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preservationandruin · 4 years

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Rhythm of War Liveblog, Part One Part Four (Chapters 12-15)

Onward! I feel like these posts are pretty long and don’t cover a lot, but then i remember that a lot of Part One every time is setting up what’s happening, and this one in particular we have an entire year’s worth of stuff to fill in, so I guess it’s warranted.

Kaladin hangs out with friends against his will, I remember that Adolin is a Horse Girl, Mraize talks about the interplanetary economy, Teleporting Fucker is a Legendarily Sore Loser, I have high hopes for spren necromancy, and Kaladin asks Zahel for advice.

We’re back to Kaladin, who is...not having a good time. He feels like he has to appear strong for Syl and the others, and not to let his problems affect them; he’s also hit hard by the feeling that Bridge Four is something that was in the past, not something that’s consistent and now.

“Hey,” Leyten said as they reached the tower entrance. “Rock! Got any stew for us maybe? For old times’ sake?” Kalaidn turned. The word “stew” pierced the cloud.

Rock can’t, he’s busy, and Kaladin goes to his rooms--which are sparse and empty, even though he has pretty good accommodations--and tries to self-isolate, which...mood. He starts going into what seems like a panic attack (paralyzed, curling into the fetal position, thoughts spiralling to what Moash was talking about) when the door is near-literally kicked down by Adolin and Syl.

(will i use this every time Adolin does things? probably)

Adolin manages to drag Kaladin out of his room, in what is--honestly--a pretty good way to do it for someone who is depressed--he makes the point that Kaladin doesn’t have to be happy, he doesn’t have to pretend to be happy, but he should be miserable around other people. And he does it in just...a very Adolin way:

“You spend too many evenings alone, bridgeboy,” Adolin said, glancing at the nearby exhaustionspren, then grabbing Kaladin by the arm--something few other people would have dared. “I like being by myself,” Kaladin said. “Great. Sounds awful. Today, you’re coming with me. No more excuses. I let you blow me away last week and the week before.”

I love that “blow me away” is Roshar-slang for “blow me off”

Kaladin tries to lash out and say maybe he just doesn’t like being around Adolin, Adolin dares him to say, with an oath, that he should be alone right now--and Kaladin can’t, because--of course--Kaladin shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Ha,” Adolin said, tugging him along by the arm. “Come on, Brightlord Master Highmarshal Stormface. Change your coat to one that doesn’t smell like smoke, then come with me. You don’t have to smile. You don’t have to talk. But if you’re going to be miserable, you might as well do it with friends.”

This is so good. I think on some level when you self-isolate, what people want (or at least, what I want) is to have someone willing and able to drag you out of it despite the fact that you don’t want to be around people--and I’m so glad that Adolin is that person.

Kaladin demands to know why Syl got Adolin of all people, despite that scene literally showing why Adolin was the perfect person to bring, and Syl responds that she needed someone Kaladin couldn’t intimidate...and, in the end, Kaladin ends up thanking her.

And then we go to Adolin’s favorite bar, where Veil is waiting, where the gang just start hanging out--and Adolin and Veil start talking about trying to set Kaladin up with someone. This is about the moment where I crowed in victory, because while I didn’t see this specifically coming up, Adolin and Veil being drinking buddies who are a) overly-invested in Kaladin’s love life and b) end up talking about attractive people together IS something I called at the end of Oathbringer. Bi Disaster Drinking Club lives.

(Casper, Adolin isn’t confirmed bi-- Listen. listen. give me this.)

“Oh, don’t be sour,” Veil said, smacking [Kaladin] on the shoulder. “You didn’t even glance at her. She’s cute. Look at those legs. Back me up, Adolin.”

I love all the Veil and Adolin banter we get here, because it only gets better--Veil asking for details of one of Adolin’s past relationships, Adolin trying to get out of it, Kaladin getting to enjoy time with his friends even when (maybe especially when) those friends are ridiculous. And then we also get another good moment of Adolin and Kaladin friendship when Veil goes off to gamble--Adolin asks Kaladin for advice for how to help Shallan with her own issues, but the advice Kaladin gives is also good advice for dealing with Kaladin, which Adolin knows and did on purpose. Kaladin asks why Adolin hasn’t become a Radiant yet, to which Adolin says that he’s not a good fit, he guesses--but the real reason, of course, is that Adolin refuses to give up Mayalaran.

Listen--by not giving up Mayalaran, Adolin is proving himself the Edgedancer she deserves and I will die on this hill.

And then things go back to being sad, because Rock is leaving--going back to his people to recieve judgement for breaking their rules by killing Amaram. He says he probably won’t be returning and hugs Kaladin, who gives him a few other members of Bridge Four as an escort--some of his kids, including Cord--the Shardbearer--stay in Urithiru.

I deeply suspect this will not be the last we see of Rock, because there’s no way in hell, but it was both touching and really sad at the same time.

We move back to Shallan the next morning, going through her day while Adolin is out horseriding; I can’t believe I nearly forgot Adolin is a Horse Girl, despite literally everything about Adolin being prime horse girl. Shallan gets a message about a spren coming to negotiate--probably one of Sja-anat’s spren--and she visits her brothers as well, sketching by their fire.

We get that she’s researched DID--or, the Rosharan understanding of DID--and the results haven’t been heartening, with people who have DID mostly being objectified and ridiculed. It also notes that memory loss is a common symptom, which Shallan notes she doesn’t really experience.

Mraize shows up at her brothers’ house, both as a threat--his cover is an older soldier who is known to be clumsy and could, in theory, injure someone around him--and to talk to Shallan. We get more of the goals of the Ghostbloods--they’re trying to set up an Investiture trade across the Cosmere. Which is actually super smart--investiture is pretty easy to come by on Roshar, which is the entire reason Vasher/Zahel is there. I can see Nalthis in particular loving a way to sustain their gods that, uh, doesn’t involve sucking out souls.

Mraize also basically confirms his mole is a lightweaver, which...I’m really hoping this isn’t the case, but I’m starting to suspect the mole is perhaps Formless, or a similar Alter of Shallan’s. She’s had some weird logic gaps that she doesn’t understand, and we just got the mention of alters maybe not able to remember what each other are doing.

Now, I really hope that’s not the case, because that’s a tired old trope with DID--the evil alter ego. It’s really tired and awful for people who have DID, so I hope that’s not the twist here.

Anyway, Mraize gives her her next job, which is going to find Restares--who is in the honorspren citadel of Lasting Integrity. Mraize says when she meets Restares, she’ll know what to do, and that once she completes that, she’ll get all the answers she could want from the Ghostbloods.

We go back to Venli in Kholinar; a new group of Fused are here for bodies, and Leshwi is worried about one of them in particular--one of the fannahn-im, Those of Alteration. We meet the Nine, leaders of the Fused who are in pillars fused to the floor of their chamber, which Venli points out is just dooming the people whose bodies they took to a horrible form of entombment.

Venli can feel Odium watching, which I responded to with “come on motherfucker, 1v1 me.” Listen, I would die, but what a way to go.

The Teleporting Fucker--Lezian the Pursuer--is one of the Nex-im, Those of Husks, who are the Ninth Brand. He doesn’t defer to the Nine and claims Kaladin has to be Fourth Ideal because he “couldn’t be defeated by an ordinary human.” Which is hilarious, because he was. You were defeated by an ordinary human whose powers were blocked. Kaladin is just that good.

Anyway, he claims he now has to go kill Kaladin because his whole deal is that he murders any human who kills him:

“Milennia ago, Lezian was the first Fused to be killed by a human. To avoid the shame of such a death, upon returning to life, Lezian ignored all orders and rational arguments--and went into battle seeking only the man who had killed him.”

So he’s a loose cannon who everyone goes along with because they can’t stop him and because he developed a legend around his stupid decisions? Got it. I’m really amused that this guy’s entire thing is just being Roshar’s Sorest Loser. Anyway, Leshwi disputes his claim and says that she has first dibs on killing Kaladin--Venli notes that Leshwi probably doesn’t even know that she’s trying to protect Kaladin.

Guys, I can’t believe Fused war tactics operate on the dibs system. Also, this feels just like a continuation of my joke that everyone in this series has a type and that type is Kaladin.

