#scream about its a cheap piece of garbage anyways and that too many people in this family are hoards and we can throw the literally broken

[bioaccumulation]

I hate being polite I just want to tell the truth all the time

[decaffeinatedcatastrope]

Sorry for not posting much this week, it’s the busy season at my workplace and I’ve been doing 60′s!  Mostly just teaching people how to not be stupid or lazy.

Anyway, have this snippet from the fic-in-progress; Red and Sans meet for the first time.  

aka: Sans is pissed that he got blamed for dumb stuff Red did, got thrown in jail for three days, and wants to ‘talk’ to Red.

aka:  Red thinks Sans is gonna kill him (he’s not) and falls off a roof, and Sans gets threatened with dick biting.

There’s some weird perspective shifts, since Red still thinks of himself as Sans at this point in time.  There’s also some Papyrus being a cutiepie.

warnings:  cursing and injury

‘should be a good haul this time’  Sans thought with a grin, as he practically jingled with loot he’d lifted off random humans around town.  Cash and coins were all well and good, but so many humans only carried those stupid plastic cards protected by PIN codes that were completely useless to him.  So, he’d moved on to sneaking off with watches and jewelry, sometimes whole handbags and even sunglasses.  So many humans owned stupidly expensive pieces of garbage.

The door to the pawn shop beeped as he entered, and the pawn broker, Johan, beamed at him.  He’d become a regular in the past few months, and the shady little shit of a man never questioned exactly where he’d gotten all his loot.  Sans swore he’d stolen the same custom Rolex off three different people already.  But as long as he got paid...

“’ey bud.  got some good stuff for ya.”  Sans sauntered up to the counter and began to empty his pockets.  

The door beeped again, another customer, but no one got in line behind him, so he ignored it.  He was well disguised enough now that he didn’t worry about getting recognized.  Curiously, he plucked a ring out of the pile of shit he’d stolen before the broker could snatch it away.  Thick band, gold with a ruby red gem.  Fake, but pretty.  Some kind of class ring or something, probably not worth much.  

It fit on his middle phalanx nicely, and he just grinned as Johan gave him an incredulous look.  “Cheap.  It suits you.”  He replied, mildly amused.

“fuck you too bud.”  Sans grumbled, also amused.  He felt pretty good today.  Less pain.  Today was gonna be a good--

He jolted as he felt himself being checked, and barely stopped it before it completed.  Whoever had entered the store was a monster, and one with shitty manners at that.  Hardly anyone just randomly checked him anymore, unless he freaked them out.

Curling in on himself, Sans hid his hands in his pockets and looked over his shoulder.  He didn’t see anyone, but he knew they were there.  He could feel them staring daggers into his back.  “...hey, i’ll be outta yer way in a sec.”

Johan was just finishing up the tally on his haul before dumping it all into a box and setting the case full of cash on the desk.  “Alright, I can give you 250 for all of--”

“250?  the fuck man, you know that watch is worth at least a hundred on its’ own.  350.”  Sans snapped.  

Johan rolled his eyes and sighed.  “Fine, you’re right.  300?”  

“fine, you frugal ass.  gimme.  ‘m in a rush.”  Sans held out his hand for the cash, and as soon as Johan was done counting, he turned to leave.   “alright i’m out.  see ya.”

“Until next time, friend!  Maybe rob a Hot Topic this time so you don’t smell so much like a fast food dumpster!”  Johan called after him, laughing.  Sans snarled and flipped him off, before taking all of three steps before he ran right into whoever had checked him.  

Sans glanced down to see his alternate in all his short, shitty glory glaring up at him, his sockets dark.  Welp.  “...hey buddy.  i think you and me need to have a talk.”  Spoke an all too familiar baritone.  Just barely an octave deeper than his own.  

Of course it has to be him.  Fuck this day.  Fuck me.  Just fuck.  Sans paused for just a second before shoving his alternate out of the way and bolting for the door.  

“shit shit SHIT.”  He hissed, slamming through the door and running for the corner, before he felt himself bodily flung against the side of the pawn shop, held there with blue magic.  “fuck, why did it have to be him!”  

“well that was rude.”  Other Sans replied, approaching him cautiously.  His left eye was blazing with magic, and he hardly looked like he was putting any effort into keeping Sans pinned.  It was actually infuriating how easy the weakass bastard made using Blue Magic look.

“the fuck’s your problem, man?  put me down.”  Sans demanded, trying to play the ‘i have no idea what’s going on so you better stop’ card.  Hopefully his hood was keeping his face hidden.  

Other Sans caught his bluff and simply scoffed.

“nah.  you and me, we’re gonna have a chat.  if you behave, maybe i’ll put you down.  but maybe not, since you’ve got some pretty heavy LV going on there.  you’re probably pretty dangerous, actually.”  Other Sans commented.  

Sans flinched.  He’d stopped the check, when had he...?  Oh god, was this Sans also The Judge?  The cold, knowing look he was getting told him that yes, this was The Judge of this world and his ass was getting Judged real hard.

Sans tried to speak, to say something, to do something, but he was panicking.  The way he was now, he was way too weak to do much damage, even backed by strong intent.  But all it would take was one hit, just one, his alternate only had one HP.  But...he didn’t want to do that.  What kind of damage to the timeline would that cause?  What would happen to him if the anomaly reset while he was here?

Other Sans raised a brow bone at his silence.  “...uh, you okay there pal?  you’re looking a little rattled.  heh.”  He asked, sounding almost concerned.  Almost.

‘do something anything fuck fuck FUCK’  Sans’ mind finally screamed at him, and he delved into what little magic he’d stored back up.  His alternate jumped in shock before being thrown across the street into traffic, causing his hold on Sans to falter.  Unfortunately, Sans’ own hold failed not long after, letting his alternate shortcut safely out of the way of a passing truck.

“shit.”  Sans whispered, ducking into the alleyway before forcing himself into his own shortcut.  Just getting on top of the building hurt like a bitch and made his soul scream in protest, and he barely rolled out of the way in time to dodge a set of bones flung at him with surprising accuracy.  For someone with such shitty stats, Other Sans sure seemed to have good aim.  

It took him another moment to realize that now he was actually being attacked by his alternate, and decided he’d probably pissed the smaller skeleton off enough to be worried.  Another set of bones came a second later, and he took off sprinting across the roof.  There was a pop as his alternate appeared behind him, and Sans managed to escape another attempted pin by shoving Other Sans back with his own Blue Magic.  But his alternate barely stumbled.

He was nearly at the edge of the roof when a wall of bones shot up to block him.  Out of instinct, he pulled himself into another shortcut - at least, he tried, before he felt the most god awful stabbing pain in his chest and he screamed.  His magic had refused, and he tumbled into the bone attacks before slipping off the roof.  

Looking back, he barely caught the shocked look on his alternates face before he crashed against the railing of a fire escape, bounced off a closed dumpster, and tumbled onto the asphalt to lie in a heap.  

Everything was pain.  Drawing in air for non-existent lungs was pain.  Trying to moan in pain was pain.  He shuddered and felt the tingle of shortcut magic shoot up his spine, his soul screaming at him for magic he wasn’t using.

“--oh fuck.  i thought you’d shortcut around them, not run right through them, geez.”  His alternate whispered harshly, tentatively reaching out to touch his shoulder.  “i’m sorry, i just--”

Sans snarled, and snapped his teeth in an attempt to bite the little fucker’s hand.  “don’t fuckin’ touch me, you little bitch.”  He hissed.

