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doing-all-write · 5 years ago

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the art of flirting on a hover board pt. 2

Ivy runs a successful arts non-profit and Joe tags along when Rami and Lucy go to visit her. But what happens when a simple bet made over a hover board competition gets out of hand?

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Ivy (OC)

Rating: Rated S for Stupidity (we love friends who share one (1) collective brain cell.

Warnings: None!

Here’s part two! I hope you all love it!

Part 1

Any comments, notes, love, hate WHATEVER you got for this, let me know!

Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated bc I crave validation!!!!!

"So then, I'm up there, I'm telling them my story, pleading with them to realize that the arts matter and that's when I see Charlotte off to the side frantically trying to tell me my dress had come open and my whole bra was out."

Rami bursted out laughing, Lucy let out a gasp and Joe clapped his hands in mirth as Ivy shook her head at her own bad luck, "I swear, it was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me."

Ivy's fingers worked to secure the rope they had found around the axle of the skateboard. Joe couldn't stop thinking about her hands and what they would look like doing other activities.

Like, holding his hand.

Or wrapped around his dick.

Either one was fine. He wasn't a picky man.

"So what did you do? I mean, how do you even recover from that?" Lucy wondered aloud, as Joe shook himself from his thoughts and went to take a drink from the beer Ivy had distributed to them all.

Ivy shrugged as she sat back on her heels and brought her own beer bottle to her lips, "Well, we got the most donations we've ever received so at this point I'm considering just doing a strip routine to get more money." Joe started choking on the drink he had just swallowed as the image of Ivy stripping crowded into his mind to take up permanent residence.

Rami whacked him on the back.

Ivy's eyes flicked up to meet Joe's as her eyebrow quirked up in a silent ask of You good? Joe nodded and flapped his hand around in the universal gesture of, Keep going, don't mind me dying.

"I mean, everyone still teases me about it but I make jokes about it more than anyone else. You just laugh at yourself. Make a few memes, bing, bang, boom. It was over and I still got those old geezer's money so I'm not super upset. And besides, what's a few memes in the grand scheme of things?" She inquired as she stood up, wiping her hands off on the backs of her shorts as she looked right up into Joe's eyes and smiled.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine and besides, I couldn't have died without seeing some of those memes that you just talked about. I mean, you can't leave us hanging in suspense like that." Joe retorted as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Ivy's eyes flicked down to his biceps even as her brain kept repeating over and over "don't look at his arms, don't look at his arms" and mentally cursed herself for being so weak. She felt her cheeks heating up as she realized Joe had DEFINITELY tracked her eye movements. He quirked an eyebrow at her as she tried to salvage whatever of her pride remained,

"I'm pretty sure Gracie has one of them framed and hung up in her office, I'll show you." Okay, not a great save of the ole pride but memes are better than blatant thirst she thought as she smiled at him and watched a matching smile grow across Joe's face.

The moment between them stretched on as Lucy's gaze bounced between the two and tried to subtly let Rami know that he should keep his mouth shut so he didn't ruin the moment.

Rami, however, missed these cues and kept looking back and forth between the two, feeling very much like something had just happened that he was not meant to be a part of. His mouth opened when he felt Lucy, who realized subtlety is overrated, stomp on his foot.

"OW."

Joe and Ivy's gaze was ripped apart as they both glanced at Rami who was glaring at Lucy who had widened her eyes to max capacity and was suddenly very invested in the molding around the ceiling.

"Sorry, I, uh, bit my tongue." Rami offered weakly as Ivy cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

"So. Anyway. Yeah. That's about as exciting as my life has been the past few months. Some performances, writing songs, running the business, the usual." Ivy said nonchalantly as if running a successful non-profit was just another boring life event, like visiting the DMV.

Ivy suddenly whipped around to Rami as she dramatically pronounced, "But what about YOU Mister 'I'm an Oscar winning actor' like what the FUCK?" as her eyes bugged out and her fist collided against Rami's shoulder.

Rami rubbed the sore spot as Joe barked out a laugh. Rami narrowed his eyes at Joe as he held up his hands defensively, "Sorry man, it was really funny." His eyes slid over to Ivy's where she met them with a smile.

Fuck, he would never get tired of that smile.

"So, are we testing this thing or what? Because I believe she's ready for her maiden voyage." Ivy declared as she tugged on the length of jump rope one more time to test its tautness.

"Yeah, my life is FINE, thank you for asking. And so is my SHOULDER." Rami announced to no one in particular.

"Oh I'm sure you're fine but if you're so hurt maybe you shouldn't ride this-"

Rami pointed a finger at Lucy, "Don't you keep me from doing this. I've waited so long to get here. Do NOT take this away from me."

Lucy held up her hands in surrender as Joe and Ivy snickered.

"SO." Rami rubbed his hands together as absolute glee washed over his face, "Lucy and I try it first? Then you and Joe?"

Ivy looked at Joe who looked back at Ivy, "Hell yeah. The dream team here is going to CRUSH it." Joe held up his hand for a high five and Ivy smiled as she slapped her palm against Joe's.

She wrapped her fingers around his hand and held on as she turned to Rami, 'This originally wasn't a competition but we're going to kick your ass."

"Oh it's so on. Let's make this interesting."

"Name your terms Malek." Ivy said.

Joe was doing his best not to move so Ivy wouldn't let go of his hand and Lucy was practically quivering with suppressed excitement.

Ivy was very aware that she was still holding onto Joe's hand but really didn't want to let go as she realized how long it had been since she had held hands with someone who actually gave her butterflies and not grabbing onto Gracie or Ava's hand when she saw a particularly stunning picture of Harry Styles.

Rami was lost in thought as he tried to think what would be the worst thing he could do to Ivy if she lost this arbitrary competition.

"Hmm. Okay. Got it. If whoever's on the hover board can stay on longer than either Lucy or I can, then you get to post whatever picture you want on my Instagram with whatever caption you want."

Ivy's eyes lit up like a Broadway marquee at the idea of using Rami's rarely used Instagram to post one of the many embarrassing throwback photos she had of him.

"Alright Malek, but if we lose, which we won't," she squeezed Joe's hand again to emphasize her point and Joe prayed his hands weren't too sweaty, "what do you get out of this?"

"I get to schedule a date for you with whatever guy I choose."

Joe had never seen a human lose all color in their visage so quickly as he did when Ivy heard Rami's terms.

"No."

"Yes."

"Rami, no! That's my personal life! You can't go messing around in other people's lives!"

"Oh, so giving you access to my Instagram account is what exactly?"

Ivy made some various noises that almost sounded like words and finally sighed, "Fine. I agree to the terms." She let go of Joe's hand as she wheeled around to face him, "We have to fucking win."