Anyway, then we meet the new lady who Leshwi is worried about--Raboniel, the Lady of Wishes. She was one of the Nine but stepped down to become more active; Leshwi talks about how she is a scientist without morals, whose plan the last Desolation was to release a plague that would affect Singers as well as humans and actually did, but fortunately didn’t have as great an effect as she hoped. So now biological warfare is coming onto the table.

Raboniel pushes to seize Urithiru to strike against the humans; she created the anti-powers Fabrial and now wants to reverse the “Sibling’s heart” to nullify radiants in Urithiru, although she notes that Fourth Ideal ones could pull through--and she wants to experiment on the Sibling, who is effectively a deadeye.

This is interesting, because we’ve already seen a deadeye start to respond to people--Mayalaran. Is spren necromancy going to get a day in the sun in this book? Please, please let spren necromancy through the power of friendship be a plot point.

Anyway, Leshwi offers Venli to Raboniel as an aide, while wanting Venli to spy for her on Raboniel’s plans; Venli is happy about being on this strike, because she wants to see if she can find someone who can teach her how to be a Radiant.

We also get this good note from Leshwi, which--to me--calls back the fact that there’s a whole narrative about if war can be honorable happening here:

“Extinction is the natural escalation of this war,” Leshwi whispered. “If you forget why you are fighting, then victory itself becomes the goal. The longer we fight, the more detached we become. Both from our own minds, and from our original Passions.” She hummed softly to abashment.

We get back to Kaladin, who pushed through the worst of his depressive episode (although I would note that this could support the idea that something Odium-y is making it worse; now he’s in the Tower, it’s Regular Depression which he’s better at dealing with). Sigzil has now been put in charge of administration for the Windrunners; Kaladin tried to make it Teft but Teft was like absolutely not, fuck you for suggesting it.

Kaladin goes to find Zahel, wanting to talk to him, and finds him doing laundry; on the way he talks to Rlain, who is overseeing people growing plants by gemlight and music, which is how the listeners used to do it. Rlain gets excited at the mention of an honorspren who will work with him, but when Kaladin explains the situation, he demurs--understandably.

“I will wait for a spren who will bond me for who I am--and for the honor I represent.”

Rlain--in particular Rlain, who knows the experience of being forced into partnerships and jobs you don’t want--doesn’t want a spren who sees him as a burden or something that they don’t want to bond, and that’s completely valid of him.

Anyway, Kaladin finds Zahel hanging up bright scarves in the laundry; Kaladin asks Zahel if he should join the martial ardents as a solution to what he should do next, noting that Zahel “couldn’t give up the sword.”

“Oh, I gave it up. I let go. Best mistake I ever made.”

YEAH, AND NOW YOUR SWORD SON IS TERRORIZING ROSHAR, VASHER.

Well, not terrorizing. Mostly it’s just with Szeth, who is...somewhere around here, probably. Somewhere Zahel is avoiding at all costs bc Nightblood would take one look at him and just start yelling.

Zahel spars with Kaladin, fully exploiting the colored cloth around them and his own style of fighting while talking to Kaladin about why he fights. In the end, he says he can’t sponsor Kaladin--because Kaladin still loves fighting too much for him to really be an ardent. Kaladin also notes that Zahel fights like Azure--Zahel irritably corrects that she fights like him.

God I really want to see Azure and Zahel on the same page. Vasher you can’t run forever.

There’s also a meta discussion; Zahel talks about the different levels of invested beings, and how he’s had to update it from the time in Warbreaker he did the same thing. He notes that for people like him:

“We’re spren masquerading as men. That’s why she takes our memories. She knows we aren’t the actual people who died, but something else given a corpse to inhabit...”

So that’s both interesting and rather somber; “she” in this case is of course Endowment. I’m not entirely sure what to make of this bit, other than that it’s sad and interesting in that it draws a comparison with the Fused, who do a similar thing but instead of taking the shape/personality of the corpse they’re inhabiting, kill it and replace it.

Also, I’m not sure Zahel is right, here, because Lightsong did remember his past as the story went on, and did remember emotional connection to people from his past. So there might be more there than Zahel is giving it credit for.

#row spoilers #row liveblog #the stormlight archive #venli and the long con #ghostblood activity

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theotherwasdeath · 4 years

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the ethics of being a sugar baby (stevetony, rated T, 1.8k)

At first, Steve doesn’t even notice.

In his defense, he’s had much more important things on his mind. Namely, Tony’s chest and immediate access to it.

Later, he’ll look back on all of these nights and call himself stupid, clumsy, too caught up in the scrape of Tony’s beard against his chin and Tony’s hands in his hair to care about anything else. The catalyst for his realization is, admittedly, quite small. It’s something Tony says to him, after they’ve worn themselves out and collapsed onto sweat-damp sheets.

“God, you’re gonna make me replace my whole wardrobe at this rate. Not that I mind, of course…” Tony trails off as he turns to him and runs his fingers lovingly down Steve’s bare chest, which is covered in rapidly-fading bitemarks.

That pulls Steve out of the hazy, post-coital space he’d been floating in. He wraps his arm around Tony’s waist, pulls him ever-so-slightly closer.

“What do you mean, replace your whole wardrobe?”

Tony huffs out a laugh as he turns back around, once again becoming the little spoon. “Come on, you’ve seen what you do to all of my shirts. Look at the one on the floor! Completely shredded, you animal,” he says, kicking the blanket off the bed and making himself comfortable against Steve’s body.

Steve tenses up, then, blood running cold. Logically, he knows that Tony has money. He knows that Tony can get more shirts. He knows that this is the future, and Tony doesn’t have to stitch up his shirts with a thread and needle anymore. He knows, he knows, he knows…

Tony elbows him in the abdomen.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“We have been over this, Steven, I am not--”

“--you are not a stress ball, stop squeezing you, yes dear, whatever you say sweetheart.” Steve rolls his eyes at Tony’s theatrics, mouth turning up at the corners despite himself.

Tony exhales in a pattern that could be construed as a laugh. “Go to bed or I’ll sell all of my lingerie.”

Steve, knowing from experience to just drop the argument, lets his eyes fall shut as he tries not to think about how much he’s cost Tony.

***

Steve is nothing if not an expert at shoving down his feelings until they boil over like a lidded pot. As such, the next time he really pays much attention to this thing of his is when Tony drags him to go clothes shopping a few days later.

He doesn’t enjoy the errand much, but Tony had been extra persuasive, with kisses along the back of Steve’s neck, that evil little man, he knows that’s where Steve is ticklish, promises of “it’ll be fun! We never go out anymore, baby, we’re so busy, spend some time with me,” and wide, pleading brown eyes, and Steve didn’t have the heart to say no.

Tony takes him to the corner of 30th street and 10th avenue, into a store he actually recognizes. It’s bigger, brighter, and like everything in the future, very “Tony,” but he remembers his mother’s Neiman Marcus Company catalogs with their pages and pages of factory-made clothes, that year’s new hooverette [x] circled in red.

Of course, the two of them aren’t going to look at house dresses. They probably don’t even make house dresses or corselets [x] anymore, thinks Steve, and even if they did, Tony wouldn’t want to wear them and-- Steve stops himself before he can think about Tony in garters anymore. They’re in public, for God’s sake.

Tony pulls him aside to the shirt racks, hands him a few dozen button ups, and ushers him into the dressing rooms. The silk feels so smooth, catching in places against the calluses on his hands, almost too perfect to be held by him.

A small, guilty feeling in his gut tells him to check the price, but the selfish part of him, the one that wants to enjoy every aspect of being Tony Stark’s latest project, ignores it.

No, instead Steve lets Tony dress him up like his own personal fashion model, and laughs when he puts together the most atrocious eyesore of an outfit in the world [x]. The bright red fedora clashes horribly with the crystal-covered shoes, and Tony had pulled on zebra-print boxers to go with the cheetah-print shirt, telling him “it’s not like anyone who wears these boxers is gonna be concerned with pants.”

Tony drags him out of the store after a couple of hours, after wheedling him into getting another few suits and some shoes, with promises that they’ll go get them tailored for Steve’s shoulders and legs. He thinks about how his old Captain America costume always left him chafed red around his pecs and on the inside of his thighs, and tries to not blush at how off-handedly considerate Tony can be sometimes.

After they get back to the tower, Steve collapses into bed, exhausted from their day out. As he drifts off, the guilt comes back, this time with a vengeance.

Neiman Marcus is obviously a pricey store. Tony must have spent thousands on you today, and you don’t even have the decency to do something in return for him? To even offer to pay him back? You’re so selfish. You should be ashamed of yourself.

