#also the inescapability of it all the divorce that never seems to take hold

[tvlandofficiall]

Very general ask sorry haha but I’d love to hear more about your swatchton (or just swatch) headcanons 👀

SWATCHTON! where do i start with swatchton? (continued under the cut 'cuz this gets LONG!)

first off, i'm more of a fan of them as a divorce/dysfunctional relationship than i am of the fluffy stuff (just as a personal preference thing ^^;;). i really like tragedies, and deltarune is a game rife with both divorce and tragedies, so it only seems fitting that swatchton would be rife with such things as well.

swatch is a very special darkner in that they have a direct connection to their gods -- they're able to make the hopes of the light into a reality, in a far more literal and direct way than anyone else, and this is a duty they take very seriously. their creations hold a great, hopeful power. in general their relationship to their purpose is a lot like ralsei's -- they cope with the inescapable nature of it by fully believing it to be Right and Good. obviously, thought, it isn't, and that causes them to be more than a little stuck-up and callous towards other darkners. to them, being used is a holy thing, and everyone should aspire to be as good a servant to the light as they are. if someone isn't blessed, like them, they simply deserved their fate. if someone has the opportunity to be blessed again after years of disuse, they should be thankful to the light for such a gift. that's how swatch feels.

because of all this, swatch has a very intense religious devotion, cultivated by their status as "object" in this world. unlike many other characters, they believe this not only because it is how they were conditioned, but also as a way to stay sane in the wake of their inability to choose who they are in this world. a revelation through a shadow crystal or some other means would only strengthen their beliefs, because they would see the true inescapability of their fate. "no one can choose who they are in this world, so why would i do anything but accept that? better to reason it as Good and Just than fight an impossible battle." that's how swatch survives in this world.

on spamton's end, he believes he can truly "game the system". he thinks he can change fate. he thinks, if he just gets on the grindset (so to speak), if he can harness the power of the light for himself, he can gain power over other darkners and truly become a Big Shot (in an ironic way, because his conception of being a Big Shot still involves his purpose -- being an advertisement -- and so in his search for freedom, spamton is never truly free at all). he wants the neo body for himself. he wants to become god-like. he wants the power over others that only those who see them as objects possess. who cares if the rest of the world freezes over? who cares if a few people have to die? that's show business, baby!

both of them see the neo body as a vector for their views of the world. swatch sees it as another part of their purpose -- even as it is abandoned by the light, it is imperative for them to keep it away from prying eyes, to guard the once holy relics in the basement to the best of their ability. it was made in the image of a god, after all, blessed with the hope of the light. spamton, meanwhile, sees it as a means to his own ends. he wants the light -- and hey, if swatch has it, why don't they show it off? why act all high and mighty about keeping it away from someone who could really use it? why don't they use it for themself? swatch's reason for that, of course, is that they see such a thing as a sin. they know, in an abstract way, that it could only end badly, that the light will still hold power over them no matter what. there will always be strings.

but as spamton becomes more and more fixated on the body, learning of it through what i imagine is a while of observing swatch at work, swatch becomes more and more fixated on spamton. their differing viewpoints come to a head as spamton spends less and less time in his room and swatch spends more and more time keeping an eye on spamton. i like to think that for a while, during the big shot era, swatch and spamton would meet in the basement nightly, as spamton would make a routine of going there to pray, and swatch would make a routine of questioning just what he's praying for. a blessing, perhaps? or for it to grant him an impossible ascension?

when things go downhill, of course, swatch and their men throw spamton to the curb, and spamton continues to try and sneak back into the basement -- now dressed as a two-bit version of swatch, which no doubt brings even more complexes about the man to swatch's mind.

i do think, though, that there was a sort of mutuality for them, and there still is, regarding their situations. it's why they keep coming back to each other again and again, despite how diametrically opposed they are. they are the only two who know about the neo body in the way that they do, the only two as close to the light as they are (or, were, in spamton's case). they spend so much time around one another that when spamton needs a shoulder to cry on, he still finds himself seeking swatch. as there are in many relationships, there are often those quiet moments, those times when they're together in the cafe at the end of the day where things are perhaps not nice, but peaceful. and, too, there are those moments they spend together in the basement, tension high, the neo body watching silently over them, where they think "i need someone like this. i wouldn't be here if i didn't clash with you like this. i wouldn't be here if we weren't polar opposites. i hate you. i don't know what my life would be like if you weren't here to know me this way."

#ooc #deltarune #swatchton #swatch #spamton #long post #THIS IS REAL LONG just know that i have a lot of thoughts on this. perhaps not quite ship. narrative idea #i think its fairly unique and different than popular 'fanon' swatchton so if you need something to sell you on the idea in a fresh way #that is this. to me

[extremelyblackandwhite]

dress

pairing: sheriff lee bodecker x younger! reader

warnings: cheating, smut, age gap, angst, blackmailing 

a/n: the reader is at least 10 years younger than lee. if that upsets you, please don’t read this work. additionally, i based reader’s 60′s style mostly out of  that oufit margot robbie wore for once upon a time in hollywood and megan from mad men, you can see my inspiration outfits here [x] [x] hope you enjoy it xx

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try and if I get burned, at least we were electrified. I'm spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we're both drunk. Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you ...

The rain fell harshly and unkindly on the pavement for the fifth day in a row, the sun having forsaken the forgotten hellish town that was Knockemstiff, Ohio. Few could say the name and ever fewer dared to enter the town. Even God’s afraid of it, his mother would tell him after nursing what felt like another one of her endless bottles of liquor. It was a haunted town, not a lot left and those who did never crossed paths with it again. Murder and crime were all time highs but not even the government dared to come in and try to to anything which meant any police force in the town were like gods, deciding who lived and who didn’t. One of those god-like men was Lee Bodecker, however he preferred you called him Sheriff Lee Bodecker.  He was a chubby man in his early thirties, tall but the beer belly made him hunch making him look shorter than he was. He had once been the envy of the town, one of the most handsome men of the town but years of living in Knockemstiff wear down everyone. His own poison had been alcohol which had ended up with him in therapy with his wife and with a therapist who had told him to curb the craving of alcohol with sweets instead. It had little to nothing as he still drank like his life depended on it and tonight was no different from other nights. He took off his hat as he entered the local bar in town, the only bar in town, and everyone looked his way, silence installing the ever noisy bar. He liked it, Lee liked it. He knew he was not the handsome one, in fact his look made him quite funny so he made himself scary. Lee made sure that everyone who looked his way, heard his voice or saw his shadow was afraid of him. It definitely worked as once he sat on the bar stool, there was already a glass with 5 fingers of his favourite drink. 

Everything was silence except for the mumbling of men discussing their days until suddenly the mumbling was no longer about the hell that was living in Knockemstiff. He turned around in his chair and understood why the men were suddenly so interested. There she was, dressed in a high neck black shirt which stood over a white skirt. Matching go go boots left her legs bare, something women in Knockemstiff did not do, still stuck in decades of last. She wasn’t from around and everyone knew it merely by the way she dressed but Sheriff Bodecker knew different. Men watched like dogs as she made her way to the bar, to his side. 

     - Y/N. - he greeted her. - What are you doing here? Trying to disrupt the town?

     - My grandmother died.

     - I heard. My condolences.

     - She left me all of what was hers including the house so I’m here to sell it. 

     - The one in Brewer Heights? - she nodded. - Tis a nice house, but I don’t think anyone here would have enough to buy it.

     - I’ll decide that. - she held the glass the bartender in between her hands, her eyes roaming over to his hands were his wedding ring had started to become tight around his finger. - Still with Jane?

     - Why wouldn’t I be? - he cocked an eyebrow at her. - What are you doing here, Y/N?

    - I told you, I’m here to sell ...

    - No. - he interrupted. - Why are you here, at the bar? What do you want?

    - Nothing ...  I see you’re not in the mood to help me anyways. - she got up from the stool she had sat on, straightening her skirt as her feet hit the floor. - Good evening, Sheriff Bodecker. 

He was sat, watching her leave but also giving an aura to the men who too watched the modern girl exit the building not to get any ideas. Lee knew these men, they were like dogs and once a suitable amount of time passed, he took to returning to his cruiser and follow her. How could he trust this town with her, an outsider? Y/N had been brought up in Knockemstiff, the daughter of store owners who had both been killed in an assault gone wrong. After that, she was ushered to live with her grandmother, the last of socialites in Knockemstiff. Rumours said her grandmother had moved from New York to wed with a penniless man already expecting once she wore her wedding gown. Rumours or not, she still held much more money than anyone in the town together and she wasted not a cent in her granddaughter’s education, moving to a more upscale house in Brewer Heights once she got her under her care. She was always the one with everything and Lee remembered seeing her while still an officer driving around a brand new glossy red car, hair loose through the wind. In all honesty, he thought her never too leave town but as she reached her tender 21st year of life, she left leaving everything behind. 

He parked outside her grandmother’s home, stopping just a bit away from it looking at the house that was so eerily sketched in his mind. He leaned against his seat watching Brewer Heights, the place he so wanted to have lived in his youth. Of course he now owned a place there too but it was faint, fickle. If he were to not be sheriff anymore all would shatter. He would do everything he could to keep his position. He deserved it, he deserved it more than any damned soul on this planet. A knock on the glass removed him from his mind state as he looked the way of his window to see her. 

     - Can I come in? - she asked, eyes lingering on the passenger seat. He stretched over to the side, opening the door for her but not exiting the car. She entered, closing the door as she sat on the seat. - I’ve always hated when you were mad at me. 

     - I’m not mad.

     - You have no reason to be. I know what you’re mad about and it’s your own fault, you know that.

     - Is it my fault you left? - his hands tightened against the wheel of his cruiser, anger coursing through his veins. Lee never liked to hear the truth.

    - She knew, Lee and she was right ... If anyone knew, if the town knew I would’ve been ruined and I didn’t deserve that. You must understand I didn’t deserve that. 

    - I didn’t deserve you leaving without saying a fucking thing now did I, darl’?

    - You were married. - she almost spat the words in his face. - You are married, Lee. Now you can be mad at me all you want, you can hate me for all I give a damn but I was not gonna destroy myself for your happiness, and I will certainly not allow you to destroy yourself for lust. 

    - Y/N ...

    - I don’t need your help anymore and I would enjoy it if you parked your cruiser away from my house. I wouldn’t want any rumours about your infidelities to resurface. - she exited the car and climbed the small incline of grass up to her home. Lee still remembered seeing her in a little white dresses her grandmother would buy for her, climbing that incline while holding the fabric so it wouldn’t fly up. She seemed to have gotten the hang of it.

Lee had met Y/N when she volunteered at the station back when he was still a patrol officer. She did the duties of every single secretary plus cleaning which was what she had volunteered for. It’ll be good for my university application, she told him when Lee asked what she was doing there. She started at 17 and remained there until she was 18 and ready to leave and become something other than a Knockemstiff resident. However, her mother having sudden heart attack ruined her plans and she decided to stay to take care of her. Lee didn’t see her for two whole years until she was 20 years old and he spotted her at the supermarket getting an earful from Mr. Collins about dropping a bottle of olive oil while trying to reach something from the higher shelf. Lee didn’t like it, he didn’t like Mr. Collins berating her for a simple mistake so he stepped in. He remembered her thanking him before reintroducing herself to him. 

