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xoruffitup · 5 years

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Burn This 7/14: Final Show Recap

Burn This is over and I’m a mess of feels. This play has gifted me with four solid months of incredible performances, late NYC nights with friends both new and old I will treasure forever, and short but beautiful moments of dreams coming true at stage door. The final performance was overwhelming, hysterical, and oh so bittersweet.

First – A conclusive update about the letter book! After Adam didn’t come out to stage door on Friday or Saturday (understandable tbh because both nights had giant, rowdy crowds), the crowd was absolutely MASSIVE on Sunday after the last matinee. People were pushing, crowding, yelling Adam’s name and it was absolute madness. When Adam got down to me, the crowd was literally pushing in from every angle and there were about ten people reaching their Playbills out to him around my head, but I just started talking. Given the manic atmosphere I only had time to get out something like: “I’ve seen the show several times and had incredible dialogues about it. This is a collection of messages from people about what the show meant to them.” Adam literally could not stop moving or else the crowd would have caged him in, but he looked back at me, still listening, and when one of the security guys took the book Adam looked straight at me to acknowledge and thank me! Both he and the security guard assured me it would get to him. I didn’t get to explain it fully but I think he understood what it was and the book will speak for itself!

This is the cover I made for the collection:

You can see me hand over the white laminated book right at the beginning of this video, and Adam look back to say thank you.

My friend next to me also took this video where he looks back at me for half a second :’D And gives a tiny smile! (in the middle of that pandemonium, poor bb)

vimeo

Let me quickly say a big THANK YOU to everyone who contributed. <3 After that insane crowd at stage door, those wholesome, thoughtful messages about his work in this play would be the perfect remedy. Thank you so much to all of you for taking the time to write out appreciation for everything he gives us. :’)

NOW, the show!

Okay so firstly, the downside: I was NOT impressed by the audience. A lot of people seemed to have seen the show before (not that I’m judging, clearly) but were laughing CONSTANTLY at everything Adam did. To the point where you couldn’t even hear his lines half the time, and the audience failed to grow appropriately somber in the moments when he falls apart. Not a very courteous audience at all.

But the cast!!!! There were some poignant moments when it really seemed to be their real emotions coming through, bleeding into the way they played certain scenes. During the infamous, always-entertaining exchange in Act 2 while Adam’s sitting on the couch in the robe asking “Who’s the apple and who’s the orange? You never had an apple tart glazed with orange marmalade?” I SWEAR there was a second where that grin was all him, having an absolute ball of a time. When he said “who’s the orange?” he literally kicked his feet up like an overexcited little kid and it was THE. PUREST.

Okay so in the interest of remembering as much as I can, I’ll go in order from the beginning!

First, a bit of textual analysis. Every time I see the play, I’m struck by how incongruous the first twenty minutes seem in comparison to the rest. I know that’s on purpose, because Pale’s entrance is very much supposed to shake up and tear into Anna’s world with pure chaos – turning everything on its head. But knowing everything that’s going to come after, all the lofty discussion in that first scene about myths and epic love tropes all seems terribly self-aware. It’s more than foreshadowing. It literally seems to be a self-narrating framing device for everything that’s about to follow after:

“The wives of the sailors out at sea. The women waiting for years and the men never coming back. What sustains them through loss? Through pain? I think they felt things in a more profound way.”

Robbie is never coming back, and Anna is searching for something inside herself – some feeling – in order to push through this mess of grief and frustration that she can’t make sense of even to herself. She has a shell around herself at the beginning, and nothing to break through it or guide her way; no direction.

“The Flying Dutchman – Senta throwing herself into the sea to save the Dutchman from perdition.” (I mean come on – In this story Senta literally “has this boyfriend hanging around” getting in the way of the epic love and this couldn’t be more meta if it tried.)

Knowing what’s to come, it’s striking that Anna doesn’t seem to realize she is the real subject of conversation here, not Burton’s lofty novel ideas. Even a mere ten minutes after she recounted the funeral where she swore she was expected to “throw herself over the casket” – she doesn’t seem to relate herself to the story about Senta hurling herself into a watery grave because of the love and loss of a man.

In some performances, I think Anna is closed off because she’s purposely trying to avoid such a fate for herself. After losing Robbie, she doesn’t want to “sacrifice herself” through deep connection to another person ever again – Not even to Robbie’s memory as she refuses to give in and confront her grief. And hence her resistance to starting a real relationship with Pale. In other performances, it seems that she’s genuinely blind to the walls she has put up around both herself and her own emotions. You can see the walls in her physical body language – How she always seems to be sitting in defensive, closed-off positions when Burton tries to get near her. (Contrast that with how she literally wraps herself around Pale while he’s crying on that same couch later.)

