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moonah-rose · 3 years

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Little Blue Eyes

A brief follow-up to this. Eleanor visits Michael during his reforming.

She had to hand it to Jason. If anyone had told her that it was possible to break a Janet out of Hell and get her away from an army of demons using just a Molotov, a single demon exploder gun, and a bag of weed, she’d have been very sceptical. But somehow he managed to bring their not-a-girl home, riding back in that hand-cart, grinning away as if he’d gone to a Jaguars game with her.

That was one problem dealt with. Now only a billion others to sort out.

As overjoyed as she’d been to see Janet back, safe and sound, she hadn’t been looking forward to reliving the most awful night of the year by explaining to her why their tall, dandy dressed demon wasn’t at her side, or hadn’t gone to save her.

It was easier to hand her the note that Michael had wrote (or possibly snapped into being after she slammed the door as she was sure even he couldn’t write that fast) before he’d pulled the trigger on himself.

I’m sorry.

I don’t want you to be worrying about how I might betray you or let you down again. If I’m locked up, you’re just going to worry that I’ve escaped. Just leave me in a tank on the other side of the map, or in Janet’s void if you bring her back, or just leave me in the Bad Place. If anything I just wanna ask that you make sure I’m all in there as I’d rather not come back shorter. Also if you can make sure no dogs are around to lap me up, I’d appreciate it.

I only ever wanted to save you all. I’m sorry I did nothing but screw up. I understand if you don’t want me back in the group after I’m back to normal. Please just get Janet back safe, even if it does mean going to the Judge. And give my best to Chidi when he wakes up.

I wasn’t lying about one thing; I really do love you all so much. I’m sorry it could never be enough.

Michael.

Reading the goo-stained letter with shaking hands, she’d struggled not to burst into tears of anger or throw up. Standing in the middle of the empty room, her friend dripping all around her, she’d wanted to scream at him for this being his best attempt to make things up to her - to forking leave her! To take the cowards way out.

Being angry was so much easier than accepting the guilt of what she had said to him before that moment. Of questioning if she had gone too far...if she’d just taken a moment to listen to him...Usually the dude had trouble shutting the fork up but that night, all he’d done is stand there and take everything she threw at him...until there was nothing left standing. Literally.

If she’d had any idea he would do something so reckless and stupid then of course she would never have said...

But you did know. You knew exactly what he was prepared to do to help you, if it’s what you said you needed. What you wanted.

She never wanted this, she admits to herself, barely a couple months later.

Running this experiment basically single-handed was...not overly difficult. In fact, she was pretty confident in saying they were doing okay, considering the circumstances.

But it still sucked. She was alone. Again.

Obviously there was no way she was going to have Michael’s goo abandoned in some random, isolated location. She was mad at the guy but she wasn’t a monster...so she told herself. At the same time, she couldn’t give up the role he’d thrusted upon her by suddenly taking up the role of nurse-maid, as hot as she might have looked in the uniform. He’d chosen to do this so she could work without distractions. Without a liability.

“He sacrificed himself to save me. We’re on our own now. Let’s make it count.”

Just get the fork on with things, same as before. No point in looking back.

Tahani is the one who volunteers. She’s able to separate herself from the other humans without causing too much suspicion, claiming the need for a private getaway up in the hills, deep in the valley, a hidden fancy lodge by a stream, surrounded by peaceful deer and mountains. Definitely not Eleanor’s scene, anything involving the wilderness or even resembling camping.

By the time Eleanor sees her off on a private car Derek conjured up, Michael’s goo already reached its first form. The blind, helpless demon larva showed no signs of awareness of his surroundings, curling up as small as possible, malleable as Tahani swaddled him in her fluffiest blanket. Eleanor was almost impressed at how quickly the sexy giraffe had overcome being grossed out at the slimy, squidgy creature, able to look almost maternal as she carried him into the car. And she made sure to say as much.

Tahani’s heavy hearted response would stick with Eleanor for the next few weeks; “I didn’t reassure him when he asked us if we could ever be friends with a gross monster. Best I can do is show him how much we truly care.”

Ouch. Way to kick her in the girl-nads.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ve helped out in multiple animal sanctuaries and used to fly out to work with deprived children with my dear friend Angelina...But this is definitely new territory for me.” She’d said as she looked over the larva demon, making the tiniest cooing noise in his sleep (or what they assumed was sleep). “I’ll try my best.”

That was all any of them could do. She’d contemplated attempting to speak to the larva Michael in her arms. What could she possibly say? Could he even understand her?

She was still angry. And yet it was difficult to connect the anger towards the one who abandoned her to the pathetic looking being in the blanket. Best to save all those harsh words on the tip of her tongue for when he was back to being tall and slappable.

Is he really the one you want to slap?

The question comes back to haunt her more frequently each night that follows, whenever she thinks back on that night, or wonders how the two of them are doing. She and Tahani send letters often via the birds who are happy to act as messengers. They just have to be careful none of the humans intercept them. She lets her gorgeous friend know how the experiment is going and Tahani offers her tips on how to improve John, in particular. Every time she goes to write ‘how is Michael?’ she erases it, chest tightening. Tahani tells her anything important.

The slug monster form that follows the larva is a lot more challenging, she reports. He’s now the size of a Tibetan huskie and just as hungry.

I just let him roam the fields and eat what he can find. Sometimes I have to pull him in on a leash if he doesn’t tire himself out, otherwise I worry he’ll slither off in the night. I try to talk to him but he just grunts or roars at me until I tell him off. I was a little worried he might try to eat me but I found playing music - 80′s classics, mostly - calms him down and makes him rather docile. I don’t think he knows quite who I am or remembers anything. Perhaps it’s like when Janet is rebooted? He may need time to restore his memories, as she did.

Oh, darn, I must finish - he’s in the rose bush again!

Sometimes the image of her prim socialite friend trying to restrain a two-hundred-pound slug monster is so hilarious she can’t help but laugh. Other times she feels more guilt tugging at her soul to go lend a hand.

Is Michael really little more than an animal, in his head, right now? She’s hardly proved herself the best at pet care, though it sounded like Michael overeating was the least of their worries. It pained her to imagine what his head must be going through right now. Is he scared? Confused? Lost? Does he have any emotions other than the instinct to feed?

Does he still blame himself? Does he miss her as much as she...?

The more she sits in that chair in the office, the smaller she feels. It doesn’t belong to her; she’s merely filling it in while he’s gone. She has lunch in silence, remembering the jokes they used to share, the games of trying to aim food in the others mouth across the desk. She remembers him snapping a margarita for her when he knew she needed it most. She remembers his hand on her shoulder. She remembers him finding her at her lowest point, when everyone else had doubted her, turned their backs.

She remembers him, always there. And now she’s lost him.

Was wanting him gone over a stupid lie really worth all of this?

When Jason returns with Janet, on the same day she’s hesitating whether to jump on the nearest unicorn and head towards the mountains, she takes it as a sign. She has no excuse to stay away now - not with Janet back to watch over things, though she’ll probably be paying Michael a visit soon too.

She rides up on the train Janet conjures for her, saving her from trying to figure out how to ride a unicorn without breaking her neck. Something tells her she might have more luck at taming a slug monster than her British friend, not that she has any experience, just a few encounters with the grosser men in Arizona. Besides, it was Michael, at the end of the day. Their Michael.

The same Michael willing to sacrifice himself to help a bunch of cockroaches.

It’s such an idyllic landscape she arrives at. A total holiday card photo, without the snow. Nothing but grass and trees for miles before a backdrop of purple mountains. She looks around, seeing the evidence of devoured flower gardens and broken fences. At least the solid, oak cabin by the stream stood in tact, smoke billowing from the chimney.

Eleanor is so focused on keeping her eyes peeled for a rampaging slug monster that she almost fails to spot the little person sat on the front step of the veranda.

She frowns. That has to be the whitest child she’s ever laid eyes on. Granted most kids growing up in Phoenix were smothered in fake tan before they were three by their moms, but this is something else. The kid has long white hair, half-plaited, down to the shoulders of the cream dress she’s wearing. Her skin is so pale it’s nearly translucent. Fork, is she looking at an actual ghost?

Wait...She’s a ghost. That really shouldn’t freak her out.

There’s just something so eerie about the little girl, from her sickly appearance to how weirdly quiet she is for...However old she is. Six? Seven? Thirteen? Eleanor really knows nothing about kids, just that they’re usually much louder than this one, sat alone, playing with a set of shining...

Oh.

“Michael?”

The kid looks away from the chain of a paperclips they were linking, gazing up at Eleanor on the gravel path. As soon as she sees their eyes, she has her answer. Even without a pair of glasses, she’d recognise those sparkling blue eyes anywhere. It’s only then that she remembers the third form.

Spooky little girl.

Though far less spooky than she imagined. More...sad.

Despite her surprise, she tries to smile, not knowing how badly she needed to see those eyes look at her again after this past month.

“Hey, buddy. How’re you feeling?” She starts to approach.

The kid drops the paperclips and jumps up to their feet, beginning to tremble terribly, eyes wide as saucers.

Eleanor stops. Is he afraid? Of her?

“Michael? D’you remember me? It’s Eleanor, dude..”

“‘Hani!” The child cries turning and running inside the cabin. Fork, she knew was bad with kids, but shirt! Eleanor rushes in to follow, unable to hold back.

She enters the cosily furnished cabin to see the pale girl run up to the leg of the six foot beauty standing at the stove and cling to her skirt for dear life.

Tahani looks over from the pot of spaghetti, face fearful at first before lighting up when she spots her friend stood in the foyer.

“Eleanor! What a lovely surprise.” She beams, turning the stove off; “I’m so glad you decided to visit.”

“Wow...You’re kinda rocking the whole rustic single mom look here, babe.” Eleanor says, looking around the place, everything making her feel so warm and comforted from the open fireplace to the heavy air of recently baked bread.

Tahani looks down to her charge hanging onto her dress, reaching down to pick the little fingers off carefully.

“Well, it was rather nice to have a project to myself, and Derek was surprisingly helpful. Everything else I acquired myself, having learned to survive in the wild from a well known ‘Bear’ friend of mine.” She holds the kid’s hands and bends down to their eye level; “Michael, sweetheart, look who’s come to visit. Remember Eleanor?”

The demon child whimpers, throwing their arms around Tahani’s neck and hiding in her luscious dark hair.

Eleanor bites her lip; “He’s a lot more shy than the slug monster, I take it.”

“Oh, I don’t understand. They were fine with Jason this morning, they were playing video games for hours - he and Janet teleported over briefly to check in on us. So glad they got back safe.”

So Jason gets a teleport but she takes the train? The first time she’s not an immortal being’s favorite to spoil.

Eleanor shuffles her feet, trying not to feel wounded at how terrified her friend currently is of her, when apparently there was no issue with Jason. But then, Jason makes it difficult for anyone to dislike him. Eleanor makes it an open invitation.

The kid whispers something to Tahani that causes the woman to pick them up.

“Oh, darling, don’t be silly.” She responds, rubbing their back; “That was just a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” Eleanor asks. Is she the stuff of nightmares?

Tahani eventually convinces the pale kid to go back outside to continue playing while she catches up with Eleanor.

Questions Tahani has about the experiment and the subjects get quickly brushed aside. Eleanor is unable to focus on anything but the image of Michael’s eyes looking at her with so much fear. When Tahani hands her a fresh cup of cofffee, she wants to stick her hand in it, just to scold herself for the sake of it.

“He’s having nightmares? I mean...she’s having...” Eleanor frowns.

“I find it easier to use ‘they/them’, which Michael seems to prefer as well, currently.” Tahani explains; “Most of the time, they’re a calm, affectionate child. Such a welcome change from the beast I was putting up with a fortnight ago, as much as they grew on me. It’s just at night, while their brain is still reforming and all these memories are flooding back...It can be rather distressing. Trust me, it’s heart-breaking just to see them crying and screaming...”

She can’t imagine that recalling centuries of brutally torturing innocents along with the knowledge of why that was wrong is easy for anyone, least of all in the form of a small girl, creepy or not.

“Honestly, the creepiest I’ve encountered so far is them levitating at the end of my bed - and that’s usually when they’re just looking for a cuddle.”

Eleanor smiles a little, Michael never was the best at being a truly ‘frightening’ demon.

“And I’m in these nightmares?”

Tahani sighs; “I suppose the memories of their last night are mixed up with everything else. They just...were worried you were here to say something mean or...you wanted them gone.”

Fork-sake.

“I never wanted this, Tahani. I never wanted him to...Shirt, I didn’t even think he could, but...” She struggles to hold back tears; “I shouldn’t have come. I’ve just made him...Them more upset. Fork knows what I’d be in for if I stayed for the Teenage Boy phase. He’d probably set my hair on fire as payback.”

Bratty Michael in his fully grown form had been enough to handle. A hormonal one with amnesia was a whole other level.

“Eleanor. Just go talk to them.” Tahani presses; “This whole distancing thing you two are doing to deal with your falling out is dangerous. You’re not going to fix anything by staying away from them. As I kept telling my good friend Courtney when she had a row with my other friends, Lisa and Jennifer - you just need to communicate!”

“Babe, they’re afraid to even be alone with me.” She’s the monster under the bed now. All because she took one sin he committed to heart and forgot about all the good he’d done for her that outweighed it.

“Then stay, there’s plenty of room. Even if it means we swap and you stay here and I return to help with the experiment. Either way, this needs to be sorted out. I don’t believe demons are supposed to be this upset during their growth...You could help with that.”

Can she? She’s not the nurturing type, like her hot friend. She melted her own doll in the microwave as a kid. And she unwittingly talked her own demon bestie into exploding himself.

Tahani’s hand squeezing her wrist gives her some strength.

“...Okay. I’ll try.” she meets her eyes; “Is Michael the only one allowed to snuggle in bed with you when they’re scared?”

Ten minutes later, she goes to find the creepy girl outside, this time sat among the flowers, being far more gentle with them than her previous slug form was.

Eleanor approaches slowly.

“Michael? Buddy?”

The kid gasps, standing up again and flinching back. Eleanor raises her palm.

“Please don’t run away. I promise I won’t hurt you...and I won’t be mad.” She says, soft as she can manage, getting down to the ground; “And I’m not gonna make you go away anywhere. I just wanna chat...That ok?”

Michael doesn’t look too convinced, glancing over at the cabin. Looking for the one constant they’ve had, who’s been here for them, caring for them. Where Eleanor should have been, at least sometimes.

Okay. Time for the trump card.

“I got you something. Tahani said you have trouble sleeping. I thought maybe this guy could help?” She produces the minion toy from behind her back.

Michael’s eyes sparkle and he instantly reaches out to take it.

“So ugly!” They cheer, hugging it to their front.

Eleanor chuckles. Still so easily impressed.

“Can’t argue there...Also, I picked up those paperclips of yours. Did you know you can do this with them?” She holds up the chain; “Gimmie your wrist a minute.”

Michael frowns, hiding behind the toy a little.

“I won’t bite, dude. Kids are way too gross to eat. You’re too stringy and bony.” She wrinkles her nose.

They blink at her before slowly holding out their wrist. Eleanor takes the paperclips and links them around Michael’s arm, forming a bracelet.

The child gasps, clearly thinking they’ve seen it for the first time; “Holy motherforking shirtballs.”

“Damn, you kiss Tahani with that mouth?” That must have been another residue memory tucked away.

Michael sneers; “Kissing is gross.”

“It’s pretty weird if you think about it, yeah.” She concedes, glad they’re at least talking, as much conversation as she can have with a billion year old immortal that’s lost their mind as they regrow in the body of a haunting little girl; “...What about hugs? You like them, right?”

The kid nods, eagerly.

“...Maybe I could have one, someday? If we can be friends? I’d like that...” More than they could know right now. More than anything else, even having Chidi remember her. This...This is just as painful, because she can’t be sure if this is fixable.

Eleanor crosses her legs as she sits, facing her friend.

“I’m so sorry, Michael. I know...you don’t understand that right now but...I’m sorry for why you’re scared of me...I wouldn’t ever wanna hurt you. Please believe me.”

Trust me? God, she’s such a hypocrite.

The kid eyes her, up and down, before turning to the flowers. They bend down, picking a few up into a small bouquet of daisies. Michael turns and hands it out to her.

“Oh...Uhh....Thanks...” Eleanor reaches for them.

Michael’s blue eyes flash red. The flowers burst into flames.

“Forking shirt!” Eleanor jumps.

And still the kid holds them out; “Pretty, right?”

A heartfelt laugh tumbles out of her; “...I can tell Jason’s been here.” Or maybe that was part of her friend’s demon nature. Either way, it was adorable. “Thank you, Michael.” she says, taking the flaming daisies. “You know...if you want, I could show you how to make chains out of these? We could make a crown for Tahani?”

“And ones for me and you?” Michael asks, hopeful.

Eleanor’s lip quivers, a sudden lump in her throat. She reaches out to run her palm over her friend’s white hair, soft as it’s always been; “Yeah...Me and you too, bud.”

#rose says she can't fix things #then immediately writes something to fix it #as weird as this is #like borderline crack fic #but still works within the canon #fluffy angst #hellstrop brotp fic #michael x tahani sistp #genderfluid michael #hints of future cottagecore teleanor? we'll see

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julemmaes · 4 years

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Let Me In - October 2nd

Nesta Archeron x Cassian

Prompt sent by @noorismee (I’m sorry Tumblr kinda sucks and deleted the ask, I hope it’s just a one-time thing cause I could go insane)

“I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

A/N: This was so cute to write and I really really miss my friends right now, cause I’ve just started uni and I don’t understand how many things works so I haven’t seen them in a very long time and writing about them is always kinda emotional. I hope y’all enjoy!

p.s. yesterday I made a mistake, cause I put the acotar general tag list instead of the tog one, so, sorry for the ones who found themselves there eheh

Word count: 2,587

Nesta wanted to cry. She wanted to cry so bad.

She had tried to take this exam four times in the last year. Twice in the winter session and twice in the summer one. Everyone had reassured her that the fifth time would be the good one, that this time she would be able to pass it with full marks.

"I'm sure you'll be the best in the class." Elain had told her only the day before.

So when she had arrived home, today, and had opened the email with the rankings and saw that she had failed again, she had screamed in frustration.

She grunted and dropped her head on the table, banging her forehead hard enough on the wood to make a loud thump. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, yawning and jerking when a flash of lightning lit the room as if it were daytime. She put her hands over her ears, waiting for the thunder and staring at the raindrops racing on the window glass, and when the noise stopped, she started reading one of the billions of theorems she had been studying for months.

She turned the pages until she found the chapter on the Fourier series and started to rewrite everything she needed to assimilate every little connotation of the theory so that she could apply it in practice.

She had been flipping through the book for hours, writing things and doing calculations that she knew by heart now. How was it possible that she knew everything so perfectly when she was at home and when she found herself in front of the test sheet, she forgot the logic behind it?

She picked up the phone to see the time and saw that it was ten forty-nine. She would not go to sleep until she had solved all the problems in the book.

A message appeared on the screen just as she was about to turn it off and she raised an eyebrow seeing who the sender was.

She had immediately informed him when she knew that she had failed the exam again, but then she hadn't waited for an answer and had put her phone aside.

Scrolling through the dozens of notifications - most of them from her best friend - she saw messages from her classmates asking her if she had passed.

When she got to the bottom of the list, she grimaced.

‘Did you eat?’

And a few minutes later, ‘Nesta?’

‘If you don't answer me within an hour and a half, I'm coming to your place.’

And then, exactly ninety minutes later, he had sent another message saying: ‘You asked for it. I'll be at your's in twenty minutes, half an hour max.’ followed by a strangely threatening text, ‘I'm pissed.’

Nesta grinned, muttering to herself, "Joke's on you, I won't open the door." and returned without too much thought to her math book.

Five minutes passed before she heard someone aggressively knocking on the door. She sighed, lifting her eyes from the numbers and pondering whether it was better to let him in or let him die outside in the cold and frost. She was about to get up, tell him that he should leave, when Cassian knocked harder on the door. She frowned.