"Well, we better. I have some absolutely delicious behind the scene photos of him that need to see the light of day."

~~~

"Ready?"

Ivy whacked the side of her helmet and shot Joe a thumbs up as she prepared to lift her other foot onto the hover board.

Rami and Lucy stood off to the side, red-faced and sweaty after having raced down the path they had decided on and back.

They had walked to a park that was close to the organization. Rami and Ivy had argued over a path for five minutes, and would have gone on all day but Lucy stepped in to say if she wanted to listen to an old married couple arguing she could just listen to Joe and Ben talk. Once the path had been declared, Rami and Lucy had gone first.

Rami's screams, as Lucy took off like a shot once she got her balance on the bike, had caused every dog in a three mile radius to start barking. They had made it halfway when Rami got overexcited and his cheering caused him to fall over.

Which then caused both Ivy and Joe to sing simultaneously, "Another one bites the dust" which then caused Lucy to run the bike into a tree because she was laughing so hard.

Needless to say, Ivy and Joe were both feeling confident about their abilities.

Joe gave Ivy a grave salute, "If this is our last time serving together, I just want to say, it's been an honor."

Ivy gave a stoic nod back, "Likewise, sir."

Joe faced forward and took a deep breath as Rami and Lucy counted down,

"FIVE"

Ivy wiped her hands on her shorts.

"FOUR"

Joe cracked his neck.

"THREE"

Ivy sent up a call to the universe to not let her fail.

"TWO"

Joe sent out a silent prayer that he wouldn't be the reason Ivy broke a bone.

"ONE"

Joe's legs tensed and Ivy stepped up onto the hover board.

"GO"

Joe took off like a shot and Ivy's arm that wasn't holding onto the rope pinwheeled as she desperately tried to keep her balance. She was all of a sudden overwhelmed by a memory of trying to surf and falling more times than she could count.

Not the best time to be thinking of that she thought as she used her core in ways she never would have thought to use it.

Joe kept his focus on the path in front of him. He didn't dare look back for fear he would lose focus and cause Ivy to fall off.

Ivy was starting to feel more stable when all of a sudden she felt much lighter, the sky seemed much closer and her feet were no longer attached to the hover board by gravity.

She landed with a "FUCK" and a thud that had Rami and Lucy freezing for just a second before racing over to her.

Joe heard Ivy swear and realized the bike seemed much lighter. He risked a glance behind and saw a heap on the ground and an empty hover board. He was off the bike before it even stopped the whole way.

"No, no, no, no, fuck! Ivy, are you okay?" Joe cried as he reached Ivy as Rami helped her up into a seated position and Lucy was feeling her arms for broken bones.

Ivy groggily looked up at Joe, "'m okay. Must have hit a hole. Not your fault."

Joe reached up and gently unclipped the helmet from her head, "Well, at least you were wearing your helmet. Safety is key when doing stupid stuff."

"Safety and stupidity notoriously go hand in hand" Ivy offered him a weak smile as Joe smiled warmly down at her.

"Well, I don't think you have any broken bones in your arms." Lucy reported.

"Do you think you can stand?" Rami asked as he looked at Ivy with concern.

Ivy nodded and took the arm Rami offered her to pull herself up. She gingerly put weight on one leg, then the other and when neither buckled or felt like anything was severely wrong, gave a soft thumbs up.

Joe let out a giant breath, "Thank god."

"I'm so glad you're okay." Rami said as he wrapped an arm around Ivy's shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"Thanks Rami, me too." Ivy murmured as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"And since you're okay, I don't feel guilty for doing this." Rami said as he took a deep breath in, pointed at Ivy and Joe and yelled, "WE WON. IN YOUR FACE." Rami grabbed Lucy and spun her around as she laughed.

Joe rolled his eyes and Ivy groaned, "Sorry I bit it super hard and let down the team." She bit her lip and kept her eyes glued to the ground.

"Hey, no. Ivy. It's no big deal. I'm just glad you're alright." Joe said. He leaned forward and back as he contemplated whether he should hug her or not. Ivy made the decision for him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

'Thank you" she whispered as Joe hesitantly wrapped his arms around her waist and tried not to breathe in her perfume too deeply. He wanted to remember every detail of this moment.

How her body felt pressed against his.

How her arms felt around his neck.

How she smelled. How warm she was.

How he never wanted to let her go.

"IVY. You better get ready for your date!" Joe and Ivy's eyes snapped open as they remembered what the consequence of losing was.

A soft chorus of "fuck", as if from a profane angelic chorus, was heard from their embrace as Lucy and Rami continued celebrating.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzelo x reader #joe mazzello one shot #joe mazello fic #joe mazzello fluff #rami malek #rami x lucy #lucy boynton #part 2

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noxus-the-venomous-blog · 6 years ago

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Part 3.02 Where is your head?

“This is a joke right?! I literally just came from the Science Division,” Ed said in frustration.

“And they sent you here? They radioed us saying they sent the load to engineering but needed something else taken that way.”

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!”

“Calm down poison puff,” the rank two grumbled with little patience left, “it means you need to head back to Science and get the new load, should look like a clipboard, then take that to Engineering who will give you the package for Science as well as the new keycard you’re going to need.”

“Wait… Isn't this Engineering?” Ed felt a slight twitch in his eye. His heart was beating like a war drum.

“Nooooo this is S Division. It's like a legal department.”

“So I have to walk all the way back to the first cave elevator?” he sighed admitting his defeat. When he had signed up to infiltrate this place he expected an exciting game of psychological cat and mouse, instead of a ridgid trip to the proverbial villainous version of the DMV. Or was this the cat and mouse game?

“Don't go all the way back to the elevator, that's the long way. Follow the signs for H Division up around P Division. It takes you the back way. When you get to H, turn around by the smoke fountain and head down the corridor between the mess hall and the lazertag center.”

“Wait there's….nevermind. Ok I’m on it.”

“Also, gimme five bucks” the rank two said with a serious set of eyes peering over the respirator.

“Is… This a robbery?”

“Nah man. I forgot my lunch and I totally just spent like 10 minutes helping you. Gimme five bucks.”

“Ok fine,” Ed handed him the money requested, still completely sure this was just a robbery. Then off he walked, following the directions given by the rank 2 from the Subversion Division.

The place was entirely too complicated. He made his way as far as he could go following colored lines on the ground but each of them led to buckets of paint, where apparently someone had forgotten what they were doing and walked away. He then checked a map posted on the mall. After studying it for a few moments he realized it wouldn't help him. It was a map of the eastern New York area. Why? He was ready to give up until he saw someone with a full face mask. Ed knew little about the complicated rank system but the rule of thumb was the more mask the more rank. Hopefully.

“Um, hello?”

“Yes,” the masked rank 3 said to him.

“Yes what?” Ed stammered.

“Just looking on the bright side! So where is your brain thinking it's going?”

Insane… “Science?”

“That's by the elevator. Just go past the poison mushroom field, and cut by…”

“The weird corner with the jugglers and crap that's what i thought but someone said going around the smoke fountain is faster” Ed insisted. He wondered if his tone was bad for speaking to a superior but at this point he was grinding his teeth into calcium powder.

“The jugglers aren't weird… Anyway why would you walk away from science and think its a shortcut?” the woman said, tilting her head as if the helmet was heavy.

“I just…. Basically paid five bucks for wrong directions i guess”

“People make mistakes when they’re hungry, come with me lost little lamb” she insisted, dragging his arm to the cafeteria. The day was about to become a lot longer. She slowly introduced him to each member of the food prep staff, a dull looking bunch who seemed eager for the two of them to grab a tray and leave. She then gathered him and a few other new rank ones and made them each say something positive about themselves, but the rank 3 kept getting distracted and instead doubling back to the same two after repeatedly complimenting their hair. She then dragged him to the entertainment corner where she taught him to juggle. This was the most surprising part of the day since he actually picked up on it quickly, and despite his deep frustrations, realized he made a competent juggler. The joy of this was vacuumed out when she saw a cloud of gas and made Ed chase it, claiming this was a stamina building, motivational exercise. He couldn't see the supposedly running cloud of gas she referred to so what actually occurred was him running in circles while the Rank 3 woman laughed at him and shouted directions. She was in the middle of telling him to use a stranglehold to subdue it when Ed noticed a familiar face. James ran up to the two of them.

“Division leader Haze,” he said panting, “forgive my interruption! You are needed in the laser tag room right away!”

“Oh no what is it?”

“Someone looked absolutely depressed. They kept talking about being hungry and not sure if they should love or believe in themselves.”

“GASP!!!” haze said instead of actually gasping “IM ON IT! You’re on your own for now little lamb. But before i go.” she held her hand to out in front of eds face, “look at this interesting glove,

He stared at it for a moment, having a hard time focusing with it being so close to his face. The moment he saw the small distinguishment on the palm, a tiny hole, it was too late, as a little puff of mist shot forward and into his face and eyes. The toxic effect of the mist muffled the noise and lights around him. She leaned in “Edward… Where is your head?” She then did a hundred and eighty degree twirl and began skipping away.

He turned around slowly. The steady rhythm of ambient noise around him began to go off beat. Sounds of people talking in the distance melted into a blur the footsteps all around him seemed to multiply into a dark applause. He was nearly in a panic until an arm on his shoulder jolted him out of it.

“Hey she won't be distracted long, get to wherever you need to go.”

“Yeah… I have… Who is she?” Ed mumbled.

“That was Haze. She's not so bad once you get to know her, just very….. supportive. You doing ok? Im guessing you didn't expected to get sprayed your first day.”

He steadied himself against the wall. “I feel like i'm going to fall over.”

“It wears off quick,” James added, “you likely just got a little dose of what they call the happy spray. After a while you learn to love it, like a morning cup of coffee. Although it was Haze, so small chance she used the clown spray. No one enjoys the clown spray….”

“Clown spray??” Ed said gasping. He was just thinking he was ready to tap out but if there was any doubt in it, any question of whether or not he was in over his head, it was just clarified in two words. Clown spray.

“If it was i imagine you would have noticed by now. Anyway you said you were headed to Science so get over there before she comes back. “

Ed began stumbling away, had he said he was going to Science? Had any of that conversation even happened? He can remember the conversation but with each step he took it seemed more like he made it up in his head. He made his way backtracking the way he came, wondering if he had passed the jugglers or not. But why? Why was he thinking about them. Why does he know how to juggle? Where was he going again? That's right, to the Science room. Hadn't he just come from there? He kept walking hoping someone would run into him. Hoping someone would hit him to the ground and stand over him and explain who he is. He nearly got his wish when he was knocked to the floor by running into a rank two who he hadn't noticed had stopped walking in front of him.

The decently sized man leaned out a hand to help Ed up. “Thanks i jus…” Ed was cut off by holding a finger up to silence him. He then pointed at one of the nearby tv monitors. The image on the screen was a thick swirl of moving green smoke. It all slowly faded revealing Noxious leaning forward in a dark room. Ed had seen this person many times when being briefed for his mission but the descriptions seemed outdated based on what he was seeing now. The masked figure leaned into the camera and began to speak.

“What is fear? We all have things in our life worth being afraid. I'm afraid of failing. I'm afraid of letting many people down. This is why i try harder. In each step of my life i was afraid of how id make the next one. This is what guided me cautiously through a dangerous world. Fear and concern can aid us, but when insecurity is present then our fear loses its beneficial nature. Insecurity makes us hesitant. Insecurity makes us doubt. Insecurity drives us to more dangerous roads as we seek to run away from the causes. What causes insecurity? Violence, despair, needless aggression, needless hostility. A world where people shout. A world where people take for themselves and give to no one. A world where a fair chance is a contaminated concept.” Ed looked around the wide open courtyard to see that everyone had stopped and this entire little underground city had halted to give attention to the various scattered monitors bearing their overlord’s face. If evil was a feeling he sensed enough of it around himself to grow sick with it.

“What makes people so selfish? What makes human beings so hostile? It's not our broken souls, or a broken culture. It's a broken brain. Can't it be said that the people who prevail in such aggression are just doing so out of their own insecurities? If you have depression people encourage you to get treated right? Well i have seen this world and diagnosed it with aggression. Lets help it. Lets get it on a proper medication cycle. Let's cure this flawed world so it can't hurt us any longer. Breathe deeply friends...” The monitors shut off one by one.

“I'm new here what was that?” he asked the large man he had accompanied in watching it. The man said nothing, merely offering a thumbs up and walked away. Was this one of the so called “quiet soldiers” he was warned about? He still felt trapped in his thoughts from that spray but at least the weird brainwashing tv message had him distracted long enough for some of the side effects to wear off. It was time to get serious about why he was here, and so off he rushed to the Science department.

----------------------------------

“No.” the mousy rank 2 said, not even glancing up from her keyboard.

“I don't know what that means,” Ed said in frustration.

“You don't know what no means? That's a terrifying thought.”

“No i don't know why you’re telling me no. i was just sent here from Science, to S Division and then back again.”

“That's your problem. The so called ‘S Division’ isn't around to give you the good directions. You were here this morning and we told you in detail to go to Engineering. If you took advice for others along the way that's your problem.”

“Is there anyway i can just speak to someone in charge?”

“This isn't a department store puff. You can't just… You know what. Nevermind your timing is great. We have three division leaders right over their and i'm sure they have all the answers you need,” she said slyly, gesturing her hand to wave him off. He went passed the reception desk and towards the back room she referenced. Half way down the hallway he felt a wrenching in his stomach, lingering effects he assumed of the toxic spray. It drained his energy and made it feel impossible to think or even stand. He fell to his knees and puked on the sterile white flooring.

“You’re lost little girl,” a woman told him. He could only see her boots.

“I'm not a girl...” ed stammered.

“It's a metaphor,” the woman corrected.

“Lynn that's not a metaphor.” A second set of boots joined. He still only had the strength to look at the floor he had sullied.

“Actually CT, Its a reference so technically it falls under symbolic language” a third voice insisted, again accompanied by another set of boots. This time the voice sounded male.

“Thanks DD, although i think were crowding this poor little puff,” the one called Lynn said. They all then took a step back in a unified manner that Ed found to be robotic and unsettling. With the extra space he took a deep breath and stood up. Before him were the three division leaders. From dossiers he could put together who was who. The one known as Lynn was recognizable from the propaganda videos. The other female was an easy puzzle to solve since he was in the Science Division and the division leader used the monicor ChemTrails. CT. The male however was a coin flip. The Dossier had multiple names on file for the three known male division heads. This DD one must be one of them. Still though, a bit of prodding would come off as curiosity not investigation so he decided to prod.

“Who are you guys?”

“Guys and girls. Or so i can tell,” DD chimed.

“‘Guys’ can be gender neutral nowadays,” Lynn said adjusting a valve on her suit.

“Objectively it cannot.”

“But contextually it can. It’s a word devolved into sland,” CT added, “also none of you are answering the poor puff’s question. I'm ChemTrails, of the Science Division. That place you seem to have spent all day trying to walk back to. This is Evo-Lynn of Propaganda, and The Diabolical Mr Dave of Engineering.”

“A pleasure to meet you… um… Ed?” DD smiled, his mask hanging from his neck gave him a more laid back and inviting look then the rest of them. He had a charming smile but Ed couldn't help but feel like he was being played.

“How did you know my name?”

“You’re damn near famous today. The video is going around of you sitting on Haze’s shoulders juggling like a pro.”

“Oh right…” Ed had no memory of this. “Wait why do they call you Diabolical Dave or whatever?”

“The Diabolical Mr Dave, you have to say the whole thing to really get the effect. It was a college nickname and with my current line of work i figured it was appropriate enough to keep.” Dave said, further unsettling Eds now fragile sense of what was even happening.

“This is all a lovely chat by the water cooler but before we regail ourselves with any more wonderment, Ed, do you have the part my people gave you to give Engineering?” CT asked, “Since DD is right here we can skip the walk,”

What was she talking about. Was he given a part? In all the chaos of the day he had forgotten exactly why he was ever sent to engineering. Is this why there are so many unfinished lines painted on the ground? Are the fumes of this place so mentally infesting that everyone here is doomed to just wander aimlessly from one task to another? Is this the paradise the Noxious Agenda promises? A world so sedated it can't war but neither can it function? And if this is the WAIT WHAT’S IN HIS HAND? ITS MACHINERY AND ITS HEAVY HAD HE BEEN CARRYING THIS THE ENTIRE TIME AND NOT NOTICING? WHAT IS THIS PLACE??

“Yeah this. Thanks champ” DD said with a warm smile. He took the large part and brought it over to a desk. CT followed and Ed saw this as his chance to leave until Lynn grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the table as well. Their DD added components to the device one by one as it started to take shape.

DD leaned in, placing each part carefully on. “The attachments are magnetic and self bolting. The magnet holds the legs and establishes a current. Once the legs feel that current they rotate the small bolts, holding it in securly. With a press of a button it can remove all of the legs and dismantle itself. The legs can pop off in seconds and be replaced with tracks or even gyros for flight!” Ed was fascinated by this small machine. He had seen drones before but this man DD described it with such childish glee that he couldn't help but look at it with the same excitement.

“What controls it?” Lynn questioned.

“Artificial intelligence,” the proud Engineer said. He noticed a worried look on Eds face so he reassured, “not likely what you’re picturing rank one. It’s AI in the way that i programed algorithms and it finds its own data. Much like a popular online search engine. I collect data from the personalities of people randomly found around the lair and then let it manifest into a code for the drone to follow. Watch,” he leaned over and flicked a small switch.

The robot stood up and a gritty simulated voice began to speak, “NOXIOUS AGENDA! GAS THE SHOUT IN A WORLD THAT PEOPLE!”

They all stared with wide eyes. DD reassured, “this is expected. It uses the words people here use most. It seems weird but as the code refines it will be less eccentric”

“RANK ONE DETECTED! SUCK IT PUFF! CURSE YOU NEWB!” the robot then shouted at Ed as a small cannon emerged, a small flame sparked from it and then much larger jet of fire shot out, scorching the Eds clothing. In a split second CTs mask began to move and swish, then a small liquid tendril protruded out the side and across the room, grabbing the fire extinguisher and returning it to Chems hands as she put out the burning spy.

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!!!” Ed screamed from the floor.

“Just a flaw in the coding… It is a prototype” DD confirmed.

“No no no… Did an arm just crawl out of that mask??”

CT leaned down in front above Ed “Sometimes you don't want to be on a short list of people who know certain things. Especially if people in the future ever want to make that list shorter.”

“I told you you’re lost little girl,” Lynn said. Ed made his way out as the three of them giggled and spoke about the potential of the robot. This was surely valuable enemy data but he was having no more of the three of them. He made his way to a quiet alley between cave walls and a dark building. His daily objectives were a complete failure. He never bugged the servers, never checked out the exits and never made visual confirmation of this cult’s boss, unless a vague image on the screen counted. Did it? Likely not. He can only assume he’s been too intoxicated for any of his report to carry validity. None of the challenges in this hellish place were predicted and thus none of the challenges met. He was ready to start crying at the anguish he had felt when he heard encouraging words.

“Jeez Eddie why the long face?” A man said next to him. He hadn't noticed anyone sit down but at this point company wasn't the worst thing he could have.

“Today's my first day and all i'm doing is messing up. This is all just too much i feel like i can't breathe.”

“That sounds like anxiety, friend. That's normal for a first day. Do you know what causes anxiety?”

“Yeah all these OH MY GOD YOUR A CLOWN!!!” he shouted, nearly falling out of his chair at the sight.

“Now that's not very nice Eddie. Anxiety can be one of two things, a chemical imbalance or an effect of over stressing circumstances. Do you feel overstressed friend?”

“I… Yes i do.”

The clown leaned in and put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you feel like you spent the whole day not doing what you planned to?”

“Yes exactly. I can't get my thoughts straight. I feel like such an idiot.”

The clown leaned in further. “Whose side are you really on…”

“Wh...what?”

The clown leaned back, relaxed. “You can't call yourself an idiot like that. You might be venting but your brain will always take it serious. Don’t be against yourself. You had some setbacks but you learned from ‘em right? Tomorrow will be another day”

“You know for a clown you got some pretty good advice,” ed sighed.

“Why do you keep calling me a… Oh right, clown spray. Let me fix you up” the clown then reached into his massive gag pockets and pulled out three small colored vials and a tiny machine. He examined each vial then put them in the small device. He punched in some numbers on the side of it and the machine began to vibrate, mixing them together. He leaned the machine towards Eds face an a small gas release came out of it. The instant he inhaled a portion of it his head felt like it was on fire. He lost control of his muscles and his head fell into his palms, doing everything he can to not fall of the bench he was sitting on.

“Breath Deeply Ed, this will fix you,” the former clown said, his voice now more raspy and muffled. Ed summoned what strength he could to raise his head to the man, but the clown was gone, and replaced with something much worse. The modified gloves, the glowing mask, the shoulder vents. This was Noxious. “You'll be ok Eddie. Just keep doing your best here and who knows, maybe we will grow on you?” The boss said before getting up to walk away.

SUPERSECRETSPECIALOVAENDING

DD “how long do we have to keep being mean to the rank 1s?”

CT “wait were we being mean to all of them? i thought it was just those two new ones”

Tranq “its just the one called Ed. we are attempting to draw them out.”

DD “oh.... i have a lot of crispy rank one’s to apologize too.....

#original content #original character #original fiction #original story #Noxus

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dahmer · 6 years ago

Text

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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xgoldxnhour · 3 years ago

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There was no doubt that this was the giddiest she had been in a long time, humming a soft tune as she looking through her choices. The place was a mess as some others might’ve gone through here to find their share of pickings. Even looked like there had been a few squatters as she found a makeshift bed in the back corner, but nothing to indicate they stuck around long. Though the idea left a undeniable knot in the pit of her stomach, immediately looking back to see where Sam was. She caught the slightest tinge of sadness, though she shook it off as a reminder of the state of the world and how this wasn’t merely a shopping spree.

It came to mind multiple times a day, swirling around what if’s and could’ve beens if they were to have met before. Would it have happened on a night out, maybe popping into a bar with no intention besides having a few drinks and heading home for the night. But, maybe he’d had been doing the same thing, nursing a drink or two as she takes a seat. She couldn’t quite imagine who would make the first move, but she knew it would result in a fit of laughter and giggles as it often does when he speaks. The whole butterflies fluttering and glinting eyes and whatever else normal was back then when it came to falling in love. Of course, she takes every moment they share with the utmost gratitude, but sometimes there’s a slightest wonder. Different scenarios. Bookstore. Farmer’s market. Making jokes in line at the DMV.

Dating. Getting engaged. And married in a little chapel with all their loved ones. Photos is what she dreamed of most, wishing that she could just take pictures of them together or the candid ones of when he’s focusing intently in the garden or sawing a new piece of wood for the barn that she specifically thinks is incredibly sexy. The photo that she might have kept as a lock screen with them together at the beach, Sam kissing her cheek or even the cheesy chaste kiss that she always made fun of with her friends who got married and were undoubtably head over heels. Now—in the midst of ruin and forgotten memories—she could only wish of something so futile.

El couldn’t even look at the toy section as the sheer idea already brought tears to her eyes, thinking of the excitement as well as anticipation if she were ever lucky enough to have kids. And with Sam? It couldn’t have been a better dream. But, yet, this world has swallowed anything that holds any sense of promise left and she assumes someday that the world might just die off and rest in its destruction and somehow regrow again. She didn’t grow up with a mother, so, the fear that if she were to raise a child, she’d somehow fail and have it grow to resent her for even bringing it into this forsaken tragedy. How cruel of her to even dream, imagining the tiniest little toes and finger nails and sleepy eyes, waiting to see something filled with such wonder. Even the cries and the getting up at night and the restless nights. She hoped—prayed for it all. If she were have found Sam earlier—maybe—

El finds him immediately at the thought, though in search of a distraction as she displays the clothes she scavenged and saw the pile he laid out. Far more practical than she did as she didn’t even think about rain coats and boots, though that seemed to be the one thing back at the house that fit him were the old man’s farmer’s boots. But, eyes light up at the choices, immediately picking up the yellow shirt with Winnie the Pooh. Had she told him that her middle name was her mother’s, Gwendolyn, who often went by Winnie? She must’ve or he just had such a knack of knowing her from their conversations through the walls. It felt like a lifetime ago. Bright blue eyes find his, absolutely beaming, as he’s looking over her choices and brings the Hawaiian like shirt up to his chest.

“I think you’re ready for runway, baby.” The nickname has become the most natural thing she’s ever done, obsessed with the word and the smile that begins to curl on both of their faces at its yearn. “It’s actually…kinda sexy. Only on you, of course.”

She might borrow the shirt from time to time if he chooses to bring it home as a quick throw on in the morning when she’s not fully ready to get dressed entirely. Though she did catch a little pajama set that cinched at the bottom, most likely barely meeting above her naval and the cutest shorts to pair—already hidden in her backpack to be brought out later.

“It’s working, isn’t it?” El coos as pulls her by her waist, taking the hat from him and resting it on her head with a bright, toothy grin, continuously mentally pinching herself that she gets to share this life, even as dreary that it could be, with someone as kind, loving and funny as her Sam. The fact that anyone could still harness such brilliance in this world as he does. Lucky was barely enough to describe what she was when finding him, hell, even being loved by him.

Hands hold at his arms as he detangles through her hair that has only gotten wilder since their little staycation at the farmhouse. Mouth opens almost in shock, coughing out a laugh at his words, unable to hide slight blush that tints her cheeks. “Somehow even with that foul mouth, you’ve reeled me in. Must be that rod of yours.” They both dwindled into puddles of quiet laughter, tears streaming down her face as she can’t seem to stop, thinking how ridiculous they were. “We’re worse than porn. I hate us.” She laughs.

xgoldxnhour:

Tired, worn eyes awaken as neglecting responsibility can no longer be ignored with food on its last ledge. She might’ve woken up once from whatever demons nestled in the caverns in her sleep, nuzzled against her lover for a means of unattended comfort without trying to wake him. It always helps some, the subconscious grip that he holds by merely being in his presence.

Their conversations that morning are dwindled to the softest of whispers, bracing touches and soft mumbling groans that they have come to decipher easily even in a little over a week as they leave their safe abode before the sun rises. El is tempted to fall back asleep against his shoulder as they drive, but fights the urge with forceful will—though the nerves do a tremendous job on their own as all she can imagine is a sudden ambush coming at every turn as if their captors have been waiting for a moment for their guard to be dropped. Somehow she believes that their last captivity was almost merciful compared to what they’d do to them if they were caught.

However, despite deafening qualms, luck remains near—some invisible rabbit’s foot tucked between oversized pockets as fuel is easy enough to find along with a basket full of bulbs that sits hidden in the back of their borrowed truck, easing the tension that builds for just a moment.

She holds Sam’s hand the rest of the way until they park near the thrift store, immediately taken back to the times this sort of stop was a regular occurrence on a Sunday. The greatest bargains that she’d later look up the original price online just to see how much she saved. A hobby, she’d have called it. Now, it was just another notch to survive.

Every noise causes her hair to stand up, head turning to each sudden movement as many is disregarded as wind or the environment succumbing to their footsteps. Her heart is ringing in her ears, even once they safely make it inside and is practically shaking until steady arms wrap around her and a calm rests within his voice—speaking encouragement they’re forced to believe for their own sake. They need to reminder or else she might forget. Finally, they can breathe, nestled in one another’s arms as she finally can take in their surroundings. Calling the place a mess would be putting it kindly, but there’s still plenty to peruse with ease, hopefully finding a few more options that’ll hopefully replace pants held by suspenders and burlap sack looking dresses in highlighter colors.

El hums a laugh as they ready to bare a mirthless goodbye to well borrowed attire that at some point she might sadly miss. That day won’t be today. “Good riddance.” She chuckles, leaning in for a quick kiss before turning him around to quickly check the size of the pants he currently has on to have a reference point to go under. “You sure you don’t want those snakeskin pants? If anyone could pull it off. I mean.” She smirks. “Find me something nice, will you, baby?” Another smirk as El smacks Sam’s ass with another soft laugh—anxiety dwindling to small pangs, going off on her little scavenger hunt.

Walking over to what used to be the men’s section, El rummages through boxes and racks of clothes, finding anything that is at least wearable. A sum pierces her lips, muttering a song she might’ve remembered some semblance of a tune—though the show is merely for herself to pass the time. From time to time, they pick up a few finds just to show the other, mustering fits of giggles. Her arms are nearly full when she returns to Sam, the biggest smile on her face as she holds up her pile of finds. “I got options!”

Amongst the treasures are acid washed jeans, some quality farmer worn jeans that’ll fit far better than the ones he currently wears, some plain t-shirts (both long and short sleeved), and the most bizarre graphic ones that invoked the brightest giggles. Coors Bud Light tank-top. Grumpy from Disney’s Snow White. Fresno State. I love my girlfriend (yes, she bought me this shirt). Big Foot Sighting. Some plaid shirts, but her last one she hands over is a light blue button up with sail boats and palm trees. “Have I told you that I have a thing for fishermen.” As she hands him his final piece of runway fashion possibilities, a baseball cap rests in her hand from the bottom and she immediately sets it on his head.

==========================

It’s strange to think this is not only their first time in a store together, but in truth it is their first time visiting anywhere together. Having escaped the compound and their prison cell railcars, they had fled directly to the farmhouse and had not dared ventured beyond it together since, until today of course.

Her request to find her something nice, punctuated with the pet name ‘baby’ has Sam smiling fondly at her as he watches her shift over to the sale racks. In truth it makes him wonder what it would have felt like – to meet before the fall, to have been a couple then, one that might frequently go out shopping together, without the fear of death lurking around every corner. It’s a strange sensation really, to feel so at ease around her and yet so simultaneously unnerved by their shared surroundings. Before they met, he only had himself to take care of, but now, well now Eloise is his entire world and nothing matters to Sam more than her safety, nothing.

Moving over to the woman’s section, Sam methodically moves from hanger to hanger, picking out things he thinks she might like, that suit the warm season and will likely fit her. Some denim shorts, a pair of orange low-cut converse, a yellow Winnie the pooh t-shirt, a white wile e coyote v-neck t-shirt, a pale blue button-up shirt, the kind he can imagine she’ll tie up when working in the garden and a night-shirt made of soft cotton that he figures will come down to just above the knee. Of course, he throws in more practical options too; some black skinny jeans and a dark sweater, a green rain jacket, thick socks and a pair of Doc Martins that don’t look too beat up – the kind of clothes she might need to wear if they find they have to escape undetected in the middle of the night.

Pulling something out from the rail that he thinks might be a crop top, he discovers that it’s a pink cotton baby grow, one clearly made for a newborn. Staring at it, touching the little feet, Sam swallows hard, uncomfortable with the way it makes him feel – he always wanted to have children of his own, to be a father, to build a family and yet in a world like this it seems a dead dream, something only to mourn. How could anyone possibly raise a child in this dead world? Admittedly, it is not something he has spoken to Eloise about and so he hastily hangs it back on the rail before he is witnessed staring so sadly at it.