Anyway, I just find it incredibly cool that what at first seems to be snobby, “arty” (to take Pale’s word) aimless talk at the beginning is actually all the characters indirectly reflecting on everything that’s about to happen to them – to Anna, particularly. This same exact self-examination resumes in the first lines of Act 2, when Anna finishes reading Burton’s draft script.

“It’s so sad.” “I thought they were having fun.” “But beneath it all, they’re so lonely.”

There it is – The deceptively simple three lines that sum up the entire play and spell out the tragic beauty of Pale and Anna’s relationship.

OKAY I’ll stop with the analysis now. On to the details everyone cares about!

So when Adam charged out, holy shit his voice sounded SHOT. It took a good few minutes for his yelling to warm up enough for his voice to stop sounding completely hoarse. It clearly cracked a few times and I just wanted to brew him some tea. (A pot, of course, because a cup wouldn’t even be economical…)

But by around the time he got to my favorite, side-splitting monologue about imagining you’re a tree and you get made into toilet paper or money to get passed around or parchment for a restaurant or music paper for the Boss to write on… but either way you end up drifting down to get stuck in some Saudi Arabian oil tank propellers. (Bending down and spinning his arms like propellers and cue me absolutely falling apart each and every time.) …. His voice finally sounded fine by then! :D

I’ve forgotten to write this in previous posts, but in plays I always LOVE moments when the actors come right to the front of the stage and just stand there for a long moment, wordless and motionless, just staring out into the theatre without really seeing anything, lost in the gravity of their own emotion. Keri has a moment like this before Pale’s entrance (I think when she says, “I thought everything important to the future of dance was going to happen in this room.”) Adam has his moment while Anna is talking about Robbie’s dancing, how good he was and how Pale would have liked it. Adam just stares out into infinity for a long moment, while it demands physical effort from him in order to take in what Anna’s saying. He doesn’t smile while he says, “You saw him and say he was good. I never saw him and I know he was shit.” His long moment of stillness here – finally facing the audience in close proximity and unnerving silence (a striking moment after he spent the last fifteen minutes raging around the stage and often having his back to the audience) is when you can see the very beginning of him unraveling. This is when he starts to plateau – tumbling from his coked-up high into a dark, helpless pit that cleaves him clean through.

After bitching about his pants getting ruined and putting his leg up on the sofa to show Anna, he did the most RIDICULOUS twirl this time! After slowly lifting his leg over the table, never breaking eye contact with her once, he then did this slow, melodramatic twirl - complete with extended ballet fingers and everything. It was nothing short of glorious.

After he kneeled down and screamed, he rose completely shattered. I don’t think I’ve ever heard his voice so devastated with sobs and tears – to the point where you could barely understand him. “No, I don’t do this. This ain’t me” sounded like he was begging desperately, but had no idea what for. There are a lot of stunning things Adam does in this play, but rising and sinking and rising again through these completely polar opposite, all-consuming emotional states within the span of twenty minutes has to be the most incredible. He truly embodies the transformations with his entire body – The way he paces around aggressively then helplessly, the way he spends long, silent minutes simply rubbing at the same place on his chest in pain, the way he doubles over as the brunt of his grief settles upon him like a crushing physical weight. The way he channels his very physicality to embody menacing one moment, then vulnerable and helpless the next. It’s just nothing short of breathtaking and awe-inspiring.

Okay okay, after he drops the hilarious bomb out of nowhere: “You know you got no tits at all.” And when the exchange ends with “It makes a man want to look, see how much there is” – Afterwards he just looks over at her with this hilarious, seedy smirk that was GOLD. Almost like “so is this hapless seduction working????”

Watching the couch kissing scene was, again, like being seduced yourself. He just stares at her for such a long moment before finally leaning in for it. She knows what he’s thinking – she knows what he’s going to do, and she’s completely mesmerized by the intensity of his single-minded focus; even as his hand reaches out for that gentle, tentative brush along her hair. Making sure she really wants this before he slides into it.

