dip into it, use it to anchor you like Bobby Briggs and centre you like Spud, but be careful not to go too deep, to become submerged entirely, like Coop. For though the past may seem golden and the present may seem broken in comparison, we will exist, succeed and fail, live and die, in the future, and the future only.

It’s slippery in here, says Bowie-turned-giant-tea-kettle before Coop literally steps into the past. With Brexit and MAGA and old Han Solo and older Deckard and redeployed Mulder and Scully and on and on and on, it’s getting pretty bloody slippery out here, too.