"Arche! Open the fucking door, I'm freezing out here!" shouted the boy. Nesta laughed, looking at him through the peephole and leaning her hip against the wall.

She spoke loudly enough so that Cassian could hear her through the door, "And don't you think you should have asked my permission before coming here and busting my balls?"

She heard him snort and could imagine him closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, "Nesta, please," he seemed exasperated, "open this door and let me feed you."

Nesta raised an eyebrow, chuckling, "Feed me? What am I? A dog?"

"No, you idiot." he laughed on the other side, then, in a more serious tone he asked, "Have you eaten something?"

Nesta hesitated, "Sure."

"I can hear the bullshit from here." a little pause, "Come on, open up."

She opened the door slightly, watching him step forward and Nesta closed the door ajar, shaking her head, "Cassian I have to study." if she had let him in she wouldn't have been able to do anything.

His hair was damp and his usually dark-grey jacket was now black.

"Cassian," he repeated in a mocking tone and making a disgusted face, "what? Are you mad?"

She shook her head puffing, tapping her foot on the ground repeatedly. He followed the movement with his eyes. Looking back at her face, he said, "Even if you were, you wouldn't have the right to. I'm not the one who ignored his best friend all day." he put one hand on the door and pushed it, holding the pizza with the other.

When Nesta struggled to keep it closed again, Cassian laughed. They both knew very well that if he wanted to force his way into her apartment, he would have no problem doing so.

He took one look at her and made what she called whipped-dog-eyes, "I didn't get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you're sad, so let me in." She noticed only in that moment the bag hanging from his fingers. She leaned forward to help him hold it. She hated plastic bags so much, they always stretched out to cut off her hands when she had to carry them around.

Then she metabolized his words and opened her eyes wide, "Did you come on foot?"

She opened the door, stepped aside and let him in. Cassian trotted into the apartment, shaking his jacket off and passing the pizza to her, who moved so as not to get wet, "Are you crazy? It's four degrees outside and it's pouring."

He looked so pleased to finally be inside the house that he didn't seem to hear her.

Nesta placed the food and beer on the kitchen table, careful not to wet the books. She hurried to put everything aside and when Cassian came in and saw what she was doing she tightened her jaw. Nesta noticed.

"What?" she asked abruptly, "Everyone has their problems. You are a fool for leaving the house at ten o'clock without an umbrella and walking for half an hour in the middle of a storm and I am trying to make sure I have a future by studying, and if I have to do it in the evening, that's not going to stop me".

Cassian shrugged, "Az stole my umbrella and my mom needed the car."

A twinge of pain tightened her heart.

She shook her head, "Wait here, I'll go get you a dry sweatshirt, I should have one of yours."

He nodded and Nesta saw him as he started cutting the pizza, taking what necessary and setting the table. When he came back he was shirtless and was rattling his hair, squeezing it into the sink.

She froze on the kitchen door, admiring how the muscles on his back tensed with every slightest movement. It was not the first time she saw him without clothes, there had been many occasions, but it was rare for him to undress in front of her in such intimate surroundings. She cleared her voice, drawing Cassian's attention.

He turned towards her, smiling at her and Nesta thought she was going to die. It wasn't the usual cocky smile he usually gave everyone, it was sweet and sincere. She handed him the sweatshirt without saying anything and sat down.

The first bite of pizza - although it was gummy and cold - was an explosion of happiness in her stomach. She closed his eyes, moaning and took another bite out of the slice. Cassian sniggered, watching her as she finished her first slice.

"Geez, it's so good," said Nesta, with her mouth full of food. Cassian had an amused expression on his face. He nodded his head to the cartoon, "Have some more."

Nesta didn't hesitate and threw herself on the pizza, filling her plate. They ate in silence, enjoying each other's company. She thanked him only when she had cleaned the plate with the last crumb. He had belittled the whole thing by waving his hand mid-air, just saying that she didn't need to thank him, that it was his job to make sure she survived through this exam session.

When Cassian leaned forward on the table to grab a bottle of beer, Nesta stood up, grabbed the bottle opener and handed it to him. He was about to open the second one, when Nesta stopped him, "I'm not going to drink Cass, as soon as you leave I'll go back to studying and you know what alcohol does to me."

Cassian laughed and opened it anyway, pushing it towards her, "Come on Arche," she did not move and looked him in the eyes more serious than ever, "if you put it like that," he took back the beer and the smile died on his lips. He moved his gaze toward the window, "But I'm not leaving".

She moaned, "What the fuck, Cass." she put her hand in her hair, raising one leg and putting her foot on the chair, leaning her chin against her knee.

"I'm not leaving and I don't want to hear your lame excuses about why I can't stay" he looked at her and the worry in his features made Nesta stand at attention.

His tone became more gentle, "What happened today?"

She wiggled her head for the millionth time, frowning, "What do you mean? Nothing happened," and before he could answer her, she added, "except that I failed the mathematical analysis exam for the fifth time."

"Nes..." he passed his hand through his hair, unwinding it and dropping little water left and right. His eyes never left her face, looking for any sign that would give away her apparent calm.

"Cass." she repeated with the same tone. How could he be so good at reading through the lines? Lines that she hadn't even written, considering how good she had been at ignoring him all day long. She figured, that was also a clear sign that something was wrong.

Not even Tomas, her boyfriend, could understand that something was wrong and she had explicitly texted him "I don't feel very well, I'd rather be alone for today" to which he replied with a simple "Ok, talk to you tomorrow".

Maybe he didn't even care what was bothering his girlfriend so much. Surely he would have been angry, though, when he found out that Cassian had spent the night on her couch.

Cassian sighed, also putting down his beer, "You know, you need to talk about anything, I'm always here."

Nesta felt a lump forming in her throat, so she nodded weakly, not trusting her voice.

He looked into her eyes for a few more seconds and when she could no longer hold his gaze, she turned to her books, staring at the sheets of paper that came out of the pages.

"So," said Cassian, changing the subject for her sake, "what don't you understand about mathematical analysis?

She turned to him in surprise, "These aren't things you would understand."

She wasn't trying to insult him or make him feel less intelligent than she were, but the subjects that were studied in the third year of a math degree course required a broad knowledge of previous subjects. Subjects that Cassian would never have even approached while studying foreign languages and literatures.

"Oh, I know, I don't have a sufficiently developed brain for those things, but you need to be distracted and since you want to study so much, maybe you could repeat it to me." he smiled at her, getting up and standing in front of her, pointing to the living room with a nod of his chin, "Couch?

Nesta stared at him, wondering how it was possible that Cassian was her friend. She nodded, following him into the living room and sitting in front of him, her legs bent under her.

The second she opened the book, the black letters on the white pages seemed to cross over. They seemed to dance, not allowing her to read. She would have been able to explain it without reading, but fatigue was taking over. She closed the book, staring at the cover.

"Everything okay?" he asked with a hint of concern in his tone.

Nesta closed her eyes, carrying a hand over her eyes. Her breath started to tremble. She did not want to cry.

She felt Cassian move on the couch and then he hugged her, "Sweetheart?" he stroked her hair, while Nesta took the book out from among them and dropped it on the floor. She clutched to his chest and took a deep breath. The warmth of him seemed to relax her little or nothing and Nesta only wanted to stop feeling this icy cold that seemed to have been poured into her bones.

"I miss my mom," she whispered.

She heard Cassian swallowing, "I figured," he said in an equally silent tone, holding her tighter, "It's normal Arche, her anniversary is approaching."

Right. The anniversary of Amanda Archeron's death would be in a couple of weeks.

Nesta was convinced that Tomas couldn't even remember the month of her mother's death.

"She was so good. She graduated on time. She did everything perfectly. And I'm here and I can't pass this stupid exam," she said against his chest. Her mother went to the same university, she attended classes in the same halls. She had graduated with the highest grades.

Cassian moved slightly, placing his hand on one of her cheeks, caressing her just under the eye. He had a determined look in his eyes and when he spoke, Nesta knew she wouldn't be able to talk back.

"You managed to get this far for a reason. You are not stupid and the test you are trying to take is not easy. Your mother was a genius, it's true, and I understand that you think you are expected to do the same, but no one is going to use such a thing against you," he reassured her. "We are all on your side. The only one who doesn't believe in you, it seems, is also the only one who should." he smiled sweetly at her.

Nesta moved, fleeing that touch so familiar, so comforting.

"I'm sorry." she murmured.

Cassian was still hugging her, "For what?"

"For making you worry, I should have called you and told you right away. You wouldn't have had to come all the way here." she looked him in the face and found an amused expression there.

"I would have come anyway, Nes. Only sooner."

She smiled at him and hugged him again.

They watched an action movie until two in the morning, hugging on her couch. They didn't go to class the next day, staying locked in the house, eating all the junk they had managed to buy on their little trip to the mini market down the street.

Cassian had also managed to convince her not to touch the books for the day and it had taken a while for her to accept.

She just needed her person.

Looking to her right, she stretched her feet over his lap and he smiled at her.

She was kinda screwed.

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border-spam · 4 years

Note

Maw is rlly good but I personally like the idea of Troy having his skag-mouth as a birth defect from Tyreen leeching him in the womb. Makes for more sibling/family drama, which I inhale like a gas-huffer.

I’m here for drama, yesss. Would actually love to see this idea being used! There is so much there for doing juicy shit with the twins, at the end of the day, both of the nasty little shits are abominations from a galactic power standpoint, so why not go wild with the monster aspect, eh?

My own worldbuilding brain is funky though. Part of why I enjoy doing dives into characters and lore so much, is that I love finding ways to make things make sense, and Troy existing at all in Borderlands does not make any.

So something lots of folks mentioned pre-release was that if the twins were going to be conjoined, they would have to be the same sex. It’s just not medically feasible to have xy/xx conjoined twins as they come from the same embryo split in two but not fully. The only option was they could be chimeric but that didn’t really suit what we were seeing either.

I remember that causing a wave cause holy shit, were we going to get a trans villain and could anyone trust GB to handle that without it being a trainwreck? I’m still happy they used word of god instead cause oof. I don’t want to think of how that could have gone down considering how both these characters ended up being used within the plot anyway.

That means my smooth, analytically obsessed brain has to come up with other explanations for the absolute fuckery that is the Calypso twins and how the hell they exist in the first place when they couldn’t have formed conjoined, and that’s one of the reasons I couldn’t use this kind of extra fun shit like a natural monster mouth being why it’s so heavily modded. I needed to try and fix Troy so he... made sense to me.

Bit of a medical dive into the absolute state of this man under the cut:

We end up with two fraternal twins.

Not identical in the slightest and very noticeable about that in their appearance. It’s not just the height difference, Tyreen’s undercut is dark brown, not Troy’s inky black. Their facial shapes vary massively and not just due to hormones, Ty’s eyes have a cheeky lil’ cat eye slope while Troy’s are sadder, leaning downwards at the outside curve. There’s very little to actually make them even look like siblings bar their colouration, but we still have what we know:

They were born conjoined, Troy had to be cut from Tyreen, and that’s likely why he has one arm.

Keep in mind his arm is literally never mentioned once in BL3. Not ONCE. No one ever references the twin’s childhoods bar Troy, so we actually have no idea if the arm loss is even related to being conjoined.

We just all HC’d that as a fandom with no evidence, not even a hint of information regarding this was provided and I think that’s something we forget about often enough as it’s so widely accepted Troy was born without his right arm. Actually strange to think about that, ain’t it?

But I’m rambling - so, I figured we have two fraternal twins, sharing some kind of horrific all consuming monster entity power between them. One can do fuck all bar embarrass himself and faint, and the other can’t STOP her power functioning to the point she can’t touch anything without consuming it.. so my idiot worldbuilding brain says “Hey. Well, that’s clearly what happened then. They were in the same womb, she started to consume him.” Logic.

Logic works for me, so it stuck.

Made sense that it’s how he’s a Siren at all when the entire cosmos has said Sirens are women, he’s one because the power that was consuming him filled his little body enough to see him as itself, so it stopped - leaving the developing twins joined, and half of Troy’s torso lost to Tyreen.

I can’t justify much else to my fact hungry thought processes, the skag mouth wouldn’t work for me because I can’t fit it in, him being a natural Siren doesn’t work for me cause it can’t fit either, but it does open an avenue of logic for my brain to start following down, and that’s why in Leech Lord, Troy is so desperately unwell.

Growing up barely having survived being consumed in utero is not going to go very well when you’ve no medical assistance living on a shitty little dirthole planet with your dad.

Damaged organs from The Leech feeding as he grew, out of wack hormones ravaging a body that couldn’t really regulate them correctly in puberty leading to massive growth spurts and bone structure issues, no proper nutrition, starving half the time as his size outpaced the amount of food he and Typhon could scavenge, it all comes together into a very delicate health balance.

We already know Troy is very unwell at times from what we see ingame, it made sense to me, so I ran with this line.

He’s sick when he doesn’t want to be, he’s weak when it’s an embarrassment to the character role he’s playing. He covers himself in tattoos and aggressive mods to try and combat looking delicate, so he can lie to himself that he’s not pitiful and bolster his fragile ego. The massive, hulking prosthetic is there to MAKE you look at it. A way of proving how unashamed he is of the damage to his right side, and it works.

The gullible believe, the stupid remain easy to control, and billions see him as a God, rather than the truth - that he’s a very sick, very delicate man.

A lot of what I do with Troy is there to support the underlaying character I’ve tried to write for him in some desperate attempt to try and make the bastard have some logical excuse to exist in the first place.

If I’d gone down the route of having his Maw be something that wasn’t self inflicted, I would have gone off track with the direction I was taking him in, even though I am WEAK for that kind of monster level shit.. Mmm.

I remember being asked:

Would troy have gotten the face mod if Seifa hadnt left?

#Borderlands #Borderlands 3 #Bl3 #Troy calypso #Tyreen calypso #Calypso twins #Leech Lord #Seifa #My hcs #My writing #Sbsart

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mythrilhusk · 3 years

Text

!!Kill Techno-Sensei!! - Chapter One

Dream SMP x Assassination Classroom AU. Quackity-centric. No ships.

Words: 1850 Chapter Two (Next) AO3 Version

ALL characters are based off of the Dream SMP characters, Not the content creators (some people are left out due to this, since they have no perceivable RP character). This was a lot of fun to write, and I hope y’all enjoy.

Content warnings: violence, panic attacks/anxiety, death mention, swearing (lots)

CHAPTER ONE (Kill A Little Time):

"Ten billion dollars??" Sapnap's amazed cry startles Quackity out of his tired stupor. Connor and Foolish crowd around Sapnap's desk, babbling with excitement.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Quackity grumbles, but he can't help peeking over Sapnap's shoulder. The creased document seems to be a bunch of lousy legal drivel.

"Big Q, the price on this guy's head! We'd be set for life!"

Quackity makes a grabby gesture, and Sapnap gives the papers to him. His little gang of three-- (missing Karl, since the bastard had to get himself transferred to a different class)-- gathers around him as he flips through them.

That man’s face-- printed in thick, bold strokes on the third page-- clamps a vise around his throat, so tight it constricts the scream he wants to let out. He takes a deep breath. Holds it. Lets it out slowly. "This fucker??" He tosses the papers away dismissively. "He'll be dead in a day with that bounty." Foolish and Connor scramble to snatch the papers, vying for the prestige of being the first to share with the whole class.

Sapnap, sweet Sapnap, leans over and murmurs worriedly, "You okay, Big Q?"

"Fuck, I'm great!" Hysteria bites in Quackity's laugh. "Fucking hell, I'm- I'm- I'm abso-fucking-lutely screwed."

"Why?"

"Why?? That's- you know who that is!!" Quackity cries, not caring that the attention of his peers is being drawn to his outburst, like moths to fire, or like vultures to roadkill.

"Yeah, but- yeah, he'll be dead in a day." Sapnap lets Quackity squeeze his hand. "You'll be fine. And if he dares to come anywhere near you, the Ducklings have your back."

Quackity shudders. The thought of his friends going up against the dark shadow from his past fills him with terror. The terror fills him with helpless weakness. Which in turn feeds the vitriolic bitterness rooted deep inside his veins. "N-no, Sapnap. If he comes near, you run."

"Who teh fock are you runnin' from? I wouldn't run. I'd stand there, and I'd fight it. I'd beat the shit outta it!" Tommy puffs his chest out as he stomps to his desk beside Quackity's, a sunny ray of cheering bravado. "All the ladies, all the ladies say, there goes a man who beats the shit outta what- whatever bothers him."

Quackity laughs, burying the fear and acidic rage. "Aww, Big T, you'd fight a thousand armies for me?"

"What?? No, I'd die." Tommy states.

"You're a good man, Tomathy."

"No man is good, Big Q. No man is good."

The other students have all seated themselves in their assigned desks. There's a new teacher this year. Quackity wishes he'd had time to set up a few more pranks than horseradish sauce in the hand lotion dispenser and whoopee cushions on the teacher's chair. But he's not bad at improvising.

The door opens, and the principal of the school strides in, her fluffy rainbow hair bouncing with every step. "All rise and bow for Captain Pussy!!" Tommy cries. Quackity busts a lung, he's laughing so hard.

"T-Tommy, that's- that's not very nice, Tommy." Captain Puffy frowns, tapping her five-inch heels on the grimy linoleum.

"Oh, right. Sorry, Captain." Tommy accepts the reproach with equanimity. "Fucking cold out, am I right, boys?"

"And girl!!" Rose cries from the front of the class.

"Yes, well, I was talking to mah boys." Tommy retorts with exaggerated stiffness.

"Fucking shut up and let the goddamned principal speak!" Quackity cries upon regaining his breath from guffawing. He smiles at Sapnap. The worrywart smiles back gratefully.

"Uh. Thank you, Quackity." Puffy sighs, looking downcast. "I'm sorry, kids. I tried to keep our school out of this. But Skeppy had- uh. The Prezz called in a few favors."

"What's going on?" Tommy asks without raising his hand, because he's just that much of a rebel.

Quackity's neck itches as though he's- being hunted again- no, no, that would never happen here, he's just a regular kid, in a regular school, no war criminals nearby.

But Puffy calls uncertainly to the door, "Mr. Blade?" And Quackity's heart leaps into his throat, choking him with the pounding thump-thump-thump so familiar to prey.

"Yup." Technoblade's low, dry voice resonates through the numbly silent classroom. His shadow darkens the door.

Quackity reaches for Sapnap's hand and squeezes tight. "No-no-no-no-" Sapnap squeezes back, fury beating in his firm pulse. Quackity takes a deep breath. Holds it. Lets it out. His friend is furious for his sake.

Technoblade's clicking steps are the only sound in the quiet, other than Quackity's racing heartbeat. Quackity refuses to look away from Sapnap's hand, refuses to look up at the man who slaughtered his family without a single qualm.

"I guess I'm your teacher or somethin'." A farting noise rips through the tense stillness. Quackity muffles a hysterical giggle; somebody sat on a whoopee cushion. "What a bunch of nerds." Techno's words are lightly spoken, suffocating Quackity with the terrible normalcy of it all.

"Are you the Mr. Blade??" Of all people who could've spoken, it just has to be Tommy, doesn't it.

"I am. Apparently."

"Well, then. I'm going to fockin' beat the shit outta you." Tommy's voice is bright and clear, filled with brave anger.

"K." Technoblade answers laconically, seemingly apathetic, but Quackity knows better. The fucking asshole is just restraining delight at yet another bloody massacre to feed his God with.

"No." Quackity snarls, surprising himself with the loud intensity of his own voice. "Tommy, you're not fighting him."

"But, Big Q-"

"Let me handle this." Quackity flashes a grim smile to Tommy, then glares up at Captain Puffy. "Why are you letting a fucking war criminal teach highschoolers??"

"I've renounced my violent ways, Quackity." Technoblade's calm retort chills him. "But I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for your government." Anyone else would miss the slight emphasis. Not Quackity.

"It's not my fucking government. You killed my government, you killed them all!"

"I did what I had to do. For the greater good."