And then…. God, the way he delivered the lines that are some of my favorites: “Let’s start the engines real slow here. Go halfway to the city, stop for something to eat. You’ll find there’s times I’m a real good listener.”

jsdfjadlj his voice is so soft and deep, while he’s looking at her so intently, almost communicating the words with his gaze alone. He speaks so slowly and purposefully. The words themselves might be flippant in the double entendre, but there’s a sincerity behind them that wraps itself around your heart completely. You can see it wrap itself around Anna, as she falls into him completely. Every single person in the audience would probably do the exact same.

When he leaves the next morning, it never fails to make the audience crack up how he just waltzes out the door with no great to-do as he calls “Alright people, I’m outta here!”

CLASSIC.

Act 2:

After Burton flips him onto the floor and keeps yelling at him, the way Pale just rolls away onto his side and goes “Good night” all mischievous and cutesy asldfjsadlkfj. And then “Good night, Bruce!” after Burton finally leaves.

Other honorable mentions from this scene:

Pale, from offstage: What the fuck do you know?! Larry: Hmm… what do I know? That’s one of those questions you don’t know whether to answer with hubris or humility.

“Who’s Bruce Lee?!”

After Anna and Larry left the room, Pale’s fighting with his coat was extra aggressive this time. He was basically windmilling his arms as he repeatedly yanked at the back of the jacket until finally flipping it up and off and over his head.

Okay okay so I know I already talked at the beginning about the robe scene but I swear this one was EXTRA delightful. He was just grinning and cheesing all over the place at his own cleverness with the “hat trick” joke. Looking SO pleased with himself and just infuriatingly adorable for a giant brickhouse of a man in a stupid purple kimono I mean wtf!!!!

Oh and right before that! When he brought Anna the cup of tea after sabotaging her phone call with Burton and then hiding his face behind the robe sleeve all coyly, he was extra sweet about it this time :3 After handing her the mug he kissed her twice on the forehead, then just stared for a second at her grumpy face before kissing her on the nose too. (!) Then he proceeds to do the cute thing where he tucks her hair behind her ear while asking, “You want some eggs?”

Even when Anna shuts him down, the way he went over to sit on the couch, picked up his tea, then gave these awkward looks to both Anna and Larry like “welp, guess we’re all sitting together now” was sO funny. How the man can deliver such comedic effect without saying a word is beyond me.

Then, Anna starts to blow up at him. When she delivers the final, most devastating blows of “I have nothing for you. I don’t like you, and I’m frightened of you” – I’ve taken to watching Adam as the blows land. He stands there completely still and his face barely moves, and yet there’s this unmistakable, silent devastation about him. The man’s been called the “King of micro expressions” for a damn good reason. This time, after several long moments of tense, pregnant silence – He just did this minute shake of his head as he looked right at Anna. Even for all her anger, he still doesn’t really believe that she means what she’s saying. But that tiny shake of his head spoke volumes. It was almost disapproving, almost pitying, maybe a touch frustrated. While in previous performances he often seemed to be completely crushed – all spark drained from him; There was this bare, subtle moment of disbelief and lingering defiance. Disbelief that Anna was really deluding herself so thoroughly. He is so sure in this scene – while he’s telling her she’s not really afraid of him, she’s only afraid of caring and feeling something – that she feels the exact same way he does. He’s sure their connection is on equal terms; just like he’s sure it’s the only honest, true thing in either of their lives. And in this performance, rather than being crushed by Anna denying it all, he seemed more upset on her account – That she wasn’t letting her walls down to let the truth in, as he already has.

That^ is Adam Driver’s talent, ladies and gentleman. I literally just wrote a whole paragraph about one barely-perceptible nod. Damn. Okay. Give me a second here to pick up the pieces of my feels.

Okay, so I have detail-level and meta-level thoughts on the final scene from yesterday. Detail-level first: Last night was the only time I’ve ever heard Adam deliver the “That was me and you up there” line softly and earnestly, rather than pitching it into a teasing joke with “me and youuuuu up there.” Instead, he kept the tone of the scene gentle and almost timid. I adore in this scene the way he asks her about her dance piece. How at first, he’s not there for himself or even for the idea of them together. He tells her how much he enjoyed the piece, and when he says that he knew it was Robbie – that he could see Robbie in it – there is no greater or more moving praise Anna could receive. Nothing could mean more to her in this moment.