Steve lies awake and focuses heavily on his breathing, wills his heart rate to go down, and promises himself he’ll be brave about his emotions tomorrow.

***

That morning, he wakes up like he’s going into a warzone. In a way, he is; entering Tony Stark’s bedroom, uninvited, to snoop around? Terrifying.

Tony is already long gone by the time Steve gets to his floor and creeps his way into the suite. The guilt makes a reappearance even as he asks JARVIS to unlock Tony’s bedroom door, his thoughts all converging on Tony’s even paying for you now. He took a day off yesterday to spend time with you, time he could have used to work on his SI projects, or the mountain of SHIELD paperwork that’s piled up lately, or anything except waste a day at a goddamn department store--

He shakes his head, tries to reassure himself with the knowledge that Tony wanted to go out with him, he wanted to spend time with him, that’s why he asked, but his heart won’t stop beating, oh God, he’s going to die at the doorway of Tony’s walk-in closet--

“Steve? What are you doing?”

He turns his head towards Tony’s voice, and now, of course, is when the second wave of panic and self-loathing hits, taking a nosedive into now Tony knows exactly how weak you are, he had to leave his job to check on you, and he tries to open his mouth, to explain himself, but all that comes out is a strangled noise as his knees threaten to give out.

Tony looks-- he looks worried, not angry. That’s not good. Steve can deal with anger, he knows how anger works. He’s not prepared for pity or concern. And that’s why he does the worst thing he could possibly do when literally backed into a corner: he lies to Tony’s face.

“Nothing. I’m fine. I just… I missed you, this morning.”

Tony’s smarter than that, he’s always been able to see through Steve, so of course he calls him on it. “Uh huh, I missed you too, now tell me what’s going on.” He punctuates this with an eye-roll and an outstretched hand to pull Steve towards his bed.

They sit on the edge of the bed in silence for a few minutes, Steve too stubborn to talk, until Tony can’t stand it anymore.

“You know, I really don’t appreciate having my intelligence questioned, Steven Grant. It’s very unattractive. Here I was thinking that nothing you did could be unattractive and yet, you managed to prove me wrong.” Tony gives him a slight smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Well, Steve might as well get it over with. Rip off the proverbial band-aid.

“How much do I cost you?”

That makes Tony stop smiling.

“How much do you cost me? What’s gotten into you?”

“I just- you said that I’m making you replace your wardrobe because I keep destroying your shirts, and they’re so expensive, and you buy me so many nice things and I’ve never offered to pay you back, and I don’t even know if I could pay you back because I don’t even have a real job, I’m useless and you deserve someone better than me--” Steve realizes, vaguely, that he’s getting more and more choked up, and that there are tears threatening to spill.

Tony pulls Steve close, lets him rest his head against his shoulder, which feels safer than it should.

“Is this all because of what I said in bed a few nights ago?”

Steve means to say yes, but it comes out as a wounded-sounding whimper.

“Oh, honey, you know you don’t need to worry about that. What’s the point of sleeping with a billionaire if you don’t get to be a sugar baby?” Tony’s running a hand through his hair now, and it does a lot in the way of calming Steve down.

“But I shouldn’t be a… a sunk cost for you! That’s wrong, I’m taking advantage.”

Tony sighs at him, then, and pulls Steve’s head up to face him. “Look at me, you’re not taking advantage. I know what that feels like.”

Steve makes an indignant noise at that, because how dare someone try to take advantage of Tony, which makes Tony poke his nose and say, “Hey, do not interrupt me when I’m trying to have a heartfelt discussion with you! We can talk about my tragic love life later, but let it be said that I, of all people, would know what it feels like to know that someone is only with you for the money.”

When Steve doesn’t respond, just stares at Tony with bright eyes, Tony continues. “I love spoiling you. I love taking you out around town like you’re Vivian Ward and I’m Edward Lewis.”

“I don’t understand that reference.” Steve feels his eyebrows knitting together in confusion, a familiar feeling when he’s around Tony.

“Have I not shown you Pretty Woman? You’ll love it.”

“Do you really mean it? You don’t, you know, think I’m selfish? For being like this? For not, uh, contributing?” Steve is just fishing for additional reassurance at this point; he’s done being brave about his emotions for the

Tony smiles in full force, then, and moves to sit on Steve’s lap. “Oh, I’ll show you one way you can contribute. Take off your shirt.”

Steve does.

#stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark

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secondgenerationnerd · 5 years

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Yes for the songficcc

Born to Run

Ok, I know this a super cliche song to associate with Speedsters, but like, I personally really love this song. I love the beat, the songs, everything about this song. I also really love the idea that the Justice League has an annual picnic, complete with a Karaoke battle. So enjoy this fic!

—

The warm June air keeps the heroes war. The shining sun matches the smiles all around the lake. The splashes are nearly drowned out by the laughs. One perfect day for those who protect everyone. One set of twins seem to shine brighter than everyone else.

Jai and Irey West, a.k.a. Velocity and Impulse, look nothing alike and couldn’t be closer. Sure, their infamous arguments can startle the most seasoned hero, but the brother and sister always know the next move. Takes a lot to catch them off guard.

“Well, Ladies and gents. Thank you again for the amazing day and excellent participation in all the games today. Even though the Bat-Family definitely cheated a few times.” Oliver Queen gives a pointed to the family in question.

“You can’t prove that!” Stephanie Brown shouts, earning a laugh.

“Now that that’s out of the way, time to start this years humliation–I mean, Karaoke contest. You all know the rules, anyone can be nominated by anyone, but the performers chose the song.” Oliver Queen looks at his phone. “First perfomance shout be fast because, Jai and Irey, you are up!”

“Wait, what?” Irey looks at her twin, both midbite on their fifth plate of food.

“Get up here, you two. Your team sends their love.” The two glare at their teammates, all of whom avoid eye contact. As they walk to the stage, they switch to Korean.

“Plan of action, Jai?”

“I say,” Jai grins at his sister, “Let’s remind them who’s kids we are and give them a show.”

They pick out their song and each take a wireless mike. Their teammates all immediately regret this decision when they see the evil grins on the twins’ faces.

“I’m born to run,” Irey’s voice is simple but beautiful,” down rocky cliffs, give me grace, bury my sins.”

“Shattered glass and black holes, can’t hold me back from where I need to go, Oh oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh.” Jai’s voice demands attention, raspier than his sister’s but incredible. “Yellow hills and valleys deep–”

“I watch them move under my feet, stranger things have come and gone, to see the world and take the throne.” Irey looks over at her brother. “Don’t hold back.”

“Oh, I, won’t hold back.”

Their voices blend together, resonating throughout the area.

I’m gonna live my life, like I’m gonna die young

Like it’s never enough, like I’m born to run,

I’m gonnaspend my time like tomorrow won't come

Do whatever I want like I'm born to run

Irey tosses her long hair back as she winks at Damian, “I wanna see Paris”

“I wanna see Tokyo” Jai waves a hand in her direction. Lian notices a few other girls staring at her boyfriend with starry eyes. “I wanna be careless even if I break my bones”

I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young

Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run

Two cracks of lightning and the twins disappear from the stage. Irey reappears by their team, pressing a sweet kiss to Damian’s cheek. Jai stands on

“A winding road where strangers meet,” ,“To feel the love of a warm drink.”

“My body moves, it's speaking loud,” Irey gives Damian another kiss to the cheek. A few heroes are sure they see the Teen Wonder blush, “Don't have to say what I'm thinking now.”

“Don't hold back”

“Oh, I won't hold back” Irey holds the note longer than they though she’d be able to.

I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young

Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run

I'm gonna spend my time like tomorrow won't come

Do whatever I want like I'm born to run

They find some of their family memebers, pulling them to the stage. Donny and Dawn Allen laugh and sing along with their younger cousins. Bart, Barry, and Wally look at each other before deciding, fuck it, and dance.

I wanna see Paris, I wanna see Tokyo

I wanna be careless even if I break my bones

I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young

Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run

Irey and Jai stomp their feet in time with the song, their family’s voices joining them.

All these things I've seen and done

I live my life like I'm born to run

All these things I've seen and done

I live my life like I'm born to run

(I was born, born, born, born, born to run

I was born, born, born, born, born to run)

All these things I've seen and done

I live my life like I'm born to run

I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young

Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run

Wally swings Irey around, her laughter making many of the other heroes laugh. Donny and Dawn spin at lightning speed. No doubt reminding everyone why they got their nickname.