When they finally re-group to trade options, Sam can’t help but smile. That ‘Grumpy’ Snow White t-shirt was clearly made for a kid and will likely sit just above his navel, but perhaps that’s what she likes about it. The Big Foot shirt he particularly adores, mainly because he used to have a shirt very much like it. Looking at the light blue button-up with the palm trees and boats, he can’t help but spot the matching shorts out of the corner of his eye, retrieving them he places them both against his body with a wild laugh; they look ridiculous together and it makes him love the ensemble all the more; that’s the thing about walkers – they don’t give a shit what you wear.

Taking the cap off his head, to better inspect it, he shakes his head with a laugh, “You want me lookin’ like a good ol’ Florida boy, huh?” He jokes, reaching for her waist to pull her close. “I love it.” He whispers, rocking her in his arms, his hands moving to shift up through her unruly curls as he gently detangles them with his fingers. “Fisherman huh? Maybe I’ll get myself a few lures and a set of waders…imagine these hips clad in thick industrial plastic…

…that get you ‘wet’?” Unable to keep a straight face, Sam bursts into quiet laughter, still not daring to make too much noise and risk attracting unwanted attention - in a town like this you’re likely never quite alone.

#mettleborn #sam: tell me the story of how the sun fell in love with the moon #samuel silas #v: this is the way the world ends #((these twooooo I’m dying they’re so cute))#((also whoops this got so long 😂))

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midtownvaledictorian · 7 years ago

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How I Chose to Feel Better

When your relationship with Harrison falls apart, it’s the most unexpected person who comes to your rescue

(2,750 Words)

Warnings: drinking, language, smutty smut

A/N: ok I made Harrison seem like SUCH A BAD GUY but it was the only way to make this request work lmao PLZ DON’T HATE ME

Harrison and I were once the perfect couple. Every single day was perfect, so long as it was with him. Hell, even going to the DMV could be a blast if he would accompany me. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t picture what our life would be like: a bunch of kids, a big country house in Southwest London, and eventually growing old somewhere on a remote beach. That was all before he started prioritizing other things. The two of us would go out almost every weekend, c’mon, we were British for fuck’s sake. We would get completely wrecked, then poor Tom would have to drive us back to our apartment where we would have beautiful, loving, and filthy sex.

But when I went back to school, he started going out by himself more. I understood out first, I was home studying a lot and didn’t expect him to always stay shut in with me. But I couldn’t help but be suspicious when I would see that Tom was home on his Snapchat story, but Harrison was still out. I had asked Tom about it a few times, but he was just as clueless as I was. “He got in an uber the same time I did, did he not go straight home?” Would always be his response. Once, I tried turning the tables, telling him that I was going out with some friends. Things got so ugly so fast. Before I knew it he was accusing me of cheating on him. It was an absolute screaming match before he stormed out. He came back two days later, sobbing for forgiveness which I quickly gave him. He always blamed it on stress, but we both knew what it really was: alcohol. He had a serious problem, but bringing it up only brought more fights, so eventually I just left it be. I was especially worried for tonight. It was Sam and Harry’s nineteenth birthday and Tom was throwing a huge party for them. Huge party meant lots of alcohol and lots of boys, which also meant a very drunk and jealous Harrison. I was finishing my makeup when Harrison walked in, “Jesus Christ Y/n, you’re seriously wearing that tonight? What, are you trying to leave with someone else or something?” I was taken aback out first, but then I saw the bottle in his hand and it began to make sense. “No, I’m trying to let you have the hottest date at this party. Ready?” I asked standing up from my chair. We were walking out of our bedroom when I noticed his phone still sitting on the dresser, “Oh, babe,” I said grabbing it. The screen lit up to display a new text from a girl named Liza: you’ll be at the party tonight right? maybe we can sneak off for a while ;) “You almost forgot your phone.” I gave him a fake smile as I handed it to him, even though my heart was breaking. Tonight wasn’t the night to start a fight like this though, the boys would be so disappointed if we didn’t show. The car ride to Tom’s felt like an eternity. He tried placing a hand on my thigh, something that used to make me beg him to pull the car over so that I could have my way with him, but this time it made me want to throw up. I simply crossed my legs, causing his hand to fall of my thigh, and continued staring out the window. Finally, we reached Tom’s. Before we went in, Harrison grabbed my arm, “listen, no funny business in here okay? I know how you can get when you’re drunk, and I know how other guys will get with you in that dress.” “Of course, babe,” I cooed, fluttering my eyelashes at him, “if there’s one thing we have, it’s loyalty.” I gave him a quick kiss before swinging the door open. He had know idea what was coming for him. Sam and Harry greeted us with open arms. I gave them both a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, but I made sure to kiss Sam closer to his ear, a sweet spot of his that he had admitted to me at a party once. I could feel him gulp at the feeling of my warm lips against his skin, pulling away I gave him a suggestive smirk. I’ll admit, it was kind of evil of me to do this to Sam, but everyone knew that he had a huge crush on me, and I was in the mood for revenge. “You look amazing,” Sam stuttered out. “Well thank you, baby. Harrison here doesn’t like my dress much. Do you?” I asked innocently. “Yeah it’s great,” he was practically drooling. “Watch it, mate. It may be your birthday but I’ll still kick your ass.” Harrison joked, but I knew the warning was more directed at me. “I’m gonna go talk to Sarah, have a good time babe.” I made sure to swing my hips a bit more than normal as I walked away from them. I quickly found my girlfriends who were already completely wasted. They were handing my shots left and right, and before I knew it, I was completely wasted as well. Every once in a while I’d glance at Harrison who was almost always on his phone. The idea of him texting Liza made me livid. Out of no where, I stormed out to the balcony. I was on the verge of tears as I realized there was nothing I could do at this stupid party that would hurt him as much as he had just hurt me.  “Everything okay?” I spun around to see Tom. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” I stated bluntly, praying he would just leave me alone. But instead, he came and stood next to me. “How are you and Harrison?” There was such a long, awkward silence. Was I supposed to lie? Normally I would have, but the vodka in my system gave me the confidence to be honest. “He’s cheating on me, isn’t he,” he looked at me with the saddest look in his eyes.  “I don’t know for sure, Y/N. I’m sorry, and I know I shouldn’t say this, but you deserve better.” “Yeah, I do.” I said coldly, walking back into the party. I could hear Tom sigh behind me, I could tell he felt bad for me, even he knew that Harrison wasn’t treating me properly. And that was all I needed. All bets were off. Harrison was going to pay. Somebody Come Get Her was playing as I got inside, a genius idea popped into my head. I found Sam and grabbed his arm, leading him over to my group of friends who were standing by the dining table. “I have a birthday present for you,” I whispered in his ear before grabbing a few of my friends and hopping up onto the table. Three of us were dancing on the table, specifically taking advantage of my short dress, I made sure that Sam would be able to see right up it. His cheeks were getting red, watching the spectacle. Eventually Harrison saw me, he’s never looked so angry before. He started making his way over to me, I was so focused on watching him that I didn’t realize how close I was to the edge of the table. Eventually, my heel slipped off and I fell right into someone’s arms. They had two tight grips on me as they tried to help me stand, one on my arm, and the other on my ass. I looked up to see Tom, half smiling at me, but then— “What the fuck man?” Harrison had finally made his way to the scene, and we were in an incriminating position. “Harrison chill it’s not at all what it looks—” Before he could finish his sentence, he was sent stumbling backwards from Harrison punching him. “Harrison!” I screamed at him, but I could tell he was completely blinded by jealousy and beer. “I don’t wanna hear a damn word from you.” “You can’t just do shit like this, what the fuck were you thinking?” “What the fuck were you thinking, huh? Dancing on a table like a little slut. What, were you trying to fuck my best friend and all his brothers? You’ll have to wait a few years for Paddy but I wouldn’t put it past you.” “Who’s Liza?” At that, Harrison’s face fell. He knew I knew, and there was nothing he could do to get him out of that situation. “Have fun with her, it won’t take long for her to find out that you’re a pathetic, cheating drunk.” Harrison stepped towards me with an indescribable rage in his eyes, and I was terrified. But luckily Tom grabbed my arm, pulling me behind him. He looked Harrison dead in the eyes. “Get out of here mate.” Harrison scoffed before walking towards the door, before leaving everyone at the party with a nice, “Fuck all of you,” and smashing a beer bottle on the floor and walking out. I was in complete shock of the actions of the man I used to love so much. “Lets go calm down,” Tom said to me quietly before leading me down the hall. He sat me down on his bed and kneeled in front of me. “Are you okay?” I just shook my head. I couldn’t even find the words. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. He has a serious problem right now, but you shouldn’t have to deal with that.” “I loved him, Tom. I really did.” “Did?” “Not anymore. You don’t even know the half of what usually goes on.” Tears started welling up at all of the horrible memories. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. No actually that was shitty of me, you can cry if you need to, I’ll stay with you.” He sat next to me and put his arm around me, letting me fall into his chest to cry. “Why are you so nice to me? Shouldn’t you be calling me a slut with Harrison somewhere?” “I love Harrison, but I love you too, Y/N. And I know who’s right here, and I know who needs me more, and that’s not him. And to be honest, I’m pretty pissed at him, I always thought he was better than that.” “So did I. God I made such a fool out of myself trying to get back at him.” “Nah, you’re fine. Besides, you really did make Sam’s birthday.” He said chuckling. “One down, three to go,” I joked. “God, can you imagine?” “Imagine what?” “If we… ya know,” I don’t know if it was the alcohol, the anger, or the sense of comfort he was giving, but in that moment, I needed him. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. He seemed startled out first, but temptation gave in and soon he was kissing me back. He let his hand rest on my thigh, the other making its way up my body to cup my face. He pushed us back onto the bed and started kissing me harder, I could feel the need behind his kiss. “I’ve always wanted this,” he whispered in between kisses. I furrowed my eyebrows, “You’ve always deserved better than him, you deserve someone who could treat you like I could.” I was certain that it was the alcohol talking, but the feeling of him latching his lips to my neck made me want to believe him. He pulled himself on top of me, situating himself between my legs. I didn’t even bother trying to suppress my moans when he started grinding against me. Each movement of his hips caused my dress to hitch up further, and soon the only thing separating us was the thin fabric of my panties. His hand barely brushed up my thigh has he moved my panties to the side, just resting on my entrance. He broke the kiss to look me in the eyes, looking for my approval. All it took was a nod for him to push inside of me. The feeling sent me reeling, I threw my head back into the bed and clawed at the sheets above me. Harrison and I hadn’t been intimate in so long, so the feeling of him pumping roughly inside of me left me seeing stars. I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, “wait, wait, wait, Tom,” his face left the crook of my neck to give me a confused look, “I want you.” I started palming his erection through his jeans, but he definitely didn’t need anymore help to get hard. I tugged at the hem of his jeans, he got the hint and began unbuttoning them frantically. He kicked his jeans and boxers off before pulling my dress over my head. “Holy shit, you’re so beautiful.” There was a smile on his lips as they pressed against mine. Reaching between us, I stroked his length a few times before guiding him to my entrance. “You’re sure you want this?” He asked, I could tell he was being sincere, and this unfamiliar kindness made me want him even more. He slowly pressed into me, I had to bite at his shoulder to keep from screaming. I wasn’t used to being with someone as big as Tom, and I let out a loud whine when he finally bottomed me out. His abs were clenching, I could tell that all he wanted was to slide out and slam back into me, but he was waiting for my go ahead. “Give it to me,” I breathed into his ear. He shuddered before ramming into me. Damn, dancers really know how to use their hips. It didn’t take long for the first orgasm to wash over me. “Fuck, Y/n,” he moaned as I clenched around him. But he wasn’t done. In fact, the moans of my orgasms only motivated him to go harder. My nails were dragging down his back as I bit him roughly on his neck and shoulders. His grip on my hips tightened, enough to leave me with faint purple bruises in the morning. Curses slipped through his lips as his thrusts became harder and lost his rhythm. He pulled out quickly and collapsed into the crook of my neck. His hot liquid pooled on my stomach before he flopped onto his back beside me. “I’ll grab you a towel,” he chuckled before disappearing into his bathroom. He tossed me a towel before he slipped into a pair of sweats. When I got cleaned up and offered a sweatshirt which I happily pulled on, putting that tight dress back on was the last thing that I wanted to do. “There are still people in your living room, you know.” I reminded him as he laid down next to me and pulled the covers over the both of us. “Yeah, Harry will kick them out eventually, lets just stay here.” I knew I should’ve left, guilt started washing over me, but the light kisses Tom kept leaving on my cheek as we fell asleep were enough to push the guilt away.

I woke up with a start. I remembered what had happened last night, but I kept trying to convince myself that it was all a bad dream. “What the hell have I done?” I muttered to myself. Tears started welling up at the reality of it all. My light sobs woke Tom up. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Tom asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “God, we’ve fucked up, Tom. We’ve really fucked up.” “No, we didn’t. He hurt you, you can’t blame yourself for how you chose to feel better.” It was true. What did I owe him? He cheated on me. He treated me horribly. He was the one who ruined us. I let out a defeated sigh before searching for my phone. It was nearly noon and I had a new text from Harrison: I don’t expect you to forgive me, ever. But you deserve to know that I’m checking into a rehab center tonight. I have a problem, Y/n. I see that now, and I wish I would’ve seen it sooner. I’ve ruined the one thing that mattered most to me. I love you, Y/n. Tell Tom thank you for taking care of you last night, and that I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll see you guys in a couple of weeks, goodbye. What the fuck have I done.

#tom holland smut #tom holland #tom hollandxreader #tom holland imagine #Peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman #marvel #marvel fanfiction #smut fanfic #smut #spider-man: homecoming

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charliejrogers · 7 years ago

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Best of 2017

Below is my list of the 40 best movies of 2017. Why 40? Because that’s all the movies I saw. In full disclosure, I have a life and must attend school so I didn’t get to see every notable release this year, so if you’re wondering why Thor: Ragnorok, Coco, Mother!, Jumanji, Justice League, I Tonya, Disaster Arist, or Blade Runner aren’t on the list… it’s because I didn’t get to see them. And also in full disclosure, I did get to watch the first half of Battle of the Sexes but fell asleep for the second half. That fact is not indicative of that film’s quality - I was just really tired when I saw it - but it didn’t feel right rating a movie I’d only seen the first half of. So without further ado, here’s my list.

0.5/4.0 Stars

40 The Little Hours

1.5/4.0 Stars

39 Guardians of the Galaxy 2

2.0/4.0 Stars

38 Beauty & the Beast

37 Okja

2.5/4.0 Stars

36 The Trip to Spain

35 A Ghost Story

34 Kong: Skull Island

33 Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

32 Dunkirk

31 Logan Lucky

30 American Made

29 Lost City of Z

28 Phantom Thread

3.0/4.0 Stars

27 It

26 Lady Macbeth

25 Ingrid Goes West

24 Call Me By Your Name

23 Spider-Man: Homecoming

22 Detroit

21 Brad’s Status

20 Logan

19 Wind River

18 War for the Planet of the Apes

3.5/4.0 Stars

17 Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi

16 The Meyerowitz Stories: New and Selected

15 Get Out

14 The Post

13 Wonder Woman

12 The Lego Batman Movie

11 Darkest Hour

10 The Beguiled

9 Mudbound

8 Shape of Water

4.0/4.0 Stars

7 Sanctuary

6 The Big Sick

5 The Florida Project

4 Baby Driver

3 Columbus

2 Good Time

1 Lady Bird

Do you disagree with the list? Well check out below to see my thoughts on each of the films.

40 The Little Hours

This movie is wholly terrible. It’s jokes include extended sequences of rape, sexual manipulation, and cruel beatings. Please don’t let the truly all-star cast fool you, this movie sucks.

Movies that had probably had some great scenes but were overall not satisfying: (1.5-2 stars)

39 Guardians of the Galaxy 2

The sophomore slump hit Star Lord & co. hard. Compared to the grand set pieces of the first film, the isolated focus on Quill and his father really hindered the fun, action-packed hi-jinks fans expected from the first film. The soundtrack almost single handedly prevented this from being an outright terrible movie.

38 Beauty & the Beast

It will be interesting in the long run to compare the quality of these live-action remakes to the animated originals. Jungle Book was great, but it helped that it’s source material was a superficial 60s musical with lots of room for expansion. Beauty & the Beast was heralded as a masterpiece back in 1991, even being nominated for an Oscar for best picture. Not best animated picture. BEST PICTURE. The Emma Watson version? Not so much. It’s boring.

37 Okja

Snowpiercer is an awesome movie. It’s perfectly paced world building combined beautifully with its creative action sequences (creative both in terms of plotting and in filming). The second English-language film from director Bong Joon-Ho? Nowhere as good. Maybe I’m too jaded… but I didn’t feel any real connection to the titular Beast (the hippo/cow named Okja) or the dangers it faced. And Tilda Swinton (who was fantastic in Snowpiercer) is too abrasive and, frankly, too odd to be taken seriously as a person. And that’s to say nothing of Jake Gyllenhal’s lunatic of a character. Skip it.

Just shy of being good, but are Solid movies.(2.5 stars)

36 The Trip to Spain

It’s kind of hard to fault Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon in any meaningful way, since anyone who has seen the first two movies in this trilogy knows exactly what to expect (and really, who but anyone who has seen the first two movies would see this?). They know to expect impressions of famous British actors by two very talented impression artists. They know to expect two actors playing irritatingly arrogant caricatures of themselves. And they know to expect a movie devoid of plot, purpose, and interesting dialogue. That said, you come for the impressions, and Coogan and Brydon will always deliver on those (Mick Jagger and David Bowie being my two favorite additions to the duo’s repertoire.) just don’t expect much else.

35 A Ghost Story

This whole movie seemed to walk the line between a solid indie movie and a parody of a self-important movie. The central gimmick of the film involves Casey Affleck spending the vast majority of the film under a white sheet following his character’s death as the character’s ghost continues to pine after a love lost. When the film focuses on the futility of grief (particular in scenes where Rooney Mara is involved), it is moving. When it tries to make larger philosophical statements about what it means to inhabit land, it gets silly.

34 Kong: Skull Island

I watched this movie hoping to see some cool action sequences of King Kong and dinosaurs. It delivered, though no dinosaurs, but “Skeleton Walkers”. Cool Vietnam War-era atmosphere. The Samuel L. Jackson character is so angry towards Kong as to defy logical sense and the plot is threadbare, but John C. Reilly does wonders when he enters the film midway for comic relief.

33 Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri

I wanted to like this movie more. I tried to like it more. It has so much going for it: A pair of knock out performances by Frances McDormand and Woody Harrelson, often fascinating and engaging dialogues and monologues a la the Coen Brothers, and an intriguing premise in a mother trying to discover her daughter’s murderer. It falls apart for me because many of the supporting characters are more caricature than people, especially the insufferable bigoted police officer played by Sam Rockwell. The film is far more interested in developing the character of this unwatchable man than in ever dealing with the McDormand character’s grief, and Harrelson exits the film far too early. There are individual scenes that shine, but the sum of the film’s parts falls flat.

32 Dunkirk

I like Christopher Nolan. I really do. That said, I haven’t liked anything that he’s done since 2010. Dark Knight Rises was bloated, and Interstellar somehow doubled down on the bloat. Dunkirk, while beautifully shot and containing some truly gripping looks at the brutality of war, just never clicked with me. I particularly found the film’s tripartite structure, jumping between three stories whose chronological length differed significantly, more distracting than revelatory.

31 Logan Lucky

Appropriately nicknamed “Seven Eleven,” Steven Soderberg’s first heist movie since the Ocean’s trilogy adapts the standard caper film tropes to a down-to-Earth, working-class West Virginia setting. It’s unclear throughout if Soderberg is mocking his blue collar characters’ way of life or celebrating it, and the humor, particularly in scenes between Channing Tatum and Adam Driver, never quite clicks. But Logan Lucky probably includes the most intelligent, clever, and fun-to-watch heist in any movie. Period. If only the movie were even half as smart and entertaining as the heist it is about.

30 American Made

Doug Liman, The Director of American Made, so badly and clearly wants people to confuse this film with something from the Scorsese catalog. But this is a poor man’s Wolf of Wall Street or Goodfellas. It tries to glorify and legitimize the life of a criminal, and it hits all the highlights. It’s loosely (very loosely) based on real life smuggler Barry Seal. There’s clever heists and crimes. Shady dealings. A big budget plane crash into a suburban neighborhood. And all of it is shot and directed with a fun, vivacious energy. The problem is that this film fails to hit the hard emotional punches. There’s no equivalent to Joe Pesce “getting made” or even a real sense of come-uppance that eventually hit Jordan Belford. There’s a montage in this movie of Tom Cruise scared to start his car due to fear it’s been rigged to explode. What could have been a tone-altering sequence for the film that would bestow a great deal of gravitas, is used for laughs. And that’s about all you need to know about this movie. It’s entertaining and probably worth watching, and Tom Cruise is as cocky as ever in the lead role, but there’s nothing under the surface.

29 Lost City of Z

The is the most action-less adventure story ever told. The life of British explorer Percy Fawcett (Charlie Hunnam) and his explorations through the South American Amazon plays out at about the speed of a turtle. I’m not gonna say I was ever bored, because I wasn’t, but I was kind of waiting the whole movie for something exciting to happen and it never does. The film makes being captured by natives look as routine as a DMV visit. The movie is divided into a few key locations. There’s Britain where Fawcett spends so little of his life and where his wife (Sienna Miller as a progressive woman railing against the monotony of housewifery) and children lives. There’s The Amazon, and there’s briefly France for Fawcett’s stint as an officer in WWI. As you’ll be unsurprised if you’ve glanced at my review of Wonder Woman below, that the WWI section was my favorite. Perhaps it’s my fault for expecting something more out action of this film, but I think it even fails on the grounds of what it tries to be: a character study. Fawcett’s character is so thinly drawn and his motivations so weak, that when his son (Tom Holland) calls him out on it it’s a breath of fresh air - but then his son and wife later validates his motivations and the movie makes him out to be an unqualified hero - a champion of viewing Natives as more than savages. Fawcett did incredible things in his life, sure, but I don’t think he’s any hero. I don’t know - the movie could have been better.

28 Phantom Thread

The first half of this movie I consider excitingly British-boring, like an episode of Downton Abbey or The Crown. High class British people of the past dealing with first world problems, if well acted, well costumed, and well written, will always be entertaining to me no matter if what’s at stake is who will marry whom or, in this case, whether a dress will be ready on time. But the first half of the movie particularly shines because Daniel Day-Lewis plays the stereotypical controlling genius who society forgives because he’s so brilliant to the T. He’s insufferable, petty, emotionally stunted, and a joy to watch. And the whole first half of the film builds to a moment where Lewis’ girlfriend, a meek waitress played by Vicky Krieps, calls him out on all his bullshit. In the midst of the #MeToo era, her speech railing against his dominating, controlling behavior feels entirely appropriate. And as an audience member you expect the movie to go in a certain direction in the second half… and it doesn’t. At the risk of spoilers I won’t say more, but your response to film’s plot in its second act will be the deciding factor about whether or not you enjoy this film. For me, I did not, which is a shame because I liked the first half so much.

Good, not great movies:(3 stars)

27 It

I have never seen the original It movie or read the book, but based on the infamous boat scene that circulated virally on YouTube and the premise of a killer ghost clown… I wasn’t too pumped to see It. I happily had my expectations reversed. It is perhaps unfair to say the movie borrows from Stranger Things since that show definitely borrows heavily from Stephen King, but it’s hard to deny the similarities between the two 1980s set stories of kids against a cosmic beast. It featured incredible performances from its teenaged cast, with Jaeden Lieberher truly shining as the lead, but overall the movie felt overly long and oddly enough lacking the tension required of a remarkable thriller. Plus, I had far too many questions leaving the theater about the nature of Pennywise and so on for it to qualify as having a completely coherent plot. But as far as coming of age movies disguised as horror movies go, when It focused on the kids and less on Pennywise it was entirely engrossing.

26 Lady Macbeth

Lady Macbeth was a fascinating little film out of the UK about the extents (often violent) one woman would go to achieve freedom in an incredibly oppressive patriarchy. At just 22 Florence Pugh turns in a masterful performance of a woman wracked with guilt but full of pride in her freedom. She’s at once both sympathetic and monstrous, and watching her go from one to the other is worthy of the film’s Shakespearean title. Only complaint was that the movie, despite being only 90 minutes still felt it dragged a little in places.

25 Ingrid Goes West

What an interesting movie. Aubrey Plaza still seems to be playing the same Aubrey Plaza character she’s played in literally everything she’s been in, but this time it’s different. Rather than accepting Plaza’s character’s usual eccentric behavior as just par for the course, in Ingrid Goes West, these same behaviors are frightening. Obsessive, sociopathic, paranoid. That is the character Aubrey Plaza plays as her Ingrid travels Westward with the inheritance from her mother’s demise to emulate and become Taylor Sloane - a wonderfully basic Elizabeth Olson - someone she found on Instagram - avocado toast and all. As a movie that tries to make a statement about the ill-effects of social media on society, the movie falls flat. But viewed in the line of movies like Taxi Driver, Nightcrawler, etc. that is, movies that present the inner workings of sociopaths, Ingrid Goes West is an admirable demonstration of what Travis Bickle would look like in 2017. Also, poor O’Shea Jackson Jr. All his character wanted was to talk about Batman - and instead Ingrid ruins his life. Sad!

24 Call Me By Your Name

I’ve struggled to rate this movie fairly. One the one hand, I found it kind of boring. I found what the characters and movie deemed a meaningful relationship between Elio and Oliver to be based on little more than the fact that both were open to male on male sex. Their dialogue was supposed to come off as playfully hostile and full of sexual tension, but i just saw Oliver, played by Hammer, playing hard to get a little too well. Maybe I just wasn’t picking up the signs, but to my eyes it never seemed like Oliver ever liked Elio. On the other hand, it was a beautifully shot movie, included a scene about IndoEuropean etymology, and another about Greek bronze sculpture. Plus, Michael Stuhlbarg’s heartbreaking speech towards the end (you know which one) almost single handedly prevents this from being rated lower on this list. Thus, I left the movie thinking a lot, which is always a sign that the movie had done something right. Particularly it raised questions about and shed light on the nature, often awkward, of coming out. And for that, I recognize the movie’s importance and beauty. But that doesn’t mean it was my favorite movie to watch this year.

23 Spider-Man: Homecoming

Now for something completely different. Spider-Man: Homecoming is the definition of a mindless, fun summer blockbuster. Tom Holland shines it what is essentially a high-school action movie. It had cool action sequences (Washington Monument) and laughs (thanks Martin Starr - perhaps the best person to to cast as a nerdy high school teacher - , the school’s PA announcements, and the film’s new Spider-Man sidekick… some kid named Ned). Plus the movie’s villainous twist was legitimately a surprise in the best way. That said, Michael Keaton’s Vulture had some questionably plausible motives, with the theme of forgetting about the working class feeling a bit cliche in this film. It’s a real issue, but the movie didn’t really treat it like one. Still, I can’t wait for Spider-Man: Prom as Marvel’s first take at a high school movie was a success, even if it did little to reinvent the wheel.

22 Detroit

Detroit is a movie that tests your endurance and tolerance for brutality. Based on the historical Algiers Motel incident during the contentious race riots in 1967 Detroit, the movie is less about the incident as it is director Katherine Bigelow’s recreation of the event itself. This movie is like if you pieced together all of the scenes from a recreation typically found in a true crime documentary, and then left out the documentary narrative piece. As a result, the movie has little nuance (besides a beautiful opening animating sequence detailing the Great Migration.) Instead viewers are “treated” to two hours of raw violence. It’s not entertaining, and it’s hardly art, but it is engrossing. It stretches the imagination that some people could be so cruel and that more could be so permissive of such cruelty seen here, but at the end of the day 3 black teens ended up dead and nine others beaten… so I can grant Katherine Bigelow some leeway in how the lead racist cop in her film is portrayed as being the devil incarnate. It’s a powerful movie - just not one you’ll want to watch again.

21 Brad’s Status

If your biggest fear is that you’ll never satisfy your life’s largest ambitions… Brad’s Status is the movie for you. Ben Stiller as Brad is a guy who by all measures has a fine life - a loving wife, comfortable job, and a smart kid… any complaint he has is, by definition, a first world problem… but when he sees his old college buddies go on to become uber-successful… well, anyone is bound to get jealous. The movie is a great look at the emptiness so many feel with the direction of their lives, and Ben Stiller as Brad is perfectly cast as an understandable neurotic. While the movie does a great job of setting up Brad’s dilemma over his lack of status, it perhaps “solves” the issue a little lazily. It turns out his “successful” friends? They’re all jerks, crooks, or unhappy… so again we learn that money corrupts… an answer which doesn’t entirely satisfy the audience… or Brad.

20 Logan

If Deadpool showed how an R-rated superhero could look if you think R-rated = potty-mouth… Logan decided to show us what R-rated means in terms of violence. The opening scene where our “hero” eviscerates some gangsters by the side of a desert road is phenomenally beautiful. And the movie remains as bleak throughout - as well as, perhaps surprisingly, very thoughtful. Every scene with Patrick Stewart was beautiful. Beautiful because of his performance, but also because of how smartly written and well-paced his character’s story unfolded. What do you do when a man who could bring the world to its knees with his mind… gets Alzheimer’s? That Stewart was not even in the discussion for an Oscar baffles me. I legitimately lose interest in the film the moment Stewart stops playing as big a role about ¾ of the way through. It’s still a good movie after that point, but the story of mutant kids revolting against their slave drivers holds less power and realism than the story of a powerful man coming to grips with his dementia.

19 Wind River

Hell or High Water was, for me, the surprise hit of 2016, and when I found out that writer Taylor Sheridan was both writing and directing this film I saw it as soon as I could. While the movie may drag in a few spots here and there, it’s a pretty powerful movie about grief. It shares many story beats with Three Billboards but frankly I think this film does a much, much better job of staying focused on what’s most important. No, not the moral awakening of some insufferably racist cop, but the injustice of a girl’s life being ripped away from her family. And, more importantly, the impact that has upon an already depressed community. I don’t know how many movies there are that highlight the ironic contemporary struggle of Native Americans to get by in what should be their own land, but i don’t think there are many others. And for that fact alone Wind River deserves to be seen. While I’ve thus far talked like this movies a masterpiece it’s not. It drags a bit, Jeremy Renner’s character is both a little boring and a little too unbelievably good at his job, and Elizabeth Olsen’s character is a little bit too unbelievably inept at hers. But Sheridan crafts scripts whose violence is so genuinely shocking (no doubt in one place due to a perfectly placed flashback towards the end of the film) that you actually drop your jaw. You’ve seen thousands of people get shot in movies, but never quite like here.

18 War for the Planet of the Apes

Of all the major blockbuster franchises to be churned out these days, few have had the boldness to be both entertaining and artful. The first 15 minutes of Dawn of the Planet of the Apes should be taught at all film schools as the prime example of world building without needing a single spoken word of dialogue. I think overall I liked the new War for the Planet of the Apes a little less than its predecessor, but still more than the reboot’s first entry, Rise of the Planet of the Apes. For starters, this is a long movie and it didn’t need to be so long. That said, it has some of the best symbolism and beautifully structured motifs of any major blockbuster out there. Caesar is at times a Christ figure, a new Moses, and a slave in revolt, and the movie does a fantastic job of never letting these themes lay on too thick. And for a movie about apes, most of the sympathy undoubtedly comes from Andy Serkis. He deserves some sort of award for his work as Caesar… his facial ticks say a million things and more. Combined with the cinematography of the icy blue winter fortress, it’s a beauty to behold. Had the movie been a little tighter, it could have been that much better, but as is there’s still much to enjoy.

Great, fucking movies:(3.5 stars)

17 Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi

By far the most divisive film of 2017, The Last Jedi was… a fine film. Like for every illogical plot point, for every cringeworthily forced joke, for every time that Mark Hamil didn’t know how to act, for every unnecessary venture onto the casino Planet, for every time Leia was a force zombie… I still walked away from the movie feeling satisfied. The action was good and The plot included legitimate surprises. Rian Jonson is many things, but a poor plotter is not one of them. Plus I was just so attracted to the film’s overwhelming feeling of abject failure. Blockbusters are supposed to lift us up and give us hope… but this movie presented an interesting antithesis to all that, even more so than its spiritual predecessor Empire Strikes Back. This movie will and has already been picked apart to death… but I think if someone walked into this movie knowing little about the Jedi, the Force, or who shot first, they would find an entertaining blockbuster and that’s what I saw. Perhaps not the best Star Wars movie… but a fine film.

16 The Meyerowitz Stories: New and Selected

Adam Sandler can act? Who knew! I did! I’ve seen Click! Anyways, this was a very good movie all around. There are top notch performances from all of its leads, with a special shout out to the quiet Elizabeth Marvel and the terrifyingly unemotional Hoffman. The films plot focused on three adults’ differing relationships with their father (Dustin Hoffman) an overbearing father and aging sculptor who failed to achieve any success. The script is superb and beautifully crafted. The whole movie can be summed up in three scenes, with each scene showing a different of the three children running. In one, Sandler is running to catch up to his Dad, representing how his character always felt like he had to prove himself to his father. In another Stiller is running in front of his father, just as his character has tried to escape the overbearing smothering pressure of his father. And thirdly Marvel’s character runs from danger but her father plays no role - she unlike her brothers has managed to shed the shadow of her father. The movie has some missteps in failed jokes (Sandler’s daughter’s movies?) and is a little long which keep it from being an instant classic, but it’s very well done.

15 Get Out

The best horror movie In a decade isn’t much of a horror movie. There are few jump scares and there’s hardly a real enough sense of danger to raise the audience’s blood pressure. But as a drama that intends to say a thing or two about America’s racial issues, this is a damn good movie. The script is extremely well-crafted and the story’s mysteries unfold in such an organic way. You’ll have thought you have it all figured out at least 3 times before the truth is revealed, and the “truth” actually makes sense and appears unforced unlike the twists in many movies of this type. There’s an alternate ending to this film you can find online where Director Peele could have pushed this movie to make a stronger statement about race… I wish he had. He used a half-measure when he should have used a full measure. The movie as a whole can be a little slow at times… but the ending action sequence and the film’s tone and message throughout more than make up for it.

14 The Post

The best newspaper movies are those that are procedural. Films like Spotlight or All the President’s Men made you feel like you were part of the investigation, highlighting the excitement and importance of mundane tasks like combing through directories of priests or tracking down witnesses that ultimately lead to giant breakthroughs. The Post has none of this. The Pentagon Papers literally fall into the lap of the Washington Post and Nixon’s paranoia ensures that The Post will be the only paper with the opportunity to publish. So it’s not a newspaper movie in that it’s not about investigative journalism so much as about the people who run the newspapers and their commitment to the first amendment. As a result, it’s preachy and a little too on the nose for those of us bombarded daily with claims of fake news. That said, it’s still Spielberg so it’s incredibly well-crafted and entertaining and Meryl Streep is fantastic in drawing out the complexity of Kay Graham. And who doesn’t love seeing Bob Odenkirk and David Cross side by side?

13 Wonder Woman

The undersaturation of the movie market with movies about World War I is a shame. Compare it with World War II which has a minimum of 4 movies a year… always. But where WWII is so often portrayed as the heroic triumph of good over evil or dives into the heinousness of the Holocaust, rarely does it get the chance to just pause and question the brutality of war itself. World War I doesn’t have that problem. There was no Hitler, no Nazis, no Holocaust. Just rulers and treaties that led to the senseless loss of life. And it’s this that movies like Joyeux Noel, War Horse, and now Wonder Woman have captured beautifully. Yes, Wonder Woman is a movie about immortal beings and super heroes with lassos of truth… but at its root it’s about the disgusting fact that humans inflict mass pain on each other based on the lightest of pretenses. The movie has a villain… but humanity is the real evil. The plot was smartly put together, the scenery and costumes nail the period, and the budding romance between Chris Pine and Gal Gadot is a treat to watch. But it’s film’s depiction of the senselessness of war (embodied in Wonder Woman’s shell-shocked Scottish companion.) that really sold me. This movie was far more moving than it deserved to be for a silly super hero movie, but it deserves its praise.

12 The Lego Batman Movie

Perhaps this of all the choices on this list will be the one to not age well… but when I saw this movie I was thoroughly pleased. Not only was it an entertaining and funny beyond a “kid’s” film, it was a parodic love letter to the Caped Crusader. I did not see 2017’s Justice League… but I can safely say this is the best Batman movie since 2008’s Dark Knight. The whole plot of this Lego movie is in fact a direct play on a line of dialogue from The Dark Knight. There the Joker tells Batman, “You complete me,” a line which in its context embodies a central theme throughout Batman lore: does Batman exist because Gotham is full of criminals, or is Gotham full of criminals because Batman attracts them. Here though, the line is taken at face value in its pseudo-romantic sense - Joker pledges his “love” for Batman and here he gets denied. And the world hath seen no wrath as a Joker scorned. It’s a funny set-up that leads to a fun who’s-who of villains from across the Batverse and beyond. The film is anchored in the now-classic Lego movie sense of humor. Special props to Will Arnett’s arrogant, self-centered turn as the lead and to Michael Cera’s bubblingly boyish Dick Grayson/Robin. The two have a perfect comedic give and take. It’s as if the whole movie is a side project of Arrested Development with a young George Michael Bluth playing along with the delusional fantasies of his Uncle GOB. Tobias would of course be Mr. Freeze - he already blued himself.

11 Darkest Hour

Who was Winston Churchill? I’m still not quite sure. The movie presented him as a drunk, surely, but also scared, crude, abrasive, confused, a little Alzheimer’s-y at times… but the least I can say is that he deserved my respect by the end of the film and that’s what the movie wanted from me. Gary Oldman is amazing in this movie and other people could speak more eloquently about his performance. But he’s not alone and Ben Mendehlsson as King George and Stephen Dillane as the preposterously prissy Lord Halifax deserve special praise. Lily James as Churchill’s secretary does not though… her role was kinda pointless… But what really caught my eye about this movie is it’s beautiful cinematography. The movie plays with light and dark so well - fitting for its title. Plus the movie tells the story of the Dunkirk travesty from such an interesting perspective. The knowledge of Hitler’s ultimate intentions today make it difficult to swallow arguments of the past that peace might have been possible, but the film does a great job of establishing tension in a conflict where everyone in the audience knows the resolution. There are times when you wonder along with Churchill whether peace might be worth pursuing. However, if you, like me, enjoy getting your history from film, You’ll likely be saddened as i was to learn that the scene where Churchill goes into the Tube and talks to the common folk for inspiration was all made up for the movie… still, the scene’s pretty magical to watch. So everyone plays their roles to the T and the pictures are pretty. If that’s not enough for you, just watch this as an antidote to watching the lifeless Dunkirk. Ugh. Fuck Dunkirk.

10 The Beguiled

This is an extremely moody, brooding film that sticks with much you longer than you’d think. It’s really a short, little movie at only 94 minutes long, but director Sophia Coppola packs that time full of lust-filled intrigue and tension. If you ever wonders what happens when a house full of sexually repressed women in the 1860s encounters a wounded soldier who’s happy to “please”… the answer is not a lot of good. This is not a porno. If anything this movie takes a male fantasy and turns it into a nightmare. Elle Fanning, Kirsten Dunst, and Nicole Kidman play a fearfully tempting trio, each approaching the mysterious figure of Colin Farrell with their own motivations. Elle as a young woman exploring her sexuality, Kirsten as a woman sheltered for too long and yearns for the companionship, while Kidman as the older woman wants to feel love again… yet Colin cannot have all three and tries anyways… and the result is chilling and creepy reminder that you don’t mess with the heart of a woman. It’s Like Gone Girl in this sense, but better because this movie’s actually rewatchable and the perspective is entirely female-centric.

9 Mudbound

Somewhere online this movie is described as “literary in the best sense” and that’s about all you need to know about this movie. It’s a sprawling character-based epic that charts the lives of two families, one white, one black, whose lives continue to intersect while living in the 1940s rural South. Like much of the 19th c. and early 20th c. American literature, the big takeaway is that life in the country is miserable and prone to stagnation (a little stuck in the mud if you will). And Carey Mulligan’s role as a sophisticated woman forced into the staid life on the farm is practically a carbon copy of the main character in Willa Cather’s “Wagner Matinee” - and that’s a good thing. Mary J. Blige looks really cool with her sunglasses but also does a great job acting as the loving matriarch of her family - in fact the whole cast is pretty incredible. However the heart of the film is the friendship that forms between the veterans returning from WWII- one from each family. Garrett Hedlund and Jason Mitchell carry well the invisible wounds of war and the movie does a great job of highlighting the great injustice and indifference our society all too often places upon the plight of veterans - especially those who are also racial minorities. It’s a movie both reflective of its period’s morals, and a reminder of how close in time we are to some of our nation’s worst racially-based hate crimes.

8 Shape of Water

Love comes in all shapes and sizes - a theme Hollywood has pushed on us for decades. But here the trite fairy tale truism is made fresh… precisely because director Guillermo del Toro does not hide the fact that his Shape of Water - though a movie for adults with rather graphic violence and sex - is a fairy tale. Its love is both unbelievable and beautiful. The film tries to say something about the civil rights movement and oppression in its portrayal of the stigmatized relationship between woman and fish monster… but I personally found those parallels a bit wonky. The film works best as a simple story devoid of overt politics. Few scenes this year are as heartwarming as two rain droplets dancing on the side of a bus window as it races through the night or a dance scene between a fish monster and a woman filmed in the black and white style of the grand musicals of Old Hollywood. The movie includes a heist (the best!), Communist intrigue, comedy, and an amazing villain in Michael Shannon. That guy’s face is made to be evil. Sally Hawkins, Octavia Spencer, Michael Stuhlbarg, Richard Jenkins round out a superbly talented cast and the movie is a joy to watch. It was clear this was a work of love for delToro and though it’s not my favorite movie this year it deserves all the praise it gets. It’s a technical and moving marvel

Fantastic films (4 stars)

7 Sanctuary

Of all the movies on this list, I’m gonna bet this is the one you’ve never heard of. I’d never heard of it either. It was an accidental find hidden deep in the Hulu catalog which only attracted my roommate’s and my attentions because it was recently voted the best film in Ireland for 2017 according to some Irish critic’s circle. It was never even released in America. I like Irish film, and I loved this movie. It’s an ambitious project - at least by modern standards. A movie about people with intellectual disabilities, whose cast is mostly filled with people with intellectual disabilities, including like 4 people with Downs Syndrome. It’s part comedy, part rom-com, part romantic-drama, and throughout a tragedy. The movie struggles to find a fine line between viewing it’s largely adult cast of people with intellectual disabilities as people who need to be watched after and people who deserve independence and freedom. And that is not a fault of the movie… in real life finding that balance is hard. The movie has you laughing one moment, crying the other, but at all times forcing this viewer at least to challenge his perceptions of those with intellectual disabilities. It’s a powerful movie, an entertaining one, and one which I think all should see.

6 The Big Sick

Yes, this movie may have committed the worst of comedy movie sins - putting the best joke (the one about 9/11) in the trailer - but that doesn’t stop The Big Sick and it’s plot from surprising. I won’t spoil the plot because it’s best experienced first hand - but one thing I wish I knew going in is that this is fairly closely based on Kumail Nanjiani’s real life, who wrote the film with his wife Emily V. Gordon. I say this because when I first saw this my complaint was that the plot seemed too unbelievable and were this a purely fictional tale I’d be right - but truth is stranger than fiction. The movie has many thematic parallels with the second episode of Aziz Ansari’s Master of None in that the film presents the real pressures faced by children of immigrants to balance wanting to live a “normal” American life without seeming ungrateful or unappreciative of your parents’ culture and the sacrifices they have made to give their kids a better life. Kumail’s mother may be the “villain” from a plotting perspective, but the film is more nuanced than to portray her as heartless. In fact, the incredible love of a parent for their child is palpable throughout, and Ray Romano and Holly Hunter do wonders portraying a couple who though strained will unite to do anything for their daughter. Like life, the characters are realistic, the conflicts have no easy resolution, and it’s equal parts comical and emotional.

5 The Florida Project

Probably one of the best compliments I can bestow upon any piece of art is, “It reminds me of The Wire.” Yes, I am one of those people… deal with it. But what that to me means, is that this particular work of art manages to present an important social problem in a way that has no clear heroes or villains. Rather, it presents real, flawed humans dealing with a terribly shitty social construct. Here, the social construct is poverty - severe, depressing poverty. What are you supposed to do if you have no money, no home, no hopes for the future? You scam, you prostitute, you lie, you do anything to get by. But the characters in the Florida Project aren’t Robin Hoods or Aladdins - lovable thieves. No, they are often ugly people. This is a movie largely about “white trash” America - or rather people we cast aside without a second thought as white trash. However, what makes this movie so brilliant is that it grounds its message in the perspective of a child. Brooklyn Prince is damn near perfect in her role as the six year-old Moonee, the daughter of the aforementioned lying, scamming, destitute woman. By framing the move from Moonee’s view, director Sean Baker allows the movie to be at one moment light-hearted and the next moment heartbreaking. Like The Wire this movie deserves to be taught in any sociology class alongside any textbook. It’s an insightful look at the way the other half lives that’s full of empathetic humanity without providing its characters forgiveness carte blanche. And as entertainment it’s riveting.

4 Baby Driver

I am confident that this movie will not be as good on a second pass, as it’s more of a roller coaster adrenaline rush than artful film, and once you know all the twists and turns the fun will surely be lessened. But that doesn’t stop the first ride through the life of a bank-robbing getaway driver with a heart from being a hell of a good time. Like Patrick Stewart’s snub for Logan, I am legitimately surprised that there was never ANY talk of best director in the cards for Edgar Wright - though it’s probably a little more accurate to call him a choreographer than director as Baby Driver is, for all intents and purposes, an extended music video. Like Wright’s previous work in the Cornetto trilogy, the soundtrack is an eclectic mix of deep tracks from the mainly 60s/70s, but here the music does more than provide a backdrop to the action; it reflects and informs the action. Car chases are coordinated so that the best parts match musical crescendos. Take for example the foot chase towards to the end of the film set perfectly to Hocus Pocus’s “Focus.” The song alternates between a rocking guitar riff and a yodeling breakdown, and Wright appropriately sets the Chase parts to the guitar part and parts where Baby has to hide to the yodel. But calling it a music video perhaps robs the movie of the fact that it created an interesting cast of characters. Yes, it stars Kevin Spacey… but he’s creepy in this movie so at least art reflects life. But more of interest are Jamie Foxx and Jon Hamm as two of Baby’s slightly unhinged compatriots in bank robbing. Ansel Elgort in the title role carries enough charm and heart to capture audiences, and Lily James as the Southern beauty with the heart of gold is just grungy enough to be the perfect match for Baby’s criminal nature. Few movies have ever been this fun to watch with incredibly coordinated car chases, and the plot carries enough twists and turns to keep audiences on their toes.

3 Columbus

This movie is one of those movies where I can’t really put into words why I liked it. The most obvious reason is the movie’s scenery. Set entirely in the small town of Columbus, IN, a real town renowned across the world for its collection of buildings made in the modernist style. The town is shot beautifully and even if the movie weren’t good otherwise, it’d be worth a glance for the pictures. However, the plot is good. It’s a two-for-one with two of my favorite themes. One plot deals with the coming of age of a teenaged girl who’s too smart to get stuck in a dead end town. The other deals with a son comings to terms with his troubled relationship with his father. As I said, the movie is slow and I won’t claim to fully believe that in real life a relationship would have formed between the two main characters - it’s a little forced. But the emotions of the movie are undeniably real and it never feels like melodrama. This is one of the few movies where upon watching I immediately wanted to watch it again.

2 Good Time

Unlike Columbus, I was happy when Good Time ended and did not want to watch it again. It’s not because it’s a bad movie - far from it. But it paints such an ugly, depressing, and frankly terrifyingly real view of humanity that you’re happy when it’s finally over. This is film at its most linear (aside from one notable flashback that ranks among the best flashbacks of all time) and that’s not a complaint. The film’s runs quickly from start to finish like a bullet. The story is one of survival, as Robert Pattinson’s Nicky tries to free his accomplice and brother from custody while avoiding the cops himself following a botched bank robbery. This is not a light hearted bank heist movie like the Oceans movies, Baby Driver, or the like. While Nicky’s attempts to evade detection are certainly clever, as the movie continues you find you aren’t rooting for the protagonist - I wasn’t at least. The movie plays with the idea that the cat & mouse trope so popular in literature is far from fun in real life. It’s a hell of an adrenaline rush, Robert Pattinson gives - i think - one of the best performances of the year, and the plot is damn near perfect - not a second is wasted.

1 Lady Bird

The amount a movie makes me cry sits in direct proportion to how much i enjoyed the film (Interstellar being the big exception). At the end of Lady Bird I was awash in tears. The movie depicts with such a razor-sharp accuracy just how hard being in a family can be. Just how contradictory it can be. How is it that you can hate what your mother does, says, and stands for, and still love her? How is it that you can be so relieved to send your daughter off to college and out of your hair but also cry the entire way home? The taut relationship between Lady Bird and her mother (played extraordinarily by Saorsie Ronan and Laurie Metcalf) is without a doubt the cornerstone upon which Greta Gerwig built her semi-autobiographical story. And in a world filled with nuanced stories of miscommunication between fathers and sons, it was so incredibly refreshing to see the mother-daughter relationship explored with the same respect. The key? Neither character is flawless. Yes Lady Bird is our protagonist, but she’s just a teen. The movie can not help but remind us that for all of her confidence and sophistication there’s just so much to this world she doesn’t understand. We see her engage in doomed sexual relationships, get into petty spats with her best friend, and generally just act immaturely. And her mother is no saint either. Yes, she undoubtedly makes great sacrifices for her daughter and her whole family. She is patient and loving with her husband who suffers from depression and struggles to find work. But she also has no interest in learning about her daughter - her thoughts, her feelings. She embodies the mantra “cruel to be kind” yet it’s sometimes hard to see when the kindness kicks in. The movie is honest, it’s funny, and at times heartbreaking. It’s the best movie I’ve seen since Boyhood in terms of showing what life in America is really like, and it’s a gem of a movie deserved to be seen by all.

#Oscars #bestof2017 #Movies #Lady Bird

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thethingssafhaslearnedsofar · 5 years ago

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Act 1, I Can't be Your Hero, Baby.

Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

When I was a senior in college, I wrote an anonymous essay for The Daily Beast about what they wanted to call my dirty little secret, that I was undocumented. This was in 2011, before DACA, and I was one of the first undocumented students to graduate Harvard. The essay got me some attention, and agents wrote me asking if I wanted to write a memoir.

I was angry. A memoir? I was 21. I wasn't fucking Barbra Streisand. I had been writing professionally since I was 15 but only about music. I wanted to be the guy in High Fidelity. And I didn't want my first book to be a rueful tale about being a sickly Victorian orphan with tuberculosis who didn't have a social security number, which is what the agents all wanted.

The guy who eventually ended up becoming my agent respected that, did not find an interchangeable immigrant to publish a sad book, read everything I would write over the next seven years, and we kept in touch. I was the first person who wrote him on the morning of November 9th, 2016.

That morning, I received a bunch of emails from people who are really freaked out about Trump winning. And the emails, essentially, were offers to hide me in their second houses in Vermont or stay in their basements. Shit, I told my partner, they're trying to Anne Frank me.

By this point, I had read lots of books about migrants. I hated a good number of these books. I couldn't see my family in them, because I saw my parents as more than laborers, as more than sufferers or dreamers. I thought I could write something better, and I thought I was the best person to do it. I was just crazy enough. Because if you're going to write about undocumented immigrants in America, tell the story, the full story, you have to be a little bit crazy. And you certainly can't be enamored by America, not still. That disqualifies you.

I did not want to write anything inspirational. I wanted to write for everybody who wants to step away from the buzzwords in immigration-- the talking heads, the Dreamers in graduation caps and gowns-- and read about the people underground, not heroes, randoms, people. I wanted to write about my parents, and that's the story I'm going to tell here, the story of my parents.

If you ask my mother where she's from, she's 100% going to say, she's from the kingdom of god, because she does not like to say that she's from Ecuador, Ecuador being one of the few South American countries that has not especially outdone itself on the international stage. Magical realism basically skipped over it. And our military dictatorship never reached the mythical status of a Pinochet or a Videla. Plus, there are no world famous Ecuadorians to speak of other than the fool who housed Julian Assange at the embassy in London and Christina Aguilera's father, who she said was a domestic abuser.

If you ask my father where he's from, he will definitely say Ecuador, because he is sentimental about the country for reasons he's working out in therapy.

But if you push them, I mean really push them, they're both going to say they're from New York. If you ask them if they feel American, because you're a little narc who wants to prove your blood runs red, white, and blue, they're going to say no, we feel like New Yorkers. They've lived in New York since they left Ecuador in 1991.

I don't know much about my parents' decision to choose New York, or even the United States, as a destination. It's not that I haven't asked them why they came to the United States. It's that the answer isn't as morally satisfying as most people's answers are-- a decapitated family member, famine. And I never pressed them for more details because I don't want to apply pressure on a bruise.

The story, as far as I know it, goes something like this. My parents had just gotten married, and their small auto body business was not doing well. The idea of coming to America to work for a year to make just enough money to pay off their debts came up, and it seemed like a good idea. They left me with my dad's family when I was a year and a half old. That's about as much as I know.

My parents didn't come back after a year. They were barely making ends meet. When I was four years old, going to school in Ecuador, teachers began to comment on how gifted I was. My parents knew Ecuador was not the place for a gifted girl. The gender politics were too fucked up. And they wanted me to have all the educational opportunities they hadn't had. So that's when they brought me to New York. I was just shy of five when I stepped off the plane.

White Americans love academically achieving minorities. And I learned quickly that the most alluring thing about me was that I was young and brown and a good student, the holy trinity. I went to a Catholic elementary school on a scholarship, and we lived in Queens. My mother stayed home, and my father drove a cab. This was back when East New York was still gang country, and he had to fold his body into a little origami swan and hide under his steering wheel during crossfires in the middle of the day.

Then came September 11th, 2001. Here's how I remember the day my father started dying, not long after the twin towers fell. My father comes home from work, and I greet him in the doorway to give him a kiss hello. He walks slowly and comes toward my body at a strange angle a child could only interpret as a terrible fall. He collapses onto me to cry into my neck. I'm little, 12 or 13, but he does, he falls.

The letter says in English something about the DMV suspending driver's licenses for undocumented immigrants. It was part of an attempt to strengthen security measures after 9/11. My father had just lost his job as a taxi driver. He had also lost his state ID. Over the next 20 years, he'd lose many more things, but let's put a little blue thumb tack on this memory map, the first place in Hell we visited.

September 11th changed the immigration landscaper forever. ICE was the creation of 9/11 paranoia. It changed my father, too. It was hard to see him fall, because he was the most powerful person I knew. He was a difficult man, and I was a difficult child. I was polite and craved approval from authority figures, but I was also dark and precocious. Not precocious in the, we live in Tribeca, and my kid is a born artist, kind of way. More like, my immigrant third grader is reading Hemingway but is secretly drinking Listerine and toothpaste until she throws up because she wants it to kill her, kind of way.

Only years later would I realized how real my suicidal impulses were. That was too damn young, I'd think, lying down in the dark at my doctor's office with an IV of ketamine hooked up to my arm, hoping to extinguish the suicidality that began when I was five and lay crayons around the perimeter of my bed so I'd know in the morning if I'd been secretly raped at night. I'd know because the crayons would be broken.

My father read parenting books that explained how to raise troubled children. But those children were never straight-A students who were soft-spoken and loved teachers. It confused him, and the dissonance made him angry at me. He saw me as different from other children in a way that troubled him, and he fumbled in the dark to help me with what he couldn't name.

When I was off from school for any kind of break, my father would plan out my day in half hour increments, scheduling everything from bath time, to TV shows, to coloring time, to math drills, to time to play with dolls, and even bathroom breaks. He called it my schedule, and he hand wrote it on graph paper in different colored inks and taped it to my desk. When I became overwhelmed with panic, crying hysterically, he would send me to take a cold shower or take me out on a jog around the neighborhood.

He'd set aside a magazine or a newspaper articles for me to translate. He could not review the fidelity of the translation, but he judged my penmanship. I didn't know what would have happened to me if I had not been kept away from my own thoughts for so many years. My father kept me alive.

After my father lost his job as a taxi driver, he found a job as a delivery man at a restaurant down in the Financial District. In the mornings, he would deliver breakfast to offices-- a raisin bagel with cream cheese and a coffee with hazelnut creamer, orange juice and a banana, a granola bar and chocolate milk. There was no delivery minimum, so my father delivered it all. Because the deliveries were so small, sometimes he didn't get a tip. Sometimes he was told to keep the change, a quarter. Sometimes he was tipped in pennies. He had to say, thank you, sir, thank you, ma'am.

Sometimes he was given a $20 tip for a $5.00 breakfast. He always told us about those tips. They were usually from Puerto Rican receptionists who talked to him in Spanish and asked to see photos of me. When he came home was one of those tips, it was like having my dad back from the dead. He would dance to no music, and he'd make jokes, and he'd come out of his shower looking like a teenager.

My father didn't use a bike. He made all his deliveries on foot. He speed walked while carrying bags of food to offices on Wall Street. The plastic handles of the bags would twist and cut into his fingers, and he developed large calluses on both his hands. His polyester pants rubbed up against his calves so much that he lost all the hair on his legs.

He went through many pairs of inexpensive black rubber shoes. My mother massaged his feet at night. My dad's feet are small and fat, like mine, so you can't tell when they're swollen. After a few years, my dad's feet would hurt so much that he walked like he was on hot coals, sometimes leaning on me to move from the couch to the bed. Aye, yai, yai, yai, yai, he'd say, as he limped, like a mariachi.

When I was 15, the owner of the restaurant where my father worked hired a new manager to oversee the delivery men, who were all immigrants. The guy was Puerto Rican, an American citizen, and became immediately abusive, threatening to call ICE on them, yelling at them, getting up in their faces. My father fell into a bit of a depression.

I had just watched All the President's Men. I put on my best posh accent, dialed *69 to block my number, and called the restaurant. I asked to speak to the owner. I said I was a beat reporter for a big city newspaper and had just received a tip from a customer about overhearing racist abuse in the kitchen. And did he have a comment? The owner said he'd handle it and asked me not to write the story. I don't know, man, I said, it's a pretty good story. In the end, the manager was fired, and the cloud over my father lifted.

My father was furious when I told him what I did. But not for a minute in the 15 years since have I felt that what I did was unethical. Nor have I felt guilty for having a man fired. I'd do it again, but my accent would be better.

I went to a small public high school in Times Square, where around 80% of the student body was at or below the poverty line. We were mostly all black or Latinx. I was a high achiever. I wanted to go to the University of Chicago because I found the unofficial motto, where fun goes to die, appealing. But there is no beating Harvard. That name. I needed the name to keep my parents safe.

Harvard, at the time, did not know how to deal with undocumented students. When I was there, a very successful Wall Street man who knew me from an educational NGO we both belonged to-- he as a supporter, me as a supported-- learned I was undocumented and could not legally hold a work-study job. So every semester, he wrote me a modest check. In the notes section, and he cheekily wrote, beer money.

I wrote him regular emails about my life at Harvard and my budding success as a published writer. He was always appropriate and boundaried. I had read obsessively about artists since I was a kid and considered myself an artist since I was a kid, so I didn't feel weird about older, wealthy, white people giving me money in exchange for grades or writing. It was patronage. They were Gertrude Stein, and I was a young Hemingway. I was van Gogh, crazy and broken. I truly did not have any racial anxieties about this, thank god. That kind of thing could really fuck a kid up.

Different therapists throughout the years have tried to get me to confess to cultural shock about arriving to Harvard as a poor, undocumented freshman. But the truth is there was none. I've always had a really wonderful sense of self-esteem thanks to my mother, who is a tiny bit of a narcissist and has delusions of royalty, and because of my mental illness, which comes with delusions of grandeur of its own. So I kind of felt like it was my birthright. That probably makes a lot of people very mad.

As I began to receive my diagnoses and misdiagnoses throughout my 20s-- depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, complex trauma-- I didn't feel anything other than affinity with writers I loved, people like Emily Dickinson, Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, and Robert Lowell. It made sense to me that I had my own demons. Of course I did.

I've always been super casual when people ask me about my parents having left me in Ecuador. That's a bravado I'd like to keep on the official record. But sometimes I think about it. I haven't talked with my parents about their having left me in Ecuador when I was a year and a half old. Sometimes I do adorable things, like take pictures of myself chugging vodka bottles or pretending to down the contents of a pill bottle, and send them to my mother with the caption, because you abandoned me.

When I am away from my partner and dog for a few days for work, and it's hard, I wonder how my parents were able to do it for three years. I don't blame either of them for it. I never have. What I'm describing to you is dirt extracted from a very tight pore. I don't feel anything about being left on the day to day, but I am told by mental health experts that it has affected me.

And I fought that conclusion. I denied it. I wanted to be a genius. I wanted my mental illnesses to be purely biological. I wanted to have been born wild and crazy and weird and brilliant, writing math equations in chalk on a window. Instead, therapist after therapist told me I had attachment issues and that my mental illnesses were related to my childhood. I left those therapists, ghosted them.

But it's not just those early years without my parents that branded me. It's the life I've lead in America as a migrant. As an undocumented person, I felt like a hologram. Nothing felt secure. I never felt safe. I didn't allow myself to feel joy because I was scared to attach myself to anything I'd have to let go of. Being deportable means you have to be ready to go at any moment. I've never loved a material object. When my parents took me home after my Harvard graduation, we took the Chinatown bus, and we each took one suitcase of my things. If it didn't fit, we threw it out. We threw out everything that wasn't clothes.

