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notebook-13 · 4 years

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…Look, I know nobody really cares about Overhaul’s characterization, but I spent enough time puzzling over wtf is his deal while I was watching the anime that I may as well make a post about it. Especially considering how he’s come up in recent chapters in relation to Twice and Hawks, one thing that strikes me about Overhaul is that he wants to be normal, and to accomplish that, he tries to change the world instead of himself.

On the surface, Overhaul’s goal was to establish himself and the Hassaikai as the rulers of the underworld using the anti-quirk serum, thereby repaying the “debt” he owed the Hassaikai boss for giving him a home, but I think there’s more going on.

Overhaul’s goal was to eradicate the belief that human lives have inherent value. He planned to do this by destroying quirks, since he perceived them as the basis of people’s belief that they matter.

Since Overhaul’s dialogue is confusing, here are two other translations of his lines:

“Because people are endowed with these things called ‘quirks,’ they can dream. Dream that maybe they can be someone that matters…they’re all sick in the head! So wipe that smile off your face! Thanks to the power of that girl you were trying to save, everything you’ve worked so hard to cultivate…has just been reduced to naught!” (Ch152, mangastream)

“The diseased…have been given quirks, and that lets them dream. Thinking you can actually become something is an illness of the mind. It’s funny! With the power of that girl you’ve come to save, everything you’ve worked to cultivate…has now gone to waste!” (Ep74, Funimation subs)

Basically, people want to matter, and they use their quirks (symbolizing individuality, and human deviation more broadly) as proof to say they do. So when Mirio loses his quirk, Overhaul’s reaction isn’t, you’re cured, you’ve been purified, you’re normal now. His reaction is, now you are worth nothing, you are a good-for-nothing deku, the illusion of value your life held is gone, everything you held dear was actually a lie.

I think that’s why Overhaul can use his quirk with impunity without seeing the hypocrisy. He essentially views people as infected mice infatuated with their own disease, but he knows better! He knows everyone is worthless! So he’s the only one who’s immune to this mental disease of ~being special~, he doesn’t get any delusions of grandeur, he’s the only one great enough to change the world—etc. When Shigaraki removes his quirk, Overhaul’s illusions are torn away the way he was expecting from Mirio.

But Mirio stands up to Overhaul and asserts that he still chooses to find value in his life without depending on whether he has a quirk. That’s the underlying reason why Overhaul is repulsed by heroism: it’s built on the ideal that people matter, their suffering is bad, they deserve to be saved, and so forth.

These are concepts Overhaul resoundingly rejects, for reasons never explicitly stated, but I think a fair interpretation is to say Overhaul’s noticed that he’s different from other people, and he’s afraid it means there’s something wrong with him. This fear is on par with an existential terror, so he can’t acknowledge it directly, but it drives him to go above and beyond to prove he is a normal person who does belong in the Hassaikai, specifically, and in society more generally.

First, for context:

^^ Regardless of how the yakuza are in reality, in Japanese pop culture their image is two-faced. They can be chivalrous gangsters (honorable criminals who offer shelter to outcasts and uphold the vestiges of samurai culture) or they can be villains (relentless hypocrites who prey on outcasts and commit staggering violence). Even down to the clothes they wear, the boss and Overhaul embody these two yakuza archetypes, and accordingly, they can’t coexist.

At the core of their power struggle is what it means to be a yakuza, and whether Overhaul belongs as one.

This reaches its climax when Overhaul tells the boss about torturing Eri, and the boss tells him it’s time for him to leave the Hassaikai. Overhaul puts the boss in a coma because he can’t bear to be rejected and branded a deviant for his cruelty (“straying from humanity,” “soulless heresy,” “how little do you think of people?”). The boss pretty much outright tells him there’s something wrong with him.

Overhaul never talks about why he thinks so lowly of people. It could be any tragic event in his life, whatever went down before he met the boss, sure, or even just the simple fact that his quirk enables him to disassemble and reassemble people like objects, but I think the answers are in the material Horikoshi emphasizes: in his relationship with the boss, whom Overhaul fixated on as a kid.

The feature that strikes me most in Overhaul’s relationship with the boss is the (lack of) acceptance between them. Overhaul seeks the unconditional acceptance the boss offered him as a child so intensely that I can’t help but think there’s a deeper motive: validation. The “debt” Overhaul feels is an imprecise label for his discomfort; he feels pressured to earn his place in the yakuza because, on some level, he recognizes that he doesn’t belong here among chivalrous gangsters. He consequently overcompensates, though going to such extremes just underscores he is different, but he wants to win the boss’s validation that badly because, without it, Overhaul feels like a freak. He’s afraid that there’s something wrong with him. This emerges most pointedly in his “germophobia.”

Given that he 1) literally breaks into hives and flies into murderous rage when he’s touched, 2) considers heroism and quirks to be a disease, and 3) breaks into hives multiple times purely from the force of his emotions—I think his phobia shouldn’t be taken at face value.

In some way, Overhaul is “allergic” to society. He doesn’t belong in this world, among these cultural values, which is why he seeks to change society.

“return humanity to normal”

^^ Overhaul wants to change the world to match his version of normal, and, remarkably, the fact that he believes it’s more feasible to change the world than to change himself says leagues about how immutable he believes his differentness is. By destroying quirks, Overhaul wants to make everyone the same: worthless. He resents that other people even want to be different because feeling like there’s something wrong with him is his greatest fear.

Shigaraki is Overhaul’s main foil, but…there’s a reason why Twice introduces him.

Twice (narrating): There’s no place for insane guys like me in society. As for the people who heroes like to save…yeah, they’re always the good, virtuous ones. Anyway, I finally accepted me for me and decided to make myself useful to the League of Villains because I wanna be okay with being me. What I’m searching for now is other people just as crazy as I am. The aimless wackos looking for a place to belong… [Overhaul debuts, complaining that he’s surrounded by sickness] Twice: (staring at Overhaul) But now those nutjobs are starting to carve out a place for themselves in this world. Twice: “Okay… To ask…or not to ask?!” Twice: Whether it’s us or the heroes, everyone’s starting to take on a different look nowadays. Knowing who you are is what really matters. Who you wanna become…what you wanna do… It’s real, real important.

Ch115, viz.

Twice’s narration frames Overhaul as someone who’s just as freakish as he is, and it foreshadows “a place to belong” as a key theme of Overhaul’s arc—a theme that Overhaul’s first flashback (to when he met the boss) cements. Overhaul wants somewhere to be accepted and belong precisely because he’s a “crazy wacko” with no place in society. Usurping the boss is Overhaul’s attempt to carve out a place for himself in the world, to fashion the Hassaikai (and society at large) in his image.

Twice’s narration also highlights how Overhaul doesn’t know who he is or what he wants, and consequently, he turns out to be a humungous hypocrite who can’t uphold even a single of the principles he professes. He double-crosses the boss, he isn’t sure if he wants to commodify quirks or eliminate them, and he can’t accept that he, like everyone, is worthless. He’s so afraid that there’s something wrong with him that he instead insists that everyone else is “sick,” everyone else is wrong, not him, he’s the only normal person. Unlike the LoV, who are more or less okay with being outcasts, Overhaul sets out to correct this difference because he can’t bear it.

…And Twice’s foiling underscores Overhaul’s lack of emotional attachments. It’s ludicrous to think Twice would ever lock Shigaraki away and then release him after Twice’s clones have toppled society. Overhaul’s interest in the boss is as a source of validation to help him repress his fear that he’s abnormal, not in the boss as a human person with feelings.

While fighting Deku and Eri, Overhaul recalls putting the boss in a coma. He follows up his flashback with these lines:

Overhaul: “None of you are looking at the big picture here!! What I’m annihilating is the world itself!! Its very structure!! So a pathetic little would-be hero driven by his emotions…reaching out for whatever petty sense of justice he stumbles across [meaning the status quo]…can’t stop me!!”

Ch158, viz.

The “none of you” is very telling—Overhaul is referring to the boss as well as Deku. He resents the boss, and his resentment of heroes is partly a sublimation of that—both Deku and the boss are driven by compassion Overhaul lacks, which disturbs him, so he needs to lash out and tell himself that his motivator, "logic,” is normal.

But regardless of the underlying reason, his most important motivators are that he doesn’t value human lives, and that he feels alienation because, on some level, he fears there’s something wrong with him for that. (<– the boss basically tells him so, by spurning him for being cruel.)

^^ When Deku delivers his final blow, knocking off Overhaul’s mask and sending him crashing to the ground, Horikoshi reveals Overhaul’s face for the first time. It’s a plain face; the mask hides no quirk-related anomaly; ironically, Overhaul’s "remedy” to his phobia (the plague mask, to stop himself from breathing the same air as others) makes him look like more of a weirdo than if he went without it.

His flashback here gives us a glimpse of what it is that inspires Overhaul. Overhaul remembers walking in the rain in the boss—a memory that prompts him to make a last stand…but also, a memory that causes him to break out into hives. Once you look, it’s clear he has no hives before he remembers it.

This is a positive memory, but it’s also an intensely negative one.

Because, deep down, Overhaul knows the boss will never thank him again. Out of buried resentment for the way the boss withheld his acceptance and made Overhaul feel like a freak, Overhaul made a point to trash everything the boss loved—he turned the Hassaikai into villainous bastards and carelessly offs the boss’s devotees, he followed through on his evil plan to use Eri as the base for his anti-quirk serum, and he, uh, put the boss into a coma. He even rejected the name “Chisaki,” the name of the strange man who tried to be a yakuza but whom the boss discarded anyways, and named himself after his quirk in order to “remake” himself into someone new. Clearly, like everyone else, he’s invested in his quirk as a crucial aspect of his identity –.–

But embracing his “true nature” isn’t enough when Overhaul knows that the boss will never accept him again, when he is still different, which is why Overhaul wants the world to change to match his views on humanity, so that he’s normal.

Another time Overhaul spontaneously breaks out into hives is when Shigaraki leaves him.

No hives when Compress and Shigaraki touch him to remove his arms. Overhaul seems to be in shock. But Shigaraki’s words finally penetrate.

“You should just sit back and watch!! Have a nice life!”

“I just want to repay the debt I owe you. So please, just sit back…and watch.”

It’s these words from Shigaraki that prompt Overhaul to break out into hives, probably because, by sheer luck, Shigaraki quotes Overhaul’s last words to the boss. Before putting the boss in a coma, Overhaul told him to sit back and watch—one problem with that being, obviously, that someone in a coma can’t watch. So (again by sheer luck) Shigaraki actually does Overhaul one better and fulfills his words better than he did.

Similarly, Shigaraki is stealing Overhaul’s life’s work—just like how Overhaul stole the boss’s life’s work, the Hassaikai—and Overhaul’s quirk, just like how Overhaul stole Mirio’s…but Shigaraki steals them better than Overhaul did. It’s Overhaul’s lofty ambition to use the quirk serum change the world, to establish himself as normal and at the center of his new society, that serves as the basis of Overhaul’s self-esteem.…and it’s Overhaul’s quirk that gives Overhaul his name.

By removing his quirk, Shigaraki strips Overhaul of the name he gave himself. He’s no longer Overhaul, and he’s not even the boss’s man “Chisaki” anymore—he’s the nameless child on the streets whom everybody shuns. The outcast, the reject, someone who can only sit on the sidelines and helplessly watch.

Overhaul’s arc ends on the contrast between them. Overhaul is introduced as the mature, more methodical villain who threatens to supplant Shigaraki as AfO’s successor, but the story unmasks him as an irredeemable, reprehensible hypocrite who can’t stand by anything. Shigaraki, however, proves he’ll stand for what little ground he ekes out, and he copes with his resentment over his outsider status by openly acknowledging it and bonding with fellow outcasts to forge their own home.

Ultimately, I think the core of Overhaul’s character boils down to 1) he doesn’t believe that people matter, 2) he feels intense alienation and isolation, and 3) he’s afraid he’s abnormal. How those three things interrelate, which of them is cause and which is effect, is flexible. I figure his hatred of quirks stems from one of these, probably (1).

Power is another consideration, one that I didn’t look at in my analysis since I think his thirst for power is his attempt to belong/alleviate his sense of abnormality by gaining status. And, though I think Overhaul is framed as a sociopath-like person whose lack of empathy is innate, I think there could be a solid characterization made for his extreme lack of empathy being a consequence of nurture, like he feels like a freak due to a childhood tragedy.

Miscellaneous Overhaul details;

Overhaul doesn’t seem to break out into hives when he touches dirty inanimate objects, like the floor; his phobia of “dirtiness” is focused on people.

His phobia is implied to have escalated or begun during adulthood. He didn’t seem to wear a mask as a kid, nor did he seem to break into hives before the canon timeline (Overhaul has no hives in any of his flashbacks, even when he’s cutting Eri or surrounded by gore).

Overhaul begins to wear his plague mask after a major argument with the boss over proper conduct for a yakuza.

Despite being Overhaul’s father-figure, the boss called him “Chisaki” instead of “Kai”—he might’ve been too traditional/stuffy to use Overhaul’s given name even when he was just a kid.

Mirio reminds Overhaul of the boss, which is why their fight gets so personal.

Overhaul hates Eri so much because they’re similar—both are “aberrations” who don’t belong. Eri is emphasized as a mutation who was rejected by even her mom, and the boss explicitly links their quirks…except that Eri has what he wants: the boss’s acceptance and a “normal” compassionate disposition, the latter of which he viciously leverages against her in order to punish her for it.

And also like…by virtue of being a young, little, helpless, sweet girl, meaning that she’s the perfect victim heroes always want to save more than anything, her life is disproportionately valuable to people, and that’s the sort of sentimental value Overhaul wants to destroy.

More reading;

If you somehow want to read even more about Overhaul, I only vaguely remember what these analyses are about bc it’s been a while since I last saw them, but each of these should have an interesting perspective on him.

Youtube video “The Beauty of Kai Chisaki” about the Buddhist context of Overhaul and the Shie Hassaikai.

A second youtube video called “Eri’s Quirk Explained with Philosophy” (about Overhaul, Eri, and the return to innocence) are both worth checking out.

^^ I won’t link them directly because I’ve heard tumblr filters posts with external links out of searches.

Overhaul lost because people cared about his victims.

Linkspooky interprets Overhaul’s phobia as evidence of his repressed guilt, and they’ve also compared him and Shigaraki.

This conversation about Overhaul’s motives.

#bnha #bnha meta #overhaul #chisaki kai #overhaul characterization #overhaul arc #okay now that I've gotten overhaul outta my system I want to do another body language post #I'm almost done with uraraka's so she'll probably be next #no.13

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tfw-no-tennis · 4 years

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mtmte liveblog issues 4&5

its delphi time babey

I'm sorry but drift & co look like such fuckin nerds on their scooter things on the cover lmaooo

oh god. seeing the first page just reminded me of how horribly confused i was for this whole little arc the first time i read it. i was like ok, who are all these new characters, and also why does everyone look so similar

anyways now i now what's going on. i love first aid

love the running continuity of rung being the literal only psychologist on cybertron (except for fr*id but that's later). no wonder everyone's fucked up they all have to share a single therapist

ok i find it extremely funny that first aid was demoted from doctor to nurse, as if that's a thing that happens EVER - I mean it'd be one thing if first aid was a nurse practitioner (which i doubt is a position that exists here), at least that demotion would make sense, but like...the doctors i work with don't know how to do most nurse stuff (like BP, cathing, vaccinations, hell even using some of the thermometers - that's all stuff nurses/etc do), so demoting one to a nurse would be a disaster (just like promoting a really good nurse to a doctor would be a bad idea). anyways i know I'm being pedantic but it Be like that when you work in the medical field and read something that has medicine-related stuff in it

i love swerve giving ratchet the tiniest free drink ever lmaooo

is that skids being a rowdy drunk in the bg lmaoooo

unironically i love medical statistics. keep it comin

i love magnus’s giant sternal chestpiece thing. its like a bird’s sternum but without the massive pec muscles attached

i love magnus and rodimus’s dynamic so much

oh pipes....im so sorry but this fun space adventure is going to be not so much fun for you

ratchets ideologies are certainly interesting, and i liked seeing how they changed over the course of the story

drift: why would i be SCARED of the DJD, I've got a SWORD, two swords even,

hvbhajkhfbsdjkf pipes really said ‘oi, you two - what's this, then?’ that's the most british fucking thing, that's literally something i say when I'm doing an overexaggerated british accent, oh my god,

PIPES IS SUCH A TINY DUMBASS. ILY SIR BUT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

aaaand now you're covered in dead bodies, pipes. look at your life, look at your choices

drift epic sword moments

drift confirmed for the kinda weird guy who has katanas that he uses to like, cut up fruit and water bottles in his backyard while rodimus films him

‘i thought i heard...bickering’ lmaooooo

ah, so its covid

this arc is how i feel working in healthcare lmaooo especially now that i probably have covid

so rewind condensed the entire war into an 11 second long cringe compilation. nice

seeing the mechanical stuff past tailgate’s visor is so cool

poor tailgate, this guy is getting slammed with history from multiple sides. and like, bias is inevitable in ANY sort of recounting of events, especially controversial historical events, so poor tg just kinda has to take it all in and decide who to listen to

that’s...not really how immunity works, guys. also, you shouldn't be exposed to so much disease with proper ppe usage

is there even such thing as ppe in the transformers universe?? there are fluid- and contact-transmitted illnesses, so there SHOULD be

is there even OSHA in this universe??????? unbelievable

first aid, holding a giant fucking claw clamp: we haven't tried EVERYTHING............

first aid read a human wikihow article on how to jumpstart a car and took notes

i love tailgate’s ‘mom says its my turn on the xbox’ pose

tailgate has a point - he’s from pre-war times, where things weren't as grey so of course he would try to divide the two sides into ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’

