#justice for natalie

[yannaryartside]

WE NEED A NAT EPISODE IN SEASON 3

Like, in the name of everything holy, we need a Nat episode. I do not want to imply that other characters don't deserve episodes to explore their traumas/processes. I believe that the show promises to explore the healing process, the good, the bad, the happy, the ugly, the good intentions, the personalities, the wounds, and the love. Nat has one of the most compelling wounds in the show, not exploring it to the point of catharsis/healing would make the show feel incomplete for me.

They have shown her trauma in chunks, especially in fishes; all of it feels like set up for a cathartic event of some kind. I am hoping for it. Either it is going to be an essential subplot for next season, like a ticking clock, or give her an entire episode; I think it is due.

If I were a betting person, I would say it would happen when Nat gives birth or something related to her embracing motherhood, maybe finally realizing how badly her mom treated her. Have you heard of abusive parents telling their kids (victims) that "they will understand when they have kids of their own"? Trying to excuse their behavior on the struggle of being a parent. Only so that abused kids become parents and understand any less. Because they cannot imagine doing to their kids what was done to them. If they hadn't realized they were abused, that definitely would have started the process. I am also not saying that Nat doesn't know she was abused.

However, she is still holding on to establishing a relationship with her mom without Donna taking responsibility for how she treated her. It gives me the impression that she believes she needs to compensate for something, to prove that she was worthy of her mother's love all alone. If she can "fix" her mother, making her happy, she will finally earn her love.

Nat has been diminishing her own wounds, her feelings, and her hurt, for too long. I read a post explaining the symbolism of water exploding around Nat in season 2 (the toilet) about Nat representing feelings that are destined to explode at some point. I am so ready for it, my girl needs to start healing, recognizing the wound, letting the anger and sadness surface, and addressing them.

[transpidergwen]

When will I learn to stop getting invested in expendable side characters? Never! The more important question is when will narratives stop introducing girlbosses only to kill them off bc they're too powerful and threaten the fragility of the narrative!

They!

Deserved!

Better!

[frisiunia]

Natalie better!!!

So I think it's quite obvious that I prefer Sofia. I think that a few people who follow Undermourning also prefer Sofia. After all there are only two fanarts of my AU (excluding one pixel art... and my acquaintance's fanarts...). Both of them are Sofia fanarts. As I said I also prefer Sofia and I think it's quite visible. I try to give ya as much Natalie content as much Sofia content I give ya. But I still think I favorise Sofia. I don't want Sofia has more spotlight than Natalie. I want them to have just as much spotlight. That is why now I'm returning some justice for Natalie!... Yeah... justice TwT

7 reasons why Natalie is better than Sofia

1. Language

I'm not sure if it's shown in stories very well. But in the assumption she should have rich vocabulary and use more official language. I think I do the second part very well, but it's hard to show character with rich vocabulary when mine isn't that rich. In my native language it is but not in English. However, Natalie meant to be the more eloquent one because she's reading a lot of books. It's big plus for me, at least. I'm a writer after all (though my writing is better in my native language TwT).

2. Courage

Natalie is braver than Sofia. Yes, Sofia has fewer fears than Natalie. However, when she does fear something, she can't find a courage to fight with that fear. On the other hand Natalie is able to do that. Here's an example:

When Natalie and Sofia first arrived at Toriel's house, they both didn't want to go any near the fire place. It's because they parents burnt as I once said. However, Toriel told them it's magical fire, and she made it warm instead of hot, so it can't hurt them. Despite that, Sofia still didn't wanted to be near it. In nowadays she can be close to it, but she never put hand into it. However, Natalie did. Not right away but when Sofia and Natalie came back after fight with Omega Flowey, Natalie found a courage to do it.

3. Perseverance

Sofia has yellow soul, Natalie has purple soul. That's a basic fact about them. I actually need to fix No Mercy Route in my AU... I actually want to make a post that fixes a lot of things in my AU, however what I will not change are battles with twins. They both are humans, so they aren't affected by Frisk's LV. And their battles are quite unique. And it has something to do with this point.

Twins have only 20 HP because they never killed anyone. Sofia can't dodge, but she can block which only reduces damage if she's using only her hands (or something that isn't very good at being shield) to do it. At No Mercy she is able to reduce Frisk's damage to 1. Which lets her survive 20 turns. While Natalie is able to dodge. She doesn't dodge all the time and because she can't block attacks, she dies after two-three attacks. Or at least she should. She's able to do something similar to what Undyne is doing when we're killing her at Neutral Route. She's able to survive a few turns more. Why am I telling this? Because it's the best example of her perseverance.

...Though she would never be able to fully resist death like Undyne does at Genocide Route :P

4. Politeness

Natalie is more polite than Sofia. I'm not saying that Sofia disrespects others. What I am saying is that Natalie tend to be more polite and delicate. Sofia usually says everything directly. Truth and her opinions. Even if it's hurtful. I personally think that this way of communicating is the best. However, some people are more sensitive. That is why Natalie's politeness makes her better. I do not support lying as a way to make someone feel better. However, trying to say bad things in delicate way is a good thing about Natalie.

5. Culture

Natalie appreciates beautiful things much more than Sofia. Sofia is only into fairytales and folklore. While Natalie reads books. Mostly fantasy but she also reads every other type. Description just musts be interesting for her. She also appreciates other kinds of arts. Maybe not as much as writing, but she loves authors creativity and likes to think what author had in mind making their work of art. She also loves symbolism and her favourite era in art is romanticism. She likes ballet too. And talking about ballet...