I'm gonna spend my time like tomorrow won't come

Do whatever I want like I'm born to run

I wanna see Paris, I wanna see Tokyo

I wanna be careless even if I break my bones

I'm gonna live my life like I'm gonna die young

Like it's never enough, like I'm born to run

Irey and Jai vocalize for a moment as the song ends. They bow before the stunned heroes, not even trying to hide their shit-eating grins. Jai gestures to his teammates, “Y’all forgot one important thing. We’re Wests. We don’t back down from a challenge.”

“And we’re more than willing to show off.” They get off stage, hugging their cousins one more time before heading over to their friends. Jai gets stopped by some female heroes, not noticing his girlfriend’s narrowing eyes. Irey kisses Damian’s blush tinged cheek. “What did you think, Dames?”

“I love you with all my heart, but I can’t answer that right now.” He covers his face. Irey laughs, hugging him from behind and kissing his cheek. She murmurs sweet things to him in an effort to help his embarrassment. He’s still a little shy about their relationship, even a year after being out. Her gentle words seem to help a bit.

“Hey, baby.” Jai sits next to Lian. She shoves his shoulder.

“Who said you got to be good at that? How do you know that song?”

“You’re shocked speedsters know a song that’s literally about being born to run?” Jai raises an eyebrow at her. He sees the bit of hurt in her eyes and gives her a kind smile. “I love you, babe.”

“How sure are you?”

Jai gives her a long kiss, holding her chin and smiling against her lips. “Might be born to run, but I’m running home to you, baby.”

“Good.” That seems to help a little. The West twins watch the rest of the night, cheering and laughing with their friends. There’s no telling what their futures hold, but they’ll run towards it so long as there are days like today.

#Irey Park-West #Irey West #Jai West #Jai Park-West #flash family #Bart allen mentioned #Barry allen mentioned #Dawn and Don allen mentioned #Wally west mentioned #song fic

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nightcoremoon · 5 years

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some guy asked me for a hug. I turned and looked at him. he was a big black guy with a lazy eye and three huge duffel bags and a rainbow painted on his cheek and a light and gentle voice that sounded affected by some developmental disability related to mine. i figured hey why not and said sure, but he kissed my cheek; I was like ok whatever he's probably just affectionate. at least he didn't kiss my lips or grope me or any of that weird shit. just a harmless little cheek kiss.

me and two of my people had just gotten up to go get food, and I told him that. he asked me if he could walk with us because he just needed a friend. my little heart broke because I had felt the same way when I went to another pride alone a few years ago. I said sure he could walk with us but we were gonna get food.

he asked me if I could carry one of his bags for him. he was drenched in sweat and he had like 4 bags that were the size of me so I figured why not, I'll carry something for him. it was really heavy though, for someone like me with muscular dystrophy. still, I should be nice because being nice is good to do.

we got there and we walked past some girls (and guys) in a twerk-off or something, idk maybe they were just dancing to what the dj was playing (stuff from wiz khalifa to kid cudi to flo rida, a good selection). he said something like "yeah, get it girl!" I assumed that was an big city black culture type of deal and figured, okay that's probably a normal thing because it happened and nobody really seemed to vocally have a problem with it, so I shouldered on.

he asked if I could buy him something to eat. I said yes thinking sure I'll pay $5 for a corn dog or nachos or something. dude straight up asks for a $10 philly cheesesteak AND a drink, which costs $5. it's okay, that's fine, I have extra cash, and I'd feel better if he ate something in case he didn't get to eat very often. so I did it. I got him the cheesesteak and a drink. when I came back he was flirting with some other girls. I'd thought nothing of it, he's probably bi and just super friendly. I gave him the food and so he could eat I carried another bag. which weighed way more than my shoulders could handle but it wasn't too long of a walk.

I collapsed and he sat down and was like. hey y'all I need a place to stay tonight. I was like. okay. this random stranger I just met doesn't immediately seem threatening, BUT if I were to offer him an accommodation I would still put all of our valuables into the room he wouldn't be in and have all the guys be in the room he was in purely for safety in the worst case scenario. I would be safe and methodical and rational about it. I told him I would put it to a vote with my group. it was a UNIVERSAL FUCKING NO. obviously.

now, I was gonna tell him that the people who were in our group and not immediately present had all said no anyway just to gauge what his reaction was gonna be. now uh. he didn't react too well. he started throwing out a bunch of possibilities. I'll sleep on the floor, ask them again, convince them, tell them I'm homeless and the cops are after me, I was like. I'm not gonna lie to them but I will talk to them. and in the chat I was literally in the middle of typing "okay guys I told him that y'all said no and he didn't react well so nvm it's fine" when he said:

and I quote:

"if you don't let me stay with you I'll kill myself."

...

Fuck.

That.

so I delete what I was gonna say and I tell everyone he just threatened suicide so hell fuckin no, this situation is dangerous so I'm gonna tell him that the majority said no anyway and if he doesn't back the fuck off i'm gonna tell him that it's because they're racist. which would probably work, right? he wouldn't wanna stay with a bunch of racist white people even if some of them weren't racist. probably.

that was the plan. I tell him okay look I asked everyone again and they still said no. the 3 of us who are here at this table have no problem but the 4 of us who aren't said they're not ok with that and majority rules so sorry man I can't help you but there's plenty of people around here who might be able to help. but he asks again, why can't I lie to them? he'll just sleep on the floor, he just needs a place to stay for the night.

so one of the people at the table with us who saw the group chat and heard me say the spiel about how the THREE OF US WHO ARE HERE would be fine with him but the FOUR OF US WHO ARE NOT HERE would not be, straight up says "look, I'm not comfortable with sharing a hotel room with a random stranger."

I'm like WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SAY THAT NOW HES JUST GONNA GET DEFENSIVE AND LASH OUT ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? but well she's been to chicago a lot and knows the urban culture. even though I fucking lived in indianapolis on weekends for a decade and know the culture more than she does. anyway this fucks up the plan majorly. she then tries to kindergarten teach her way through empathy 101 and tell him suicide isn't the answer and it's not a tool to use to guilt trip people. I'm like. WELL HOW THE FUCK DO I SALVAGE THIS GARBAGE FIRE NOW WITH ALL THIS JET FUEL YOU JUST BLASTED ONTO IT???

but it's fine, he's probably smart enough to figure that we're all smart enough not to let a stranger stay with us. the other girl with us who doesn't have a smartphone who I was texting to keep her in the loop then says she's uncomfy and leaves even though earlier she had just gotten upset about our party splitting up and not being able to find each other. so I'm like. alright time to disengage.

the girls leave so I go in front of him and I'm like. look man, I wanna help but my people wouldn't be okay with it. I reach out my hand to shake it and I say I wish him the best and I hope that someone here lets him stay with them, but at the very least he won't be hungry. he just glares at me, rolls his eyes, and looks away.

the fucking bitch.

you disrespect my charity, my grace, my fucking charade to not just blow you off, and this is the thanks I get? I spend $15 so you get a free meal, and you're pissed at me because I won't cram you and your four bags into my cramped car to go to my cramped hotel rooms when I don't even know you? ASSHOLE.

so we leave. a few hours pass and my chicago friend (who I bear no ill will towards because she's only 19 and I value her as a friend) and I are sitting and waiting for our friends to watch Lizzo perform. some other guy sits by us. I introduce myself, his name's jake, he's a cool guy. he plays league, I play dota, we talk about video games and the topic migrates.

eventually mr manipulative asshole saunters over and sits next to him, trying to get in on the conversation. my chicago friend moves away prompting jake to ask me what happened so I write on my phone what the other guy did. jake then proceeds to turn his chair and turn out square into a triangle that's leaving out the dickweed. we talk for another while. the dickweed eventually sees two girls kidding and is like "ayy little mamma bring them tight asses over here". so my friend is like. that's not cool bro, that's sexual harassment. we're gearing up to leave and he tells her to shut the fuck up.

jesus was with me in that moment because I about beat the absolute dog shit out of him. instead, I just give him a disappointed look and say "don't cuss at my friends."