CYCLONUS BE NICE DONT HIT UR FUTURE HUSBAND

go get some character development and then maybe you'll feel better

seeing the word quarantine is making me twitchy w/my possible month-long complete isolation quarantine on the horizon

drift pulling his swords on pipes and ratchet pushing down drift’s arms...lmao

poor pipes...even tho this is completely his fault, its still rough

also jesus, pharma and ratchet look so goddamn similar, reading this was so confusing the first time around

drifts idea of subduing pipes involves turning into a cool car and also posing with his sword

also. never gonna be over drift’s massive thighs. jesus man

ooof now drift has the rona. ouch

poor drift, his covid realization is getting overshadowed by pharma being flung around

first aid bustin thru w/the epic medical nipple clamps and some Big Boi Backup

ok that's an epic pre-beatdown speech from fort max right there, daym

im just gonna continue on w/issue 5 now for continuity’s sake. yay!

the cover of tailgate in magnus’s autobot school is so cute

and we open with an incredible shot of fort max str8 up ripping a guy in half. i mean, to be fair, he DID just give an epic speech about how much he was gonna do that, and he certainly followed thru

yeahhhhh, fort max is not doing so well atm

when he puts that dudes head in his chest vent thing and then snaps it shut....man

also i fucking LOVE when their faces are shaded all in black w/only the eyes/mouth fully drawn...fantastic stuff

ratchet: phew i am not equipped to deal w/this level of Fucked Up Mental Trauma. u good m8?

ratchet is already writing up a referral to rung for fort max as this is happening

drift is just laying on the ground dying like, oh hey yeahh I'm still here too

i fucking love when punctuation is drawn in story - like here where first aid has a little ? over his head....fav

ratchet holding drifts hand ;_;

ok tbh ambulon having switched sides 10 yrs ago is wild bc like, 10 years is barely any time for these guys, especially in a war that lasted 4 million years. that would be like a human switching sides in a war like, 3 months before it ends. probably. i sense some math bs, I'm just extrapolating here

all that mexican standoff shit is going down and first aid is just like But That's None Of My Business

ah so ambulon is an asymptomatic carrier

and there's first aid with the save! iconic

pharma calling ratchet ‘buddy’ hbvakjdsbfhkasdf

ooooh i love that they figured it out - and i love that twist, that transforming is what triggers the start of symptoms. remember when drift turned into a cool car? yep

s/o to Ambulon Transformers for helping me in my medical terminology courses, bc now ill always remember: Leg(tm)

also this explanation makes a ton more sense (in universe, at least) than the whole ‘i guess we as medical staff have been exposed to enough Germz that we’re more immune to this or something’ theory

ah, i love the meaningless (to me) alien robot medical jargon

drift and ratchet hhhhhhhhh

‘I'm too wide’ fort max L O R G E

also once again drift is forgotten in favor of a bunch of other dramatic stuff happening vbhjksdfbjhskdf

godddd i love tailgates little flashbacks where we see how Important and Special he is, complete with his ‘bomb disposal’ arm label...augh its so good!

and tailgate’s autopedia page even reflects his lies! like, did tailgate go edit that first thing upon waking up??? seriously, I'm fascinated by tailgate’s meticulous dedication to his fake life

also the fact that ultra magnus believes everything he read on autopedia is amazing lmao

ultra magnus: you think somebody would just go on the internet and tell lies?

fuckgin love magnus’s long ass name/title placard

tailgate hvbahjkdfbjhaskf i mean, he’s gotten the abridged version of everything else, of course he would assume that’d be the case here too...but not on magnus’s watch

magnus cant even say ‘fun’ hvukdasdbjfkjsadf i love my uptight law dad

love rung implying that upon questioning, he would easily divulge a patient’s name and maybe even information about said patient’s treatment while under him....love the disregard for patient confidentiality and hipaa in general

not that hipaa seems to exist here, at least not in a fully realized form

also i mean the above genuinely, i think rung’s tendency towards at least slight malpractice is very interesting

poor red alert....super bad luck that HE was the guy to get roped up in that overlord business

I'm glad that, at the very least, red alert was able to prove that he was Actually hearing something to rung, rather than get brushed off completely

god magnus and tailgate’s interactions are golden

also tg is much more sarcastic/quippy than anyone gives him credit for tbh

‘thought warfare,’ ultra magnus says with complete seriousness. god i fucking love this comic

now i can tell pharma apart from ratchet bc pharma has let his true Petty Bitch nature emerge and you can see it in his expressions

the whole ‘tarn is addicted to transforming’ thing didn't really go anywhere, right? i feel like i noticed that on my second readthru as well

also pharma is such an interesting character given the context of him like, trying to strike a bargain w/the djd to keep them from destroying delphi, but that arrangement inevitably kinda making him lose it as the situation escalates. he’s also just really entertaining bc i feel like he kins the joker or st and probably gets into really heated arguments w/people on twitter about just abt anything

‘sound bomb’ i love this comic

another important facet of pharma’s character becomes clear around this time as well - how he’s really into ratchet. i also choose to read them as awful exes tbh, it makes their dynamic even more entertaining

‘killmaster, with the wand’ is one of my favorite running remarks lmao

also, was killmaster even a character before mtmte? or, if he was, was he an important one? it would crack me up the most if he literally didn't exist at all, but any way you spin it is still funny

ratchet’s tiny humansona facing off against pharma is wild

‘I'm miles from anyone i truly care about’ brutal, ratchet, drift is dying like 2 floors away (im p sure)

SUDDENLY DRIFT IS HERE, ACTUALLY

oh don't worry first aid, that sure isn't the last we’ll be seeing of pharma

so like, did first aid save everyone by posting that data log to his wreckers fan blog or something? lmao love it

i love the pretty fucked up reveal of ratchet having stolen pharma’s hands. like, damn dude.

and that wraps up the delphi arc! our first true ‘arc’ of mtmte, and a fantastic one at that. short and snappy and fresh, with some very clever writing and cool new characters, and a lot of great plot threads to be picked up later. plus, we got to see the beginnings of drift and ratchet’s whole thing (and ratchet and pharmas whole thing). and the lost light gets some much needed extra medical staff, so everyone wins!

well, we’ll see how fort max feels about this all pretty soon.....

#lj rereads mtmte #love me some delphi

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dreamingofatwistedparadise · 4 years

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Sasha Morozov

Name: Sasha Morozov Nick Name: None Code Names: Redacted Ethnicity: Russian Age: 25 Current Location: Blackpool, England

Place of Birth: Novosibirsk, Novosibirsk Oblast , Russia

DOB: Redacted

Height: 5'7 [ 1.70m ] Weight: 110 lbs. [ 49.8kg ] Sexuality: Asexual

Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Green Gender: Male

Tattoos: Snake Tattoo [ starts at his hip and wraps around his right thigh ] Red Spider Lilies [ on his left shoulder, and spreads down his side to just above his hip , runs through the scar on his stomach. ] Scars: Large Scar on his stomach [ Goes from his stomach to his left side, just above his hip ] Three Identical Burn Scars on his Throat Identical Scars on both of his legs [ Won't discuss the injuries that gave him those scars ] Piercings: [ Usually removed for Missions, they get in the way ] Snake Bites Belly Button Piercing [ Usually a Dragon or a Cat ] Mental Illness: Redacted By Dr. Harishva "Harry" Pandey

Job/Education: Ex KGB , Infectious Diseases Doctor, Chemical Analyst Kid of CBRN Unit

Relationships:

From my time spent talking to him, he doesn't really care for a lot of people. The Operators in Rainbow, very few can be considered friends. He'll defend them, protect them and help on missions but they are just people he would rather be far away from. However, it seems he gets along well with the Russians. And Lion. Bandit, however as he's said is tolerable though the first meeting with the man still leaves a sour taste in Sasha's mouth. [ His words exactly ] .

Bandit:

"Don't even get me started, First time I met him. He annoyed me. For reasons I don't think I need to say again. Now I do get why. But my opinion of him is just that he leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Though that being said. I don't hate him. I know shocker, given what people believe."

Lion:

"Lion, I swear he thinks I'm a little kid or something. Rather inexperienced even as he's said before to my face. Ugh, He must just have a thing against people. And honestly don't know if I could stand the guy if not for Finka and Doc. Though it is funny to see him grumble, but listen to Doc like a dog on a leash. Must be something going on between those two. But really Lion takes care of us. Even if he's not always the best about it."

Finka:

"She's like...that big sister who always just tries to do the best she can to help. After all she's been through, some details I don't really know. She tries her best to keep me from fighting with Lion. And the others. Often distracting me. She also seems to know everything I like? Leaving books and snacks on my pillow or at my work station? It's weird to not be seen as some machine instead of a person. People are weird."

Kapkan:

"Kapkan...He's one of those if you get to know them types. But really, he's not all bad. It's not just because he's Russian like me. Though really that does have something to do with it a little bit. He showed me how to take apart his traps, and we improved them a little bit. Not sure how he felt about me opening my big mouth but he didn't say anything. He's very protective, almost jealous over that sniper? Though he'd probably tell me to shut up if I said anything."

Glaz:

"The Sniper, He's an interesting person though I somehow don't think he likes when I ask about his eye. Sometimes. He has this thing about painting people, or drawing them. He's drawn me a few times when he thinks I'm not looking. Or he doesn't care. I gave him art supplies for his birthday, and he used them up so quickly. But it made him happy. Easy to work with, though his attachment to Kapkan is concerning to me. Only if he lets his emotions get the better of him. Like we all do. Well most of us..."

Tachanka:

"He's...weird. I don't hate him? But I can't say I like him either? He's very loud and I just enjoy the quiet. Maybe that's why. I don't know, he's very protective in his own way. And caring. Very useful on missions at that even if he does things his own way. After all don't we all? I want to use his gadget but he won't let me touch it."

Fuze:

"Fuze, people say he's silent and kinda mean. But he's not, he has his own way of caring about people. But if a mission has to be done, it has to be done. Casualty or not. He's just different, they don't exactly have a no casualty rule which does put them at odds with others. Personally though sometimes bad things happen to good people. There is nothing we can do about it. Not truly. Fuze is fun to just have a nice drink with after a rough mission. That's for sure."

Ying:

"Don't like her, plain and simple. She's loud, bossy and annoying. While she's good at what she does. Doesn't mean I have to like her. She tries to lecture us when we do things a certain way. Sorry but we aren't all her. Simple. But I don't know. She gets on my nerves. Her and that other person....but I can deal with the other one."

Ash:

"She's strange. Loud and a bit bossy. Yea they say we have to listen to her? But she's not someone I would want to spend my time with. Though she did at least check on Fuze when he had that incident happen. So maybe she's not all bad. But Ash is not someone I know how to deal with. Too much for me."

Phoenix:

"Phoenix. We've been friends for years before all of this Rainbow Stuff. If I didn't get dragged into this Rainbow stuff because of my other connections. He'd probably have dragged me in. But that's not important. He saved my life, we owe each other a lot though neither of us will admit it. Even now I don't know where he is but I wish I did. I'd bring him where he could be safe though Phoenix was never one to stay put anyway."

Tsubaki:

"Tsubaki, You want information about them? I don't think so, That is earned information. Plus I know you Rainbow Types. No offense, you'd shoot them in the back, or worse. I told you more than I needed to already, information about them was not part of the deal. Nice try though."

Detailed Personality:

Sasha's personality is nothing special in his eyes. The years of torment under his handler has left his true personality buried under what could be called a blank slate. They wanted a soldier that would obey orders without questions. And that was exactly what they got. He was cold, calculating and efficient, exactly as they built the young soldier. Sasha ended lives without question, no matter who they were. Guilt wasn't something that a tool was allowed to have. Any crack in the slate would be ripped out of him no matter how much pain it caused. After all a broken toy can always be fixed with new parts.

That is until Rainbow pulled him out of his handler's clutches. Kapkan and Glaz had a big hand in that, which maybe why he trusts them over a lot of the other operators. After months of being locked under Rainbow's watchful eyes, his personality started to surface. A blank slate replaced with small signs of emotion. Though he can be sarcastic and a bit blunt, he does have at least some kindness in him somewhere. He's one to always put the job first, and keeping people safe sometimes has to come second where the job is concerned.

That might be why he gets along with Fuze so well in the few short worded conversations they may have. Though it's been noted in his file that trust is hard to build, and if he's silent around someone. He either doesn't trust them, or they've done something he doesn't agree with. He's very clear about his dislike for people. And once someone gets on his bad side it's very hard to get off of it. Harry has stated that pushing him gets nothing out of the soldier.

He personally states that he finds the Russians easier to deal with. And he finds some of the other operators too loud and obnoxious. He's one for liking his silence. He's still working on forming his own personality, but he's come a long way since then. He's known to get into a few fights with Ying, or Lion. Though he does find amusement in when Lion gets lectured by Doc. The other Operator he sometimes clashes with is Bandit, memories of the first meeting not forgotten.

But if he had to be around anyone that wasn't Russian. It would be Bandit that's for sure.

History: Redacted

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ramblefang · 4 years

Text

Rabbit Town; BNA ep 2

“Previous Post

Preface

My previous (and first) post of these BNA first impressions ended up being more rambly than even I want to be. Most of that was due to me retelling events, which I was actually doing to help me remember what happened in the episode. So instead, I’m going to try just going through the episode again in another tab and using timestamps (which I think is the norm for this sort of thing anyway.) This technically means I’ll be writing down my second impressions, but I’d really prefer my first watch of episodes to not be interrupted every minute by me needing to tab out and write something. I’ll still try to remember and write out my first impressions anyway.

(Hmm, Netflix doesn’t seem to provide a precise timestamp. Guess I’ll just approximate things by mousing over the...runtime...bar thing.)

Cold Open

0:15 Starting off right where the last episode ended: Michiru saying that she’s human.

0:22 Shirou says she’s a tanuki, based on the appearance of her tail. She seems offended by the idea. My best guess is that her reaction has to do with what tanuki are famous for: having huge balls. (Also they’re magical spirits, which may or may not have something to do with the powers Michiru has.)

0:45 The police arrive and it seems Shirou is a known entity. Gives me Batman vibes. Is Shirou a vigilante? And in that way where the police are just used to it by now?

Opening

0:50 The OP starts and I notice the strands of DNA. Makes me think of how Michiru apparently changed species, and also the way there is some pharmaceutical company behind the very existence of Anima-City. Oh, and I just got that “BNA” is basically a pun on DNA.

1:30 Last time I had recalled something about shadowy feral transformations, but it looks like Michiru transforms into something more equine than anything else. (With what I know from later in the episode, she definitely seems to be a shapeshifter, which I think is appropriate for a tanuki.)

1:40 Oh, and there’s still totally something about this vocal melody that reminds me of “Bad Apple.” Admittedly, it’s been years since I actually listened to that song, so maybe I’ll have to go compare them later.

Forms

2:00 A detail spoiled by the OP: apparently beastmen have human forms that they can switch to, yet Michiru can’t. Honestly, it sort of looks like she’s stuck in a halfway state—a kemonomimi for the most part, though with the nose and “mask”

2:10 Shirou appears surprised, and possibly skeptical, about Michiru being unable to switch forms, indicating that it is by far the norm to be able to do so

2:35 Ah, by the way Michiru speaks about it, switching forms seems to be common knowledge even among humans. Shirou says “Quit talking like a human” in response to the idea that they’re always in beast form, which means this is a common human misconception (and this comes up later as well, illustrating how Michiru really comes across as human in little ways).

2:45 Bystanders seem to be paying special attention to Michiru, likely to her form. (This sets up what happens later over her inability to assume a human form)

Cooperative

3:00 A lot about this scene speaks to me as a trans person: someone running tests that “prove” someone’s identity and insisting that what they see on the surface is all there is to the truth

3:35 Michiru says she must be afflicted with a “disease”, reminding me of the worries I had about a pharmaceutical company being behind the city and how there may be a darker purpose involving a “cure.” Unsettlingly, Michiru also isn’t far off from saying that being a beastman—the very existence of beastmen—is itself a disease. (Mind, she doesn’t literally say that, but based on things she says at the end of the episode, it may not be too far off from how she actually feels—right now.)

4:00 Back to trans stuff, this reminds me of how being trans was, as a whole, labeled as “Gender Identity Disorder”, categorized as a mental illness rather than a natural state of being. (Also, I’m currently building a headcanon of Michiru being a trans girl. Not only because of this stuff, but also due to how she reacted to being called a tanuki: I can interpret her as feeling gender incongruence/dysphoria over the big balls thing.)

4:30 Interesting that this is a “cooperative”. Are they technically not part of the government and are more independent than that? Or maybe the term means something else in Japan.

4:40 Again with trans feels. Filling out forms and needing to identify as something you don’t actually see yourself as

4:50 (Didn’t catch that my first time around: different blood types? Wonder if blood harvesting and blood mixing will be a thing. Remembering the kids that were about to be sold off... Might these things be connected?)

(Rather than making things shorter, this is just resulting in me going even more in-depth. Oh well. I guess I’ll just have to deal with it.)

5:10 Probably a bit of an exaggeration that you can’t get back anything stolen from you: says more about how this is a seedier place than the video in episode 1 let on. We sort of got that from Michiru being pickpocketed in the first place, but this lets us know that that wasn’t an irregular occurrence

5:30 (Also didn’t really absorb this my first watch, but it does make sense that Michiru has been sleeping outside while on the run. Doesn’t feel good to think about how she had to spend that time being scared of the humans around her.)

5:40 Kuro is a wonderfully round birb.

6:10 Michiru making the same connected that I made (and that the audience in general is probably expected to make) about Shirou potentially being that big wolf who was up on the rooftops

6:25 Michiru probably expected Anima-City to be the end of her struggles where everything would just be better and easier. Indeed, she is young and naive.

The Next Morning

7:20 While Michiru may be surprised by the “rule of the strong” here, it does work effectively in parallel with the focus that has been put on money (between these two episodes). The powerful get to do what they want, whether it comes from physical strength or financial power. When it comes down to it, the human world, under a capitalist framework, doesn’t behave all that differently

7:45 Oh, Shirou has some sort of direction connection with the mayor and/or the government. Is this what they meant by “social worker”? Is he some sort of government agent? Does he have the extrajudicial authority to just beat people up (and even kill them?) the way he did with those terrorists?

9:00 (Considering Marie’s apparent connection to Rabbit Town, she probably does have some connection to the pickpocket. But now that I’m making this connection... Did Marie bring those kids to Rabbit Town after they were separated from their parents by beastman hunters?)