His alternate pulled back and glared at him.  “wow, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?”  He spat.  “sorry for actually worrying about you, asshole.”  

Sans managed to choke out a laugh.  “y-you should be sorry.  for being a f-fuckin’ creampuff.”  He shook with the effort of talking, and everything was just...pain.  Why did this hurt so much??  “...although, for someone with only 1 ATK, this...hurts.  a lot.”

His alternate actually looked...remorseful?  “that’s because of your LV.  only one attack, but it hits you once for every LV you have.  So, five bone attacks multiplied by your 13 LV--”

“i know basic math, dipshit.” Sans coughed.  He tried to get up, and cried out in agony as his bad arm gave out.  His alternate had the gall to try and hold him down.  

“don’t move, you also took some pretty nasty damage in the fall.  just, uh, don’t try to bite me again.”  Other Sans let him go after a moment, and pulled a monster candy out of his pocket, offering them to him.  “here.”

Sans’ soul clenched at the sight.  He wanted to, he knew that the candy was full of magic he so desperately needed, but he also knew it’d probably kill him at this point.    “god no, please.  no monster food.  i can’t.”  He moaned, almost sobbing.

His alternate pulled back in confusion.  “what?  you need to heal, this’ll--”  

“i know what it does, i just - i can’t take it.  yer fuckin’ creampuff magic is trying to kill me.”  Sans explained.  It didn’t seem to help.  “ugh, i’m not...from here.  this universe.  so turns out, my magic is different enough from yours that they’re incompatible, or some shit.  i dunno...”  He felt something in him give way, and everything went dark for a moment.  But at least the pain stopped.  

Wait, that was probably bad.

“...so you are me.  how did you even - wait don’t fall asleep, you gotta stay - oh fuck.”  

---------

Holy crap, so this was actually Sans’ alternate from another timeline.  Or universe.  An entirely different set of timelines, so different that he said his magic couldn’t even process their food.  And he’d probably just killed him by chasing him off the side of a building.

“paps, it’s near the pawn shop.  yeah, i’m fine.  i’ll explain everything in the car, just hurry.”  Hanging up the phone, he cautiously gave the other skeleton a quick check, since he couldn’t just cheat his way out of it this time.

Sans

LV: 13

ATK: 60 DEF: 10

HP: 12/145

*His bark is worse than his bite.

Sans grimaced.  Just...what kind of twisted hell verse did this guy come from, where any version of himself was forced to have so much LV?  At least his HP seemed to finally stabilize.  He sighed, deciding that there wasn’t much else to do but wait for Papyrus, since he’d figured a shortcut would probably do more damage than good.  

Cautiously, he reached out and touched one of his Other’s distal phalanges.  The ends were slightly darker, curled into barely noticeable claws.  He wore a well-worn leather jacket that held the lingering scent of Dust that he’d hoped would stay in his nightmares.  

And his teeth, they were jagged and pointed, one of them having been knocked clean out at one point to be replaced with a false, gold one.  The bone around the area was still cracked, and Sans hoped that was from the fall rather than being a lingering injury - it wouldn’t scar like that unless it’d had to heal the natural way.  The long and painful way.  

It...hurt, to see someone, anyone, this...worn down.  And yet...he couldn’t ignore that LV.  There was no way anyone got that amount of EXP just by defending themselves.  And yet, his alternate hadn’t attacked him.  Actually, no one had been attacked.  It would’ve been on the news.  And, if he was correct in thinking that this was the suspicious ‘doppelganger’ that’d gotten him thrown in jail for three days for missing curfew too many times, he’d clearly been here for months already.  But where?

Then he realized.  The pawn broker had taunted him about smelling like a dumpster.  He’d...he’d been on the streets for months.  Had resorted to petty thievery to survive.   Was literally starving to dust because of some kind of...magical incompatibility?  Sans jumped when the skeleton in front of him groaned.

“hey, don’t move too much.  you passed out.”  He said, his tone as gentle as possible.  It didn’t stop the doppelganger from jolting and struggling to scoot away from him, staring at him and at his surroundings in confusion.  In complete terror.  

“it’s okay.  you’re okay.”  Sans assured him, and his Other focused on him for a moment before slumping in exhaustion.  Sans noticed his eyelights, the normal ones, were red instead of white.  Maybe another result of his LV twisting his magic?   He certainly recalled Frisk’s eyes having a crimson glint in the bad timelines...

“...ugh.  well, ‘m still alive, so...i’m guessin’ yer not gonna kill me.”  His alternate whispered, his voice hardly audible.  Sans looked heartbroken.  

“no, i’m not going to kill you.  also, what the heck kind of accent is that?”   He asked, genuinely curious.  Maybe he could make light of this situation, kind of put him at ease.  The doppelganger snorted.

“...picked it up off mobster movies, to sound intimidating.  it, uh, kinda stuck.”  He replied quietly, and Sans was surprised to hear just how similar they sounded when his Other got rid of the accent.  Similar, but different enough.

“whoa, that’s...so weird.  to hear you talk in my voice.”  He commented.  

“that’s my voice, you asshole.”  And the accent was back.  Along with the anger.  

Sans shook his head.  “stars, are you what i would’ve sounded like if Paps hadn’t forced the swear jar on me?”  

His Other stared at him in shock, and after a moment he realized it was because he’d mentioned Papyrus.  “do...do you have a Papyrus?”  The doppelganger’s eyelights went out, and he started to shake a little.  Sans backpedaled, holding his hands up in apology.  “hey, s-sorry i mentioned--”

“yeah.  yeah i do.”  His alternate choked on the words.  “i...i was hopin’ to avoid yours.  i miss paps so much.  he’s still...back home.”  

“...oh.  i’m sorry.  i can’t imagine...”

His alternate let out a shuddering sigh.  “it - it’s fine.  he probably doesn’t even care that i’m gone.  probably thinks i’m dust.  he’s better off.”

Whoa.  Hearing that shook Sans to his very soul.  It just sounded so wrong, Papyrus would never just...not care.  About him.  They were brothers.  “that’s not - stop.  don’t think like that, i’m sure he’s worried about you.”  Sans tried to assure him, and his alternate just gave him an empty laugh.

“that’s a nice thought, princess.  i dunno what yer paps is like, but sounds like he’s a lot better than mine...”

“that’s not what i meant, your brother can’t be that--”

“SANS!”  Papyrus ran towards them, before skidding to a stop at the sight of the other skeleton.  “WHAT...SANS, WHAT HAPPENED??”

“it’s...a long story, bro.  just help me get him home, he’s hurt pretty bad.”  Sans said, getting to his feet.  His doppelganger didn’t even try to fight him when he looped an arm around him, he was too busy staring at Papyrus.  

Papyrus shook himself out of his shock to help Sans lift the stranger.  “WHY ARE THEY INJURED??  AND...A SKELETON?”  He asked.  Sans ignored him to wheeze at the effort it took to lift his doppelganger.  

“oof, why the fuck are you so heavy?” He asked, only to wince when Paps glared at him.  “LANGUAGE, SANS!  ...HE IS ODDLY HEAVY FOR A SKELETON.”

“oh for fucks sake, let go of me you absolute fuckin’ weenies.”  Sans’ alternate snarled, and the brothers jumped back in shock.

It took some effort, especially with his injured arm and barely being able to stand, but the doppelganger finally managed to shrug off his jacket.  It landed on the pavement with a disconcertingly heavy ‘thud’, and the brothers looked between the jacket and it’s owner for a few moments before Papyrus reached out to grab Sans’ other before he toppled over again.