I so wanted to rip into him. "you ungrateful disrespectful asshole. i bought you dinner, I considered letting you stay with us until I realized you're just a disgusting freeloading pig, and emotionally manipulative to boot, and how dare you treat us like this when I fed you. and how dare you ask for the most expensive thing on the menu. and how dare you speak that way to my friends. I oughta beat you senseless and turn your other eye lazy. so I hope you do kill yourself tonight." that's what I wanted to say. the primal urge was there but I kept my cool. and we left. that was the end of that.

jake walked with all of us to our car. he is a cool guy. he added us on instagram. we're all safe.

so uh. yeah.

if I have one fault, just one, it would be that I'm kind to a fault. I will walk with you if you're lonely. I will feed you if you're hungry. I will house you if you're homeless. even if you're just a manipulative freeloader with no respect for women, because as an autistic person I've got a really bad ability to sense evil. I would have helped him. I would have let him stay with us. this dangerous asshole I would have let be in my hotel room. if I have one fault, just one. it's that I'm willing to put another person's potential comfort on a higher priority than my own financial well-being and personal security.

I may be stupid. but at least I care about others.

inb4 someone accuses me of making this up and I literally have to post screenshots of the group chat to prove that I'm not just making an imaginary strawman to further a white feminazi agenda or whatever. guys why would I make up a story that proved that I'm a big dumb moron?

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ievenranthisfar · 8 years

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A Race With No End: The Sisyphean Nightmare of Big’s Backyard Ultra

It’s 6:13 in the morning. The sun is about to break over the Tennessee countryside. I’ve already run 98.8 miles. And now, I find myself passing the two giant piles of frozen burritos that have been sitting—inexplicably—in the middle of the road all night. This is the twenty-fourth time I’ve passed them.

I may have to pass them another twenty-four times before this is all over. Or maybe not. I may have to run for another 100 miles. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Because, you see, I’m running in a race that has no finish line. And it’s starting to drive me insane.

This self-inflicted torture began three years earlier when, I stumbled across a race report detailing a crazy little race in the Middle of Nowhere, Tennessee. Its premise was so simple yet so evil: Last man standing wins.

Big’s Backyard Ultra has no set time or distance. Just a 4.1667-mile loop that each runner has to complete within an hour, over and over and over, until they can’t. Contestants continue running this macabre, Sisyphean loop until ultimately, there’s only one poor soul left. He or she wins. Everyone else DNFs. Like it never even happened.

My mind began to swirl. How far could I run if I had to run forever? Would my body or my mind give up first? What would it be like to be one of the last two people left, stuck in a stumbling, mutually self-destructive duel of wills? Also, just in general, WTF?

Like some kind of Phillip K. Dick fever dream, this insanity was cooked up by ultrarunning’s resident madman, Lazarus Lake. He’s the evil genius behind the even-more-infamous Barkley Marathons. And after being personally tortured by him for more than a day straight, I can say that he is a true artist. The Leonardo da Vinci of pain. The Rembrandt of mind games. The Lady Gaga of suffering. A master of sadomasochistic craft.

In 2014 the race went for 49 hours. The winning distance, 204.2 miles. Actually, “winning” isn’t really the correct term. Johan Steene and Jeremy Ebel started on Saturday morning. Saturday became Sunday. Sunday became Monday. The two dueled for so long that Johan was in danger of missing his flight back to Sweden. So, with no other option, he was forced to drop. In an ultimate sign of sportsmanship, Jeremy chose to drop as well. So both men ran 204.2 miles, which is an incredible feat. What’s even more incredible is that because of the Last Man Standing rule, they both actually lost. (Laz later told me this detail with a twinkle of pride in his eyes.)

Naturally, I became obsessed with the race.

Fast forward a few years to me, towing the starting line in Lazarus’s backyard. It’s a beautiful, still Saturday in October somewhere in B.F.E., Tennessee.

Three minutes before the start, Laz blows three whistles. “Oh man, you’re gonna love hearing that thang 20 hours from now,” he says with a grin. Two minutes before the start, he blows the whistle twice. “Almost time.” He’s like a seven-year-old boy about to torture a frog. One minute left, one whistle blow. “Get in here so I can draw the corral!” he hollers. Using a can of orange spray paint, he draws a box around us on his crunchy, dead lawn. At the start of every hour, we have to be standing inside this corral to begin the next loop. Unless, of course, we can’t.

The race clock ticks to 00:00:00, and Laz gives his cowbell a hearty shake. We’re off. Forty-seven human beings setting out to test the limits of our bodies and basic common sense.

Unlucky number 85

For months, I had worried about how best to run this thing. But within one loop, I quickly realize that the most important is a single world: consistency. In a typical 100-miler, it’s a guarantee that you’ll experience rough patches. Your legs will feel like lead. You’ll get overheated. Your stomach will rebel. But you can always sit down, hit pause and sort yourself out. Hey, you have 30 hours to finish this thing. But with Big’s, there’s no forgiveness. You get in a bad place, and you still have to be standing in the corral when Laz rings the cowbell at the next hour. Razor-thin margin of error.

After I finish each loop, I plop down in my REI chair and rustle through my bags. (Another fun challenge, no aid stations!) I refill my bottles, scarf down some food and attend to issues. But no matter where you’re sitting, you have a front-row seat for the main attraction: the race clock. It’s big and bright and just keeps tick, tick, ticking away. The seconds keep marching mercilessly towards the next hour and the next loop. Yay.

Running ultras has taught me that time is malleable; it can bend and warp. As I run from starting line to finish line, I often get the sensation I’m detached from time, floating along in my own jet stream. This race is the opposite. There’s no starting line and no finish line. No matter what you do, in one hour, you’ll end up right back where you started. It’s like a cruel mash-up of Saw and Groundhog Day. With possibly more grunting.

Pre-race meal planning: 20 pounds of gels, fried chicken, Mountain Dew and half a pie

Personal aid station or refugee camp? Really, both.

My first morning goes relatively well. I’m feeling good and running consistently. There’s a group of four of us in a front pack, choosing to run at a comfortably brisk pace. We run and chat and laugh for hours, and quickly become a weird little band of friends. It’s a solid distraction. But at the same time, somewhere in the back of my mind, I keep hearing the voice remind me, They’re the competition. A seed of Survivor-style paranoia is planted. I try to shake it for the time being.

Morning turns to afternoon. The temperature climbs into the mid-80s. People start to drop. We’re less than 50 miles in, and already more than half the field is gone. Images of WWII flash in my brain for some reason.

At the start/finish/coral, Laz and his cohorts—who are all dressed as prison inmates—crack the same joke, lap after lap. “Way to go! You’re back in first place!” or “Allllright! You were in second, but now you’re tied for first!” “There he is! First place runner right there!” The joke goes on for hours. It seems to get funnier to them each time they repeat it.

But here’s the thing. The more loops I run, the more I realize it’s not a joke. It’s the core truth of this entire race. Because everyone really is in first place until they drop. Whether you finish your loop in 44 minutes or 59 minutes, if you’re still running, you’re still winning. In fact, during the infamous 204.2-mile race, that was exactly the breakdown. Johan ran 44-minute loops consistently for 49 hours, while Jeremy ran right at the edge of cut-off each loop. There is no strategy. My brain starts to death-spiral as I realize that no matter how hard I work, I’ll always be in first place, like everyone else. Time is a flat circle.

Run, rest, repeat

In the evening, the race switches to an out-and-back stretch on 4.1667 miles of paved country road. Twelve hours and 50 miles into the race, there are only ten of us suckers left inside the corral. Surprisingly, this proves to be a nice mental break. While you run the trail, all you want to do is last until the road. Once you’re on the road, all you want to do is last until the trail. Lather, rinse, repeat.

And while road isn’t nearly as interesting as trail, it does provide a few new novelties. Tonight, the moon is so bright we don’t even need headlamps, so we glide through the Tennessee countryside like tattered, sweaty ghosts.

During our first loop, my newfound friends and I notice two lumpy piles of something sitting in the road near what looks like an abandoned house. We wonder aloud what the piles are, and I say, “They kind of look like a bunch of frozen burritos.” Everyone laughs. It’s preposterous. And I’m sure in the back of their heads, their Survivor voice whispers, Excellent. He’s starting to hallucinate. He’s a goner for sure. On the next loop, as we near the piles I tell them, “I wanna see what those are. I really think they’re frozen burritos.” “Ha, OK,” they laugh again. We drift towards the two piles, flick on our headlamps and HOLY SHIT THEY REALLY ARE A BUNCH OF FROZEN BURRITOS. Seriously. Two huge piles of half-melted, frozen burritos. There must be 100 or so. Just sitting in the road.