After I graduated from Harvard, I went to Yale to do a PhD. I never wanted to PhD. But DACA didn't exist then, and I couldn't legally get a job anywhere. And I had to buy time for something to happen-- for the DREAM Act to pass, which my dad had assured me would happened since I was in middle school. And I needed the health insurance.

It's allowed me to write, and my parents will be proud when I get that doctorate. I have fetched the American dream and laid it at my parents' feet. But the twisted inversion that many children of immigrants know is that, at some point, your parents become your children. And your own personal American dream becomes making sure they age and die with dignity in a country that has long wanted them dead.

A few years ago, my father experienced heart failure. This was the moment I had been preparing for my entire life. Everything that had happened to me since I took that New York-bound flight 24 years ago had been preparing me for this moment. Learning English, getting bangs, gaining weight, losing weight, getting the sick puppy from the pet shop-- all of that happened to prepare me to this point. My parents were sick, undocumented, uninsured, and aging out of work in a fucking racist country.

Until the pandemic hit, my father was a salad maker, feeding Manhattan's executive class. He had worked for 14 years at the same restaurant, then left. He was invited to a promising new job, lured there by an acquaintance who assured him of better hours, better treatment, a better environment. My dad is very gullible.

He spent a week at this new restaurant, where, for spare change, they had him work all day. And then at the end of the day, he was given just two and a half hours to clean an industrial kitchen-- an industrial fryer, a refrigerator, a stove, an oven, and a sink-- wash the dishes in the dishwasher, take out the trash, sweep and mop the floors, and clean the garbage chute. His body was wrecked at the end of each day. I'm too old to for this, he said. So he quit. His old job wouldn't take him back.

Desperate, he began each morning by showing up at a Latinx job agency, which would send him out to audition at a different restaurant day after day, week after week, to no avail. My dad started texting me blurry cell phone pictures from the job agency. He took the photos when he was sitting in the waiting room of the agency, waiting for his name to be called.

The first picture is of a man, maybe in his late 70s, wearing a green button down, khaki pants, and aviator sunglasses. His lips are downcast. My dad said he was applying to be a dishwasher. The second picture is of a man, maybe in his late 40s, who was wearing a black baseball cap, a gray sweater, and maroon pants. My dad said he'd had a stroke. His right arm was paralyzed, and he had a limp and his right leg. He was also applying to be a dishwasher.

It's hard to see men like that not get jobs, my dad texted. I hope they have children who can take care of them, I respond. What I mean to say is, I hope they have a child like me. I hope everyone has a child like me. I tell god, this is going to kill me anyway, so just take me. Patent and mass produce and distribute me to undocumented immigrants at Walmarts. I am a professional undocumented immigrant's daughter.

I saved the photos on my phone as a reminder to myself of why I need to be successful, so successful, statistical anomaly successful. Then I deleted them because they harmed my mental health. I wish I still had them.

My parents live in New York City, and after the pandemic hit in March, they lost their jobs. They're both in Queens, the center of the center of the epidemic. I've prohibited my father from doing dangerous gig work, like deliveries. And I've begun to financially support them both. My mom is immunocompromised. She has an extremely low white blood cell count.

I have really lovely dreams, crazy fucking cotton candy fantasy dreams, dreams that make my whole body feel warm, where I cut up my chest, no anesthesia, take out my lungs, and implant them into her chest with the tree stitch. And if I'm lucky, in the seconds I have before I die, I would be able to see her heart. We wouldn't even need a ventilator.

There is a Harvard scholar named Roberto Gonzalez who has conducted longitudinal studies on the effects of undocumented life on young people. He found his subjects suffered chronic headaches, toothaches, ulcers, sleep problems, and eating issues, which is funny to find in research because I get these migraines, an 8 or 9 on the 10 point scale. I have a CAT scan, an MRI. I go to the neurologist. The readings are all inconclusive. I'm told it's a migraine with an unknown cause. Have you tried yoga, they say.

The headaches get worse when I write about my parents. From migrants shot in the head by Border Patrol, to migrant children being forcibly injected with drugs in detention centers, US government's crimes against immigrants are beyond the pale. And the whole world knows. But when I was growing up and throughout the Obama administration, similar crimes were happening, if on a different scale, and I'm not sure the same people cared.

I felt crazy for thinking we were under attack, watching my neighbors disappear and then going to school, and watching the nightly news, and watching award shows and seeing no mention. I felt crazy watching the white supremacist state slowly kill my father. I would frantically tell everyone that there was no such thing as the American dream. But then some all-star immigrants around me, who had done things the right way, preached a different story, and Americans ate that up. It all made me feel crazy. I also am crazy. Pero why?

Researchers have shown that the flooding of stress hormones resulting from a traumatic separation from your parents at a young age kills off so many dendrites and neurons in the brain that it results in permanent psychological and physical changes. One psychiatrist I went to told me that my brain looks like a tree without branches. So I just think about all the children who have been separated from their parents, and there's a lot of us, past and present, and some under more traumatic circumstances than others, like those who are in internment camps right now.

And I just imagine us as an army of mutants. What will happen to us? Who will we become? Who will take care of us? We've all been touched by this monster, and our brains are forever changed, all of us trees without branches.

Karla Cornejo Villavicencio reading an essay adapted from her brand new memoir, The Undocumented Americans. https://www.thisamericanlife.org/700/transcript

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crispychrissy · 7 years ago

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Silver Lining

Summary: You’re half shapeshifter / half human and head over to dinner at your boyfriend’s house to meet his family. Things don’t go quite as you planned. Characters: Mark Winchester (OMC) x Teenage!Reader...with Sam, Dean, and Bobby Word Count: 2599 Warnings: Very very very minor angst. A/N: In this fic, Dean has a teenage son. He, his son, Sam, and Bobby all live together at Bobby’s house and they all still are hunters. This is my first one-shot reader insert fic. I’m still new to the fanfic scene, so any feedback would be appreciated!

It's gross.

Even if you were a full blood shapeshifter, the transformation process is disgusting; but as a half shifter...the process is not only just as gross, it’s extremely painful and takes longer than normal. You've only shifted four times in your life that you can remember (your mother said you were not as careful when you were a baby), and each time it was an emergency.

Your mother explained as much as she could as you were growing up, but you still had questions. All she ever told you was that your father was a shapeshifter and he had tricked her into falling in love with him. When he vanished, your mother said he was probably killed by hunters.

You didn't understand what hunters were until a few years ago. You were out with your mother at Tully's Diner for lunch when two people dressed in business suits came in. Your mother looked up at them and tensed up immediately, clenching her teeth together.

"Mom? What's wrong?" You asked, reaching across the table for her hand.

"You need to learn eventually." She muttered under her breath before clearing her throat and speaking normally. "Do you see those two people who just came in?"

You wait a few seconds and casually looked over your right shoulder at the man and woman who entered as they made their way to a booth on the opposite side of the restaurant. You turned back to your mother and nodded.

"They're hunters," she whispered, "They and people like them go after supernatural beings like your father. I don't know why they're here, but I can assume you've been careful with your transformations?"

You sighed and rolled your eyes, "Yeah, mom. I'm fourteen, not stupid. Last time I shifted was last year when you needed me to go to the DMV for you."

"I know that sweetheart," she nodded and offered a soft smile, "but I just want to make sure my baby is safe."

"I know. I don't really want to transform anymore, mom. You know it hurts when I do it. And you know I can't really go to school and act like everything is normal when I look completely different." You smiled and laughed quietly.

Your mother smiled and laughed with you before your conversation was broken by the waitress, Emily, bringing you your food.

"Thanks, Em!" You smiled at her as you grabbed the bottle of ketchup on the table and squirted a generous helping onto your plate.

"Anytime, Ketchup. Try to save some for the other customers, would yah?" Emily smiled and shook her head and she walked away.

"I still wonder why you let them call you Ketchup. It's not like having a nickname named after a condiment is appealing." Your mother sighed.

Your smiled and swiped a french fry through the heap of ketchup on your plate before putting it in your mouth. "I didn't choose the condiment life. The condiment life chose me."

You and your mom burst out into a fit of giggles and made bad condiment puns and jokes for the remaining duration of your meal.

That was two years ago. Now, you're sixteen and a sophomore in high school...and about to go over to your boyfriend's house for dinner. You started dating Mark Winchester almost three months ago and things were wonderful. You both bonded over the fact that you're being raised by single parents (his dad raises him, your mom raises you), and that you both love video games. He always tells you that you're the Zelda to his Link, before you playfully shove his shoulder and remind him you're not a damsel in distress.

You're just pulling on your jeans when the doorbell rings. You run to your closet and grab your plain black ballerina flats and make your way down the hallway, slipping them on as you walk. Stopping for a second at the end of the hallway at the mirror, you admire your cute blue button down and push a loose strand of hair back behind your ear.

"You can do this. You can do this, Y/N. It's just dinner." You mutter to yourself and close your eyes

"Honey! Mark is here. Are you coming?" Your mother yells from the front of the house.

"Yeah, I'm coming, just a second!" You yell back, opening your eyes, and exhaling sharply.

You turn and make your way down the hallway and down the stairs to see Mark standing on the porch being interrogated by your mother.

"Mom, leave him alone." You interrupt.

"Relax, Y/N. He was just telling me about his love of cars." She turns to you and kisses you on the forehead. "Have fun honey. I love you."

"Love you too, mom. I'll call when I'm on my way home." You step outside and link your arm with Mark's as you make your way down the steps to the curb.

Your eyes go wide at the beautiful sleek black car waiting for you.

"Wow, she's beautiful." You whisper as you run your hand along the roof of the car.

"Thanks." A male voice answers from inside.

You lean down to see a gorgeous man with apple green eyes and freckles sitting in the driver's seat, smiling at you. You smile back, open the rear passenger's side door, and step inside. You close the door and look back up at the man as he turns and extends a hand to you.

"Dean. I'm Mark's father." He says with a warm smile.

"I can see that. Now I know where he got his green eyes from." You laugh. "I'm Y/N, Mark's girlfriend." You take his hand and shake firmly.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N." He said, turning back around as Mark got in and closed his door. "Are we ready kiddos?"

Both you and Mark nod as Dean starts the engine and pulls away from the curb.

A twenty minute drive later, you were pulling into the entrance to Singer Salvage. You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head, confused as to why you were here.

"Bobby is my grandpa. We all live here." Mark said, seeing your confused face when he turned around in the passenger's seat to look at you.

"Ohhh, okay." You smile nodding your head. "So it's just you, your dad, and your grandpa?"

"My Uncle Sam lives here, too. He...uhh...works at the university teaching mythology." Mark said, opening his door once the car came to a stop in front of the porch of the house.

He opened your door for you and took your hand, helping you out of the car. You stood and looked at Dean as you heard him mutter "atta-boy" under his breath with a smile on his face.

You smiled and followed Mark and Dean inside the house. The house was rustic and full with hundreds, if not thousands, of books scattered all over the place. Some were in shelves, others were open or stacked on the desk or coffee table in the living room. You stopped for a moment as you saw an open book on the desk that had a bunch of strange symbols in it. The book looked extremely old and didn’t appear to be written in English. Mark tugged on your hand, getting your attention to follow him.

You made your way through the living room to the kitchen, your eyes settling on a tall man with long floppy brown hair as he strained and washed some pasta in the sink. He turned as you entered the room and waved. He wiped his hand on the towel that was over his shoulder and offered it to you.

"I'm Sam. You must be Y/N?" He smiled, causing you to wonder how such a large man could have such adorable dimples.

"For as long as I can remember!" You laughed. "Nice to meet you, Sam. You're Mark's uncle?"

"For the last sixteen years, I have been." He smiled and winked at you. "Have a seat. The pasta is just about done."

As you sat down next to Mark at the table, the back door in the kitchen opened and an older man with a faded trucker cap and salt and pepper beard stepped inside, closing the door after him. He smiled at you and offered his hand.

"I'm Bobby Singer, Mark's grandfather. It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N."

"Likewise, Mr. Singer. Thank you for having me over."

"Please, call me Bobby. Even Mark calls me Bobby."

"Okay, Bobby." You nod with a smile as Dean returned to the kitchen and began to lay out silverware.

"What can I get you to drink?" Dean asks as he grabs several glasses from the cabinet.

"If you have milk, I'd love some. If not, water is fine for me. Not a soda fan." You answer, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt in your lap.

Mark reached over and placed his hand over yours and squeezed, offering a reassuring smile. He leaned over and whispered in your ear, "You're doing great. They don't bite, just relax and have a good time."

"Hey, hey, hey. None of that at the table." Dean playfully scolded, causing you to smile as he placed a glass of milk in front of you.

"Alright, pasta is done!" Sam said as he began to portion the pasta on each plate and pour piping hot sauce over each one.

You got your serving first as Bobby reached into the oven and removed a pan of meatballs before setting it on the table next to the basket of sliced Italian bread.

He sat down to your right at the end of the table and smiled. "It makes the meatballs have a nice satisfying crunch. Try some, you wont regret it."

"It's actually how my mom makes meatballs. It's so good!" You smile.

Dean sat down at his spot to the left of Mark, just as Sam placed his plate of pasta on the table and sat down.

"Alright, dig in everyone. I didn't spend two hours in the kitchen so you all could stare at your plates." Sam laughed and grabbed a meatball with his fork.

You smiled and picked up your fork. The metal felt hot in your hand, causing your skin to burn slightly and smoke. Wincing in pain, you dropped the fork on the edge of your plate and shook your hand, confused.

You looked up to see all three men in the room had pistols pointed at you. You yelped in surprise and raised your hands in surrender as Mark slowly slid away from you, his eyes wide in sadness and surprise.

"What are you?!" Dean commanded, his finger sliding from the side of his pistol to the trigger.

"P-please don't hurt me. I'm...I'm not a monster." You stuttered, feeling your eyes begin to burn with tears.

"That was a silver fork, so you're something." Sam said, raising an eyebrow at you. "Talk. Now."

"I'm half shapeshifter. My father tricked my mother and got her pregnant before disappearing. I...I don't hurt people. I'm just...trying to be normal. Please...don't kill me." You said between sobs as tears fell freely down your cheeks.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, silently communicating with each other before looking down at Bobby, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged in response.

Your eyes flitted between the three men as Sam leaned over and not-so-quietly whispered to Dean. "We can't blow away a teenager, Dean."

"How do we know she's really a teenager? Shifters can take the shape of anybody, right?" Dean replied.

"When I shift, it's extremely painful. I can feel every bone moving under my skin as I change shape. I've only shifted four times in my life and they were emergencies. Call my mom, she can explain. I don't hurt anyone. This is my normal shape. I swear." You mutter through shaky breath, trying to calm yourself.

"Dad, I've been to her house. I've seen pictures of her when she was younger, and she looks like a younger version of what she looks like now. She's telling the truth." Mark placed his hand on the barrel of his father's gun and pushed it down. "Please stop aiming your guns at my girlfriend. She can’t control who her father was."

Dean resisted Mark pushing his gun down before he exhaled sharply and lowered it, motioning for Sam and Bobby to do the same.

"You guys are hunters, aren't you?" You said softly, lowering your hands and looking down at your lap.

"We are." Bobby said as he got up and and walked over to the sink. He returned with a new fork and swapped it with the silver fork that was in front of you. "But, you seem like a good kid and your supper is getting cold. Dig in."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this. I should probably go. I'll just call my mom to pick me up." You said, feeling tears start to well in your eyes again as you pushed yourself away from the table.

"Y/N, please. Stop. It's okay. Nobody is going to hurt you." Mark said, putting his hand on your shoulder, stopping you from standing up.

"Says the guy whose family just had their guns pointed at me!" You snapped before burying your face in your hands and crying.

"Y/N, we're sorry. It's a reflex. We didn't know what you were nor did we know what your plan was." Sam said, passing you a tissue.

You looked up and plucked the tissue from his hand, dying your cheeks and under your eyes.

"My name is Y/N. I'm half shapeshifter. My plan was to have dinner with my boyfriend and his family." You cleared your throat and scooted back into your chair. "And I'm pretty hungry."

"Dig in, then. You're safe here." Sam smiled and nodded at you before looking at his brother. "Right, Dean?"

You looked over at Dean, still met with narrow eyes and a cold stare directed at you. He still had his pistol in his hand, resting it on the table. After what felt like an eternity, his expression softened and he sighed, tucking his pistol in the waist of his jeans.

"Thank you," You said, offering a small smile at Dean.

"Your mother and I are going to have a chat, though." Dean reached for a meatball and plopped it on his plate.

"Dad, please don't. I really care about Y/N and I want to be with her. You can't-" Mark began.

"I'm not." Dean looked at you. "It's obvious you love my son and I'm not going to come between that. We just need to make sure everyone is on the same page and we can go from there."

"Thanks, Dad. Love you." Mark smiled and squeezed your hand again.

"Love you too, kiddo. Now eat." Dean pointed his fork at your plate.

You smiled and cautiously placed a hand on the new fork Bobby had gotten you. You smiled when it didn't burn and you picked it up. You stabbed a generous helping of pasta onto the fork and took a bite, closing your eyes and smiling as the delicious taste of tomato sauce and spices danced around on your tongue.

"This is amazing, Sam!" You said as you stabbed a meatball with your fork and dropped it on your plate.

"Thank you. At least we know you're not a demon, now." Sam laughed lightly.

You looked at him confused and raised an eyebrow.

He smiled at you. "I cooked the pasta in holy water."

#supernatural #spnfanfic #supernaturalfanfic #shapeshifter #reader insert #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #newbie #oneshot #one shot #fanfic

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jessieleaf · 7 years ago

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GENCON 2017 (Part 3)

Saturday: (The long post that is basically a blog post)

(Like...This is really long, but super interesting. So much happened and I want to share it all with you guys. I let you know when you can drop off after I relay my interactions with the cast, but if ye be brave enough, there was so much more that happened in that day and I encourage you to keep reading and ask me any questions about it.)

Pretty much describes my costume for that day.

I was super nervous about this costume, especially with how sheer the shirt was and how much it revealed. When my mom first took it out of the box, I couldn’t believe that this little thing was supposed to be what I was going to wear to the con.

Wardrobe malfunctions were bound to happen, so I had to get comfortable with the idea that yeah, some people might catch a peak at a little more than you had wanted them to, but in the end I decided that I really didn’t care. I’d prevent what I could and accept the inevitable. Also, in the Indianapolis humidity, this top was super breezy and comfortable, so I rolled with it and wore the thing proudly. I looked super sexy in it too, so that helped. (And if you are wondering, I had something on under the top, so nothing terrible would have shown in case of a malfunction).

The wings were from a company called Isis (no relation to the extreme terrorist organization) and were extremely fun to dance about in. The skirts took the longest to find/make since I was looking for a specific kind of wrap but hadn’t realized the name of what I needed was a sarong. The gold fabric is store bought, which I used to make the gold layer on the skirt and the bracers. We also used a little on the collar of the wings, just to make the colors blend more. Fun Fact: I wore the same shoes @gatherthewords did the previous day for her Allura costume.

We woke up that morning around nine pretty groggily (heh), as it was the day right after the live show. Halfway through getting ready, Chris began to realize that she’d lost something last night. Her wallet was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t go to the party without her Id. She couldn’t leave the state. She’d be stuck in Indiana until she either found it or got a temporary ID from the DMV or went through an interrogation process at the airport so that security could make sure she was who she said she was.

We eventually reasoned that since she had bought food from the theatre last night, it was probably either there, or in our Uber driver’s car. The theatre had another show that night, but didn’t open until later in the day around 5 pm. So, with a plan in mind to go searching for it after spending the day at the convention, we got ready and headed out around 11:45 to Lucas Oil Stadium to wait in line for the Critical Role signing with the cast. (Fun Fact: I did bring tea cups and little saucers for our cosplay for the fandom headcanon gag, but I forgot them at the house when we left.)

We put on the finishing touches to our costumes outside the Stadium and I tested out my wings for the first time. As expected, this happened.

youtube

Yep. Just as expected.

We headed inside and found the line, where there were about 15 or so people lined up who had tickets and several other hopefuls without. We met http://tieflingofcolor.tumblr.com (sorry the @ wouldn’t work) and popped a squat next to her. It was only 12:30 by this time and the signing was at three, but I had plenty to keep me occupied.

(gif by @mobius_strip on twitter)

Then we took a lot of pictures. I won’t post all, but here are the best.

(Sarenrae and the Raven Queen had too much wine last night)

We then started to see the line form, and I saw some Pikes. I got very excited. Very Excited.

I wouldn’t be Sarenrae if I didn’t fangirl over my favorite girl.

@arielleishere and @janebooks showed up, with Arielle still rocking the Ka’Varn cosplay. She killed it all weekend with that costume yo. We chatted, danced, took more pictures, and welcomed the cosplayers and fans that started to gather for the signing.

Then Frank and Alex appeared, you know, the two dudes from Thursday that I met in line for one of Matt’s panels. Chris went to chat with them while I posed for pictures, and she got Frank’s players handbook for Matt to sign, since she herself didn’t have much for the cast to sign.

Then...the cast showed up. Like...it makes your heart go a-flutter when you have them so close, wandering about, within arm’s reach but separated by a barrier.

I get like everyone else, even though I try desperately to play it off. I try to convince myself with a “HEY THEY ARE NORMAL PEOPLE PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER AND HAVE A GOOD CONVERSATION WITH THEM,” pep talk, but you know how that goes. Never really works.

The cast was looking up at the cosplayers in the stands when they first arrived, but I was able to catch Matt’s eye with a wave and hello, and his face...fucking lit up. Like that man’s smile sent me reeling backwards into the astral plane. I grabbed my wings and did a little demonstration and Sarenrae help me he looked so happy. The crowd behind me oohed a little so I tried my best to get visible for them and waved my wings about. I really don’t know how many of the cast saw me do that other than Taliesin. No one told me how they reacted, and I was too focused on Matt yelling to me and Chris “You look amazing!” I don’t remember exactly, but I do remember Taliesin complimenting us as well. My flipping heart was going to start doing palpitations.

We waited a bit after for the cast to get ready (Most of them were rolling to see what beholder ray they got hit by with @arielleishere ‘s cosplay and Sam had gone over to give @cowboybootsandhuntershelper the biggest hug for her Scanlan sitting on Bigby’s hand cosplay). When they started to let people filter in, they had one line waiting to sign up with their emails for the Scanlan de-call stickers and covers, while others could just go straight through if they didn’t want it. I had no need for the stickers (probably upset my roommate for not grabbing them) so...much to my dismay, we were one of the first people to go up and get stuff signed. And Matt was first.

I had one image I wanted to get signed, after quite a bit of deliberation.

I had cleaned up this image (Which I shall post later when I find a scanner big enough to support it) and knew that most of the cast had probably not seen it. It didn’t do well on Twitter like I had wanted it to, and I had spent far too long and had lost too many hours of sleep to not see this image get the proper respect it fucking deserved (it did ok on Tumblr. More people here watch Steven Universe and enjoyed the cross-over.) Also, I made a promise to @the-jonesy that I would say hello to Liam for them, since they were bummed they couldn’t go. Then, when I realized that I would only have one item for the entire cast to sign, I doubled down and offered to bring an image for Liam to sign. Jonesy provided the wonderfully angsty art, and I got it signed.

Ok, back to me freaking out.

I was laughing and joking around up until that point when one of the geek & sundry officials ushered us forward. I was even teasing Chris because her face was basically expressing how I felt on the inside. Then I got closer to Matt and my heart leapt into my throat. My hands started to shake and I turned to Chris and basically went “ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh there he is.”

Matt, as I’m sure you will all agree, is probably the most respected and one of the most prominent cast members. He is kind, open, accepting, lovable, nerdy, and to me, the kind of person I’d love to be best friends with. I admire his work and everything he puts his heart into, and wish nothing but happiness for him.

I remember walking up and smiling, saying “Hi Matt!”

He brightened up again. Fuck. “Hi! You look amazing!”

“Thank you so much! We were going to have tea cups, but I forgot them in a rush to get here.”

He laughed at that and said something along the lines of that being brilliant. He knew. My mind went around back to it later...but the man knew about the fandom headcanon. I had no indication before that the cast knew about this one particular fandom idea, one that I loved dearly and had done so much thinking and artwork for. They knew about it and liked it. Be still my beating heart I am so happy.

I told him that I had been Kima yesterday, the one who took off her dress, and Raven Queen send my soul back to my body his face lit up again.

“Oh yeah! You guys looked great!” (Reminder this is just a paraphrase since I don’t recall all of the conversation, or what particular order it is in)

I mentioned that I had been a bit anxious about how the joke had gone over when I did it for him after the VIP Q&A. He threw that idea out the window and said that he had loved it. I didn’t feel the heat because I was too dazed but anyone else watching would have probably seen my face turn red.

I gave him my picture to sign, which he gave an “Oh wow!” to, and wrote on top of Trinket with a little “Happy Bear” to go with.

I don’t recall when this happened, if it was at the end or in the middle of this encounter, but Matt took both of my hands in his and looked me right in the face with the most genuine expression and said thank you.

His hands were really soft. His eyes were so flipping big. Fuck you guys. I’d put myself in front of a train for this man. I didn’t stop shaking after that.

I brought my picture over to Taliesin, and talked with him for a bit about the image, since he hadn’t ever seen it before (Like I said, it didn’t make too many rounds on twitter). He really seemed to like it, which made my heart all happy. I really admire the man, almost as much as I admire Matt, and to hear him say that just...aug it feels so good.

Marisha was next, and I told her how much I liked the new design for Keyleth with shaved hair and tattoos. She really liked the tattoos as well, and I told her that they were my favorite part to draw. That’s pretty much it, other than the fact that she seemed to like the picture too. 3/8.

I got to Liam and he looked the piece over while I took out Jonsey’s art. I told him that Jonsey said hi and that they’d wished they were there to meet him. I gave him their art to sign, and then he went back for my art. It was supposed to be one item per cast member, but he signed my art anyways. This was the first time I’ve ever met the man up close, but he had this god-dammed smug ass look in his eye. I had wanted to tell him how much I appreciated his support, how much his attention to what I did meant to me. But this man...I forget exactly how it was brought up, something along the lines of Marisha asking who the artist was, me telling her it was my own work, and then her showing Liam the piece, repeating that I had drawn it. That man looked me dead on and said “I know who you are, I recognize the style.”

FUCK YOU LIAM! YOU SHUT ME DOWN LIKE THAT AND I COULDN’T EVEN FORM WORDS TO THANK YOU PROPERLY! Damn my dudes, I hurried off to the Sam right after that, I was too lost for words.

The conversation with Sam was short after his initial “Oh wow” at the piece. I told him that he could either sign Tary or Scanlan (he chose Tary since he doesn’t get to sign for that character often) and let him know that his Scanlan inspired my own bard. I forget what we talked about after that, apologies. My hands were shaking.

I got over to Laura and Travis, asked them how their con was going, informed them that I had indeed drawn the piece, and thanked them after they signed. Not much happened there.

I told @brianwfoster that he could sign Scanlan, since Sam had taken Tary. He decided to sign under Scanlan’s crotch like the proper troll he is.

(I apologize if this is getting long. You don’t have to keep reading if you were only here for my cast interactions. The day is hardly over, and I have so much more to talk about, so I encourage you to continue, but I understand if you would like to move on.)

I was shaking so much after that, I couldn’t get my stuff put away properly. Chris came over and informed me that Liam had said “Thanks mom,” as she had moved down the line, and she had replied “Goodbye bird son.”

Frank was just about as excited as I was when Chris handed him back his Player’s Handbook with Matt’s signature. He didn’t stop beaming for, like, an hour. We heard screaming and cheering from the hopeful’s line and lo-and-behold, Steve was there playing Der and Der and had rolled a Nat 20. I went over to say hello, and started to chat with him when I saw a few Jenna, Devin, and his dad from Teri’s group. I demonstrated my wings for them and did a little spin. When I turned back around, I stopped to realize that everyone was staring.

My god. I never have had so many eyes on me. I get goosebumps every time I think about it. I asked why everyone was suddenly so quiet, and someone said that, well, obviously they would be when I looked the way I did.

Fuck ya’ll, I didn’t know until that moment how good of a decision this costume was. I usually just walk about in jeans and a red v-neck. I don’t get that much attention often.

I was then bombarded with picture requests, along with Christina (Because I may have looked good, but that girl looked just as stunning and got just as many (maybe even more) requests for pictures.

(picture by Sabina )

Tony found us, having come to the signing in the hope that we’d be there. Glad he was able to.

We had a ton of time to kill before we went to the theatre in search of Chris’s wallet. After we’d taken all the pictures, Tony, Alex, Frank, and the two of us headed to the convention hall in order to parooz around for a bit. We were stopped a ton by photographers, but we eventually made it.

The first booth that we stopped at had some really neat dice, and Satine Phoenix seemed to think so too. She and Ruty were at the booth, and we said hello. They they were on their way out, but had stopped to view dice. At least, Satine had and Ruty was getting impatient because this didn’t appear to have been the only time Satine had stopped on their way out. I bought some cool dragon dice tho and Chris and I got mugs full of dice. Twas a good haul.

After a little while, Chris discovered she’s lost her glasses, which had been stored in her bag.

I can only imagine how bad she must have felt, loosing two things in one day. Important items, vital to her trip and well-being. After taking a breather from the crowded exhibit hall, the six of us went back to the most logical place that she could have left them at. I had observed a gap under the stadium and field earlier where a friend’s water bottle had rolled under. I deduced that since our bags were up against that wall, and that Chris had been taking items out of her bag frequently in line, they must have fallen out under the stadium seats.

Rushing back to the stadium, we grabbed and official, who told us that they hadn’t found any glasses fitting the description we gave, but had one dude go over and look around the area. I followed him over and waited for a moment before he came back, holding the glasses.

One item down, one to go. Chris got pretty emotional and I have to thank Sabina and @rollnat20charisma for going over and giving her love and hugs. Those girls are amazing. Teri sent pictures of us on the field from her spot in the line up in the stands, and I went up to inform her where we were going and where we would meet her. Then, someone asked me in the line who I was dressed as and I did my little wing display, which actually got some claps and cheers. Thanks to all those critters who liked my costume. I was super happy with it’s design and outcome. I’ve got nothing but love for everyone in the community.

Steve decided to join our when I came back down, so the six of us all went outside to Uber it over to the Theatre. Chris deemed us the Search Party. I’m the Bard, Chris is the Druid, Frank is our Cleric, Steve is the Monk, Alex is a Bard-Barian, and Tony is the Fighter.

We get to the theatre, and lo-and-behold, the wallet was found and presented to Chris. Happily, we all decided to grab some grub before the Alpha party, as we didn’t know it was going to be open bar and buffet.

We met up with Teri, Devin, and Jenna in line before Sabina and @rollnat20charisma sauntered up. We all got in and thus a night of drinking and dancing began. Since this post is long as it is, I’ll bullet point a few highlights for you.