He wasn’t one to be swayed by women, he’d married his Jane when he was fresh out of high school and while his relationship was more than stale, he had his mind on work and alcohol. Sure he could’ve divorced, found someone else but he wasn’t the teenager he used to be anymore, he was hardly someone who women would be attracted to besides a single man for a Sheriff? That surely wasn’t gonna happen. Yet, he couldn’t help but be entranced by her, fresh into adulthood with a mind full of ideas about what she wanted to do. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to start a relationship with her, to start an affair yet he couldn’t say he regret it. He didn’t regret the nights where she’d meet him in the woods, covered by a black trench coat. He could still feel his, his hands against her back, feeling the fabric of her undergarments as the windows fogged. 

Y/N was upset. Her friends had told her she better not expect the man who she had left without any notice to help her but she was upset. What choice did she have? After her grandmother heard about it, it would’ve taken no time for everyone in town to hear about it and she would’ve been a disgrace and Lee would’ve certain not become Sheriff. Nevertheless she was upset. Instead, she asked an old friend from school, Billy. It was no surprise he was here, nobody left, nobody ever left. She had left but yet here she was once again, 4 years later wondering about an affair which shouldn’t have happened. Her grandmother had berated her for ages “you don’t sleep with a married man” and of course she knew she shouldn’t yet she had. She didn’t know better. 

She had boxes and boxes packed with whatever it was left of the house, photo books, clothing, bedding, all of it packed. Once she got to New York she could sort through it but right now all she wanted to was leave. Her friends even offered to come over and do it for her but the damned lawyer said it had to be her. In the morning she waited for Billy in the steps of her home, dressed in one of her old 50′s fashioned white dress, a far cry from the mini skirts she used at home and off he came in the exact same car he had when they were both teens. 

   - Y/N, look at you. - he walked off the car. - You look gorgeous, darl’. 

   - Thank you, Billy. - she scratched the back of her head. - Uhm it’s only 5 big boxes. I’ll pay for the gas if you help me take them to post office. 

   - You’re not keeping the house?

   - And live in Knockemstiff? - she rolled her eyes, climbing up the stairs to grab the boxes from the front of the door. The boy helped her pack the car before the two hopped onto the car. - So, how’s the town been?

   - Nothing changes. Mr. Collins died, no one was upset about it and that Bodecker guy became Sheriff. - he light up a cigarette as he turned on the engine. - It’s still as boring as its been and people mostly gossip around the same old gossip.

   - What’s new in gossip?

   - Eleanor still says you and Bodecker were fucking. - he chuckled. - As if ... I mean, look at you, you were prom queen and he’s a fat bastard. 

    - You should watch your mouth, Billy. He’s the sheriff. 

    - Because he bought it. - he shrugged. - Dad says he’s pretty much doing everyone’s dirty work. I mean his sister and her husband disappeared and were found dead. 

    -  I don’t really care for that type of gossip. - she leaned against the seat, watching the trees pass by. It wasn’t that she and Billy were good friends but she needed help and she’d rather die than go beg Lee to help her out. She had tried and it’d failed. Besides what was the worse that could happen?

The worse that could happen became very clear as instead of driving into town he took a left into the woods. She rose her head from the seat as all the ways one could reach town rushed through her mind. This definitely wasn’t one of them, it was hard to even get to the town through the woods. She knew that because, well ... it was where she would meet Lee to ensure no one from town found them. The car came to a stop and Billy got off the car. Maybe he just needed to pee or to get some air. She waited til he was on his back to open the car door and start running but he rushed after her, grabbing her arm and throwing her to the ground before standing over her, hands holding her wrists above her head.

   - Billy, what are you doing? - stay calm, that was what they always taught her, stay calm. 

   - Come on, Y/N. They always wanted us to be together in high school, remember? 

   - I don’t know what you’re talking about. Billy, calm down. 

   - You fucking calm down. I know you want me too, Y/N. You called me, you need my help, darl’. I can make you feel so damn good ... - his mouth lowered down and she started to trash around, trying to get rid of him. 

   - Stop, please stop. - she looked up at the sky, the morning sun barely up as she recalled why you don’t come back to Knockemstiff. You don’t get back because you get stuck. As she convinced herself there was nothing the do, a short was heard through the air. 

  - What the heck are you doing William? - she recognised the voice. She had never been more grateful for that voice. Billy jumped over to his feet.

   - Sheriff ... me and Y/N were just having a bit of fun ... You know, you understand, right?

   - Y/N ... - he looked her way. - What were you doing?

   - It was against my will, Sheriff. - she climbed onto her feet, leaning against a tree at a healthy distance from him.

  - Get the fuck out of here. - the young boy in his mid 20′s rushed out like a child afraid of the dark, forgetting his car and everything he had left behind. Y/N watched him running, tripping onto his legs as Lee fired a warning shot in the air. If this was NY, there would be someone here already but this was Knockemstiff and gun shots were as usual as rain during winter.

He smirked, happy to have once again imposed the authority he so much treasured. Lee never liked Billy, he never liked when he’d drive Y/N home from school even when she was volunteering at the police station. That boy was no good news and always looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Lee still remembered the old Sheriff telling her that boy was no good and looking at her now, dressed in one of her white dresses stained in dirty and green grass stains, he guessed he was right. 

  - Billy, Y/N? Don’t you have other friends?

  - Billy’s the only one with a car. - Y/N mumbled as she grabbed his keys from the floor to take her stuff off his car before he could return. - Thank you but I had it under control.

  - ‘Course you did. - he put his hands on his waist. - Come on, I’ll drive you to wherever you want to go.

  - I don’t want any favours from you, Sheriff Bodecker. - she held her boxes against her chest. Well, if she started now maybe she could be at the post office with all the boxes at nighttime. - That’ll be all.

  - Y/N, come on. I’m a public server so let me help you.

  - I don’t want your help. - she almost barked at him, taking another box from Billy’s car. Maybe she could drive the car, yet again she knew the captain particularly liked Billy and could fine her if 

  - Fine, can you tell me what you’re doing at least?

  - I’m shipping these boxes to New York. I don’t have time to completely go through them so ...

  - Put them in the cruiser. I’ll take them to the post office and take you home. 

  - I don’t want any favours.

  - It’s not for you, it’s for your grandmother. Now get into the car, please. - he opened the door to her.

Y/N huffed. The last thing she needed was a favour from Lee Bodecker yet in all honesty she had no other choice. She packed her boxes into the truck of his cruiser and sat on the passenger seat, arms crossed as he sat in the driver’s seat. Her mind played tricks on her, reminding her of what they used to do in that driver’s seat of his back when she was younger and full of ideas for the future. She shouldn’t have done it and she knew it, Jane Bodecker wasn’t the best woman but she didn’t deserve having her husband sneaking around with a 20 year old despite her herself having had her fair share of affairs. Not that Lee knew and she wasn’t gonna be the one to tell him about the time she was working late in the station and saw his wife getting busy with a new patrol. She didn’t have that right, after all he was doing the same to her. She shouldn’t have done it, nevertheless. Her grandmother died ashamed of her and now she had to deal with it. 

   - Billy said Sandy died. Is it true? 

   - Yeah, last year.

   - Oh ... I’m sorry, I didn’t know. 

   - She had it coming. That weird husband of hers ended up driving her off the edge. That Arvin kid shot them yet I can’t say they hadn’t it coming ... She was still my baby sister. 

   - I’m sorry, Lee. I’m so sorry ...  - she looked down at her skirt. 

   - Almost got me too ... stupid kid. - he shrugged. - Good thing I was fat enough to stop the bullet, I guess.

   - Well, I’m sorry about Sandy. - she said as she saw her house become clearer through the window. He stopped in front of her home, unlocking the doors so she could walk out. 

Y/N walked out before she could do something stupid. Whatever she did, whatever he had, whenever they were together she always ended up doing something stupid. She sat in the empty house of her childhood, only now containing furniture. She could remember it so well from her years as a child running up and down the stairs, not knowing what awaited her outside the world. Nevertheless, she didn’t want to owe anything to Lee. She knew who he had to answer softly too, she knew those men Billy spoke about. They always ran for Sheriff ever since she was a kid. 

She looked at the clock on the wall, 3PM. She knew exactly where those men would be at that time and so she changed and took her way downtown. Everyone turned their head as she walked into the badly light, old bar in tones of musky green which greatly contrasted with her baby blue short dress. The town had gotten stuck in the 40′s and 50′s, women barely showing their legs or any skin and there she was, a woman born and raised in Knockemstiff dressed like a movie star. The table of three men clearly noticed, the under-sheriff, the division chief and the captain. She stood in front of the round table, taking her sunglasses and setting them on top of her head, a nice, covergirl smile on her pink painted lips. You can get the girl out of Knockemstiff but you can’t get Knockemstiff out of the girl.

    - Hello boys. You mind if I seat with you? - she put her hand on one of the chairs. 

    - Hey, you’re Elizabeth’s granddaughter aren’t you? - Frank, the under-sheriff asked, pulling the chair for her. - I thought you were in New York.

    - I was but I just came here because of my grandma’s inheritance, but I have something to discuss. 

Another night, another day of useless parading around for Lee. He’d pass by the post office and shipped Y/N’s boxes and that had been the highlight of his day. As per usual, he made his way to the bar only to found the environment was slightly different. He knew this town like the back of his hand, anything off always rang alarm bells. As the bartender placed his usual poison in front of him, he decided to get to the bottom of the situation. 

   - Why’s everything so quiet?

   - I don’t know, Sheriff. - the man replied while cleaning glasses. - Elizabeth’s girl was here and I don’t know what she did but Frank, Jonah and Fitzwilliam left as if she were the devil.

Fucking hell. He drowned the last of his drink before grabbing his hat and entering his cruise. Damned Y/N, she used to be such a nice girl before leaving to New York. God, the only complaint he ever got about her was when the mayor complained about her wanting to run a march. He drove to her home like a mad man. What was she doing messing around with those three? He’d seen them do worse things for much less. Lee climbed the grass patch up to her door, knocking on it as if his life depended on it. 

   - Y/N, open up. Right now. - he thumped the door again. - I’ll break in if you don’t answer it!

   - Jesus. - the door opened up to Y/N dressed in what he was almost entirely sure was the shortest dress he had ever seen a woman wear. She stood against the door, hand on the wood while the other on her waist as he entered her home. 

   - Took you long enough. - he stepped into the home which he had never dared to step in.

   - I was upstairs. - she closed the door, locking it behind her for good safety. No one can be trusted in this godforsaken town. - What do you want?

Lee walked further into the house ignoring her question as he shut all the windows of the ground floor, anything that could allow anyone to look inside the house. Last thing he needed was for anyone to see inside the home and start any rumours. Stupid bastards. Y/N followed him around asking the same damn question anytime he shut any window and pulled any drapes down. 

   - Stop touching my stuff. - she put herself in front of him. - What do you want, Lee?

   - What do I want? - he sat against the couch, sighing. - What the fuck did you do, Y/N? Why were you at the bar?