6. Ballet

In ballet as in everything else, a person needs time and practice to become good at. It can be said about EVERYTHING. Drawing, writing, other dances, sports etc. So what makes me say that Natalie is better because she learns this dance? After all, Sofia also needs to work hard to become good in archery. However... ballet is harder. It just had to be said. Of course, I do not disregard archery. You need to aim, judge distance properly, hold bow and stand properly. I heard that breathing is also important. However, I still think ballet is harder. It's a mix of sport and art. Knowing poses, flexibility, sense of rhythm. Actually every skill that is needed to dance but ballet dancers should be much more flexible. The fact that it's mix of two things says that you need twice more skills. And Natalie actually becomes good at it with time. Despite how hard it is, she's able to learn it with perseverance!

7. Emotions

I'm sure that Sofia's coldness makes her more attractive as a character. However, it also makes her have less empathy. Yes, she does care about others' lives. She does care about others' feelings. She wants to help others. She has sympathy for others. But Natalie has empathy for others. Yes, there is a difference between sympathy and empathy. When you're sympathetic with someone, you feel bad for their misfortune and want to help. However, when you're empathetic with someone, you understand that person which makes comforting them easier to you. Which means that yes, both twins care for others and want to help them. However, Natalie is the better one in emotions. She is more emotional and impulsive, I won't deny it. However, she also has more empathy.

So after writing that... I still prefer Sofia :P But I hope I proved that Natalie is also cool. Bye! :>

[daily-joker]

Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths – Part Three (2024)

[tanoroe]

spare some ghostface duo lottienat pleek 🤲

here you go pookie congrats on being my first ever ask 😽😽 Jackie would deffo be Casey Becker but the real question is who would be Sydney Prescot and the rest of the gang

also since Lottie’s like 4 inches taller Nat’s gotta be wearing something like this so the heights match in their ghost face costumes and that thought makes me giggle so enjoy

[xkzuka]

just finished yellowjackets and wow misty is the worst

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

not to be overly critical of an incredibly tiny fandom but i think it says a lot about fandom practices in general when the main supporting character in monk, arguably a dual protagonist, has always been a woman, yet there is rarely fandom content about sharona or natalie (two undeniably well-developed and interesting characters) and instead people fixate on a male character who is in fact the third most present character on the show (arguably the fifth most present when you consider percentages rather than plain numbers) and also apply a highly amatonormative lens to his relationship with adrian. i won't even comment on how trudy gets sidelined and reduced despite being thee specter that haunts the text. fandom misogyny truly cuts deep

[netflixnormalthings]

robin and nancy can't die they need to experience the 90's. just like in general

[blackmagictrait]

this isn't gonna win me any friends but I won't pay a dime to see movies made by/starring people who signed the petition to free convicted child rapist roman polanski, and that includes guillermo del toro and wes anderson. you can love their movies all you want but paying to see them puts money in the pocket of people who publicly support rapists going free. 🤷🏾‍♀️

[kitzatara]

Zatanna Knight Terrors Variant!

Art by Natalie Sanders

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #30)

Chapter #30. They're becoming a real team!

Previous: Chapter #29

Next: Chapter #31

Word Count: 5,408 Read Time: Approx. 42 mins

CW: adult language

Tag list: @gatlily @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien , @thegodmother007 , @honey-olive , @bittykimmy13 , @aceouttatime , @imvenusasaboy , @liminaldaze , @windshield-patent , @joxter-coded , @rosella35 , @narrans , @rubeau-art , @littlescaryinternetguy , @jae-from-discord , @kitn-underfoot , @secretly-small @writing-forever , @iinogongju , @tales-of-aestus-deactivated2023 , @itsgothgirlthyme , @make-me-giant , @reborrowing , @whatthisfemsheplikes , @soapysoap69 , @tinystrawberryshifter

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #30: Uncharted Waters

[Natalie’s POV]

Wonder Twin Powers? Really Nat? That’s the best you could come up with? 

I chastised myself while I rolled my shoulders back trying to mentally reset. Calm down, focus on the screen. I knew I had more than enough work to keep me occupied, but I couldn’t shake the electric feeling of having gotten to hold him, not once, but twice in such a short amount of time. It’s like I could still feel his tiny heart thundering against the ball of my thumb as I propped him up and stroked his chest. His face had turned a bright, beautiful pink, his crystal blue eyes, wide and wary. Poor Alexander. He wasn’t exactly the touchy feely type was he? The part that drove me up a wall is that I knew he liked it. There was too much evidence at this point for any doubt. From that first day when he’d curled around my thumb in his sleep, to the adoration he’d shown under the influence of medication, to how flustered he’d been just now. Yet, he couldn’t get out of his own way. What was that about? A fear of being betrayed? A lack of trust? Or did he just not want to want anything from anyone else? Maybe it was a combination of all three or something else I hadn’t discovered yet. 

But he had apologized in his own stiff and far too serious way. He’d literally fallen all over himself in the effort. I thought of the pretty paper flower he’d planted in my hair. My face grew hot. He may have driven me crazy half the time with his antics and weird complexes, but everytime he pushed me to my limit, he’d go and show this thoughtful, sweet side of himself that lay buried under layers of witty quips, sharp judgements and an easily bruised ego. 

I realized, all the sudden, I hadn’t absorbed a single word of the last page and a half I’d scrolled through. God, I’m hopeless. 