“what the heck is that thing lined with, concrete?”  Sans asked incredulously.  

“special metalized-polymer i developed back in my lab days.  stronger than concrete but heavy as shit.”  The doppelganger panted slightly, before yelping when Papyrus picked him up bridal style, his face flushed faintly with red magic.  He seemed so much...smaller without the jacket, too.  More similar to himself.

“WOWIE!  THAT WAS CERTAINLY WHY YOU WERE SO HEAVY, YOU HARDLY WEIGH ANYTHING WITHOUT IT!!”  Papyrus chimed, before heading towards the car.  

Sans looked back at the jacket for brief moment, before turning to follow.  

“you better not leave my fuckin’ jacket back there you dick!”  “LANGUAGE!”

Flinching, Sans rolled his eye lights and retrieved his Other’s coat.  It must’ve weighed 100 pounds, at least.  Thankfully, Paps had the trunk open and he wasted no time hefting the stupid thing into it.  Panting, he headed towards the passenger seat before he noticed his brother shaking his head and pointing to the back.  

“i can’t sit back there, the uh...our friend is back there.”   He said through the door.  

“BECAUSE HE IS INJURED, I DON’T WANT HIM TO ACCIDENTALLY ROLL OFF AND HARM HIMSELF FURTHER.”  

“sooo...?”

“SANS, JUST SIT BACK THERE AND HOLD ONTO HIM, PLEASE.  YOU SAID IT IS URGENT THAT WE GET HIM HOME AND, WELL...”  Papyrus fidgeted shyly.  

“ah, right.”  Paps was...well, to call him a hazard behind the wheel was a understatement.  Sans opened the door to find himself being glared at by his flustered alternate.  “heh...hehe, you’re lookin’ a little red there, bud.”

“shut the fuck up and get in before i die in your brother’s car.”

“PLEASE DO NOT DIE IN MY CAR.  OR ANYWHERE ELSE FOR THAT MATTER.”  Papyrus tensed, upset.  

Sans shoved his alternate further into the car so he could sit and put on his seatbelt.  His other elbowed him in the knee, before scooting back so his skull was resting on Sans’ leg slightly.  Sans raised a brow bone at him curiously.  “...w...what are you doing?”

“makin’ sure i can bite you in the dick if you let me fall on the floor.”  

Sans tensed, his look shifting to one of horror.  “wh - i don’t even have it - what the actual fuck is wrong with you??”  

“LANGUAGE, SANS!  AND DO NOT BITE ANYONE, Uh.”

“...let’s just call him Red, bro.”  

“that’s not my name.”  

“do you wanna tell him your name?  be my guest.”

“...name’s Red.”

“HELLO RED!  PLEASE REFRAIN FROM ACTUALLY BITING ANYONE, ESPECIALLY IN...INAPPROPRIATE PLACES.  LIKE MY CAR.”  

Sans’ doppelganger, now dubbed Red, broke out into wheezy laughter at Papyrus’ statement, before whispering “oh my god, creampuff, he’s precious.”

“Paps can you please just drive?  now??”  Sans hissed, his face dusted with blue.

[fae-fucker]

Shatter Me: Chapter 10-11

Chapter 10

Last time we were in this heck hole of a book, Adam had been revealed to be a soldier and we were introduced to Warner Bros., the resident sexy bad boy who has offered Juliette a job as his personal weapon. 

Adam leads Juliette through some hallways and she’s like totally hot for him still.

I feel him shift in the darkness and soon his body is too close so disarmingly close to mine. His hand is on my lower back and he’s guiding me through the corridors toward an unknown destination. Every inch of my skin is blushing. I have to hold myself upright to keep from falling backward into his arms.

“I’m 100% convinced this man wants to kill me but hotdamn I’d still tap that.”

I can’t even start explaining how much sense this all just makes, you know?

I’m painfully excited but I haven’t felt natural light on my skin in so long I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.

This is why people hate first person narration. Fucking look at this garbage.

The air hits me first.

It’s my phantom fist.

Juliette is in awe of all the outside that she’s feeling right now before Adam stuffs her into a tank. A TANK. She also mentions soldiers looking at them and I have to wonder what kind of facility this actually is.

They drive off and Juliette angsts about how shitty everything is and how the world is dead. We also get more information -- if you can call it that -- about how the Reestablishment came into power and became the Establishment, if you will.

I remember there were rules. No more dangerous imaginations, no more prescription medications. A new generation comprised of only healthy individuals would sustain us. The sick must be locked away. The old must be discarded. The troubled must be given up to the asylums. Only the strong should survive.

Ok, so this sounds like good ole fascism right there, so this could theoretically be a thing (because it kind of is right now). It’s got that proper us-vs-them mentality that’s at the core of most authoritarian governments. But then Tahereh gets greedy:

No more stupid languages and stupid stories and stupid paintings placed above stupid mantels. No more Christmas, no more Hanukkah, no more Ramadan and Diwali. No talk of religion, of belief, of personal convictions. Personal convictions were what nearly killed us all, is what they said.

This is just dumb. People in power often use religion to justify their toxic views, and I’m having a hard time seeing humanity (which has gone to war over religion over and over again) giving up all of their religions just because some dingdongs claimed it would help.

Now, I’m not shitting on religious people here, I’m just stating the facts that I do not see humanity accepting this new hardcore atheist government that says that being a person with beliefs and convictions is bad.

Usually dictatorships and authoritarian governments are based on an us-vs-them mentality. The people in power pick a target that they label as “other” and create propaganda to “unite” the people against a common “threat”. “Our” group is presented as strong, righteous, and good to reinforce the love for their own group while strengthening the hate for the “other”.

Forcing the population to war against ... itself? Convincing a population that they’re all terrible to the point where they’ll all just go “yeah I guess we are, please control us”? I don’t see it. Many YA dystopias are based on this idea and I honestly don’t see how this could ever work. 

A potential leader telling you that you’re the best, better than that guy over there, let’s go kill him? That clearly works on a population. A potential leader telling you that you suck and that you should give them the power over you so they can fix you? That’s suspicious as fuck. This sounds more like a cult than a government, and sure, cult tactics do work, but cults target very specific individuals that they slowly groom into accepting their views, and they’re often small as a result of this and the fact that they isolate their members from society. Doing this to a whole population? Nah.

I think this kind of is a side-effect of YA authors being afraid of taking a side? You don’t wanna write about a nasty white dude taking power and making everyone believe that everyone other than a white dude is a piece of dirt because that might upset the white dudes, so you just kind of write governments that are weirdly diverse but are “evil” because they hate ... humanity in general? And we’re all humans, so clearly we’ll think they’re evil! Easy! 

This is also why YA dystopias often create worlds that are super hardcore and oppressive, but conveniently never racist or misogynistic or homophobic, so they’re somehow more advanced than we are when it comes to equality but also more barbaric. *insert I’m not [thing], I hate everyone equally joke here*

And I get it. Writing about real-life oppression mirrored in a fake world is hard and icky and uncomfortable. But if you’ve set out to write a proper dystopia and you end up with this, you do kind of cheapen it all by making your dark-haired white girl oppressed because of her cool superpower/rebel spirit while the government is made up of a diverse cast of bad guys who are all bad because the narrative said so.

I think I went off on a tangent. What I’m trying to say is: people take elements from 1984 even though the parts they take from it don’t make any dingdang sense in the context of their worlds.