   - I didn’t do anything. - she batted her eyes innocently. 

   - Y/N, I have another election coming up soon. I’ll ask again, what did you do at the bar?

   - It’s none of your business. 

   - Y/N, I’ve seen those men kill for less so you tell me now what you did. 

   - Stop ordering me around. - she rolled her eyes at him. - I don’t like owing anyone so now we’re even.

   - We’re even? - he pitched the skin of his nose. - What the fuck, Y/N? 

   - You wanna know what I said? Would that make you feel better? Would that make you feel like you rule this damn town, Lee? - she looked down on him, almost teasing him. Had it been a few years ago she would’ve been under him already. - I helped you out.

   - Y/N ...

   - It’s not just you who was sleeping around with a younger girl. They were sleeping around with friends of mine. The only difference is I have evidence of it ... - she grabbed her purse from the hanger, taking a beige envelope from it and throwing it his way. Lee looked up to her and then to the envelope opening it to see various pictures of girls he knew in compromising positions with his opponents, letters, everything. - They don’t have anything on you because unlike my friends, I don’t keep souvenirs from my affairs. 

  - You blackmailed them? Are you stupid, Y/N? They are going to kill you.

  - Please. - she rolled her eyes at him. - My grandmother owned half this town, if I die everything goes to charity and this town falls apart. Besides, it’s not like I’m planning to stick around for longer. 

  - So what now? You had fun playing femme fatale? You’re bored, is that it?

  - I just won you an election without any competition, Lee. You could be nicer about it. 

  - I don’t need your help. 

  - I don’t need your help either. I was just repaying a favour. - she leaned against the wall. - You can go now. 

   - Did you need to wear that? - he pointed at the dress. - Couldn’t have struck blackmail dressed appropriately?

   - Do you not like my dress? - she looked down, hands grabbing the baby blue fabric as she expanded the flowey skirt. - You know, I bought it for you. I was planning on using it for birthday a few years ago but you know ... had to leave earlier.

   - You bought that dress for me? - he rose from the couch, walking up to her until he had her caged against the wall.

   - I bought it so you could take it off, actually. - Lee must’ve been hallucinating because he swore she was pouting.

She looked up at him with that look she used to give him after a long day at work when he needed something to unwind. Both of them had promised each other not to do anything else when she left, Y/N had told herself no more coming bak and Lee had decided to spend his life content what whatever shred of marriage he had. Yet, she was there in what looked more like lingerie than a dress and he was in uniform, both of them were never good at making good decisions, and this was Knockemstiff. Lee took the first move, leaning down to kiss her like his body dependent on it which in some way he did. She held onto his shoulder, flushing her body against his as his hands started trying to pull the dress away from her body. Baby blue fabric flowed to the ground as he picked her up, throwing her against the couch he had just been sat on. He stopped kissing her to look at her, to look at the body he still dreamed at night or whenever he shut his eyes. She could’ve been gone for 4 years but she sure never left his wildest fantasies. 

  - Lee, wait. - her hands stopped him from returning to kiss her. - Let me treat you, please.

  - Oh sugar, you don’t need to ask. - she got up, walking slowly past him, her matching baby blue undergarments much more racy than what she used to wear back in Knockemstiff. She pushed him against the couch, smirking as she went down on her knees. - What are you doing down there, sugar? It’s more than you can handle. 

  - Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’m a big girl. - her hands unbuckled the belt off his trousers, throwing it to the floor followed by his trousers. She peppered kisses over his thighs down to his knees and then to the edge of his underwear. Slowly, she peeled them away, making eye contact with him. The silent girl he had known before was definitely long gone and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Before he could make up his mind, she took him entirely inside inside her mouth. - Fuck, you look fucking flawless with my big cock in your mouth, sugar.

She smiled at his praise, moving her head up and down still at a painfully slow pace, his balls in her hands. Lee pushed his head back, groaning at her motions and thinking it could no get better until she started to move her head faster, his tip reaching the back of her throat, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Instead she moaned against him, the vibrations making him feel like he was on cloud 9. Fuck being sheriff, nothing made him quite higher than having the one who got away with his cock down her throat. He started twitching against her mouth, his hand grabbed a handful of her hair, pushing her against his pelvis and starting to control her moves. She kept moaning against him, bringing him over the edge until he just couldn’t hold himself anymore. His grip loosened on her head as his muscles gave up on him.

Y/N got up from her kneeling position, thumb pushing whatever cum had spilled over into her mouth. That image alone made him harden up again like some horny teenage boy. She smiled at him, hands on his shoulders as she sat on his lap. 

   - What do you want me to do, Sheriff? - she batted her eyes at him, leaning down to kiss his ear lobe lowering down to his neck. 

  - You wanna ride my cock, sugar? - he hooked his hand on her nape, pushing her so she was looking at him. - You wanna make up to me for leaving me all alone?

  - Yes, Sheriff. - she lined up and slowly sunk down on him, both of them moaning. 

   - Come on, sugar. Show me what you can do. - she started riding him as if the devil had possessed her. He pushed her lips against his, a sloppy messy kiss which definitely was more lust than anything else as she moved up and down against him.  - Yeah, you like that don’t you, sugar? Tell me you like it, sugar. 

  - It feels so good, Lee. - she leaned against him, her hips still moving as he pulled her bra down, pinching her nipple. - Fuck.

  - You’re never gonna leave me again. - he started thrusting up, moving her from under him so she was laid across the couch. - Promis ... fuck ... promise me, sugar. Promise, you’re not gonna leave.

  - Lee ... - she moaned against the couch’s pillow as he speed up his pace, hands holding her hips and moving them against and away from him. 

  - You’re not gonna leave. - he groaned, feeling the way her walls milked him with such need. - You’re not gonna leave me, sugar. You’re not, right? You’re gonna stay.

   - Lee ... - she cried out before her mouth opened up in a perfect O, her orgasm washing over her. He didn’t take too long to cum, groaning like a wild animal as strings of white painted her walls. He slipped out of her, holding her before turning so she was standing on top of him. - Lee, I can’t stay. You know that, right? 

   - Why not? Things were good when you were around. 

   - I left for a reason, Lee. - she got up from him, grabbing her dress and quickly slipping it on. - And that reason still stands. 

   - Y/N, please listen ...

   - When I was 20 and we started this, I truly believed you were going to divorce your wife. You were going to divorce her and you were gonna marry me and ... and my grandma would’ve been upset but she would’ve learned to deal with it and then she would’ve taken me to the altar. I waited a year to see if I would ever become something other than a mistress and then the elections came around and I understood you were not gonna divorce Jane. You were going to be Sheriff and you’re still going to be Sheriff and maybe sometime Mayor. I’m not gonna be your mistress anymore, Lee.

  - Y/N ...

  - Please, leave. - she wiped whatever tears were threatening to fall off. Lee furrowed his brow, putting on his trousers before trying to approach her but she stopped him, arm raised firmly keeping distance. - Please, leave.

  - Y/N, c’mon. Let’s talk.

  - LEAVE! - she rose her tone at him. Lee wasn’t going to argue with her, it wasn’t his place to argue with her at her own house and so he left. Y/N stayed in the middle of her leaving room, arms crossed until she broke down crying.

She could almost hear her grandmother’s words “there’s no use crying about it” when she told her Lee was running for Sheriff. Funny how even after being dead, the old nag still was as right as she was four years ago. She wiped her tears with her hand and climbed the stairs up to her bedroom, sitting on the bare bed. It was going to be alright, tomorrow she’d be able to sign the rights over to the letting agency and could return to New York. Things were fine there, or at least she wasn’t sleeping with a married man there.

The sun didn’t raise up that morning, rain instead replaced it and so Y/N remained laid in bed watching the rain drop rush down the fogged up windows until a loud thumping on her door forced her to get up. She wrapped herself in her robe and went down the stairs to open the door. 

  - Good morning, miss. - she opened the door to her letting agent. - How are you?

  - I’m alright, Don. I’m sorry, I thought the open house was later. I’ll just get my stuff and leave.

  - No, it’s all right miss. I am just here to tell you that we’ve sold the house was above the price you were asking for.

  - Pardon me?

  - At least two times the asking price. It was such a good price, he had to take it. Paid upfront.

  - What really? Who?

  - He should be coming to see the place in an hour. - he said. - We’ll bring you the check later on. 

  - All right. Thank you Don.

That was good news at least she got to leave Knockemstiff before anything else happened. She didn’t know what had overcome her to decide to have sex with Lee. Pull yourself together Y/N, you’ve had four years to learn how to deal with it. It was fine, it was going to be fine. She packed whatever was left of her stuff into her small patched up luggage and put it by the door. She just needed to wait for Don to bring her check back and she could go on back to New York, where her mistakes only included putting coloured clothes with whites and then having pink clothes for the rest of her life. A knock on the door made that decision come much faster. Okay, Y/N. Get the check and go.

  - Lee? - she opened the door to see the least person she wanted to see. - Go away, I’m expecting someone.

  - I know. - he walked in as if the house was his. - You’re expecting me.

  - This is not funny, Lee. Don should be bringing my check anytime and the owner will be here in an hour.

  - Yeah, I’m sorry I’m early.

  - Pardon? - she rose her eyebrows at his statement. - What do you mean?

  - It’s my house now. I was thinking of upgrading, ya know? This house is the best one in Brewer Heights after all.

  - Are you fucking kidding me, Lee?! - she stood in front of him before he could walk further into her home. - You’re bringing your wife into my childhood home? YOU’RE BRINGING YOUR WIFE TO YOUR MISTRESS’S HOME?!

  - How many bedrooms is this house? They said they thought it was over five in the contract. 

  - You have a perfectly good house. Why do you want mine?

  - Mine is too small. Only one bedroom, I’d have no place to build a nursery.

  - A nursery? You and your wife are having a baby? In my childhood home ... how swell. 

  - You know I’m thinking about running for mayor. I mean, it’d look good if I had a family.

  - Good luck convincing Jane. - she gave him a cynical smile. 

  - I don’t have to convince Jane. I’d have to convince you. 

  - Me? Fuck off, Lee. I’m not having a baby for you and your wife. Fuck off. 

  - We’re a good team, Y/N. Besides, Jane is no longer in the picture.

  - Lee ... - she sighed. - Please.

  - You see, my wife isn’t as good as me at keeping her infidelities casual. The other candidates have caught wind of it ... I need someone who’s almost as good at blackmail as me.

  - I’m better at blackmail than you. - she crossed her arms at him.

  - So what do you say, sugar? Want to be the sheriff’s wife?

  - Do you promise I’ll get to be the mayor’s wife someday? 

  - With you on my team, I think you’re gonna be the mayor’s wife sooner than you think.

taglist: @buckysteveloki-me​ 

#sebastian stan #sheriff lee bodecker #lee bodecker #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker/reader #lee bodecker/y/n #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker/you #lee bodecker x you #sheriff lee bodecker x you #sheriff lee bodecker x reader #sheriff lee bodecker imagine #sheriff lee bodecker fanfic #sheriff lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker smut #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine

[belaborthepoint]

How I got my zoom crush to fall in love with me

I have no hope for the future. I have no remaining interests or passions and I eat nothing but refried beans. I am a ghost of my former self. I am finally convinced that the world is a horrible, violent place and there is no way out. The good thing is, I found love. I saw a hot person on zoom and I made him fall madly in love with me. Indulging in the charade of romance with someone I've never met and who lives in a different state and who has expressed no interest in me whatsoever has been my one source of light in this dark world, and I wanted to share my good fortune by passing along my tips and tricks for making someone on zoom fall in love with you.