- Ivan, Amy Dallen, Satine, Ruty, Ryan Green, @wendydoodles , @megzilla87 , @anodesu , Becca, Amy Vorpal, Sax, @critrolestats , Matt Abernathy and many others were among the Geek and Sundry attendants there. Travis from @theadventurezone was there too, and I’m sure I would have been much more excited to see him if I listened to the podcast.

- I immediately started to dance with Tony for a real long time.

- I was able to talk with @anodesu (who I identified because I had asked to see what she was sketching and recognized her style immediately), Ryan Green , one of the correspondents for the Alpha’s social media, and one of the recent hosts from project pixel on alpha (which, if you are an artist, you should definitely check out).

- I danced off and on all night, but I came back in once to begin to party again and @qunaributts had taken off her Tary facial hair and wig (not that it wasn’t attractive), @cowboybootsandhuntershelper (who had come in a variant of her party gilmore cosplay) had let her hair down, and Sabina was letting her blond curls loose. The song was upbeat, we were dancing, and then those girls...well, I drew something to show you what I felt during those couple of songs:

(I’m such a hopeless bi-sexual. I don’t know how Chris puts up with me.)

- I was telling one man about how I hadn’t yet seen Amy Dallen or Amy Vorpal at the party yet, but he told me Amy D was there and offered to go get her for me. I’m not the kind to have someone just go up and demand the attention of someone I admire and pull them away from a conversation (unless I’m trying to show a cosplay gag, then I have all the confidence in the world). I gave him an uneasy “Eh, I don’t know,” to which he responded with a smile and said he’d be right back with Amy flipping Dallen.

Tony, bless him, asked me if I really wanted the guy to go and get Amy. I shook my head and Tony bolted inside to go and stop him, but he was too late. After a minute, Amy came out, the man who had retrieved her beaming from behind, and Tony approaching after apologetically. I apologized to Amy for taking her from her conversation but she brushed it off. I introduced myself, telling her I’d been at the geek and sundry panel yesterday, that I was the one who showed her and other Amy my artwork for their show Vast. She asked if I could show her my twitter page, and as soon as I pulled it up, she gasped. Oh my gods, she gasped and said she knew me. She looked like she was fan-girling. She asked to give me a hug. I stuttered out an “Ok, of course,” hugged internet sensation Amy Dallen, and proceeded to not compute what had just happened. Amy Dallen had fan-girled over me. Like...I still can’t comprehend.

So...that was Saturday. I talked with a ton of people I have been admiring for ages, got lots of love from the critter community, felt proud and confident in my costume, hung out with the amazing dudes that make up The Search Party (who I miss dearly), found my girlfriend’s wallet and glasses, and danced the night away at the geekiest of geek parties. Despite the several hang ups, it was the best day I’ve ever had. I’m glad I get to share it with you guys, and if you’ve made it all the way through this, I congratulate thee.

Sunday’s recounting is pretty short and won’t have very many pictures, if any at all, but I’ll still have a separate post for it. See ya’ll tomorrow!

#Critcal Role #Gencon #Matthew Mercer #Taliesin Jaffe #Brain Wayne Foster #Laura Bailey #travis willingham #Sam Riegel #Marisha Ray #Liam O'bren #gencon50 #Sarenrae #The Raven Queen

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zell-dincht · 7 years ago

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"Tiger Lily"

Unsure if I’d bother posting to AO3, maybe if I do a followup chapter. But no one is interested in OC stuff anyway, so I’m just gonna put it here for now. Also, this isn’t part of my OC “canon,” don’t know that he’d actually agree to marriage ever, but after talking with @hipsterizzy I just love the idea of Lorne as bridezilla.

No warnings, just some language.

———

Weddings only ever meant two things to Lorne - open bar, and a one-night stand with the hottest bridesmaid and/or groomsman. Other than that, it was a stupid ritual that was entirely unnecessary and even stupid to legally bind yourself to another person this way. He never imagined he’d ever find himself in a situation where he’d be planning any wedding, not to mention his own.

He didn’t readily agree to the proposal, of course. At first, Lorne thought Davin was playing a joke on him and laughed it off, nearly shattering the poor man’s heart. He was no more forgiving when he realized his boyfriend was dead serious, and did, in fact, want to get married.

It was a practical decision, Lorne told himself, nothing more. Originally, he wanted to just elope. Go to a court and fill out the paperwork and be done with it. Davin didn’t want to make a big production out of this, anyway. It was just some legal paperwork, like going to the DMV.

But low-key had never been Lorne’s style. The whole point to a wedding was the open bar, so there was no way he could pass this opportunity to have a party and bask in all the attention. In a matter of days, Lorne went from repulsed by the idea of marriage to having his very own planning book and Pinterest board.

He was so focused on his laptop, scrolling tirelessly through images of wedding ideas, that he barely even noticed Davin had entered the room until a hand rested gently on his shoulder.

“Still at it?” the larger man spoke up.

“Davin, we need to decide on a color theme,” Lorne huffed impatiently. “I can’t go forward with any other plans until we figure out what our colors will be. I still like a deep red with gold, kind of like fire.”

“I guess so,” Davin muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Mum says you ought tae use softer colors for a wedding.”

“For the last time, I do not give a rat’s ass what your mother–” Lorne instantly cut himself off as he looked up at Davin and noticed his future mother-in-law step through the doorway. He instantly flashed his best fake smile as he greeted her. “Hi, Mrs. Dahey.”

If she heard what Lorne had said, she showed no indication. She waved with a tiny wiggle of her fingers and replied, “I told you, just call me ‘mom.’ We’re practically family! But how are the future Mister and Mister Daheys today?”

The strain in keeping the fake smile was growing so tiresome, Lorne suspected he had begun to scowl, so he dropped his expression to what some might call a “resting bitch face.”

“No, actually, I’m keeping my name.”

“Oh, you’ve got time to decide, anyway,” she brushed him off as if he’d change his mind, then continued, “Anyway, I was talking to my lady friend at work, you know I just can’t stop talking about how my baby boy is finally getting married!” Mrs. Dahey paused to wrap her arms around her son as best as she could, squeezing with all her strength.

Being quite tall and muscular, Davin could easily have escaped, but instead idly tolerated her outburst of maternal affection. “Ma…”

“I won’t apologize for loving you too much! Anyway, so this lady friend of mine - her daughter was married just last year and she recommended this amazing florist. Why don’t we all go take a look, if you aren’t busy?”

Lorne opened his mouth to protest, but Davin quickly spoke up, “We’d love to go, won’t we, sunshine?”

The blonde looked up at his fiancé with a pout, and Davin wirelessly communicated with large, pleading eyes.

“Fine.” Lorne closed his laptop with a huff and pulled himself to his feet. There still was quite a bit left to plan, and he wasn’t going to accomplish much by just looking at pictures of flowers.

The car ride was awkward, with Davin’s mother driving and her son in the passenger seat, leaving Lorne to sulk in the back. Once they arrived, the shop didn’t look like much, but the owner was warm and welcoming.

“Congratulations to the happy couple!” he gushed, ushering the trio inside. “Trust me, we will find the perfect flowers for your wedding. All I need to know is your color theme for the big day.”

“Crimson and gold,” Lorne confidently answered.

“Oh, they aren’t set on that, though,” Mrs. Dahey cut in.

Lorne glared daggers at Davin, who responded with an apologetic smile and a shrug.

“If you are open to suggestions, flowers have a language of their own,” the florist offered. “For example…” He gestured to little white flowers blooming in the shape of a star. “The stephanotis here represents happy marriage.”

Lorne barely paid attention as his eyes wandered over the various displays of flowers. Ignoring the stephanotis, Lorne stepped towards a fiery orange lily and leaned in for a quick smell. “I like this one.”

“Er… the tiger lily represents wealth and pride,” the florist said hesitantly. “Perhaps to show you are proud to join hands with your husband to be?”

Husband. That word still turned Lorne’s stomach into knots. But he was too distracted by the task at hand to worry over any of his own insecurities.

“What about sunflowers?” Davin chimed in. “Suits you, I’d think.”

“Yes, the sunflower means ‘adoration!’ It would add a wonderful touch to your ceremony,” the florist encouraged.

“To hell with meaning,” Lorne scoffed. “No one’s going to know that. They’ll only see how it looks, and I want the tiger lily.”

Mrs. Dahey spoke up once again, “What about some some classic white roses?”

“Too common. Tiger lilies and sunflowers, that’s my final decision,” he replied.

There was a pause where Mrs. Dahey pursed her lips, and Lorne had hoped she would remain silent, but he was wrong. “I don’t believe Davin was too keen on this red and yellow theme. Are you, dear?”

“Well?” Lorne set his hands on his hips, glaring at Davin. “Are you?”

Meanwhile, the florist had stepped aside, more than familiar with the tensions that came with planning a wedding. Davin, however, had found himself caught between his mother and his fiancé, despite trying so hard to keep the peace.

“This really isn’t a big deal to me, Ma,” he finally confessed with a sigh. “I just want to marry the man I love, doesn’t matter how. So long as he’s happy, so am I.”

Lorne felt his gut turn into knots and he was just about ready to throw himself at Davin right there in the middle of the flower shop, but of course Mrs. Dahey was quick to ruin the mood.

“This is your wedding too, Davin! I raised my sons to have a backbone, so if there’s something you want, then say so! You can’t let your wife or husband or whoever just walk all over you!”

“It IS his wedding,” Lorne snapped. “It’s his and mine. Not yours. We don’t need your help, Sinéad.”

“Oh don’t you?” She turned on her future son-in-law, head held high and arms folded over his chest. “Who do you think is handlin’ most of these costs, mm? I don’t see your mum ‘round anywhere.”

Lorne’s eyes burned with anger as he glared at Mrs. Dahey. “I wouldn’t let my mother within thirty feet of this wedding.”

“Shame, after she’s given birth and raised you. I taught my sons to have a bit of gratitude.”

“Unfortunately for all of us, mine barely raised me at all.”

Knowing Lorne’s strained history with his family, Davin quickly stepped between the two before this fight could get any worse. “Look, it’s fine! It’s just flowers, we–”

In that moment, Lorne and Mrs. Dahey both turned on Davin, simultaneously ranting at him:

“JUST flowers? This is not just flowers, Davin, this is our wedding, and it’s a pretty damn big deal for me. It’s my big day, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t go the way I want!”

“This isn’t about the flowers, it’s how you need tae be a man and stand up for yourself! Don’t just lie down and get walked all over ‘cause some blonde tart made eyes at you!”

Davin froze in a moment of panic before finally raising his voice, “All right!”

Hearing him shout was such a rare occasion, it caused the others to finally shut up, allowing Davin to continue, “Okay, there’s plenty of time to discuss our options. We’ll sleep on it.”

“But I–” Lorne began to protest, but Davin silenced him with a quick kiss.

“Trust me, sunshine, let’s come back here later, all right?”

If they came later, Lorne realized, perhaps they could ditch Mrs. Dahey, and have better luck with just the two of them planning alone. With a sigh, Lorne nodded his head in agreement.

Before they left, Davin paused to give the florist a friendly wave and apologetic grin. “Sorry about that. Still in the planning stages, apparently. We’ll be back soon!”

The florist responded with an understanding nod and saw the group out the door. The car ride back home was even more unbearable, even with music on the radio that Davin had played in hopes of easing the tension. Lorne kept catching Mrs. Dahey’s gaze in the rearview mirror, and every time, he held that eye contact with a cold, hard stare.

When they returned, Mrs. Dahey was ready to park the car and go inside with the couple, but Davin managed to talk her out of it. She dropped them off in the front of the building, leaving the two men to return to their apartment alone.

“I don’t see why she has to come along,” Lorne huffed as soon as they walked through the door. “I never cared to be married in the first place, so if I’m doing this, I’m doing it my way.”

“I know she’s a bit… enthusiastic, but she’s my Ma,” Davin sighed.

“So, what, just because you happen to share DNA, you have to be her slave your whole life?”

“Look, princess,” Davin calmly rested his hands on Lorne’s shoulders. “I know you’ve never been on good terms with your family, but you’re about to be part of mine. Just give ‘em a chance, is all I ask.”

“I’ll consider it,” Lorne agreed and slid his hands around the larger man’s waist, tugging him closer, “so long as she backs the fuck off my tiger lillies.”

Davin gave a soft chuckle. “We’ll go back to the shop tomorrow without her, and I’ll buy whatever arrangements you like, okay?”

Lorne responded with a silent nod and rested his head against Davin’s chest. After a moment, he pulled away again, looking up at the other man with a concerned expression, “You don’t really hate the crimson and gold theme, do you? If you’re just hiding behind your mother…”

“I meant what I said,” he replied with a warm smile. “If I had to choose, I’d just want something small and outdoors, but I don’t care about what colors or flowers or anything like that. I just want you to be happy.”

Lorne cupped Davin’s face in his hands and leaned up for a deep kiss. Not wanting to pull apart, he began to nudge the larger man through the living room and towards the hall to their bedroom.

“Don’t wanna save anything for the wedding night?” Davin smirked as he allowed himself to be tugged to the bed.

“Oh, please, we’re well past saving anything.” Lorne tugged off his shirt and flopped into the mattress, beckoning for his fiancé to join him.

Davin had done well today, keeping his mother in check and saying all the right things, and Lorne was quite eager to reward him for it. But that’s not why they were getting married, he reassured himself. It was totally a practical choice. No feelings involved, whatsoever.

#my writing #original character #my oc #lorne pruitt #izzy's oc #davin dahey

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vaporeonmaster · 7 years ago

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Get To Know Me

I was kind of tagged by @kokoro4kakashi because she tagged anyone with an R in their URL, hahah :P But it looked kinda fun to do so why not!

Rules : Answer these 92 statements and tag however many people you want

THE LAST : 1. Drink : ice tea. I wish it was coke. I’m trying to kick the stuff though. BUT OMG NOTHING IS BETTER THAN A COKE ON A HOT DAY. 2. Phone call: My stepdad? 3. Text message: My friend who rarely texts back... not sure why I even try hahah. 4. Song you listened to: Pumped Up Kicks 5. Time you cried: A few weeks ago when I moved out of state after living with my best friend for a couple years. I missed her lol

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice : Not really. 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Yeeeeep. 8. Been cheated on: Pretty sure I was. 9. Lost someone special: Yep. 10.Been depressed: Whenever I’m not manic... (I’m not joking) 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Almost, only once, after only one glass of wine, because of a medication I was taking. So I don’t drink anymore.

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14. Blue, Green, Purple :)

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: Yep! 16. Fallen out of love: I think so. Emotions are weird to figure out. 17. Laughed until you cried: Of course!! 18. Found out someone was talking about you: Don’t think so. 19. Met someone who changed you: Kind of. 20. Found out who your friends are: Not sure. 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: No.

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: I’ve met just about all of them in real life. I don’t like adding people I don’t really know or haven’t met at least once. 23. Do you have any pets: One crazy goofball cat, who my mom is currently trying to make hers hahah. 24. Do you want to change your name: I have. I went to court and everything. But now people at the DMV or college office of where ever ask “Oh, when did you get married?” when they see I have a different name. And when I tell them I didn’t, they give me a weird look... 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: Nothing really. My roommate/best friend tried making me a cake and we watched Friends haha. 26. What time did you wake up: 10 am, kind of late. 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: I was half awake, playing pokemon shuffle on my phone while petting my cat. 28. Name something you can’t wait for: my apartment move in date!!! I’ve been staying with my mom for a month now, can’t wait to get my own space again! 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: Today, since I am kind of living with her haha. 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: I never know how to answer this type of thing, because I never know what I could change about my life that wouldn’t change who I am... that being said, I think someone showing up at my door right now and telling me I won 5 million dollars would be okay. 31. What are you listening to right now: My mom watching TV 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yes. I’ve known a Tom since high school who I still talk to (he’s a really great person!) and I’ve worked with a Tom before too. 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: Oh, so many things... I won’t go there! 34. Most visited Website: Tumblr, Facebook, and usually YouTube (but my mom doesn’t have the best internet, so I haven’t lately)

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 35. Mole/s: Yeah. 36. Mark/s: Marks as in scars? I definitely have scars. 37. Childhood dream: Being a vet who has a flying car so I can treat the animals ASAP. (No, I am not joking!) 38. Haircolor: Blondeeee (well, faded pink right now since I last dyed it pink) 39. Long or short hair: I wish I could grow my hair long, but I haven’t been able to since I was like a teenager. My hair is curly so even when it’s long, it doesn’t look like it, so I have to grow it like, EXTRA long for it to just look long. 40. Do you have a crush on someone: Does Kakashi count? But yeah, I’m okay being solo for now. Now big crush right now. 41. What do you like about yourself: My eyes. 42. Piercings: multiple ones on my ears 43. Bloodtype: Nooooo clue. 44. Nickname: Just ones when I was a kind, like Meggy. 45. Relationship status: Single 46. Zodiac: Scorpio 47. Pronouns: She/Her 48. Favorite TV Show: I love so many TV shows, not sure I could pick just one.

49. Tattoos: Yep! Two (well, three, but one of my tattoos is covered up by the other tattoo) 50. Right or left hand: Right. 51. Surgery: No, no actual big time surgery. 52. Hair dyed in different color: My hair has been colored every color in the book at least once hahaha. Naturally blonde though. 53. Sports: I used to LOVE playing volleyball back in the day. It was the only sport I actually enjoyed and was serious about. But I didn’t have the stability in my life as a kid to be able to per-sue it. 55. Vacation: If I could take one, as silly as it sounds, I would want to go to Disneyland in the fall or winter if I could afford it. 56. Pair of trainers: ...what? The only trainer I know how to be is a pokemon trainer, sir.

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: Not gonna lie, I might be getting myself ice cream soon. 58. Drinking: Ice tea. I thought I already told you that. Stop being so obsessed with my drinking habits bro. 59. I’m about to: eat ice cream, unless I stay on tumblr even longer and forget. 61. Waiting for: ice cream. 62. Want: a new macbook. My poor buddy is becoming an old man, and he has been very reliable for many years. I even got him used and he’s still working for me. But now he is getting slower and angrier in his old age. 63. Get married: I sure hope to one day :) 64. Career: I have worked so many jobs, but right now I am working on my Bachelor’s Degree to hopefully get an actual career.

WHICH IS BETTER 65. Hugs or kisses: HUGS. They have way more love in them (that’s how I feel at least). 66. Lips or eyes: Eyes. They’re beautiful,except on creepy people. They are the windows to the soul, I swear. 67. Shorter or taller: Well, I am short. So it’s nice when people are taller than me and can reach things on the top shelf. 68. Older or younger: I’m not sure? 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: I wish I had a nice stomach. So stomach? 71. Sensitive or loud: Why not both? 72. Hook up or relationship: Relationship. 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: A little of both!

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: Nope! 75. Drank hard liquor: I have been tricked into it. 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: Yesssss. But luckily not for long. 77. Turned someone down: Yeah :/ 78. Sex on the first date: Well that’s a pretty personal question. 79. Broken someone’s heart: I hope not but probably have :( 80. Had your heart broken: Yeah :/ 81. Been arrested: Nooope! 82. Cried when someone died: Yes. 83. Fallen for a friend: Yeah. :/

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: Sometimes. 85. Miracles: I like to believe in them. 86. Love at First Sight: Kind of? I believe in chemistry at first sight/meeting. 87. Santa Claus: I am 25. So I hope not. 88. Kiss on the first date: Yep.

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: Katleynn :) 91. Eye color: Blue! :) 92. Favorite movie: Little Miss Sunshine :)

Tagging... I dunno. Anyone who wants to do it!! :) How about @holdmeeeee if you haven’t done one yet? Or @nataliebgdh? Or @team7fangirl? I am probably so late on doing this thing that you all have probably done it already!!

#questions #get to know me #this took WAY longer than I thought it would

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deoxynova-blog · 7 years ago

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Get to know me (tag) Thanks for tagging me! @doodledee-doodleda

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20(ish) people.

LAST:

Drink: Orange Juice

Phone call: My dad

Text message: My brother

Song you listened to: Talking to Myself by George Watsky

Time you cried: Idk

HAVE YOU:

Dated someone twice: Nah

Kissed someone and regretted it: Nope

Been cheated on: Ofc not

Lost someone special: 2 of my dogs past away in the past couple of years. Also a few family members...

Been depressed: Somewhat. Not recently tho

Gotten drunk and thrown up: Can’t legally drink yet

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12-14: Red, blue, purple

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: Yes, and they’re all amazing! ;v;

16. Fallen out of love: Wat

17. Laughed until you cried: Totally

18. Found out someone was talking about you: In a good way? Sure. Bad way? Nah 20. Found out who your friends are: ...Sure? 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: stahp asking me questions about kissing

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: I have 233 Friends on FB, I’d say I know at least 200 of them in person. 23. Do you have any pets: 1 dog, 2 cats 24. Do you want to change your name: Sometimes. It’s so plain and boring .-. 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: That was only a couple of days ago. I first went to the DMV to take my Permit Test (which I failed) and then went out to eat with my family. 26. What time do you wake up: 6:00 to 6:30 am during school, 7:00 to 8:00 am during vacation 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Studying for my 2nd attempt on my Permit Test (which I passed, thank goodness) 28. Name something you can’t wait for: Performing my school’s new show for marching band 29. When was the last time you saw your mom? about 3 hours ago 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: My ability to play sports well 31. What are you listening to right now: Little Slice by George Watsky 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: I don’t actually know any in person. 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: Uhh... nothing. 35. Mole/s: Do I have any? Nah.

36. Mark/s: I have a slight birthmark next to my left eye. It’s subtle tho 37. Childhood dream: Work for a professional sports franchise in some way. Maybe as a marketing executive or some kind of manager. 38. Hair color: Black 39. Long or short hair: I have thick hair, not long or short.

40. Do you have a crush on someone: Not exactly 41. What do you like about yourself: My ability to ace almost anything I put my mind to as long as I really try. 42. Piercings: Nope 43. Blood type: Type AB I think? 44. Nicknames? Double-A Battery (not even joking) 45. Relationship status: Single. Been like that forever

46. Zodiac: Cancer 47. Pronouns: He/him 48. Favorite TV Show: Star vs the Forces of Evil ofc 50. Right or left hand: Right 52. Hair dyed in different color: Nah 53. Sport: Marching Band, Basketball, Football 55. Vacation: The entire state of Florida over the course of my last two summer vacations. 56. Pair of trainers: What does this mean lol

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: Cookie cake 58. Drinking: Milk 59. I’m about to: Answer about 30 more questions

Lmao shit I dunno where the other questions went

62. Want: A human being, I suppose 63. Get married: Sure man 64. Career: Something Marketing or Sports related

65. Hugs or kisses: Hugs! They make you feel so warm inside ;;u; 66. Lips or eyes: Eyes can be beautiful as shit 67. Shorter or taller: I’m already taller than most, sooo 68. Older or younger: Am I older or younger?? 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: I have nice arms? lel 71. Sensitive or loud: I’m neither, really 72. Hook up or relationship: Dedicated relationship 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: Hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a Stranger: No 75. Drank hard liquor: Nah, I don’t wanna die 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: Nope, don’t wear them 77. Turned someone down: I’VE been turned down, if that counts :’’) 78. Sex on the first date: whoa slow down buddy 79. Broken someone’s heart: Actually, I kinda did turn someone down. But it was an online friend, so I barely count it 80. Had your heart broken: yes *weeps* 81. Been arrested: I’m a goody two shoes 82. Cried when someone died: I always do 83. Fallen for a friend: ...yyyYeah?...

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84: Yourself: You’re damn right I do. 85. Miracles: Occasionally 86. Love at first sight: Nah. That’s infatuation 87. Santa Claus: Not aanymore 88. Kiss on the first date: bruh stop

RIP number 89

OTHER:

90. Current best friend name: Too many people to name 91. Eye color: Very dark brown 92. Favorite movie: I’ll just go with the most recent one that happened to be awesome as heck, which was Baby Driver

Tag, you’re it!: @happyvaginalslug @holydramon @space-mist @phaazehunter @loreemarieeblr @jurassuck @queen-buki @kojikuzcoziggy and anyone else who feels like it.

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[RF] The Appraisal

Hello, thank you for deciding to read. I hope you enjoy. It is a bit longer than other posts I've seen on here FYI.

The Appraisal

(Short Story)

Part 1: The Tootsie Incident

During his first term in office, John Mueller, the 47th President of the United States was set up to have a date with Russian supermodel Anastasia Petrovksi. They were seen together on Valentine's Day at the Russian Tea Room in New York, right next to Carnegie Hall. The following day the headline in the New York Daily News exposed “The Tootsie Incident” as referenced by the famous 80’s movie. Ms. Anastasia Petrovksi had once been Mr. Igor Smirnov. The youngest male ever recorded to have a sex change, Mr. Smirnov became Anastasia at the age of thirteen. In the Presidents defense, he claimed to have never known Ms. Petrovski was formerly a man. Regardless of that truth, the press had a field day that made Watergate seem like the latest TMZ gossip.

The outrage amongst citizens and paranoid politicians led to the formation of The Human Appraisal Committee (HAC), who now provided oversight over the general public and businesses alike. For those of you who don't know about the HAC, it is a government organization that ensures all of its citizens have accurate online profiles based on actual facts surrounding their identity.

After the "Tootsie Incident,” the government warned that misrepresentation with social media was a threat to national security. Petrovski was one of millions of misleading online profiles, and so in the best interests of the people, facebook and all other platforms were outlawed or at least ran through the HAC.

At the age of twenty-two years old, every citizen would enter the system, having their appraisal with objective facts, such as their education, ethnicity, net worth, and of course profile picture. The HAC was more than just a way to connect, it was an evaluation of your decisions and your assessed value as a citizen, your social ranking. In the beginning, the government’s aim was to make sure its people felt safe, though they quickly realized they could cash in on everyones obsessive nature with social media.

As Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh stated before enacting the legislation, “The American people deserve to know the truth!” And so now they could get that truth.

At the right price of course.

…..

This brings us to September 13, 2028, Chase McLeary’s 23rd birthday. He carefully placed the red sticker across the pocket of his new blue blazer. The sticker red Hello!, and underneath it read 6747 written in permanent marker. Tossing the sticker’s paper backing into a trash bin, Chase entered a large room that looked just like the DMV but was actually The Human Appraisal Committee’s office for his district of Minnetonka, a suburb of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Chase took an empty seat near a woman dressed in white and gold. She reminded him of a Greek Goddess with all her necklaces and bracelets. Like most people on the day of their appraisal, she was dressed to impress. Chase himself had spent over $150 dollars for a stylist to groom him for today, which was much more planned than last year where he wore his green satin suit from prom and mop top hair cut.

Leaning over to the woman, he inquired with a friendly whisper.

“Hey, hows it going today?”

In that moment, the woman was on her phone, scrolling online through the “newest and hottest seasonal wear for cats.” Chase had obviously interrupted, which was apparent by the sneer she gave him. With her drawn on eyebrow rising, she assessed Chase top to bottom like a stray dog. Accessing the HAC phone application, she pointed her camera at his face, to bring up his profile. After a quick read through, the woman stood up, and moved two seats away.

Chase was obviously of no interest to her.

This didn’t bother him too much though, most people these days would divide themselves based on their social ranking. Looking at the hundred or so seats available in the room, more than half the seats were available, and no one was sitting next to each other.

Twiddling his thumbs, Chase decided it might be better to keep to himself until after his appraisal to avoid any further embarrassment.

Focusing his attention on the hands of the large old circular clock at the front of the room, Chase supposed he had about an hour before he’d be out of there. Then as fate would have it, the most beautiful woman Chase had ever seen sat down right in front of him. Her tight black dress fit around her body like an extra layer of skin. Chase could feel that people behind him had already begun taking pictures of her as she walked, to bring up her profile.

Chase thought he might be in love.

Part 2: The Beautiful Gloria Dominguez

Moments of silence, interrupted only by the ticking of the old fashioned clock in the room made Chase McLeary feel anxious. He could not avoid the perfume from the woman he was head over heels for. First her beautiful physic, now her smell had caught his lust, like blood to a shark in the water. Getting up to get a drink from the metal fountain at the front of the room, Chase pulled his phone out at his hip and began taking picture surreptitiously in the woman’s direction. All he would need is one decent image, for the facial recognition technology to work.

After a dozen attempts, Chase felt confident that he got one good shot, and returned back to his seat to pull up her HAC profile. He successfully accessed her first page which showed the following:

Name: Gloria Dominguez:

Age: 28 years old,

Ethnicity: Italian & Spanish,

Hometown Minnetonka Minnesota

Education Level: Bachelors in Communications, University of Miami

Profile Picture: Gloria wearing a tight blue dress.

“Pay to Access More Information Here”

Reading the final words on her account meant one thing, Gloria ranked higher than Chase in value. Unless you were friends or family through the HAC, the government required an Evaluation Match between strangers to access more personal information such as her occupation, the city she currently lived in, and of course more pictures. Chase had never paid to access a persons profile before, so he decided he would approach Gloria the old fashioned way through face to face conversation.

…..

Then, just as he was contemplating his opening line, the voice of god entered the room which was actually the administrator working at the front of the building.

“6739, please come to room 101” projected out through the intercom.

It was for the woman in white and gold, as she stood up only a few feet away. She began her strut towards the door at the front of the room, directly in front of them both. Her jewelry must have weighed a lot, as with every step she took it seemed to take an inordinate amount of energy. Chase swore he heard a chuckle from Gloria, and saw this as an opportune moment.

“Who invited Cleopatra to the party?” he joked in Gloria’s direction a little too loudly.

Like a harpoon out of a spear gun, his words reached the old woman right as she was about to enter the Appraiser’s office. Instead of entering, she turned around, and scanned the crowd until she found her assailant who was ripening up like a tomato.

Melting away in his seat, Chase was unsure how to recover. He was holding his breath, waiting on Gloria’s response when his body produced a pocket of gas which had been held up in his stomach for the last half hour. The result was a loud croak that made Gloria jump from her seat.

“Ay dios mio” she said in Spanish or (“oh my god”)

With her hand over her heart, Gloria turned around and said something in Spanish to Chase that he didn’t understand. His head hanging low in embarrassment, retreated to his original idea of “keeping to himself.”

….

Defeated from his feeble attempts at conversation, Chase struggled to located a positive thought in his head. He reminded himself that very soon he would receive the good news of his new recorded value for the 2029 year.

Burying himself in his work, Chase exceeded the expectations of everyone in his office in 2028, making over $85,000 in his first year. Sacrificing his time was necessary as his mom had gotten sick, and his father was struggling to pay off his little sisters college tuition. Every month, Chase would wire $1,000 to the University of Minnesota to lessen the burden on everyone.

Though he felt empowered by helping, he sometimes compared and thought negatively when he saw people he went to school with receiving praise and recognition for they’re HAC rating. In one case, there was Stephen Oleander who barely graduated college, but still managed to be in the top 80% because of money his grandfather had left him.

In relation to the rest of the United States Chase was valued at 73%. This put him the Evaluation Bracket of anyone between 0-74%. Receiving that score post college made 2028 tough, underestimating the impact an HAC profile could have in certain social circles. It wasn’t easy to make or retain friends when before he had a chance to talk, someone was already judging him for his C-rating.

Chase pondered this, and began to wonder exactly how much higher Gloria might rank than him. Opening up the HAC application, his hand hovered over the “pay to access more information” button.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at the woman in front of him and decided that he would approach her after the appraisal. Hopefully after his increase, they would be a match after all?

Then, just as he was about to close his phone, a women tapped him on his shoulder, the result was a loud authoritative voice to projecting through his phone. He had clicked the button.

“Please say Yes or No, if you would like to pay to access Gloria Dominguez's HAC Profile"