Anyway, Juliette tells us that there is, in fact, an underground rebel movement that’s waiting for the right moment to strike. I don’t know how she knows that and I don’t know why they’re waiting, but whatever.

We pull up to a structure 10 times larger than the asylum and suspiciously central to civilization. From the outside it looks like a bland building, inconspicuous in every way but its size, gray steel slabs comprising 4 flat walls, windows cracked and slammed into the 15 stories. It’s bleak and bears no marking, no insignia, no proof of its true identity. 

Political headquarters camouflaged among the masses.

How bad is this camouflage that Juliette, who presumably has never been inside, is able to figure out what it is? I can’t accept the idea that she’s supposed to be super insightful, for obvious reasons. 

Chapter 11

Dirty money is dripping from the walls, a year’s supply of food wasted on marble floors, hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical aid poured into fancy furniture and Persian rugs. I feel the artificial heat pouring in through air vents and think of children screaming for clean water. I squint through crystal chandeliers and hear mothers begging for mercy. I see a superficial world existing in the midst of a terrorizing reality and I can’t move.

[...]

They filled our world with weapons aimed at our foreheads and smiled as they shot 16 candles right through our future. They killed those strong enough to fight back and locked up the freaks who failed to live up to their utopian expectations.

Ok so um. I see the point you’re trying to make here and I agree that rich people are the devil and that we should eat them, but in this world that you’ve created, this kind of makes no sense.

How ... How exactly are they “stealing” or “wasting” money if they’re in charge of the economy and the production of everything? Who exactly are they stealing from if they’ve murdered most of the population anyway? Are they paying people to have those Persian rugs made? Isn’t it more logical to assume they’ve just taken stuff that has already existed, since nobody else was using it? 

Like, you have real-life examples of how politicians and corporations get rich, and this ... this isn’t one of those ways. You don’t blast a population to death and then start producing wealth out of nowhere. New wealth doesn’t just magically appear once you’ve stolen “everything” from the population.

You know for someone who was complaining about how evil the eestablishment are for taking away art and fancy things, she sure doesn’t want any of this art or fancy things. The Reestablishment was also established (hueh) to promote a “simple” lifestyle, and yeah, usually dictatorships do that to the population while they live like kings, but Juliette hasn’t noted this hypocrisy yet, she’s just cringing at the fancy things so far.

Let’s hope she does.

Whatever. Juliette is all disgusted with the luxury around her and sees blood all over (See because she thinks people have been sacrificed to Big Corporate for all this fancy stuff. It’s poetic you see because poor people have uuuuh died for all this stuff and all that.), so much so that she has a breakdown.

I’m in the air. I’m a bag of feathers in [Adam’s] arms and he’s breaking through soldiers crowding around for a glimpse of the commotion and for a moment I don’t want to care that I shouldn’t want this so much. I want to forget that I’m supposed to hate him, that he betrayed me, that he’s working for the same people who are trying to destroy the very little that’s left of humanity and my face is buried in the soft material of his shirt and my cheek is pressed against his chest and he smells like strength and courage and the world drowning in rain. I don’t want him to ever ever ever ever let go of my body. I wish I could touch his skin, I wish there were no barriers between us.

Ok so first you get all upset over how these guys are evil for having all this stuff, and the next second you’re creaming yourself about how you totally wanna bang this dude you don’t know and who you’re convinced wants to kill or otherwise hurt you?

Makes that whole previous freakout seem a bit cheap now, dontcha think?

Juliette begs Adam to kill her because she just can’t handle how horny she is for him how rich and evil these people are, but he’s like naw dawg, can’t kill the protagonist in a trilogy this early. 

Adam takes her to a room and Juliette complains about how pretty and luxurious it is.

Listen. I don’t care how strong her ess-joo spirit is. Girl has been locked up in a cell all alone for 200+ days. Justice for the poor should be at the very back of her head, not her main concern. She should be shitting herself with joy right now.

“Please don’t let go of me put me down,” I tell him.

Tahereh ... sweetie. You can’t do this in dialogue. That’s not ... that’s not how anything works. Did she actually say this and then quickly correct herself? I should be enchanted by this riveting dialogue, not be taken out of the experience trying to figure out if this girl has two voices like she’s possessed by Pazuzu.

Juliette asks Adam to leave her alone, which he says isn’t an option, since Warner Bros. considers her a threat and has thus decided that Adam must watch her at all times. Which means he’ll be moving in.

Yikes. I know it’s all a (rather fanfiction-y) setup for their “romance”, but still, how creepy and uncomfortable is that?

I want to hate him and judge him and scream forever but I’m failing because all I see is an 8-year-old boy who doesn’t remember that he used to be the kindest person I ever knew.

Yeah, can’t wait until he’s suddenly written to be super evil so Warner Bros. can swoop in and save you. 

And, really? “I know he’ll be invading my privacy for who knows how long and I’m pretty sure he wants me harm or at least wouldn’t mind inflicting it if ordered, but he was a nice kid back in school, so I can’t bring myself to hate him!” Great.

Adam tells her that she has to change into less icky clothes and says that there’s a bathroom. 

I see a door connected to the room and I’m suddenly curious. I’ve heard stories about people with bathrooms in their bedrooms. I guess they’re not exactly in the bedroom, but they’re close enough.

1) This narration is completely OOC for Juliette, and also really dumb.

2) So we went from “fuck all this rich people crap!!” to “ooh, my own bathroom? sweet!!” Consistency who?

 Adam says that there are no cameras in the bathroom, which means that there are cameras in the bedroom. Juliette is only mildly concerned with this.

Adam says that Warner Bros. will be expecting her for dinner, and then goes to show her how the stuff in the bathroom works. 

He then acts a bit weird, looking around and putting his finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet, and Juliette assumes he’s about to rape her and wishes she could kill herself.

He of course isn’t and leaves when he realizes why she’s freaking out.

So uh. This suddenly got dark. 

[eternaleve]

So, if you’ve had a look at my update post, I’ve not been doing much of anything lately. I’m house-bound currently because my health has been absolutely terrible as of late. My life’s on hold yet again which is very annoying because I’ve felt like it’s been on hold since university. That’s four years ago now where my luck has been terrible. Maybe’s it’s Anita Blake cursing me.

Anyway, if you know me, you’ll know that history is my thing. In fact, it’s Tudor history. I specialised in the politics of the Henrican court and I like to sharpen my brain box from time to time.

And this little show is currently up in its entirety on Netflix.

  It’s rated an 8.1 on imDB and was nominated for Golden Globe awards. It was presented as being an intimate sort of revelation of the great secrets of Henry VIII’s court, the great men and great women of his life.

And this show makes me rage as only a historian can rage. This show is a burning bag of garbage that makes me incredibly angry. Not only in terms of really bad writing choices but really terrible clothing. And that there are people who made genuine efforts to try and make this accurate and include incredibly minor details of court – only for it to be absolute rubbish.

And I’m here to pour water on this burning bag of garbage. Or another, better metaphor.

Let’s throw ourselves into ‘In Cold Blood’. Our official synopsis is ‘King Henry VIII, the young and ambitious monarch of England, prepares for war with France but is dissuaded by the diplomatic manipulation of his powerful Lord Chancellor, Cardinal Wolsey, who proposes that the King sponsor a “Treaty of Universal Peace.” The harmony of the King’s domestic affairs is threatened, however, when he discovers that Elizabeth Blount, the young and beautiful lady-in-waiting to his Queen, Katherine of Aragon, is pregnant with his child.’