The first step in whatever you are doing is to look at instructional drawings on WikiHow. When I looked up how to flirt with someone using a digital medium, there was a big X over a text message with lots of 'hahaha's and 'lol's so I knew that laughing was unattractive. Whenever someone made a joke in the zoom room I made sure to look extremely angry and I sent my crush a message that said "I do not have a sense of humor." To seal the deal, I sent him a video of me crying.

I was worried that my approach might be too subtle, however, when I read about drawing attention to yourself. The article said to wear more makeup than usual, and a hot outfit, so I pulled out my face painting kit and learned how to make it look like my face was like a rat's face with like whiskers and stuff and then I put on a sexy french maid costume. I knew that all eyes were on me in that zoom session and I was eating it up. Sometimes it can be hard to accept attention when everyone is attracted to you because you want them to see you for the person you are beneath that pretty face and also you shouldn't draw too much attention to yourself if you're not a cis man because it's rude and annoying and you're not entitled to that much space, so it's always a delicate balance.

The next thing I learned from an internet article is that you should always be carrying a hot liquid so that people will associate you with warm feelings. But my question was, how will they know what the temperature of the drink is unless it's so hot that you burn yourself? I couldn't think of an answer, so I realized I would have to pour boiling water all over my body, unfortunately. But this could work to my advantage, because I could also use this to draw attention to myself a little bit. I "forgot" to mute my mic, haha, and then I waited for my water to boil and start making a ruckus. Everyone waited for me to go take it off the stove and they were all like "mute yourself" but I pretended that I didn't hear anything for a few minutes and played coy in a fun, cute way. Then I "forgot" to mute myself again, haha, and clattered around the kitchen and dropped some china dishes on the floor and they shattered. Then I was like "okay, about to pour this boiling hot water on top of this teabag in order to make tea!" but then I pretended to slip on a banana peel and I was like "WOAHWOAHWOAHWOAHWOAH" and I swung my arms all around and then fell on the floor. But I forgot to spill hot water on myself so then I had to do it again, and I had to pretend like I'd accidentally dropped TWO banana peels on the floor, which was kind of embarrassing because I would never eat that many bananas in one day but I had to pretend like I was the kind of person who would do that. So then I did the pratfall thing again but this time I lifted up the tea kettle and poured the boiling water all over myself.

Then I screamed and thrashed about on the floor and unfortunately I had to go to the emergency room and get a full body cast for the 3rd degree burns all over my entire body, so I couldn't see how my crush reacted for the end of the zoom session. But for our next encounter, I put some of my sexy lingerie over my full body cast to give him a little something to feast his eyes upon, and I knew that he was loving that because he sneezed two times in a row, which I think was kind of like a secret code to express that he thought I was really hot even in my full body cast. Some people asked if I was okay and I was very sweet and modest and everyone liked that and found me very approachable. This was another thing that was a good tactic, which was to do something kind of embarrassing (slipping on a banana peel and pouring boiling water on my body) to make myself seem more relatable and less threatening since people are often intimidated by my looks.

When two zoom meetings had passed and I had received no DMs, I knew I'd have to step up my game. An additional tip I learned online is that you should connect over shared interests, which initially was a problem because I don't have any interests. But one thing I thought of is that what if I were inside his house? Then we would have the connection of being in the same building. So I flew to his state in a private jet to accommodate my full body cast and then broke his window and hurled myself through it. I used to do long jump in high school track so I'm really good at flinging my body up over things. He was in another room listening to something with noise cancelling headphones on so he didn't hear, and I had the chance to go sit in his bathroom. Conveniently, I really needed a place to poop because I'm scared of pooping on airplanes because I'm worried the gravity will push it back up inside me and clog my organs and kill me. Then I realized it was time for our weekly zoom meeting! So I thought, wouldn't that be so funny if he opened up his laptop and there in my zoom square was someone (me), sitting on his own toilet? That would be so surprising!

Before he got on, someone else said that it was indecent of me to have my camera on while I was pooping, so I had to turn it off until I was done. I finished up and moved to the tub. I thought it would be funny if during the zoom call I washed my hair so he could be like, is that my bathroom? Is that my SHAMPOO? That's funny! Unfortunately I dropped my laptop in the tub and it broke before anyone could see whose tub I was in. But he did have to use the bathroom at one point and he saw me in there washing the conditioner out of my hair. Unfortunately he was more angry and disturbed than charmed, and he asked me to leave his house.

An inspirational quote I always come back to is "it's better to have loved and lost." Margaret Thatcher said that about divorce. I'm someone with a lot of feelings, which is why I went to school to pursue acting and then moved back in with my parents at the age of 25 to wander the rooms of my childhood home wearing sunglasses and smoking CBD out of a long cigarette holder. Not everyone wants to marry me, but everyone falls in love with me at least once. And is it really a romance if there wasn't some drama along the way? I always say, you can't make everyone like you, but you can become an inescapable presence in their psyche for the rest of their days. My crush will never forget me, and for that I am grateful. Our romance was fleeting, like the art of the theatre. You can't hold on to it, and that's what makes it beautiful. Margaret Thatcher said, "you can't always get what you want." I think what connects us as humans is that we all love and we all lose. That's a universal truth. And truth is what it's all about. The beauty of universal truth is why I became an actor and then moved back into my parents' house at the age of 25 to wear long satin robes and listen to opera in the dark. My life may not be glamorous, but it is true. All we can do in these lonely times is to be true and honest and vulnerable with each other. Now is the time to confess your love. Now is the time to hurl yourself through the window of your crush's house. Now is the time to move back in with your parents at the age of 25 to wear old nightgowns and collect dust and stare at yourself in the mirror wondering what has become of the person you once were. I may not be a successful actor, but I do know how to love out loud and with my whole heart, and that's amazing. Margaret Thatcher was actually a mediocre actor in pornographic short films before she became the most famous divorce attorney in the United Nations, and that's what I always think about when I'm going through a heartbreak. I hope this article has helped inspire readers to pursue your own passions and take a chance on love, because that's really what it's all about. As Margaret Thatcher says, love is the answer.

[izzyovercoffee]

Su'cuy, vod! I read through basically all your Mando'a posts and had some thoughts I wanted to share. I semi-actively work on a Mando'a-English-German dictionary, which opens a whole new chest of translation problems, but you gave me some great ideas, so I incorporated them into the dictionary. For example that whole sheath thing, for that I added a remark to the original word, to warn about it's connotation (didn't remove it, because 'real' dictionaries include slurs sometimes as well) 1/X

Only thing, where I differed from your idea on this was cab'gam, I used this as ‘protective case/cover’. Now some other things I thought of: On colours - you pondered about the connotations of yellow regarding ‘just/barely alive’ and its comparison to gold. I thought maybe it’s about flames/light - like a bright vivid flame is a bright gold, while the flame, when it’s only small and ->barely alive

Woo this is a long ask. I’m so sorry I’ve taken so long to get around to answering this, I’ve been very busy!! Also, I think I’m missing part 7? But I think I can extrapolate what was in it, unless you’d like to send it to me again if you still have. I’m so sorry again anon!

I’m good w/ defining cab’gam that way too, maybe as a general term for protective case, since we do technically need a general/generic word for that. So cool, that def works !! I’ll go back and note that on the original post.

Also, yeah. YEAH! You know, when I was working on that post, I didn’t even consider that it might have been referencing intensity of light/fire? But the way you put it, that may actually make more sense than the direction I was going in. I was definitely perplexed somewhat, like I was missing something. This sounds like what I was missing.

That could also apply for the heat of a flame, too. Like, referring to the intensity of the light, or the intensity of the heat, or both, depending entirely on context.

I’ll notate that in my personal references. I’ll probably come back to this in the future if/when I put one long complicated color references/resources post together again. 

Thank you for bringing that up, truly.

Meanwhile I also really like your thought and explanation on yellow and orange maybe being the same for Mandalorians. Another thing I wanted to tell you is sth you already found yourself, that saviin sounds a lot like Sabine, which seems very very likely to me, considering the long i (or rather e - from an anglophone perspective) and that [v] and [b] are very similar sounds, so maybe Sabine is like a basic transcription or a dialect form of Saviin. Regarding the meaning of the colour/name 3/X 

My etymology for it would be the following: “viin”/“bine” being a degenerated/shortened form (or even the root?) of kebiin - blue connected with “sa” - as, like, it gives “sa viin” - “like blue”, what is kind of a good description for purple/violet, implying the standard shade in mandalorian perception would be a darker bluish purple ALSO implying that the concept of purple cam up comparably late in the language, similar of the color orange getting it’s name rather late in germanic languages 4/X

Ohhh that’s such a good point! I was going color by color so I missed the connection in the effort to complete the post, which was an oversight by me sadly. But that’s such a great point ??? 

If anything it might also then directly connect the connotations of blue (reliability) with purple (adaptability, survival in adversity). They who are reliable can be depended on to adapt and survive adversity, or so on, kind of like orange (lust for life) from yellow, as thought about from above (the intensity of the flame). 

(lmao this is so awesome tbh thank you for mentioning both !! I’m like vibrating from excitement from these two points !! is that weird to say lmao let me make this hard to read so I don’t embarass myself too much)

Then I wanted to ask where you got the words cingaanar and din'waadar, as they aren’t included in the dictionary I have, what confused me little, as I also only got search results linking to your very post about it. In another post you questioned the missing of a word for child of parents sibling or was it child of sibling? Anywy, I’d say the explanation is for both rooted in the way Mandalorian society is made up. As we know the ideal is a big clan living together kinda like a commune…. 5/x

so the words cinargaanar and din’waadar were pulled from mandoa.org dictionary, which is the most popular resource. it’s also in one of the editions of the mando’a dictionary that was released via spreadsheets back in the day from Karen Traviss’ site. It looks like those spreadsheets are no longer available to access, so take that with a grain of salt, but essentially mandoa.org was/is the most comprehensive of “canon” mando’a we have to date in easy access to the general person.

Going along the common phrase “it takes a village to raise a child” any capable adult is expected to participate in bringing up the kids, so while it’s known who’s whose child it doesn’t matter enough to be shown in language. So your parent-sib-kids are just your vode (remember, vode an!) and your sib-kids are “ade” as well as your own children, it’s consens that mando'a relies heavily on context, so speaking family internally context tells who your own childs are and who aren’t. Aruetiise.. 6/X 

view about love. For Mandalorians love isn’t really an emotional thing, that’s also why we shouldn’t take “kar'taylir darasuum” lit. as “hold sm. eternally in the heart”, but rather just as “knowing someone forever”. Knowing someone for so long (or so good/deep it feels like forever) that you can unconditionally trust them and you have a strong bond with each other, that’s the mandalorian meaning of “love” With having “love” as such a hard-to-achieve state of sentiment it isn’t surprising… 8/X

Okay so it looks like I’m missing part 7/X and I’m so sorry if you don’t have it around anymore. I think I can extrapolate the meaning/context though. Again, I’m so sorry for the delay in responding.

wrt children of my siblings, I can see what you mean by that for sure. If anything, maybe instead of inferring them as vode, maybe the “proper” way is to refer to them as if they are your own children? As you mentioned “it takes a village to raise a child,” I’m wondering, now, if it’s more like … because mandalorians are so community-centered / focused, if the polite thing is to indicate that these children are “your” children, as they’re just as much an aunt/uncle’s responsibility as anyone else.