"Um." Captain Puffy raises a hand. "Excuse me. Yes, all of you. Please calm down. We have insurance that makes it impossible for Technoblade to harm any of you-"

"A hostage, you mean." Rage flickers beneath Technoblade's calm tone.

A vengeful grin cracks across Quackity's dour face. "Oh... Techno, we're going to have so much fun." He dares to turn his gaze on the muzzled murderer.

The man is smaller than he remembered. Paler. Thinner. His silky platinum hair cascades over his shoulders, braided haphazardly, with hints of pink dye streaking the tips. Technoblade doesn't smile, doesn't make any perceivable expression at all. Quackity stares him down, shooting every drop of vitriol he can muster.

Technoblade winces, almost imperceptibly, and breaks eye contact. Battle won. A surge of euphoric power floods Quackity with confidence. "Yo, I'm going to fucking kill you."

"You can try." Technoblade smiles.

"You're just a human, Technoblade. Terrifying? Yeah, sure. But your days are fucking numbered and I'm the one who's going to take your goddamn life."

"Uh, actually." Puffy interrupts again. "That's the thing."

"What is??"

"You're all going to have to try your best to kill him before the year is out." Puffy says in a rush.

Quackity scoffs, but before he can say anything, Techno raises a hand. "See, there's the catch, Quackity." His form glitches. "I'm not actually a Human."

Quackity gulps down his apprehension as the piggy monster in Technoblade's chair stares him down. "What are you, then??"

"I dunno. Maybe I'll think of a name before my tragic end."

Puffy sighs. "Drama kings. Okay, big guy, I'm going to, uhh, yeah, I have work to do. Y'all have fun." She leaves the stricken class with the monster.

Technoblade scratches at the horny protusions wrapping around his head like a crown. The glowing irises inside his black sclera dance around the classroom, landing on each student before leaping away again. His pig-muzzle wrinkles. Tusks curl out from his jaws. The blood-red cloak pinned around his shoulders hides most of his bulk. If he was scary before, he's fucking terrifying now.

"A fucking pig-man?? That's what you are??"

"Eh." Technoblade grunts noncommittally. "You should see the other guys."

Quackity frowns. "Why us?"

"Huh?"

"Why does the government want us to kill you??"

"Because I told them I wouldn't let myself be killed unless they let me teach a class." Technoblade the pig-monster smiles reminiscingly. "And then I killed my captors to prove the point. The Prezz thinks he can keep me under control because I wouldn't dare hurt a child... his words, not mine." His eyes twinkle. "I'm perfectly fine with dropkicking kids, particularly if it's in self-defense."

Gulping, Quackity shrinks a bit in his chair. Against his will, the years-old wild laughter of the bloody former-human rings through his head once more. He'll never be rid of the ecstatic sound, never be rid of the dread that poisoned his veins as he hid while Technoblade obliterated his home. Blood for the Blood God... His breath comes short and fast.

Sapnap squeezes his hand comfortingly. The fire blazing in his best friend's eyes tells Quackity that Sapnap won't just step aside and let Technoblade hurt him again.

"That's focken cruel!" Tommy pipes up. "You're a focken menace, yeah. Boys, I say we take him down before anyone gets hurt."

"You can try."

Tommy snatches the shank slipped to him by Tubbo. "You're going down, you are!"

Quackity stands up hastily and holds Tommy back before he can storm up to the implacable monster. "Big T, sit the fuck down, you're just going to get hurt."

"I'll decide who gets hurt, thanks." Tommy retorts. "Techno, you're not going to hurt my friends."

"See, Tommy, I can't really do that anyway." Technoblade growls. "But if I could, do you really think that measly pin could take me down?"

"We'll focken see!!" Tommy rips himself from Quackity's grasp and leaps froggy-like over Hannah's desk.

Quackity can only watch in horror as Technoblade doesn't even to bother standing up. The monster deflects Tommy's first wild slash. "Tommy, that's a piercing weapon."

"I fuckin' know that, I'm trying to shank you with it!"

"Tommy, you're doing it wrong." Technoblade sighs, starting to sound exasperated as Tommy fails swing after swing.

"Tell me how to kill you, then!"

"You can't." Technoblade spreads his arms. "Go ahead, try."

Quackity gasps with delight as Tommy stabs the shank into Technoblade's chest. But Tommy screeches and lets go of the shank. The metal boils and melts into Technoblade's skin.

"Wh-what the hell??" Tubbo leaps up and drags the stunned Tommy back to his desk.

"The fuck was that??" Quackity cries, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

"That? Merely a side effect."

"Of what??"

"Of being the first Mutant Earth has ever seen." Technoblade smiles unpleasantly. "And the last to ever exist. Make no mistake. If I'm not killed by this time next year, I will destroy this world."

==Please reblog and like if you enjoyed!! Thank you!!==

Chapter Two (Next)

#dream smp #Technoblade #tommyinnit #captain puffy #dream smp au #fanfiction #blood for the blood god #sapnap #no ship #ANIME #crossover #friends #long post #tw panicking #tw violence #tw death mention

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patriotsnet · 3 years

Text

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/did-republicans-riot-after-obama-was-elected/

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

Undocumented Kids Are Saved By Obamas Executive Order Daca Which Would Put A Halt To Deportation For Those Whod Entered The Country Before Age 16 And Yet In A Bid To Get The Gop To Come Over To His Side On Immigration Reform The President Has Also Deported A Record 15 Million People In His First Term

A Family Caught in Immigration Limbo

When Belsy Garcia saw her mother’s number appear on her iPhone on the afternoon of June 15, she felt what she calls the “uncomfortable fluttering” sensation in her chest. She knew that daytime calls signaled an emergency. The worst one had come the previous year, when her sister told her ICE agents had placed their father in federal custody.

Garcia was attending Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, when her father was marched out of her childhood home. As an undocumented immigrant — like both of her parents, who are from Guatemala — she couldn’t qualify for loans. She financed her education through scholarships and a stipend she earned as a residential assistant. Now she wondered if her mother was calling to say her father had been deported, which might force her to leave school to become the family’s breadwinner.

But this call was different. “Go turn on the television,” Garcia’s mother said. “You’re going to be able to work, get a driver’s license.”

Onscreen, President Obama was announcing the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Undocumented immigrants who had arrived in the United States as children could apply for Social Security numbers and work permits. Garcia qualified: Her parents had brought her to this country when she was 7 years old. DACA transformed her into a premed student who could actually become a doctor. “It was like this weight was lifted,” she says. “All of that hard work was going to pay off.”

In The Next Hundred Days Our Bipartisan Outreach Will Be So Successful That Even John Boehner Will Consider Becoming A Democrat After All We Have A Lot In Common He Is A Person Of Color Although Not A Color That Appears In The Natural World Whats Up John Barack Obama White House Correspondents Dinner

And Then There Were Three

The first woman to argue a case before the Supreme Court did so in 1880. It would take another 101 years for a woman to sit on that bench rather than stand before it. Even then, progress was fitful. Over the 12 years that Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg served together, their identities evidently merged; lawyers regularly addressed Ginsburg as “Justice O’Connor.” When O’Connor retired in 2006, she left the faux Justice O’Connor feeling lonely. Ruth Bader Ginsburg warned of something far more alarming: What the public saw on entering the court were “eight men of a certain size, and then this little woman sitting to the side.” They might well represent the most eminent legal minds in America. But there was something antiquated, practically mutton-choppy, about that portrait.

How many female justices would be sufficient? Nine, says Justice Ginsburg, noting that no one ever raised an eyebrow at the idea of nine men.

Seal Team Six Kills Osama Bin Ladenraiding His Secret Compound In Abbottabad Pakistan While Obama And His Top Advisers Watch A Live Feed Of The Mission From The White House Situation Room The Picture Of The Assembled Becomes The Last Supper Of The Obama Era

Poop Feminism

For me, it’s one moment. All the bridesmaids have come to the fancy bridal shop to see Maya Rudolph try on wedding dresses. This should be a familiar scene: The bride emerges from the changing room and … This is the dress! The friends clap. The mother cries. Everyone is a princess. Go ahead and twirl!

But when the bride emerges in Bridesmaids, almost all of her friends have started to feel sick. Sweat coats their skin. Red splotches creep over their faces. They try to “ooh” and “aah,” but it’s already too late. It starts with a gag from Melissa McCarthy, followed by another gag. Then a gag that comes simultaneously with a tiny wet fart. It’s the smallness of the fart that’s important here. It’s the kind of fart that slips out — a fart that could be excused away, a brief, incongruous accident. Women don’t fart in wedding movies, and women certainly don’t fart at the exact moment that the bride comes out in her dress. This can’t be happening. Melissa McCarthy blames the fart on the tightness of her dress. We breathe a sigh of relief.

Then sweet Ellie Kemper gags, and the sound effect is surprisingly nasty. Ellie’s face is gray. Melissa’s face is red. They look bad. They are embarrassed. How far is this going to go?

The camera cuts. We are above now. We look down from a safe perch as the release we have been anticipating and dreading begins. It is horribly, earth-shatteringly gross. A woman has just pooped in a sink. The revolution has begun.

The Government Acquires A 61 Percent Stake In Gm And Loans The Company $50 Billion The Auto Bailout Will Eventually Be Heralded As A Great Success Adding More Than 250000 Manufacturing Jobs To The Economy

The Auto Industry Gets Rerouted

“The president was very clear with us that he only wanted to do stuff that would fundamentally change the way they did business. And that’s what we did. There were enormous changes. For example, General Motors had something like 300 different job classifications that the union had. If you were assigned to put the windshield wipers on, you couldn’t put tires on. And we wiped all that stuff out. We basically gave back management the freedom to manage, to hire, to fire. People stopped getting paid even when they were on layoff. We reduced the number of car plants so that there wasn’t so much overcapacity. So now, when you have 16 million cars sold , they’re making a fortune.”

Black Lives Matter Activists Are Arrested In Baton Rouge Louisianaprotesting The Murder Of Alton Sterling; More Than 100 People Are Detained In St Paul Minnesota Protesting The Murder Of Philando Castile

What Is the Point of a Quantified Self?

Melissa Dahl: The Fitbit was introduced at a tech conference eight years ago. It’s kind of incredible to realize that, before then, this idea of the “quantified self” didn’t really exist in the mainstream.

Jesse Singal: I feel like it’s the intersection of all these different trends: Everyone plays video games these days. You got smartphones everywhere. And people are realizing that solutions to the big problems that lead to sleeplessness and anxiety and bad eating — unemployment and income inequality and yada yada yada — aren’t gonna get solved anytime soon.

MD: That’s interesting, because all of this self-tracking is also, according to some physicians, giving people more anxiety! A Fitbit-induced stress vortex.

Cari Romm: It feels like productive stress, though. I’m talking as a recovered Fitbit obsessive, but it does make you look at Fitbit-less people like, “You mean you don’t care how many steps you took today?”

MD: Oh, God. I don’t care. Should I care? Sleep is the one thing I obsessed over for a while. Which does not really help one get to sleep.

JS: Do you think an actually good and not obsession-inducing sleep app could help, though?

MD: There’s some aspect to the tracking idea that really does work. I mean, it’s just a higher-tech version of a food journal or sleep journal, right? Ben Franklin 300 years ago was tracking his 13 “personal virtues” in his diary.

JS: Would Ben Franklin have been an insufferable tech-bro?

Officer Darren Wilson Fatally Shoots Michael Brownin The St Louis Suburb Of Ferguson Sparking A National Protest Movement And Setting Off Unrest That Will Remain Unresolved Two Years Later

On the Triumph of Black Culture in the Age of Police Shootings

In the two years since Mike Brown was fatally shot by the police in Ferguson, and the video footage of his dead body in the street went viral, we have seen the emergence of a perverse dichotomy on our screens and in our public discourse: irrefutable evidence of grotesquely persistent racism, and irrefutable evidence of increasing black cultural and political power. This paradox is not entirely new, of course — America was built on a narrative of white supremacy, and black Americans have simultaneously continued to make vast and essential contributions to the country’s prominence—but it has become especially pronounced. And it’s not just because of the internet and social media, or the leftward shift of the culture, or black America’s being sick and tired of being sick and tired. In fact, it is all of these things, not least two terms with a black president. In the same way that black skin signals danger to the police , his black skin, to black people, signaled black cultural preservation. African-Americans didn’t see a black man as the most powerful leader in the free world; we saw the most powerful leader in the free world as black. This is what comedian Larry Wilmore was expressing at the 2016 White House Correspondents’ Dinner when he said, “Yo, Barry, you did it, my nigga.” It was a moment of unadulterated black pride.

Militants Attack American Compounds In Benghazi Libya Killing Us Ambassador Chris Stevens And Three Other Americans There Will Eventually Be Eight Congressional Probes Into The Incident

“I Know I Let Everybody Down”

“Before the debate, David Plouffe and I went in to talk to him and give him a pep talk and he said, ‘Let’s just get this over with and get out of here,’ which is not what you want to hear from your candidate right before the debate. We knew within ten minutes that it was going to be a debacle. We had armed him with a joke — it was his 20th anniversary, and he addressed Michelle — and it turns out Romney was expecting just such a line and had a really great comeback. And Romney was excellent — just free and easy and clearly well prepared and showed personality that people hadn’t seen before. Obama looked like he was at a press conference.

We had a meeting at the White House and he said, ‘I know I let everybody down and that’s on me, and I’m not going to let that happen again,’ and that was his attitude. We always had debate camps before, where we’d re-create in hotel ballrooms what the set would look like, and all of the conditions of the real debate. When we went down to Williamsburg, Virginia, for the next debate camp, he seemed really eager to engage in the prep. We had a decent first night. That was on Saturday. On Sunday night, Kerry, playing Romney, got a little more aggressive and Obama a little less so; it looked very much like what we had seen in Denver. It was like he’d taken a step back.

Scott Brown Is Elected Massachusetts Senatorturning Ted Kennedys Seat Republican For The First Time Since 1952 And Suddenly Throwing The Prospect Of Passing Obamacare Into Jeopardy

Plan B

“I’m talking to Rahm and Jim Messina and saying, ‘Okay, explain to me how this happened.’ It was at that point that I learned that our candidate, Martha Coakley, had asked rhetorically, ‘What should I do, stand in front of Fenway and shake hands with voters?’ And we figured that wasn’t a good bellwether of how things might go.

This might have been a day or two before the election, but the point is: There is no doubt that we did not stay on top of that the way we needed to. This underscored a failing in my first year, which was the sort of perverse faith in good policy leading to good politics. I’ll cut myself some slack — we had a lot to do, and every day we were thinking, Are the banks going to collapse? Is the auto industry going to collapse? Will layoffs accelerate? We just didn’t pay a lot of attention to politics that first year, and the loss in Massachusetts reminded me of what any good president or elected official needs to understand: You’ve got to pay attention to public opinion, and you have to be able to communicate your ideas. But it happened, and the question then was, ‘What’s next?’

Sheryl Sandbergs Lean In Hits Bookstores Making The Feminist Case That Women Should Be More Aggressive And Ambitious In Their Careers And Making Feminists Themselves Very Angry

The “Mommy Wars” Finally Flame Out

After decades of chilly backlash, we find ourselves, these past eight years, in an age of feminist resurgence, with feminist websites and publications and filmmakers and T-shirts and pop singers and male celebrities and best-selling authors and women’s soccer teams. Of course, as in every feminist golden age, there has also been dissent: furious clashes over the direction and quality of the discourse, especially as the movement has become increasingly trendy, shiny, and celebrity-backed.

Perhaps the most public feminist conflagration of the Obama years came at the nexus of policy and celebrity, of politics and pop power. It was the furor over Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, who gave a viral 2010 TED Talk about women in the workplace who “leave before they leave” — who alter their professional strategy to accommodate a future they assume will be compromised by parenthood — which led to the publication of her 2013 feminist business manifesto, Lean In.

It’s a lesson of the Obama era: One approach to redressing inequality does not have to blot out the others. Sometimes, attacking from all angles is the most effective strategy.

Texas State Senator Wendy Davis Laces Up Her Pink Running Shoes And Spends Ten Long Hours Attempting To Filibuster A Billthat Wouldve Imposed Statewide Abortion Restrictions

“The Concept of Dignity Really Matters”

“I was given an enormous degree of latitude. I did communicate with the White House counsel on occasion about high-profile cases, but it was much more in the nature of just giving them a heads-up, to calm any nervous feelings they might have. There’s only one exception to that, and it was on marriage equality, in the Hollingsworth v. Perry case in 2013. We were contemplating coming in and arguing that it was unconstitutional for California to refuse to recognize the legal validity of same-sex marriages. But we didn’t have to do it . And because it was a discretionary judgment, and it was such a consequential step, that was the one matter where I really sought out the president’s personal guidance. I wanted to make sure the president had a chance to thoroughly consider what we should do before we did it. It was really one of the high points of my tenure. It was a wide-ranging conversation about doctrinal analysis, about where society was now, about social change and whether it should go through the courts or through the majoritarian process, about the pace of social change, about the significance of the right at stake. He was incredibly impressive.

A Golf Summit Between John Boehner And Barack Obama Stirs Hopethat Perhaps The Two Parties Will Come To A Budget Agreement And Forestall A True Crisis Secret And Semi

A Grand Bargain That Wasn’t, Remembered Three Ways

“The president of the United States and the Speaker of the House, the two most powerful elected officials in Washington, decided in a conversation that they both had to try to make something happen. Maybe it would be the way it worked in a West Wing episode in a world that doesn’t work like a West Wing episode. That’s how it started — two individuals saying we’re going to try. I think they both shared a belief in the art of the possible, and they both did not think compromise was a dirty word.

When our cover was blown — a Wall Street Journal editorial came out saying that Boehner and Obama were working on this and attacking the whole premise — that was devastating. It resulted in Cantor being a part of the talks. Cantor and Boehner came in, and I think it was a weekend private session with the president in the Oval Office, and they were talking about the numbers. At one point Cantor said, ‘Listen, it’s not just the numbers. There’s concern that this will help you politically. Paul Ryan said if we do this deal, it will guarantee your reelection. If we agree with Barack Obama on spending and taxes, that takes away one of our big weapons.’ There were so many obstacles, some of them substantive — how much revenue, and what about the entitlements? — but there was also this overlay of ‘This is going to help Obama.’

Illustrations by Lauren Tamaki

The Obama Administration Unveils Its Plan For Regulating Wall Streetwhich Is Then Introduced In Congress By Senator Chris Dodd And Representative Barney Frank

MJ=JC?

Lane Brown: Michael Jackson’s death was a big deal for lots of obvious reasons, including the surprising way it happened and the fact that he was arguably the most famous person on the planet.

Nate Jones: He was an A-lister with an indisputable body of work; he was 50 years old, his hits were the right age — old enough that every generation knew them, but not too old that they weren’t relevant anymore.

LB: But it was also the first huge celebrity death to happen in the age of social media, or at least the age of Twitter.

NJ: MJ’s death came alongside the protests in Iran, which was when Twitter went mainstream.

LB: It also meant that so much of the instant reaction was to make it all about us.

Frank Guan: In a lot of ways, the culture prefers the death of artists to their continuing to live. Once an artist gets launched into the stratosphere, there’s no way to come down, and that permanence becomes monotonous. They run out of timely or groundbreaking material and the audience starts tuning out. At some point, their fame eclipses their art, and then the only way to get the general audience to appreciate them anew is for them to die.

LB: People seem to like the grieving process so much that even lesser celebrities get the same treatment.

Congresswoman Gabby Giffords Returns To The House Floor For The First Time Since Being Shot In A Massacre In January Casting A Vote In Favor Of The Debt

A Rare Moment of Unity

“I was doing intensive rehabilitation in Houston at the time but was following the debate closely, and I was pretty disappointed at what was happening in Washington. I’d seen the debate grow so bitter and divisive and so full of partisan rancor. And I was worried our country was hurtling toward a disastrous, self-inflicted economic crisis. That morning, when it became clear the vote was going to be close, my husband, Mark, and I knew we needed to get to Washington quickly. I went straight from my rehabilitation appointment to the airport, and Mark was at our house in Houston packing our bags so he could meet us at the plane.