Rabbit Town

9:25 My very first expectation with a place called “Rabbit Town” was something akin to “Little China Town”

9:35 Then it struck me as something of a red light district

10:00 And we learn what Michiru might have to deal with in the future for being unable to switch to a human form: more people may think she’s trying to pick a fight.

10:15 Saying that she’s “not some baby” indicates that there are people who can’t control their forms: young children. Or, perhaps, someone who hasn’t been a beastman for a long time. (Maybe she’ll figure it out when/if she gets back with the kids she helped rescue.)

10:45 (Struck by how “coincidental” it is that someone like Grand Grandma would end up with a random kid’s wallet. It’s making me think that the pickpocket and Marie actually funnel people into this person-trafficking ring)

11:15 With my early impression of Rabbit Town being some sort of red light district, I thought this was some sort of communal daycare. (But seeing it again, I’m noticing how stern these women are at seeing the children. Definitely doesn’t look like they care about the kids.)

11:20 The line about them being “women who were betrayed by men”, and the following lines, really fit in with my thinking that this was a red light district, and they probably just didn’t want to outright say these were sex workers. (And maybe some of them are, but it turns out to be far from the whole picture)

11:40 And it does seem to be the image they want to give to Michiru: that they’re a bunch of women struggling together with all of these kids to take care of. There was also a bit about “what it’s like to live as a beastman” which makes me think that it’s definitely the norm for beastmen to be poor—not a surprise since they are clearly an oppressed minority group

Literacy

12:05 Totally expected “Poop” to become the kids’ nickname for Michiru. (Glad it didn’t since it would have made it harder to really care about what happens later.)

12:50 Look at these cuties wanting to learn. (And sobering in retrospect to think how this is probably the most care and attention they’ve had in a while.)

13:10 I forgot to say something about it last episode, but the way Shirou’s sense of smell is visualized is amazing.

13:20 Again with the red light district impression, I was thinking this was the arrival of a pimp or something

13:40 I appreciate Michiru caring about what the kid is already doing instead of reprimanding them for not paying attention

14:00 So we learn about Silver Wolf, who could be the wolf Michiru saw when she arrived in the city. Since Shirou seems to be that wolf, does that mean he’s actually Silver Wolf? Is this an urban legend based on him? Or is he actually some sort of god?

Money

14:45 The demands of payment really played into my pimp impression, but then this guy mentions “letting these women be gangsters.” They could totally still be sex workers as well, but this clues us in that these women may be involved in shadier stuff

15:10 I wonder if the politics of these criminal groups will come more into play in the future. Wouldn’t be surprised if some of the villains we meet end up being allies by the end, considering the way Trigger tends to tell their stories.

15:35 “It’s all women are good for anyway” is an impressively disgusting line to tell us that they’ve been talking about selling the kids. Also, I wonder what it means for the mayor to know about the kids: that the government will be sending people to rescue the kids and shut them down...or that the mayor would be interested in buying...

15:45 The line about the kids being “snatched away” probably means the mayor, so probably not about buying the kids. Still doesn’t mean the “rescue” could end up being more nefarious than it would seem. (Look, I just don’t trust the head of a pharmaceutical company also being a mayor, especially when a video about the city was directly associated with the company instead of being its own thing.)

15:55 Given the earlier scene between Shirou and the mayor, and Shirou being here, I guess he’s something like the mayor’s enforcer? Her trusty hand that does what needs to be done? But I’d also guess that if the mayor is secretly a villain, Shirou has no idea

Trafficking

16:30 I immediately put together that these kids were probably separated from their parents due to attacks by those beastman hunters. (And earlier in this post is when I retroactively put together that Marie, or people with the same job, likely gave/sold the kids to Grand Grandma, if they don’t work for her directly.)

16:40 The rule of the powerful coming up again. This is the way this world (and our world) works. (Which I could go off on a political tangent about, but I’ll refrain for now.)

16:55 Michiru is an atheist. Or at least incredibly pragmatic. Not the most helpful thing to say to people who literally can’t do anything in this situation, but I appreciate the sentiment of actually doing what you can instead of hoping someone else does something about it

17:20 Hmm, no one seems too surprised about Michiru’s expanding tail powers. Maybe this is a relatively normal tanuki thing?

18:00 But the stretchy arms totally aren’t normal, even for a tanuki. Thinking about it, no one else has obviously shown any kind of powers yet. Shirou’s fight with the terrorists could have just been his physical prowess. Do these powers have something to do with Michiru’s transformation from human to beastman?

18:50 In case you didn’t catch on to everyone’s surprise, confirmation that what Michiru just did was very unusual.

19:25 Never a big fan of the “even if they’re women” line. They’ve been doing a very bad thing. Stopping them shouldn’t have anything to do with gender. Why even bring it up. But I guess it does play into Shirou being a masculine and “chivalrous” type of character, as well as this being a generally patriarchal society (which isn’t really any different from our world). (Thinking back to my post on the previous episode, I guess “this isn’t too different from our world” is probably the point that the pseudo-branding contributes to.)

20:00 It seems that Shirou’s relationship to the police is less like Batman, and more like he just outranks them.

20:20 “Facility” is such a cold and impersonal term that it really does make me worry about what the government is going to do with these kids. Again, pharmaceutical company. (I’ll make sure to go back to episode 1 and get a better look at the company’s actual name so I can use that. May as well if I’ll continue to make a big fuss over it.)

20:35 “Even though you’re a beastman, don’t you have a human heart?” is a horribly offensive question. I was initially going to refer to it as a microaggression, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how terrible it is. It’s heavily loaded with the ideas: 1) beastmen are expected to be bad, hence the “even though”, and 2) being human is inherently a good thing. Despite what she said to Shirou at the end of last episode, it seems that she really just has the inverse of his beliefs. And this is so clearly something that only a human would say that it convinces Grand Grandma of Michiru’s “humanity”

21:20 Shirou, needing to wait for evidence before he can do anything, kind of illustrates Michiru’s point of view of not being able to count on society—on anyone else—to be able to help you.

21:30 Shirou, representing the police and government authority to an extent, believing that he “never makes mistakes” again reminds me of the protests we’ve had throughout this year. How the police totally does make mistakes—or rather, the way they don’t even view things they’ve done as mistakes—is totally a problem. (ACAB)

21:40 Following up on what Grand Grandma mentioned earlier about being “betrayed by men”, Michiru questions why it’s only “women and children” that Shirou is protecting. Is it that men don’t need to be protected? “What makes males so special? Are men really that great?”

21:55 And Michiru outright says what she had only implied earlier. Also, she seems a bit scattered between being angry at men, being angry at beastmen, being angry at the police, bring angry at society, and being angry in general. But I get it.

And that’s the end of the episode. I’m not sure if this is how I’ll continue to do these impressions, but I guess I’ll have to see how I feel about it once I get to episode 3. Maybe I’ll try out some genuine first-impressions, even if it means interrupting the episode constantly.

#bna #first impressions

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shreddedparchment · 6 years

Text

My Best Friend Pt.01

Too Young

01/23/2019

Pairing: Steve x Reader Word Count: 4,257

Masterpost in Notes Warnings: Language, pining, angst, some fluff

A/N: This fic came to me as a dream. It was a dream that I did not get to finish and have been wanting to write out because it actually followed a really good story until I woke up and it left me wondering what would have happened next. The first two chapters will be the dream I had and the last chapter will probably be the ending I would have hoped for. I hope you guys like this. Just a small mini-series in between my two big WIP fics. It should be noted that the disease that the reader has is the one that I have, Endometriosis. As it was me in the dream and the endo played a big part in it, I’ve decided to keep it in. As always, if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You groan, moaning and kicking as you struggle to pull yourself up off of the floor.

“Would you keep your voice down? You sound like you’re having sex.” A tight-lipped voice says out of the corner of two pink lips, the bottom thick and juicy, the top slightly thinner but curved up in amusement.

“How do you know what I sound like when I have sex?” You grunt and then stop, whining as you give up and let the heavy weight ball fall onto your chest. “Please, help me!”

You pretend to cry and continue to whimper as you wait for assistance.

A heavy sigh, a soft chuckle, and then suddenly, hovering over you are a pair of storm blue eyes. Steve Rogers leans over you, his hands on his hips as he watches you whimper on the ground.

“You’re being dramatic.” He tells you and you glare at him for a second.

“And you didn't answer my question.”

As he continues to watch you, trapped underneath the large 45-pound weight ball, your glare slowly transitions into a pout as he smiles down at you, soft strands of his blonde hair falling onto his misted forehead.

Here are the facts. One: Steve Rogers is your best friend.

Two: You and Steve have known each other for years. You were there, as an intern, as he was pulled from the ice. You helped bring him back to life. You were glad to not have played a part in that stupid showroom he’d been put in, but you’d been outside, and he’d been so confused when he broke out that you were instantly sympathetic.

Three: Steve Rogers did not like you. Not immediately. It took persistence. Lots of it. You forced him out. You kept an eye on him and ambushed him at restaurants and cafes so that he wouldn’t be alone. It took almost a year but finally Steve Rogers didn’t dislike you. In fact, Steve Rogers looked for you. He sought you out for your opinions and suggestions. Soon after that, he just sought you out to not be alone.

Four: Steve had seen all of your ups and down. You’d been engaged before, then dumped. Dated and dumped. Dated and dumped. It’s been a rough couple of years in that department, but Steve has been there after every disappointment with a pint of ice cream and your favorite movie.

Five: You’ve tried to get Steve to date. Apparently so had his other friend, Natasha. The Black Widow. Neither of you wanted him to be alone. He needed to get back into the world. He’d been so distanced from the world, connecting only with the job and neither you nor Natasha (despite the fact that you and she have never officially met) want that kind of life for him. Of course, she’d been probably slightly more motivated to get him a date because if you’re honest…

Six: You are completely in love with Steve Rogers.

“You look like you could use some help, miss. May I be of assistance?” Steve teases.

“Steve!” You complain and push against the weight ball, struggling against it.

“Alright, alright.” He says, chuckling as he grabs the ball and lifts it off of you.

He tosses away the ball then turns back to you to offer you his hands to help you up onto your feet.

“Why are you so interested in getting fit, anyway? You never were before.” Steve wonders, turning and moving towards the leg press.

You follow, rubbing the spot on your chest where the weight ball had been resting. You stop when he does and then watch as he loads weight after weight.

“I don’t know. I’m just…” You can’t lie to Steve.

You’d been about to tell him that you’re just trying to get in shape. That you want to look good for the next guy who has enough courage to date you. But you can’t get yourself to say it, no matter how much you want to keep from showing him your newest cracks.

He freezes in his load up and watches your smile fall.

“Y/N?” He asks gently, seeing your mood shift.

“I didn’t expect for this thing I was diagnosed with to change my life as much as it has. Getting fit…I never worried about it before and now, I’m lucky if I can get out of bed in the morning.” You shrug and move to sit by the seat of the leg press.

Steve watches you, blinking slowly as he processes your words. As you sit, you force your lips into a smile.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, smiling as you sit yourself down on the floor, and obviously moving on from the uncomfortable talk of your illness.

He knows you don’t like talking about it and if you want to move from it, he's not going to stop you.

“I’m sitting down so you can do your workout.” You gesture at the machine, overloaded with weights.

“You’re supposed to be working out, not gabbing away with me.” Steve points at you, chastising you playfully, and sits himself down, angling his body so that he can put his feet in place.

“Yeah, well, that weight ball kicked my ass.” You lean back on your hands and turn to watch him.

You’ve gotten proficient at focusing when you’re around Steve. You keep a nice line drawn in the figurative sand so that he can’t tell that you’re completely smitten. But in moments like this one, as Steve pushes against the weights, his muscles constricting and flexing, it’s hard to remember that line.

“Steve?” You probe, shifting to sit facing him, still leaning back on your hands, suddenly very nervous because any time you ask Steve these kinds of questions…well, you’re a little scared, a little excited, but very worried that Steve will see though you one day.

In reality…would that be such a bad thing?

“Yeah?” He asks, grunting. He’d seriously overloaded that machine.

You watch as the machine groans against the amount of weight that he’d put. He has to really pack it on for it to do anything for him. “You’re going to break that leg press. Again.”

He stops, huffs a laugh, then reaches up to wipe at the sweat on his forehead. He hardly ever sweats. Why is he trying so hard?

“I always replace them.”

Still. You make a mental note to send in a request to maybe have a special leg press made for Steve so that it won’t break so easily.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. replaces them.” You point out.

“Is that what you were going to ask me?” He asks, pushing passed your poking but also knowing you well enough to know that you nagging at him about breaking the workout equipment was not what you had intended to say.

“No.”

“Well?” Steve urges you, going back to his workout.

“When was the last time you went out on a date?”

He drops the weights and they clang loudly.

“This again? You and Nat, I swear.” He grumbles.

“Well, we’re worried about you.” And you really are…but…

“I don’t want to go on a date.” He says, a note of finality in his tone.

He should know better. You don’t drop this particular subject easily.

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to.”

“But why?”

The weights clang again as he stops, frustrated with your persistent probing.

“I’m just not in the right headspace for dating, Y/N. I don’t want to see anyone right now. I don’t have the time.” Steve argues.

“That's such bullshit. When you like a girl, you make time for her. You shift your priorities. You can even stop seeing me so much. I’m a huge time suck.” You point out.

“Not an option.” He grunts.

“Come on, Steve. I’ll help, yeah?” You push yourself up, trying to ignore the happiness that it gives you that he's not willing to cut down his hang out time with you, and move to sit yourself on the oddly angled leg press seat.

You try not to let your heart flutter too much as Steve makes room for you quickly and then as you slide down towards the lower end of the seat, Steve lifts his arm and rests it across your lap as he sighs in frustration.

“I don’t need help. I need to finish my workout.” His hand finds your thigh and he rests it there softly, flat against your leg.

Focus Y/N.

“Trust me, you need help. Now, what are you looking for? Blonde? Brunette? Redhead? Skinny? Chubby? Straight up voluptuous?” You look around the gym and point out the body types you see.

“Y/N…” Steve begs, irritated.

“Fine. Forget looks. What about height? Short? Really short? Tall? Just right?”

“Y/N.” He says more sternly.

“Would you stop being such a grumpy old man and just play along for a little bit? Sheesh.” You growl.

You jump slightly as Steve smacks your leg. Not enough to make it hurt, just enough to grab your attention. Clearly chastising you, though.

“Hey, don’t call me an old man.”

“Well, stop acting like one.” You grumble.

The two of you stare at each other, both frowning.

“Hey, what are you two talking about?” You look up at the slightly accented voice and smile up at Annie Wong, S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent on loan from the Hong Kong office.

She's beautiful, Chinese, with long black hair pulled up into a ponytail, no makeup, dressed in standard issue S.H.I.E.L.D. logo tights. Her body is crazy nice. Fit. Tight. And in that racerback tank top and tights, she looks really good.

“I’m trying to get Steve a date.” You tell Annie. You’re her guide here, of sorts.

She's actually really nice and the two of you have hit it off really well.

She scoffs, then laughs at you.

“Good luck with that.” Then she looks at Steve. “Try not to disappoint her, she gets moody when she doesn’t get her way.”

“Don't I know it?” Steve agrees.

“Hey!” You throw your left elbow back so that it jams into his side and he laughs, looking at you as he reaches behind your back to rub that spot with his right hand.

“Can I please finish my workout now?” Steve begs, throwing his head back.

“No.” As Steve's hand squeezes your thigh again you can’t help but think about how great this really is. Sitting here with Steve's arm practically around you…nestled in against his side.

For a quick fleeting moment, you imagine that Steve really does want to hold you right here, his arm itching to be thrown around your waist. Maybe his lips even find your neck?

“Y/N?” He asks, noticing your silence.

Annie is already at a treadmill, running.

“What about age? That’s a good one. You don’t want someone too old.” You point out. “Young would be better in your case, with that slow aging and all that.”

“Young?”

“Twenty?” You ask.

“Too young.” He says.

“Twenty-four?”

“Too young.”

“Twenty-six?”

“Too young.”

“Seriously? Fifty then!” You offer, exasperated by his pickiness.

He looks at you, frowning.

“Sixty?” You shrug.

He laughs.

“Why are you laughing? I’m trying to find you a date and you’re making it impossible.”

“Sorry.” He says, with another squeeze to your thigh.

“Let's not focus on the exact number and instead a type. What about…?” Your eyes wander around the large gym room, an array of agents and clerical workers getting their fit on.

Inspiration suddenly strikes as your eyes land on Annie. She's definitely more fit than you are but you and Annie are the exact same age, your birthdays only a month apart.

“What about Annie? Or someone like Annie?” You ask, hoping you’re not being obvious.

Steve sighs heavily, clearly done with this game. He looks over at her and shakes his head.

“Too young.”

Too young. Too young. Too young?!

You can’t help the disappointment that fills you, it darkens your mood almost instantly. How long have you pined over this guy? How much time have you spent with him? Not that those moments were a waste…but…too young?

Your heart aches as you suddenly realize that Steve is never going to want you. You’re too young apparently and now with your diagnosis, no one will want you. You’re useless. Today, today is a good day. A day with little pain.

Your first day out in over two weeks.

“Can I finish my workout now?” He asks, looking at you, leaning to his left to get a better look at your face.

No. He can’t look at you. He'll see your crestfallen expression, your sadness that you’ll never be with him.

“Yeah, sorry I bugged you.” You grab his wrist and lift it off of your lap.

You move away from him, not looking back as you move towards Annie.

“Hey, wait, Y/N.” Steve calls out but you don't stop or look back. You climb up onto the treadmill beside Annie and start a slow jog.

“What happened? Couldn’t find anyone good enough for him?” Annie asks.

When you don’t answer she looks over at you.

“Ugh! Didn’t I tell him not to make you moody?” Annie asks, frowning.

You look at her as you jog, pulling the sleeves of your oversized hoodie up, trying to ignore the way you get hot extra fast thanks to your sweatpants.