We certainly see Kal Skirata refer to all children as kid/s, or his kids even if he has no intention of adopting them. Since he’s supposed to be a representation of appropriate parenthood (all of our issues regarding him notwithstanding), perhaps niece/nephew isn’t a specificity that is seen as necessary — maybe it’s considered an unreasonable boundary specifically when it comes to children. Notsomuch the adults, as mandalorians can divorce authority, but children are sacred and unnecessary boundaries may interfere with that?

It’s something to think about at least.

edit:: with some mulling over w/ @cassiansfuzzyjacket I’d like to note that it may be inappropriate to claim that one’s sibling’s child is “your” child, as a child’s parents still inhabit an entirely different role and space than aunts and uncles. it’s more likely KT never thought about it and thus that’s why it’s missing, but ultimately YMMV. 

wrt love, that’s definitely a possibility. I feel like love and its interpretations is contingent on … cultural … interpretations? Notsomuch in-universe as the general audience (like you and me) and what we bring from the context of our lives and perception and place upon difficult concepts such as love.

I’m definitely informed by my experiences, and so how I view love is dramatically different than maybe how you do (or the same!). and I feel like when it comes to defining love from a mandalorian point of view, we need to get into the perspective as its available to use.

what I mean is that I agree with you, when you put it that way. At least, for a good subset of mandalorians if not all of them, love may then require trust, or knowing not as knowledge but deeper than such, exactly as you said. 

it’s certainly how I’ve personally come to view love, and love as a bond that requires a foundation of trust and reliability as opposed to passion that may not be entirely well placed despite best intentions … but then again I have a difficult time myself with the conceptualization of love so I might not be the best person with which to develop words for it. 

It also concerns me bc mandalorians may have this deep difficult and complicated understanding of love, but then also culturally expect people to marry young and stay together … and we’ve seen many, many instances where this often leads to unhappy marriages, or even dramatic power imbalances within the relationship, maybe even rendering them inescapable. So how does one bridge these dramatically opposing ideals?

I mean context and culture already has, as divorce is a clearly supported thing across different power differentials so maybe the expectations aren’t restricted by law. Something to think about, in any case.

Thank you so much for your thoughts! You’ve given me a LOT to think about and mull over, and I deeply deeply appreciate it. Thank you. Vor’entye.

#mando'a #mandalorians #Anonymous #long post for ts #izzy talks mando'a #replies.txt #meta #meta: mandalorians #meta: mando'a #v: star wars #Izzy talks mandalorians

[drlauralwalsh]

Don't Be Mad at Me.

Anger is a necessary stage of grief.  Right?  It may be the therapist in me but I can’t get mad at my dead wife.  Technically, it’s her fault that she’s dead (by suicide).  I’ve got no beef with her because I understand.  And you can too.

I recently read “Suicidal: Why We Kill Ourselves” by psychologist Jesse Bering.  Ok fine, I listened to the audiobook while doing yard work.  I found the book oddly satisfying and peaceful.  Death has that effect on people - especially horrible deaths.  The really sad things end up….well, validating.  It makes us morbid and we want to talk about gross stuff.   It can also make us really funny - like the beautiful charm of my dead wife’s thumbprint on a necklace.  IT’S A CHERISHED KEEPSAKE!  It doesn’t matter that the print was taken posthumously.  As the widow, you have to agree with me.

Dr. Bering’s book is a mix of academic research and personal stories.  He touches on Baumeister’s stage theory of suicide first described in the 1990 article “Suicide as escape from self.”  Dr. Berring applies Baumeister’s stages to the diary of a young woman who died by suicide.  On the outside, the young woman appeared successful and happy.  On the inside, she was suffering.  Her journal entries follow a predictable pattern, describing the downward spiral towards her death.  

As you know, suicide is a bit of a soapbox for me.  Baumeister’s steps bring order to a chaotic experience.  For me, it shifted how I thought of events before Patty died.  Instead of thinking of it as a series of choices she made, her death became something that happened to her.  Understanding the progressive stages of suicidal thinking makes the process knowable.  It doesn’t answer the bigger question of why bad things happen but it’s a start.

To my fellow suicide loss survivors - this doesn’t mean you missed something.  Obviously, we did because, you know...but let’s take the young woman as an example.  It only became evident to her parents in retrospect.  We only see the whole picture once we’ve put the puzzle together.  In the middle, there’s not enough information to know anything for sure.  However, these stages do provide important information for more effective prevention.

I was trying to think of the perfect blend of dark humor and suicide education.  It’s actually not that funny aside from one liners like, “Thanks for your help!  I would have asked my wife but dang it, she killed herself,” or “Patty and I had planned to move south for retirement but she retired early.”  The best I can do is give you interesting information and hope this helps you understand your loved one.  Here’s my interpretation of the stages:

Stage 1: Falling short of Unrealistic Standards

An earthquake event creates what I call the tsunami.  Something big happens- bad news, a diagnosis, loss or divorce, or a critical tipping point.  It crashes over and overwhelms you.  We’ve all had this happen to us.  How we deal with it comes down to locus of control - in other words, who gets the blame and responsibility.  Generally, everyone is inclined to either believe the world acts upon you (externalizing) or you act upon the world (internalizing).  The objective truth lies somewhere in the middle.   In the extreme, externalizers point to everyone else as the cause of their misery while internalizers put themselves at risk by hoarding all the blame for themselves.  

Stage 2: Attributions of Self

Taking blame and responsibility is power.  However, some internalizers also have unrealistically high expectations of themselves.   Realistically, sometimes things just happen to us (i.e. the world acts upon us) and there’s no one to blame.  An internalizer’s downfall is believing they have more power than they do.  Some complex experiences can’t be fixed by one person and internalizing individuals believe this is a personal failure.  This is a point of intervention if the person can catch it.  Otherwise, it’s the kindling of despair and low self esteem.  

Stage 3: Heightened Aversive Self Awareness

Now that the individual has absorbed more blame and responsibility than they can possibly manage, they cannot help fixating on the painful awareness of failures.   An unintended result is withdrawing and detaching from the support of friends and family.   As these connections are lost, the individual feels trapped  inside a thick wall of glass.  Unable to receive help or shift to the bigger picture, the individual turns further inward.  Without access to perspective and social support, they begin running out of options.   

Stage 4: Negative Affect

A downward spiral builds on negativity from the previous stages.  The awareness of perceived inadequacies is now excruciating.  Coupled with social detachment, the individual feels completely alone with their now unsolvable problems.  The pain, endless and unbearable, gradually overwhelms their ability to cope.  

Stage 5: Cognitive Deconstruction

Escape from their own mind is the one last, stopgap strategy.  Now detached from their internal struggle, the person avoids or rejects the pursuit of answers or meaning.  Time slows down as a switch from future thinking to each current moment occurs.  “Going through the motions” temporarily numbs painful emotions as the individual distracts from the pain with mindless, concrete functions like chores, simple games, or mundane tasks.  Tightly holding back the tide of painful thoughts takes all their emotional energy.  Little consideration is given to friends or family and the individual may see themselves as a burden.

Stage 6: Disinhibition

In this last stage, the person can only think in black-or-white.  The pain inside the glass prison has no time - no beginning or end.  Substance use, careless or risky behaviors, self harm, and social passivity are signs of impaired reasoning.  After exhausting all other strategies, the individual concludes it comes down to  inescapable pain or death.  No one could endure this level of  unremitting pain for long.   Resigned and accepting their impending death, the individual’s pain tolerance increases and their fear of death crumbles.  

Passing through these stages may take months or even days with significant overlap between them.  In retrospect, I can see my wife moving quickly through each of these stages over a handful of days.  She didn’t know what was happening and neither did we.  One of the reasons we don’t always recognize this process is precisely what makes it fundamentally human - the individual is trying to solve their problems.  It’s instinctive to seek options to ease our own pain.   How can we tell when someone crosses that razor fine line between coping and the downward spiral when it looks the same?

It’s important to understand that a death by suicide is something that happened to your loved one rather than a series of rational choices.  Inside the experience of intense pain, time stops, rational thought leaves you and the options narrow.  We’re not inside their heads but we can map out the path they took.  Consider this: imagine you’ve lost something precious down a deep well.  You climb down inside, searching ever deeper for it.  You know it’s there but you can’t find it.  Darkness falls and now you’re stuck clinging to the wall.   How deep is the well?  No one hears your cries for help.  You’re cold and your muscles are giving out.  How long could you hold on?

A reasonable person with perspective does not choose death.   Yet as a culture, we still lay blame and responsibility in the dead person’s lap.  What we don’t understand, we externalize.  They decided to kill themselves, right?  This assumption lacks empathy.  The raw fact is in a similar situation, we might make the same “choice” as well.  Everyone has a limit.

After my wife died, the pain of losing her has been intense and unyielding.  I longed to be with her.  My own death seemed the only choice to accomplish this goal.  If she’d dealt with her pain by running off to Antarctica, I’d want to follow her there.  What has protected me from following the path we’ve outlined?  

For starters, I see life from a different angle.   While I’m an internalizer, I also give the world it’s fair share of responsibility.  Sometimes shit just happens and life isn’t fair.  As a recovering control freak, I now acknowledge my high need for control - and the limits of it.  Most of the time, I control by choosing not to fight.  

Our motivations are different as well.  What pushed her down the path was a tangle of events she found too complicated to resolve.  Similarly, I too have a complicated tangle of grieving her while sorting out the estate, comforting the kids, and making very difficult choices for my life.  

One big difference between me and most people is that I never fail.  It’s not that I don’t make mistakes, of course; it’s what I do with these adverse experiences.  In my mind, they are puzzles to solve.  Even as an optimist, I’ve had to work on that mindset.  Understanding something is powerful.  It also strips away anger.  Following knowledge to the root brings clarity.  I just don’t feel angry towards my wife because she didn’t choose to leave us.  She was trying to relieve a terrible pain with the only methods she knew.  She didn’t understand the implications herself.

Right now, I’m solving the puzzle of my wife’s suicide.  Even if I get deep in the well of figuring it out, I’ve got my safety rope to climb back up.  Another tsunami could easily knock me off right now.  The tsunami is the perfect storm.   Given the right set of circumstances, we’re each at risk for suicide.  Research is still figuring out the puzzle of prevention for now.   In the meantime, when the world acts upon you, control by deciding to be vulnerable.  And wherever you go, take your own rope.

#grief #suicide #suicide loss #suicide loss survivor #stages of suicide #Baumeister

[trendingnewsb]

The humanity at the center of ‘Rick and Morty’s’ rick-diculousness

When there's no one to blame but yourself

Image: adult swim

Like its mad scientist protagonist, at times it feels like Rick and Morty does everything in its power to remain unlikeable.