That’s a lot of information for one episode and it really rattles through the stuff that people all commonly associate with the Tudors. It is also really badly written. Let’s begin.

A Nonsense Beginning

The episode doesn’t really start off too well. We’re heading straight to an Italian palace (even though ‘Italy’ as a specific location did not exist in the sixteenth century) and this is not a sixteenth century palace. This is really not. This is neo-classical in the most blatant style.

This is a sixteenth century Italian palace. Much more ornate and decorative.

Sean Pertwee gets out of a carriage and his costume is wrong in so many ways. English fashion in the sixteenth century is known for its many layers, the wide silhouette, and the use of slashing to display fabrics. Sean Pertwee’s style is very reminiscent of gentlemen at the court of Elizabeth I; slim and narrow, a style that has become highly feminised. These are not the clothes of a man from the later half of the sixteenth century, not from the beginning.

The men he’s travelling to meet are much more appropriately dressed – highly decorated doublets with long overgowns. Plus hats. You’d never be out in public without a hat at this point in time. And hello baby Aiden Turner. You’re going to be in one of my favourite TV shows of all time, and then be in Poldark with its really awful rape scene. Ups and downs there.

Anyway, Sean Pertwee gets brutally taken out by the French.

This confuses me greatly. It makes for an incredibly dramatic opening, that’s for sure, and sets up that England hates the French and that is mutual. There’s animosity between the two countries which is only news if you are not European. However, early modern politics was not a brutal affair. Well, all the time. There was that time that the Dutch cannibalised someone and people were thrown out of windows in Prague, but an English ambassador would not be stabbed to death by the French in public this way. It would be incredibly stupid because it would only cause war.

This also throws up many questions to me in terms of history. When is this meant to be set? There were varying times of war and peace between England and France, and a specific year is never given in this episode. This episode swings between 1514 and 1520, and six years is a long time in politics.

And there’s the issue that Sean Pertwee is supposed to be Henry VIII’s uncle.

Right. Okay. There’s a writing choice I can simply not get my head around. Henry VIII didn’t have any uncles, and giving him one doesn’t inform his fictional character or explain what happens. It makes no logical sense – his father was an only child and if Henry VIII’s mother had surviving brothers… then they would be king. Because her father, Edward IV would have passed the throne to them.

The Poor Choices of Henry VIII

The big selling point of this show was that it’s YOUNG Henry VIII. It’s Henry as you’ve never seen him before! He’s young, he’s sexy, he’s active, and not fat and gross. In pursuit of this, the writers made a huge mistake. They made him brash, rude, and frankly abusive to Katherine. He’s a slobbering mess in this first episode, and his characterisation is all over the place.

And his clothing is fucking terrible.

Our first introduction to Henry is that he’s dressed like an acrobat. There is nothing right with his clothing. Compare him to this image of a English man from the early part of the sixteenth century (it’s later than VAGUE 1514 TO 1520 VAGUE YEAR but at least it’s English).

English fashion is bulky and layered. There’s no way Henry would not have an overgown and his clothes are just too slim. And that crown looks like ass.

I like that Henry has the most Catholic underclothes it is possible to get. I don’t like the metallic popper buttons. Buttons were not especially widespread in clothing, with most items being tied or fitted to the body. Henry VIII did not have child-friendly popper boxer shorts with Catholic detailing.

Henry is wearing only the most fashionable in cheap and common leathers! This looks like foot soldier armour. It is not anything a nobleman in Tudor England would wear. Also Katherine’s dress is terrible, but I’ll be going into the women’s fashion in a bit.

Henry VIII is FLORAL SOFA MAN!

Who doesn’t want to do physical exercise in a full suit of leather?

Love that fisherman jumper, Henners.

Throughout this episode, Jonathan Rhys Meyer makes just the weirdest choices for his performance. Ignoring the fact that he is blatantly wrong for this role, he just does weird stuff. He’s loud and obnoxious and plays Henry as a complete idiot. And the episode ends on this image. Just Henry, his pathetic little beard, staring madly at you. Thanks, director. I needed that.

A Decorated Skirt Does Not A Period Costume Make.

I get it. Tudor women’s fashion does not appear sexy to modern audiences. You have to balance out the ‘sexy’ lead and make the women appear sexy. They do this by making the worst attempt at Tudor costumes for women I’ve ever seen.

The first female character we see is in The Corridor (c) that we see consistently over the first season. They show the vast wealth and grandness of the palace of White Hall with the same terrible brick background over and over.

For a start, her waist is too high. English fashions are conical at this time, with hemlines square and farthingales round like an ice cream cone. Her hair is also loose under what appears to be a piece of lace.

‘I have a necklace in my hair for no apparent reason. Also my hair is loose, which no grown woman at the English court would ever have. Because my hair would be really fucking long and I don’t want lice.’

Katherine of Aragon, an incredibly proud and proper queen, is just lazing around with her hair loose and a nightgown. For the record, here’s Katherine at this time –

Gable hoods and trumpet sleeves. They may not be sexy but they were at the time.

I don’t know I don’t even. This screams 17th Dutch more than anything else with the huge white collar and huge great big stomacher. This is especially egregious as this is Thomas More’s wife and there’s an incredibly famous portrait of her. She should have a hood on, great big trumpet sleeves, and no huge white weird collar that is attached to her dress and not the shirt underneath which appears to also be a dress.

This dress has some huge great big puffy sleeves are are hideous. They also don’t come into English fashion for another fifteen years. The attempt at a French hood is also… weird. For a start, they’re not around at the English court from this point for about ten or so years (depending on whatever vague year this is), and what the hell? What is with all this loose hair? She’s got beautiful flowing locks that do not work with a French hood.

That’s how a French hood works. Your hair is covered because all women pretty much had their hair covered in public at this point in time and you don’t want nits. Long loose flowing hair? THAT’S HOW YOU GET NITS.

I don’t even with this. Not only is her dress terrible, with an overgown that wouldn’t be introduced to the 1550s, but what is even with that headdress? What is it meant to be? You can’t just glue fake pearls to something and call it a headdress.

So, left dress: fine, I guess, as a common gown for when you’re at home not seeing anyone. I don’t like the bustle thing at the back. It could be a bumroll, but her skirtline would be much higher and if you’re relaxed at home without a farthingale, why would you have a bumroll?

Right dress; whaaaaaattttt. That’s very Italian. The lose, low sleeves are continental and the bust line, shoulders, and curled hair make me think of Stuart/Restoration fashion, not 1510s/1520s. And that’s not even getting into whatever the bodice is. It’s a bodice for a dress, not a front-opening bra.

Everyone’s Evil Henny

Fashion aside, the point of this episode is that Henry is stupid and everyone around him is evil. No matter where he goes, from fucking (there are far more sex scenes in this episode than necessary), to playing tennis, or to the daily joust, there is someone being evil and making use of how lazy and stupid Henry is to get across their evil doing. FYI, Henry VIII was an incredibly intelligent and busy man. He did not just spend his time at the apparently daily joust.

The Duke of Buckingham is evil and planning a rebellion. He also actually looks like Henry VIII and did not launch open rebellion in real life. He wears all black throughout the show so we know he’s definitely evil.

Cardinal Wolsey is also evil because he wants peace (boo!) and is pro-French (boo!). He’s conducting what appears to be the Treaty of London, but that was 1518 and there’s stuff that takes place in varying years. Pick a date, guys. Pick a date and stick to it. He beats a guy up. It’s weird.