That night, I remember seeing the Capitol for the first time since I was injured and feeling so grateful to be at work. I will never forget the reception I received on the floor of the House from my colleagues, both Republicans and Democrats. And then, like I had so many times before, I voted.

I worked so hard to get my speech back, and honestly, talking to people who share my determination helped me find my words again. I’ve been to Alaska, Maine, and everywhere in between. Best of all, I got back on my bike. Riding my bike once seemed like such a huge challenge. It seemed impossible.”

Miley Cyrus Twerks At The Mtv Vmassetting Off A Controversy About Cultural Appropriation That Soon Ensnares Seemingly Every White Pop Star On The Planet

• Karlie Kloss wears a Native American headdress and fringed bra at the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

• Justin Timberlake is accused of appropriating black music when he tells a black critic “We are the same” after praising Jesse Williams’s BET Humanitarian Award speech about race and police brutality.

• DJ Khaled gets lost on Jet Ski, snaps the whole time.

• Two UW-Madison students snap their meet-cute as the entire student body cheers them on.

• Playboy Playmate Dani Mathers films and mocks an anonymous woman in the gym shower.

• A Massachusetts teen records the sexual assault of a 16-year-old girl. The video is later seen by a friend of the victim.

Prior To Going To War In Iraq Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld Optimistically Predicted The Iraq War Might Last Six Days Six Weeks I Doubt Six Months

What’s more, Vice-President Dick Cheney said we would be greeted as liberators by the Iraqi people after we overthrow Saddam.

They were both horribly wrong. Instead of six weeks or six months, the Iraq war lasted eight long and bloody years costing thousands of American lives. It led to an Iraqi civil war between the Sunnis and the Shiites that took hundreds of thousands of Iraqi lives. Many Iraqi militia groups were formed to fight against the U.S. forces that occupied Iraq. What’s more, Al Qaeda, which did not exist in Iraq before the war, used the turmoil in Iraq to establish a new foothold in that country.

The Iraq war was arguably the most tragic foreign policy blunder in US history.

In 2012 Republicans Predicted That Failure To Approve The Keystone Pipeline Would Send The Price Of Gasoline Sky High And Kill Large Numbers Of Jobs

Despite the fact that the Keystone Pipeline was not approved, the price of gasoline continued to drop below $1.80 per gallon, millions of new jobs were created and unemployment dropped from 8% to 4.9% by early 2016. The most optimistic predictions say that the Keystone Pipeline would only create a few dozen long-term jobs and would do nothing to lower the price of gasoline.

Eric Cantors Stunning Primary Loss Suggests No Politician Is Safe From The Rage Of The Tea Party Not Even The Tea Partys Canniest Political Leader

From Party’s Future to Also-Ran in a Single Day

On the day his political career died, Eric Cantor was busy tending to what he still believed was its bright future. While his GOP-primary opponent, David Brat, visited polling places in and around Richmond, Virginia, Cantor spent his morning 90 miles away at a Capitol Hill Starbucks. He was there to host a fund-raiser for three of his congressional colleagues — something he did every month, just another part of the long game he was playing, which, he believed, would eventually culminate in his becoming Speaker of the House.

The preceding five years had brought Cantor tantalizingly closer to that goal. In the immediate aftermath of Obama’s election, he’d rallied waffling House Republicans to stand in lockstep opposition to the new president’s agenda. In 2010, he’d helped elect 87 new Republican members, giving the GOP a House majority and making Cantor the House majority leader. He became the champion of these freshmen members, stoking their radicalism during the debt-ceiling fight and working to undermine Obama and John Boehner’s attempt to strike a “grand bargain.” His alliance with the ascendant tea party was strategic — it gave him leverage not only over Obama but over other Republicans who might also have had aspirations of becoming Speaker. It never occurred to him that the wave he was trying to ride might crash on him instead.

In 1993 When Bill Clinton Raised Taxes On The Wealthiest 15% Republicans Predicted A Recession Increased Unemployment And A Growing Budget Deficit

They weren’t just wrong: The exact opposite of everything they predicted happened. The country experienced the seven best years of economic growth in history.

Twenty-two million new jobs were added.

Unemployment dropped below 4%.

The poverty rate dropped for seven straight years.

The budget deficit was eliminated.

There was a growing budget surplus that economists projected could pay off our national debt in 20 years.

Republicans Predicted That We Would Find Iraqs Weapons Of Mass Destruction Even Though Un Weapons Inspectors Said That Those Weapons Didn’t Exist

The Bush administration continued to insist that WMDs would be found, even when the CIA said some of the evidence was questionable. As we all know, the WMDs predicted by the Bush administration did not exist, and Saddam Hussein had not resumed his nuclear weapons program as they claimed. Ultimately, both President Bush and Vice President Cheney had to admit that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

Republicans Predicted That President Obamas Tax Increase For The Top 1% In 2013 Would Kill Jobs Increase The Deficit And Cause Another Recession

You guessed it; just the opposite happened. In the four years following January 1, 2013, when that tax increase went into effect, through January 2017, unemployment dropped from 7.9% to 4.8%, an average of more than 200,000 new jobs were created per month, Wall Street set new record highs, and the budget deficit was cut in half.

Over 5.7 million new jobs were created in the first two years after that tax increase. That’s more jobs created in two years than were created during the combined 12 years of both Bush presidencies.

In 2001 When George W Bush Cut Taxes For The Wealthy Republicans Predicted Record Job Growth Increased Budget Surplus And Nationwide Prosperity

Once again, the exact opposite occurred. After the Bush tax cuts were enacted:

The budget surplus immediately disappeared.

The budget deficit eventually grew to $1.4 trillion by the time Bush left office.

Less than 3 million net jobs were added during Bush’s eight years.

The poverty rate began climbing again.

We experienced two recessions along with the greatest collapse of our financial system since the Great Depression.

In 1993, President Clinton signed the Brady Law mandating nationwide background checks and a waiting period to buy a gun.

Apple Announces That It Has Sold 100 Million Iphoneswithin A Few Months It Will Overtake Exxonmobil As The Most Valuable Company In The World

Earthlings Gain a New Appendage

What if we had the singularity and nobody noticed? In 2007, Barack Obama had been on the trail for weeks, using a BlackBerry like all the cool campaigners, when the new thing went on sale and throngs lined up for it. The new thing had a silly name: iPhone. The iPhone was a phone the way the Trojan horse was a horse.

Now it’s the gizmo without which a person feels incomplete. It’s a light in the darkness, a camera, geolocator, hidden mic, complete Shakespeare, stopwatch, sleep aid, heart monitor, podcaster, aircraft spotter, traffic tracker, all-around reality augmenter, and increasingly a pal. At the Rio Olympics you could see people, having flown thousands of miles to be in the arena with the athletes, watching the action through their smartphones. As though they needed the mediating lens to make it real.

This device, this gadget — a billion have been made and we scarcely know what to call it. For his 2010 novel of the near future, , Gary Shteyngart made up a word, “äppärät.” “My äppärät buzzing with contacts, data, pictures, projections, maps, incomes, sound, fury.” Future then, present now. His äppäräti were worn around the neck on pendants. Ours are in our pockets when they aren’t in our hands, but they also sprout earbuds, morph into wristwatches and eyeglasses. Contact lenses have been rumored; implants are only a matter of time.

Let’s face it, we’ve grown a new organ.

Republicans Said Waterboarding And Other Forms Of Enhanced Interrogation Are Not Torture And Are Necessary In Fighting Islamic Extremism

In reality, waterboarding and other forms of enhanced interrogation that inflict pain, suffering, or fear of death are outlawed by US law, the US Constitution, and international treaties. Japanese soldiers after World War II were prosecuted by the United States for war crimes because of their use of waterboarding on American POWs.

Professional interrogators have known for decades that torture is the most ineffective and unreliable method of getting accurate information. People being tortured say anything to get the torture to end but will not likely tell the truth.

An FBI interrogator named Ali Soufan was able to get al Qaeda terrorist Abu Zubaydah to reveal crucial information without the use of torture. When CIA interrogators started using waterboarding and other enhanced interrogation methods, Zubaydah stopped cooperating and gave his interrogators false information.

Far from being necessary in the fight against terrorism, torture is completely unreliable and counter-productive in obtaining useful information.

In 2008 Republicans Said That If We Elect A Democratic President We Would Be Hit By Al Qaeda Again Perhaps Worse Than The Attack On 9/11

Former Vice-President Dick Cheney stated that electing a Democrat as president would all but guarantee that there would be another major attack on America by Al Qaeda. Cheney and other Republicans were, thankfully, completely wrong. During Obama’s presidency, we had zero deaths on U.S. soil from Al Qaeda attacks and we succeeded in killing Bin Laden along with dozens of other high ranking Al Qaeda leaders.

Game Of Thrones Arrives On Televisionwith An Assemblage Of Dragons Torture Nudity Incest And Despair A Show The Whole Family Can Enjoy

Explaining Kale

ADAM PLATT: Many things in Foodlandia, these days, have a political element to them, and if you want to emblazon a flag to be carried into battle, you could do worse than a bristly, semi-digestible bunch of locally grown kale.

ALAN SYTSMA: To eat kale is to announce you’re a person who cares about the matters of the day.

AP: The idea of kale is much more powerful than kale itself. In short order it went from being discovered, to appreciated, to being something that was parodied. Frankly, I’m all for the parody.

AS: The same thing happened to pork. Remember bacon peanut brittle? Bacon-fat cocktails? There’s bacon dental floss.

AP: Ahhh, bacon versus kale. The two great, competing forces of our time.

AS: Do you think one gave way to the other?

AP: What we’re really talking about is artisanal bacon, and the more sophisticated-sounding pork belly, made from pigs that were lovingly reared at upstate farms and fed diets of pristine little acorns. Bacon is the great symbol in the comfort-food, farm-fresh-dining movement, a kind of merry, unbridled pulchritude. Kale is the righteous yin to pork’s fatty, non-vegan yang.

AS: But pork has an advantage: People like the way it tastes.

AP: That’s a huge advantage, one that will hopefully see it through to victory.

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hihoneyimdead · 4 years

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Post for Friday Night Fights by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

I’ve never done one of these before, but I also haven’t written anything original in months, so I brought out some new ocs! This was kinda hard but I like these guys and might sneak them into my wip!

Meet Emerson, known asshole, Smith, known ghost, and Rogers, known coward.

“What, may I ask, the actual fuck is a Streamy?”

I ignore the question and smack Smith away with a salt-covered hand. Smith skitters backwards with a hiss and a flutter of the curtains and flickering of the lights. Thankfully my laptop isn’t plugged in because there is no way in any of the hells that I can afford a new one. Not after last time.

“Personal space,” I snap, eye twitching. The costs of this operation are going through the roof already, what with the house and the new laptop and the new phone and the new everything because someone refuses to accept that electronics aren’t as dense as they were when he was a kid, like, a billion years ago. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

“I was an orphan,” Smith says.

“Not my problem. Now, listen, get close to me again, and I will call Rogers back in.”

Behind me, he shudders, the room’s temperature dropping a good couple of degrees. Thank God for the summer heat (for once, and never again.) I’m sure that Rogers, miles and miles away tucked under his sorry excuse for a church praying to whatever god he’s worshiping this week, is doing the same. Times like this make me wish I didn’t settle down here, or that I had picked a better haunting ground to steal in the name of fame, fortune, and a future in reality television. I made the active decision, after all, to buy a haunted house. Not only was it infinitely cheaper, but it gave me the ability to capitalize on the haunting with a YouTube series and an incredibly active Twitter account. This is my burden, for worse or for worse, and I brought it upon myself. Though if the gods are really this against me, I should have just stayed in the hospital. At least the ghosts there are competent.

Retirement came easy once I was told I would never walk again. Not like I can go around hunting ghosts and being the hero in a wheelchair, not until I can afford one that doesn’t break down every time I even think about leaving a hardwood surface (because even her extremely generous life insurance can only get so far.) And I had thought at the time that it would be good for me. Running around for so long, it’s tiring. Was tiring. I could go to therapy, finally, or get to work on that novel I’d been planning since middle school.

And then I saw therapy costs and broke the lead on my pencil every time I tried putting it to paper, seeing her eyes as she-

Rogers told me to start a diary. Helped him when he was down, he said. But he was also curled up under my dining table clutching a bagel to his chest as Smith looked down upon us upside-down through the ceiling, concerned as ever.

But pencils are bad. Pens are expensive, and they run out of ink too quickly (Smith keeps stealing them to write in his own diary up in the attic where he knows I can’t go and steal them back and also send his ass to the hells where he belongs.) Paper rips, and it cuts, and I don’t like bleeding all too much. But my laptop had a camera, a cheap one that was grainy and shitty and barely picked up audio after so long sitting in a case next to my bed gathering dust.

“So I just stand like... this?” Smith asks, head detached and tucked under his arm. He sticks his tongue out and widens his eyes until they’re, literally, the size of dinner plates.

Rogers, cowering under his hat, shakes his head. “Ah. No? I... Em?”

I roll my eyes and roll over to take Smith’s head and put it under his other arm, poking his eye in the process. He only protests a little.

“What’s with the face?” I ask, nose wrinkled. “Aren’t you supposed to be, you know, scary?”

“I am.” Smith pouts, notably not scary.

Smith is the least scary apparition I have ever had the displeasure of dealing with. Not only does he have all of his body parts intact (he died of poisoning, or something, fuck if I know or care), but he also cries when I even mention bringing out the holy water. One time he hid under Rogers’ coat when he came over, much to Rogers’ absolute horror and terror. But he also won’t be exorcised, no matter what I try. It’s annoying. There’s another ghost here somewhere perfect for this, I know, I feel. I can feel them sitting in the storm cellar by where Rogers says the apparent rows of shelves of empty, dusty jars sits.

Rogers squeaks and pulls his hat lower over his face. “He is, he is! Em, please!”

I roll my eyes and pinch Smith’s cheek. Hard. “Could it kill you to try, you know, being the evil, demonic spirit you are?”

“I’m not evil. And I’m already dead, jackass.”

“Most assuredly dead,” Rogers agrees.

In the cellar, I can faintly feel the presence floating up to listen, as it has been for the past week and a half as we try and get this pilot episode filmed.

“Buzzed Feed isn’t going to pick us up if you. Are. Not. Scary!” I snap, pinching Smith’s cheek for emphasis.

“Do you mean Buzzfeed?” Rogers asks.

“The fuck is a Buzzfeed?” Smith asks.

I groan and look to the presence beneath the floorboards. It’s laughing. I hate it.

“Buzzfeed isn’t into this stuff, dude,” Rogers says. “You’re thinking of Netflix.”

“What’s a Netflix?” Smith asks.

If she were alive, Sammi would be laughing at us. But she’s not, and I don’t think she would know what a ‘Net flicks’ is, either.

“Didn’t you die in 2008?” Rogers asks, peeking out from under his hat.

“1908.”

“Ah.”

“That’s a whole century apart! How did you get that wrong?”

“I’m sorry!”

I push myself back and away from the shitty ghost and the shittier exorcist with a huff, going to retrieve my laptop from its spot on the counter so I can pull up that breathing website (it’s the only good thing Rogers has ever found.) The spirit below follows me.

Smith coughs, the already-flickering kitchen light going out for half a second, and Rogers screams, and I count down from ten in my mind. I’m not going to run my idiot best friend over. I’m not going to get him to exorcise the key to my future success. We are going to make a television show, I am going to get the royalties, and I am going to bury my sister where she belongs.

I let out a five-second breath, tuning the two idiots out. It’s going to fine. It’s going to be fine.

And then the spirit underneath me pushes its way through the floorboards and through my lap and I almost fall out of my chair because-

“What the fuck?” Smith demands. I don’t even have the energy to jump or slap him as he appears by my side, head reattached. He jabs a finger into the other spirit’s chest, literally. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know.” The other Smith smiles, all teeth, bloody. He’s bloody.

“Em hates tea,” Rogers unnecessarily says, probably frozen in fear and-slash-or shivering like a shaved penguin where he stands.

“This is the worst-case scenario,” I say. “Please get out of me before I have a heart attack.”

He doesn’t, so I do.

#friday night fights #tw death mention #tw blood #fnf fill #idk who they are just that i love them #i can't wait to do more with these guys!!#i should make my writing blog now then

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retroandreal · 4 years

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Trust Issues (Antonio x MC)

She’s back, baby!! Usual kinda fluffy, angsty fic in Antonio’s POV. This was inspired by the song ‘Trust Issues’ by Drake and I have been keeping the song on repeat for the longest time now cause... Drake’s voice is just honey butter. Also, I’m half Colombian so I saw this as a perfect opportunity to include some Spanish in it (just basic words and phrases, nothing too complex). I hope you all enjoy and I love every single one of you. Especially you; @official-alex-cyprin

Summary: Little snippets from Antonio’s route from Havenfall is for Lovers in his point of view; before meeting our sarcastic MC, revealing he is a vampire and the moment Eva was turned on the private beach

Warnings - mentions of blood and medical procedures

“I promise you, mi hermana. I am close to finding a cure for you”

MC; Havenfall. Not too far from the Indiana branch of DSD Corp. Tomorrow night, I go and seek this girl who holds the special blood to potentially save my precious Evita. For many life spans, I have worked tirelessly to find the miracle to save you and I have a feeling that I am very close with this woman in Havenfall. I have done everything to save you; my life, this company and many late nights all for you and I would do it again in a heartbeat and nothing with stop me from finding that cure for you… even if I have to kill for it.

All I care about is money and the city that I’m from

You never deserved any of this. If I had to give up my own life to save you, I would have done it many years ago. If I had to give up my sworn hermano and his own life, I would do so with no remorse. Every day, you’re slowly getting weaker and weaker and cannot bare to watch you frail away while I did nothing all those years ago. Diego, cabron, you are a doctor, yet you shy away from what was once the most important thing in your life all those years ago. Diego, I am coming for your city, and I will stop at nothing to get the blood of that girl to save Evita. If you were in my position, I know you would have done the same.

“Mierda… when did I get so hungry”

The mini fridge (or personal blood bank) was just restocked a few hours ago. One of the perks of working within the medical industry is the seemingly ethical sources of blood that I need. Regardless, I have been rationing the blood and volunteering them for Evita’s emergency source. It’s doing the job of keeping her vitals alive and breathing but I know that mortal, human blood is slowly poisoning her. There was a time where I would feed unforgivingly on other humans, back then. Not because I was insatiably hungry, but I was frustrated. Frustrated and angry at the world and I wanted to see the life slowly get sucked from it, just as Evita’s life is slowly sucked from her own.

I’mma sip until I feel it, I’mma smoke it till it’s done

I was young back then and full of rage. It was a temporary fixation and I don’t really give a fuck and my excuse was that I was young. I grew up, older and wiser… eventually. I started to look for a more permanent solution for Evita’s sickness hence why I and now CEO of DSD Corp.

“Grace… scholarship acceptee to the University of Indiana. Family; MC”

Grace, huh? Looks like I found my connection to Evita’s cure quicker than I anticipated.