She looks over at Steve and starts to motion emphatically at him. You don’t look to see if he's responding or what she might possibly be saying. You focus on reminding yourself of your proper place at Steve's side as nothing more than that pesky intern turned archivist who would never be more to him than just a friend.

For two hours you focus. Two hours! You remind yourself of the looks he's given those girls, the agents who work around him. The ones that could kick your ass. Looks that he's very good at hiding from everyone else but you because you’re always hoping he'll look your way.

You remind yourself of the nights you and Steve had slept in the same bed. He'd come home from a particularly exhausting mission and because you always called and demanded to see him immediately, he would come over without hesitation and then collapse on your bed in exhaustion.

Every morning you'd wake up and he was always on the sofa as if sleeping beside you was so unbearable he had to move in the night. And then there were the times that the two of you would wake up in the middle of the night and talk. Just chat about how hard the mission was or how tough it had been for you at work, both of you smiling, laughing, and commiseration a mere foot apart.

How many times had the two of you gone quiet on the bed? How many times had your heart pounded as he lay there, arms either under his pillow as he lay on his stomach or at the base of his chest when he laid on his back, his blue eyes boring into yours and never, not once did anything happen?

No kiss. No hug. No confession. No hand holding. Nothing.

Face it, Y/N. You’ve been friend zoned.

You finally push the large red button on your machine and follow it into a slow stop.

You look to the one beside yours and find that Annie is gone. She'd probably been gone for a while.

You scan the large room for her and find her by the bench press with Steve. He's sitting, looking up at Annie as she leans on the metal bar, talking casually as he curls his large arms, lifting what has to be about two hundred pounds. How did he even fit all those weights on that one bar?!

You pull your sleeves down and as you move towards them, you feel a small bit of pressure on your lower back. Had you pushed yourself too hard?

You ignore the discomfort as best you can because you want to hear what they’re saying.

“…it's only a month apart so we thought a joint party would be good.” Annie finishes with a shrug.

Fuck! She’s telling him about the party tonight.

“That’s a good idea.” Steve says, then when he spots you approaching he grins as wickedly as Captain America can…which is not very wicked.

It just makes him look like a cute, troublemaking toddler. Stupid goody two-shoes and his sweaty forehead and torso. That white shirt is starting to cling.

“Did you ask Y/N before you started to plan a joint party? She might throw a fit, you know how she likes to be the center of attention.” Steve teases.

He looks over at you as you stop, shoving your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie, with that same mischievous grin.

You don't smile. Right now…you just can't.

Instead you stare at him and your eyes helplessly wander over his lips. They linger there for only a second before you force them down to his chest, stomach, then lap where they stay since that spot is fairly safe at the moment.

When you don’t laugh and because you also don’t say anything in response to his poking fun, the atmosphere between the three of you grows awkward.

“Uh, well,” Annie says, quickly moving on. “ Y/N got permission to get a new sound system for the Black Pearl ballroom-"

“That’s the smallest one, right?” Steve asks. “Shouldn’t you have asked for a bigger one? I can still call Tony, see if he'll let you use one of the ones on floor seventy-nine?”

“I don’t have that many friends.” You tell him, looking back up at his face.

He's still watching you, his brow slightly furrowed. Is he worried? Confused? Probably confused. In all the time you and Steve have been friends you have been angry at him only two or three times and it was always because you were worried. He could be reckless on missions and came back more injured than you liked.

Now, you just can’t make yourself act normal. What's wrong with you?

“I’ll get the rest of the Avengers to come.” He offers.

“I’ve never even met anyone other than Sam.” You point out. “Why would they come to my birthday party?”

“I don’t know, I just thought-"

“We've already ordered the food based on our current headcount.” You throw out.

“Oh, right.” Steve says sounding slightly disappointed.

Once again silence falls between you two and it's just as awkward and tense as before. Which is super weird for you and Steve.

Annie hurries to save the conversation.

“You’re coming, right?” She asks Steve.

Steve finally looks away from you at Annie but before he can answer-

“Yo, Cap!” Sam's voice filters down from the second floor.

All three of you turn to look and find him leaning casually against the railing.

“Mission time. We gotta go.” He says. “Hi Y/N.”

He drags your name out, waving at you like he's teasing a kid about wetting his pants or something.

“Hi, Sam.” You reply, still no smile.

“Hey, Annie. You wanna come? We could use some extra hands.” Sam says, smiling a bit more flirtatiously with Annie.

Of course, even Sam doesn’t see you as a woman to flirt with. Not that you want him to but jeez.

“Sorry, Sam. Y/N and I have plans tonight. We're throwing our birthday party. We sent you an invite, did you not get it?” She asks. “Sorry it's so last minute.”

“Oh, damn, yeah. I got it. I forgot that was tonight.” And he does look genuinely disappointed to be missing your shared party.

“Don't worry about it, Sam. It's not important.” You assure him.

“What are you talking about? We'll get this mission done quick and be back in time for the cake.” He assures you but winks at Annie. “But seriously, Steve, we gotta go. I already got your suit in the jet.”

“Okay, I’m coming.” Steve tells him.

“I’ll see you girls later.” Sam promises, slaps the metal railing, then disappears to the right towards the elevators.

“I gotta go.” Steve says, putting the barbell down and standing up.

“Of course. Good luck, Steve.” Annie says with a smile.

“I’ll make it to your party, Y/N.” He says a little more quietly, talking just to you. “I promise. I'll put a rush on the mission.”

You look up at his sweaty face, his blue eyes searching yours for something. Forgiveness? Reassurance? Anger?

All you have for him is disappointment. Not just for the party but because you're Annie's age…and she's too young.

“For what? So you can do something reckless and mess up because you’re trying to get back on time?” And you really do want him at the party. You want to see him and dance with him, and laugh and talk and smile but your mouth opens up and all you can say is, “Don’t bother.”

You can feel Annie's eyes on you as she realizes how bad the mood you’re in actually is.

Steve’s face falls more and he takes a step towards you, apparently hating this dark mood you’re in too but before he can open his mouth, Sam's voice calls out again.

“Steve!”

With a heavy sigh, Steve gives you just one final confused look before he races around and up the stairs and also disappears towards the elevators.

“I’m gonna go shower.” You tell Annie as you begin to walk towards the showers.

“Y/N, are you okay? Should I come with you?” She offers, eager to make you feel better.

But this mood, it's like you’ve been infected. Maybe all the pining had finally just caught up with you?

“Why? Can't I shower by myself? Maybe I need adult supervision, right? I’m only Y/A.” You say with a bitter bite to your words but it's mostly just sad.

Annie doesn’t follow you.

As you make your way up the stairs, you suddenly feel another heavy bit of pressure in your lower back and a very sharp stab of pain near your nether regions. It shocks your feet into a stutter but luckily you catch yourself on the railing and avoid tumbling down the stairs.

You breathe lit a quick, sharp breath as the pain slowly subsides then move along.

As you shower, you rejoice in the fact that here in the showers, you can cry and no one can see your tears. Not to mention, the hot water helps with the aches you’re beginning to feel.

So many years of being friends. You'd always harbored this small bit of hope that something might happen between you and Steve. The disappointment, the heartache you feel as you finally realize that it will never happen is overwhelming.

So you release your dark mood with tears, letting them wash away into the shower drain with the rest of your sweat and grime.

You also realize that you can’t be mad at Steve. Not really. You shouldn’t be mad at him just because he doesn’t see you in that way. It's not fair to him and it's not fair to your years of friendship.

But it hurts! Your heart complains.

Feeling silly for being such an ass to Steve before he left on mission—oh, God, what if he does something stupid and gets himself seriously hurt and the last thing you told him was not to bother?!—you move out to your locker with a towel wrapped around your torso and hair.

Like this, you might pass for anyone. Especially in a foggy bathroom with other women in just their towels.

As you rifle through the extra clothes you’d packed in your locker, two of those S.H.I.E.L.D. agent girls Steve looks at discreetly walk in, wrapped in towels too.

“They're always together. They have to be dating or at the very least screwing.” The shorter of the two says.

“Don’t be stupid. Like she could ever satisfy him? She got dumped at the altar too, remember? And anyway, I was working out on the leg press behind them when they were sitting looking all cuddly and she was seriously asking him what he liked in women.” The tall one says.

“Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” Shortie asks.

“No, I swear. She was listing off things like hair color and body type. She was trying to find him a date. And ‘sides, did you see what she was wearing? Who comes to the gym dressed like that if you’re dating Captain America? No one. That's who. She's obviously not trying. And I’ve seen him checking you out.”

“Oh my God, seriously?!”

“Yes! Trust me, she's totally not his type. He needs someone more…adult. Mature. Someone who can show him how to maneuver the curves.” The tall one says as she reaches over and playfully traces her friend's sides.

Shortie laughs and you grip the handle of your locker more tightly.

“Anyway, she's too young. Or so it sounded like he was saying.”

“He told her she was too young?” Shortie asks.

“Not directly. But she suggested some girls and well, she's around the same age I think. So, make your move! That loser obviously has no chance.”

The two girls disappear into the showers as your mind is flooded with two words that effectively transition your sadness into bitter resentment. Two words that repeat over and over and over and over: Too young.

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ckret2 · 5 years

Text

Medical Research

SPOILERS FOR DETECTIVE PIKACHU!! Even the summary has spoilers I ain’t kidding.

Fandom: Pokémon, Detective Pikachu movie Characters: Mewtwo, Harry Goodman, Detective Pikachu but he doesn’t do much Words: 2600 Summary: How, exactly, did Harry Goodman get Mewtwo into PCL? He certainly didn’t capture the most powerful Pokémon in the world. The only possibility is that he persuaded Mewtwo to go. But what would persuade Mewtwo, whose first conscious act was to blast its way out of a scientific lab full of gene experimenting, to willingly walk into one? Notes: Call me Babe Ruth.

"Medical research!"

Mewtwo froze, glowing hand outstretched toward the floating human's chest—still poised to blast him halfway to the northeast Kanto coast with a single mental flex. A Pikachu was clinging to his shirt, huddling over his heart with eyes squeezed shut.

Slowly, Mewtwo's hand stopped glowing. But it didn't let go yet. "Explain."

The human gasped in a breath as the pressure Mewtwo was exerting on his body to keep him floating loosened, then automatically kicked his legs as if trying to stay aloft as he felt gravity take hold of him again. Mewtwo wasn't going to drop him. Not yet, anyway.

"J—just outside Ryme City, in Sinnoh," the human said. "There's a lab! They want—"

Mewtwo's skin prickled at the word lab. "I am not interested in being experimented on by humans again." It raised its hand. The human yelped as he jerked another few feet in the air.

"Listen to him!" the Pikachu cried. "He's not here to hurt you, I promise! Please!"

Mewtwo hesitated, ruminating on the Pikachu's request. The pair had approached it with words instead of attacks, and with none of the complicated machinery designed to entrap and ensnare that the likes of Team Rocket and their many subsequent bounty hunters tended to throw at it. Mewtwo could have chalked it up to cockiness—but the human wasn't even carrying poké balls. Not even one for the Pikachu. The only machinery he had on him was a cell phone.

They weren't here to catch it.

Slowly, Mewtwo lowered the pair—and then dropped them, from three feet up, to the muddy bank of the Cerulean River. The human landed hard and groaned; Pikachu squealed in surprise.

"Very well. I will listen," Mewtwo said. "Explain your research—and why I should want anything to do with it."

"Nnh..." The human sat up, lifted his arms, and grimaced at the mud covering them from elbow down. "Not—not my research. I was—hired, by the guy funding it. You've heard of Howard Clifford?"

"No."

"Ahh. Great. Well, he's uh, he's this—big, idealist philanthropist type guy—it's that whole archetype, the benevolent futurist billionaire thing, you know the type—"

"I do not."

The human stopped, mouth partway open, caught mid-sentence and unsure how to go on now. "Right. Well, I'm—I'm sure you'll meet him, if you decide you want to come. Anyway, he wants to make medicine from the genes of Pokémon, that can be used on both humans and different Pokémon. Stuff like, uh, uh... identifying the genes that are altered when Wailmer turns into Wailord, and injecting them into Grotle so they get way, way larger when they evolve."

Mewtwo tilted its head. "Why would they do that?"

The human opened his mouth. Then stopped with his mouth open again, brow furrowed, and thought about that. "You know, I—I don't actually... know why they did that. I think I was, uh, busy gawking at the ginormous Torterra when they explained the whole... purpose, of that specific project."

It didn't matter, ultimately. Mewtwo's skin was prickling again, at this talk of genes shuffling between Pokémon as casually as scavengers trading berries, and its instincts were telling it to go hide.

Hide where, though? The human had done what few others had done before: tracked Mewtwo down to its hidden sanctuary, an unobtrusive mountain cave hiding in the shadow of Mt. Moon. Mewtwo's fault for being so being so merciful to other explorers who'd passed through. If it showed mercy to this one as well—and, at this point, it supposed, it would—then its location would be known to this benevolent futurist billionaire the human had mentioned, and who knew how many others would be sent after it. And soon Team Rocket would learn of its location again. This sanctuary was no longer safe for Mewtwo—and it wouldn't be safe for any of the other Pokémon in it, either, if Mewtwo didn't leave it behind for good.

For a moment, Mewtwo was furious at the human for discovering it.

It forced itself not to act on its rage. But the Pikachu sensed the rage all the same, fixing Mewtwo with a hard look, his cheeks crackling.

"You have accomplished a feat that very few humans have ever achieved, in tracking me down on purpose," Mewtwo said. "To have done so, you must know a great deal about me. You must know what I am—what I come from."

The human hesitated, the nodded. "Little—little island near Cinnabar, right? A cloning experiment? Sponsored by a gym leader with ties to organized crime."

"I am far beyond a mere 'cloning experiment.' Tell me: do I look like a Mew?"

"Well, I can't say I've ever seen a Mew, but—" The human stared at Mewtwo for a long moment, taking in its height, its oddly fused fingers, its strange bony sternum, its misshapen double neck, "—but no, you... don't exactly look like the cave art."

"I am Pokémon gene splicing. I am what happens when humans try to improve upon Pokémon—when humans snip DNA apart like so many little lengths of rope and knot them back together. I should not be."

"Hey now, that's pretty harsh on yourself—"

"And there should not be other things like me," Mewtwo said firmly. "I do believe you both came here with good intentions. But your intentions mean nothing in the face of the abominations you're asking for."

The human stared at Mewtwo a moment longer, hard—this time, not like he was taking in its body, but like he was looking for something deeper. Mewtwo didn't like that look. It felt... penetrating.

"Hey." The human's voice was softer now. "Listen." He slowly got to his feet, brushing excess mud off his rear. Pikachu scampered up to his shoulder and settled there. "You've... you've had bad experiences with humans. Especially humans in labs. Especially especially humans in labs talking about genes. I get that. I understand why you wouldn't want to go back to one. I wouldn't blame you or judge you in the slightest for completely rejecting anybody coming up to you to talk about anything that's got to do with humans in labs with genes." He paused. "But I hope you'll consider not rejecting it. Because there's a lot of people and Pokémon out there, right now, every day, suffering—from injuries they won't recover from, from diseases we don't have cures to—and the Pokémon Comprehensive Laboratory in Ryme City is trying to change that. You can't im—"

He stopped, face twisting, swallowed hard; Pikachu fussed with his hair for a moment until he'd collected himself. "You can't imagine what it's like," he said, voice hoarser than it had been just a moment earlier, "what it's like, watching someone you love—waste away, and die. From an illness that there's no cure for yet."

Telepath though Mewtwo was, it had never been much of a mind reader; and what skill it had once possessed had atrophied to nothing under Team Rocket's tender care. It was a very weak empath at best. But it didn't need to be strong to feel the sudden miasmas of decade-old grief leaking from the human, like poisonous gas from a Koffing's craterous pores.

It drifted closer to the human, equal parts intrigued and pitying, feet inches above the muddy riverbank. "You speak from experience?"

The human shrugged with his un-Pikachu-occupied shoulder. "Do you know what cancer is?"

"I've been told I am a cancer," Mewtwo said. "A Mew who's more tumor than healthy tissue."

The human let out a startled laugh. "Well—that shows you can survive it, right? That's more than most people can say. Imagine what that would be like—being made of cancer, but never dying from it." He sniffed hard, shook his head, and collected himself again. "Listen, I uh—I didn't come to talk about my life. Sorry. But—Howard's poured a lot of money, manpower, and poképower into tracking you down. And he's done it all because he believes, sincerely believes, that something in your genes—your weird, part-prehistoric-demigod, part-manmade-mishmash genes—holds the key to making life a whole lot better for a whole lot of sick folks. I don't get the science behind it, but he's got people who do—and to them, you're not Wailord genes in a Grotle. You're everything."

Mewtwo glanced away from the pair, considering the proposition uneasily. As much as it reviled the thought of returning to another lab... had it not been working, for years, to undo the things that Team Rocket had done to it? The damage that had been done to its soul—if it had such a thing—its mind, if not. For years, now, it had been fighting to unlearn all that Team Rocket had taught it about where a Pokémon's worth comes from, and the supremacy of power, and the dynamic of master and tool between human and Pokémon. Mewtwo was not the same Pokémon that had fled from Viridian City so many years ago.

Maybe it was time, too, to unlearn its fear of white coats and the smell of sterilized steel.

Maybe it was time to see if it could redefine how it saw its own genes—not as slap in the face of the natural order, but as a gift to the world.

It wanted to be a gift.

"I am... proficient, in genetics," Mewtwo confessed. "I have conducted my own experiments in augmented cloning. You've come to ask if I'd offer my body to medicine. I can also offer my mind."

The human blinked at it. "Augmented cl—what, what-what, what kind of augmented cloning?"

Mewtwo cringed in shame. "Enhancing a Pokémon's strength. For battle. Augmenting their innate special powers."

"Wh..." For a moment, the human just stared. "Th—yeah! Yeah, that's—that's fantastic. Hey, the PCL's got some Froakie it tries out all its new discoveries on—Froakie adapt really well to new DNA, apparently—you can show them what you've got, see if they think it's useful?"

Mewtwo nodded hesitantly. "My procedures don't allow for genes to be inserted into already-living Pokémon. I'll have to clone new ones."