Grotesque, crass, nihilistic, confrontational, distressing, and almost insufferably up-its-own-ass intelligent — it’s actually the show’s undeniable heart (and tendency to rip it out of your chest) that grounds the sci-fi juggernaut in issues that can hit a little too close to home.

If Rick and Morty has ever made you uncomfortable, you’re not alone. And, actually, not outside the intentions of its creators.

“We always saw this show as our little darling that was supposed to have nothing to do with success, or attention, or pleasing people,” co-creator Dan Harmon recently told us. 

On those first two accounts, he and fellow mastermind Justin Roiland failed miserably.

SEE ALSO: ‘Rick and Morty’ co-creator slays trolls harassing its female writers

This season, Rick and Morty is up 81% year over year, and has become the #1 comedy on TV among adults 18-24 and adults 18-34, according to Nielsen’s Live+7 ratings — putting it ahead of primetime favorites like The Big Bang Theory and Modern Family. The critical praise for Rick and Morty remains damn near unanimous. 

As the Season 3 finale approaches on Sunday, Oct. 1, it appears Rick and Morty has transitioned from cult favorite into full-on cultural phenomenon in just a few months, since the premiere in April.

But the metamorphosis goes far beyond ratings. Over the course of the season, we watched a show that did all it could to alienate itself from everyone turn into a show that’s about as personal and intimate as a nightmarish Thanksgiving at granny’s house.

The familiarity that grounds Rick and Morty‘s universe(s)

Since Day 1, the series has reveled in an unrelenting, disconcerting kind of honesty. But when Season 3 promised to be the “darkest” one yet, no one really understood what that meant. More gore, presumably — plus the soul-crushing existential dread we’ve come to know and love.

Then the premiere finally aired. Both gore and existentialism abound in Rick’s annihilation of not one but two planetary systems of governance. But the most disturbing twist of all in “The Rickshank Redemption” cut deeper than even species-wide genocide.

A scene all too familiar to anyone who’s attended a family dinner

Image: adult swim

And it took place in the family garage, without a drop of blood being spilled.

Mere seconds after Beth declares she’ll never let her father come between her and Jerry’s marriage again, the devil himself portals back into her life uninvited. 

“Guess who dismantled the government?” he declares as an apology for abandoning his daughter (again).

Without so much as a blink, Beth wrestles out of her husband’s embrace to crawl back into daddy’s arms like a beaten puppy to its abuser. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“I never will, baby.”

From there on out, we can only watch in horror as Grandpa Rick’s reign of terror takes hold of the house. Having manipulated Jerry out of the picture, Rick reveals his psychotic plan to his grandson — globs of alcohol-induced spittle flying from his deranged mouth: 

“I’ve rep[burps]laced them both as the de facto patriarch of your family and your universe. Your mom wouldn’t have accepted me if I came home without you and your sister, so now you know the real reason I rescued you. Oh! I just took over the family, Morty!”

Yup. Definitely getting darker.

How Season 3 transcended itself (by accident)

To anyone who’s ever been a member of a family, these scenes of dysfunction feel unshakeable.

You know this man, the de facto patriarch, who manipulates himself into the center of everyone’s universe, only to abandon them at every opportunity. Or perhaps you know his daughter, wine glass perpetually in hand, struggling to fit a role she never suited, while enjoying herself most with the poor robotic approximations of her children programmed to emote only supportive affirmations toward her behavior. 

SEE ALSO: ‘Rick and Morty’ went super Freudian in ‘Pickle Rick’ and it was perfection

Maybe you’re the kids, watching helplessly from the backseat, as the insurmountable truth that none of the adults know what the fuck they’re doing dawns on you. That, in fact, nobody knows what the fuck they’re doing.

The psychological damage stemming from the collapse of their traditional family unit ripples through nearly every episode of Season 3 with stinging authenticity. The sci-fi premises that used to define the show’s boldness have become more of a backdrop, as week to week the tragedy of a family fighting to put their ill-fitting, broken pieces back together unfolds. Only to fail. Again and again.

Rick and Morty has become one of the starkest portraits of familial love, and our endless capacity to care for and destroy the people we’re closest to — often simultaneously.

This shift has surprised perhaps no one more than the show’s own creators.

“If anything we were trying get back to basics,” Harmon said. “We were just chasing the initial dream — that joy of infinite possibilities that we got from Season 1… and I guess along the way we screwed up and made Breaking Bad instead.”

Whether intentional or not, the numbers don’t lie. Rick and Morty is striking a cord of universality that it never has before. But in typical Rick and Morty fashion, that universality doesn’t come from any place of comfort.

It stems from the shared agony of being alive, and stumbling through the illogical reality of human existence.

The two major emotional themes of the season have personal relevance to Harmon in particular. For one, in between Season 2 and 3, he started going through his own divorce. For another, he got himself into therapy.

“In previous seasons, the height of my introspection had to do with how angry I was at NBC. Or humankind in general,” he said, referring to his disastrous experience as the creator of the beloved but niche NBC show, Community. “The big shift [of Season 3] is that I don’t have anything to be angry at, except myself.”

In one of Harmon’s favorite episodes of the season, “Pickle Rick,” the once infallible and all-powerful patriarch can be seen on a therapist’s couch. Having turned himself into a literal pickle to avoid dealing with the damage he’s inflicted on his own family, Rick looks positively dwarfed in the seat.

And, for the first time in Rick and Morty history, a character bests the smartest man in the universe.

SEE ALSO: ‘Rick and Morty’ Season 3 returns with a blood-soaked ‘Mad Max’ family therapy session

“You seem to alternate between viewing your own mind as an unstoppable force and as an inescapable curse. And I think it’s because the only truly unapproachable concept for you is that it’s your mind within your control,” therapist Dr. Wong tells him. “You chose to become a pickle. You are the master of your universe, and yet you are dripping with rat blood and feces.”

Before their time runs out, Dr. Wong tries one more appeal: “The bottom line is, some people are okay going to work [in therapy], and some people well, some people would rather die. Each of us gets to choose.”

For Harmon, this scene was the most clear demonstration of his own transformation as a writer and person.

“I don’t know if I could’ve written that two years ago,” he said. “Two years ago, I would’ve made sure Rick got the final word.” For once, he didn’t. 

This is sad: Dan Harmon recently got divorced, so this is Rick and Morty Season 2 Credits vs Season 3 http://pic.twitter.com/P2UizjHmWU

— Chandler Balli (@CinematicEX) April 3, 2017

“I wanted to make sure Dr. Wong’s response came from a place of, ‘well, don’t let yourself off the hook — just because you’re mad and alone. That doesn’t make you above other people who just want to get better. And it doesn’t make you beneath them, either.'”

In Season 3, Rick and Morty managed to pull off its biggest, darkest turn of all. To the utter shock of an audience desensitized to all things blood, guts, and abject atheism, the show transformed from one of infinite comedic cleverness, into one of equal and biting emotional intelligence.

The human heart at the center of the Mr. Poopy Butthole

“It feels like we swam the English Channel, got across, then somebody said: ‘that was amazing how you outran that shark that was trying to eat you,'” Harmon said in reference to Rick and Morty‘s  explosion into popularity. “It’s just like… ‘what? No, I was trying to swim the English Channel.'”

He paused to reconsider. “Actually, it’s the opposite: you were swimming away from a shark, and then told you coincidentally swam the English Channel.”

For a show with an ethos that insists it does not care about people, the world, or the senseless pain it inflicts — Rick and Morty understands human nature in a way that few other shows do.

Addressing a popular fan debate over the source of their mad scientist’s drinking problem, Harmon noted that he remembered Roiland saying that “the day we find out the ‘one’ reason why Rick drinks, the show’s over. Because nobody drinks for one reason.”

He added, “I mean, none of your friends have origin stories, either. Real people are defined by their own undefinability. Out of all the unreal things, I think the most real thing about Rick is that you don’t know what makes him tick or where he’s coming from.”

The humanity and cruelty of Pickle Rick

Image: adult swim

We can make guesses. Like with our own family members, we can take Rick at his word when he says “as far as Grandpa’s concerned, you’re both pieces of shit!” Or we can see him for what he is: a walking contradiction, like the rest of us, with all the redeeming and irredeemable qualities that make us human.

Perhaps the most central question driving the tension of Rick and Morty throughout the course of the series is whether or not Rick actually loves his grandson (or is even capable of love at all). But much like our real-world relationships, the answer is a double-edged sword.

“If you really really loved someone, and [like Rick] also knew the universe was a meaningless gaping mouth waiting to eat innocent life alive — it could take the form of telling that person over and over again that they mean nothing. That you don’t care about them,” Harmon points out.

If you’re a person who’s ever lived, breathed, and dared to try and connect with another person, that internal conflict likely carries an unsettling resonance.

Ironically, it’s not the surreal circus of infinite multiverses, microverses, interdimensional space travel, alien planets, sex robots, Mr. Poopy Buttholes, or even Birdpeople that makes Rick and Morty stand out.

Instead — more than any other drama, comedy, or live action show before it — the most unprecedented thing the show ever did was to further commit to its stark, unvarnished realism.

WATCH: The major differences between Logan and Old Man Logan from the Marvel Universe

Read more: http://ift.tt/2xPRZ9w

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2yu5pYH via Viral News HQ

#IFTTT #Viral News HQ

[arcanakrp-blog]

SONG MOONSOO – THE DEVIL. AGENT 15.