It’s by far the weirdest non-hallucination I’ve ever had during a race. (Weirdest actual hallucination: Obi Wan Kenobi in the middle of Hawaiian jungle.)

A few loops later, the burrito piles are flanked by two hound dogs sleeping in the road. Back at the start/finish, someone mentions the whole situation to Laz, and he conjectures that the owners must be out of town so they left some food out for their dogs. This makes no sense, but it also seems like the only reasonable explanation. Sort of a metaphor for Big’s as a whole.

The night marches on.

In the lull between one of the early evening laps, Laz taunts me, “You might wanna try to get some sleep. You’re gonna wish you had it when it’s this time tomorrow night.” Awesome, I think. So on top of everything else, now I have to try to sleep between each loop?? But, he did have a point. I throw a shirt over my head and try to not exist for a few minutes. It never works. Every time I’m about to doze off, I hear that “TWEEET, TWEEET, TWEEEEEET” of Laz’s three whistles.

The night creeps by, both slowly and quickly. Each loop becomes a sadistic episode of déjà vu. And each time, it becomes that much harder to get out of the chair and into the corral.

By the time dawn breaks over the Tennessee hills, there are just four of us left. Also, two piles of road burritos, mostly uneaten.

Twenty-four hour in and spirits are 👍

One hundred miles and 24 hours in, the Final Four line up for our first lap of the new day: me, Charlie Engle (famous for running across the Sahara, infamous for spending 21 months in prison for mortgage fraud), John Starpes (who’s put in a gritty performance, staying just ahead of the cut-offs every lap) and Babak Rastgoufard (a quiet dude in glasses with a big ole mop of hair who Laz and Co have enjoyed calling “Babagnoush” all day).

With a twinkle in his eye, Laz reminds us that we’re all in first place. Then he rings that damn cowbell.

How long can this go on?

Lap 25 goes off without a hitch. Lap 26, John falters. He doesn’t make the cut-off. One down. Three still in.

Just one mile into Lap 27, I feel a pain shoot through my left heel. It’s my Achilles tendon. How cosmically ironic, I mumble. My Achilles heel. The sudden reappearance of my chronic injury means my race is over.

However, Charlie is staring to look pretty worked. Against better judgment, I decide I’ll only go back out for another loops if Charlie comes in with two minutes to spare. Pride will be the death of me.

Back at home base, Laz blows his whistle three times. No sign of Charlie. I start to get excited. He blows his whistle twice. No sign of Charlie. Thank God. And then, “There he is!” Charlie bursts out of the woods. Ugh.

I grab my bottle and trudge over to the starting corral. A minute later, the three of us set off again. This is my last loop, I promise myself.

It’s been 112 miles. As I hobble in, I tell my mom (who has been horrified for two days straight) that that is my last loop… “unless Charlie comes in with, like, 30 seconds left.” I cringe as I hear the words coming out of my mouth.

We sit there waiting. Three whistles and no Charlie. Two whistles, no Charlie. One whistle, no Charlie. Then, just like an underdog movie scene, Charlie comes barreling out of the woods. I close my eyes. “Dammit, Charlie.” I think that’s the first time I’ve cussed in front of my mom.

Charlie crosses the line with 35 seconds left. Resigned to my fate, I shuffle into the starting corral. Now on the ground, Charlie throws up his hands. “No más. I’m done.” “Noooo!” the crowd cries. The cowbell rings. Charlie doesn’t move. It’s just me and Babak now.

As soon as we get out of earshot of the crowd, I turn to him and say, “Hey man, this is gonna be my last loop.” “What?” he’s confused. “Yeah, my leg is hurt really badly. I can’t run on it anymore. You ran a hell of a race. Congrats, man.” “Ah man, I’m sorry…” he commiserates for a second. And then, he looks me in the eyes, “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” “Ha, no. I promise.” “’Cause that’d be kinda messed up,” he double-checks. “I promise, I’m not fucking with you.” I told you, this race messes with your head.

Even though I’m about to lose, it feels like a victory lap. I’m going to enjoy it. I say goodbye to all the little landmarks I’ve spent the last day with—the crumbly rock, Kat’s Cave, the edge of the field, the top of the hill. Forty-seven minutes later, we burst out of the woods and into the sun. The crowd cheers.

I stride across the line one last time. 116 miles in 27:48. I immediately bend down and rip the timing tracker off my ankle. “I’m tapping out,” I announce. “NOOOOO,” the crowd erupts in unison. “YOU CAN’T.” “I have to.” I explain my injury. But they’re having none of it. They came to see a bloodbath.

I sit on the ground in front of Laz. He stares down at me with the tenderness of some sort of hillbilly Santa Claus. “You sure you wanna drop? You still got plenty of time.” He speaks with a mixture of genuine care for me and morbid interest in seeing this spectacle dragged out as long as possible. “Thanks but I’m really done.” “Alright then.”

A few minutes later, Babak is standing alone in the starting coral. We all start chanting his name “Babak! Babak! Babak!” as he takes off on the very last loop of the race, solo. I’m Second-to-Last Man Standing.

Striding out once more

Tapping out

Big’s Backyard Ultra asks everything of you as a runner and as a human being. It’s as fascinating and as terrible a race as will ever be dreamed up. Its genius lies in its simplicity. And the more time I spent around Lazarus—trust me, I had about 15 minutes every hour for 28 hours straight—the more I became convinced that he’s some kind of savant.

The world is a better place because of madmen like Lazarus Lake. And I’m a better person for living through his terrible genius firsthand. Because now I’ve run a race with no end.

And also someone gave me a Long Day Lager afterwards

Epilogue

Unbeknownst to me, throughout the race, Lazarus composed strange, little updates that he blasted out every loop. Each reads like the beautiful poetry of a sadistic Thoreau.

if we did this to dogs, they would throw us in jail.

hour 8 just began. 25 runners are praying they can survive 5 more hours and reach the road loops...

here is what they keep saying, as they drop and drop and drop;

if only this was just a 100 miler, and i could take a break. just 5 minutes. that is all i need.

24 runners are alive, out on the trail and the whistles start again in 54 minutes...

laz

pray for the 18

we had our clean lap. 18 finished hour 11 18 started hour 12...

this is the critical hour. the sun is setting, and it will be dark before they get back.

nobody has more than a minute or two a lap to spare. they cannot slow down. dark or not.

if they finish this hour, there are 12 hours of gravy, before we return to the trail.

pray for the 18. they need it.

laz

nightmare under the hunters moon

tim dines and gary kaspar. refused to continue.

may god have mercy on your soul.

14 tortured souls started hour 15.

it is one thing to run a 100, and start once. it is another to run a 100, and have to start 24 times...

and you might not even be halfway through.

laz

the final chapter it was the invisible injury that won out. andy's achilles had been gradually deteriorating for many hours. after the two youngsters hammered each other during hour 28, babak pulling away, andy bowed out after the finish (to the dismay of throngs of andy pearson fans) babak is out on the deciding loop....for the first time, he is alone. in somewhere around a half hour, we will know if there is a finisher this year. we already know who it has to be. thanks for listening.

laz

#ultrarunning #race #racereport #ultramarathon

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morningmindsetpodcast-blog · 6 years

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MM194 - Active Mind and Strong Body

We consider the words of General George Patton. What did he have to say about having an active mind and a strong body?

If you like the show, please check out our Official Morning Mindset Merchandise!

Episode Transcription

[INTRO]

♫ Trenches by Pop Evil ♫

*Alex*

Welcome to Morning Mindset. A daily dose of practical wit and wisdom with a professional educator & trainer, Amazon best selling author, United States Marine, Television, and Radio host, Paul G. Markel. Each episode will focus on positive and productive ways to strengthen your mindset and help you improve your relationships, career goals, and overall well-being. Please welcome your host; Paul G. Markel.

*Professor Paul*

Hello, welcome back to Morning Mindset, and I've got a topic for you that ties in with my other show. The other show that I happen to do. I was researching And discussing General George Patton's principles for life and Leadership and I was referencing it on the other show and I came across something that I thought would work very well here on the morning. Mindset show I had to be careful when I use the same studio and the same microphones in the same everything to do both shows, and yes every once in a while I slip up and I thank you for being a member of the other audience.