This little spot right by my elbow seemed alive with warmth and energy. Unable to help from peering down and sneaking a glance every now and again, I still couldn’t believe my luck: So far, at least, he’d chosen to stay exactly where I’d placed him, his little chair so close to my sleeve, he could lean over and tap me if he wanted. I became suddenly hyper-aware of all my movements, realizing even a slight shift of my arm could easily knock him over, if I wasn’t careful. Hello, down there, Alexander. 

As expected, he was a much better student than me. Absorbed in his work, he leaned into the phone display, scrolling through some document as he read and took fastidious notes. Was it stupid that I couldn’t help but smile when he ran his tiny finger along his lower lip in that habit of his which always showed he was lost in thought? Yes, absolutely. But it didn’t matter. I grinned like an idiot all the same. I guessed what really thrilled me was the chance to get to know him better. I was proud to be picking up on his little ticks and quirks and learning more about what made the Little Nightmare uniquely him. 

 I found myself trying to peer over the top of his head at his notebook below. What did his handwriting look like? Somehow I had a feeling it was far more neat and impressive than my terrible scrawl. Why was I so enamored with someone simply taking notes? Why would I be happy to sit and watch him do just that for hours? I felt my heart swell. How lucky was I to have him in my life!

It was hard to imagine what things were like before him. Certainly I got less of a daily earful, but I also had no one to share my time, my space, and my meals with, at least not regularly. I hadn’t gone home to see family in months. The coursework was killing me. The day I’d found this tiny blue-eyed thief clinging to the shelf of my pantry, I’d barely slept in a week. My modest, cramped apartment had gotten awfully quiet. Well, besides the occasional next-door cat drama. 

I’d known it for a while, but never was able to diagnose the exact malady… that is, until now. I’d been lonely. 

I felt the gravity of that sink into my stomach and slither along my spine. It unsettled me. 

That word made it sound like I was some fucking sad sack recluse who never got out. One wary glance around my desk with its utter mess of papers, pens, pencils, a dirty used mug here, and a few scattered half empty water bottles there, and it was clear there was room for improvement, as much as I hated to admit it. 

Banishing the trash heap from my foremost thoughts, I turned my gaze back to the little tuft of disheveled hair, and the tiny hand that reached out to tap the on-screen keys that were never designed with him in mind. I admired the speed with which his little fingers slid to type out the letters. He had to get both arms involved, just to span the length of the device, which was turned on its side, but he made it look easy. It was clear he’d spent years honing his efficiency. 

As I watched him lean far to one side to reach the “P” key, I had to bite my lip to resist the urge to nudge his little chair closer, just to help him reach. I knew well enough by now, that’d earn me a tiny jabbing finger in my direction and more than a few choice words spat out about not letting him do things for himself. 

I sighed under my breath. That seemed to be our continual conundrum: How could I help him and show him kindness without him taking everything I said and did as a threat to his autonomy? What was wrong with helping out every now and again? 

“I can feel you staring at me, Miss Marquez…” His tone was accusatory. I’d been caught. How could he possibly have known? He didn’t even bother to look up as he continued to copy something down on the tiny page before him. I felt my face flush. How could someone so small take me to task so easily? 

I sputtered before managing a reply, “W-well… you can’t be fully focusing either, if you’re so worried about what I’m doing!” 

“Natalie, the energetic force of your direct gaze is the proportional equivalent of two full moon beams on a clear, pitch black night… they’re impossible to ignore.” Goddamn. Still, he refused to even hazard a glance up. He could be a mean little thing when he wanted to be. Undeterred he kept right along, “You can’t assist me with my own legal matters if you refuse to study your own. If you aren’t interested in helping, I’ll just go find some other human’s pantry to raid…” 

I rolled my eyes and groaned, “Fuck you, little bastard! You’re such a bully!” I pointed my index finger at his chest. That finally got his attention. He dropped his notes in his lap, craning his neck to meet my eyes.

He shook his head, brow furrowing, “Oh, c’mon, admit it. That was good. Moon Beams Marquez… maybe that’s what I’ll call you now. Since you’re so fond of truly atrocious nicknames, you deserve one of your very own.” 

“Oh you want a war, Ale-Ale-Oxen-Free? Is that what you want?” 

My finger, about as thick around as his little head, dove for his chest again, this time playfully pushing into his sternum and sending him rolling across the desk. The second he began to careen backwards, he gripped the armrests, clinging to the piece of furniture like a shipwrecked sailor tossed about on a tumultuous sea. I could practically see his raised hackles. Poor thing, I wasn’t trying to actually scare him! 

His journey across the desk came to a sudden halt when I laid my hand across his path, easily catching him in the soft barrier of my palm, little chair and all. He immediately whipped around to see just what had stopped him. When he seemed to understand he wasn’t going anywhere, he relaxed his tiny white knuckle grip on the arm rests.  

In spite of his painfully obvious fright around this whole ordeal, he insisted on pretending all was well as he sucked in a breath and locked eyes with me, puffing out his chest a bit in a far too late display of nonchalance, “That’s some of your weakest work, Natalie. It’s not even remotely original.” Oh yeah? Is that a challenge, little man? 

Without giving him more than a second or two to catch his breath, I dove for his little ankle with my finger and thumb, pulling him closer to me. For all his show of bravery, he went right back to clinging to the chair, as he lurched forward, “You know I didn’t have to stop you, just now, I could’ve just let you roll right off the desk…” I brought him close, the tip of my nose only an  inch or so from his fluttering chest. I was delighted by the jumpy little thing before me. It doesn’t take much to fluster you, does it, Alexander?  His blue eyes shimmered as he blinked rapidly, waiting to see what would happen to him next. Delicately, I balanced his heel on the pad of my index, bouncing it up and down slightly, “Ah, he’s too stunned for words! You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right? It’s way too much fun to tease you to let you go that easily.” 