“Well. My dear ‘Grace’, how do you fancy studying abroad in Spain?”

~~~~~

“Somebody should have told you, MC”

She’s trembling. A mixture of shock, awe and fear. She had just found out, through me, that her hometown and closest friends have been immortal monsters, and no one told her anything. What is this feeling? It’s not mine. Are these her projections of her anguish and feelings that I can feel as well? No, there has to be an explanation for this. I haven’t felt this sensation since Diego, Evita and I were altogether on the streets of Spain over a hundred years ago.

She turns to me. Now, I feel the anger radiating off of her body

“Is that why you paid for Grace to go to Spain on scholarship? Just so you could get to me. Fine, just kill me dammit! Tear me to pieces! I don’t know what your kind do!”

What is this feeling? She’s the one I am supposed to drain the life out of in order to save Evita. But I cannot simply bring myself to do so. Clueless is what she is. She knows nothing about this life or the vampire society. I offer her a middle ground;

“Say, MC. It appears that you are very mistaken of my needs and my vendettas. I am not here in Havenfall to kill you. Your friends, however, would be the one to tear ME to pieces if they ever found out I even harmed a single hair on you especially that djinn friend of yours.” She ponders over that thought and slowly agrees.

“Well, I guess you have a point there… Th-That doesn’t mean that I should trust you right away you know!” Tears well up in her eyes. Her icy blue orbs becoming glassy and she fails to keep her sobs at bay while she talks. “Grace is my only family… Antonio. Do you know what it feels like to have your only family taken away from you and you just feel helpless? Like you can’t do anything more, that they deserve even more than what you are capable of giving them?”

I do. I really do. I know she does not possess the same abilities as I do but I try to convey the most empathetic of feelings as I can.

“Her name is Evita, Eva if you would prefer. She’s dying, MC. The blood that I have been able to source for her has only been able to keep her vitals stable, but it’s not permanent. You’re special, MC. I need some of your blood to save her. Please?”

You’re the only one, I don’t trust these others

She shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool

“Ok, fancy me this. I can teach you all you need to know about the vampire society; the good and the bad in order to gain your trust for this. I will not keep secrets only if you ask me to, trato?”

Her beautiful blue eyes roll to the back of her head

You’ll know what I’m sippin’, I’ll teach you how to mix it

“You gotta stop with the Spanish spiels okay? I can barely speak English fluently and my kneejerk reactions usually consists of mono-syllable sounds. But, fine. I will help Eva for you. NOT because I am doing it for you. But because I have a sister too, and I would do anything for her. So, I guess I kinda know what your go is here. Like, we’re not that different you and I when it comes down to it.”

She looks down towards the tips of her bowling sneakers and plays with the frayed hem of her uniform

“You really love her… don’t you, Antonio?”

Now you’re understanding where I’m coming from, mi Salvador, so it will not take you long to realise that you will need to keep your promises for my livelihood, and Evita’s life… and your life too.

~~~~~

“Lillian, do it”

The powerful coven leader sinks her teeth into Evita’s flesh as she starts the controlled ritual of turning her, into one of us. No longer bonded by the blood of a third party, who was also draining the life of someone that used to trust me until they would breathe their last breath. She chose to be present for the turning of Evita, slightly overdressed for the beach location but nonetheless, she’s still here. Despite us not being connected by our bond, not together… I still love her and everything that she stands for. If it was not for her bravery, Evita would not have even been able to gain consciousness to even consent to her turning into someone like me. I was very against it at first, but I can never disregard the wishes of my baby sister. Despite us being ‘broken up’ and she put it, she still helped Evita, she knew it was slowly draining the life out of her; as far as her passing out from the amount of blood that had been sucked from her in order to keep Evita alive. But she never backed down or ran away. But she ran away from me. Because I am the monster that was selfish enough to strip her of her own freewill in order to keep her by my side.

“A-Antonio?”

“Evita! Mi hermana” I run to her side as she opens her eyes; coloured like the blood moon, just like me. I check over every inch of her body to make sure she isn’t bleeding from anywhere else besides the two puncture wounds in her neck. She is safe. Here. Alive. One of the most important women in my life is now safe. The long hours and billions of dollars funneled, hanging onto a thin string of hope that I can bring her back from her unconscious state.

I catch her in the corner of my eye, slowly sinking her body into the ocean. I let her be… until I feel a throbbing and burning sensation within my lungs. I can still feel her. No, I can once again feel her. Another localized pain radiates through me. Within my heart; a dull but hurting ache. She is hurting as much as I am. Being away from her. She agreed to stay friends for the sake of Evita but nothing more. I was the one that pushed her away in the first place, for her protection. But I acted like nothing more than a selfish bastard towards her and didn’t care about her own health.

You acting like somebody you don’t know

The burning ache in my lungs grows stronger; she’s losing oxygen!

I run towards the water, discarding my shoes on the way there and hastily sink my whole body into the warm water of the private beach. She slowly closes her eyes, engulfing her sight into a pit of darkness. I grab her wrist and cup her face with both my hands as we stay suspended in the warm water. She opens her eyes and looks right into mine. She’s hurting; because of me. I wanted to stay away to keep her safe, but I can see and feel that she is hurting. Was being friends not enough?

Tell me, how we supposed to stay friends when you got a bunch of feelings that you don’t show

No, I cannot simply “stay friends”

I feel that ache within my heart as well

You were the only one that opened their heart for me when I was desperate

Certain people don’t like me no more

I have never felt a touch as gentle as yours

I push everyone away, but you still managed to keep me hooked

You can look me in the eye and see that I ain’t myself

But you drive me crazy

You’re insatiable, but I want to keep pleasing you. Appeasing you

That’s the shit that drives me crazy

Because I have Trust Issues, I have never let anyone get as close to me as you have

But if you will allow me.

Let me keep you, and you for me.

Mi cielo.

Mi reina.

#havenfall is for lovers #lovestruck smut #lovestruck voltage #lovestruck #antonio vasquez #jordan davies #diego escalona #hifl #hifl mc #voltage hifl #razi nassar #vanessa helsing #mackenzie hunt

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tittyinfinity · 4 years

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I hate scoliosis and kyphosis so much, with arthritis on top of it....I don't want a spine or shoulder blades anymore

Oh my god I'm in so much pain that I'm trying to drink it away from the bottle of booze my friend gave me for having a bad night (I can't afford that shit, spent the only money I had on important things)

I mean, I'm also drinking because I spent the day listening to my mom say how horrible my brother and I are because we switched the hose on the vacuum so we could clean more thoroughly. I changed it back immediately but she went off on us for it for the rest of the night. Because it "shouldn't be her responsibility to change the vacuum". We cleaned the entire house, and that was her issue.

She's going through meth withdrawals. I can't do this shit.

Also hearing since I was 16 that "chronic pain and ADHD isn't an excuse to not do things as soon as I tell you, even though now you're a full grown adult and you and your brother pay the vast majority of the bills". we pay 700/mo together; the mortgage on this house is $500, so my mom has to pay maybe $20 for the rest of the bills despite making the most money. Because we "owe it to her" for living in a place that HER MOTHER, OUR GRANDMOTHER paid $30k on - and she wouldn't have this house if we weren't living here. We also have to keep maintenance on the house. She won't leave the house, we have to go everywhere for her, despite her having her own vehicle. We cook for her almost every day and she doesn't thank us for that; she tells us that us cooking ruined her kitchen. We have to water all her plants, mow the yard, fix things around the house, deep clean every room, use my food stamps to feed all 4 of us ($400/mo)....she tells me I owe her my pain med prescription because of her chronic UTIs and "If I don't it means I have an addiction"....

So not only does she barely have to pay bills, and would literally lose her house if we weren't here, but thinks it's okay to scream at us for not watering her plants or leaving mail on a table or leaving 3 unwashed dishes on the counter

I mean sure, maybe if I did meth like her I could do all these things constantly. But any time she gets high and starts to clean the house, she goes off on us because "she shouldn't have to be cleaning at all". She did this to my dad before he died. He was literally dying from COPD and my mom screamed at him to keep doing hard physical work. He died right after building a porch for her cousin for free after he had fixed everything on the house and our cars.

And now she sees me with chronic health issues and does the same thing. I cried while doing the dishes earlier because of how much it hurt to move my arms because of my shoulder pain. But if I didn't, I'd have to live in my car until my housing application went through.

My mother is very abusive to the point that she screamed at my father THE DAY HE DIED for not doing enough within a certain period of time. EVEN THOUGH HE JUST FIXED ALL OUR CARS AND HOUSE ISSUES. BUT NO, THE SPOT HE MISSED ON THE FLOOR IN THE BATHROOM MAKES HIM A PIECE OF SHIT????! AND THEN HE FUCKING DIED FROM OVERWORKING HIMSELF WITH A DISABILITY!!!!!

BUT THIS DOESN'T MATTER TO HER AT ALL!!!!

Okay, I need to stop because there's a billion other things I could say about her behavior.

She is the most immature "adult" that I've ever seen.

"Hey mom, what you're saying is really mean and you're not listening to us at all because you just talk over us"

"WELL I GUESS I JUST WON'T DO ANYTHING NICE FOR YOU GUYS EVER AGAIN. MAYBE YOU SHOULD THINK ABOUT THE 3 CANS IN YOUR BEDROOM"

She is the reason for 90% of my mental health issues. If a romantic partner treated me like this she would tell me to dump them immediately lmaoooo

#long post #personal #parent abuse tw #abuse tw #drugs tw #meth tw

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sebthesnipe · 4 years

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The Dreamer by Whatwashernameagain an Analysis? Chapter 2! Part 4

All portions:

Chapter 1: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Chapter 2: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

The Dreamer

@whatwashernameagain

As always, Spoilers under cut.

Warning: Mentions of abuse, kinks... other stuff... Idk I’m too tired.

Jumping right in where we left off. Eva writes about the Dreamer’s organization growing practically overnight and the amount of publicity he had to go through; she talks about interviews, photo shoots, calendars and merchandise. It pulls the attention back from the good vs. evil and the moral debate we discussed in the previous portion of this analysis and reminds us that while Logan and Roman are at opposite ends and fight for morality (whether misguided or not); the organization that was created for the Dreamer is not concerned with those things. No, they are they are there for profit and power; both of which is provided by the Dreamer. This is no doubt exactly what Roman’s father was hoping for when he mutilated and tortured his son into being the ‘symbol of hope’ that he is now.

Our attention is also brought back to the fact that despite his love for the spotlight, Roman is a man of action when it comes to protecting others. It is pointed out that Roman ‘found the publicity work hard to bear at first’ (Whatwashernameagain). After all the time he spent changing himself, putting himself though such agonizing pain, he is found, once again, waiting. The photos the interviews, they are excused by his team explaining that that was how you saved the world in such a media driven society…. Well…. Honestly this kind of pisses me off lol. Because, the reality of it is… That that is partially true. Granted, the cure for cancer isn’t going to be found through Facebook posts… But the publicity can cause enough financial support to fund the research that leads to its discovery. Take Myllena Braz da Silva and Gabriel Martins, two Brazilian students who despite being a part of a less than booming town discovered a way to make new drugs that cost less money and time which could save millions of lives that are loss due to Zika (and they were High School students at the time!) but because they didn’t present this information in an attractive way or to enough people their work has pretty much been overlooked (“Abstract Search.”). It just goes to show you how much this world relies on the media and dramatizations.

I suppose the thing that upsets me the most is the line: “Chastised, Roman had deferred to their expertise” (Whatwashernameagain). This line is perfect here. After feeding Roman the lines about the necessity of social media despite Roman knowing at this core that he needed to act rather than make money for someone else, he reminds himself that these people know more than he does, that he is lessor than they in some way. It reminds the reader that despite his strength and his morals, Roman is still, at his core, an insecure child.

We are also once again, presented with the contrast between he and Logan. Roman mention Instagram and Twitter; places that are used to display yourself but are not very good means of communicating between him and his fans/supporters. While the Utilitarianist is mentioned using Discord and Tumblr; two social media platforms that are highly influenced by the people who contribute to them. Discord allows direct conversations between individuals and Tumblr allows for messaging, asks, etc. It is a subtle difference but one I quite enjoy.

Roman also mentions the was Logan’s groups ‘doing his dirty work, popped up all over the web like toxic mushrooms’ (Whatwashernameagain). Eva always has a way with metaphors. I think that Logan would have both good and bad things to say about this, however. Firstly, I think he would understand that Roman meant this as an insult. Secondly, he would probably not hesitated to point out to the incompetent man that there are some species of toxic mushrooms that theoretically produce billions of compounds through 1 molecular assembly line and can precisely target cells inside the human body and thusly can offer potential medicinal purposes which can lead to new medicines (“Do Poisonous Mushrooms Have a Pharmaceutical Purpose?”). Afterall many cyclic peptides are already known to be important drugs against things such as tuberculosis Staphylococcus, and even cancer (“Do Poisonous Mushrooms Have a Pharmaceutical Purpose?”). So, once again, Logan maybe viewed as bad (just as this toxic mushroom metaphor is) but he might be the medicine this world truly needs (at least… according to him).

“Tirelessly, he tried to remind the world of what mattered, using bold words to paint a bright and colorful picture of the future he truly believed in. A future of unity. They mustn’t lose sight of what mattered – standing together, fighting the hate the Utilitarianist spread with his extremism that called to simple solutions. To violence. Being kind was harder, almost impossibly hard, but Roman would not lose himself in hate, and he knew his fellow Americans wouldn’t either. Breaking the law and turning to murder would not save the planet, it would turn them into monsters” (Whatwashernameagain).

I would like to say that I only want to touch on this para briefly… but let’s be honest, I am rarely brief about anything. Most of what I am about to say is opinion. I have no facts or quotes to back me up on this; everything is simply my experience. Roman brings to light something I tell people all the time, though I am usually ignored. Actually, the question I get most often when people find out that I use to be Law Enforcement is generally ‘You seem to nice/kind to have been a cop’. I usually counter with a ‘you don’t know enough cops’… But when you really get down to it, I think there is a number of reasons people believe that; though I’m not going to get into the political ones. No, the one I want to focus on is hatred. I’ve seen a lot of it. I’ve seen what a person can do to another in the name of hatred. I’ve witnessed it firsthand… been on the receiving end of it…. Watched co-workers, friends, family… be eaten away by it. Here is the truth: hatred is a virus that lays dormant in us all. It is already a part of us, whether we know it or not. Once it is activated but whatever means… it grows and if we let it, it consumes us… If that hatred is seen by or directed towards another it is possible that the hatred that lies dormant inside them is activated…. From there it spreads… like an epidemic… Only epidemics have a cure… Hatred never goes away permanently. It is apart of us. If it is ‘cured’ the virus is still there, it is merely reverted back to its dormant stage… waiting for another chance to be activated.

I’ve watched it spread and spread… even when I was very little and I told myself that ‘that won’t be me’ but… hatred exists in all of us. So, what’s the ‘cure’ that will revert hatred back to its dormant state? Choice. Roman is right… Kindness is so much harder because it is not engrained in us… it is taught… whether by someone else or self-taught. Kindness is a choice. Happiness is a choice… I mentioned the effect of our thoughts on the outer world during Chapter 1. We choose out thoughts, we choose the effect we want to have, we choose kindness. Don’t the person who treated you poorly, pity them… What kind of sad life must they have lived to feel that it is acceptable to treat someone like they do… Or what kind of emotional baggage do they carry that makes them crave the feeling of hatred over numbness… Pity them… They’ve obvious lived a horrible life. Reach out a hand… Who knows… Maybe you’ll save a life rather than ruining on. You don’t have to forgive them… Some times you can’t… but you can be kind without forgiveness.

This of course, is all more difficult than it sounds and it took me years to manage it but it is true and possible. Hatred can be combatted with kindness. Forgiveness comes in time. Help those that hate you; they are misguided. In the end, hatred harms yourself more than others.

Okay… I think I might need to move on…. Ready for some whiplash?

“Even as Roman got to shake the hand of the president, he felt he was not doing enough. He should be out there, fighting harder.

Even after chasing him for almost a year now, Roman felt those things as strongly as ever. He was right, gosh darn it! How could this irritating man not see the merit of a peaceful solution? Who didn’t want peace?!” (Whatwashernameagain)

Poor poor Roman. I love him so much. The poor baby is obviously still having trouble with patience… or rather not-acting. The first line is a reminder that Roman is never enough for himself. He always has to be better, has to do better. I… can understand that. Perhaps if he ever considers himself enough for his father than he might consider himself enough for himself… but he never will be, will he? Enough for his father I mean…

But that revolution I mentioned at the beginning of Chapter 2 analysis is starting to rear its beautiful head. We see Roman starting to get more antsy than ever. Despite the reminder that he considers his team ‘wiser’ when it comes to these things, it is obvious that those thoughts are starting to wear thin. We see Roman’s exasperation grow with the frustrated tones of the last few sentences.

Though his frustration isn’t just directed towards himself and his team but towards the Utilitarianist as well. Roman has proven (as I covered in the last section of the analysis) that he believes all people are inherently good. So, you can imagine his frustration at the fact that his actions towards Logan lead nowhere. The catch is, we know Logan is good at heart and that Roman is as well; they just don’t know that about the other… Though I think Logan has an inkling.

Finally, we see Roman go against orders to keep his mouth shut and the hero confronts his villain for the first time. The setting could no be more perfect, Eva always does have quite the way of picking the perfect atmosphere for these kinds of things. “The wind created by the rotor blades of the approaching helicopter whipping at their clothes on the roof-top almost carried away his words” (Whatwashernameagain). Chaos is created in the scene by the helicopter making it hard to hear each other. Its really fantastic symbolism for their current state in their relationship and perhaps in themselves as well.

Roman is born from chaos. His misguided aspiration for his father’s love. The work that defines him being nothing more than a payload for said father. His fight to follow his team while ignoring the growing need to physically act. The good he wants to do by basically doing things that might not be what we would consider good or for good (mostly because its pretty much all for profit, not that Roman knows that).

Logan may not be born from chaos but he /is/ chaos. Logan is a great example of doing bad things for good reasons… Which in and of itself is fairly chaotic. Not to mention with every act he sends the world through another wave of chaos as well. His entire goal is to turn the economic world on its head in the first place… talk about chaos.

I love that the first line Roman ever speaks to the villain is “Why must you be so impossible?” (Whatwashernameagain). Fairly simplistic words, not much to be impressed about? I would disagree. The words are spoken with such informality that it is almost as if they knew each other, and in a way, I suppose that they. They’ve been meeting for over a year; fighting for over a year. They may not have spoken but they knew each other enough by now… at least that is what it felt like. No doubt when your world revolves around someone else, whether good or bad you feel like you know then. Logan is probably the only person in the world that knew Roman or that Roman felt like he knew even if they hadn’t spoken. Logan, at this point, is the closest thing to a friend that Roman has.

In the same paragraph we also see Roman’s sass returning, lightening our lives once more as he claims that Logan would be the cause of his death; that “He’d kill him with exasperation” (Whatwashernameagain). The way Roman almost curses but catches himself is also so wholesome. A gentleman would never lower himself to such language, of course.

And Logan, usually so cool and collected is pulled into Roman’s frustration. We see Logan’s struggle to keep himself in check and yet he indulges in himself, in such a human reaction. I’ve mentioned it before, but I’d like to point it out once more; Roman is a symbol of Logan’s humanity. Logan does his best not to feel regular emotions, he prefers to think of himself as a computer rather than human; the only time we really see Logan’s composure break is when he is facing Roman. Roman brings out these emotions in him; brings out the human part of him. We see that again here when Logan is unable to keep from replying.

“You cannot be serious. How dare you refer to me as impossible, you simple fool?” (Whatwashernameagian)

Once again, the words are simplistic and familiar, though they are spoken by Logan this time. The familiarity is there just as it is with Roman, despite the fact that he is insulting him. Once again it is possible (probable actually) that Roman is the closest thing Logan has to a friend. He does, after all build an AI to keep him company (along with doing his calculations).

We also see Roman try and be Logan’s conscious as well, which might be needed; after all computers don’t have a conscious; lecturing him about kidnapping and setting things on fire and worst of all ‘drowning [Roman] in frying fat!’… Though I don’t think there would be very many people upset about seeing Roman all oiled up… I know I wouldn’t. The reader’s attention is pulled back to Roman’s team members as Eva mentions the ‘ever-polite voice in his earpiece’ that was trying to get him under control; once again showing the difference between the team and Roman, himself.

The two men continue to argue bringing up a few valid points. Logan points out Roman’s ‘selfish’ thinking, which though we know, as the reader, isn’t exactly accurate it is understandable to believe that that is where Roman is coming from. He also points out that Roman is nothing by a monkey for the press and won’t be the one to bring about the revolution the world needs. Logan’s POV is accurate: Roman is acting as a monkey for his team and that on his present course there will be no revolution if he continues to follow them… Foreshadowing anyone?