"Maybe they'll be able to help you figure out how to put it in living Pokémon? Froakie evolve a couple of times, it should be easy to get the genes in them."

"Perhaps. If they're willing. If they're volunteers." It would have to ask them, personally—all the Pokémon in the facility—if they'd volunteered. If even one hadn't...

"So, that's a yes, right?" the human said. "You're in? Gonna come help make the world a better place?"

"Provided I will be treated like a volunteer, not a test subject," Mewtwo said, "yes. I'm in."

"Yesss." The human performed a slow fist pump.

Pikachu cheered, then beamed up at Mewtwo. "Thank you. You've made my partner really happy."

Partner. Not trainer, nor owner, nor master. "I would not have given him a chance had you not vouched for him." It would not have given a chance to any human who didn't have a human to vouch for them; but it had found that Pikachu tend to be particularly good judges of character.

"Wh— Are you talking to—?" The human pointed to the Pikachu on his shoulder.

"Of course. Did you think I, a Pokémon, am only capable of communicating with humans?"

The human paused. "No! No, of course I didn't. I just, didn't think about— He vouched for me?"

Mewtwo nodded. The human smiled at Pikachu. "Aww. That's the sweetest— Hey, buddy. Fist bump." He held his fist up. Pikachu leaned forward, planting both hands on his knuckles; sparks snapped between them.

"This facility is in Ryme City?" Mewtwo asked. "Can you describe the neighborhood so I can find it? Preferably from a bird's eye view."

"Oh, no, don't worry about— Howard said if I actually found you, he could send a charter flight. We get to ride to Sinnoh in style."

"I see." Rich, ran his own science lab, could summon up airplanes at his convenience... Mewtwo had yet to met this Howard, but it was already uneasy at the thought of his power. It seemed like a very familiar power.

But he wasn't using his power to design the world's most powerful Pokémon; he was using it to cure diseases.

And Mewtwo wasn't going to be one of his possessions; it was going to be a volunteer. A volunteer who had been asked to come, by a human and a Pikachu who'd approached with words instead of weapons. It would be a volunteer. Perhaps even a scientist.

That thought also made it uneasy.

"Ugh, the mud's starting to crust on me." The human shook his hands. Not much mud came off. "You mind if we head back into town so I can wash off in my hotel?"

Mewtwo wasn't fond of the idea of venturing into Cerulean City. It glanced to the side. "There's a river right here."

"Well yeah, but—I don't want to walk back into town with soaking wet pants."

"You could take them off."

The human's face screwed up. "Thaaat's not going to work for a human."

Mewtwo waited for him to explain why. He didn't. Maybe it was an instinct. One must respect other species' instincts, even if one doesn't understand them.

"I will wait, then. At the entrance to the cave." Mewtwo raised higher, preparing to leave for its shelter. It would perhaps be its last opportunity to visit the cave for a long time. "When you're ready to go to Sinnoh, come find me."

"Yeah. Okay." The human nodded. "And—thanks, Mewtwo."

Mewtwo nodded. Then, slowly, spoke: "Thank you. For all of my life, the means of my birth have been a... a burden to overcome. I have lived my life striving to prove that I have worth in spite of how I was made. I think... it will be good to learn whether, despite all the horrors I went through—and committed—some worth can be found in me because of how I was made. I appreciate this opportunity, human."

The human looked surprised. "Wow. That's... You're kind of a deep guy, Mewtwo."

"I have a lot of time to think," it said. "And the most powerful brain on the planet."

The human huffed a laugh. "Hey, before I go—you don't have to call me 'human.' I shoulda introduced myself earlier, but, you know—" He held one hand up, first two and last two fingers pressed together, and imitated the gesture Mewtwo had made when it levitated him into the air. "The name's Harry. Harry Goodman."

"Hairy Good Man," Mewtwo repeated dubiously. "I have seen hairier humans."

"No, it's— That's spelled H-A-R-R-Y," Hairy said. "No I."

Mewtwo nodded slowly. "I can't read."

The human stared at it. Then shook his head slightly. "I don't know why I assumed you could."

Now that they'd been properly introduced—and now that Mewtwo had spilled more of its inner life to a human in thirty seconds than it had to anyone else in the past decade—Mewtwo was more than ready to be alone. To prepare itself for a trip to Sinnoh. To the lab. "Go." It gestured with its head in the direction of Cerulean City. Its highest roofs could just barely be seen over the trees beyond the river. "I'll be waiting."

"Right, right." Hairy turned toward Cerulean City; then turned back around again, in the direction of the nearest bridge back across the river, far in the opposite direction. He sighed quietly. Pikachu craned his head, checking for wild Pokémon along the route ahead.

Mewtwo gently lifted him up—he yelped in surprise—carried him over the river, and sat him on his feet on the opposite bank. "Oh—thanks!" He waved.

Mewtwo nodded again; then floated there, and watched, as Hairy headed back toward town. Pikachu turned to watch Mewtwo over his shoulder until they were gone.

Walking into a lab of its own free will. (Medical lab, it reminded itself again. Medicine, not power.) It hoped it wasn't making a mistake.

It hoped its genes would help people.

Comments/reblogs are welcome! If you want to leave a tip or like the fic on AO3, the links are in my description!

#detective pikachu #mewtwo #harry goodman #pikachu #fanfic #my writing #spoilers

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justakidwithopinions-blog · 5 years

Text

Preface

First I would like to tell you why I chose this particular movie; This movie is about a mental – turned into a physical- disorder called body dysmorphia and in this special case anorexia. I’m pretty sure you know what these terms mean but since I’m here to review it and dare I say “criticise” it, I’m going to give a summarized explanation.

Body dysmorphic disorder (BDD), or body dysmorphia, is a mental health condition where a person spends a lot of time worrying about flaws in their appearance. These flaws are often unnoticeable to others.

Anorexia an emotional disorder characterized by an obsessive desire to lose weight by refusing to eat.

Now on to why I chose this movie, I have been dealing with BDD for many years now that at this point I don’t even remember when it started, I was a “fat” kid that everyone (parents, family, friends and even strangers) would judge and or make fun of. That made me very much aware of my “ugly” and “abnormal” body and the cherry on top is that when I hit puberty my breasts turned out saggy and there I was left with the judging eyes of my mother –and other close female family relatives- that would point that out every so often that I’m looking forward to getting surgery on them this summer to “fix” them and that means forming into a build-up standard made by the human race. I went on a pretty strict diet when I was 16 and lost 11 kg and since then I’ve been keeping this strange diet where I eat nothing beyond 5 pm (sometimes 7 pm depending on when I eat my dinner) and basically eating less than 1000 calories a day and well as everyone encourages you to do so exercise; by now so many of my friends and relatives say that I don’t or that I refuse to eat anything and that it is unhealthy, which is ironic cause they were the ones that made fun of me and judged me when I was fat and now that I’m considered “skinny” I “Don’t eat anything and torturing myself for nothing and putting too much pressure on myself”, well guess what? I still consider myself fat, I still want to lose at least 5 kg and have an impossible dream to get anorexia. Yes, I do wish I have a deadly disease and this movie clearly shows why not to wish that upon yourself and how you need to live. Not just as in breathing but as in being alive, enjoying the moment, loving, caring and being loved! Which I haven’t felt in a while. That’s the reason I chose it because not only it shows you the good sides of life that everyone dreams of but it also shows the struggles and how hard it is to reach the good sides and that we – I in this case- take so many things for granted.

To The Bone

The movie starts with some people in a group therapy session and a girl saying that how the media presents us with a cake, like it’s a reward then in the next page they show some sad fat girl and some fit girl next to her that says I went on this diet and got fit and the girl continues by complaining about the media saying that it wants to torture us, which I think is a great way to start a movie about anorexia, you see, many people – especially women – are often criticized by the world around them, we have magazines that judge celebrities about how fat they’ve gotten while red circling some tummy rolls on a person who’s at most a size 5; since we live in a society that people make shrines out of celebrities and look so high up to some people, we see those red circles, look into the mirror and say “well I have more tummy rolls, I’m a size 6! People must hate me, people probably don’t like me, I will never be loved…” and it goes on forever, comparing yourself to some sort of standard that the media has created just to sell whatever product they have. The movie then shows the main character Ellen, a young woman in her early 20’s that has black eyeliner all around her eye and is going for an “artistic” and “depressive” look, because it’s quite popular right now and apparently having depression makes you cool. She goes on by saying rude words and then it’s shown that she has been thrown out of yet another group therapy and in-patient. It’s then showed that she’s smoking cigarettes while being welcomed by her father’s house-keeper. This movie brings out so many good points, one of them being smoking; so many youngsters smoke either because they want to fit in with their group of friends or society or it’s because smoking is a sex thing and doing it makes you look “Hotter” and more “attractive” in this movie Ellen smokes to eat less as many anorexic people tend to do. Ellen then proves to her sister at dinner that she has memorized the calories of everything, meaning that she counts every single calorie she consumes and wants to keep in under control, she seems to have a good bond with her sister. Later we’re introduced to a new key character, Ellen’s step-mother, Susan. Susan has a pep talk with Ellen saying that her father is upset at her and Ellen asks why the father himself isn’t present to express that, Susan comes up with excuses and then asks to weigh Ellen, in the process of weighing, Ellen takes off most of her clothing and Susan is scared and worried that she just looks “too thin”, she then takes a picture of Ellen’s body and asks if she thinks she looks beautiful which she responds with no, at this point of the movie I don’t think Ellen says she doesn’t look beautiful because of how thin she is, I think she says that because she’s not thin enough for her own standards, the thing with these types of disorders is that the person becomes a perfectionist and weirdly enough has their own standard of what is perfect and what is not and so she didn’t think she was perfect because she had probably gained weight in the in-patient she was thrown out of. Later it cuts to Ellen’s parents fighting behind the closed doors and the sisters sneaking out of the house. As I mentioned before they seem to have a pretty good relationship, they laugh about how messed up their family is and Ellen says that she’s probably going to be kicked out of her own house (again, which we’ll get to that) or get sent to treatment, which Kelly gives a respond in a way so commonly used by the people close to the diseased person that don’t have a clue what’s actually going on “Okay, so eat.” to which Ellen responds “I eat,” the thing is that Kelly does actually care about Ellen in the most selfless way possible (as we proceed, there’s going to be a family therapy which I think is one of the best and realistic scenes of the movie since it shows how the family can effect on one’s health and how even one person caring can make you accomplish a lot) because when Ellen says “I’ve got it under control, Nothing bad is going to happen.” She says one of the most iconic lines “How many people do you think are down there? Like, two million? I bet a bunch of them who are about to die just said the exact same thing.”

Fast-forwarding to Ellen getting submitted into a new in-patient and it showing that the new doctor is pretty straight forward that he doesn’t want to give anyone “hope” neither he’s interested in patients that don’t want to live anymore. As she gets submitted to the in-patient, the story begins, the story of rising and falling in life while having a mental disorder. We’re introduced to another major role in the movie which is Luke and other patients that are going through what she’s going through in their own special way. What this movie beautifully represents is the variety of how people deal with having a mental disorder and how it may appear on someone, for example, you may think that someone with a disorder that mentally doesn’t allow them to eat anything to be very thin but we can see an obese girl having BDD. A thing that stands to me is that they never once mention the word “anorexia” by its full term, they might call themselves “rexies” from time to time, but no one wants to admit that they have a mental illness or even admit that they are sick. We see a quite unique group of people, someone who’s “tubed” and lives in “pony-land” even though they might be past their 20’s and is afraid of healing because she doesn’t believe that she’s sick and gets nausea thinking about food, A pregnant lady that got knocked-up by a random guy but wants to keep the baby and has a beautiful line (that even Ellen herself points out) “I just want to think about something besides me for once” which what a mental disorder in my opinion (especially in this case) is about “being too obsessed with yourself, that you think the world orbits around you” and my favourite character, Luke. He’s there because he has a “dream” a “goal” he wants to heal and keeps giving people a new perspective that they should too find a goal in life and try to get better for it. He’s optimistic but you can see throughout the movie that he’s just as broken as the others, that he as well wants to lose hope and die, but for the others he’s comfort, sometimes he might be overwhelming to the other patients as he might get too optimistic and cheerful –something that people with mental illnesses either don’t want to see or even be- but at the end, he’s the one that “saves” Eli (as she changes her name, which props to her doctor cause I really think that that was a really good idea, it somehow is a starting step towards a big change in life) although the doctor was really helpful because personally, I like people (especially therapists) to be straight forward, and their conversation

“I just don't see the point.

- There is no point. Or at least, big picture, we don't get to know what it is. Why we live, why Megan lost the baby, why that girl killed herself.

- You're not reassuring me, doctor.

- I can't reassure you. This idea you have that there's a way to be safe...it's childish and cowardly. It stops you from experiencing anything, including anything good.

- You don't think I feel bad enough already? I know I'm messed up... but you're supposed to teach me how not to be.

-You know, how. Stop waiting for life to be easy. Stop hoping for somebody to save you. You don't need another person lying to you. Things don't all add up. But you're resilient. Face some hard facts and you could have an incredible life”

Was a major breaking point. In the movie Eli’s family play a big role in her life as we can see in the family therapy session most of them are self-centered and want to blame one another for Eli’s situation, her mother coming out as gay to her at the age of 13 and getting a divorce from her father and marrying her best friend, her father not being at the picture at all as we don’t even see him once in the movie because he keeps coming up with excuses that he can’t be there for his daughter that has a big negative effect on Eli as she’s always asking whether her father is showing up or not, two step-mums which show their full support, Susan which she now lives with and is really trying so hard to bond with Eli and is knocking on every door to find a cure for her and Olive that seems to be very strict but kind as well, A sister –Kelly- which I’ve already discussed, that shows to be a very caring younger sister. At the end of the movie Eli decides to visit her mother, they have a really heartbreaking scene in the tent that her mother points out that when Eli was born she had postpartum depression and how she couldn’t hold Eli as baby and she’s regretting it so she offers that she should feed her like a baby (a way that a friend recommended) which at first Eli said no to but then when her mother wants to leave quoting that she accepts if Eli doesn’t want to live anymore she cries out her name saying that she wants to be fed and rocked to sleep.

There are three final points that I want to discuss:

1. The rain scene: doctor Beckham scheduled a trip for the whole group to a place that has fake rain. Rain in the popular culture is a symbol of life and that’s why doctor Beckham decided to bring them there, to show them how it feels to be alive. It was so beautifully painted and I think everyone at that specific moment, even Eli who has a very dark view on life felt amazing and wanted to be alive and most importantly stay alive.

2. Eli’s relationship with Luke: as they get know each other better, they tend to be good friends, finding some same interests and having the polar opposite opinions in life really matched them up. We can see that Luke has known Eli for a while now throughout her paintings and artworks on her blog and Eli was his muse until she took the blog down (because someone killed herself because of her works and sent her a letter). Luke finds out what her favourite candy is and gets her that candy forcing her to smell, touch and then take a bite out of it which she refuses and yells at Luke saying that he shouldn’t be too pleased with himself, Luke then takes her on a date as he has earned points (because he has been eating and gaining weight) which at first Eli refuses but then accepts as Luke says they can walk the whole way and she will gain no weight if she eats, the restaurant scene is pretty intimate, showing how good they’re bonding and how Luke is lovingly looking at her and is sad that she chews the food and then spits it out even though she finds it very delicious and is actually hungry. The second swing scene is where they have an immediate rise and fall, first opening up about things like virginity and sex and Luke asking if she was abused sexually when she was younger which she says the “casual groping” as women tend to grow out breasts and the “slurs” which they both ironically discuss how women are just objects for men –which this was one of the good points the movie brought up, how women get cat-called so often that they don’t even view it as sexual harassment anymore and how it’s a problem in society and how it deeply affects women and objectifies them and we need to shine light on it- he says that she needs to be touched by someone who cares about her and kisses her, as the kiss deepens, Luke says that he’s falling in love with her and that was so irrational for her that she breaks them off and says they haven’t known each other enough to fall in love and Luke blames her on that behalf. We don’t see the relationship getting fixed or better as Eli wants to get out of the house Luke says to her that she’s his only hope in life since his dream of being a ballerina is crushed due to the fact that his knee now needs surgery but she just leaves him to get out. At the end as she has the dream (which is my final point of discussion) we see Luke in her dream and how he helps her survive and come back to the house. (I personally hope they get back together!)

3. Eli’s final dream/coma: after her heartbreaking scene with her mother she takes a late-night trip to the desert as she gets tired and lays down, she wakes up in some sort of after-life (as she has been eating poorly the past few days and she has finally achieved her goal of fitting her arm into her fist meaning that she has lost her hope and there isn’t much left of her) she’s looking healthy and is greeted by Luke pointing out a tree, on the next scene she’s sitting both under the tree and on the tree with Luke, sharing an intimate moment with him and looking up at herself feeling discussed with her now full-of-hope self. Luke asks her to look at herself to which she looks down to see herself lying on the ground, naked, dead, to the bone; she finally realises what she has done to herself and what the effects of her death may be and when she wakes up she’s finally happy to be alive and looks joyfully at life. Now she’s ready to heal, finds out who actually cares about her as she tightly hugs her step mum Susan which she found annoying at first (because she actually cared) and now wants to try one last time.

Final thoughts: This movie was directed by Marti Nixon a woman in her early 50’s which was loosely based on her own life experience and wants to shine a light on a mental disorder that is quite popular amongst women. I think it had a really good point-of-view and discussed so many taboo things in society, such as LGBTQ+ rights, mental disorders and toxic family behaviours. I would definitely recommend everyone to watch it and not take things they have in life for granted and how they should review their behaviour towards life and other people –and how deeply one wrong action can change a person’s life entirely- and take better care of themselves and their beloved ones (as we can see that Eli was an effect from a failed relationship of two people who probably didn’t want kids or didn’t know how to raise one and how Eli blames herself for all that mentioning that she’s not viewed as a “person” anymore in her parents’ life but rather as a “problem.”) And not respond with “you just want attention” if someone opens up about a struggle to you.