I know that you guys are members of the Morning Mindset audience. Yes indeed. What did Patton have to say about an active mind and an active body or a strong body and this chapter? The title of the chapter is an active mind cannot exist in an inactive body, and I've got some quotes from General George Patton here. The first quote is Wars are won by men with strong Wills to win and with strong bodies and then he continued.

He said "A strong will to win is more important than a strong body" men have won battles when totally exhausted and near death from injuries. However, that will to win did not get into the brain without having a strong body. You have to keep the body active to keep all the juices running into the right places. General Patton never stopped stressing physical fitness and if you know anything about Patton, you'll know that even into his 50s, he would go out every morning and run and he made sure that his troops knew that he was running because he set the example.

He led by example. Nobody made him do it. He didn't have to do it. No one was going to go to his tent and say Hey general you didn't go out and run a mile this morning. What's up now? He did it because he knew that he needed. Into we got another quote here from actually Napoleon Bonaparte and it said Napoleon said it takes The Sword and the spirit to win in war. The spirit is most important in our world today.

We seem to believe that we are more enlightened and intelligent than our forefathers or our ancestors were we like to believe we like to deceive ourselves into believing that because we have smartphones and access to the internet and what have you that we've got it all figured out in those old guys. Didn't know what they were talking about. For instance. We see a diminishing role or diminishing stress on the importance of the or of the importance of physical fitness. I witnessed this for a long time.

Now several years numerous years, probably 10 or 12 or more where we're diminishing the importance of physical education with our children and one of the things that we should be doing is increasing or. Proving the physical education of our children because the mind and the body work in consort. Your mind cannot be strong. It cannot be well trained all well fueled by oxygenated blood if your body does not support it.

Basically your body is the support system for your mind, and when it comes to being positive and productive leading productive and positive lives, we cannot ignore that fact and even Napoleon Bonaparte understood it General George Patton understood it, and here we are in our modern era believing that because we have access to the internet and we have smartphones and we have apps and we have all these things that we can somehow shortcut the system.

That we can have strong intelligent well-functioning brains without feeding them the proper nutrition and without exercising our body, and it just doesn't work that way. It really doesn't I've told the story on my other show, but I'll tell you guys one of the things that I had in my old Studio. We used to have a studio and Training Center. We had a fitness center training center, and then we had our recording studios in the other half of the building.

So half of the building was for physical training and the other half was for making the radio and the TV and in the radio Studio television Studio side of the building. There was a great big whiteboard, a dry erase board as you guys know and quite often. I would be in the gym part and I would be either on a treadmill or I would be punching the bag. We had a lot of heavy bags and so forth. I'd be doing that, and I would have a thought, and I would have an idea for the rather the TV show or the radio show or a new book or an article or whatever.

I would have an idea and I would run all sweaty from the gym side into the other side and I would grab a dry erase marker and I would put notes on the on the board. I tried to take a regular notebook with me into the gym and I found that I would constantly sweat all over it, and I know you guys like you need one of those, right? In the rain tablets man, one of the ones that you can sweat on and it won't mess them up. Yeah, that's probably true. I probably should have had a right in the rain notebook in the gym with me so that I could rain sweat down on it wouldn't ruin the pages.

But I realized, you know, that was one of them many times in my life that it was a firm to me that I realized that when I physically exercise when I worked when I sent. You know heavy oxygenated blood flowing through my body up to my brain when my brain was flush with that oxygenated blood that I was able to think clearly and I was able to come up with new and different ideas. I would hope that you have experienced that for yourself if you have not, and I will say this if you are in a position right now in your career or your job or whatever it is you do the where you are stumped.

You've been looking for a solution. You've been looking for an answer. You've been looking for a different way to attack a problem or what have you, and you don't feel like you're getting the answers that you need. Get your butt up out of the chair get away from your desk and go. Go stimulate some blood flow go do something physical, to get the oxygenated blood flowing and pump into your brain, and help your brain and your mind to be active.

You can't just sit in a chair constantly staring at a computer screen. You got to get up you gotta move around you got to do something physical. Your strong body supports an active mind they work together in concert. Alright in concert. How's that sound so I'm good you guys are leading gentlemen. I am your host Paul Markel. I thank you for being part of the Morning Mindset audience, and I remind you that as Christmas fast approaches.

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littlethoughtsandfeelings · 7 years

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The Bachelor Australia 2017 Recap – Episode 4

“Hey! Your reviews are too boring!” They say. “Get some screencaps like the other reviews!” They say.

Well, I can’t get copyright free screencaps at this stage, but do you know what I can get you? Stick-figure drawings.

That’s right – I will now be adding my (very bad) stick-figure drawings to the reviews. And you’ll damn well enjoy them.

We open with Matty overlooking a pond, which is apparently at the Sydney Polo Club. It’s raining, and he’s a little too proud of himself for making a pun about dampening the spirits of the day.

Matty says, “Cobie loves animals, and I love horses, so I thought it would be good to join our passions together.” A horse is an animal, though. So it’s not really a joining of two passions, but more like the same passion?

Wait, we’re going straight to the date? No Osher delivering a card or anything? Righto then.

Matty rides in on a horse… with a helmet. I’m all for being safety-conscious, but it definitely takes away a bit of the fairy-tale element.

He hops down, he greets Cobie, and then… Harry the horse does a massive wee. Wow, horses do really big wees, don’t they?

Back at the mansion, the girls discuss how Cobie is going on the date. They’re all super jelly. The evil squad decide that Matty’s tactic is to “save the best for last”, Villain Number Two Jennifer makes a comment that she’s the greatest, someone compares Matty to a schnitty, which I’m assuming is a chicken schnitzel… a lot is happening.

Right, back to the date. Cobie has never ridden before, so Matty has to instruct her. He says, “I’m well aware that she’s on the back of a horse for the first time”, proving his ability to state the obvious.

Cobie uses the word “beautifulest”, so we’ll deduct points for that, however she does acknowledge that it’s not a word, so I guess the points go back on?

They horse ride for a bit, and then get to wash the horses. Peppy, Cobie’s horse, is loving the bath.

But then things escalate and soon Matty and Cobie are hosing each other down, she’s wearing a white singlet, and he’s already calling her “Cobes”… dude, calm down.

Matty’s talking head says, “I know that Cobie and I get along the best when we’re being silly and having a laugh.” Dude. You’ve met her once. How do you even know how you get along at all?

Back at the mansion, Villain Number Two Jennifer thinks that Cobie will fall in the friend-zone because “she’s too cutesy”. Her talking head says that, “Matty’s a man and he wants a woman… I know I give off sex appeal, and for me it’s quite natural.” So, let me get this straight, he doesn’t want an adult acting like a bitchy teenage girl, then?

Still on their date, Matty and Cobie find a SEXYTIME couch in a room “that Matty’s planned out”. Yes. It was definitely all his idea. Wait, this is the date? Horse riding for five minutes and then washing a horse? So we’re saving the big-budget dates until the fifth episode, right? Then it will start to get more interesting, right?

They discuss their dating history, and Cobie opens her heart. She says that she wants to date her best friend, but wants to have a connection too. Matty agrees, saying he wants to be friends first and then have it progress from there. Ha! Take that friend-zone naysayers!

Oh God. She wrote him a poem. It’s the first poem she’s ever written. She explains that because it’s her first time dating in a while, she’s finding it difficult to express herself. So she should definitely try a medium she has no experience in. (Side note: Remember last year someone wrote a poem? Or was it Sam Frost’s season where there was a rap? Let’s hope it’s not as cringey as that.)

It’s a bit cringey, and a bit sweet, and they’re playing romantic music so I think she’s in the clear.

Matty pulls out the rose. She says she really wants to kiss him. I’m cringing so hard. She wants him to go halfway. He’s being all romantic. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THEY’RE MUSHING! IT’S ROMANTIC! IT’S GOING A LONG TIME! Hghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghgnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

I can’t cope. I’m not coping. I have lost the ability to cope.

We cut to the next day, and the girls interrogate Cobie. Nothing much is said, but now it’s time for the HYUNDAI SPONSORSHIP. There are literally twenty shots of the car from all different angles. I feel like the cameraman was like, “Yeah, work it, work it.”

Anyway the point of this sponsorship is that Matty is driving to the mansion to surprise them all.

They go to another part of the mansion, which is miraculously sunny, as opposed to the first part of the mansion, where it was pouring with rain.

Osher is holding a giant dice (or die, I guess), and that is not a euphemism. Although it might be, I have no idea.