““You- you unbelievable, impossible, infuriating villain – how could you dare to- I am attempting to save the world! You are trying to destroy it!” He’d howled, flailing uselessly with frustrated energy.

His righteous claim seemed to rile up the terrorist even more. Taking a few steps towards him over the cement that was starting to heat with the flames beneath them, he jabbed his finger at him” (Whatwashernameagain).

First off, I find it absolutely adorable that Roman is stuttering with his insults. I’m sure his opinion of Logan being unbelievable, impossible, and infuriating will never change. In fact, I would bet on it. They already sound like a married couple. I love them so much!

Looking beyond that, I really love the imagery here. This interaction is going to be the foundation of their companionship (if there will be a companionship which I am certain there will be); like the cement that Logan is crossing. In fact, the imagery of the cement heating with the flames beneath them can be a nod to a number of things. First it could represent the world around them burning and neither of them able to pay attention to anything but the other (which I am just ruined for); or it could be the heat of their passion for good, both extremely intense, both dangerous, both destructive in their own way (Logan physically and Roman’s political/economically).

Their argument continues, each calling the other stupid. We see Roman’s view on good vs. evil once more (which I’ve already covered; not to say it repeated… no the inflection on it is simply to remind us that Roman is a three-dimensional character who cares deeply about the subject). We see Logan losing himself to the humanity Roman brings out in him. We also see (which is my favorite part of the argument) Logan’s accusation about ‘selling topless calendars’ and the ‘heeled boots’. Why is this important? Well, Logan is a busy man he wouldn’t pay too close attention to what Roman’s next public exploit would be… Yet he knows about the topless calendars? I would put my money on the idea that he examined them… ‘for research purposes’ of course. As for the heeled boots well… We already know Remy’s opinion of dat ass… Heels only improve it 😉.

“The villain’s rant was interrupted as a sneaker hit his head from above. His supporters were exasperatedly waving at him to climb into the helicopter they had been screaming over before the police managed to arrest them, just as Roman’s operator had frantically urged him to free his leg and catch the man standing mere feet from him” (Whatwashernameagain).

Once again, we see the stark contrast between the hero and villain here; or rather… the similarity. Logan’s followers are urging him to leave the hero and move on, as he should have done in the first place. Eva compares then to the person on the other end of Roman’s ear piece. Both of them are a sense of reality that these men should be focused on rather than one another and yet neither seems to be able to pull themselves away from the other without an outside influence. They are both utterly hopeless and I love them.

Also #savetheworldtopless and #justpathologicallyevil should totally be a thing! Only #savetheworldtopless should be pictures of all different shapes and sizes of people in superhero poses either topless or like sportsbras/binders etc. basically how they seem themselves or how they want themselves to be; and #justpathologicallyevil should be full of adorable pictures of like cats and things doing mischievous things… I love these!!!

As for Roman’s operator quitting… good riddance. If that’s all it took, then he def wasn’t cut out for that job. Besides, not letting my baby speak is a sin against all mankind.

I’m so excited for the next para!

“Roman felt guilty for getting into an argument and behaving unprofessionally, but somehow, he felt like it had also gotten him closer to understanding the other man. He wasn’t a faceless monster but a person one could talk to – if a truly irritating and rude one – and people could be changed. Roman was good at convincing others of his position. His bright, attractive smile, warm and sweet manners and his polite reasoning had brought plenty of people around. Despite the continued threat of an escalation between the Utilitarianist’s supporters and his opposition, most people still liked Roman” (Whatwashernameagain).

This chapter has spent a lot of time ‘villainizing’ Logan (with good reason) the point of view of the Dream and its team is meant to paint Logan in that light; and thus far Eva has done so very effectively. Here, however, we see Roman reconsidering these points. For the first time Roman is looking past the mask and at the man behind it. It is not that he does not see Logan as a villain but rather he sees him as a human as well. That’s Roman for you though, caring about every human even the ones he considers bad or ‘evil’. I suppose this is a first for Logan as well. People don’t tend to look beyond the Utilitarianist to see the man underneath… they’re not suppose to either but here Roman sits seeing a man that can be swayed, a man that struggles with the good and the bad as we all do. Once again, we see Roman focusing on the individual once more.

“He brought the idea up at a team meeting, believing he’d finally found a way to work more effectively. However, he was turned down gently. They gave him to understand that he had misjudges the villain and that his attempts to negotiate with terrorists could have disastrous consequences. Chastised and feeling like a child make a dumb suggestion at the dinner table, he gave up. Still, despite his best intentions, he wound up arguing with the other again and again” (Whatwashernameagain).

Once again, we see how Roman’s team mistreats him; though they do so, subtly. We see Roman’s attempt at a solution that actually has some merit and may work and yet he is treated like the child they see him as and cast aside as if he didn’t have any weight on the matter. His intelligence is constantly insulted (though not obviously enough for him to feel offended). His goals do not align with that of the teams and therefore are inconsequential. However, Eva points out that the unlike how it was before (Roman making a suggestion, the team shooting him down and he dropping it) the arguments seemed to continue… perhaps this is because Roman is getting more confident? Pushing his boundaries? Leading himself to revolution?

“Their rivalry came to a crescendo when one of their fights once again distracted both of them. He had no idea why this man managed to make his blood boil this much with his talk about superior logic and necessity. Necessity his ass. (Roman would of course never say such a thing out loud, but still.)” (Whatwashernameagain)

This says a lot about Roman. His attention on Logan is continuously growing. He is paying more and more attention to the man as a person and not just as a villain. I mentioned before that Roman probably sees the similarities between Logan and his father but there are a few things he addresses with Logan that he would never say/do with his father. Here is perhaps the only man he is able to interact with (though perhaps not under the best circumstances) that is not pushing his own agenda on the man or putting him down. Someone he can actually argue with without being chastised by the other for the act. He is treated as an equal even if they are name calling one another and that is a big step for the hero; most of the people he deals with always treats him as if he is some child that needs to be seen not heard but Logan… Logan will indulge his passions, argue his points, allow him to be the passionate man he is. To Roman, Logan is an outlet for his passions and allows him to express himself as he truly is, not as his teams wants to be. It is no doubt a refreshing change.

During one of their arguments a pipe bursts over Logan’s head and without pause or consideration Roman rushes to save him, injuring himself fairly badly in the process; to the point that he needed immediate medical attention. Of course, he could heal very quickly but Logan doesn’t know this. I bring this up for two reasons.

Firstly, imagine what this means for Roman. Roman is driven by passion. He cares deeply for every living soul and he views Logan as a misguided person whose heart can be changed. So, when that person’s life is on the line he doesn’t think twice before jumping in the way to save him. This of course is going to cause a lot of issues with his team and perhaps the public but to him a life is a life and Logan’s is perhaps the closest person to him at the moment.

Logan on the other hand doesn’t really consider the individual life too important. It isn’t to say that he doesn’t care for each life in and of itself but if a single life lost would save countless then he wouldn’t hesitate to pull that trigger. To him, it is only logical. He knows that he has endangered and killed a number of people and it would be logical for Roman to allow him to die to advance his own agenda. So, when Roman saves him it no doubt takes a few minutes to process it all. No doubt he had to recalculate all of their interactions. Up until this point he had viewed Roman as nothing but a puppet for political/economic gain and yet… he had saved Logan… For no other reason than to save a life… He perhaps sees Roman’s truly pure intentions for the first time (no doubt cementing his opinion that the guy is an idiot). Logan in return drags Roman from the building and delivers him to an ambulance and we get to see the wonderful gift that is protective Logan… One of my favorite flavors!

Of course, our progress must have some repercussions; which means right on cue Roman’s father appears. Two years has past since Roman became the Dreamer and we’ve barely heard mention of the man. He tends to show up only when Roman does something wrong or if it is advantageous to him; which only cements the image that he’s a no-good money sucker that Roman is better off without. In fact, apparently Roman hasn’t seen the guy in months, which brings out the hero’s denial: “Roman understood he was doing important work, though. It was alright. . Sadly, his father had not been as pleased as he had so desperately hoped.” (Whatwashernameagain).

Denial and rationalization all over again, though I’m going to avoid the Freudian jargon as best I can because this section is already going to be so very long. Eva always has a way of pulling at the reader’s heartstrings with such simplicity and it is truly beautiful. With her last line, mentioning Roman’s desperate hope, my heart breaks. He still wants his father’s approval so badly that it hurts him. He truly is a child at heart when it comes to his father… The poor baby.

The conversation that ensues reminds the reader of the trauma that Roman has gone through to be the man that he is… To be what he thought his father wanted him to be… What the world wants him to be. We see his father’s anger as he demands an explanation and Roman’s immediate instinct to draw his knees close to his chest, curling up on himself as if to protect him from his father’s wrath or the emotions he brings out of the young man. Now it is possible that Roman’s father never laid a hand on him (honestly, I would be surprised if he had. That would mean he actually cared enough to beat the boy and I doubt he ‘wasted his time’ with that.) and this is just an instinctive reaction most people have when faced with emotional distressing situation. Though there is no proof of physical abuse we are already aware of the emotional abuse the man has put his son through, which can be just as bad.

We also see Roman hiding his pain ‘like he’d learned.’ Learned where? Learned during the countless horrific experiments and alterations he endured to become what he thought his father wanted him to be; just to find out his father still viewed him as practically worthless? Or was it before hand? Before all this? Either way when Logan finds out that the sorry POS of a ‘father’ treated Roman so horribly… I hope he gets what is coming to him (though I realize Roman will probably keep that from happening)!

“The rebuke hurt sharply. Swallowing, Roman tried to explain his reasoning he’d never thought he’d have to defend. The place was filled with people who were supposed to support him, yet he felt entirely alone” (Whatwashernameagain).

Roman’s father chastises him for letting Logan live and I think that Roman’s illusion of who is father is may be starting to crack a bit. At Roman’s core ever SINGLE life counts; it is one of the many reasons he became the Dreamer in the first place. But his father doesn’t give a damn about anyone else’s life but his own. As long as he’s making money that all he cares about. We also see Roman finally beginning to realize that despite the fact that he is surrounded by people that he has known for two years now, who are supposed to support him… he /is/ entirely alone.

“This would have been the perfect opportunity. You need to decide if you have what it takes or if you weren’t the right choice after all. Next time this chance presents itself, you let this god damn terrorist die instead of spreading his filth from a luxury prison.” His father had barked at him before leaving him alone to fear losing everything he’d bled for. Everything he’d become. Without the Dreamer, he had no idea who he was” (Whatwashernameagain).

The contrast between these two are as apparent as ever, here. His father is lecturing him to do exactly what Roman is whole heartedly against. He wants Roman to let someone die. He wants Roman to ignore the very core of his being… he wants him to be something Roman can never be and equivalently kill someone. The thing is, if Roman straight out refuses his father everything he has worked for, everything he fights for daily would be stripped from him. The fear of losing something you have worked so hard for is devastating. But it’s a bit more than that for Roman. He has changed everything about his life for this. His physical appearance, the way he lives, everything… I don’t think he realizes this because he would never think something so dark about his father but… If the Dreamer persona is stripped from him Roman would not get to roam free… His father has put in far too much work to create him, he knows to much, he is too much of a liability. No, Roman would either be locked up or killed if the Dreamer was ever taken away from him.

But that also begs the question, can the Dreamer be taken away from him? The Dreamer is a concept, an ideal of what Roman wished to be. Sure, they can pull him from the spot light, take away his team, hide him from the world but as long as Roman’s beliefs are the same and he has the will to keep going then the Dreamer is eternal. The problem is that Roman still lacks the self confidence to realize this. He believes that he is nothing but an over glorified child without his team. Once he realizes this is not the case… Well… Viva La Revolution!

We do see the beginning of these thoughts in the next para however. Roman is starting to question his team and his father. “Was this really what the Dreamer was? He’d tried too hard to keep the peace and catch the Utilitarianist when there were other things he could be doing. They’d told him to leave the crime fighting to the police. His image was the most powerful thing about him” (Whatwashernameagain). He is questioning everything which is good… Well, good in the long run; honestly for him, its no doubt terrifying.

But consider the fact that the one person that ignited the flame that pushed him to ask such question is the very person he is supposed to be rivaled with, the person he is supposed to allow to die. Logan. Roman is many things to the villain: his hope, his humanity, his source of emotion and irritation, his light. But Logan are certain things to the hero as well: his hope, his reality, his sense of questioning, his window into the social world… His proof that everything is no as black and white as he once believed, his chance at a relationship that isn’t riddled with abuse and deception. The irony behind this should not be overlooked. It is so beautiful.

Roman goes on to compare himself to Superman and Wonderwoman which I just adore! That is so very Roman! He points out that Superman couldn’t concern himself with petty thieves but Wonderwoman most certainly would. I love this for a number of reasons. Firstly, we already knew that Roman read comic books, but this really pulls the image of baby Roman sitting under the covers late at night with a flash light pouring over the pages of every type of comic (well at least DC comics). Secondly, despite the fact that Roman good up with such a heavy emphasis on society’s view of masculinity shoved down his throat one of the greatest heroes in his mind is Wonderwoman! I love it! I love it! I love it! The comicbook version of Wonderwoman is a fantastic role model for anyone! Much better than Superman in my opinion! I mean the writers themselves are fantastic! There is actually an entire scene in which Diane is seen nude during an issue and the writers never exploit this. Context: Diane sleeps in the nude. Someone wakes her and they talk while she takes her time dressing. That is it. It is not drawn in a way that sexualizes her or implies anything of the sort. It is simply written/drawn as nothing more than a person dressing and I really appreciate that… though I suppose I am getting off track.

We can also view the difference between implications of comparing himself between Superman and Wonderwoman and the Masculine and Feminine views both represent. Superman is no doubt the way his father would prefer him to aspire to be. Superman is perhaps the most masculine image one could manage to conjure. He is strong, indestructible, not concerned with trivial issues, uses his strength and power to win and always gets the girl. The image of a man. Wonderwoman however, is a bit different. She is strong and practically indestructible sure, but she goes about using her abilities a different way. Instead of fighting all the time or causing more destruction she tends to outsmart her opponents when she can and shows care and compassion to all creatures. Superman focuses on strength and durability; Wonderwoman focuses on skill, training, knowledge. She is not concerned with romance or power; she just wants good for the world; just as Roman does.

We also begin to see Roman work out some of the things we have mentioned, on his own. He begins to question why Logan would save him? Perhaps he questions if the man’s intentions may be better than he had originally given him credit for. He can’t seem to shake his concerns with his own work. The concerns lead him to question his team more and more:

“His doubts wouldn’t leave him alone until eventually, he chose to do what he was most afraid of. He went against the advice of his team.

He’d been sitting around for months, while the Utilitarianist had been busy attacking the Hong-Kong Stock market. Roman quietly wondered why he was never dispatched to other countries to help. His nemesis had stopped limiting himself to the States long ago” (Whatwashernameagain).

It is obvious that there are a few reasons why Roman’s team keeps him in America. Perhaps the most prominent reason is the fact that the people who control Roman are in America and make most of their money from his exploits there. There is no reason to help those over seas if there is no profit for it. Yet, Logan is not bound by these rules. Logan is attempting to save the world and to Roman his goal is to take down Logan. So, once again we see just how much Roman’s team is holding him back and the excuses they use to hide their real intentions (‘Perhaps his team was worried he’d upset someone by remarking that the conditions of those workers truly were less than glittery’ (Whatwashernameagain).).

A situation in Mexico is brought to our attention, Eva does a fantastic job (as usual) to describe the severity of the scene and a new character is introduced: Virgil!!! We see right away that Virgil is a little different than the rest of the team. As Roman’s new operator we he hacks into the bank’s database and gets Roman a floorplan (no doubt against the advisement of the rest of the team). This already sets him apart from the others. For the first time since Roman became the Dreamer we see someone finally working /with/ him rather than discarding his intentions and thoughts. Finally, we have someone to help our wonderful and beautiful boy! The best part is that might be the boost Roman needed! “This was the right thing to do, he felt it. He had to breathe new life into the idea of the Dreamer. He had to be a proper hero again” (Whatwashernameagain).

Of course, when he pitches the idea to his team he is immediately shot down, discarded like the child they saw him as. Only this time, things were handled a bit differently: “Instead of the usual, fatherly patience and kind amusement at his misplaced enthusiasm, he was told off curtly. Without results, Roman was losing their favor” (Whatwashernameagain). Roman has been acting more and more independently which implied that they were losing control of him as an asset and that no doubt caused some tension between his team and their higher ups which was no doubt taken out on Roman.

“Feeling unsteady, he shuffled onto the cold light of the corridor of their underground base. Despite his terror of losing the place he called home, the reporting about the children held hostage would not stop replaying in his head. He’d been told watching the news would only upset him and he should rather rely on the updates they cut together for him, but he was starting to think he would only have found out about the situation far too late when irritated reporters would have asked him where he was when the children were shot. He couldn’t let it come to that!” (Whatwashernameagain).

This para gives me life! This is a dawning of a new age! A new Dreamer! A new Roman! We start out with him defeated (not surprisingly); fearful on his thoughts because you know he’s thinking of going to Mexico anyways and that could cause him to lose his home. The catch is, this has never been his home; it has been the place he has been used and discarded but it is the only ‘home’ he’s ever really known. Sure, before he became the Dreamer he had a different ‘home’ but it is all the same thing. He was ignored unless useful there just as he is here. Still, if its all you’ve ever known, losing it would be terrifying…. Being alone in the world, with nothing to your name… it’s a horrible reality.

Still, he obviously is not letting this go. The news of the children being held hostage is something Roman can’t forget. This is not surprising at all. Roman is a sheltered person. He is not use to seeing such things on the news. In fact, the next sentence reminds us that the only information that he is aware of tends to be the information fed to him; to help control him. It is horrible. But it also causes him to be more sensitive to these kinds of things. I can’t remember if I brought this up before so I will do so again here. The majority of us that open ourselves up to television or social media become desensitized to it all.

For instance, the average 18-year old observes approximately 6,000 acts of violence on television and in movies in one year (Browne and Hamilton-Giachritsis 2005; Center for Research Excellence 2009). Desensitization has been studied primarily as a consequence of exposure to violent video games (e.g., Anderson et al. 2010; Carnagey et al. 2007), so less is known about desensitization to violence encountered in real life or on television and in movies. Despite the many commonalities between real-life and media violence and their effects on adjustment, these two types of exposure to violence rarely have been studied together. It has also been proven that the more desensitized to violence that we become the more violent we become in turn.

Of course, this is just a information about desensitization in regards to violence which includes things like the bank robbery, children being held hostage etc. Consider this: How many times have you scrolled through facebook or some other social media platform and saw a post about a missing person or a shooting or something similar? And how many times have you ignored it and continued to scroll? The truth is, the more you see it the more you ignore it. But what then? Well, then we’ve become part of the problem, haven’t we? By not helping we become the ignorance that is wrong with the world. So, next time you see one of those post… share, reblog… who knows maybe you’ll be that one person to get the word just far enough for them to be found/saved. Don’t let your desensitization get the better of you.

But once again I’m getting off track. My point was, for someone who is not expose to as much violence or horrific deeds as the typical American, something that we consider small (like a bank hold up) can be traumatizing; and poor sweet Roman has been sheltered from these things for some time. Sure, he has seen some really bad stuff but its all what they want him to see… all being fed to him… this… this is different.

Desensitization aside, this para is the stepping stone into Roman’s rebellion! We see him question his team, perhaps not for the first time but close to it: “he was starting to think he would only have found out about the situation far too late when irritated reporters would have asked him where he was when the children were shot” (Whatwashernameagain). Then we see him immediately rebuke them (at least mentally): “He couldn’t let it come to that!” (Whatwashernameagain). Roman is finally growing into his own. He is finally beginning to that that step and begin thinking for himself! This is character development!

Now, enter Virgil Stage Left! Virgil appears just when Roman needs a good kick in the but to get him moving, much like Remy did when Logan needed it as well. It is a good reminder that even when we are struggling whether with the outside world or with ourselves there come a point in time where we could do with a bit of companionship. Humans, after all, are social creatures.