-Negin Hamesh 10/06/19, a brief review of the movie “To the bone (2017)” directed and written by Marti Nixon.

#to the bone #body dysmorphia #bdd #movie review #film review #marti nixon

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dahmer · 6 years

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oh pi! at es. ples. ples.

Oh! just, subtle, and mighty opium! that to the hearts of poor and rich alike, for the wounds that will never heal, and for 'the pangs that tempt the spirit to rebel,' bringest an assuaging balm; eloquent opium! that with thy potent rhetoric stealest away the purposes of wrath; and to the guilty man, for one night givest back the hopes of his youth, and hands washed pure of blood.... qtd // thomas de Quincey // Confessions of an English Opium Eater

here’s a man, once ill-tempered of turks and trendsetting vices, speaking to the grand stage of the world fashioned in this season’s epide-mock. a warm, fuzzy coatish wear nestled in the covers. small american towns know these styles too well to count body bags, along cotton pads and china scabs, among mother’s basements and luxury high risers graduating all from the fancy-feels certificate of blues. those roxy pebbles, how they start us so--an endless invitation to long summer warmth that childhood bathtubs and lawn-mower sundays would once bring.

when did the foil side decision set in. was there truly a technique to not waste the evaporated smoke, or just somedaze endless-ego-talk of the mighty soldiers in the opium army of guilt. shame, yes sir! solute to toot, scrap the straw edges as the hours pass waiting for the guy with the goods. were you in california when fent came along, past the liquid patch of time-released days. the recents 16s, 17s, two thousands eighteens. labs grade, synthesizing variations to parade as china. “east coast man, east coast shit. it’s the best ever. no, nah nah bro, i got you. bud took one point, was on his ass for hours. nod on fire.”

did chemists know the china rhetoric will turn fent-for-all. markets of east coast fantasies, oblivious to west coast privileges. of potency. of people. of starry nights in smashing pumpkin music video dreams, riding through hollywood as a secret member of the powder variety. it’s a plague paraded as a epidemic because that word has no world of meaning to the good folk playing their igno-rent; recycling stigmas of junky choice rattling thrillists. despite the proof inside the bottles. the truth in every bottle. in every cabinet. of every person. with every doctor. who ever felt. the normalcy sensation of one of the most blanked words: pain.

pain is surely what that just, subtle, and mighty opium! creates in the hearts of the poor and rich alike. the rich die often in the experimentation state of emergency someone labeled as ‘the opioid problem’--problem? oh lily, you know as much as your wilted leaves and neighboring trees the silly stamp we slap when using ‘problem’ to critically deconstruct something magnificently complex.this ‘problem’ has destroyed empires for centuries. it’s notorious and makes no attempt to conceal its power in narrative recollections of the living authors that have spoke the truths of humanity across language, land, and lives. yet big pharma pulled off opana and roxicodone in the last 20 years. if there’s any declaration of the fools ruling the castle in modern times, this must be the great exemplary act. the profit of pain, oh yawn. i’m sure the academic discourse that has capture this best is brilliant it construction and nature, but what difference does it make in an opiated masses?

i’ve not canceled my subscriptions to the periodical dual tragedies of the early 21st century, as they remain unchanged and unchallenged: (1) a sheer lack of empathy in the common man; (2) the curious and devastating complacency and lack of outrage to what seems to unfold before our eyes, rapidly and carelessly so now that it’s almost as if those navigating the unseen lines of powers that be mock us, appropriately so. if we’re no opiated, we’re not outrage or active either. generalization? yes. but for those who fall outside of this, fight causes that continually reveal themselves as premeditated chess pieces in the political playing field that has seep into dominating the social sphere that delivers use a constantly-running facet of media and targeted, privatized ads.

i am an addict.

i can clean. M knows. some family knows. the weight that has been lifted is ineffably enduring. i’m frustrated, naturally, at the golden years missed. the creativity, the goodness of my heart, kindness of soul, charity, intellectual ability, sincerity, and passionate interests. how they dulled and disappeared. the weight of their reappearance should be the least of my worries, and for now have been. i’m only a week into my methadone treatment program. but my partner knows now. and that was the missing link, that was needed for so long. he left. i stay in the apartment alone. had the worst week. four days into starting treatment, i get arrested on a fix-it ticket that never was completely closed in a difference country because the DMV didn’t inform the courthouse I’ve squared everything away. I was given a new court date to bring this documentation in myself after final payments were made and the matter seemed settled. but the letter was sent to my old apartment, so i was completely unaware a warrant in los angeles was issued. a few short blocks away from my new apartment in newport beach, where M returned for the first time since walking in on me and learning of the addiction that exposure so much (that was the most bittersweet, hard, important, thankful, and devastating night of my life--but revitalizing. I never realize how much everything rested on just M being told or finding out.). I’m almost home, about to see it, sirens go on. get pulled over. second car arrives. i’m in cuffs. call my works, and text M to say I wouldn’t be coming home to give him space.

at this point, i was told i would be transferred to LA that night, and see a judge in the morning. have everything taken care of. but orange county SA jail is notorious for lies and abuse. there was no intentions of this, and i went from holding cell to orange jumpsuit soon enough. smart this time, i disclosed my sexuality. was given a special block, with an actual two-person jail cell. like the movies. my cell mate was great. jason ciega. curious sexuality. talked heavily about girlfriends, but made subtle jokes that went: “when you’re expecting pussy, but life gives ya dick... but hey, there’s nothing wrong with that too.” He vaguely mentioned his sexuality was “whatever”--I respected and explained why I identify as queer. i have some hidden white china fent mix left i snuck in, even after the cavity search. I stressed needing the bathroom for diarrhea, in fear of the 4-6 gram rocks being found. they kept stressing if i had drugs, it would be another charge. but with my profession work title, they didn’t really consider that with me. i hated that i had to use again so early in treatment, but this avoided the sickness. and made me sleep through the day and a half before M bailed me out. when i got celled up with jason, he shared his rations he bought, like cookies and stuff. i shared my china, in very small doses. he still O.D.’d. turned blue and purple, unconscious, eyes behind head. he took off his shirt after sniffing the first baby bit. i snorted probably 30x what he did, and barely felt something, tolerance. his speck had him worried after 5 mins. “I don’t feel it”

I tell him it wait another 5-10 mins at least. he starts ripping up my mattress and sheet to make a pillow and bedsheet. at first i’m scared this would cause the jail keeper to punish or abuse me. i saw it happened. beds are supposed to be returned in the form they were given. but the special blocks for “protective custody” and queers were treated with more respect, out of fear I assume. The regular jail area is a massive shared space with dozens of rows of beds, and people organized and grouped by race and gangs that you must join right away. I was glad I didn’t have to endure that. I did briefly at 19 for an alcohol in public ticket. only spent 4-6 hours in actual jail-orange-suits area after 10-15 hours of hold cells then. realized how racially divided even jails were. but this experience was more pleasant, given the circumstances. before jason began nodding out, he was fun and talkative in an enjoyable well. he revealed a great chest and body--small frame, but bulky build with tattoos. an insecure boy turn nice guy that acts like one of the guys. referenced odd jokes that seemed code for him being a bottom, and wanting sexual companionship if we ended up bunking for awhile. mutual only, of course. i laughed these attempts off. jason was lonely, and i wasn’t there for inmate sex. i’m in love with M, and still spent every moment worrying and texting about him, and what i’ve done to him. how little he knows about this addiction, how much his family might enable him to think narrowly or ignorantly about the realities of this as a disease.

M abandoned me the day I began treated, 2 mornings after he caught me and everything in our lives froze. we sat on the bed that night, side by side, for hours. him crying in his hands mostly, for hours. me frozen in a wave of emotions. i was a fault. i was honest and told him everything. this was the only thing i kept from him, and told him why. the shame, the guilt. the fear. losing him. rejection of me, disposal of my efforts and love from him and his family. he said we needed time apart. i begged him to be there for me, no matter what the outcome was of our relationship, at least in the beginning. knowing this is the most crucial time to have a support system. he expressed things like believing I’ve just been high this whole time, and asked questions that extracted as much shame and guilt as possible. he had every right to. it’s all i’ve see him and his twin ever do. to the point of their older brother needing serious psychological helping, crying out literally shouting how suicidal he is, but they fail to understand how mental health works, how humor and jokes are masks that should be taken seriously. M was hurt most that I lied. I did lie. Not directly, but did lie at times when he asked why i was in the bathroom for so long. It was unspoken, so it didn’t feel like lying. More like protecting, but it was lying. And I will forever be in the wrong.

Going to jail may have ruined any chance of him coming back. And I can’t stand that thought. He doesn’t know what I’ve been going through. How long it took to be honest about my addiction, what steps I took to try to get clean on my own, the lies you convince yourself off--that you can do it alone, that it’ll work out, that you’ll run out of money so you’ll have to stop. My only other treatment attempt told me I must tell M. He’s the closest to me that I love and trust, who is a good influence, not a user, and could be my support system that sees me through this, and can monitor me during the first 3-7 days that are most crucial. M mentioned how he could have come home to find me dead. O.D. we watched docs and podcasts on the epidemic, but they don’t go into how hard this experience is. How withdrawal is considered one of the hardest things a human can possible do in life, and takes incredible amounts of courage, strength, and dedication that M will probably never even experience in his life. The reports just assume people know this stuff. And under-represent who is most likely to O.D. I’ve never come close. I haven’t been high in, years. I used to stay normal. M, and others like him--those who don’t know--don’t understand that. I was never chasing the dragon. I hate the addiction, quickly. I was too smart for it. Too focused and dedicated to have this problem.

But I did, and unless I dose a certain amount, I couldn’t function. Bedridden in the worst sickness imaginable. To those who’ve experience withdrawal, it’s not just the constant, non-stop, extreme physical sickness. It’s the relentless psychological sickness. Torture. That doesn’t even given you a 30 second break. Hearing that your sick for 3-5 days might sound easy because we call it “getting sick” or “dope sick”--but it’s a far worse experience that can even be fatal for some. My finances and lack of wanting to be doped out, nodding and unproductive all day luckily allowed my addiction to plateau at taking a certain amount to stay well, and doing that everyday for over a year. Til I was caught. It would slightly increase, but fluctuate, based on product, potency, and source going around. I never shot. Only snorted, that was my ritual. And when I was stupid, I would smoke. It was a waste, that burned through product much faster. Which meant more money and time dedicated to staying well. The consistent tolerance and dosing makes my chances of O.D’ing incredibly low. If M knew me as an addiction, which he couldn’t--I never disclosed--he’d know this was hell. Torture. Something I spent endless nights up all night wishing, hoping, begging for change.

The fright came from the Friday I got into a detox treatment program. I told him two nights before I needed him for supported. He made a sly remark about “what, you’re going to force me to stay around or you’ll OD and die if I don’t”--but it was among other things, so it was unclear what would happened. And days past, with little words exchanged, but M stayed around. When he returned from work, I was in bed and he has if I stayed treatment. I said yes, but didn’t explain or speak confidently out of fear of him not knowing what these treatments were, how much research I’ve done, how I picked this on purpose with a goal to get off treatment drugs soon too and never be dependent on a substance. He didn’t ask much questions. He shortly said it’s good, then revealed he’s packing up and staying at this parents for the weekend. I froze in silence. He packed and said some of the same narrowed perspective claims from the other night--how my sibling and her spouse are there to help me. M thinks because they’ve both been in AA, and one is an ex-heroin addict in healthy, long-term recovery that they can just drop their full time college, 3 jobs, and toddler to take care of me. They’re wonderful support systems, but the detox clinic described who needs to be around the first 3 days for my outpatient detox, and it perfectly defined M.

But I must respect M’s decisions, feelings, angry, and pain. He has his own healing to do. All I said was that I need support more now than ever, so please don’t forget me. This was in response to him saying I could always call him if I needed something--which was worded in a way that read like ‘call in emergencies, but I’m out.’ So I went through it alone, all 3 days. In bed. I called a friend for xanax, even though you have to be very very careful taking both. I was, and needed to sleep if no one would be there to check on me. At this time, I thought either M felt his hurt and pain outweighed what I was going through, and that’s understandable regardless of my experience actually being a life-threatening disorder. What I wish he knew was that most people who O.D.--the ones on the news all the time. It’s most from relapse. Stopping, detoxing, getting clean. Then a trigger happens, or hope gives up, opportunity comes, or you feel alone and no one cares. Whatever the reason, you return to the drug and take a similar dose, or even smaller dose, than what you were doing before. But your tolerance fades as quickly as it builds, and is different for everything. So most O.D. deaths are simply from people relapsing and taking too much without knowing where their new tolerance stands. Any temptation or relapse could be my last breathe.

I still live in that fear, but I’m motivated and happy to finally get clean. It’s all I wanted, I just couldn’t do it alone. And knew this. The summer realized it most. I spent the summer trying to find the right time and opportunity to tell M. He has no idea how many plans and times and moments I wanted to. Even my trip to NYC. I wanted t come back clean so bad. It doesn’t work that way, You need those in your life who support and love you to help. That’s what a relationship is. It’s like if I was diagnosed with cancer. But social misconception and outdated conception allows this opposite, toxic reaction. Where now I exist in this constant mental cycle that centers on figuring out what to do for M. It would hurt my sister, so that would be my biggest regret, but I think M wants a gift from me more than anything; however, knowing him well, he’d never ask. If I just gave it to him, he’d be free. No more doubts or embarrassments or beating himself up about not knowing or what others would think. No more hating and shaming me. He wouldn’t ever have to deal with it, which is what I realize he wants in life. Where we disagree. I can’t play video games and ignore maintaining healthy efforts all day. He’s made great improvements, but blind to others that allowed him to say hurtful things like without even consciousness of it, but would be shocked and hurt if someone said the same back to him. This created a state where if anything that required him to get up from playing video games in his ‘free time’ (non work hours) is a drag that he resents or avoids at all costs. It cost the friendships built between my closest friends, who love him and he claimed to love them. This constant thread was something I battled with most. I would count the weekends I would spend doing whatever he wanted--hanging with siblings, friends, work functions, friends parties. 11 weekends go by, then one movie night with my friends and he wouldn’t even pretend to want to go. It hurt, but I learned other people’s needs are an annoyance or deterrent to his rightful ability to be glued to the computer. I know this was a big factor in never bringing up my addiction. Already he hated any serious conversations, even if I tried to make them positive about reaching goals. Even mentioning one would cause eye rolls and audible disgusts, vocalizing how he just doesn’t like them or “aren’t good at them”--which never made sense to me. I understand he didn’t like to have conversations that implied he’s less than perfect or right, but it creates this wall around you where no one will ever be able to grow or talk or really improvement your or our lives together. I didn’t think much of it. But now that I’m learning my triggers, I’m not blaming M. It will always be me. But I regret starting to pick up his habits in attempts to try and connect more with him, and be closer. I started playing video games more and more, and all my interests disappeared. There was never a time I played video games that didn’t require going to the bathroom and dosing. I couldn’t live that life. But I wanted to build a life with M. When he stopped talking an interests in sharing my activities, I doubled down with his. But things that felt non-productive and antisocial to me became triggers.

There are other issues that caused distance and perhaps his lack of interest or investment in my friends and desires. One, my addiction. Where my interests began to dull. A terrible cycle that grows like a fungus, and can stem from one activity to get closer, but affect another. Also, I gained a considerable amount of weight. This was before my addiction started, but at a time that M became less physical. Then associated it with my weight gain. This was always curious. All compliments, words of encouragement, positive reinforcement, or sexual intimacy ceased, yet I was expected to work harder on health. I should have, but I never went a period of my sexual life where exercise and health were part of my routine because it continued my ability to have a sexual life. In a serious relationship, taking this element away makes it hard to understand how or if anything would restore such intimacy sense there’s no expression, communication, or honesty from M. Just gestures and small hints. He experienced some weight gained, and when he finally got a job after college--after 8 months of playing video games all day as I worked 2-3 jobs 6 days a week plus went to the gym, cleaned the house, and made dinner most nights for him and our roommate--he took up the gym and has done a great job focusing on getting in shape. I expressed this once, and it was something that was some important and meaningful because it consumed by consciousness, but I still wonder a year later if he understood or truly took to heart pointing out that when he got a full time, professional job and began working out after work, he came home daily needing positive reinforcement, acknowledgement, and encouragement about his gym efforts. Even in the early stages when not much can be seen.

I expressed that before grad school, when I really gained the weight from the stress and demands, I too signed up for the gym after my first, full time professional job after college. On top of this, I continued working on Sundays at a restaurant doing back-breaking labor I underplayed because tips were good. My one day off--Saturdays--I spent putting our first apartment together, shopping, planning, going to every family event or friend invite he extended, while keeping up with cooking and cleaning. During this time, M never acknowledged my gym efforts, progress, or work. I think once he complimented me in a tank, but apart from that, I believe he saw that this was just my role. Expected and easy, like it was nothing to essentially try my best to be the best version of myself, be the best boyfriend I could be, build a relationship together, and not ask for anything in return. This felt like my nature, so I didn’t think much of it at the time.

It wasn’t until I started grad school, and he began what I had already gone through: entry level at first professional job. I don’t know why I’m writing about it now, but it hurt he was doing it in a way that made it seem I had no idea what this was like because of my current shape, and my support was expected, not appreciated. M has never been too expressive, but any acknowledgement or encouragement while attending Gold’s gym after work each day in DTLB would have done so much for my self-esteem, our intimacy, his care and support, or just mutual respect I guess when the tables turned later. I still continue to compliment and support. But the thought is always there. What is it about me and what I do, the effort I put in, that seems just expected. Demanded. Not a privilege or sign of care, affection, and love. But “do your damn job”--but then anyone who does the same or a fraction of the same things has the right to guilt or shame me in not being supportive or caring enough. Why do I just exist to replace the role of M’s parents, perhaps, but my efforts aren’t even acknowledged to the same degree in how M views what his parents do.