Immediately Chase tried to exit out of the application, but accidentally turned the volume up and so the voice repeated in its automated response.

“Are you sure you would not like to access Gloria Dominguez’s profile, please say yes or no.”

There were giggles and whispers throughout the room, and Chase felt worse than he did earlier. Gloria only a few feet away had overheard the response, but was ignoring it. In truth, she was used to this kind of thing and learned it was better to just pay no mind than get in the middle of it. Also, her english was broken, so she willing to “play stupid” rather than force a conversation like she had done in previous incidences.

“I am so sorry sir.” Apologized the person who had caused the catastrophe.

At a glance, Chase noticed the woman over his shoulder. She was older and seemed a bit underdressed, wearing a white blouse, jeans, and flats. Her hair was blonde, with streaks of grey in parts. If Chase were not wearing his emotions on his sleeve in that moment, he would have saw that her blue eyes were friendly and sincere.

His angst and fear however had caused him to instead mumble weakly.

“It's okay, it's okay” half talking to her, and half to himself.

Then, the voice of god broke into the room again.

“6747, please come to room 109”

Chase stood up, and straightened himself out before walking towards the left side of the waiting room. The woman watched him move across the room from a distance, she felt quite horrible for what happened. If Chase were to have pulled out a picture of her HAC profile, he would have seen her name was Sasha. She was in the top 90% in the United States.

Part 3: Meet your future self

Opening the door, Chase walked into a room that was about the size of a two car garage. The walls were a cream color, and empty except for The Human Appraisal Committee logo and Minnesota State flag. The logo consisted of large block letters leading to a percentage symbol, sort of like this :

THE HUMAN APPRAISAL COMMITTEE%

Sitting down at the large desk, Chase folded his hands in his lap. There was the same model computer monitor from last year where he would see his score. Last year he remembered, seeing 0 net income, as well as the $20,000 he owed in student loans, now all paid for.

Across from him sat his appraiser for this year.

"Hello Chase, I'm Julie I'll be taking care of you today”

Julie just turned 30 years old. She had worked her way up through the HAC after college, and didn’t disappoint, given her background in sales, growing up working on a used car lot. On the shelf behind her, Chase saw a number of awards from 2025-2027, they each read Top Appraiser of the Year for Minnesota. These were in reference to the commission she would make by selling people back privileged information only the government had access to.

Her tactics were simple: Press on the insecurities of everyone in the most genuine empathetic way possible, and sell them back data behind their life problems.

“So would you like your pictures before or after the news, sweetheart?”

“Could we do after?” Chase answered with a smile.

Julie was attractive. She wore a denim dress and high heels. Her dark hair, green eyes, and pale skin and freckles gave her an authentic look. Chase wondered what her percentage might be.

“Not a problem Chase, we’ll get you taken care of right away” Julie began to run the most updated version of their algorithm, the HAC 4.0.

Within seconds the results were up on the screen.

“All right Chase, lets see here okay, the results are up on the screen. It looks like you are in the 73% for the 2029 year.”

……

“Chase?”

“I’m sorry can you please run the numbers again, that is my percentage from last year”

“Hmmm, let me see. You are Chase McLeary right?

“Mhm”

She continued.

“Did you get a chance to read our updated terms with the HAC 4.0, you should have received notice for it in the mail?”

Thinking back, Chase had received a large amount of mail over the last year. He moved home to help take care of his Mom. In retrospect, there was a chance Chase may have accidentally threw it away with a pile of credit card solicitation’s.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get a chance to read it”

“Okay, well I can understand then why you are concerned then about your score. Our analysts have included more data and factors regarding you personal records, families records, credit card statements, spending habits, economic trends, and even your health records to give a proper diagnosis of your value. You know who we have doing these calculations right?

Chase nodded his head. He knew who it was the same people who predicted sports gambling in Vegas, they anticipated their results to be 98% accurate.

“Yeah its supposed to be very accurate. It just doesn’t make sense, if you saw the year I just had, you would be surprised by these results too.”

Reaching her arm across the desk, Julie took his hand, and locked in on his eyes.

“I understand this is tough. We see it all the time, and it's not always fair, but what we can do for you is help you better understand why you’re so lowly rated.”

Pulling his hands away, Chase felt the pitch coming and so prepared himself.

“How much is this going to cost?”

Not missing a beat, Julie responded

“I can get you a high level overview at a discounted rate for $500 today, and we can send you an updated version 6 months from now. If you want the full year, we can do it for $850 and of course there is tax.” Julie offered a friendly smile, reading his reaction.

Chase felt uncertain. In his heart, he wanted to leave the HAC and never come back. Another year of social inadequacy sounded unbearable. He calculated before today how much he would make in this next year with his trajectory which was more than $120,000.

“Lets just take the picture, and get this over with.”

Standing up, Chase walked over to where the camera was. He thought about Stephen Oleander and what his HAC experience might be like. He imagined him in the same seat as he was in the waiting room, and the type of interactions he may have had. Maybe Gloria would have preferred to talk to Stephen.

“Before taking your picture Chase, I want to run one more thing by you.”

Julie had trotted around the desk and was now literally in front of him. Her heels were 4 inches high which made her Chase’s height of 6”0. She had one final shot to reel Chase back in and so taking his hands in hers she began with a prayer.

“Dear lord, we don’t know why these things happen but they do and we must accept….”

Julie’s eyes were closed and Chase didn’t really know what to do. He hadn’t been to church in over 20 years, though majority of the community practiced regularly. Instead he tried not to focus on how sweaty his hands might feel to Julie.

After about one minute, she opened her eyes and gave Chase a hug.

“Hey, I know the new algorithm is brutal, but I think I have just the thing to help you increase your score for next year. It sounds like you might be interested to see your expected value appreciation over the next 10 years given your hard work this last year. Is that right?

“My expected appreciation?”

“Yup.”

She was not scooting back around to her desk.

“Based on market trends and your performance in the office, the HAC 4.0 considers your current path and where it might lead.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool. How much would that cost?

“Well, if you just wanted to do a single analysis for today, we can do one payment of $275, and you’ll have everything you need in the short term.”

Chase thought it over quickly. What he couldn’t get over were the giggles and laughs he had heard in the waiting room while he genuinely tried to connect with others.

"Okay run it”

“Okay, great!” After pressing a few buttons, Chase heard a ding on his phone for the charge.

“So Chase, you grossed over $85,000 last year, and have a current net worth of roughly $16,987 in savings, which is good. Hmmm it says however that you have over $60,000 owed back in student loans. So basically, your head really isn’t above water yet.

Taken back, Chase became furious. He had paid off his student loans. The ones they were referencing tied to his little sisters college tuition. He heard these words, which felt immoral. He was being judged for helping his sister now?

He didn’t know what to say or feel, because he knew couldn’t hold this against his sister or that because his Mom had gotten stomach cancer and had to quite working to start chemotherapy.

“So that mostly explains why your percentage didn’t go up. Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

Checking the time on the clock, Julie noticed they were approaching the 30 minute mark and she was satisfied that she had closed her deal.

“So Chase, we’ll just slide through the rest of this information and get you on your way”

Chase listened as Julie gave him the numbers which said the following:

In the next 10 years, he could at best be in the top 83% or below. These were all factored by his decisions, but considered heavily that his productivity in the specific market he worked in.

Even worse was his medical prognosis, which told him his life expectancy, 84 years old. In addition, based on his families medical records, Chase had a pre genetic disposition that within the next 5 years, his likelihood to begin balding was 20% dependent on stress levels, and that within 10 years he was 43% likely to be completely bald.”

“Thanks to his mother’s side," there was a good chance he would get diabetes between 35-50 years old depending on his diet and exercise. Also, because of his father’s history of heart problems, specifically of atrial fibrillation, the HAC recommended he look into natural and pharmaceutical enhancements he approached 40.

By the time Chase was propped in front of the camera, he looked as if he had been taken through the ringer. A nightmare of information which was now forever imbedded in his mind. The supposed truth of the future, all derived from an algorithm considered to be 98% accurate. It was an algorithm created by the same people who “used to” predict the results of sports gambling.

If Chase was a gambler, he would safe to put money down that by 45 years old, he’d be a bald middle class diabetic, one twinkie away from a heart attack.

The room was set at 68 degrees, though Chase had burned up to over one hundred. Sweat was beginning to build up around his forehead, and he was breathing irregularly. Small droplets of hair gel were making their way down his forehead into his eyes causing him to cry.

“Are you okay Chase?”

“Yes, its just... I did so much this last year, and I…”

“Here take a Kleenex” Julie responded cutting him off. The clock read 2:04pm, which was 4 minutes longer than Julie liked for a deal size less than $500.

“So how can I get into the top 83%?” responded Chase wiping his face.

“Just use the metrics in that overview, and work on the area’s that need fixing, okay? Thank you so much for coming”

Part 4 - An Unexpected Turn

Walking out of the HAC, Chase considered what the next step might be. He had a busy day at the office ahead of him, however in his depleted state, he considered just going home.

Taking a seat in the pick up area, he held his hands together and looked out to the clouds as they formed and separated in the sky. A light breeze from the North came through, which felt good on his forehead. Untucking his white dress shirt, he took off his jacket, and folded it across his lap which felt much better.

Pulling out his phone, he check out his new updated picture. His formerly groomed haircut was untamed, taking its natural curls. There were stains on the shoulders of his jacket from the expensive hair gel her purchased. Worst of all were his eyes, which looked lifeless and sucked in, like 2 marbles that had been left out in the sun for too long.

“Time to set some new goals” Chase thought, and so he began highlighting all of the area’s the HAC had pointed out. The thought of another of social isolated came to him again, and he wondered how his life could be so hard?

Then, as if on cue, Gloria Dominguez walked out of the HAC. She was now dressed in workout clothes, and seemed to have a heightened amount of energy. In truth, her HAC Profile had just increased 2% into 80% thanks to her husband. Chase didn’t know this, and couldn’t because they hadn’t spoken and he couldn’t access her profile.

With her headphones in, Gloria bopped around the ride share area as if ready to run out of a tunnel into a football stadium. Chase watched, intrigued by her physic, and confidence.

Pulling out his phone, he decided to do something out of character and snapped another picture of Gloria, and this time, with his headphones in. The same button appeared from last time. “Pay here to access more information.”

Chase clicked the button and within seconds he received a call from the HAC representative.

“Hello this is Mike with the HAC, am I talking to Mr. McLeary?”

“Yes, um yes hi”

“Great. How are you doing today?”

“Doing well.”

“Thats great to hear. I see you were inquiring for Ms. Gloria Dominguez. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I’d like to see what it would cost for more information.”

Mike was located in Boulder Colorado at a call center that strictly took inbounds like this. When he wasn’t at work, he spent his time snowboarding or mountain biking depending on the season. His goal was to eventually become an appraiser, so customer service was a step in the right direction for him.

“Certainly, and before we get into price… Was this for personal, professional, or emergency reasons”

“Um, Personal reasons I guess.”

“Oh alrighty then, well I am obligated to ask. Do you know or have any relations with Ms. Gloria Dominguez?”

“No, not really”

“Got it, well thats not a problem Chase, we can certainly share some more information with you, though it will be at an increased rate due to your non existent relationship with her, okay?”

Picking up his head, Chase saw that Gloria was still bopping around to her music. Shaking her hips left to right as if ready to hit the dance floor, Chase felt like such a creep. Behind her were a few older men sitting and staring.

“Oh, I'm sorry how much will that cost”

“Well considering your percentage of 73%, and hers of 80% let me run the numbers in our database.”

“Alright sir, thank you for your patience. Access to Ms. Gloria Dominguez’s personal profile is going to run you $200 for 1 hour, and since you’ve made a purchase with us today, we will also give you access to one phone call and an additional email sent through the HAC. How does that sound?”

“Oh, I’m sorry thats a bit high for me. Thank you though."

“Chase, Chase Chase, before you go”

Mike deepened his voice, and again Chase knew he was being pitched.

“Let me level with you before you go."

“Lets say you did take Gloria out on a date, how much would you expect to pay for the night.?

"I don't know maybe $100 or a little more depending on how it went."

“Exactly dude. I see girls ALL THE TIME, and they love to see when guys are willing to pay for this type of stuff. It makes them feel valuable, kind of a new age romantic gesture. Its damn near 2030, this is how we’ve got to do it these days. You know what I’m saying?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.

“Alright, so the best I can do is a text message for $50 dollars, 20 words whatever you want.”

Chase closed his phone, and took a deep breath. The clouds overhead were now blocking the sun. And he decided that it would probably be better for him to go to work, rather than feel sorry for himself. He agreed that this year he would focus on making more money and fixing all of his problems. One day he would be in the 83%, and maybe happy eventually. In his phone he began typing out his goals for the year, when he received a tap on the shoulder.

…..

“Hello, I just wanted to apologize again for what happened earlier.”

It was the woman who had bummed into him earlier in the waiting room. Chase noticed now that she had very kind eyes and friendly smile.

“Thats okay, I don’t think I had much of a chance anyway.”

Chase said this and laughed though inside he felt uncomfortable.

Taking a seat next to him on the bench she continued.

“Oh yes, that girl over there is very pretty. Is that who you wanted to talk to?”

Chase looked and saw Gloria now bent over touching her toes showing her full figure to the masses.

“Yup, thats her.” Chase said embarrassingly.

“My late husband was a lot like that girl, in certain ways.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear of his passing.”

“Thank you, its quite all right though. He carried a lot of demons with him in his final days, I wish he were happier towards the end of it all.”

Chase was unsure how to move forward in the conversation. Most people preferred to stray away from people they didn’t know. Why was this woman opening up to him about her personal life? Strange he thought to himself, this woman must be really down in the dumps willing to talk to someone like me. Still her eyes seemed genuine, so Chase continued the conversation.

“I’m sorry, when did he pass away?”

“This last year, a week or two after new years. He had a heart attack.”

“How long were you two married? Almost 23 years, he was 52.

The wind blew again, and Chase sat there still. Contemplating what was appropriate or inappropriate to ask, then She broke the silence in a laugh.

“You sort of remind me of him. I heard your comment earlier about the woman with the all the jewelry, I swear some people go through such inconveniences in life.”

“Oh yeah” Chase smiled to himself.

“That may have been inappropriate” Chase said out loud.

“Oh it's all right. She has her own story which she tells herself and thats her deal. Still, it’s not right to treat people so poorly”

“Yeah.” Chase took a deep breath, and continued “But thats the point of the HAC, and having our appraisal’s, to keep everyone safe and understand what we contribute or bring to society?”

“Hmmm.”

She didn’t answer at first, and then continued.

“I think it is up to you to decide what you contribute to society. Like that woman Gloria, her husband of one year is twice her age and worth quite a bit, though I don’t believe the business he is in actually contributes positively to society.”

Chase wondered how this woman knew all of that information. She must be at least in the 80% or higher to have accessed Gloria’s profile, and to access even her husbands was privileged for the highest classes. Why wasn’t she at least dressed the part?

“My husband began working for a company, after we had our daughter. I didn’t know much about it, except that it brought us a lot of wealth. What happened in our relationship was an increasing distrust of each other. After the police showed up to our house a few days before Christmas, we found out that we would lose everything.”

Chase knew in that moment, exactly who she was. The newspapers had covered the story for almost 6 months, because it was such a scandal within the Minnetonka community. Engaged, he let her finish the story.

“My Henry had started lying to me for many years, and because of it I lost nearly everything except my Laura. When Henry passed, all the material items were taken away. The house, the cars, the jewelry, and savings all given back to the government. So yes, I’ve seen what can happen when we use the value of things to determine the worth of our lives. It can poison the mind and make you forget that other people have feelings to.”

Chase sat there, and digested everything she just said, and let these words settle.

“The question you might want to ask is: what is the most important thing in your life, if you lost everything today?”

“Are you, Henry Goldman’s wife.” Chase asked.

“Yes, I was once. My name is Sasha.”

The two of them shook hands, and for the first time that day Chase felt a little lighter than he had before. The calm breeze picked up again, giving him the chills.

“Mom, well that was fun. They clocked me in at 75%.”

Turning around, a girl a few years younger than Chase stood with her arms folded. Chewing a fresh stick of gum, she had her hair in pig tails and had the same friendly blue eyes as Sasha. Dressed in jeans, sandals, and a white Woodstock t shirt, she waited for her mothers inevitable introduction. She reminded Chase of Kate Hudson from the classic movie Almost Famous.

“Chase, this is my daughter Laura.”

“Hello.”

“How do you do Chase?”

“Not bad, just got told my whole life story. And you?”

“Meh, I don’t pay attention to the statistics, I prefer to think of myself as the sole author of my own story.”

Laughing at this, Sasha invited Chase over for lunch. He only had to call in his work to explain he would be taking a personal day. The three of them entered the autonomous driving car, and left for Sasha and Sophia’s house for a cup of coffee.

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houseinva · 7 years ago

Text

At the start of round 2 I was indifferent towards the idea of sex with Ben. In fact, I leaned more towards not wanting sex at all with him. But Ben sure was a charmer, at least when he wanted to be; he knew how to make all the right moves, say all the right words, and put me in all the right positions (no pun intended) to make that indifference turn into an infatuation and ultimately an addiction.

And so I became Ben’s side-piece, only I thought I was at least part of the main course. I didn’t know that I was balancing out Ben’s real main course, his relationship that was void of sex and affection, by giving him all my heart, my body, and all the attention and energy imaginable. I grew to adore Ben like no other.

I gave Ben authentic love, which is precisely what he sought; he ended up getting the best narcissistic from me in the universe. True, authentic, unconditional love isn’t easy to come by these days…

…whereas finding a side piece is. Being fooled into believing you’re the main squeeze when you’re really just a mistress is enough came to destroy my entire sense of self.

At the time I was clueless as to what was really taking place. I had no idea what narcissistic supply even was. I legitimately thought that Ben really dug me, I thought that we were an “item.” Only we weren’t’ really an item, I was an item, an object, an extension of Ben to use as he saw fit. In the beginning he saw fit to use me for good things and I loved it, I didn’t question his motives, I thought he was honest, loving and inherently good.

But good things never last for long; at least that’s what I’ve come to discover… and there’s really nothing good that ever comes out of narcissism. You’ll never read a story about a narcissist that has a happy ending, that’s for sure.

Before I get ahead of myself, let me stop and go back to the amazing times I spent with Ben at the starts of round 2, unknowingly (and eventually even knowingly) as none other than his side piece, as nothing but a piece of supply. I fought for my spot though, not knowing what I was signing up for....

The sex went from an okay learning experience for me to… out of this world, incredible for us both. Sex with Ben was something I never imagined possible between two people, at least not with one of those people being me. Our one day each weekend quickly turned into marathon, hours-long sex sessions, one event after the next. He was gifted in bed and he knew it; plus he knew how to add on all the bells and whistles, there was nothing he wouldn’t do sexually, nothing he couldn’t do well sexually, and nothing that was too taboo for him. Plus he was hot, he was extremely handsome, he was fit, he had a gorgeous body, he was flexible, he was versatile, and he knew how to put on quite a show; it seemed like Ben’s purpose on Earth was to spread sexual enjoyment. While Ben always claimed to be a versatile top, suddenly he wanted to bottom all the time for me. I had not seen us going in that direction but Ben was accurate in his assessment, and I truly fell in love with his bum, I did. That ass was solid, it was large, it was beautiful, and it was amazing. While I learned the basics of sex from my ex, it was Ben who took things to a whole new level. He always gave me pointers on how to improve (and I’d do them, and watch as he became more and more impressed), and so I credit Ben for being the one that actually broke me into the world of sex. He was a connoisseur when it came to sex, and he was adamant about instructing me on the right way to do things in bed. I also credit Ben for being the one that corrupted me in truly exposing me to the “dark side.”.

Ben prided himself on my sexual progress, he loved mentioning how bad I was when we first met compared to how much I’d excelled in bringing him pleasure on the regular. Watching me grow sexually and singing my praises also made his already large ego grow to ginormous proportions. Thanks to his one-on-one instruction in the sack, I turned into his preferred sexual partner in the DMV. Ben was definitely heavy on the flattery and flirtatiousness, which made my insecurities disappear, his words were hyperbole at its best:.

“You’re my favorite top, hand’s down. Any time you want sex don’t hold back – just text me. If I’m having sex with someone else I’ll even get up and leave so you can fuck me!”

I wasn’t always sure what to make of Ben’s grandiose words, as they sometimes seemed a bit back-handed, often sending me in two different directions, scratching my head. Like with the above he was clearly singing my sexual praises… yet did he intentionally throw in the part which, to me at least, reiterated that I was not worthy of monogamy or being his boyfriend one day? Or like these… they just seem a bit back-handed or perhaps phony, I don’t know…

…maybe I was just overthinking like Ben would often suggest.

But regardless of mixed messages, his actions always showed me how much he enjoyed being with me instead of anyone else, and he had no shortage of options.

I felt almost honored, like I’d hit the jack-pot, for Ben to have picked me to “make over” and fill my time with this bind-blowing pyrotechnic sex.

I was definitely the more old-fashioned one in the couple when it came to all things sexual, that’s for sure.

Ben could bring out the sexual side of us both, while I remained hidden, tail between my legs, and I’d still come out feeling more and more confident each time. Before I knew it, Ben spending his one weekend day with me was a given I grew accustomed to. There was one day when he came and left 13 times for sex in leas than 24 hours! It was odd but I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity, us being together was definitely not boring, and with time it just kept getting better and better.

Soon I found myself craving Ben: his smell, his taste, his everything just turned me on to the point where if I saw him walking into my building from afar, I got butterflies in my stomach. I had just become comfortable having sex with my ex when everything went to hell, and since then, I’d been a sexual recluse. I hadn’t been sexual up until Ben reentered my life and things went from nothing to balls-to-the walls. It got to the point where the only person I could imagine in a sexual light was him, and when I tried with others it was always a let-down, I couldn’t help but compare everyone to Ben, who was a master when it came to anything sexual. Ben was sex-bombing the hell out of me, I didn’t have to leave my house for anything, he always came to me, he always initiated sex, he always took away the awkwardness I felt with other, and left me with no insecurities about myself. Ben was one that seemed very confident in his looks and performance, it’s like he viewed himself almost as a sexual god. He dubbed himself my sexual “coach” and transformed me into what he claimed he saw in me when we first met.

“When I saw your dick, I knew what you could become,” he told me, which I found strange, given that he’d never once complimented anything about me during round 1, if anything it was the opposite. “I knew when I first met you that one day we’d be just like this. I’ve got you exactly how I wanted you.”

Despite the fact that the statement seemed inaccurate based on my recollection of history, hearing that made my self-esteem rise above sea level, it rose to the heavens, I felt on top of the world at last. He wanted sex in every way, shape and form, sex in every possible location, he brought all these sex toys and oils and just about everything under the sexual sun to house in a cabinet in my bedroom. The things that came out of Ben’s mouth or through his fingers via text never ceased to amaze me…

While I continued sensing some occasional back-handed compliments, or “jabs” as I’d call them, I could never prove he was actually doing this or intending to leave me second-guessing things. So I chose to just accept them all as compliments, and I truly believed every word he said. Why wouldn’t I?

Minus the gratuitous sexual content, the majority of what Ben said was so beautiful and so full of kindness and positivity that I stopped trying to analyze the situation and accepted what I saw via his actions: Ben wanted me as an integral part of his life. Before I knew it, he was over both days each weekend, then during the week after work. It turned out his boyfriend actually liked working - which was all he did - leaving Ben with nothing else to do but me.

Ben showed me more attention than I’d ever received in my life, he paid me more compliments than I’d ever thought possible, and he gave me more sexual pleasure in 18 months than I’ll probably have in the rest of my lifetime. During round 1, Ben ended our stint on a sour note – but in round 2, he managed to exceed anything I’d thought could exist in real life romance. He was beyond a gentleman, he was… my angel, he was my savior, he’d given me a reason to live and believed I was still worth something. HIV left me feeling so alone and without hope for a future, but having Ben there with me changed everything and made having HIV a moot point. I couldn’t have found a more loving, kind and perfect man to be at the center of my universe. Except that I wasn’t the center of his universe sadly. But overall, looking back, those were some beautiful, memorable days; every spare second Ben had, he was either by my side, or hitting me up to make plans to be by my side. He’d text me on Monday, asking me to pencil him in the next weekend. And before I knew it, it wasn’t just one day each weekend, it was the whole weekend, and then it after work drugin the week, too. Making plans? Why bother; it’s not as if he had to talk me into anything at that point, I was hooked, I’ll admit it, I was addicted to Ben. Addicted, no joke, that’s the only way I can describe it. If I went 2 days without seeing him it felt like I was going through a withdrawal.

But it was rare that I went 2 days without seeing Ben, so it wasn’t all that bad, at least not at the time. Ben wouldn’t let me go 2 days without seeing him as making plans with me was his top priority.

I’ll never forget waking up one morning to someone holding me in bed. I just about had a heart attack when I realized it was… Ben.

He was such the opposite of how he was during round 1. Not one, single time – in 18 months – did we see each other without having sex, sex, and more sex. But it was more than just sex: Ben became my best, closest and tightest friend.

Ben was not only my best friend, he was also my one and only PPIC – Poz Partner in Crime. For the first time ever, I consistently forgot all about having HIV. Ben made for an incredible escape, but unlike round 1, he wasn’t here for the short-term he made very clear.

I’ve never had someone sweat me like Ben did, it was such a compliment, it was so much fun.

And not once did I ever consider wanting to spend that time with someone else, I was perfectly content passing every free moment with my Benjamin. He was soooo good to me, he beyond catered to my every wish, need and fantasy that it was like being in heaven. Ben changed my life completely..

While I was the one that insisted on footing the bill for whatever we were ordering in to eat, or for occasional gas money since Ben always drove to me, he didn’t spend money on me ever, nor did he need to. He often came by having gone to the 7-11, bringing me 2 things I loved: Gummy Bears and Simply Lemonade, the best. It was a kind gesture, just thinking back on him carrying a bag into my place still makes me smile. I don’t think there was anything Ben could have meant more than those gummies and lemonade, and of course, our amazing time together.

Ben could come off as a bit haughty and reserved at times, perhaps standoff-ish with others, like he didn’t want to interact with other people and was introverted. So the fact that he had so much interest in seeing me all the time made me feel so special; the fact that he was giving me God’s gift to the world of sex on the regular, when my life had been sexless for practically its entirety, gave my existence a whole new meaning. I had found a diamond in the rough, and I believed that diamond was here to stay with me forever.

If someone had told me that in several months, our relationship would be the complete and polar opposite, I’d have said that wasn’t possible, I’d have thought they were smoking crack honestly; this sort of friendship was so monumental it was divine. And if someone had suggested Ben’s fame and notoriety would reach far outside of DC, landing him with fans throughout the nation, the backing of the federal government, and access to everything from the most advanced technology to a “get out of jail free card” for enjoying all the sex, drugs and risky business imaginable, I’d have been 100% certain they were smoking crack.

Looks like somebody’s smoking crack – oh wait – that”s just Ben!

Things in the world of narcissism are like the Twilight Zone, I hate to admit that I now know narcissistic personality disorder so well I could probably lecture on it... but at that time, I was blind to reality, I could only see Ben’s beautiful ass and was blind to everything else. We couldn’t be in the same room together for more than 2 minutes without our clothes coming off… nobody’s ever had that effect on me…

I appreciated everything Ben did for me, I looked forward to every moment I had with him, and somehow my time with Ben laying around my condo turned into the highlight of my life.

I was certain that nothing could ever break the bond we shared. Given the amount of time Ben spent focusing on me, on getting together, I thought these beautiful times were here to stay.

Ben swore that nothing could come between us, nothing at all, and I believed him. For whatever reason, Ben became perfect in every way, shape and form to me.

Well, in almost every way, shape and form; there was one thing I didn’t find perfect: Ben’s nick-name for me wasn’t very complimentary.

At first I thought it was cute, but then it seemed a bit ageist at the same time. I was maybe 5 years older than him, but when it came to life experiences, Ben was eons ahead of me so I didn’t view him as younger, I always saw him as my equal. I chose not to make a big deal about it and instead embrace it, and from that point forward I was “pops” and he was “son.” I often sent him little memes by text, with images of fathers and sons, in hopes of making him laugh whenever I could. But I won’t deny that constantly being called the name of a father, or often a grandfather, didn’t eventually takes it’s tole and make me feel like I was a geezer.

But at the time being, nicknames were cherished, they were interpreted, good or bad, to at least mean one thing: I was special to him, and I even had a special name.

Even if that nickname reflected an old geezer, he seemed to look after me quite well. At least I thought that’s what he was doing at that time… looking after me… although later on I’d wonder if Ben wasn’t looking at me under a microscope. That would eventually be the million dollar question…

Talk about charming, talk about selfless, talk about a freak-in-bed nymphomaniac, but in a good way, Ben was at my place every spare second either one of us had, and I took it as a huge compliment because Ben was super picky, Ben could have anyone he wanted but yet he wanted me. But on top of that our friendship seemed to get stronger by the day; Ben made a point of telling repeatedly how much our friendship meant meant to him above all else. Although he always came over taking off his clothes, acting as if sex wasn’t an option, it was a must, and I happily followed his lead.

Ben was just sooooo into me that I was beside myself:

“He must have finally saw the true me, and that I’m not like all the other guys out there, that I really do care about him, that my words aren’t fake, that I treat people kindly,” I often thought to myself, knowing that Ben had experienced a lot of the opposite in his formative years. It never dawned on me that maybe Ben’s interest in me was something completely different altogether…

To say Ben went out of his way to form a bromance with me wouldn’t do it justice; he sweated me like nobody’s business, he gave me everything I ever wanted (and even things I never wanted as I didn’t know they existed) in a partner. As time marched on, even at the 18 month mark, we hadn’t lost interest in sex, nor saw it become the slightest bit boring. Strangely things only got better, even hotter, for the both of us when it came being intimate.

At the 10 month mark of round 2, I found myself suddenly enthralled with Ben sexually, I was craving him when he wasn’t there, and I always made sure to be my Sunday (and Saturday) best every weekend.

Us spending all this time together, us having sex nonstop, us planning on doing things we never did but spent an awful lot of time talking about… Ben initiated all of it, he had the balls that I was missing. Ben groomed me into what he wanted me to be in bed. For 10 straight months I’d say we averaged 20 hours a week having sex; and it never got lame, not for me, not for him – he couldn’t get enough – he was even sneaking out after midnight during the week to come over and fuck all night long. So much for my fears of Ben disappearing on me…