This scene is so quietly gorgeous, and it was simply spellbinding yesterday in how the tone remained so tender all the way through. Throughout the entire scene, the two of them mirrored each other with absolute perfection. A large part of that is because you can tell these are two actors who’ve been playing off each other for months and developed such keen awareness of each other’s physicality and tiniest displays of body language. Even in the way they stand at opposite sides of the stage at first – It’s like they’re tied together by invisible threads. They face each other directly – neither turned away or trying to hide – and when one moves, the other seems to respond exactly the same way. It continues once they sit down together to burn the note. From the way they sit beside each other to watch it burn, to the way they slowly turn towards each other and draw together, they move in perfect harmony and symmetry. They are tuned into each other simply effortlessly and it’s so satisfying and beautiful to watch.

At a higher scene level: It’s so lovely how different this scene feels in comparison to their explosive earlier scenes. (One with sexual energy and another with an angry fight.) There’s this feeling of undeniable rightness and ahhfinallyrelief when they’re back together for this final scene. And as they talk about Robbie through Anna’s dance piece, everything feels different. It feels peaceful for the first time, even a touch reverent as they speak with a shared understanding of each other’s loss that no one else in the whole world could take part in. While earlier in the play, discussion of their shared feelings of loss led to negative acts of self-destruction, aggressive frustration, or self-denial; this time there is finally the feeling that these two can come together and create something positive out of the loss they’ve shared. Thanks to what Pale unlocked in her, Anna’s feelings of loss that were once so unbearable she could not even face the honest thought of it, now became the fuel for an act of creation she’s been striving for her whole life. And the fact that Pale made time to come see it; the fact that he appears in her apartment and can voice so precisely her same sentiments that went into the piece – It means they’ve finally reached a place together where their connection becomes a source of creation and positive beginnings.

Adam does such beautiful acting in this scene. “I don’t know what to do with myself here. I’m 36. I’ve got a wife, two kids…” He paused here, and when he spoke again his voice quavered with feeling that simply overflowed, “I ain’t never felt anything like this.”

One of my favorite images from the whole play is when they both silently sit together on the couch, watching the note burn away in the ashtray together.

(For the first time, I thought back to Act 1 when Pale cryptically answers Anna’s question about what he does with “I’m a roving fireman. I put out fires. Sometimes… just let it burn.” In this case, perhaps this fiery thing between them would be safer if it were put out. But they watch the flames dance and dwindle together, and the warmth and light slowly growing between them is something neither of them have the will to put out.)

And then, that touching, movingly desperate final moment. After “I don’t want this” / “I don’t want it too” – when Anna sinks into his arms and he hurriedly gathers every bit of her in his lap and in his arms that he can fit. He clutches her like she’s part of his very being, rocks her, and reaches up to smooth her hair back so he can kiss her head. His voice breaks again when he confesses, “I didn’t expect nothing like this.” Another moment of desperately holding each other, until Pale half-sobs in helpless apology, “I’m gonna cry all over your hair.”

Every single time, the way Adam says it delivers a swift, sweet blow straight through the heart. Honestly, I would do anything to relive that wrenching heartache again. <33

It’s been an incredible run. I miss the show already, but I couldn’t be happier with the moving, magnificent nights I spent in the Hudson Theatre. Thank you to Adam and the whole cast for touching so many of us every night with this beautiful play. :’’) It has been such a thrilling, joyful ride!

-Until Adam’s next play!!! :)

#Adam Driver #Burn This #Burn This Broadway #driverdaily

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usapool · 4 years

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INTERVIEW WITH Cristian Surdea

MAIN MOTIVATION ?

Pure passion for the game. I play pool since 2009 - and every single session of practice makes me discover something new,

- Becoming a professional is the main motivation, that's why I follow pool - and when I play well the feeling is priceless - I can play no matter the name of my opponent.

TYPE OF MENTAL PREPARATION ?

I studied a clinic with world class player NIELS FEIJEN (Mental Game was the topic) - Try to stay positive no matter the pressure that comes during the match. It's important to also be calm and sharp in order to take the right shot selection during a match.

HOW DID YOU REACT TO THE DEFEAT OR VICTORY?

I sometimes show my feelings at the table during the match, complain to myself after a bad shot, after getting unlucky and like that. But always respect my opponent, never have bad reaction. To win against world class players is amazing, I have a lot of nice memories like that, but also lost few times HILL HILL or super close scores and have to take them, accept and move forward. A true champion will build inside everyone if will know to manage defeats first. Most important in sports - you are analyzing the process - NOT THE IMMEDIATE RESULT.

RITUAL?

Few minutes of practice before the match. Relaxed arm and confident stroke in order to enter the match well warmed-up.

ONE MUSIC ?

Robbie Williams - I love my life ---- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4ggyO-OFXU

ONE MESSAGE ?

Train hard, never quit!