Thomas Boleyn is introduced and because he’s actually wearing the right clothing out of all the characters, you can tell he’s evil. Because, yeah, I love that cheap idea that terrible fiction authors peddle that the Boleyns were evil schemers working their way to the top that flies in the face of just about all knowledge of political power in the period.

Random Oddness

Why is there straw just thrown around this floor? I saw extras struggling and just kicking it into the air. It’s weird. This is the grandest palace in England. I have no idea why there’s straw everywhere.

Look at Henry mangle this pomegranate. For symbolism. And because he’s a big gross child.

Unpicking the Tudors; S1 EP1 So, if you've had a look at my update post, I've not been doing much of anything lately.

[arplis]

Arplis - News: There is no room that I apologize for more than this one

And while I know we are all done apologizing, I physically can’t help it because I’m TRULY regretful that I can’t seem to figure this one out. When new people walk in I immediately distract them to the left, into the living room with a ‘nothing to see over there!’ vibe. It’s gotten better, thank god so today you are going to see where we are at now, and how I’m stuck and another epic DIY fail. When I started this playroom, the kids were 2 and 4. They are now 3 1/2 and 5 1/2 and if I don’t start speeding this up I will have two tweens no longer interested in playing ‘horsies’ or ‘inventor’. But I was distracted by the mountain house and at such a loss of what to do here that I just couldn’t. Here’s where we started: BEFORE: When we bought the house, it looked like the above photo. Sure, easy enough. It would be the playroom, er, TV room, er both… But I’d make it cozy…paint it really dark, not realizing that it would chop up the house so much and make it feel so much smaller. That was makeshift, obviously, with leftover furniture, not actually designed, but you get the idea. So we painted it light and got a sofa that was better scale for the space, but it was still a TV room with some toy storage in the back. (The sofa now lives in the apartment of our last Feel Good Flash Makeover. But then we realized that the kids really needed a playroom, a space just for them. We nixed the sofa and TV and brought in a bunch of toy storage. We made the same mistake that a lot of new parents make—too many toys, not enough that they actually play with or engage with for a long time. Bins of balls, action heroes and garbage that they pull out all day every day but they don’t really engage with. They liked the play kitchen, but the rest was mostly for other kids to be enamored with, not them. As much as I begged them to play dollhouse with me, they weren’t old enough. Even that adorable workbench that we got for them for Christmas sat totally untouched unless we did it with them. What they love are two things: arts and crafts and building things (think Legos). THE CHALLENGES: It’s a long skinny room that needs to function as the playroom (for now) but you see it IMMEDIATELY when you walk in. I actually wanted to put in some glass doors and somehow figure out how to decrease its importance and give it its own space (because someday it would be a great home office) but Brian wasn’t on board as he thought it would break up the space too much and make it feel smaller (it would). It has an architectural break in the wall, almost creating two different spaces, but it’s awkward. You can see it from many rooms on the first floor so it can’t scream TOYS and instead, should look pulled together. You know, as if an actual designer lives here, but I still want it to be playful and fun, you know, as if it’s an actual playroom. Additionally, the lighting felt too big. It doesn’t look like it in the photos, but I just wanted to simplify it a bit. After trying a million different layouts, I drew inspiration from, well, our preschool and had the idea that maybe where the wall juts out should be its own “room,” with cubby dividers creating walls and a sense of privacy for them. Not because they need privacy, but because creating zones seems like what little kids like, and areas where they can imagine and play felt right for their age. I was right and this was a huge hit with them. The good news: MURAL: I love that mural so much. I ordered it from Rebel Walls and you can size it exactly to your wall so it fits perfectly. And yes, we put it over the plaster wall because we didn’t want to skim coat over the original pretty plaster as we knew that someday we would likely remove it and then we’d have one flat wall. We customized the color to be a nice muted navy blue and white. It’s graphic yet exciting, as it’s not too busy and it’s playful in an old-world way (matching our 100-year-old English Tudor). LIGHTING: I switched out the lighting so that the sconces matched the living room (we stole two from the living room over the bookshelves and instead put in horizontal art lights—I’ll show you soon). They project less into the room but still provide nice lighting (the house has no can lighting and we didn’t put any in except for in the kitchen and bathrooms during the remodel). We switched out the ceiling fixture to be glass (from Rejuvenation) so it took up less visual space. It is raw brass so it will age really nicely. I love them both. RUG: The round rug really helps that space feel brighter and more playful. Obviously a round white rug in a playroom seems a bit nuts, so I bought an inexpensive one in hopes that if it only lasts for a couple of years, I’m at least not wasting too much money. The other options we considered are a darker round rug (which might have been a better choice long-term) or using Flor tiles. But out of desperation on a Saturday morning, I pressed “purchase” and you know what? It’s been TWO months and it still looks this white. It’s cheap, 100% polyester or rayon and for some reason, maybe that it’s such a high pile, it hasn’t stained at all. I came up with a genius rule that there are not paints in the craft room, which they don’t miss (remember we can play/paint year-round outside in LA) so it’s actually GREAT. ART TABLE: I bought the table a year ago and put on the taller legs that came with it so it’s a great height for them (and us) to sit at. I used Target stools that come with a different table that was too small, but we had leftover from another project. I wish they sold them on their own. Elliot sits here for HOURS a day. She spends more time drawing than I ever knew a child could. It’s amazing. BOOKCASES: I used that architectural break to divide the room with bookcases. They each take a side. On Charlie’s, he has his Legos (the kid is SUPER into Legos, guys) and he displays them on the top shelf. Birdie has a ton of beads, treasure boxes, princess crowns and horses. I already had these Pillowfort bookcases/cubbies from Target that were functional and great but the back of them had a wood/white detail that was too busy to be seen from the back. So here were our options: Make it look more “built-in” and cover it with with the same white as the molding and even add trim pieces like a baseboard and a trim piece against the wall to make it look “built-in.” That is a lot of work though for two pieces of furniture that are definitely NOT built-in. Make the back of the shelves functional (as in create some sort of feature for them). The Pottery Barn shelving (from the “befores”) is now upstairs in their room (not all of it—some is in storage). After thinking about it for a while, we realized that we would be spending way too much time/money trying to make a piece of furniture look built-in. If it were something we could do ourselves (Brian and I), that would be different but paying someone (our handy PA, Shade) to do it could take hours and add up to hundreds. So instead, we had this idea that we would put a pegboard on the back that could be a few different interactive things, such as: Rubberband art: images: left via instructables | right via kara paslay designs Marble run or tubes that you snake around the pegs: images: left via frugal fun 4 boys | right via frugal fun 4 boys You can use cardboard tubes like they did on the left, or really bendable tubes, or PVC pipes like they did on the right. We do need more art storage for more maker supplies so we also thought that one of them could be styled out more like this: image via cup of jo This is where it all started going/rolling downhill. Because we are perfectionists, we felt that we couldn’t use something readymade. WE don’t just buy pegboard, no, and certainly not a system from IKEA that would, well, create the most perfect and functional art wall. NO, we have far too much time and money to waste to do a simple solution! Instead, Shade would buy some plywood, cut it perfectly to size and drill each hole INDIVIDUALLY, then attach it to the back of the shelves (after bolting them together).  Sounds easy, but this did, of course, take time and time is money. I think he spent a day and a half on it, which is about $350 in labor (not including materials). We ordered some marble run stuff and attached the pegs to them so they could move it around and create their own creation. The problem is by customizing our own holes, it fits no art system because they aren’t spaced apart in a standard way. I’ll remind you what it looks like: We found these raw wood marble run pieces and glued pegs into them, with the hope that they can be rearranged on the peg wall and be an interactive game that our kids will spend hours quietly playing with. The kids came home that first day, got excited then realized that they are VERY hard to take in and out and went back to Legos and art. Even when I sat down to do it, I got frustrated. It could be that they are too young, but it’s frankly just more annoying and the payoff (a marble rolling) isn’t worth their frustration. Admittedly, it does look fun, but for whatever reason, they don’t like it. It’s kinda hard and again the payoff isn’t worth it. Around the same time, we bought an art system for the play attic at the mountain house that was awesome (update on that space with photos coming soon). I then realized that we had gone through all this trouble to create a custom system that already exists readymade and affordable, only better and more functional! It would be like spending months designing a chair that already exists. Cool. Sure, it’s white and plastic and ours is raw wood and pretty, but I actually think that white would work better in here anyway. Why didn’t we just do this in the first place? Honestly, because I haven’t been to IKEA in years and didn’t know it existed. I was hasty. Too busy to research. Preferring instead to spend time and money customizing something that doesn’t work. Additionally, after ours was done, I thought we couldn’t find pegs that really fit easily because the ones that we bought for the marble runs were too big and tight. Then last week, I decided to, you know, measure the holes. From there, I Googled pegs that size, ordered them and boom. The morning of the shoot, I set up the rubber band activity and it looked cute. I couldn’t find rubberbands so I used Birdie’s hairtyes to show you the function. PLOT TWIST: When the kids came home from school on Thursday (when we shot this), they started playing with the rubberband wall and proceeded to play for a while (I’d say around 25 minutes which is a long engagement time for a 3 and 5-year-old). Birdie wanted rubber bands on her side so we took out the marble run and they put the pegs in where they wanted them, moved them around and made patterns, letters and shapes with the hair ties. We then found our actual rubber bands, started playing with those and guess what? It’s a really fun guitar wall and they played with that for a while. So now I’m thinking that maybe it wasn’t an epic DIY fail but only time will tell. Part of me wants to fill the holes and paint it white and then attach the art organization system I mentioned we already have at the mountain house. I did, however, buy them a cart full of garbage to play with in the meantime. We call it the “makers cart” or the “inventor cart.” It’s full of recyclables (plastic containers, cans, paper towel rolls, newspaper), different tapes (I need to buy stock in 3M or Scotch because the amount of tape we buy for them to make things is INSANE), magnets, screws/bolts/brackets, strings, pipe cleaners, etc. Hell, we put all takeout materials in there—chopsticks, plastic forks, etc… Like I said, LITERAL GARBAGE, but it makes us feel way less bad if they at least get some creativity out of that waste. Charlie LOVES it. Birdie is much more into art and coloring, but Charlie loves inventing things and our neighbor (my best friend’s son) tortures her with bringing home his “inventions” daily (riddling her house with our garbage). So there’s one success. I also LOVE this art wall. Like nothing makes me happier than when they finish something and ask me if they can put it on the wall (not sure why they ask). So the next challenge is making a big bulletin board that is actually pretty. Here are my ideas: Put it in an interesting shape, like a house. Have it lean or start on the floor so that they can reach and add their own finished pieces. Use masonite (a soft composite) and cover in a fabric (likely a pretty linen or maybe a subtle pattern). Mount a thick roll of cork to plywood then paint it a color or white. Frame or trim it out with thin wood. Like so: image via live loud girl I’ve tried to think about different shapes that make sense, to try to reinvent this but I haven’t come up with something that would be easy to execute that makes sense for art. I love the graphicness of the house, and remember that we have a big moment, the mural on the opposite side of the room. Okay. This room also needs to kinda function as the kids mud-room. So we brought in that bench that has great storage, but also provides a great drop place for the kids’ bags and shoes, as if they put them there, EVER. HA. They are getting better, but the first week of school they dropped them within inches of the door, on the floor. The drawers right now hold more art supplies and paper, but will be great for either shoes or homework stuff later. We had it at the foot of our bed for a while (which we loved) but we needed it down here more. I was going to get a bigger mirror, possibly pill-shaped because its 2019 and evidently we DON’T do rectangles in 2019, but then I found this vintage Thonet mirror at a thrift store near the mountain house and couldn’t not buy it (I think it was like $45) and so one day I put it up on an already existing nail and realized that I actually might love it here. Side note: I never bought or installed nice grate covers. I meant to. I have had it on my list for 2 years now. It’s a long list but above it are things like “raise children” and “stay alive” which are taking more time than I had predicted, so the bottom of the list sits there unchecked. Instead, we have the $3 ones that I feel like you could buy at 7-11. I really need to replace them and will, I promise. (I have a personal assistant now so maybe it will happen before 2025!). Now I need to decide if I want to add hooks for bags and make it look like a proper Pinterest-worthy mudroom or just call it and let them put their bags on the bench because that is more likely to actually happen. So I’d love any and all opinions on what to do in here. I know I want to create a more awesome art wall. I know that Birdie would like easier access to art supplies, but we could just do another cart full of supplies and tools and keep the rubberband art. Also right now she is super into colored pencils because that is what is in front of her, why do I need to add more? Less is more with kids, right? Resources: Toy Cubbies | Table | Stools (similar) | Rug | Bench | Wall Mural | Ceiling Flushmount | Sconces | Supply Cart | Marble Run Set | Play Kitchen ***Update photos by Veronica Crawford The post Our LA Playroom Update With Solutions That Work For Us + Another DIY Fail appeared first on Emily Henderson. #Playroom #Kids #MyHouse