                                                   [   FILE TYPE: CLASSIFIED   ]

//: LOADING PROFILE: SONG MOONSOO ...

international age: 24 birthplace: okpodong, geoje, south korea arcana: the devil team number: three

//: LOADING MUTATION: PERSUASION ...

application one: enhanced charisma — seemingly intrinsically wound within the power of persuasion is enhanced charisma. with the way moonsoo’s words are intertwined with power, it pushes him into an assumed leadership position from the standpoint of those around him (despite the fact that he doesn’t necessarily possess the qualities of a good leader, despite the fact that he wouldn’t be a very good leader), that is, people will generally side with moonsoo’s opinion in an argument or choice due to this power, as it enables him to create an artificial sense of trust or loyalty in the moment. however, there is an innate draw to him, a mysterious way that he can command attention and push people into doing what he wants, following his orders without them realizing outright they may not be doing it of their own free will (at least not at first). there’s a charm, a charismatic way he’s able to hold himself. it seems to come with the territory, an assurance that he’ll get what he wants, paired with the ability to make it happen. he’s as appealing as a state of the art conman, a predisposition for reshaping himself, for acting, for persuading people into believing whatever ruse he wants them to. because of this there is a magnetic quality to his personality. he’s able to draw people in without necessarily trying to do so, and can be incredibly convincing (even without the use of commands to persuade people).

application two: command inducement — much as the name suggests, moonsoo is able to push people into following commands. this is done through speech, and must be phrased as an order. once hearing an order, an individual will have an unstoppable compulsion to follow through with it, to the point where they cannot physically stop themselves, even if they do not wish to. when following through with a command, they will be entirely focused on it, to the point where they wouldn’t be able to protest or plead with him. it’s usually not realized that what they have done is not by their own free will until the command has been completed. they do not fall into a trance so much as they’re wholly consumed with the idea o fulfilling what was asked of them, to the point where they may become frantic or violent if someone else tries to stop them before the order is carried out

application three: truth inducement — moonsoo has the ability to coax truth out of people, though again, this must be done through speech. if people are not expecting his powers, or do know know much about them or how to handle the effects of them, often they will immediately provide the truth without him needing to be explicit about it. granted, if an individual knows about his powers there’s a technicality wherein they can talk around what he’s requesting, such as, if moonsoo were to ask what someone did that afternoon and they only told him part of their itinerary, that would technically be the truth (just not all of it). this is remedies by him being more specific in his question/command combinations, so the above example could be amended as “tell me everything you did this afternoon in chronological order, without leaving anything out” since the command is so specific, the truth would be pulled from them without being allowed to ‘talk around’ whatever information moonsoo is searching for

overall strengths and weaknesses: — moonsoo’s powers, when he’s in a position to use them freely, are rather daunting. he can persuade and command people into doing his bidding. these commands can range, from something inconsequential to something life changing (or ending). when moonsoo had first adopted his powers, the step from a small request to a large one had been difficult. the more intense the request, the more energy it took from him. headaches, bloody noses, dizziness. these are all things he can still feel, but due to training thus far under ARC, this doesn’t happen with a large command anymore. however, he does adopt these symptoms when he’s commanding more than one person. large groups are far more difficult for him to command all at once – though getting them to trust him due to his charisma is far more easy, and something he often opts for if given the opportunity. though if, for whatever reason, he finds it necessary to give a command to a group, especially if the command is something larger, something they would not necessarily do themselves (such as getting a group of people to fight each other unprovoked), this can cause the above symptoms, with a possibility for moonsoo to pass out if the group is big enough (at the moment, it’s been observed through testing that he may be liable to pass out if the group is larger than twenty to twenty-five people). this means that sometimes he needs to find ways to isolate clusters of people on jobs.

another weakness that is easily observed is the fact that moonsoo needs to be able to speak, as the commands are carried out vocally. if for some reason he cannot speak (for example, being gagged, being submerged in water, etc.) then there is no way for him to give a command. relating to this, the receiver of the command needs to be able to hear moonsoo. if they are able to block his speech, then the commands cannot take effect, there is an added layer to this, where if the individual cannot understand moonsoo, the command also does not hold. thus, he needs to speak in a language that they know (this has prompted additional language training under ARC, though mostly in regards to phrases and commands they deem necessary for him to know considering that the time needed to learn a language fluently is not something they can allow for when they want to take multiple language possibilities into account. he’s more so memorized phrases than language acquisition).

there is also a time limitation in regards to his powers. thus far, it seems as if the length that people will follow his orders is around a full day (so fluctuating between 22 to 26 hours). this means that if moonsoo were to command someone to “sit down and don’t move” they would do so for that frame of time, though the effects of his power would start to wear off near the end (such as perhaps being able to move their fingers around the ten hour mark, or arms and feet around the twenty hour mark, and finally being able to get up and move after twenty-four hours). granted, a few of the researchers at ARC seem confident he can lengthen this time span with more training.

as stated, it can be possible to 'work around’ moonsoo’s orders or commands as long as they’re technically fulfilling what he asks (such as giving a partial answer), but if moonsoo is very explicit in his commands, then this is easily remedied for him. additionally, moonsoo’s powers are not 'always active,’ instead, he has control over when he decides to insert his power into his speech. granted, this is in some way connected to his emotions, and so if he gets incredibly angry or upset, he’s far more likely to use his powers unbidden, or without realizing it, due to his mental state (though when he first discovered his powers, it was hard for him to figure out how to bend them to his complete control, and he had a number of accidents concerning using his powers when he didn’t mean to)

//: LOADING HISTORY ..

PRE-MUTATION

there are memories that linger in the back of moonsoo’s head. inescapable memories, haunting memories that slip down around his neck like a noose, pulled taught until he’s left breathless with panic. his childhood is fractured, something he’s been trying to outrun since he was fourteen, stuffing his backpack full of clothes and packs of ramen and attempting to runaway to a new town, a new life, to find himself someone new to be. it never came to fruition, and even still, no matter how far or long moonsoo runs he can’t seem to escape himself. can’t seem to escape his past. moonsoo hadn’t grown up in geoje, but he’d moved there young enough that it felt like he had. his parents had gone through a messy divorce after his father found prospective business deals along with a new secretary that was fresh out of university. a grim situation, but she had never been a guiltless party either. self-centered and forgetful, spent money faster than she could stumble upon it. it was a mess of a marriage, and it was no surprise they created a mess of a son between them.

in most cases, parents fight over who keeps the child. in most cases, the child is desirable, deemed an asset. at seven moonsoo learned he was neither of those things as he listened to his parents argue loud through the walls about who he’d be saddled with. in the end it was deemed that he would remain with his mother, and without the heft of her husband’s income supporting her, moonsoo’s mother decided to move back home, and they ended up cramped inside of moonsoo’s grandmother’s house. it wasn’t a terrible move, just a new setting. the noise of the city had been whisked from his life and replaced with something different, a house on the outskirts of a city far smaller than he had grown up in, with the scent of salt from the ocean hanging in the air. moonsoo found a band of friends and spent hazy summer nights out wandering and letting adventures climb to new heights through imagined terrors and stories of make believe. moonsoo never learned to outgrow that phase of his life though, the pretending. it transformed over the years though, from sticks into swords into forcefully believing that everything in his life was okay, that he was okay. that everything was under control.

the divide in his life was clear enough, it came when he was twelve and his mother found a new man to marry. he held down a steady job at daewoo shipbuilding, had enough to provide and owned a decently-sized apartment near to edges of the city in okpodong. but he was too regimented, or that’s what moonsoo believed; not the regimented that came from army training, but from a desire to grab at power, to assert it over the people around him. everything was imposed onto moonsoo, frustrations from work funneling down and twisted into orders that landed on his shoulders. not many people want to gain a child when they get married, and he wasn’t really an exception. growing up, it seemed that everything was decided for him, a plan laid out with a specific way to do things. chores, school, how he dressed, how he spent his spare time. it seemed like he couldn’t keep an original thought in his head that the man didn’t want to hammer out, explain why everything pertaining to it was wrong. why everything that had to do with him was wrong. the funny thing was, moonsoo found it hard to disagree with him.

he tried to when he got a little older for the hell of it, to try and twist his way out of his grip just to have some semblance of self to cling to. it usually ended in a black eye and a chair propped up on the other side of his bedroom door to keep him locked in the house. it was the very reason moonsoo became adept at shimmying his way out the window and climbing his way down outside the metaphorical cage of his own home to spend days, nights, wandering along the winding line of the ocean, scrambling over slippery rocks or climbing past overgrown grass up the hill of wind in an effort to find escape. it pushed him down the path of rebelling in other ways, ways that really only hurt moonsoo in the end.

at sixteen he started smoking and drinking until he was collapsed in half and spitting bile into a gutter, a little older and he’d managed to garner a reputation around the school that he was something of a playboy, though it held less than ideal weight to it. he was strange, and he was trouble. he slept around and he skipped class. despite his outlets, it still wound moonsoo up nearly manic. he wanted his freedom, he wanted to believe that he could do anything without his stepfather breathing over his shoulder and yanking him around, wanted to outrun the world and pretend that he wasn’t such a colossal fuckup. it’s near impossible to outrun the truth though, and moonsoo knows this, despite the fact that he pretends he hasn’t. despite the fact that he keeps running.

it wasn’t really a surprise when moonsoo opted out of continuing his education when he graduated. there was pressure to learn the trade, to eventually work in the shipyard as well, but honestly, it wasn’t something that he wanted to do. he’d long since been dragged under the waters of depression, he’d long since began pretending that it was normal, that he was normal and wasn’t close to snapping under the strain, the emotional abuse that was heaped onto him. so he got a job at a nearby restaurant, another helping around a stall selling seafood in the market and spent his time trying to fracture away from his stepfather’s will. hung around with his friends and tried to pretend like his life was everything he wanted it to be. it wasn’t, but it did eventually change.

POST-MUTATION

when the meteor shower came, moonsoo had been out wandering alone, wrapped up in an old sweatshirt that wreaked of smoke, busy inhaling cigarettes as he watched slashes of light scatter through the sky. the dream followed, but he’d never put too much stock in dreams. chalked it up to a little too much soju and went on with his life. but then, oddities started to occur shortly after. energy sapping and statements being followed through when they usually wouldn’t. power slipping out from underneath his tongue and winding through whoever was nearby. strange things, like his friends momentarily freezing in place when he jokingly told them to 'stop.’ or his mother spending the night with his grandmother when he told her to leave him alone. while moonsoo didn’t know exactly what was going on, he eventually stitched together his patchwork of circumstances and realized that there was something going on. a something where he could get people to do what he told them.

it had been difficult for him to try and control it, difficult for him to keep his persuasion from leaking out when he didn’t want it to, difficult to concentrate and use it consciously. he somewhat managed, but he had trouble keeping it under tabs when he flared up emotional or moody. something that became glaringly obvious when he fell into a terrible argument with his stepfather. how he was an embarrassment, how he needed a better job, how he needed to stop fucking up his life, how he needed to stop being a fuck up. how it was unsurprising he was met with a dead-end, how it was unsurprising he’d turned himself into such a terrible person, how it was unsurprising that nobody wanted him still, that his father had given him up so very easily. how his mother still spoke ill of him. perhaps unsurprising then, that when moonsoo snapped back a heated “just fucking die” he went and did just that.

moonsoo blacked out for a few days, his mother found his stepfather hanging by a noose. presumed suicide, or well, it was a suicide. but moonsoo had been the deciding factor on the matter. despite the fact that he’d hated him, that he was glad he was swept free from his life, it was hard to keep the guilt from hanging heavy against him. for all they show in movies, books, that murder is an easy thing, that human life is a disposable thing, in reality it’s hard the shake. hard to shake the vision of the man in his coffin at the funeral, hard the shake the nightmares that still plague his psyche when he falls into a fitful sleep. he’s not absolved of his sins, but he likes to pretend that they’re not there. likes to pretend that he revels in his newfound powers, his newfound control.

he does, in a sense. he uses it like a crutch to make up for the lack of control he’s experienced throughout his life. but it’s always there, at the back of his mind. he’s not a good person, he never was. he’s twisted, and retrospectively he’s realized that people have always been able to see that. a monster hiding in his chest that’s struggling to break free and consume him entirely. all he can do is keep running. so run he did. when the strange guilt and warped sense of justice became too much, he packed his bag and ran to the next town over. it had been his intention to get a job, to settle down, to try and figure things out and black out the last handful of months. but then, it was so easy to get what he wanted now. it was so easy to just open up his mouth and ask for people’s wallets. ask for pin codes to bank accounts, ask for a free room in a hotel for the night.

people listened, and he was given an insurmountable amount of control that he’d been deprived of for the majority of his life. it went to his head, but given he circumstances, it probably would have been more surprising if it didn’t. it was how the ARC caught up to him. almost-murder veiled at suicide was easy enough to go under the radar, but reports of strange, unexplained robberies were not. moonsoo had an uncanny ability to vanish despite the trouble he was in, though. all he needed were a few words to whoever caught wind of what he was doing, a simple “i didn’t do anything wrong, i’m not the person you’re looking for” and they would believe him. at least for a day. enough time for him to find a new city, a new town to run to. the only reason he stopped was that an official at ARC finally found him, managed to keep him in place long enough to promise him answers, training, money. considering moonsoo didn’t have much to lose, he went with them back to the compound.

training started, and moonsoo managed to find a false sense of confidence, to the point where he almost completely believes it himself. he revels in his powers, revels in his control, but there’s a disconnect. a hatred, a guilt. something that grows and something he ignores simultaneously. he loves the control, loves the absolute surety that he gets to have the final say, that he can coax people into doing things that they couldn’t imagine, into spilling their closest secrets. that he can coax them into death (something that the ARC has capitalized on). blood isn’t technically on his hands, he’s very much hands off in fact, but he can still see it. it’s entirely mental. he can keep pretending that none of it is his fault, that the actions aren’t acted out by him. it’s not true, he knows this. knows he’s a weapon, knows he’s a quiet cause to destruction. he’s a little unhinged, has fallen into his own power trip and is hell bent on capitalizing on it, using it to his advantage. there’s destruction living inside of him, trying to crawl out. but it’s breaking moonsoo down in the process, hidden anxiety and self hatred, but he tries to bury it all down. moonsoo plays like he’s always in control, and he’s desperate to pretend that it’s true.