At that, he huffed and rolled his eyes, retracting his leg and planting it back on the floor, “If you’re this invested in not getting any of your work done, the least you can do is be considerate enough not to interrupt mine!” 

I wanted to quip back, but I knew he was right. I had completely derailed our efforts. But could he really blame me? I wished he could see himself through my eyes. Then, I was certain, he’d understand why it was so hard not to mess with him every now and again. 

Adjusting my spine to sit up straighter, I returned my focus back to my monitor. I was gonna cram this boring ass shit in my head one way or another, goddammit. I started to read, taking notes on key terms. Every time I was tempted to ogle over my tiny counterpart, I reined myself in by fiddling with my blue ballpoint pen. Focus, Nat. 

I read, fidgeted, reset, then read some more. The worst part was he would occasionally shift in his chair, clear his throat, run his hands through his hair to sweep the bangs from his eyes, or generally just move about in miniature and it was so difficult not to stare. 

I clicked the pen to steady myself. He cleared his throat. I kept clicking. He sat up, board straight. I tried so hard not to let my eyes slide from the screen to look at him. I kept fidgeting. 

Suddenly, I felt a tiny, yet forceful tug on my sleeve, accompanied by a strained voice through clenched teeth, “Natalie.” 

“Hm? You ok?” There was no rule that said I couldn’t gawk at him if he got my attention first! I happily gazed down at him, still toying with the writing utensil between my fingers. 

“Oh certainly, I’d be fine… if…” his face was all hard lines and creases. Uh oh. He was grumpy about something. Well, when wasn’t he? I prepared myself for another tiny lecture. 

 As he spoke these words, he plucked along the fabric of my sleeve to wheel himself toward my hand, resting alongside him on the desktop. Then, much to my suprise, he threw himself over the back of my hand, reaching up for the top of the pen, where my thumb rested. With a determined grip he clutched the clicking mechanism, staring up at me with blazing eyes “… if you stop clicking this damned pen!” He used his left hand to shove at the pad of my thumb, trying to coax it away from the writing utensil. 

He was splayed out over my hand, his good leg balancing on his tippy toes while he kept the other leg away from the ground. His hair was in his eyes, his mouth twisted into a scowl. He was pissed. I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. His face went scarlet, even as his little body shook slightly from my bouts of giggling ricocheting from my torso, down the length of my arm and through my hand. 

“Why are you laughing?! You are truly the most obnoxious desk mate I could have possibly conjured up and you have the audacity to laugh at me?!” His left hand was quick to grip onto the knuckle of my index for better balance. 

“Oh my god, you’re so mad. Look, I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry, Alexander. I didn’t realize how… annoying that was. It’s just a tick… of mine when I’m distracted…” I was barely even able to get a word in, between all my involuntary chuckling. 

“Oh really? Really?! You don’t understand how this could be annoying??” He was practically growling at me, his eyes blazing as his mouth turned into a grumpy, dissatisfied frown. He practically smacked the tip of my thumb away and then proceeded to use the flat of his palm to furiously click the pen over and over again in as rapid succession as he could manage all while boring holes into my skull with his vicious little gaze. 

I waved the white flag, “Alright! Alright! Point made! You’re just mister particular about every little thing aren’t you? I didn’t even click it that fast!” I guided his hand away with a small flick of my fingernail under his little elbow.

“You might as well for all the noise you were making with it. Do you realize how obnoxiously loud that mechanism is, sitting right next to me?” 

“Point taken. I’m sorry, Alexander…” I shifted my grip on the pen and transferred it to the surface of the notebook via my left hand. Then, taking advantage of his body being slightly slumped over my fingers, I gently squeezed his upper arm against the side of my index with the pad of my thumb, anchoring him to my hand. Lifting him up to eye level, I delighted in how his body splayed across my knuckles as his legs dangled. 

The moment he was airborne, he flushed brightly, squirming a bit as he gripped onto my finger with both hands. I’ve gotcha, I won’t drop you, you’re okay. 

“W-what’re you…?” 

“I’m sorry for being a foolish, obnoxious human that kept you from your favorite thing in the world: getting your nerd on. I do solemnly swear before this jury of one to dedicate myself to the serious business of helping this little lawyer-to-be prosecute the hell out of those piece of shit humans that dared to fuck with the smartest little man I’ve ever met.” As I spoke I held my hand up as if taking an oath. He stared at me, a smirk curling his lips as he caught on. 

*********** 

Finishing her lighthearted display of solidarity, she leaned in closer, the tip of her finger headed straight for the crown of my head. It wasn’t that long ago I would’ve jerked away and shunned her touch, but now, I let her clear the bangs from my face with only a miniscule spike in the rhythm of my heartbeats. What sort of witchcraft did she possess that within a few seconds’ time she’d managed to take me from scowling and shouting at her, to quietly thrilled at the touch of her fingertip on my scalp?  

Lawyer-to-be. She’d actually said those words, out loud. I thoroughly relished the sound of them. The pad of her index lingered, settling between my shoulder blades. Her touch was warm, soft. 

“I’m not exactly used to having to share a workspace with someone so… perceptive when it comes to all the little details. Will you forgive me?” That was a nice way of saying someone with a miniscule perspective and, therefore, a hair-trigger sensitivity. She couldn’t possibly understand though, all her flurries of movements, her thoughtful humming, her simple fiddling with office objects, while minor infractions to her, were frustrating, impossible to ignore distractions to me. 