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/there-is-no-room-that-i-apologize-for-more-than-this-one

[waldos-writing]

The Dig Initiative: Chapter 19

I Am Lawrence DuVang

“I found the cream, but I don’t know which one of those containers is sugar,” said Joe at the kitchen counter. He had on a dark suit, his light hair neatly parted to the side. Very clean, very put together. There was a ceramic mug in each hand. “I dunno. You take it with sugar? I feel like you did, but I forgot your last Starbucks order. It’s a lot, boss, you know? Lot to remember.”

The mugs had long trails of steam after them as Joe carefully carried each from the kitchen to the little dinette they used for breakfast. He smiled pleasantly as he set them down on corkboard coasters, cheap little things the family had used when they didn’t care or didn’t need to impress at a dinner party. The curtains were open. A thin morning light strained in through the light fog.

“I don’t think it was sugar. I think it was just the cream. You know what, though? Felicity will tell me. She’s got a lot of that stored away for me. Girl is a godsend, if you know what I mean.”

Joe was freshly showered with a neat shaven face. He looked good; better than he had in a long time, actually. Certainly better than he did when he was driving, but perhaps the uniform and the job made him look a little less, in a way. If anything, he felt good, and it showed. He had a big easy grin as he sat down and took one of the coffee cups in his hands, holding it beneath his nose to enjoy the aroma.

“You can tell me if you use sugar, but, honestly, maybe you want to cut back a little. Maybe you want to drink it black. I like it black, you know, but I had to get it just right. Keeps everyone calm. I go in there, right, and I order a black coffee and some schmuck is going to go ‘Hey! You never take it black! You like it super sweet! Who are you!’ and then the whole thing starts to fall apart.”