#arc.app #arc.devil #fc.lee taemin

[trendingnewsb]

The humanity at the center of ‘Rick and Morty’s’ rick-diculousness

When there's no one to blame but yourself

Image: adult swim

Like its mad scientist protagonist, at times it feels like Rick and Morty does everything in its power to remain unlikeable.

Grotesque, crass, nihilistic, confrontational, distressing, and almost insufferably up-its-own-ass intelligent — it’s actually the show’s undeniable heart (and tendency to rip it out of your chest) that grounds the sci-fi juggernaut in issues that can hit a little too close to home.

If Rick and Morty has ever made you uncomfortable, you’re not alone. And, actually, not outside the intentions of its creators.

“We always saw this show as our little darling that was supposed to have nothing to do with success, or attention, or pleasing people,” co-creator Dan Harmon recently told us. 

On those first two accounts, he and fellow mastermind Justin Roiland failed miserably.

SEE ALSO: ‘Rick and Morty’ co-creator slays trolls harassing its female writers

This season, Rick and Morty is up 81% year over year, and has become the #1 comedy on TV among adults 18-24 and adults 18-34, according to Nielsen’s Live+7 ratings — putting it ahead of primetime favorites like The Big Bang Theory and Modern Family. The critical praise for Rick and Morty remains damn near unanimous. 

As the Season 3 finale approaches on Sunday, Oct. 1, it appears Rick and Morty has transitioned from cult favorite into full-on cultural phenomenon in just a few months, since the premiere in April.

But the metamorphosis goes far beyond ratings. Over the course of the season, we watched a show that did all it could to alienate itself from everyone turn into a show that’s about as personal and intimate as a nightmarish Thanksgiving at granny’s house.

The familiarity that grounds Rick and Morty‘s universe(s)

Since Day 1, the series has reveled in an unrelenting, disconcerting kind of honesty. But when Season 3 promised to be the “darkest” one yet, no one really understood what that meant. More gore, presumably — plus the soul-crushing existential dread we’ve come to know and love.

Then the premiere finally aired. Both gore and existentialism abound in Rick’s annihilation of not one but two planetary systems of governance. But the most disturbing twist of all in “The Rickshank Redemption” cut deeper than even species-wide genocide.

A scene all too familiar to anyone who’s attended a family dinner

Image: adult swim

And it took place in the family garage, without a drop of blood being spilled.

Mere seconds after Beth declares she’ll never let her father come between her and Jerry’s marriage again, the devil himself portals back into her life uninvited. 

“Guess who dismantled the government?” he declares as an apology for abandoning his daughter (again).

Without so much as a blink, Beth wrestles out of her husband’s embrace to crawl back into daddy’s arms like a beaten puppy to its abuser. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“I never will, baby.”

From there on out, we can only watch in horror as Grandpa Rick’s reign of terror takes hold of the house. Having manipulated Jerry out of the picture, Rick reveals his psychotic plan to his grandson — globs of alcohol-induced spittle flying from his deranged mouth: 

“I’ve rep[burps]laced them both as the de facto patriarch of your family and your universe. Your mom wouldn’t have accepted me if I came home without you and your sister, so now you know the real reason I rescued you. Oh! I just took over the family, Morty!”

Yup. Definitely getting darker.

How Season 3 transcended itself (by accident)

To anyone who’s ever been a member of a family, these scenes of dysfunction feel unshakeable.

You know this man, the de facto patriarch, who manipulates himself into the center of everyone’s universe, only to abandon them at every opportunity. Or perhaps you know his daughter, wine glass perpetually in hand, struggling to fit a role she never suited, while enjoying herself most with the poor robotic approximations of her children programmed to emote only supportive affirmations toward her behavior. 

SEE ALSO: ‘Rick and Morty’ went super Freudian in ‘Pickle Rick’ and it was perfection

Maybe you’re the kids, watching helplessly from the backseat, as the insurmountable truth that none of the adults know what the fuck they’re doing dawns on you. That, in fact, nobody knows what the fuck they’re doing.

The psychological damage stemming from the collapse of their traditional family unit ripples through nearly every episode of Season 3 with stinging authenticity. The sci-fi premises that used to define the show’s boldness have become more of a backdrop, as week to week the tragedy of a family fighting to put their ill-fitting, broken pieces back together unfolds. Only to fail. Again and again.

Rick and Morty has become one of the starkest portraits of familial love, and our endless capacity to care for and destroy the people we’re closest to — often simultaneously.

This shift has surprised perhaps no one more than the show’s own creators.

“If anything we were trying get back to basics,” Harmon said. “We were just chasing the initial dream — that joy of infinite possibilities that we got from Season 1… and I guess along the way we screwed up and made Breaking Bad instead.”

Whether intentional or not, the numbers don’t lie. Rick and Morty is striking a cord of universality that it never has before. But in typical Rick and Morty fashion, that universality doesn’t come from any place of comfort.

It stems from the shared agony of being alive, and stumbling through the illogical reality of human existence.

The two major emotional themes of the season have personal relevance to Harmon in particular. For one, in between Season 2 and 3, he started going through his own divorce. For another, he got himself into therapy.

“In previous seasons, the height of my introspection had to do with how angry I was at NBC. Or humankind in general,” he said, referring to his disastrous experience as the creator of the beloved but niche NBC show, Community. “The big shift [of Season 3] is that I don’t have anything to be angry at, except myself.”

In one of Harmon’s favorite episodes of the season, “Pickle Rick,” the once infallible and all-powerful patriarch can be seen on a therapist’s couch. Having turned himself into a literal pickle to avoid dealing with the damage he’s inflicted on his own family, Rick looks positively dwarfed in the seat.

And, for the first time in Rick and Morty history, a character bests the smartest man in the universe.

SEE ALSO: ‘Rick and Morty’ Season 3 returns with a blood-soaked ‘Mad Max’ family therapy session

“You seem to alternate between viewing your own mind as an unstoppable force and as an inescapable curse. And I think it’s because the only truly unapproachable concept for you is that it’s your mind within your control,” therapist Dr. Wong tells him. “You chose to become a pickle. You are the master of your universe, and yet you are dripping with rat blood and feces.”

Before their time runs out, Dr. Wong tries one more appeal: “The bottom line is, some people are okay going to work [in therapy], and some people well, some people would rather die. Each of us gets to choose.”

For Harmon, this scene was the most clear demonstration of his own transformation as a writer and person.

“I don’t know if I could’ve written that two years ago,” he said. “Two years ago, I would’ve made sure Rick got the final word.” For once, he didn’t. 

This is sad: Dan Harmon recently got divorced, so this is Rick and Morty Season 2 Credits vs Season 3 http://pic.twitter.com/P2UizjHmWU

— Chandler Balli (@CinematicEX) April 3, 2017

“I wanted to make sure Dr. Wong’s response came from a place of, ‘well, don’t let yourself off the hook — just because you’re mad and alone. That doesn’t make you above other people who just want to get better. And it doesn’t make you beneath them, either.'”

In Season 3, Rick and Morty managed to pull off its biggest, darkest turn of all. To the utter shock of an audience desensitized to all things blood, guts, and abject atheism, the show transformed from one of infinite comedic cleverness, into one of equal and biting emotional intelligence.

The human heart at the center of the Mr. Poopy Butthole

“It feels like we swam the English Channel, got across, then somebody said: ‘that was amazing how you outran that shark that was trying to eat you,'” Harmon said in reference to Rick and Morty‘s  explosion into popularity. “It’s just like… ‘what? No, I was trying to swim the English Channel.'”

He paused to reconsider. “Actually, it’s the opposite: you were swimming away from a shark, and then told you coincidentally swam the English Channel.”

For a show with an ethos that insists it does not care about people, the world, or the senseless pain it inflicts — Rick and Morty understands human nature in a way that few other shows do.

Addressing a popular fan debate over the source of their mad scientist’s drinking problem, Harmon noted that he remembered Roiland saying that “the day we find out the ‘one’ reason why Rick drinks, the show’s over. Because nobody drinks for one reason.”

He added, “I mean, none of your friends have origin stories, either. Real people are defined by their own undefinability. Out of all the unreal things, I think the most real thing about Rick is that you don’t know what makes him tick or where he’s coming from.”

The humanity and cruelty of Pickle Rick

Image: adult swim

We can make guesses. Like with our own family members, we can take Rick at his word when he says “as far as Grandpa’s concerned, you’re both pieces of shit!” Or we can see him for what he is: a walking contradiction, like the rest of us, with all the redeeming and irredeemable qualities that make us human.

Perhaps the most central question driving the tension of Rick and Morty throughout the course of the series is whether or not Rick actually loves his grandson (or is even capable of love at all). But much like our real-world relationships, the answer is a double-edged sword.

“If you really really loved someone, and [like Rick] also knew the universe was a meaningless gaping mouth waiting to eat innocent life alive — it could take the form of telling that person over and over again that they mean nothing. That you don’t care about them,” Harmon points out.

If you’re a person who’s ever lived, breathed, and dared to try and connect with another person, that internal conflict likely carries an unsettling resonance.

Ironically, it’s not the surreal circus of infinite multiverses, microverses, interdimensional space travel, alien planets, sex robots, Mr. Poopy Buttholes, or even Birdpeople that makes Rick and Morty stand out.

Instead — more than any other drama, comedy, or live action show before it — the most unprecedented thing the show ever did was to further commit to its stark, unvarnished realism.

WATCH: The major differences between Logan and Old Man Logan from the Marvel Universe

Read more: http://ift.tt/2xPRZ9w

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2yu5pYH via Viral News HQ

#IFTTT #Viral News HQ