The great thing about his appearance is that with his sense of sarcastic remarks Roman is immediately defensive, preparing to defend his ‘honor’ but we wee him pause as he notices Virgil’s disappointed posture. This is another small contrast between Roman and Logan that I love. Though we don’t actually see Logan reading people’s body language I get the feeling he would be very bad at it. He doesn’t exactly surround himself in situations in which it is required. Roman however, no doubt is trained to read other’s body languages. Yes, I mean formally trained though his emotional abuse has no doubt conditioned him to study it as well. A person who is used to being degraded or yelled out over analyzes every twitch, every smile, every shift of the eyes. Every movement is considered a countdown to the next time they will be abused, it is truly an anxious existence. This of course is just scratching the surface of the trauma Roman has been through but it is brought up in such a subtly beautiful way that really gives testament to Eva’s skill, as always.

The slump in Virgil’s shoulders no doubt screams at Roman just as most postures do. He is not a stranger to disappointment especially from his team. This time though he realizes its different. Virgil isn’t necessarily disappointed in what Roman has done but what he hasn’t done; which is quite heartwarming. Virgil is upset because Roman is not following through with his plan despite his team’s refusal. He /wants/ Roman to be who he is… Which may be the first time Roman has ever experienced such support. The first time someone has shown true untainted support for /him/ not what/who he is supposed to be for them. There comes a time during the cusp of every revolution that a straw breaks a back… A shot is fired…. War breaks out… Perhaps, Roman has finally found his straw in Virgil? Perhaps all he ever needed to begin his revolution was the support of a single person to be who he was.

““No. I’m not backing off. I’m taking a running start.” He’d promised, before striding down the corridor and grabbing a startled Virgil’s wrist on the way. He still needed that one.” (Whatwashernameagain). It seems like a beautiful partnership has begun. I have a feeling this dynamic duo is going to cause a lot of trouble for more than just Logan.

Eva also uses a comparison of Roman sneaking out of the facility to breaking out of prison; which I feel is a very good analogy. The facility is in fact a prison for Roman. He is not a free man in any sense of the word. Even his personality is held captive behind those walls. I also mentioned earlier that Roman’s father would never allow Roman to be free. Roman is too much of a liability. He knows to much. This is one of the many reasons why he is to be locked away until it is time for his media appearances. He is sheltered from the real world just like any prisoner, only allowed certain activities that limit his interaction with the public. He is monitored constantly. It is very fitting.

“The armed robbers were no match for the quiet, cat-like stride of the trained hero. He caught one after the other, knocking them out with ease. This was far simpler than fighting a man like the Utilitarianist” (Whatwashernameagain).

‘Cat-like’? You mean like a certain villain that purr-fers to wear the mask of a feline? Speaking of which, it seems that Roman can’t get the man off his mind even when he’s in the middle of another dangerous mission… and does that almost sound like… admiration?

The next scene shows Roman being as heroic as ever as he carries out a pregnant woman and other out of the building and I have to say Roman+children=my heart exploding. Its just so pure and wonderful and the way she just tugs at his costume just makes me weak.

“Roman barely managed to calm them. He hadn’t been greeted with such honest joy in so long, he was utterly baffled by their adoration. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was thick with emotion.

“Fellow citizens of the world, I have realized that the time for borders is behind us! In these frightening times we must understand that our differences are mere illusions, stand together and give each other hope. Our love and belief in each other shall prevail over evil!”” (Whatwashernameagain).

Roman just made a seriously hard move. Roman is faced with real genuine joy and appreciation; something he probably has never experienced. His team probably pulls him away from situation where he would get the chance to; of course, they would to simply avoid him saying something that wasn’t scripted. This is probably the moment that he realizes that though his team treats his opinions and intentions as bothersome the public sees them as he does: a chance to change the world.

We also get to see Roman take that final step over the edge of the cliff that he has been teetering on for some time now. We see him finally choose to step out into the nothingness where he expects to plummet to his doom; everything that he has worked for stripped away from him. But as he speaks to the world, as he watches their reaction, we don’t see him fall; we see him fly! And because of this, and the elated reaction of his new partner-in-crime we see him swell with pride.

“Finally, he was what he was supposed to be.” (Whatwashernameagain).

This line… This beautiful stunning line says everything that we knew but it also says more. It says that Roman has shed his father and team’s control on him. He has cast aside the image they are painting of him and breaking out into his own. Shots have been fired and there will no doubt be a fallout but for now… It is official, the revolution has begun!!!

“The atmosphere in the underground compound changed. Roman felt the shift, the tension around himself clearly and suffered it with disappointment. It was like being home again. A child whose childishness was barely tolerated. Quiet and shy and feeling unwanted” (Whatwashernameagain).

This reinforces the image Eva has been painting of Roman’s childhood. He compares the new temperament of the compound to his childhood home and the abuse he experienced there. It is the same disappointment, worthless undesirable feeling that his father had caused him to feel for so long. This no doubt would cause the man to be triggered. The only question that remains is, is he strong enough to move past it?

“Despite the repeated attempts to impress the importance of following his team’s directions, he planned and executed more mission with Virgil. He was his one saving grace. Since he was actually starting to make a difference, the two men felt more at ease with each other. Though they were mostly bickering with each other, Roman had found someone to rely on. His fluttering nerves around the moody man calmed, allowing him to fall back on the safety of the Dreamer’s personality less and less. They were a team of two now, instead of the pride of the Conglomerate. It was alright. He was one more person than Roman used to have” (Whatwashernameagain).

Roman is making leaps and bounds in his warpath (I use warpath as a metaphor, this is a revolution afterall). He has taught himself that a single man’s genuine acceptance and affection (not to mention affirmation) is far more valuable than the faux appreciation of a crowd of individuals and this is partially due to Virgil’s support. Now, the two of them argue and fuss but let’s face it between Virgil and Logan this is the only form of true affection Roman has ever experienced. It is only logical that Roman now associates the bickering and affection. The coldness his father shows him, the lack of attention at all has been pounded into him over the years making something as simple as the attention enough to argue with him far more heartwarming than it should be. In fact, the arguments and the moodiness of Virgil seems to calm Roman as he interprets it to be a platonic sense of caring that comes with the smaller man. This will no doubt reinforce his attraction to Logan later as well.

Logan was once considered cold just as Roman’s father, perhaps reminding the hero of the man he aspired to be loved by which no doubt drew him in in the first place. Yet, as they grew closer and Logan began to show the attention Roman longed for, though their arguments and even care when Logan returned the favor of saving his life. With Roman’s interpretations as they are now it is no wonder that he would turn to the man that has shown him more affection than anyone else in the world when he is finally broken and bruised.

Over the next few paragraphs we see Roman surprisingly taking the bait that the Utilitarianist had laid out for the world, working unintentionally, with Logan. We also see his team step up just about the time they are able to profit from it (surprise, surprise). Of course, poor innocent Roman misinterprets this as support, but it is not necessarily a bad thing; at least not yet.

Naturally, as soon as the team steps back in Roman reverts to his old habits; becoming discouraged, calling himself an idiot and generally being self-deprecating. He then resolves to listen to his team more carefully and follow their advice once more. Honestly though, I love the contrast between the team and Virgil. They are like two sides of Roman’s subconscious…. Almost like those angels and devils that pop up on each shoulder in the cartoons. On one hand, Roman’s team pulls him back to his father where his self-conscious and cautious. While, on the other hand, Virgil pulls him towards the light where he is proud and triumphant, confident and bright. The issue is, if he continues to stand in the middle being pulled in two different directions, he may be ripped in two… and if that happens it is possible, he wont be able to be put back together again.

Also: “Roman had sworn to himself to help him feel more accepted in the team. He’d never wanted anyone to feel as isolated as he had most of his life” (Whatwashernameagain). It is possible that Roman is so adamant about Virgil feeling accepted by the team because he knows exactly how it feels to be isolated and alone. He knows how it feels to be cast aside and be considered worthless or idiotic. He knows how horrible it can make you feel, and he wants to make sure that no one feels that way especially someone he cares so deeply for like Virgil.

The next para moves on to talk about the Utilitarianist and the LGBTQ+ community and honestly the imagery is lovely! Of course, Logan would be an icon for the gay community. The Utilitarianist is known for his radical beliefs that stir huge movements around the globe. It wasn’t that long again that the simple act of two men kiss was considered just that: radical. I won’t pretend to know a lot about the social movement; I don’t. I may be LGBTQ+ but I was never a big part of the community until recently. I grew up in small towns. I didn’t even meet someone like myself until high school… So, I’m still a bit lacking in a lot of information that could be gained through that social outlet (I’m serious, a friend of me had to explain a lot of terminology when I first moved into the city… I may not have had physical flash cards like Logan’s but I def had mental ones). Still, I know enough about Gender Studies in literature to help support my argument here.

So, for those of you that don’t know what Gender Studies is; it is a literary theory that is devoted to analyzing gender identity and representation (including but not limited to women, feminism, gender, politics, men’s studies, and queer studies; often combined with the study of sexuality (“Gender Studies”). Why do I consider Gender Studies as ‘radical’? Consider this: Doctoral programs for women’s studies has existed since 1990 (Joschik, Scott). The Women’s Rights movement earned them the right to vote in 1920 and they were considered radical and despite their achievements studying literature that was written by women or had strong independent female characters was not considered an acceptable enough form of study to take a doctoral program (not even a degree) in until 1990! That is radical! What is worse, is the first doctoral program for a ‘potential’ PhD in Gender Studies in the U.S. wasn’t approved until 2005 (Joschik, Scott)! And it wasn’t until 2015 that Kabul University in Afghanistan (Afghanistan!!! Not the U.S. which is full of idiotic bigotry!) was the first to offer a master’s degree course in gender and women’s studies (FaithWorld)! It almost makes me ashamed to live here. In a world where two women pushing a baby stroller in the background of a Disney movie is cause for outrage, I’d say the LGBTQ+ community is ‘radical’… at least in the eyes of America. So, it is no wonder that the Utilitarianist is an icon for them especially after his rescue.

(Sorry for the rant)

Moving on!

“Because Roman had saved him and because he’d now acted on his behalf, following his direct call for action, a lot of people had started imagining them to be more than they were. They were publicly ‘shipping’ them.

Roman had been beyond horrified and humiliated as his sympathetic team had put together a dossier of the things people on the internet thought he’d do” (Whatwashernameagain).

Okay, there are so many things wrong with this. Not Eva’s writing of course, she is always so talented! No, everything that I consider ‘wrong’ is meant to be so.

Firstly, though there are plenty of people that will disagree with me and I respect that, shipping (even if its real people) is fine: Forcing your ship or view point on another or insulting their tastes or hating on them for it etc etc. Is very very wrong and I try not to judge but I’m pretty judgy about this. Hate asks/messages/notes/WHATEVER is horrible and though you may not be a horrible person if you do these things, you’re pretty darn close in my opinion. Everyone has their tastes: Some people like apples, some people don’t. If we were all the same we would never advance as a species.

I am not claiming Eva is hating on anyone. How could she be? She is legit writing about her own subject matter lol I really like the irony of it actually… Its almost like breaking the fourth wall without breaking the fourth wall. But I’m getting off topic again.

Here we see Roman’s team taking an extreme to try and pull him back by the reigns. The know he doesn’t receive any other content than what they feed him and their going to use this to their advantage. So, the decide to use the most angsty, kinkiest parts of the fandom’s ships and expose them to the poor sheltered and innocent man. Imagine if we had never heard of tumblr and then were suddenly shoved into the deepest darkest pits… Sure exposure therapy is known to work but I’d be pretty repulsed by it too. Luckily most of us managed to dip our toes in first and move away from the shallows one step at a time here on tumblr so we didn’t have to go through what poor Ro-Ro is. Now, its common knowledge that we’re all a little demented. Lol XP

“He’d been unable to keep looking at the pictures and horrible, humiliating stories published for all to see. How could he allow this to happen? This was what people saw in him after he’d allowed himself to be experimented on, cut apart and be put back together and worked so hard to give them something to believe in?” (Whatwashernameagain).

Let’s pick this apart a bit, shall we? Why would Roman really be this horrified? Sure, he was sheltered and then suddenly exposed to it but it’s a bit more than that. Here is a man that is supposed to hold up ‘American Values’ and be the image of masculinity. That is what his father wants him to be, that is what he has suffered to become. He is supposed to be the strongest person out there and yet he is being depicted in such compromising positions… In positions of submission, of servitude. He has no idea that that kind of position can be a symbol of trust and freedom because he is not taught to believe this. He does not know what a healthy relationship is.

Then there is also the symbolism of it all. Roman is the hero; he is the light; he is the good. Logan is the villain, the shadows, the evil in the world. These images show the good bowing to the bad. They show Roman losing. Losing the one thing he has suffered and fought for, for so long. They show him the possible failure he is so terrified of. To Roman, these images hold one of his worst fears. /That/ is why Roman is so disturbed by them.

We can also view this another way. Roman is taught that the only way he will win against the evil in the world is through the public’s support. He relies of the world to boost him, to come together in unity. He believes that with their help he is invincible. Yet, the public is the one who created these stories and art. The public is the one the imagined his failure. Roman is fueled by hope and faith and yet these images could be taken as a loss of those things. These images represent the publics loss of faith and hope in Roman… At least, that is one possible view point of the man. Either way, it is devastating.

*******

I would like to add here that @mariniacipher has added some input here that explains this in more depth and is beautifully done. I asked permission to quote them here and they have consented:

“Honestly, I have just one thought like, about your analysis of the line "The Utilitarianist would see it and think-"

I think there's a bit more behind this, and that Roman's team had a deeper reason to show roman that art: Because roman is, to them- as far as we know- a naive boy-turned-tool, and he's already strayed from their commands twice. Once to save the kids in Mexico. This could be seen as him following Logan's agenda in some way. He's definitely seeing all people as equal, instead of following his team's "America First" mindset, which is already risky to them. And then, the second time he "deviates", he directly follows Logan's intel as well as his call to action. Add to that the Logince interactions you already pointed out, their respect to each other in those arguments, and they've got a genuine risk of roman completely leaving their range of influence, in their minds at least. Which brings us to them showing roman the unsavory pieces of art of himself and Logan. You already pointed out a lot here, but I think it also served to pervert the beginnings of the relationship between roman and Logan.

Before, they both just wanted to defeat one another, but also both wanted to help the world. Now, Roman's team is turning this dynamic in something altogether different, or trying to: it turns it sexual, and into a power play/fight. They present Logan not as a person who just wants to defeat roman, but beat him, humiliate and hurt him- because that way, they destroy even the thought of roman defecting, or escaping their influence, because there's no one to run to.In my opinion, they only want roman to have the team, and no one else- showing logan in the role of- to roman- a pervert and even a rapist serves to keep roman isolated and loyal.”

@mariniacipher makes some very valid points here, all of which I agree with. They also provide a great example of how Reader Response is suppose to work in the sense that every reader experiences a work differently and they see these things slightly different. This truly made my day.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming...

******

Once again, the devil on his shoulder has struck… But where is the angel in purple? Knocking on his door, just in time to save the day!

““Hey. Um, so I saw the dossier.”

Roman groaned, hiding his burning face. He’d never even looked at porn, so seeing himself pictured on his knees, the villain’s hand in his hair, about to- oh god. This was out there. The Utilitarianist would see it and think- irrational fear of things he hadn’t ever considered the other capable of mixed with the humiliation and made Roman tremble” (Whatwashernameagain).

First off, ‘He’d never even looked at porn’… Christ on a cracker, Roman you truly are sheltered you poor poor baby… Though that does beg the question if he is even too modest to…. You know what… Never mind. Lets move on… This is an analysis not a fanfic after all…

‘The Utilitarianist would see it and think-‘ OMG Roman I love you! Even when you’re horrified and shamed the only person you can concern yourself with is Logan?! This is fantastic! We see just where Logan stands now. Before, the person Roman would probably concern himself with is his father. That’s not the case now though. Logan has become more of a priority than dear old Dad and with good reason. In fact, Roman’s father hasn’t been mentioned in some time which gives us a sense of visual in Roman’s mental shift. Our baby is growing. -sniffle- I’m so proud.

Virgil of course, tries to explain to Roman that it is not what he thinks. Roman then states that he believes Virgil thinks him not smart enough to understand and my anxious son puts him in his place as he should! Virgil has no shits to give!

“You’re much smarter than they make you believe! They just want you to stop thinking for yourself!” A frustrated growl escaped Virgil. Pulling uselessly on the powerful man’s shoulder, he tried to get him to look up” (Whatwashernameagain).

He calls the team out on their shit! He explains that Roman is only seeing the kinky stuff and goes on to explain what shipping is really about… Which makes me wonder if the man ships them as well… I wouldn’t put it past him the little angel.

“”It’s about liking two people and rooting for them, despite any opposition. People just care about both of you, even if you’re on different sides. It just shows that most of them aren’t as black and white as they all say. They aren’t the perfect, traditional families on the cereal boxes and they aren’t the masked activists throwing Molotov cocktails either. They’re just people who like some of both of your positions and they like you and him and what they like most is the idea of you two burying this feud and stop fighting. They want what you want, when it comes down to it, dude. For the arguing to end and people to just get along. I’m not making this up, look!”” (Whatwashernameagain).

This is really beautiful, and I feel privileged to be able to read it. Eva gets it, she really does. There are a few sentences here that I really want to point out though. For example, ‘It just shows that most of them aren’t as black and white as they all say’. Virgil is referring to the fact that most people aren’t just good or evil. The majority of people have done good things and they had done bad things… That is human nature. Everyone has regrets. Roman lives in a state in which he is required to see things in black and white, but the world doesn’t work like that. Very few things are so cut and dry. Virgil see this and he sees that Roman doesn’t. At this point Virgil has moved from shoulder angel to practically Roman’s conscious. He truly is a wonderful friend.

Roman, no doubt, doesn’t really stop to consider people in their daily lives. To him its always the people in the most dire of situation that he focuses on. I doubt he’d know how to handle someone if they just past him on the street. Of course, he is trained to think like this… He knows that he is trying to protect people’s way of life but never stops to consider the way they live their life.

‘They’re just people who like some of both of your positions and they like you and him and what they like most is the idea of you two burying this feud and stop fighting’. This feels like more foreshadowing but I’m going to bypass that because we’ve already discussed it. But it is a fantastic representation of both Logan and Roman and a reminder that nothing is black and white just as I mentioned previously. Logan is a good man doing bad things for good reasons and Roman is a good man doing good things for bad reasons. The Dreamer is an apt name… Roman’s ideas of good and evil are so fantastic they deserve to be in a dream. Luckily, Virgil is there to help guide him back to reality (once again pulling on the comparison between Remy and Virgil).

The next few paras are filled with such wholesome and beautiful images and art work that you really need to go re-read it (if you haven’t already. Its just so warm hearted and I love it. Also, I can’t draw so if someone wants to work up some art on the image Roman describes about the glitter in his hair and the dipping Logan I will gladly share it EVERYWHERE!!!! (just link it to me K?)

Also, the argument with the wall of pictures and Roman’s wall of postcards and pinatas gives me life…. My chest aches with it. I can also really appreciate that Eva describes the works of the two arguing so often. Obviously, this would be understandable because the two are on opposite sides but also Roman’s association with affection /is/ arguments which no doubt only reinforces Virgil’s point that these are wholesome and good when Roman sees the two of them arguing. I just love it so much.

There are so many that Eva lists…. …. …. Honest opinion: At this point, she’s just indulging herself… I approve whole heartedly LOL XP.

It is also possible that these are real fan arts of Logan and Roman and though I don’t have the time to look them up at the moment you bet your sweet IQ that I will be after I get this posted!

In all of these images there is one striking similarity that I must point out: Roman and Logan are depicted as EQUALS. Why is this important? Roman had never been treated as an equal by anyone until he met Logan and Logan began to take the time to argue with him, treating him as if he were worth changing his mind. His father doesn’t even bother with that (yes, I know that I’ve already covered this). The point being, it is very important for Roman to feel valued and equaled, that is one of the reasons why the images provided by his team were so disturbing and that is also one of the reasons why these images are so inspirational to him.