AN IDOL ?

Simona Halep - example of persevearance and determination;

Shane van Boening - fantastic player and character.

I share the same date of birth with SVB - July 14th - but I am 8 years younger than him.

FEAR OR FAILURE WHEN SHOOT ?

Often happens to me. It's because I still don't play constant amount of 6-8 hours per day. Still have some small technique issues as I started playing without having a coach and learned by myself and helped by local players. Over the years improved that after going to training clinics and studying the game with Darren Appleton, Alex Lely and Niels Feijen.

BOOK YOU LIKE ABOUT BILLIARD ?

Ronnie O'Sullivan - RUNNING

HAPPY MOMENT ABOUT BILLIARD?

When I first played outside Romania - it was 2011 Open de Paris - where I beat WORLD POOL MASTER - RAJ HUNDAL from India. At that time did not know exactly who he is, was impressed when I came home and found out he was partner with RONNIE O'SULLIVAN in World Cup of Pool for England and all the other stuff.

AND SAD MOMENT ?

Last year in Bucharest I gambled a set against SVB - my idol. We played a race to 9. I was 2-7 behind, came back fantastic to go 8-7 ON THE HILL, than he broke and run and at HILL HILL we played a crazy safety battle and I finally lost.

Another cruel one I lived in 2014 in Poland against Mateusz Sniegocki when in QF of Polish Open I was leading 5-1 in a race to 7. It was for getting a medal there. Mateusz managed to comeback and won 7-5, will never forget some silly 10-Ball missed there. HAHAHAHAHA . . .

A DREAM TO BE REALIZED ?

Represent Romania one day at the World Cup of Pool.

WHAT CUE, TIP AND CHALK YOU USE?

Mezz Ace-187 cue with Alpha Hybrid shaft;

Break cue: MEZZ POWER BREAK KAI - by far the best ever break cue.

Glove and Chalk - Molinari.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT ?

FEAR - It kills us everyday if we accept it;

FAILURE - Only someone who does not work or does not try does not fail; it is normal. The motto is to always try again fail better and finally conquer what you want.

LOVE - The most important thing in life.

DEATH - The end of this beautiful journey called life. Important to prepare our souls for that, because the mind will never stop fearing it. Faith should guide ourselves to not fear death anymore and understand it better.

FRIENDSHIP - Life is great if you have a few close friends, count on someone 24/7 is important. It gives you that awesome feeling of sharing unique moments with those very few that stay around for years and years. Those persons are forever.

COVID 19 - Test of faith for all the people around the world. For some of the professional pool players - the best period to train hard - stay disciplined - stay fit. To be honest, I never played so much pool as hours/day until this period came.

8-BALL / 9-BALL / 10-BALL - Will always choose 8-Ball - as will always remember my debut at EC 8-Ball - winning in 8-Ball discipline against former world champion Daryl Peach from England.

YOUR FUTURE - I'd love becoming a professional athlete in the game of pool - playing US OPEN and other WORLD EVENTS. I have already started doing some coaching in my hometown. Would love to own a Billiard Hall and help other young players improve faster than I did. For me that would be the most important thing - to be able to give something back. As a player at my age(28), I will keep fighting forever, think I can play until 60 at least. In another order, just continuing the process., but at the highest possible level.

SUCCESS - "Set goals and crush them!" - learned from the coaching clinic with Niels Feijen.

MONEY - There is a saying: If you love money, you never gonna have them.

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filmmap · 5 years

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Atonement (2007) - film map thoughts