She was waiting, anxiously, for my reply. I propped myself up on one elbow, tipping my chin, “I’ll be drafting a workplace contract that stipulates all unacceptable, obnoxious and counterproductive behavior. Upon your consenting signature, I’ll be willing to consider your apology.” 

Her brow furrowed as she wrinkled her nose, “You’re such a fucking prick, I genuinely can’t tell if you’re serious or not.” 

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her bewilderment, before responding, “If you want to be a lawyer, Ms. Marquez, you’ll need to get much better at telling when someone is playing a practical joke on you.” Much to my amusement, she genuinely breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Well, I have no doubt, with you teaching me, I’ll get better soon enough. Now, little nerd, are we doing this? Like, for real?” She offered the tip of her index finger to shake. I took it in hand, and shook heartily, “That settles it. Our case has my full, undivided attention from here on out. Okay?” Our case. I had a case. A real one. And a human to help unlock the barriers that came with filing it, “Don’t look so excited. First of all I’ve never seen you this giddy without hardcore drugs and secondly, you realize that means you’re stuck with me… like all the time now, right?” I couldn’t believe I was just allowing her to lay me across her hand while we had this conversation. When did I become the sort of man who would let a human do this to me and not give it a second thought? When did I become the sort of man who liked it? 

“Isn’t that the hell on earth I’ve endured up until this point? What’s changed exactly?” 

She visibly rolled her eyes before answering, “Oh my god you’re such a drama king. No, you little bastard. I still had class before. Now, I’m all yours!” 

“Ah, yes, how could I ever forget the infamous, what’d you call it? Ah, yes, ‘rat jail’ incident? On a separate point entirely, you can’t skip your lectures! We need all the information we can get. The last thing I need is you falling any further behind than you already are!” 

“Ouch! You really couldn’t resist punching me when I’m down could, ya? Nah, it’s fine, I’m close friends with the TA in my main lectures, I’ll tell him I’ve had some kinda family emergency. Besides, he owes me a favor, I’ll guilt trip him into counting me as present and he can just send me the taping of the lectures they always keep for archival. Piece of cake!” 

While I disliked the nonchalance with which she was ready to break the rules, I admit it left me feeling thankful that she was willing to devote all her time to me and my work. Was I feeling strangely warm again? The flush of color to my face seemed to know no limit today. 

My gratitude was short lived however, when my world flipped as she gripped me beneath my arms and plucked me up, now perpendicular to the floor far below, I dangled between her fingers, as she began to look me over, head to toe. I tried my best to hide the rhythm of my beating heart, but she seemed already preoccupied as her gaze landed on my injury, “While we are paused, though, now’s a good a time as any to mention we really should start doing some PT on that leg of yours before the muscles atrophy too much.” She used the pad of her finger to cradle my right heel, her face showing compassion laced in her furrowed brow. 

I cleared my throat to get her attention, “I concur. Though, I’ll have a much easier time working on said muscles if I was ever allowed to use them….” I cast an accusatory glance at the finger and thumb which held me captive. 

“You know, on second thought… forget what I just said. I can just carry you around wherever you wanna go…” she rubbed her thumb over my chest. Why did the mere brush of her finger elicit such a strong physical reaction from me? I was all red and uncomfortable again. 

“No! No, we’ll none of that! Bad human! Put me down! Right now!” I batted at her fingers, knowing full well it was of no use to fight her grip, she’d have to release me herself. She stuck her lower lip out and pouted, dishing out the puppy dog eyes with extreme fervor, “No! I won’t be contradicted or manipulated. Down, I say!” I scowled, folding my arms over my chest. 

“You’re no fun, I hope you know that, little sourpuss.” She cocked an eyebrow, playing the game with as much enthusiasm as I was, before carefully lowering me into my chair. 

Slowly, after taking a moment to settle, we returned to our work in earnest. She tried her level best not to fidget and when she failed in this endeavor a terse calling of her name was enough to correct her. 

In this way, minutes faded into hours, that cascaded into days, and before I knew it, weeks had given way to months and now we were on our 9th week of working together. 

I already filled one of the notebooks I’d been given from cover to cover and was halfway through my second. I’d run through countless pencils during that time, too. She’d always tease me and pretend to read my writing, either by looming over my shoulder or plucking up the tiny (to her) booklet and, pinching it very carefully between her fingers, but, much to my satisfaction, the letters themselves were far too small for her to distinguish with her naked eye. My work was mine and mine alone, a fact that made me swell with pride. 

 I’d managed to go over Natalie’s data plan on her phone about three weeks in. When she’d glanced down and noticed the warning message, she’d raised her brows, plucking the device up and away. 

“What the fuck?! You ran through my entire data plan for the month!! How?! Why didn’t you keep it on wi-fi???” 

“Your wi-fi is abysmal. You know this. You complain about it daily. I wasn’t going to let such technological handicaps hinder my progress.” 

“Goddammit, Alexander! You realize I have to pay for that right? Please tell me you at least didn’t know I was getting charged…” 

“… I had no knowledge of charges incurred…” 

“Oh my fucking god! You’re a terrible liar! You did know didn’t you? Little Nightmare, you’re going to bleed me dry, I swear to god. Were you just… not gonna tell me?!” 

“Not until I finished compiling evidence! You would’ve switched me back to wi-fi and I would’ve suffered greatly due to those agonizing connection issues!” 

“So you’d rather charge me hundreds of dollars than wait for a webpage to load for like… 20 extra seconds?!?” 