It was like the heaven’s had finally smiled down upon me and given me exactly what I was always looking for in a lover.

While I grew to really love Ben a great deal in those initial 10 months I didn’t feel threatened by or jealous of his ex, of have a problem with being the “side piece.” Ben had truly hooked me up in giving me his body to use as a blank canvas so I could figure out the ins and outs of sex; then again, he enjoyed every carnal moment of it, too. In those 10 months we never had an argument, we never bickered one single time, we were inseparable the moment we were in each other’s presence and forever making love. It was weird, it was inexplicable, but it seemed to work perfectly just how it was.

Ben was so dominant, and I was so submissive, yet…. I was the top and he was the bottom, although he always pretended he wasn’t. But he was so overtly sexual in all he said, in all he texted, in all he did, he was the ‘ying to my sex-less yang. He enabled me to break out of my shell and finally feel like I was desirable, even with HIV.

Unlike my ex, this time the sex, the bond, for both parties not just for one, this was finally authentic – it wasn’t fake, it wasn’t psychopathic, this was the real deal – and Ben had a heart behind his, well, penis. Ben was truly the full package, but I still didn’t allow myself to develop feelings for him outside of loving him like my bestest friend.

Damn, he was quite the little man-slut; and I loved every bit of it, it was everything I couldn’t be myself, it was fun. Ben definitely grew to be my favorite guy in my history of guys, hands-down, every night with him was an adventure, every moment spent with him was full of laughter and hot sexual tension.

I was love-bombed beyond my wildest dreams (and nightmares). Ben made me his number 1 guy (next to his sexless bf, that is) and he was determined, assertive and didn’t take no for an answer; in fact, he didn’t really have to ask, I never said no, I wanted whatever he did, and plus I trusted him.

This was every gay man’s dream come true. I couldn’t believe what I was experiencing, it was amazing, he was everything I ever wanted in a guy… with all this sluttiness I didn’t know existed added in there. It was blast. This wasn’t just a fleeting interest, this was something special, whatever it was.

Ben pulled out every trick in the book to show me he was an honest, loving, caring friend who truly loved me. I’d never been treated like this in my entire life. This was a unique friendship that I thought would last a lifetime, Ben was someone I could always rely on, he always followed through with what he said. He was amazing, he was perfect, he was… using a lot of techniques specific to narcissistic abuse, particularly the first phase of the relationship, idealization or “love-bombing,” only I didn’t know it yet, nor did I know the true power something like this could have over me, or over many people for that matter. This form of manipulation and brain-washing is a power like nothing I’ve ever encountered, it made me trust Ben no matter what, it made me obey him no matter what, it made me crave him no matter how horribly he treated me, it made me do things I’d have never considered doing otherwise. It left me addicted to and longing for Ben despite all the abuse that was to follow. There’s a reason why psychopaths, sociopaths, narcissists, and even cults use this very same technique to brainwash their victims: because it’s effective, very effective, in converting you into their slave. There’s a reason why it’s so difficult for people to go “no-contact” with a narcissist when it’s a no-brainier decision they know they should do yet they can’t. It makes one trust a predator no matter what, it makes one crave this person like a drug, and it makes one believe the unbelievable and do the unthinkable at their command. It bypasses logic altogether, it creates a biochemical bond enshrined into one’s brain by a slew of neurotransmitters. If someone tells you that another person cannot control you without your consent, they’re dead wrong. They haven’t experienced it is all, but I’m jumping the gun again.

Ben was monumental in my life honestly, especially given my loneliness living now with HIV. When someone touches your life (and you) in such a way, that’s a person that becomes extremely influential and special, it’s someone who, no matter how much time passes, just thinking about them leaves you feeling giddy.

I didn’t realize that Ben was a predator, and he’d marked his territory, he’d gotten me hooked, and I became dependent on him like a drug. Yet I still felt content despite knowing that I was losing control. I thought our plan was clear-cut and established: we had a bond that was special, and it was going to last forever this way. The problem was Ben never bothered to share his real plan with me ever, instead, he just reiterated this other plan that wasn’t really a plan for him at all, it was a “my truth”: a term later coined to describe Ben’s lies. They weren’t really lies but rather they were what he wanted to be true when the words left his mouth.

Eventually I began to notice, like in round 1, Ben would finish his sexual praises of me by adding on things like, “But, I don’t need the sex, I could take it or leave it, and we can always just be friends.”

This would throw me for a loop: he was the one that wanted the sex all the time, he was the one that said this was always how he saw things from the get-go, he was the sexual aggressor, too; and he was the only “real” sexual partner I’d had in my life, in my opinion at least. Yes, I’d had sex with others, but outside my ex, I’d never felt comfortable having sex, I never actually enjoyed and loved having sex. Our sex was instrumental in making me a sexual person, our sex wasn’t just sex, it was something that was life-altering. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever experienced. And hearing him say that made it all seem like it was meaningless to him. Hearing him say that also seemed to be a power play, a control maneuver, like it didn’t really matter to him if he never had sex with me again. He knew at that point he’d hooked me, and our sex meant everything to me.

Then one day he threw out a line that was all too familiar:

“I think me being here all the time, giving you sex all the time like I’m doing, might be getting in the way of you meeting other guys, and getting yourself out there. Plus I don’t want you to get too attached. I think I’m need to stop the sex between us like it’s been.”

While this initially may sound like Ben was looking out for my best interests, to me this took me right back to round 1, where he controlled the sex between us, and I had no voice in things. He’d given something he knew I’d cherished, he knew how lame and sexless my life had always been before, and now that I had it, now that I was loving it, now that he’d conquered what he’d come for, he could flex his muscles and feel all the more powerful by threatening to take it away. Now at least that’s how I interpreted it, although I was biased ever since round 1. Suddenly I felt like Ben again was using this as a means of instilling fear and controlling the sex we shared like he was the dictator, and I was to obey whatever he said. Only this time I spoke up:

“If that’s what you want, then so be it, but I’m not having sex with you anymore, Ben. You did this in round 1: you made it sound like you were doing me a favor, but it comes off like – honestly – you’re trying to put me down and control me. If you want to have this relationship with me like you said you always planned on having, you need to stop worrying about me and my feelings, I’ll look out for myself; instead look out for you own feelings. That’s the only way this can work.”

Ben thought for a moment, and agreed to this. However, he’d rewrite that statement down the road; he’d claim that because I told him to not worry about my feelings that this also translated to telling him to let go over his feelings and fall in love with me concurrent with his other man. Like my words actually had that impact on him, please. But one day he’d blame my request that day for the reason why he found himself caught between two men. I never anticipated him translating my statement to mean something like that, although I’m sure he didn’t actually believe it either, but rather found a way to turn what I’d said back around against me as that became one of his favorite past-times, flipping the script as i referred to it.

But Ben made true to his words and stopped making the occasional, disparaging remark that did a great job at putting me in my place and feeling like I had no leverage, and finally… I felt at peace again with what we had. Ben surprised me one day when he referred to us having dated - yes he said dated - the year before, in round 1. What, what, what?!?!?

“You said we dated, Ben, did you know you said that?”

“Well, we did, for 3 or 4 months we dated, yes we did.” I was so shocked, and pleased, I felt validated finally for the first time ever with Ben. All that time when we were together during round 1, he made a point of saying that we weren’t dating. I was so ecstatic, not to have officially dated Ben, but because he finally validated the fact that we had something special, whether he wanted to admit it or not at the time:

“You’ve dated hundred of guys compared to me, Ben. And I have to admit something… the fact that you were so instrumental, so influential, and such a key part of my sexual awakening – but the fact that you minimized it, you denied it, you wouldn’t even acknowledge or validate that reality, it really made me feel small. Because something that meant a lot to me meant… nothing to you, or at least based on what you said. But hearing what you said today made me feel alive. Finally you admitted that I actually was an important part of your life for the first time, too. Thank you, Ben. You have no idea how much that meant to me.”

Things continued as they had been, only the sex seemed to be happening even more frequently, our relationship only got stronger and better. This was a friendship so unique I’d never heard of anything like it. And, no joke, I respected his relationship with his beau completely, and despite knowing it was failing, I never wanted anything more than what I had with Ben: awesome sex, no drama, no-strings-attached, and no power plays. I actually gave Ben advise all the time on how to save his relationship, I often played Devil’s advocate and took his boyfriend’s side when he mentioned their issues. And his boyfriend’s side I often took legitimately, hoping to open Ben’s eyes and view things a bit differently. I didn’t want them to end. Perhaps a bit selfish, I believed if they ended, Ben and I might end, too. I knew that Ben was getting everything from me that he wasn’t getting from home – and things at home weren’t going to change, that I was sure of, as when a relationship becomes sexless, and both partners are getting it elsewhere, you can drag that along for as long as you want but it can’t be fixed at that point. I feared that if they broke up Ben would have no reason to stick with me, he wouldn’t have his boyfriend’s off schedule to fill his time finding a place close to his work where he could do as he pleased and not worry about me trying to make a scene in his relationship. Call it selfish, me saying what I did to help and keep them together, but I also said what I did because I truly thought I was speaking the truth, whether it benefited me or not. I wasn’t really looking at the big picture then anyway, I couldn’t take my eyes off the here and now. Ben always swore, even up until the very end, that no matter what happened with him and his boyfriend there was one thing that would not ever change: us. He swore by those words, then again he swore by many words, and in the end there were a lot of swear words, that’s for sure. But words sworn and promises kept and all of them ultimately broken... that’s another chapter but we’re not there yet.

Ben still was devoted to his boyfriend despite never saying anything positive about the guy – for example, he never missed picking him up after work, although he said that was because he had to stay true to his word. Just like he did with me, me went above and beyond to make sure he was a man of his word and he was accountable to the things he promised others. I found it impressive, it was like he was forcing himself to break out of his nature and stick to doing things for others, he was adamant about being a man of his word. He admitted to me one day that he did have narcissistic “traits,” but claimed that this way of thinking, behaving and living was against his life philosophy and so he chose to live a different path. I believed him; I picked up where my blog had left off and began this, because I was now convinced my blog could have a happy ending. I believed that people with personality issues, narcissism and the like, got a bad rap; that all those negative articles you’d read were one-sided, written by people with bad experiences. You never came across an article actually written by someone with the disorder, you only saw the opposite. So this portion of my story was intended to show the other side, only I didn’t know at all what I was dealing with at that point, that the other side was pure evil and hell fire. Instead I was distracted by the beautiful promises, and all that sex, sex, and more sex.

For 10 months our fling was absolutely perfect, we didn’t have a single argument. He couldn’t have seemed happier himself, and I was ecstatic, too. Ben and his beau had ended up not breaking up, but they weren’t having sex or getting along either, at leasat according to Ben. So instead he was always with me, my friends all thought we were together. Ben was growing increasingly angry and hostile towards his boyfriend and his never-ending cheating, too, and it looked like their break-up was once again imminent in the very near future. When Ben spoke of his boyfriend’s lying and cheating, I found it a bit hypocritical. According to Ben, he was cheating on him with random guys here and there all the time; whereas Ben was having an all-out affair with me and spending more time over than he spent at home. Ben only had negative things to say about his boyfriend, though, he vented to me all the time and as a result I never heard anything good mentioned. I never imagined that he actually had feelings of love for him.

Instead I wondered why he even bothered remaining in the relationship, although when I asked he told me something that I wasn’t expecting: “He was the first guy that made the noise in my head go completely silent.” Hmmm… that was rather interesting. I asked him about me, and he responded: “You on the other hand are quite the opposite. But I’ve learned to tune out all your noise, Alex, I’ve learned to deal with you quite well, unlike during round 1.”

Regardless of my noise, Ben continued to treat me like royalty. I believed in my heart of hearts he felt really bad for what he’d done to me in round 1: I’d just been intentionally infected with HIV by my ex, he came along and could have been my rock, but instead he treated me like shit and discarded me; that discard was one of the most painful experiences of my life. And all over as stupid word: narcissist.

Only I never once considered that word had maybe enraged him to the point where all this song and dance was merely a way of silencing me for calling him out on his secret.

I never once considered this a possibility; with Ben’s never-ending attention, constant sex, incredible compliments, and his offers to help out with everything, what I saw was someone that genuinely wanted to see me succeed and find happiness. He was perfect to me. Only that he did have a boyfriend, and didn’t seem at all phased about dragging me along, subjugating me in a role that was somewhat demeaning.

Ironically, Ben’s concern about me isolating myself from the world kinda turned out to be how things ended up for me. But I was clueless as it was happening, little by little, instead I was captivated by his words, overflowing with kindness, and oozing with charm and admiration.

Our feelings became so intense that one night Ben professed his love to me: he said he loved me just as much as his boyfriend, he called me his boyfriend without the title, he swore that if forced him to make an ultimatum, he’d never pick one over the other; must be nice for Ben to have the luxury of so many offers at his disposal. He swore nothing would come in between us, and I believed it. I remember the look in his eyes and the smile on his face when he speaking these words: it felt like the room was growing fuzzy, I felt like he was hypnotizing me to be completely honest; it felt slightly fake even, but it still felt beautiful. And I chose to go along with it, it felt like it was coming from a good place, from his heart, although in hind-site I doubted Ben could truly love to be honest. That was just my gut instinct, whether I wanted to acknowledge it at the time or not…

I was in utter disbelief; I was certain from round 1 that Ben falling for me was not possible, yet somehow the impossible managed to occur. I was shell-shocked, I was perplexed, I was ecstatic.

I’ll admit that I eventually began to take Ben’s “love,” attention, and sexually grooming me for granted; he came over so frequently, the thought of things ending didn’t cross my mind. Our relationship wasn’t just physical sex and talking about love. Ben could find no fault with me, he seemed to be enamored with everything about me, and he made me happy.

Ben never stopped stressing that our friendship was so solid, so important to him, that nothing could ever impact it; time and again he reinforced that nothing – not his current boyfriend, not any future boyfriends – would ever impact what we shared. He was a gentleman, he was glowing light, and he was a master con artist and manipulator, he took pathological lying to a level so advanced that when I became aware of his lies, I didn’t bother questioning him. I can’t put into words the power a narcissist can have over his prey… it’s something that’s not even believable until you actually experience it. I even read up on the disorder while he was courting me, and continued throughout the relationship, only I didn’t believe a word I read as being applicable to Ben. I believed it was a “spectrum” disorder like autism, Ben being only a slight big effected. Or maybe I’d gotten it all wrong I thought, there were soooo many times when I was certain he’d done something horrible to me, only to have him come over with a smile on his face, saying he forgave me for going overboard regarding whatever it was that I accused him of doing. Perhaps I was wrong about Ben having narcissistic ways? Or perhaps the textbooks got it all wrong? Or perhaps the textbook got it right: I would be the one always apologizing, he would be the one always acting like the victim, and every time I’d catch him in the act he’d gaslight me into doubting myself.

When I expressed concern that I could be scapegoated as the cause of Ben and his boyfriend’s problems, suggesting that it might be easier than facing their actual inner demons, he was quick to reinforce that I was incorrect:

Out of any guy I’d met in my life, Ben turned out to be the best one, I felt so lucky to have him in my life, I was so proud to claim him as my bestie. He was so kind, so thoughtful and so good to me; Ben was definitely wild and crazy but yet well-behaved, he was “just right.” He was social when he needed to be, yet still reserved and perfect to be with one-on-one, which I loved. Ben was always so damn mellow and peaceful. I never saw him get upset, at least not yet in round 2. He was always so polite, never rude, never boastful, he was so humble yet he was secure, he was attractive, he was vivacious sexually, he was everything I needed, everything I’d ever wanted, I felt so comfortable with him and I’d never, ever felt this way in my life, not even with my ex during his fake honeymoon phase – this was truly a gift, I’d finally met my match. It was like Ben had been made just for me almost, nobody had ever complimented me this well. As pathetic as this may sound, my experience with round 2 and Ben was the absolute highlight of my life; I’d do anything for that boy, and he knew it, too. I adored him, and I could tell he loved the attention. It was amazing, and I felt like finally – at last – I’d met a true, loving friend that was meant to be.

I always felt safe when I was with Ben. He always left me feeling like nothing bad could happen to me as long as I was with him. I’m not sure why.

One day out of nowhere, Ben stopped texting every day like he’d always done; when I continued texting like normal, he became a bit short with me. When I tried talking to him by phone he seemed distant and cold all the sudden, not saying much at all before hanging up abruptly. Despite these changes, I was blown to smithereens when everything suddenly did a complete 180 in the blink of an eye.

Ben said he needed space, only he was rather abrupt and vague with his words, he didn’t explain anything at all honestly: he just kinda blurted out that he needed a break out of nowhere, and it went straight over my head initially. Ben needing “time off” seemed odd since he did all the making plans, initiating our time together, all the sex, everything was on his time already – I just took whatever he gave – so he already controlled our time together and our space apart. I wasn’t texting more frequently than before, and he was the one that started doing it daily to begin with. It seemed like a double standard and I couldn’t understand why Ben was blaming me for his sudden change in character. He was suddenly not the person I’d just spent 10 perfect, blissful months with.

Just like in round 1, everything came crashing down in a whirlwind of drama, everything I thought was real and truthful, showed itself to be the polar opposite. Here Ben had set the pace for everything, and the moment I started going along at the same exact pace – I didn’t do anything he hadn’t been doing the entire time – he then slammed on the breaks and didn’t give 2 shits about doing this to me. Why all the sudden was he saying he needed space, and a break, and time to focus on… his boyfriend? Wait a second, who’s that, I thought it was… kinda me? HUH? His boyfriend… that guy who was only described in positive words by me, and not Ben? What, what, what?

I hadn’t gone after Ben at all; I didn’t have any feelings towards him until he brought up being in love with me 10 months in. I’m not trying to lay the blame all on him, but in all sincerity, this relationship had been his creation.

He was suddenly a different person, he was exactly the opposite of who I thought he was. Here he’d said he had me exactly how he’d wanted me, how he’d envisioned having me all along since round 1. So what the hell was this going on?

Not once did I ask him to give up time with his boyfriend to be with me, that was all his doing. Never once did I ask him to stay when he’d leave my house to go and pick his boyfriend up. I actually gave Ben good advice on his relationship, it was advice that wasn’t aimed at derailing it either, but rather advice on how to keep things on the positive. I was shocked reading his texts, initially I thought he was joking. But then I realized: Ben was flipping the script, he was painting me out to be the aggressor, the one going after a guy that already had a boyfriend, whereas this had been the opposite of what he said. Was he delusional? How could he not be seeing reality? Our entire relationship was Ben’s creation. But I didn’t read Ben’s mind apparently, and failed to realize that despite his harsh words about his boyfriend, that he was still in love, and they were having issues and he needed space apart to deal with them. Yes, he’d asked me to back off but without any other explanation, it was kinda text-shouted among other things, I didn’t get it at first as it was thrown in among other things. He was so hard to read, often what I read him as being I’d later discover was incorrect. Suddenly he wasn’t happy and kind like he was before, suddenly everything changed. And suddenly my perfect Ben wasn’t so perfect after all, he went off on me like a wild animal, he had no mercy, no concern at all for my feelings at all. This was bizarre, this was strange, and I couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

Thinking about Ben’s words that summer, and how much they contradicted all he was saying now… it really hurt, I felt betrayed, I felt beyond confused, I felt like I was in the twilight zone. Only I wasn’t; I was at my house, holding my phone in my hand, shaking. And this was actually happening.

I truly believed Ben viewed me as his second boyfriend, I believed in his promises of our friendship lasting forever, but all of this was suddenly meaningless to him, and I was crushed. The boyfriend without the title, me being on the same playing field as his boyfriend, his selflessness, his kindness, his helping me get better, those were all things he said without me ever enticing him to do so.

Could he have done those all to maliciously ensnare me into letting my guard down and letting him take over my mind with lies? He said these remarks all out of his own free will, how could he suddenly flip-flop like this? I assumed he was under stress and displacing his anger on me at the time. Then several days later I got word that he’d broken up with his boyfriend. I tried to be as polite and understanding as possible, and I told Ben that he’d be missed as we’d initially made plans that Friday night, me tellng him to be good despite the breakup. Only his reaction took me by surprise, it wasn’t something I had expected given my words weren’t rude or mean-spirited..

I didn’t know how to respond; I didn’t know why he was so pissed off… how was I guilt-tripping him with anything? But the next text I sent came back saying that it couldn’t be sent, Ben did exactly what he did in round 1: he blocked me. I was beyond pissed off. This was the ONE thing that I hated more than anything, as it triggered me right back into feeling like I was in the past, in the midst of abuse, and I was livid, I was sad, and I felt desperate, I felt like a part of me died that day.

Ben had broken the one promise I made him agree to in order for me to participate in his vision of us being together. I became angry, and one thing was certain: I was not going to let him get away with it again. No way in hell. Ben was going to be held accountable for that one damn promise, after all, I’d stayed true to my word in everything I’d said I’d do for him.

Ben came into my life, he’d brought me the warmest, brightest, most intoxicating love I’d ever experienced; he’d made me all these promises I didn’t ask for – and they all were nothing but words in the end. I was somewhere between having a seizure and a panic attack as I tried reaching him by phone using various numbers, only to have him hang up as soon as he heard my voice. If I thought the feeling his first discard left in my stomach was queezie, this was 10 times worse. I was set on a mission to make him keep his word… after all… he knew about the psychopath in my recent past. For him to do something like this, which resembled that incident quite a bit, went against his entire mission statement: to help me get better. This didn’t help me get anything but worse. Why the hell did I even want him in my life if he’d done this to me… twice? Why couldn’t I clearly see the writing on the walls and leave? All it took was noting his smell on my pillow, or anything that reminded me of Ben, and my mind was right back stuck on him. And it wouldn’t stop being stuck either… at least not for quite a while.

First and fourth songs written / performed by me, and as always, for Ben.

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Scroll down read about covert narcissism in the Huffington Post.

Imagine that a dear and beloved friend gave you the gift you always dreamed of — your very own Rolex watch! Not only did you treasure the gift, but you have been ecstatic ever since your incredibly generous and kind friend bestowed you with this wonderful and thoughtful gift. Although surprised with the gift, it didn’t shock you, as you were privy to stories about his generosity and kindness to others, who similarly longed for something he was able to give them.

A few months after receiving your gorgeous Rolex, you notice that the crystal has taken on some scratches, which seems unlikely since Rolex watches are known for their scratch resistant sapphire crystals. Three months after that, the unbelievable happens: the watch begins to lose time! You don’t dare mention it to your friend for fear of appearing ungrateful and disrespectful. You choose to keep it a secret, as the watch is more than just a timepiece to you; it is symbolic of the closeness that you and your friend share. After all, you think, it’s not a big deal that your beautiful watch loses only a few minutes a day. No harm, no foul.

To your great surprise, six months after first receiving your cherished gift, your scratched and poorly functioning but beautiful Rolex stops working altogether! Confused but curious, you bring it to a watch repair shop, where you learn that the treasured gift from your treasured friend is a fake; nothing more than a $75, made in China, counterfeit!

With the best intentions, you kindly and sensitively email your friend to let him know he was duped into buying a counterfeit watch. You recommend that he pursue some form of compensation from the criminal jeweler who sold it to him. Although “duped” and “criminal” may not have been the best choices of words, you trust your friend to take it in the spirit in which it’s intended. His response confuses you, as the shared experience of disappointment and frustration you expected was countered by anger and defensiveness. He blames you for prematurely jumping to conclusions, judging him, and being irresponsible and reckless with the valuable gift he unselfishly gave you. The situation gets even more bizarre when you realize that the group of seven men who belong to your shared social circle are carbon-copied on this particular email conversation.

Shocked and dismayed, you reflexively respond to him alone with a firm “chill out” and “back down” message, while asking why he would include the guys from your group in this conversation. This response lights him up like a match thrown into a puddle of gasoline. In a fit of indignant anger, he demands that you return the watch to him so he can disprove your “baseless and vindictive” allegations.

Following your well-meaning attempts to calm him down, diffuse his defensiveness and get him to stop blaming you, you notice that his personality shifts to one that is aloof, cold, and disinterested in hearing anything more about your experience of disappointment. Being confused and stunned by the sum total of his anger and apparent retaliation for your simple heads-up about the watch, you naturally comply by returning the watch to him. You don’t dare challenge his bizarre request because its abundantly clear that doing so would trigger him to an even higher level of histrionic and displaced anger. Plus, you are already embarrassed because all the guys in your group are now privy to this private matter. Little did you know that, by returning the watch, you also forfeited any possibility of clearing your name and restoring your reputation that has been tarnished by this unfortunate and unfair smear campaign.

You will be left trying to reconcile how and why your friend’s empathy, altruism, and sincerity disappeared in an instant and unexpectedly transformed into a laser-focused crusade to hurt you. After careful consideration, you decide to let the whole situation go, as the cards are already heavily stacked against you. Unfortunately, it’s too late and the domino effect can’t be stopped as you learn through the grapevine that your former friend has masterminded a smear campaign that will culminate in an expressed directive to exclude you from all future group activities. The “out of left field” abandonment by your friends will add another layer of trauma and betrayal.

You will be left with a “WTF” set of feelings, while trying to piece together what happened and why. Similar to other victims of covert narcissists, you will sadly realize that your “friend” and the friendship were never real. You may also come to the deeply disappointing conclusion that your counterfeit friend deceived you and others by creating multiple layers of fabricated personality traits, which were designed to benefit him. In other words, you will be shocked at the realization that your friend’s generous, unconditionally loving and altruistic persona was nothing more than an Oscar-worthy performance that was developed, practiced and honed through a long list of other discredited and discarded “friends.”

What you will soon learn is that this beloved friend was always a covert narcissist and the friendship you so dearly appreciated and valued was nothing more than a counterfeit, much like the Rolex watch.

Covert narcissists are masters of disguise — successful actors, humanitarians, politicians, clergy members, and even psychotherapists who are beloved and appreciated, but are secretly selfish, calculating, controlling, and vindictive. They create an illusion of selflessness while gaining from their elevated status. Although they share similar basic traits with the garden variety narcissist, i.e., the need for attention, affirmation, approval and recognition, they are stealthier about hiding their selfish and egocentric motives. Unlike the in your face narcissist, who parades his narcissism for all to see, the covert narcissist furtively hides his real motives and identity.

These narcissists are able to trick others into believing they are honest, altruistic and empathetic individuals. They are successful at pretending to be a more likable version of themselves, knowing that if their true identity was uncovered, they would not be able to maintain the respect, status and prestige that they have so manipulatively obtained.

Compared to overt narcissists, covert narcissists are more reserved and composed. By not advertising their deeper narcissistic values and motives, they are able to achieve their goals, while protecting their innermost insecurities and vulnerabilities. Unlike overt narcissists, they expend a great deal of psychological energy containing or hiding their callous, indifferent, and manipulative inner selves. Even though covert narcissists have repressed the full scope and magnitude of their personality disorder, on a semi-conscious level, they are aware that their fantasies are embarrassing and unacceptable.

Because covert narcissists are able to create and maintain a facade of altruism and unconditional positive regard, they are able to function in positions that are traditionally not attractive to narcissists, e.g., clergy, teachers, politicians, psychotherapists and others. Even though they are able to replicate the known characteristics of these positions, they are often deeply insecure and secretive about their lack of knowledge or inability to perform the most essential tasks. For example, a covert narcissist who is a psychotherapist will have mastered the stereotypical career-specific, idiosyncratic behavior patterns such as reflective listening, supporting and accepting feedback, and gestures that mimic unconditional acceptance.

However, this covert narcissist psychotherapist will be deficient in the most critical area of the job. Although they attempt to demonstrate honesty, sympathy and empathy with their clients, they ultimately fall short. They are simply unable to master the key elements of the position, as they are inherently judgmental, controlling and emotionally aloof. These therapists often become agitated at their clients when challenged or questioned. Clients who do not let them control the process will often trigger a narcissistic injury.

These secretive and slippery narcissists react to their unmasking with the full force of their arsenal of weapons that you would never guess existed. When they perceive a threat to their carefully and meticulously crafted public persona, all bets are off! Since their personal and professional reputation is built on a foundation of lies and misrepresentations, they will protect it by any means necessary. Their reflex to attack the perceived threat is fueled by an adrenaline-infused survival instinct that is no different than if they were cornered by a pack of hungry wolves. They will try to crush the threat, while positioning themselves as the victim of a premeditated vindictive and grievous harm.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ross-a-rosenberg/unmasking-your-counterfei_b_10367886.html

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Idealization Commences

Life is beautiful

Blissful Ignorance

Red Flags

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House In Virginia

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Prologue

Home

Imagine

My Life is a Movie

Brutal Irony

The Psychopathic / Narcissistic Bond

Huffington Post: The Red Flags

The Nurse & the Snake

Original Music

The Psychopath

The Psychopathy Checklist, Revised (and Interactive)

Idealization Commences

Life is beautiful

Blissful Ignorance

Red Flags

Eyes Wide Shut

Devaluation Reigns

Different Strokes

Projection

Confronting Him

Email Rollercoaster

Smear Campaign

Epilogue

Recovery

House In Virginia

Watch: Psychopath : Lesson 7 The Blame Game (Projection)

Watch: 10 Traits of a Psychopath

Resources for Recognizing and Recovery from Toxic People

Watch: Lars von Trier – A Tribute

The Narcissist

Narcissism

The Narc

Hoovering

Side Piece

Stuck

Til Death Do Us Discard

The Clone

No Contact, No Fun

Ben in the End

Manipulative Personality Disorders

Why Not Leave?

Huffington Post: The Red Flags

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