The shortcomings are what he’s most expressive about. Like I have a savings account like him, and just not paying for things I literally cannot. I didn’t have my parents pay for college, a car, half my rent, bills, and little things in life M takes for granted. I pay for everything. And even having one or two things taken care of by parents allow young adults to live remarkably more comfortable lives that they’re blind to. They don’t understand the luxury of saving every paycheck because their parents pay for everything else. Or maybe it’s me, and my fault for having interests, and occasionally spending money on exploring interests to acculturate my life. Understanding myself, people, and culture better. Be a strong global citizen,

I don’t know. A lot of these claims are unfair to M. He avoids serious conversations, but most of this has come up. It’s just been treated with silence. When he caught my addiction last week, he kept repeating how hurt he was that I lied about it. He’s right, but I couldn’t shake the feeling... when would I ever been able to tell you and you wouldn’t act this way? Was there a time limit when you would have been supportive? Where you would have stayed and ensured I didn’t die during the most crucial period? Would there ever been a time that you didn’t just dismiss it as all my fault, so shame and guilt are the only things I’ll get from him while I need to seek treatment options on my own. That’s not how treatment works. In everything I’ve read, it says the same thing. This is a family problem. You need support. Loved ones. Care. Compassionate. Understanding. If these were never things that would have been offered, why is the main drive of pain from me lying? I did lie, so that’s valid. But it hurts because I don’t know how he truly feels, and sometimes it just goes through my head that this is the reason he’s been waiting for. I haven’t lied or cheated or hid other things. I’ve talked to other guys online, but came clean when caught. And that did hurt trust between us. But I never lied or hid something when we talked about it.

I write all of this because last night he texted me asking to meeting up this weekend to talk. I get excited because it means, after a week, maybe he wants to just sit and ask questions or express anger or frustrations or what’s on his mind. I send him my availability all weekend, with details. He takes hours to respond, but around 2am he says he’s free Saturday and Sunday. This is Friday night, and I see he’s at someone’s house--probably a party--that I didn’t know of. So maybe he’s drunk, but oddly he responded to my availability with just saying he’s free Sat and Sun--not setting a day or time to meet and talk. I don’t respond. It’s late and he says he’s out with friends since I mentioned I was even free that night back when I responded at 9pm when he first asked if I was free to meet and talk this weekend.

Today the morning goes by and I don’t hear from him, but he sent the last text. S at Noon I ask: “do you want me to pick a date and time then?” No answer.

A couple hours later I tell him I’m going to the gym later, and an NA meeting the next day (Sunday) if he wants to join me at either of those for an alternative meet up option--hopefully implying if he doesn’t want to just chat face-to-face, we can do something healthy that shows him I’m working hard in recovery. No response.

Both texts show read receipts. He read that right away, and Find My Friends shows he’s still just at his parents house. Been there all day, but ignoring my texts. Perhaps he was drunk when he texted me Friday night saying he wanted to meet up. I ran with it too quickly then because I miss him like crazy, worry about it, and just think about him and this situation constantly. Plus he bailed me out of jail for $5K of his own money this week on top of all of this, and that’s the last I saw him.

As the day progresses, it starts to dawn on me. Most of his stuff is still at our apartment. We still live here in how it’s set up, and how he’s briefly used it this week. But he’s mostly stayed at his parents, which is understandable since he needs time to figure out how to make sense of this or what to think... which is how I believe he worded it when he left the day I started detox. I think he said “because he feels conflicted.”

But if his stuff is still here, and he knows my schedule, and I know his, he knows we’re both mostly free Saturdays and Sundays. So he could come home either day and sit down to talk when he sees I’m home, Granted, he hasn’t asked about how recovery or detox is going, or shown interest in caring about how I’m doing. He’s not there, and clearly I’m in a state where I agree in the sense that I worry about him most. He doesn’t express his feelings, and this is not something he can just avoid or pretend to go away. He needs to face it. But then I realize what “we need to meet up and talk” means in a relationship after a major issue happens, and one person moves out for a week, leaving the status open-ended, stating we need time apart, and then gets stuck paying $5k while trying to distance (on top of all the money I own him for rent and impound fees last summer). This talk usually means one thing, and I start to panic. Even more so because he’s dodging my texts to follow up about setting a meeting time and date. If M had the liquid courage to ask, but not is faced with following through sober, it would be like him to just ignore me. And he’s definitely ignoring me. Maybe because he just wants me to suffer or leave him alone. But my fear and anxiety has skyrocketed since last night. I’m consumed in fear with the idea that he’s wanting to meet up to end our relationship. I would understand why, but I realize, despite everything, I really really am in love with Michael. My addiction made me not a great boyfriend to look at or be around I’m sure, but I’m confident the person I’m returning to now that I’m free and in recovery is someone that he would benefit from growing with. Many also have expressed they think this process will help M in the long run too, as things became static and this may needed to happen to reevaluate things and take us to the new heights we wanted and deserve.

M would have a hard time standing up for himself and dumping me, so when I was asking him if I should set the date and time, I starting thinking.. am I actually having to plan getting dumped for him? That’s not fair. This is the most emotional fragile state I’ve ever been in, and although he has every right to make that decision, and reasons to back it up, and not care about actually exercising real support that couples give each other, that’s fine. I would have to just respect the decision. I fucked up. And I knew who M was before we started dating. I just always think.. is he going to find someone else who doesn’t care about wanting basic needs and emotions and thoughts exchanged, shared, and supporting in a relationship? Abandon me, but that wouldn’t make these issues go away. Anyways, no one around him can offer me insight to his state of mind. So I fear the most devastating and hurtful decision and experience of my life is around the corner. Maybe even tomorrow. And despite our lease tomorrow until April, and the life we built together, M may just walk away from it all. Claiming he can’t trust me anymore as the main reason. And that trust is solely from hiding my addiction. Something I see now, given his reaction, why I did.

Jonathon Van Ness, in a recent podcast “Getting Curious” with an addiction specialist at UCLA discusses shame in addiction, and defines it as this idea where “if you knew this one thing about me, you wouldn’t love me anymore.” This definition makes a lot of sense, as to why I could never tell M. If he knew, I would lose his love. And his love was holding me together, and giving me hope that someday I can fix this, overcome this, get help, get better, get fit, be the best version of myself again and beyond.

But now I just wait by my phone, wondering if I should send a 3rd text. The last one was around 3pm, when my day was freeing up for the rest of the weekend. So he could have arranged to meet at any time. Maybe inviting him to the gym or a meeting was too off-putting--like i WANTED that or something. But I just want to give options since just asking for a basic plan yielded no results. I don’t know if I should leave him alone. If he needs more time. If I push, I push him farther away. Or if ignoring makes me feel insecure and think I don’t care or think about him. That I just think about using again or getting clean, and he’s not longer important. This is farthest from the truth. All I want is to not fall asleep alone in bed anymore. I want M back by my side, cuddling me and us to sleep. But even then, I fear or believe that M doesn’t feel he can do that and feel safe or comfortable anymore, even though I think he wants this again too. But the trust that’s missing is something that will come in time. Through my actions. Through my recovery. And if only he were here to hold me, he would understand that my recovery means everything. Not for him, for me. But I am his, so a better me is a better him. I just want him to know he’s loved and cared for. I don’t want him to feel alone, upset, and sad. I want him to ask questions, even yell, shame, guilt. Do what he needs to do. Isolating himself alone in his room at his parents house is not going to help him heal, with or without me.

And for some reason, as I heal, I need to know who I affected most is healing. Because the truth is: I can’t stop thinking about killing myself since this happened. Not because I want to, but because I think it’s the one thing that would end his healing process, and make his life better. Even if it meant I would lose mine. So be it.

#opiates #opioid addiction #opiod epidemic

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brophyblam · 4 years

Text

BLAM Oct. Writing Contest Runner-up

Congratulations to Charlie Judd ‘24 on winning second place in this month’s literary contest with his piece, titled “The Lethe Protocol”!

“Where am I?”

“This is a secure containment facility. For security reasons, I can’t tell you exactly where, but rest assured that nobody will accidentally stumble upon it.”

“Why am I here?”

“Test results show that you have been infected with a pathogen that, if released, could bring an end to Western civilization. You are to be under quarantine until the pathogen has been eliminated.”

“Why don’t I remember anything?”

“That may be a side effect of the treatment. Some slight damage to long-term memory is to be expected. You will likely gain back your memory within the week.”

“And I assume you’ll mark the days somehow? I think I read something about how keeping the lights always on messes up sleep cycles, and-”

“Unfortunately, the lights will not be turned off throughout the quarantine period. Preliminary tests suggest that the effects of the pathogen are heavily linked with circadian rhythms, so the procedure will call for a disruption in that way.”

“How long will it take?”

“That is unclear at this time.”

“Do you know what this thing is? A virus? Bacteria?”

“That is unclear at this time.”

____________________________________________________________________________

The man went to sleep at about 18:00, five hours after he woke up.

“He seems to be adjusting well.”

“That’s just the first few hours. Give it time, he’ll begin to show signs of mental degradation.”

The first scientist smirked. “I never thought I would get the chance to observe such a fascinating case. How long until you think he... breaks?”

“Now, Emily, this is science. We’re going to find out in due time. No sort of gambling or personal interest should be in play here,” the second researcher carefully enunciated. His colleague couldn’t say those sorts of things, not when they were being recorded. He leaned in closer to her and whispered, “I’ve got twenty bucks that say it’s a week.”

“Deal.”

“I’m actually quite hungry. Could you get us some food from the cafeteria?”

“I did it last night!”

“Really? Oh, that’s right. My mistake.” He made his way over to the door.

“Wilson? Remember to get the-”

“Yeah, the paleo option, I remember, I remember.”

“Just making sure.”

____________________________________________________________________________

The man woke up in the bed. It was completely white, as was everything else in the room. That was the most unremarkable night’s sleep he had ever had.

His eyes scanned the room, taking note of everything that was in there. A sink, a toilet, a closet full of white medical robes and nutrient-rich liquid.

He chose to have breakfast. The liquid wasn’t tasteless, but it was entirely unremarkable. Slightly sweet, with an aftertaste of… mango? No, that wasn’t it. His sense of taste was thrown off. It was some sort of fruit, he decided.

He spent the next few hours trying to remember anything. His job, his name, even just a face. Absolutely nothing came to the surface. The time slipped by with no meaning, rhyme, or reason to it, and still nothing. The only thing he could look at were the four blank white walls, which seemed to be a reflection of his own state of mind.

“Are you going to take a blood sample now? Or a mouth swab or something? I’m just curious how you’re going to study the illness.”

“We’ve already obtained samples. It’s just taking a while to determine what they are.”

“I would imagine that the type of the pathogen would be identifiable pretty easily. This is a particularly special case, I take it?”

“Yes, it certainly is… special. The Foundation has the best epidemiological and pathological resources in the civilized world available, and all of those are being put towards this cause.”

“The Foundation?”

“I’m sorry, what foundation?”

“You just mentioned a-”

“You must be experiencing slight auditory hallucinations. That seems to be the first stage of the disease.”

“Oh.”

____________________________________________________________________________

“Emily, what was that?”

“What was what?”

“The foundation thing. You can’t try to flex your false-narrative creation skills here. If you contradict yourself, he’ll get wise and there goes the entire experiment. We’d have to wipe his memory again, and you know it’d be a heck of a time getting the grant money for that.”

“Come on. You really think the higher-ups would risk him getting out there? It would be such bad news for this whole operation if even one person escaped with the truth. Frankly,” she sighed, “I don’t think they’d care about the expense of the mind-wipe if the future of the organization were at risk.”

Wilson sighed. “I just feel like it’s reckless nonetheless. You’d still be blamed for it and you’d probably never get a promotion again.”

“I like my current position.”

“Why’d you do it, though?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing…”

“This isn’t something to be shy about.”

“Well, I’ve always just been a fan of the idea of top-secret science experiments and stuff, you know…? There’s this horror creative writing website that centers around that idea called SCP and… I guess I accidentally channeled my inner nerd for a second.”

“Well, I don’t want your insatiable love for SCP roleplay to get in the way of your growth.”

Emily smiled. “Well, if I weren’t into that sort of thing, I probably never would have come here in the first place. Or stayed.”

“You’re here because they asked you to be.”

“I’m here because I said yes.”

The man chuckled. “Well, I’m going home for the night. Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Scout’s honor.”

____________________________________________________________________________

“What’s going to happen to me? You said this disease could end the world. I take it that it’ll also end me?”

“We’re not sure. As you know, this is still an incipient situation, so we don’t have much information about the effects of the pathogen upon individuals. The information we do have access to, however, indicates that it is highly contagious and possibly dangerous for the world at large.”

The man ruminated on this for a while.

“May I ask your name? I don’t remember anything about anything right now, so it would be nice to know something about this situation.”

“Doctor Angela Johnson.”

“Pleased to meet you, Doctor.”

The man stared at the wall for another few hours and went to sleep again.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Good morning, Emily.”

“Wilson, so great to see you! Last night, I had some rather riveting conversation with our… patient, here.”

“You didn’t let anything slip, did you?”

“Only my amazing fake name. Angela Johnson, M.D. at your service.”

“You use that for every experiment! Would it kill you to be a little more creative sometimes?”

Emily laughed. “You know how Einstein wore the same outfit every day? If I wore myself out creating a new name for every case, that would detract from the energy I can spend on actually helping with the experiment.” She lowered her voice even though only Wilson was around. “Besides, it’s not like this guy could ever report Angela for malpractice.”

“They also couldn’t report, say, Eve O’Deorian.”

“I can’t do an Irish accent! It always just sounds like Crocodile Dundee in an immense amount of pain.”

“Well, it’s time for you to get some rest, guv’na. I’ll take it over from here.” Emily stared at the man through the one-way glass window. “Alright,” she said, “but just so you know…”

She walked over to the silver lab door. “That was Cockney.”

“Ah. Right.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Wilson watched the man sleep. This was the first time he had been given such a large role in this kind of experiment. His official title was “Data Collector and Containment Overseer,” so his job was to monitor the subject, record data, and head the post-experiment data analysis.

Before this, he had been working with Emily as an aide to an analyst who was studying rodent behavioral patterns. Their work in this capacity had been praised as exemplary, so they were accelerated through the ranks more quickly than any other researchers had ever been. This was their first day as “DCCO”s.

The man stayed entirely quiet, without even moving a muscle. He must be in denial about his situation, Wilson decided. This was different from stimulating pain receptors in mouse brains or studying the behavior of infant gerbils separated from their mothers. This is a person, he thought, who can feel true psychological agony beyond simple pain response. Is this really right? He remembered the ethics training from when he joined the organization.

They were given a booklet to go along with the oral presentation. When skimming it, he found a paragraph under the “Ethics of Human Experimentation” section that read:

Many of our researchers grapple with the idea of subjecting human beings to unpleasant experiences for the purpose of scientific advancement. However, within this organization, we choose to go beyond the values of society at large in some cases so that we can gain scientific knowledge unobtainable through conventional methods. This scientific knowledge, in turn, is covertly released back into society. Fear of the law is also a factor in many researchers’ problems with these experiments. However, we assure all our scientists that every action taken within this building is completely exempt from federal and international law. The studies of this institution have been fully and totally approved by the United Nations, so long as the knowledge gained is shared with the world in some way.

This was just words on a page to him when he read it at orientation. He was never one for the philosophy of ethics. As a general rule, he never thought much about whether his actions were acceptable to some unseen force that supposedly ruled the universe. However, now that he was looking at a real human being subjected to total isolation, he felt… dirty. Sinful, almost.

This subject was going to be in this chamber for… how long? The higher-ups never informed him or Emily about when this man would be mind-wiped and released back to his old life. He decided to ask when his shift ended and Emily took over.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Is anyone there?”

A long pause filled the air until a man’s voice responded.

“Hello, sir.”

“Oh. I just wanted to talk to Doctor Johnson a little bit.”

“Oh, well, I guess you are.”

“I mean Angela Johnson.”

“Ah. Well, we share both a last name and an assignment.”

“Okay. That makes sense. Are there any updates on the whole… pathogen... thing?”

“Unfortunately, no. This thing is quite hard to pin down. Top scientists are working on it, though.”

“Good to know.”

“For some… data… would you mind responding to a few questions about your overall health, mentally and physically?”

“Sure.”

“How would you describe your current state of mind?”

“I think I’m just in shock right now. My life, if it goes on from this point, probably won’t ever be the same. It’s just a lot, you know?”

“Yes, yes. I understand. Any physical pain?”

“Not pain exactly, but a lot of… discomfort and grogginess. I feel like I’m at least twenty pounds heavier than I really am.”

“Okay, thank you.”

____________________________________________________________________________

“Wilson, you didn’t fall asleep while checking his vitals, right?”

The scientist found himself with his head resting on a reflective steel desk, being woken up by his partner’s voice.

“Maybe…”

“You’ve got to try to stay awake, man! This is potentially groundbreaking stuff. Nothing to snore at, you know what I mean?”

Wilson groaned. “Emily, we talked about the puns. Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop with the puns.”

“I can’t help it.”

It took a while for the scientist to stand up. When he did, he walked over to Emily.

“Um, can I ask you a question?”

“Fire away.”

“Do you ever think about what we’re putting this guy through? I mean, he’s all alone in there except for our voices now and again. I wouldn’t say that’s exactly a humane thing.”

Emily smirked. “Oh, you tease, you!” She noticed her colleague’s stern, serious face. “Oh, you’re not joking. Well, I wouldn’t have expected you to get all touchy-feely, but I guess I don’t really think about that. Even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy this, the whole world will benefit from this much more than he suffers.”

“We’re destroying his life here! I know this is groundbreaking research and all, but you can’t ignore all the data! Look at Harlow’s Pit of Despair! Look at what that did to people! Don’t pretend like that’s just not particularly enjoying something!”

“Woah, I didn’t expect you to go all Boy Scout on me. Look. You’re not you right now. You’re not acting like yourself. I think the night shift got you all up in your head. Go home, get some rest, and we can continue this conversation when you’re thinking straight.”

Wilson marched out without saying goodbye.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Hello, ma’am?”

“Ah, Doctor Gregory. Sit down, sit down. Have some peppermint.” She handed him a hard candy from the jar on her desk. “How can I help you today?”

“Well, I just wanted to ask for some more information about the isolation experiment I’m performing with Doctor Bueller.”