All I could do was shrug. 

“Fuck!” 

Clearly, our path to success was not without its  occasional speed bumps, but I’d characterize our forward momentum as generally headed in a positive direction. For example, while Natalie made progress on her coursework, with help from yours truly, of course, she also assisted me in exercising the torn muscles of my leg as we began the process of rehabilitation. Working out every day, with the added benefit of having plenty of weight resistance in the form of giant fingers that could counterweight whatever exercise I was engaged in, I made steady progress. 

With the help of the aluminum forearm crutch (regrettably provided by the very same institution I was working so aggressively to destroy) I was now able to walk short distances without considerable pain, and I could stand with my weight shifted off my right leg with comfortable balance. In any case, it felt delightful to walk on my own two legs again, even if only for limited stretches. 

The other utterly delightful benefit of our new arrangement was that I effectively got to attend law school with her. She’d managed, somehow, to convince her teaching assistant friend to send along the lectures, poorly filmed in the back of a sweeping hall, the auditorium-like seating steeply raked around a small stage, a massive projector behind the professor as he gestured emphatically and spoke into a lavalier microphone. It delighted me to no end how, from this perspective, the camera angled down on the spectacle below, how small the lecturer seemed, dwarfed by the silhouette of students’ shoulders. I would never admit this to Natalie, but as I watched, hanging on every word of his teachings, I couldn’t help but squint and picture myself in his place. Small, yes, but deeply convicted, passionate and knowledgeable, making up for my stature in my engaging rhetoric and undeniable love for the subject I was imparting. 

All in all, Natalie saw to it that I ate remarkably well, and we both finally got an adequate amount of sleep for the first time either of us could remember in our recent histories. I admit, I found her less desirable quirks much more manageable on a full stomach and with adequate rest. 

She’d even managed to convince me to tear myself from my work on occasion to watch some serialized television show with her, or cheer her on as she played video games with all sorts of fantastical creatures to vanquish. Her taste in media was abysmal and her proficiency in gaming was even more lacking, but… I admit, the way my heart swelled when she laughed until she cried at some poorly executed joke on her show, or she growled in frustration, swearing this time she was going to beat the enemy she’d been trying to vanquish for the last hour and a half because she ‘could feel it in her bones’ and, she was destined to win because she had her ‘grouchy little good luck charm with her’ went far beyond anything I’d ever experienced. 

 On nights like these, I could always see in the twitchiness of her fingers how badly she wanted to cradle me against her chest or in her lap, but she always settled me on the back of the couch just beside her, lounging in my own designated blanket pile, instead. Her show of restraint meant a great deal to me. And at the same time, I couldn’t help but reflect on how impossible my current situation would’ve seemed to me just a few weeks ago. Not only was I surviving in the company of a human, but… dare I say it? I was thriving. 

I was working harder than I’d ever had in my life and yet I’d never felt more at ease or more enthused to leap from bed each day and dive eagerly into the task at hand. And as my heart swelled and warmed in the comfort of the only stable living situation I’d ever known, the world outside the apartment walls grew ever more frigid.

The rainy chill of early fall had given way to the crisp, icy, cold of winter, as snowfall became a regular occurrence. I’d never been more grateful to be safe, warm and dry than when I watched the snow flurries batter the window panes and the creaking winter wind howl through the skeletal branches of the barren trees. 

It was on such an icy winter morning, seemingly no different than the ones that’d come before it, that this comfortable routine was suddenly and undeniably altered.

I was proud of the fact that I’d gradually forced Natalie to get up earlier and earlier to take advantage of the day. If it had been up to her, I’m almost certain she’d have slept in until eleven every morning! What a waste of precious time! I’d served as her much maligned alarm clock for many mornings before this, making all sorts of obnoxious sounds until, in groaning frustration, she’d rise. I wouldn’t stop until she stood from the bed on both feet. She very much wanted to throttle me in the beginning and I was grateful she hadn’t given in to her impulses. But now we both regularly woke around 5:30 or 6 am. 

All that to say, on this day in question, at the fateful hour of 10:30 am, we’d already cooked, eaten and put away breakfast, shared tea (I’d discovered that earl grey was by far my favorite) and had been working for several hours when a sharp rap at the door pricked both our ears. 

My stomach dropped, as I feverishly searched Natalie’s features for an indication on how to interpret this unexpected interruption. Just because I’d become gradually more accustomed to this human’s presence didn’t mean I felt at all ready to be introduced to some unknown stranger. 

Her brow furrowed as she sat very still. It was clear she didn’t know who it was either. Locking eyes with me, she clocked my nerves immediately. I admit I was disappointed that she’d read me so easily, I’d hoped I could’ve managed to put on a braver countenance than that. Upon seeing my stiffened spine, she brushed a finger along my back, in an attempt to coax me into a more relaxed state. Suffice it to say, it was hardly effective, “I’m gonna ignore it. Might just be UPS delivering something to the wrong door or like… Mormons or something…” We both pretended to ignore the howling wind and active sheets of ice and snow cascading from the sky that made those theories less plausible. 

Another series of knocks, harder, much more insistent. We both jumped at the harsh pounding of bone on wood. Whoever it was, they were awfully emphatic. 

“I guess I should probably go see—“ As Natalie spoke, she rose from her chair, crossing towards her bedroom door. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. What if something dangerous awaited her on the other side? I wasn’t exactly in the most advantageous position to help her, even if my leg had been fully functional. Just as she’d crossed before the door, already ajar about a quarter of the way, and her fingertips had brushed the knob, there was the distinct clamor of a key sliding into a lock and the grind of that lock sliding open. 