As he leaned back in his chair, two of the legs lifting off the ground. Joe hummed and watched the wind pick away at the tiny buds on the trees. Summer couldn’t come fast enough, he usually said. Get the whole gloomy winter months out of the way. But now that it was coming, Joe decided to sit back and enjoy what he had while he had it.

“I don’t mind if it falls apart, if I’m honest, which I am, given all that’s happened. No, you’re right, I wasn’t honest then, but I had to get everything set into place and you were doing such a good job, you know? You put it all into action. You got my people up and running. And Altamira is just churning them out like stamps. Couldn’t be prouder.

“But, now this is a big but, but if everything does decide to go to shit, you know what? I’m ready. Oh it’s been time and a half since I had a good big brawl over something and I’m feeling the itch. You know what that is? You ever been in a fight? Boss?”

Lawrence DuVang sat in the chair across the table, pinned to the armrests by the kitchen knives that were stuck in each hand. He blinked with black-bruised eyes, trying hard not to shift too much in the uncomfortable seat. It did not help that both of his feet were amputated and were resting on the floor beside him like a pair of pink shoes.

It had been over two weeks since he’d come home and taken care of his family. They were rotting away in their rooms while Joe did his work around the house, collecting items he thought were either important or interesting, and taking pieces off Lawrence he felt the same about. Lawrence couldn’t remember what Joe really looked like anymore or when the power shift occured.

One moment he was leaving his bedroom, ready to eat a bullet, and the next Joe was holding him and telling him it was going to be alright, that he would make it better. Sounded so reassuring then until Joe had him locked away in the bathroom and told him it was for his own good. Said he needed to wash and shave and Joe was going to help him. They had stood naked in front of the mirror, Lawrence shaving his face with a shaky hand that moved on its own while Joe did the same. They cut each other’s hair, went over every mole and scar on Lawrence’s body and did quick work to mimic them on the driver. They didn’t match, not enough, and Joe scalped Lawrence’s ear in one swipe, tossing it into the sink without another word. It hurt. Lawrence didn’t scream or flinch, but it hurt. God it hurt. He wanted to slap his head and hold the wound and scream and scream, but he didn’t. Or couldn’t. Still hurt.

It was a kind of hazy list of tasks as they spent the day in that bathroom, a day in the study practicing handwriting, a day in the yard when he thought about running and Joe took away his left foot, a day lying shivering on the couch and screaming and screaming until Joe took away the right one. Joe asked about everything. Everything. How many times he peed in a day, where was his favorite place to eat lunch, what order he put his socks on, did he only pick his nose in the morning or the evening or when he was sitting on the toilet, which app did he like to open when he was bored in the afternoon, which pen he liked best from his desk, how often did he lose his keys, how often did he skip a meal, how often did he masturbate in a day or a week or a month and to what and with or without headphones, what gum did he chew, what gum did he chew when that gum wasn’t available, what gum did he hate, what did he do with the wrappers, what did he do with the rest of his garbage, why didn’t he like to recycle, why didn’t he like to wear sunglasses, how did he like his shoes and when did he buy new ones and how often did he leave a lace untied just because? Joe knew a surprising number of those answers already and when Lawrence didn’t cooperate or match with whatever knowledge Joe had, he’d slice another part of him or kick him to the ground or lock him in his son’s room, his wife’s room, his daughter’s room. When Joe was gone, all the old hurts came back. It was too much. He was fed pieces of his family over the week as Joe smiled. Too much.

“Why?” he croaked, but Joe just pushed another slimy bit of skin and fat into Lawrence’s mouth.

“Oh, it’s been a long, long time since I’ve done anything really hard,” said Joe, smiling across the table. He sipped the coffee without wincing this time. “I’ve had it pretty slick while I was your driver, boss. I had to push you around a little, of course. Hijacked your cognitive what-how every now and again. Dig Initiative. Not even sly, that Felicity. She thought it was funny and sometimes I like to indulge. Because damn if she isn’t the best.”

Lawrence moaned, drooling down his chin. He wanted to vomit, but that seemed like too much effort. Everything was screaming, his skin, his skull, his eyes. His body was fire and he wondered how much longer he could take it.

“A while, boss.” Joe looked him right in the eye, not with that fake easy-going face, but sharp and dangerous and knowing. Lawrence’s heart raced as Joe kept that stare, set down his coffee, and stood up. “I know you. I know you inside and out. I look like you, I dress like you.” Joe dropped his voice, changed it a little and when he spoke, made it sound like it was coming from Lawrence’s mouth. “I talk like you. But I am not you. Not yet.”

“You can’t,” Lawrence muttered, licking his lips. He started to cry again. They were just little tears, almost nothing, but he held his breath anyway. His lip started to shake and then his shoulders and then it tugged at his hands. His legs swung from the chair without feet to steady him against the floor. “You can’t do this.”

“I can do anything, boss,” said Joe. He was back again with the smile and his own voice. He started to come closer, a genial prowl. “You’re in no position to tell me I can’t do anything. Nobody is. You’re just a man. And I’m your god.”

Joe brushed Lawrence’s cheek as he passed, humming again some old used-up song. As he did, he placed a little vial on the table, something he had found buried in Lawrence’s sock drawer. It was empty, but he recognized it, somehow. He remembered little blank moments with his family and when he tucked it away in his pocket before dinner or in a glass of orange juice for his kids.

“What is that?” Lawrence asked, trying hard not to cry anymore, trying to swallow.

“You know,” Joe whispered in his remaining ear. His breath was hot and coffee stained. “I was hoping for an oracle. But we didn’t need the family anyways. One less person I have to lie to when I go out there to take the world.”

Joe dragged his tongue across his lips, slowly, sensually, before he shoved Lawrence into the table. He was unable to catch himself as the chair banged against the wood and tipped to the left. He crashed to the ground.

“Listen, boss.” Joe kicked away one of Lawrence’s detached feet. “This has been fun, you know? Real fun. Brings me back to the first day they finally got it right at Montemille. Premier dieu. I knew I had to become. Always knew it. Obviously there was all that power and I had to survive the trial to evolve and take it. Hey, nothing comes easy. Nothing comes free. And why would we want it to, y’know? And now.”

Joe stomped down on the chair, which shattered under his foot. Lawrence screamed. His arm was fractured but free, so he tried to claw his way out to anywhere, just away, even a few feet, an inch, anything, but it was wasted effort.

“Now I get to put everyone else through it. It’s only fair. I will only play fair, even if I make the rules and I remake the world because nobody else understood that the real Father was already here and ready to take them into his arms. It’s going to be beautiful! You don’t even know yet. It’s going to the greatest day in history. Or…it’s going to be the end of history, and that’ll be great too. And you! Let me tell you why this all….”

Lawrence closed his eyes. He didn’t care about the anger hovering over him. He slipped into the dark, falling further and further from his old body. Drums beat his ears, loud and as comforting as a heartbeat. That too started to slowly drift away. He just needed to fall. It was so easy. Almost below the water, almost free, almost there. It was okay. He smelled a familiar perfume and a slender pale hand stroked his neck. Someone was shouting over him, but it was so far away, so far away, muffled by the distance. It was okay. The woman’s hand gently brushed his cheek. He turned to kiss Elaine.

“God, I missed you,” he said against her. She laughed, beautiful full laughter like he had never heard. His angel. His salvation.

“It’s okay,” she said, brushing his eyes with her thumbs and kissing them closed; one and then the other. It was. It was okay.

Lawrence embraced her and disappeared in the dark.

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