“Of course. You know, of course, that I can’t provide you with any information above your position.”

“Of course.”

“Good. I just wanted to make sure. What’s your question?”

“What’s the projected timeline for how long this experiment will last? A week or two?”

“Well, if everything goes smoothly, there should be enough resources to keep the subject in the chamber indefinitely.”

“So he could spend the rest of his life in there?”

“Yes, I suppose so. This truly is an amazing opportunity for scientific advancement, no?”

Wilson’s face went pale. “Yes. Truly… truly amazing.”

“Doctor? You seem sick. I think the night shift might have been a shock to your system. Go home, rest up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

____________________________________________________________________________

The man woke up for what seemed like no more than five minutes and then went right back to sleep. The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by a strange man in a white lab coat.

“Come on, we don’t have much time.”

“Okay.”

The man wearing the lab coat pulled him by the arm out a door that seemed to have materialized in the wall.

“Is the pathogen spreading? What’s happeni-”

“There was never a pathogen. This is all a cruel experiment designed to keep you in isolation for the rest of your life. I’m busting you out.”

The man recognized his voice. “Wait, Doctor Johnson?”

“Not really my name. Come on, we need to go.”

The strange man led him down a pristine white hallway lined with the same lights that adorned his isolation room. After a few seconds, another person in a lab coat came out a door.

The first man in the lab coat jerked him to the side, quickly opened a door, and closed it again. They found themselves in a storage cabinet, with ample amounts of medical masks, thermometers, test tubes, and the like.

“I’m keeping the door cracked so I can see. I’ll give the all clear, and then we go that way.” He pointed to the left. “We’ll have to run like all get out, okay? Be ready.”

“Uh, okay.”

Time stood still until the man whispered, in the same hushed tone, “Go.”

They busted open the door and ran as fast as they could. Finally, they reached an elevator at the end of the hallway. The man in the lab coat frantically pressed the up arrow again and again. They were greeted by an elevator, just as white and spotless as the rest of the building.

An old woman wearing that same lab coat was waiting in the elevator, and she cheerily greeted them. “Hello, dears. What floor?”

“Ground level, if you please,” the strange man said. The words were interspersed with heavy breathing and they had a surprising tension to them.

“Excellent choice, dears.” The woman paid no mind to the man’s attire, and acted as though she dealt with things like this every day. She punched in the button with a G on it. The door closed.

Suddenly, she grabbed a pearl-colored walkie-talkie from around her waist and spoke into it.

“Escaped test subject on level B-5, coming to ground floor right now. He seems to have been aided by one of our own.”

The two men looked at each other, all hope dashed within the span of two sentences.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Well, well. How ironic that our best and brightest would betray the organization like this. You knew what you were getting into when you accepted the offer, correct? Why, after all that time and hard work, would you throw it away for… morality?”

“What you’re doing here is wrong! Any decent human person can see that.”

“Only foolish people would think that. In any case, I trust you’ve inferred what the procedure from here would be.”

“You’ll erase my memory, I imagine.”

“That’s just the first part. You see, the Institute has been presented with a problem in recent years. With the omnipresence of the internet in human lives, it’s become increasingly difficult to find people whose absence nobody would notice. As per your agreement from when you started here, you have cut all ties with friends, family, and social media, correct?”

He didn’t respond.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Where am I?”

#contest

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hughshannon1994 · 4 years

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v3-killing-harmony-imagines · 7 years

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‘Can you write the guys with an autistic s/o? Bonus if their special interest is the guys talent!’

Can you write the guys with an autistic s/o? Bonus if their special interest is the guys talent!

Of course! Once again I hope this doesn’t seem offensive ;w;

Saihara Shuichi:

He always tries his best to make you feel comfortable when talking to him. He knows firsthand that social interactions aren’t the greatest thing in the world.

He’ll offer to do all the talking in public if you’d like him too, he’s willing to do anything really.

You have to tell him that it’s ok, and that you’ll never get better at it unless you do talk to people. So he hesitantly, lets you.

The boy acts like a father more than a boyfriend half the time, which you tease him for sometimes (“Daddy~”)

While you can do really well in one subject, any other may not interest you. This proves to be a problem in school, Saihara tries his best to help you out whenever you need it.

You told him one day that you really were interested in the detective work he does, and you wanted to learn more about the subject.

You can see his tail practically wagging- like a puppy- so excited to show you how he does things.

Yet he’s also a bit timid to tell you about the more…brutal and violent parts about it…so he does his best to omit that.

He’s still happy that his talent interests you! He’s always happy to help you learn something new!

Amami Rantarou:

The first thing he notices is that you fidget.

Twirling your hands, rocking ever so slightly in your seat, starring.

Others may find it strange, he just found it interesting.

You usually have specific tastes for foods, he’s memorized which ones you like best and which ones you don’t like at all.

He makes sure to always stock up, to make you happy.

He’s a bit of a picky person himself- he likes things a certain way. It’s just more easier that way.

New schedules, whether it’s for school or not, can be a challenge to get used to. For both him and yourself.

It just makes life more complicated and if you haven’t noticed, Amami really just wants a peaceful and calm life.

You told him you were interested in his talent.

He laughed, “Yeah I’m interested in seeing what it is too.”

“No no, that’s not the point, your talent- it’s a mystery.”

“Yeah, and?”

“All that’s left is you. Your person.”

He thought for a second, the pieces not quite coming together.

You put them in place for him, “Even if you aren’t given a talent, there’s still you. That you won’t change their personality or likes of dislikes.” You pause a second. “Basically I’m interested in Amami Rantaro. I’m interested in how he thinks, feels, acts, sees….does that make sense?”

He blinked, face slowly pulling into a smile as he pulled you closer.

“You’re really the cutest at times you know that?” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “S/o, if you’re so intrigued by me then feel free to study me as much as you’d like. If I make you happy that much, I’m a pretty lucky man right?”

You nuzzled closer, “Right.”

Ouma Kokichi:

“Ohhh, you have autism? Wow, that’s interesting.” He says it with such a monotone voice you think he’s actually being honest- he finds it interesting that the person he likes so much is so unique!

He’s constantly asking questions now, whether out of the blue or not.

“Hey hey, do you like cotton or linen pants better?”

“What about fruits? Do you like cherries or not?”

Ouma, it’s not as if they’re some alien from another race. They’re still human.

“*Gasp* what if my dear s/o is actually the real human?? And everyone else are the aliens??” He clung to your leg, “WAAAAAAAAA S/O IM SORRYYYY!!!”

Drama queen.

In a way, you two are similar. You both like a specific taste for food, subjects, and you’re both not grade A students in the social category.

“Hey Ouma, I wanna learn more about your talent.”

He stopped drinking his bottle of soda, fizzy bubbles dribbling down his scarf.

“S/o wants to know about my role as a supreme leader? Aha, I have to warn you, once you know these secrets I have to make sure you’ll never tell anyone else…”

In the end it lead to a 2 hour lecture about Ouma’s overly dramatic retell of his daily life.

“Seee? Now that you know about it, and are utterly and hopelessly in love with me, you’ll never go tell anyone else!” He smiled, arms hanging behind his head. “Nishishi~ isn’t that right?”

You grinned, matching his own persona “That isn’t a lie.”

He blushed so hardly that he actually needed to sit down for a minute.

Aw, what a precious boy.

Kaito Momota:

The fact that you have autism doesn’t make a difference to him at all!

Your little quirks, the passion you held for the topics you loved, the way you had a fire for the things you wanted to do.

He didn’t find it difficult or a burden in the slightest, if anything, he thought that it was the best thing.

He was spending a Friday night lazing on the couch, eating Doritos in his pj’s.

Then you came in the room, sitting down beside him.

“Kaito, can you teach me about space?”

He’s jumps up, grabbing you and dragging you out the door- insisting that you two are going stargazing right now.

He doesn’t even bother to wipe the crumbs from his fingers nor change out of his pajamas.

He sets up a blanket on the ground, patting the space beside him and insisting that you lay down.

Kaito points out all the main stars and constellations that he knows, the air gets cold, and he gives you his jacket to keep warm in (He does some sit-ups when he gets cold.)

Time passes, he goes onto explaining facts about meteors, space, gravity, the orbit, the axis….

He goes on for so long that you end up falling asleep, under the stars.

When he notices, he stops talking mid sentence, just starring at you for a while under the dim light.

He carries you inside, carefully, (He nearly drops you) and sets you down on the bed.

He places a kiss on your temple before pulling the covers over you, returning back to his half-finished Doritos.

Kiibo(K1-b0!!11111!!11):

He’s definitely always looking out for you.

Although he knows how it effects your mind and actions….he can’t help but wondering….what would it be like if he had something similar?

Would his circuits be dysfunctional? Would parts of his code unsuccessfully travel to his motherboard?

It just makes him wonder at times….

A human with a mental disease is helped, and treated with care.

If Kiibo were like that….not normal, not a perfect robot. He would be terminated. What good is a defective Robot?

He found out you had a passion for computer and technology the first day he met you- in a computer lab the two of you had together.

It’s… nice. To be able to talk to someone as important as you about something important to him that it literally is what his life revolves around.

He’ll talk to you about different parts of his system and circuit board, how he ‘feels’ things, or how he views the world.

It’s very therapeutic for him, after getting teased by Ouma or getting down because other’s don’t view him as equal, he can sit down and talk about his system and how he’s as much of a human as everyone else is.

Cough, of course there’s also anatomy lessons cough if you know what I mean.

Korekiyo Shinguji:

He’s met a lot of humans, a lot of humans that are different in many ways more than one.

He believes people should all be treated just the same, based on their personalities rather than mental capabilities.

Due to this he can get very protective, especially if people use slurs about it.

Death glare in their direction.

He’s glad that he can share his love of anthropology with you, especially since he knows that you have a special interest for very few things.

Sometimes you two will have a discussion about theories on why humans act the way they do, or how their minds work.

Other times its more of a vent session, both of you describing how you feel and why…

For you it’s more focused on your frustration, your frustration with your illness and how you can’t do this or you can’t say this or that….

Both of you help each other out, promising to be there for each other, sharing soft kisses in the late hours of the night.

Gonta Gokuhara:

“While it’s difficult for Gonta to understand about Autism at times… Gonta thinks you’re an amazing person, no matter what! Gonta loves you very much!!”

While you treated your condition like nothing, Gonta treated it as life or death.

Does S/o need help? Is S/o struggling with this? Does S/o need Gonta to read it for them?

After a while (and some talking with him in private) he eventually learns that you won’t die because of it, and that you can handle yourself on your own.

But, it is nice to have the support of someone.

So Gonta makes sure he’s the best gentleman he can be for S/o!

Because you have a special interest for bugs, Gonta makes sure that every day he shows you a new bug!

Explaining what they eat, how they live, different part of their body.

He’s overjoyed that you have such a fascination for bugs! Gonta will make sure to show S/o all the bugs he can!

Every time you two go on walks, he’s pointing out different bugs, in the grass or on trees.

(You get a lot of stares by others in public but Gonta doesn’t care that much)

Ryoma Hoshi:

Well, everyone has something different with them right? He definitely has his.

Yours just happens to be autism.

It really must suck to be stuck with your mind, he thinks.

But you still manage, and he admires that about you.

He definitely wants to help you out with what you’re dealing with but….he doesn’t know if he necessarily could… He might end up making things worse…

But he still tells you if there’s anything troubling you, he’s always open to listen. He might not be able to help but he can provide advice, maybe.

He was texting you one day and the topic of tennis came up, he doesn’t really play much anymore but…he’s still got the muscle memory, some of it at least.

Then you brought up how you wanted to play a match of tennis, and he asked you if you wanted to go for a match? He could teach you?

And then the winded up at the public court an hour later, lowkey regretting initiating this.

He teaches you the basics, how to serve and toss and hit back the balls and different techniques that he’s learned over the years.

The sun moves, and by the time you two call it a day he’s soaked with sweat, his muscles are stinging and he the water tastes so good as he gulps it up.

It reminds him of his younger years, bouncing from side to side, the cheering fans, the adrenaline.

He won’t admit it, but he misses the sport.

He waves goodbye to you, looking forward to the next time he can go back and play with you.

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legendarycollectorengineer · 5 years

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EZRA POUND, THE DOW JONES INDEX.

FINANCES, THAT SPECIALIZATION

IN HISTORY OF HYSTIRIA

In the year 2001 the Dow Jones index of New York Stock Exchange fell to 7,926 points. This does not say anything if we do not know that before it was about to hit the 12 thousand points. A Drop of almost 35%

"The 10,000 to 11,000 point increase took the shortest time: 24 days during the early spring of 1999."

It soon recovered to reach the 12,000 points , in 2006, it spent 1,879 days and an infamous war supported by thousands of lies, deceit, subterfuge and cunning against the world and especially against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq.

It is currently at 19,173 points, with an annualized drop of 26.22%

I remember those data because in 1999 I was working in Infosel, then a financial news service in newspaper " Reforma ", later sold to Terra, the Spanish company that ended up closing.

Now it appears on the web @ as a Mexican portal, who knows who its true owner will be, no longer seems to have links with "Reforma".

https://www.infosel.com/

Then I had to arrive before half past five in the morning to monitor global stock markets, especially Asians who at that time had closed, the Europeans opened. And calling New York to ask for an updated price of the dollar in Banamex, at the moment.

All such information I had to summarize into a radial capsule launched into to air at the station Azul 89 every five minutes. The first came out at seven in the morning, the second half hour later, and so on until eight thirty.

I had been studying financial astrology for months, with some past dated bulletins that a gringo company sent me as promotion to sell their services . By the time I was in Infosel, I had already caught up with the issue and could predict small movements in the Dow Jones index , which earned me the nickname among the editorial staff chums of "satan".

I could not get them to buy a subscription to those newsletters of financial astrology, so I kept studying in the non updated editions as they came.

It happened one day that I arrived a little earlier because from five thirty onwards my car was no longer circulating, if I remember correctly it was a Monday. As I turned on the computer in the empty newsroom and started monitoring the latest world financial news, I came across the debt moratorium statement of governor of the Brazilian province of Minas Gerais , Itamar Franco , who had knocked down the markets and in Mexico still no one knew.

I called Joel Martinez home whom now was my boss. We met at "Expansion" where I was deputy editor of the magazine and he financial analyst in the analysis report.

That was in 1986, Joel had just been divorced or separated, I don't remember those details, but we ate together in a small restaurant in the Mixcoac area. He talked there when he was a militant in Mexican Maoism, telling several lurid anecdotes from his almost militant Maoist guerrilla.

Then I found him in "Reforma" as deputy director of an Infosel area, he was something very different, even going to Masses organized in the company’s chapel, by Junco right there, and "inviting" us to attend.

When I called him at his house, I told him we had that scoop. People moved fast. Joel came to the newsroom still half wet from the bathroom and obviously clumsy, I remember someone from the radio station interviewed him. So we got on air with news of what was later called the "Samba effect" ; taking down like dominos international markets and currencies against the US dollar.

My work in Infosel was stressful, poorly paid, modest and little envied because the capsules project had been started by me, for that I was hired, but as a result of the "Samba Effect" news scoop and the umpteenth devaluation of the peso that accompanied that six-year term of Ernesto Zedillo and Pedro Aspe, his Treasury secretary , yes, that guy who declared that unemployment in Mexico was “a great myth”, the radio capsules program took off in an impressive way and several began to plot to take my place. So they gave me the sack at the end, without compensation, as “Reforma” was one of the first business with triangulation contracting, that is now called "outsourcing".

Before leaving I remember I told them that experts in financial astrology predicted a fall on the Dow Jones below 9 thousand points, to which one called "the Nazi" (you can imagine the mentality of this sneak) “No man! How do you think ... It would take us to hell. "

In 2001 the controlled demolitions of them buildings of World Trade Center, in which we were able to see a couple of nonexistent planes to all who watched television, managed to show with a satellite engineering project "Blue Beam", the Dow Jones index fell down to 7,926 points.

By now it’s public domain the den of thugs “Reforma” is and what kind of criminals, their owners are.

Ezra Pound wrote about the Great Depression began with the fall in global stock markets in 1929 and lasted, in its aftermath, until the mid of the thirties to in many countries:

" Economics is such an irksome and boring matter it is very difficult interesting people in it ... until they begin to suffer a bad system.

We, artists, have been always unemployed, and we laughed about it, but now begins to affect the small artisan, the employee, the doctor, the lawyer ... "

The current collapse of world financial markets was something largely expected, because they had been artificially inflated with tricks and traps made by the a few.

That perverse world of rigged finances corrupted everything; a fairly characteristic example is the art world. Much of the crap they want to present to us as "art," at terrific prices, simply serves those financial speculators to safeguard ill-gotten gains cheating in stock movements.

What we are seeing now is the disarticulation of the bobalization, that thing sold to us since the end of the eighties as "globalization", the close economic interdependence of countries against autarky.

In Mexico we never fully managed to reach autarky, I think the last sincere effort was made with import substitution policy, back in the distant six-year term of José López Portillo. But as we know, corruption, impunity, influentialism, malinchism and the lack of power of the people have eaten everything.

The crisis in financial markets seems to have no end, it is likely that it will begin to recover a little by the end of May or the beginning of June , at best, when the heat does its thing reducing the virulence of the disease caused by the crowned bug.

At a bad time this grabs us in Mexico, when social programs and government investments are just beginning to have some inertia.

The vast majority of rabid opponents of Mexico's current government now have yet another reason to attack it, as with the collapse of financial markets, their gruesome businesses and financial transactions are suffering doubly. And it is quite certain that, when this crisis subsides, they will no longer be able to return to their privilege levels, despite the money stolen and hidden in tax havens.

In the rest of world, we will return to virulent nationalisms and a possible fragmentation of the European Union after this great crisis.

Countries like Hungary, which never joined the European Union, nor adopted the euro as their currency, have achieved better performances in practically all areas, including social ones. Now they already have an incentive program for families with more children, to replace their native population and not depending on immigrants as cheap labor, that euphemism to call modern slavery, forced by circumstances and encouraged by powerful tycoons without scruples like George Soros.

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