Natalie’s eyes widened in disbelief and shock, while I leapt to my feet, reaching for my cane to steady myself. The color drained from her face as she heard the initial creak of her door opening. She whipped around and leaned down to address me, “Stay here, and hide. Don’t come out until I come and get you. There’s only a few people who know where my hidden key is, but if this is something else… I just want you to be safe, I don’t want you getting hurt. Don’t pull some stupid hero shit on me, you hear me? Keep yourself hidden. Do you understand?” 

I nodded, having no intention of cowering like a frightened child while she confronted the mystery currently entering her apartment. She gave me one last look before turning on her heel and exiting the bedroom. The second she left, I scrambled to the pen holder, fishing out her rather sharp letter opener, and brandishing it like a pike in my left hand, I stood armed and wary, straining to hear the sounds of giant footsteps, and an opening front door beyond that, over the cacophony of my own ragged breath and thunderous heart. 

I had no clue just what lay in wait for us from behind that door, but I would later come to the undeniable conclusion that nothing would ever be the same from this point forward

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jeffrey Goldberg at The Atlantic:

In April 2020, Vanessa Guillén, a 20-year-old Army private, was bludgeoned to death by a fellow soldier at Fort Hood, in Texas. The killer, aided by his girlfriend, burned Guillén’s body. Guillén’s remains were discovered two months later, buried in a riverbank near the base, after a massive search.

Guillén, the daughter of Mexican immigrants, grew up in Houston, and her murder sparked outrage across Texas and beyond. Fort Hood had become known as a particularly perilous assignment for female soldiers, and members of Congress took up the cause of reform. Shortly after her remains were discovered, President Donald Trump himself invited the Guillén family to the White House. With Guillén’s mother seated beside him, Trump spent 25 minutes with the family as television cameras recorded the scene. In the meeting, Trump maintained a dignified posture and expressed sympathy to Guillén’s mother. “I saw what happened to your daughter Vanessa, who was a spectacular person, and respected and loved by everybody, including in the military,” Trump said. Later in the conversation, he made a promise: “If I can help you out with the funeral, I’ll help—I’ll help you with that,” he said. “I’ll help you out. Financially, I’ll help you.”

Natalie Khawam, the family’s attorney, responded, “I think the military will be paying—taking care of it.” Trump replied, “Good. They’ll do a military. That’s good. If you need help, I’ll help you out.” Later, a reporter covering the meeting asked Trump, “Have you offered to do that for other families before?” Trump responded, “I have. I have. Personally. I have to do it personally. I can’t do it through government.” The reporter then asked: “So you’ve written checks to help for other families before this?” Trump turned to the family, still present, and said, “I have, I have, because some families need help … Maybe you don’t need help, from a financial standpoint. I have no idea what—I just think it’s a horrific thing that happened. And if you did need help, I’m going to—I’ll be there to help you.” A public memorial service was held in Houston two weeks after the White House meeting. It was followed by a private funeral and burial in a local cemetery, attended by, among others, the mayor of Houston and the city’s police chief. Highways were shut down, and mourners lined the streets.

Five months later, the secretary of the Army, Ryan McCarthy, announced the results of an investigation. McCarthy cited numerous “leadership failures” at Fort Hood and relieved or suspended several officers, including the base’s commanding general. In a press conference, McCarthy said that the murder “shocked our conscience” and “forced us to take a critical look at our systems, our policies, and ourselves.” According to a person close to Trump at the time, the president was agitated by McCarthy’s comments and raised questions about the severity of the punishments dispensed to senior officers and noncommissioned officers.

In an Oval Office meeting on December 4, 2020, officials gathered to discuss a separate national-security issue. Toward the end of the discussion, Trump asked for an update on the McCarthy investigation. Christopher Miller, the acting secretary of defense (Trump had fired his predecessor, Mark Esper, three weeks earlier, writing in a tweet, “Mark Esper has been terminated”), was in attendance, along with Miller’s chief of staff, Kash Patel. At a certain point, according to two people present at the meeting, Trump asked, “Did they bill us for the funeral? What did it cost?” According to attendees, and to contemporaneous notes of the meeting taken by a participant, an aide answered: Yes, we received a bill; the funeral cost $60,000.

Trump became angry. “It doesn’t cost 60,000 bucks to bury a fucking Mexican!” He turned to his chief of staff, Mark Meadows, and issued an order: “Don’t pay it!” Later that day, he was still agitated. “Can you believe it?” he said, according to a witness. “Fucking people, trying to rip me off.” Khawam, the family attorney, told me she sent the bill to the White House, but no money was ever received by the family from Trump. Some of the costs, Khawam said, were covered by the Army (which offered, she said, to allow Guillén to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery) and some were covered by donations. Ultimately, Guillén was buried in Houston.

Shortly after I emailed a series of questions to a Trump spokesperson, Alex Pfeiffer, I received an email from Khawam, who asked me to publish a statement from Mayra Guillén, Vanessa’s sister. Pfeiffer then emailed me the same statement. “I am beyond grateful for all the support President Donald Trump showed our family during a trying time,” the statement reads. “I witnessed firsthand how President Trump honors our nation’s heroes’ service. We are grateful for everything he has done and continues to do to support our troops.”