Osher reveals they’re playing The Bachelor board game and I AM SO ON BOARD. For those who don’t know, there are few things I love more than board games. If you could purchase this game, I would literally be signing over my life savings.

So, the Monopoly knock-off game works like this, they roll a dice, and move a set number of squares. If they land on a square with Matty’s face, he asks you a question, if they land on a square with a rose, Osher asks both of them a question. There’s also a golden cage, for reasons that I’m hoping doesn’t involve BDSM.

Alix goes first, and she and Matty choose different answers for the multiple choice. Thrilling.

Simone is up next, and she lands on “choose a girl to cream pie in the face”. She picks Liz, who she says “never smiles”. It appears that Leah (Villain Number One) and Jennifer (Villain Number Two) also don’t like Liz. What the heck has Liz done? And who is she?

Michelle is next and she lands on a “go to jail” square, which involves the golden cage. But she’s allowed to take her glass of wine, so it’s not that bad really.

Some other girls go and I have no idea who they are. Basically, we learn some facts about Matty: his bike is named Cindy (no you did not read that wrong), his worst trait is that he’s late, and he has no pets.

Matty says that Florence is the biggest surprise, and I agree – the biggest surprise to us is that she’s there.

Cobie lands on “move ahead or free kiss” with Matty. Her talking heads says that she wanted to kiss him, but decided to move forward. Jennifer says that if it was her, she’d totally do it, because she understands and that “everyone’s here for the right reasons”. Yes, Jennifer, I can definitely envisage you being very calm and accepting of it if Cobie chose to kiss Matty in front of you. It seems like your tolerance of the other girls is very selective.

The rest of the game is heavily edited so I don’t really know what’s going on. Basically some ladies get swapped for others, there’s more cream pies to the face, and Michelle gets out of jail. Jennifer is one of the women with a pie to the face, and makes sure to get Matty’s attention before rubbing the cream all over her cleavage. I’m willing to give her characterisation to the producers of the show, and she is doing very well being so unlikeable.

Michelle wins the game, and won… a hug? No extra time? Nothing? What was the point of this stupid game then?!

Afterwards, Cobie says she’s disappointed for not taking the kiss, because as she says, it could have just been a kiss on the cheek. She flags that she wants to raise it with Matty tonight, which seems perfectly reasonable to me, but I guess I haven’t been plied with alcohol and locked in a mansion with 17 other girls who want to date the guy I’m into.

Cocktail Party Time!

Cobie says that she came into this experience not wanting to have any regrets, and she regrets not kissing him, so she wants to clear it up. See, perfectly reasonable.

Florence (who? Ah, the Dutch one) has something to show Matty. He’s getting a lesson in Dutch (side note: what’s that thing to do with fluffs and blankets? Isn’t that something about Dutch?). She puts Matty in a red, striped tie and circular glasses. She dresses up in a half-open white shirt over her black corset-dress, also dons some glasses, and holds a cane/pointer thing, which just gives the overall feel of some light BDSM. Is this the theme for this episode or something?

She teaches him how to say, “You have beautiful eyes” in Dutch. She then teaches him to say, “Will you accept this rose?”, and the whole thing is lightly flirtatious and a bit weird and a teensy bit awkward, like the time we played ‘Let’s Get to Know Matty J!’.

Next girl to chat with Matty is Simone, and it seems like she spends three minutes talking about how nervous she is.

So then the dramahhh: Cobie sees them talking, and approaches. She asks (very politely, I might add) if she can borrow Matty once she’s finished talking with Simone. I’m not really sure why this is an issue, because she gave him an option, but I guess the weirdness was the fact that she just stood off to the side, staring at them.

Simone leaves Matty, and goes to chat to… the Evil Squad? Wait, I thought she was one of the good ones. Simone, wasn’t it like two episodes ago that you hated these girls? And now you’re confiding in them? She says, “[Cobie]’s had two group dates and a single date”, and she isn’t impressed with the interruption.

Villain Number Two Jennifer says that Cobie “plays sweet, she plays cute, but she’s a hustler, she’s a bitch.” She also uses the word “hustler” again in a talking head. Jennifer, I’m not sure that word means what you think it means. Isn’t a hustler a gambler? Someone who, in fact, hustles? Looking this up, there is an alternative meaning, which is a prostitute, but I’m not sure she was going for something that aggressive. I can only assume she was going for “hussy”, which Google says, is a “brazen or immoral woman”. And that’s been your vocabulary lesson for today, class. Just, use words correctly, Jennifer.

Anyway, in the actual chat with Matty, Cobie explains why she didn’t choose to kiss him. Matty’s totally cool with it, saying it totally wasn’t an issue, unlike last season when Georgia Love had the issue of Courtney not giving her enough attention in group situations. You can’t win with this show.

Now for the second dramahhh: Leah walks in on their chat and asks if she can take Cobie back because she upset a lot of people. Cobie says she just needs two more minutes, and Leah says again, that she upset a lot of people. It’s very awkward and Matty seems annoyed.

Then, histrionic Leah takes her information back to the Evil Squad, saying that Cobie said she doesn’t care that she hurt other people’s feelings (for the record, she did say “I don’t care”, but to me it came across as more of a “ok, cool, leave me alone” than a “I hate everybody!” kind of thing).

Some of the girls try to defend Cobie, including Laura. You know what, Laura? You’re really growing on me. Anyway she says that Cobie wouldn’t have meant it in a malicious way, which is the way Leah is relaying it, and she’s so done with this shit.

Oh man, now she has to bloody deal with Jennifer. FFS this is so bloody frustrating. Laura says that she loves Cobie, and Jennifer says, “WE ALL LOVE COBIE”, and I let out an actual witches’ cackle. Lisa says she’s really happy Laura stood up for Cobie, and I’m on any team with Lisa and Laura on it. (Readers, I know what you’re thinking. Last episode I was on Simone’s side, and now she’s turned out to be one of the bad ones. Look, I guess I’m just on the side against evil, ok? I’m bloody Harry Potter.)

Cobie and Matty walk out into the group of girls, and Jennifer basically pounces on her, saying, “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Cobie.”

It’s a bit awkward, but that’s mostly thanks to the editing and sound effects. We don’t get to see any more of the fallout, because this is The Bachelor, and if there’s one thing this show doesn’t know how to do, it’s transitions.

Rose Ceremony time!

Osher introduces Matty, saying the ladies look a bit better than during the “Crème de la crème of board games”. They have literally said that phrase three times this episode, and for once, I’m not exaggerating.

Matty picks a few girls, and he asks Florence to accept her rose in the Dutch he learnt, which is pretty sweet.

For a second, I’m thinking that maybe he’ll get rid of one of the villains tonight, and squash the issues in the house. It would be fitting with his ‘I’m not taking any shit this season’ attitude he’s displayed so far. Like he gets a say in it.

He clearly doesn’t, and Jennifer and Leah both get roses. Jennifer sashays up to him, and I feel like she really treats him like a prize to be won, which in fairness, he kind of is in this context, but you don’t have to treat him like that.

This is the one thing I really dislike about this show. It’s not like Matty is going to pick either of these mean girls in the end. They’re clearly there to further their radio career, or their red carpet reporting career *cough Laurina cough*. They’re easy fodder to just add some manufactured dramahhh to the show, and look, it works: the show is selling a product, and we’re all buying it. But how cool would it be to just see a bunch of nice people and them all behaving respectfully of each other, and Matty just picks who he likes best? Huh? WHAT’S WRONG WITH THAT UTOPIA?!

The other thing is that it is definitely not his choice to keep all of these girls. There’s clearly a stipulation in his contract that the producers would get a say in some (if not all) of the girls chosen. Which means we’re basically waiting ten weeks for him to get rid of the ones he knew on the first night that he didn’t like.

Anyway, tangent over – It’s down to Elise (apparently a montage girl) and Belinda (apparently the Love Coach who made Matty stare into her eyes). Elise gets the rose.

Later, Belinda. Good luck with your love coaching.

Next Episode: A high building, and some more dramahhh with Cobie. And a face-off date?! Not like the movie, I’m assuming, although that could be cool. (Side note: Remember when Sam the model was on that kind of date and he had to go home? Hahahaha it was great.) And Sian gets grumpy at the cocktail party. Ummm… who is she again?

#tv #tvreview #recaps #thebachelorau #thebachelor #tvrecap

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