““I don’t understand.” He muttered, glancing at his own tablet, filled with data carefully compiled for him.

Virgil’s gaze was worried.

“I guess there are things they’d rather you don’t see, for whatever reasons. Maybe you’ll let me double check the info they give you from now on, man. I get unrestricted internet.”

“Oh. I didn’t know the internet here was restricted.” Roman muttered softly. His head was buzzing. He huddled closer to Virgil, gazing at the images without really seeing them. He felt like everything he knew was shaken in its foundations” (Whatwashernameagain).

Virgil my sweet sweet baby boy, you’ve done it! You’ve finally gave Roman the realization that he needed! Finally, Roman’s eyes are open to just how manipulative his team is and how damaging that can be. Finally, he is seeing what is going on! Now all that’s left is to win the revolution and kick them to the curb!

This is not going to be easy of course. Everything Roman believes and everything he thinks he knows has been affected. His trust has been shaken. Whatever road Roman is about to walk down, it is not going to be easy for the poor man.

******

I apologize for Part 4 being so long, but I’ve limited myself to 4 parts per chapter and it has been quite difficult.

As always, I want to thank Eva for writing so beautifully and being so supportive of my ramblings.

I would also like to remind everyone that I don’t proof read these because I am surprisingly lazy when it comes to my own work.

I also LOVE hearing from you guys so plz plz plz drop me an ask or a message if you feel up for it. I promise I don’t bite unless you ask me to. <3 I also love questions and theories so hit me up with those too!

Be sure to leave Eva some love on AO3 and tumblr as well! She is incredibly nice and always fun to talk to! Also, if you haven’t already read her other work (like KHS) I highly recommend it.

For now, I will be waiting with bated breath with the rest of you for The Dreamer Chapter 3! ^.^ Until then, I hope to see you all around! <3

“Abstract Search.” Full Abstract, https://abstracts.societyforscience.org/Home/FullAbstract?AllAbstracts=True&Category=Any+Category&FairCountry=Any+Country&FairState=Any+State&ProjectId=4987.Pocket-lint.

Anderson CA, Shibuya A, Ihori N, Swing EL, Bushman BJ, Sakamoto A, Rothstein HR, Saleem M. Violent video game effects on aggression, empathy, and prosocial behavior in eastern and western countries: A meta-analytic review. Psychological Bulletin. 2010;136:151–173.

Browne KD, Hamilton-Giachritsis C. The influence of violent media on children and adolescents: A public-health approach. The Lancet. 2005;365:702–710.

Carnagey NL, Anderson CA, Bushman BJ. The effect of video game violence on physiological desensitization to real-life violence. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology. 2007;43:489–496.

Center for Research Excellence Video consumer mapping survey. 2009 Retrieved from Center for Research Excellence web site: http://www.researchexcellence.com/research/research.php.

FaithWorld (26 October 2015). "Kabul University unlikely host for first Afghan women's studies programme". Blogs.reuters.com. Retrieved 2 November 2015.

"Gender Studies". Whitman College. https://archive.is/20121212181127/http://www.whitman.edu/content/genderstudies

Jaschik, Scott (10 November 2005). "Indiana Creates First Gender Studies PhD". The last decade has seen the number of women's studies PhD programs grow to at least 10 – most of them relatively new. Last week, Indiana University's board approved the creation of a program that will be both similar and different from those 10: the first doctoral program in the United States exclusively in gender studies.

Pharmacy Times, https://www.pharmacytimes.com/news/do-poisonous-mushrooms-have-a-pharmaceutical-purpose.

Rivkin, Julie. Literary Theory: a Practical Introduction. Wiley-Blackwell, 2017.

Whatwashernameagain. “The Dreamer - Chapter 2.” Hello Guys Gals And Non Binary Friends, 8 Sept. 2019, https://whatwashernameagain.tumblr.com/post/189407228487/the-dreamer-chapter-2?is_related_post=1.

#the dreamer #villain!logan #hero!roman #sanders sides #sanderssides #sandersides #sander sides #logince #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan/roman #roman/logan #analysis #reaction #fanfiction #whatwashernameagain

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imaginationstimulation · 4 years

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Highlighted Excerpts from Miranda July’s “The First Bad Man” 5 STARS, absolutely loved this book, it literally changed my life.

The NPR book review:

This cataloging of unglamorous inner life could be grotesque (and sometimes is) but there is something hugely generous about it. Writing about sex is a particular skill of July's — it is beautiful but real, not rapturous or misty or scene-lit.

Her humor comes from a careful literalness: a dragging out of the truth, and placing it in startling juxtaposition with the surface of things.

Quotes and highlights below. Expand to read.

YOUR KINDLE NOTES FOR: The First Bad Man: A Novel

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 7

“When in doubt, give a shout!” “Excuse me?” “I’m here for you. When in doubt, just give me a shout.” What silence. Giant domed cathedrals never held so much emptiness. He cleared his throat. It echoed, bouncing around the dome, startling pigeons. “Cheryl?” “Yes?” “I think I should go.” I didn’t say anything. He would have to step over my dead body to get off the phone. “Goodbye,” he said, and then, after a pause, he hung up.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 19

Once Carl had called me ginjo, which I thought meant “sister” until he told me it’s Japanese for a man, usually an elderly man, who lives in isolation while he keeps the fire burning for the whole village. “In the old myths he burns his clothes and then his bones to keep it going,” Carl said. I made myself very still so he would continue; I love to be described.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 22

As I walked to the door the map of the world detached from the wall and slid noisily to the floor. Not necessarily an indicator of anything.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 28

He was nervous—men are always sure they’ll be accused of some horrific crime after they talk about feelings.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 40

“Does it feel like we’ve known each other for longer than we really have?” “Kind of.” I could tell him or I could not tell him. I decided to tell him. “Maybe there’s a reason for that,” I ventured. “Okay.” He blew his nose again. “Do you know what it is?” “Give me a hint.” “A hint. Let’s see . . . actually, I can’t. There are no little parts to it, it’s all big.” I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. “I see a rocky tundra and a crouched figure with apelike features who resembles me. She’s fashioned a pouch out of animal gut and now she’s giving it to her mate, a strong, hairy pre-man who looks a lot like you. He moves his thick finger around in the pouch and fishes out a colorful rock. Her gift to him. Do you see where I’m going?” “Kind of? In that I see you’re talking about cavemen who look like us.” “Who are us.”

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 43

“She’s big-boned,” I said. “A lot of men think that’s attractive.” “Sure, a woman with that kind of body has a fat store that allows her to make milk for her young even if her husband isn’t able to bring meat home. I feel confident about my ability to bring meat home.” The words milk and fat store and meat had fogged up the windows faster than leaner words would have. We were in a sort of creamy cloud.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 44

“You’re the female me.” My heart started swooping around, like it was hanging on a long rope.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 45

I must have sat across from him at a hundred meetings of the board, but I had never let myself really study his face. It was like knowing what the moon looks like without ever stopping to find the man in it.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 47

His hand had a heat and weight that only real hands do. A hundred imaginary hands would never be this warm.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 53

This was probably the sign of a good therapist, seeming familiar to everyone.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 59

At the Ethiopian restaurant I requested a fork. They explained that I had to use my hands, so I asked for it to go, got a fork at Starbucks, and sat in my car. But my throat wouldn’t accept even this very soft meal. I put it on the curb for a homeless person. An Ethiopian homeless person would be especially delighted. What a heartbreaking thought, encountering your native food in this way.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 64

Our relationship is much more powerful and moving to me if we don’t compact our energy into our genitals.”

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 67

It’s one of those things that seems like a drag at first and then becomes second nature, until not doing it feels rude, almost aggressive.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 70

Suddenly it occurred to me that nothing might be happening. I’d done that before. I had added meaningful layers to things that were meaningless many, many times before.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 72

We’d been prehistoric together, medieval, king and queen—now we were this. It was all part of the answer to his question What keeps us coming back? He wasn’t done with me, and I wasn’t done with him.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 80

When she shoved me against my own desk I head-butted her and everyone else who wasn’t capable of understanding how nuanced I was.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 81

My eyes fell on the gray linoleum floor and I wondered how many other women had sat on this toilet and stared at this floor. Each of them the center of their own world, all of them yearning for someone to put their love into so they could see their love, see that they had it.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 82

I ate a pastry made out of white flour and refined sugar and watched the couple next to me feed each other bites of omelet. It was hard to believe they played adult games but most likely they did, probably with their coworkers or relatives. What were other people’s like? Perhaps some mothers and fathers pretended to be their children’s children and made messes. Or a widow might sometimes become her own deceased husband and demand retribution from everyone. It was all very personal; nobody’s game made any sense to anyone else. I watched seemingly dull men and women zooming past in cars. I doubted they all had written contracts like Ruth-Anne, but some did. Some probably had multiple contracts. Some contracts had been voided or transferred. People were having a good time out here, me included.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 83

This is nothing. We’ve seen fire and we’ve seen rain, I’d reply, quoting the song.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 85

Before every raw impulse there was a pause—I saw us through the homeless gardener’s eyes and felt obscene. Being outside society, he didn’t know about adult games; he was like me before I met Ruth-Anne, thinking everything that happened in life was real.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 90

Any two foes can fight in anger, but this was something rare. I was reminded of the Christmas Day soccer game between enemies in World War I or II. She still repulsed me, I’d still shoot her in battle the next day, but until dawn we’d play this game.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 92

Laughing like friends always emphasized that we weren’t. This wasn’t real like the laughing she did at home.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 92

“So what if it’s real for her?” she said, suddenly dropping her hands. “Real comes and goes and isn’t very interesting.”

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 103

The noise shook everything out of my head. What a magical way to get around. I’d always thought of these types of machines as toys for uneducated people who didn’t care about the environment, but maybe they weren’t. Maybe this was a kind of meditation. I felt connected to everything and the motor volume held me at a level of alertness I wasn’t used to. I kept waking up and then waking up from that, and then waking up even more. Was everything redneck actually mystical?

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 113

HER COWLIKE VACUOUSNESS DIDN’T REALLY bother me anymore. Or it didn’t matter—her personality was just a little piece of parsley decorating warm tawny haunches.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 114

She furrowed her brow and looked at the V my fingers were making. I had no idea what I was doing.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 120

It wasn’t really an appropriate card for a young girl; a group of rough-looking birds in rakish hats were playing cards with cigars in their beaks. It said something I can’t remember, but on the inside was a phrase like a virus or a self-replicating parasite waiting for a host. When I opened the card it flew out, gripping my brain with merciless talons: “Birds of a feather flock together.” It couldn’t be said just once, only repeated and repeated and repeated.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 123

It sort of worked. It wasn’t like saying abracadabra to make a rabbit disappear, poof. It was like saying abracadabra billions of times, saying it for years, until the rabbit died of old age, and then continuing to say it until the rabbit had completely decomposed and been absorbed into the earth, poof.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 125

Of course the point of being on the board was to be near him, but taking his place was interesting too. Almost better. For the first time I understood cigars and the urge to light one up and lean back.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 128

She looked utterly betrayed, as betrayed as the most betrayed person in Shakespeare.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 130

A cool breeze moved past and I knew how nice that must feel on his sweaty face, but that was all. I didn’t know how anything else would feel to him.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 131

We listened to the squeals change as the animal approached death; the pitch had entered the human register, every exertion contained a familiar vowel. If words began to form then I would go out there and break it up. Words, even crudely formed ones, would change the game entirely.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 145

“Do you really think it’s necessary?” “Necessary? No. All that’s necessary is that you eat enough to survive. Highlight (Yellow) | Page 147

I could see it so clearly, the zygote—shiny and bulbous, filled with the electric memory of being two but now damned with the eternal loneliness of being just one.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 148

All these years I’d been looking for a friend, but Suzanne didn’t need a friend. A rival, though—that got her attention.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 148

When the meeting adjourned we both went to the staff kitchen and made cups of tea in silence. I waited for her to begin the conversation. I sipped. She sipped. After a while I realized this was the conversation; we were having it.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 151

But eventually she wanted it more than he did, and this made her lower than him. There was no way to knock down a woman who was already lying on the ground.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 152

He walked to the elevator. He pressed the button and we both listened, my therapist and I, and waited for this part to be over—the part where he had already left but was still with us.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 164

“This is the worst you’ll ever feel.” “Ever?” “Well, maybe not ever in your whole life. We don’t know how you’re going to die—that might be worse.” I had veered off course. I put my face right in front of hers. “You can do this,” I said.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 169

A bag of blood was rushed in; it was from San Diego. I’d been to the zoo there once. I imagined the blood being pulled out of a muscled zebra. This was good—humans were always withering away from heartbreak and pneumonia, animal blood would be much tougher, live, live, live.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 176

Her braids lay on her chest and she looked leaden with sorrow, like a picture from the Dust Bowl. You just knew her whole life was going to be hard, every second of it.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 179

After a long time, ten or fifteen minutes, the kissing slowed. There were a series of closing kisses, goodbye kisses, kisses placed like lids on boxes—then the lid would pop off and need to be replaced. There, this is the final kiss—no, this is the final kiss. This one is, it really is. And now I’m just kissing that kiss good night.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 180

Soft was the wrong word. Satiny? Supple? A new word, I would come up with it right now—which letters would I use? S, for sure. Maybe an O. Was this how words were made? How would I announce the word? Who would I contact about that?

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 181

followed the doctor across the room. I yearned for a lawyer and the right to make a phone call. But those rights were for arrested people. We got nothing. Whatever he told me would be the new reality and we’d just have to accept

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 183

They belonged here, both of them equally, as did the nurses and the doctors and Clee. None of them recognized the interloper among them, but they would soon. I’d gotten swept up in the drama of the situation and mistakenly involved myself.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 183

Almost! I said. There was no good way to be, so I was being cavalier, lancing my own heart. We came pretty close. See you next time!

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 184

The last of her crying came out in a clotted sigh after the first kiss.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 184

We began a series of impatiently off-center ones, as if we were too hurried to land them properly; then our mouths became fingertips, moving blindly over the bumps and hollows of each feature.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 185

It was like a dream, where the most unlikely person can’t get enough of you—a movie star or someone’s husband. How can this be? But the attraction is mutual and undeniable; it is the reason for itself. And like a surprise on the moon or a surprise on the battlefield, astonishment was native to these parts.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 186

They were terrible people, even slightly worse than most.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 186

Should I introduce myself or try to kill them? Not violently, just enough that they wouldn’t exist.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 200

Was I like honey thinking it’s a small bear, not realizing the bear is just the shape of its bottle?

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 201

WOKE WITH A START like a passenger on an airplane—for a moment I could feel how high I was and had an appropriate terror of falling.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 202

A howl was curdling inside me; the ache felt inhuman. Or maybe this was my first human feeling.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 203

Anyone who questions what satisfaction can be gained from a not-so-bright girlfriend half one’s age has never had one. It just feels good all over. It’s like wearing something beautiful and eating something delicious at the same time, all the time.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 209

“Can the writing be a little more fun?” she said. “You mean a different font?” “Maybe.” I put everything in chubby cartoon letters as a joke. “That looks good,” she said. She was right. The cartoon letters had a love of life in them, and wasn’t that what we were celebrating here?

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 212

Suzanne fired him on the spot—her face shaking with regret about things she had not nipped while they were still in the bud.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 213

Clee held me from behind and our bodies interlocked like two Ss. “Not many people could do this,” I said, squeezing her arms. “Everyone does this.” “But not fitting together so perfectly the way we do.” “Any two people can do it.”

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 217

I didn’t bathe him because I was too afraid he would slip out of my hands or his belly button would open. Then one night I woke at three A.M. certain he was rotting like a chicken carcass. Only as I lowered him into the sink did I realize this was a crazy time to wash a baby and I began to cry because he was so trusting—I could do anything and he would go along with it, the little fool.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 218

Clee asked if he could see in the dark like a cat and I said yes. Later I caught my mistake but it was five A.M. and she was asleep. The next day I forgot. Each day I forgot to tell her he couldn’t see in the dark like a cat and each night I remembered, with increasing urgency. What if this continued for years and I never told her? My body was so tired that it often floated next to me or above me, and I had to reel it in like a kite. Finally one night I wrote “He can’t see in the dark” on a slip of paper and put it by her sleeping face. “What’s this?” Clee asked the next day, holding the slip. “Oh, thank God, yes. Jack can’t see in the dark like a cat.” “I know.” Suddenly I was unsure how this had begun. Maybe she had never asked. I dropped the subject with dark thoughts about my own mind.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 220

But as the sun rose I crested the mountain of my self-pity and remembered I was always going to die at the end of this life anyway.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 220

If you were wise enough to know that this life would consist mostly of letting go of things you wanted, then why not get good at the letting go, rather than the trying to have?

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 220

I began to understand that the sleeplessness and vigilance and constant feedings were a form of brainwashing, a process by which my old self was being molded, slowly but with a steady force, into a new shape: a mother. It hurt. I tried to be conscious while it happened, like watching my own surgery. I hoped to retain a tiny corner of the old me, just enough to warn other women with. But I knew this was unlikely; when the process was complete I wouldn’t have anything left to complain with, it wouldn’t hurt anymore, I wouldn’t remember.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 228

After smiling came laughing, then rolling over. The days and nights began to unwarp; three A.M. became an ordinary time. The first few months were hard for all new parents, a test, really—and we had passed!

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 231

For the first time in my life I understood TV, why everyone watched it. It helped. Not in the long run, of course, but minute by minute.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 232

what it felt like to be a mother, to be terrifyingly in love without the option of getting off.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 234

It must happen all the time, a fleeting passion overwhelms someone’s true course and there’s nothing to be done about it.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 236

one lone voice in an infinite cathedral, climbing and echoing and praising. The singer was lifted up and illuminated with gratitude, not for any one thing, but for the whole of this life, even for the agony.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 242

Rainbows are alone; they’re the only thing like that. The crystal began to wind the other way, sending the bright fleet back across his body. I could tell he didn’t believe me; it did seem unlikely. I racked my brain for others of the species. Reflections, shadows, smoke—these things were morose and distant cousins at best.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 247

I cleared my throat. “I love you.” His head shook with surprise. My voice was low and formal; I sounded like a wooden father from the 1800s. I continued. “You are a sweet potato.” This sounded literal, as if I was letting him know he was a root vegetable, a tuber. “You’re a baby,” I added, just in case there was any confusion on that last point.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 252

we had only spent a few hours a day in the NICU with him. That wasn’t enough. It was enough for us at the time, but now it haunted me. Twenty hours a day he’d lain there alone. There would be other unpardonable crimes, I could feel them coming—things that in retrospect would become my greatest regrets.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 254

Ruth-Anne, I would say, can we put the past behind us? Better not to phrase it as a question. The past is behind us. That was good. Who could argue with that?

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 256

It was like being accused of a crime committed in a dream.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 257

As she looked up at him her whole bearing shifted; she became luminous. Not with the light of life, but like a husk lit electrically from within.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 258

Just his name on a piece of paper could set her off. Even a word like Broyard—barnyard, backyard—sent her into an exhausted loop of fantasies. Everything else in her life, including her own therapy practice, was faked. The spell consumed 95 percent of her energy but she was surprised to see that no one noticed; the wafer-thin 5 percent version of her sufficed.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 259

Something strange was happening with Ruth-Anne. It didn’t seem good.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 263

Each word he said was boring, but collectively the melody of them lulled me.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 263

I tried to resist, but just the weight of him, in pounds and ounces, was a relief. Always being the heaviest person in the house had been exhausting.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 266

“Of course I’m here for you,” I said. It was a relief; being angry at him was hard work.

Highlight (Yellow) | Page 270

I’m the woman who just told her her feet smell; I could still see her enormous smile and how it fell.

#miranda july #the first bad man #book review #bookstagram #bibliophile #writing #quotes #writing inspiration

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