Pfeiffer told me that he did not write that statement, and emailed me a series of denials. Regarding Trump’s “fucking Mexican” comment, Pfeiffer wrote: “President Donald Trump never said that. This is an outrageous lie from The Atlantic two weeks before the election.” He provided statements from Patel and a spokesman for Meadows, who denied having heard Trump make the statement. Via Pfeiffer, Meadows’s spokesman also denied that Trump had ordered Meadows not to pay for the funeral. The statement from Patel that Pfeiffer sent me said: “As someone who was present in the room with President Trump, he strongly urged that Spc. Vanessa Guillen’s grieving family should not have to bear the cost of any funeral arrangements, even offering to personally pay himself in order to honor her life and sacrifice. In addition, President Trump was able to have the Department of Defense designate her death as occurring ‘in the line of duty,’ which gave her full military honors and provided her family access to benefits, services, and complete financial assistance.”

The personal qualities displayed by Trump in his reaction to the cost of the Guillén funeral—contempt, rage, parsimony, racism—hardly surprised his inner circle. Trump has frequently voiced his disdain for those who serve in the military and for their devotion to duty, honor, and sacrifice. Former generals who have worked for Trump say that the sole military virtue he prizes is obedience. As his presidency drew to a close, and in the years since, he has become more and more interested in the advantages of dictatorship, and the absolute control over the military that he believes it would deliver. “I need the kind of generals that Hitler had,” Trump said in a private conversation in the White House, according to two people who heard him say this. “People who were totally loyal to him, that follow orders.” (“This is absolutely false,” Pfeiffer wrote in an email. “President Trump never said this.”) A desire to force U.S. military leaders to be obedient to him and not the Constitution is one of the constant themes of Trump’s military-related discourse. Former officials have also cited other recurring themes: his denigration of military service, his ignorance of the provisions of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, his admiration for brutality and anti-democratic norms of behavior, and his contempt for wounded veterans and for soldiers who fell in battle.

[...] Trump has often expressed his esteem for the type of power wielded by such autocrats as the Chinese leader Xi Jinping; his admiration, even jealousy, of Vladimir Putin is well known. In recent days, he has signaled that, should he win reelection in November, he would like to govern in the manner of these dictators—he has said explicitly that he would like to be a dictator for a day on his first day back in the White House—and he has threatened to, among other things, unleash the military on “radical-left lunatics.” (One of his four former national security advisers, John Bolton, wrote in his memoir, “It is a close contest between Putin and Xi Jinping who would be happiest to see Trump back in office.”)

Military leaders have condemned Trump for possessing autocratic tendencies. At his retirement ceremony last year, Milley said, “We don’t take an oath to a king, or a queen, or to a tyrant or dictator, and we don’t take an oath to a wannabe dictator … We take an oath to the Constitution, and we take an oath to the idea that is America, and we’re willing to die to protect it.” Over the past several years, Milley has privately told several interlocutors that he believed Trump to be a fascist. Many other leaders have also been shocked by Trump’s desire for revenge against his domestic critics. At the height of the Floyd protests, Mattis wrote, “When I joined the military, some 50 years ago, I swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution. Never did I dream that troops taking that same oath would be ordered under any circumstance to violate the Constitutional rights of their fellow citizens.”

Trump’s frustration with American military leaders led him to disparage them regularly. In their book A Very Stable Genius, Carol Leonnig and Philip Rucker, both of The Washington Post, reported that in 2017, during a meeting at the Pentagon, Trump screamed at a group of generals: “I wouldn’t go to war with you people. You’re a bunch of dopes and babies.” And in his book Rage, Bob Woodward reported that Trump complained that “my fucking generals are a bunch of pussies. They care more about their alliances than they do about trade deals.”

Trump’s disdain for American military officers is motivated in part by their willingness to accept low salaries. Once, after a White House briefing given by the then-chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Joseph Dunford, Trump said to aides, “That guy is smart. Why did he join the military?” (On another occasion, John Kelly asked Trump to guess Dunford’s annual salary. The president’s answer: $5 million. Dunford’s actual salary was less than $200,000.) Trump has often expressed his love for the trappings of martial power, demanding of his aides that they stage the sort of armor-heavy parades foreign to American tradition. Civilian aides and generals alike pushed back. In one instance, Air Force General Paul Selva, who was then serving as vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, told the president that he had been partially raised in Portugal, which, he explained, “was a dictatorship—and parades were about showing the people who had the guns. In America, we don’t do that. It’s not who we are.”

The Atlantic released the story of Donald Trump musing about having the same kind of generals that Hitler had and complained about paying $60,000 for “a fucking Mexican”’s funeral (Vanessa Guillén).

This man is a sick monster devoid of any empathy.

See Also:

HuffPost: Trump Wanted ‘Hitler’s Generals,’ Former Chief Of Staff Says

Daily Kos: Latest Trump bombshell—and Hitler praise—will make your jaw drop

Read the full story at The Atlantic.

[crownowlistaken]

i wonder if the girls will manipulate the card drawing. that seems obvious because in the first one misty, travis and javi all work to save nat. but at least they were all under the illusion that it would be fair. however with the next ones it seems fairly obvious that nat won’t be in the draw so i wonder if the other girls will start finding ways to make sure the people they care about live. like taissa and van.

also if at some point they stop drawing cards all together (because as far as we’ve seen the person who drew the card never dies) and instead start voting each other out. because from the opening scene it looks like that girl was just stranded in the woods and left to be hunted to death.

[stinkybreath]

someone in my pop culture fb group just insulted a red carpet look by saying “it’s giving paralegal” and that was such a Victoria-ass burn I felt compelled to mention it here

[autism-swagger]

Anyone else lowkey terrified by those celebrities that are identical.