I usually don’t enjoy romantic tragedies. They can often be too insincere and cliched. So it’s safe to say that the number of tears I shed during my 4 AM viewing of Atonement, truly surprised me. Before we even get into the plot, acting and dialogue, this movie is visually stunning. I could’ve easily muted the sound and just stared at the screen for 123 minutes without hesitation. The 5-minute one-shot dunkirk evacuation was like a painting come to life. The beauty of the movie is only enhanced by the actors. James McAvoy and Keira Knightley make it hard to focus on anything else. They successfully pulled me into their world and took me on a journey; a terrible, heartbreaking journey. In the short time they have together, before everything starts going awfully wrong, they make me believe that they are truly made for each other. If this beautiful chemistry wasn’t established, the rest of the movie would have lost its purpose. McAvoy in particular plays Robbie, the pure-hearted, charming and lovable protagonist, with such ease that I believe everything on screen is real. I cry with him, I fume with him and I pray for him. It takes everything in me to not scream , whenever the reason for mine and Robbie’s tears appears on screen - the frustratingly confident and unknowingly self-centred Briony Tallis. Saoirse Ronan’s performance is so powerful. She manages to make the viewer simultaneously despise her and empathise with her. Having been 13 only a few years ago, I can picture myself developing a crush on a handsome, funny and caring older guy. Someone who treats me with the respect that I would’ve thought I deserved and not like a child. Of course, these illusions are shattered when he calls her a stupid child. A stupid child - two things that the 13 year old Briony does not think she is. These feelings of betrayal, jealousy and anger are normal. I can see myself feeling them. But what goes wrong with Briony is that there is no one who cares enough to understand her emotions and rationally pull her out of them. Her mother and siblings are way too caught up with their own lives to pay attention to the minor temper tantrums of an otherwise intelligent young girl. With no one establishing seeds of empathy, patience and love in Briony, she is only left with the jealousy to nurture her into the monster she becomes. Added to this is her vivid imagination, her need to be the center of attention and her desperate need to be taken seriously; to become an adult. What we are left with is a devastating lie; a lie that crosses the line between fiction and non-fiction. Saoirse’s facial expressions perfectly convey her initial infatuation with and subsequent disgust and anger at Robbie so well, that we can clearly understand the thought processes leading to those reactions. Romola Garai continues Saoirse’s performance very well, depicting an older Briony, who is now more aware. While her denials and misplaced emotions remain, they are not enough to suppress her growing guilty. Her interactions with French soldier Luc, beautifully show her first attempts at atonement, trying to make someone feel love again, in their last moments. However, Romola’s subtle and impressive performance also emphasizes how this ‘atonement’ is happening completely on Briony’s terms. She continues to be self-centered and sees Luc as another version of Robbie, still focused on making him love her. She tries to stay detached but can not help but tell the dying soldier her first name, the childish need for attention and personal validation paying a visit despite her many attempts to stop this. Even as an adult, played by Vanessa Redgrave, she believes she has achieved atonement by giving Robbie and Cecilia the ending they deserved in her novel. She still takes pleasure in being able to control the lives of others and places herself on a moral high ground. She also waits till the very last minute to write this story so that she doesn’t have to face the consequences of her confession when she still has a consciousness that would lead her to feeling guilt. The saddest part is that she genuinely believes this is enough. These 3 brilliant actresses build a multi-dimensional Briony Tallis who is the reason for the audience’s frustrations and laments. She is no doubt an antagonist. But what makes Briony special is her humanity. We can clearly see where things started going wrong but we are helpless as we watch this monster grow.

With performances as in-depth as this, it’s easy to push certain elements of the movie to the background. While we are busy seething with contempt at Briony, the true evil in this story lurks in the shadows. Sure, Briony was wrong to lie, but she was a confused, misguided and neglected child who continues to make a series of mistakes. Paul Marshall, is the one who committed an evil act, fully conscious and fully aware of what he was doing. He inflicts violence and pain on a young girl, all for the need of power. What makes him truly evil is that he still continues to live a happy life, with a successful business and a marriage with the girl he assaulted. He does not even have a hint of the remorse and guilt felt by Briony, for commiting a crime that is unforgivable and unjustifiable. Benedict Cumberbatch, again delivers a solid performance. Despite the limited screen time, he made me uncomfortable every time he was present. He is present enough for us to notice him and but just absent enough for us to forget about what he did and focus on Briony instead. I think this is exactly what would happen in real life. The public would much rather focus on a false accusation made by a 13 year old girl rather than the assault committed by a grown man.

Atonement leaves us with a bitter taste on our tongues. It leaves us mourning what could have been. It’s a movie that has tattooed its presence on my brain. I will continue thinking about Robbie and what could’ve been for years to come. I am glad this movie exists.

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randomfandomimagine · 7 years

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Contradictory Feelings (Spider!Prompto x Reader)

Character: Prompto Argentum (Spider!Prompto)

Fandoms: Final Fantasy XV & Spiderman

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader, Crossover, AU, Spidey AU

Title: Contradictory Feelings

Summary: Ever since he became Spiderman, Prompto is worried that something might happen to Y/N even though he has the biggest crush on her and wants to tell her everything, but that will put her in more danger.

A/N: Ever since I started watching Marvel’s Spiderman, the one in which Robbie Daymond (Prompto’s English VA) plays Peter Parker, I wanted to write an imagine with Spider!Prompto because reasons, inspired by the amazing Spidey AU by @destiny-islanders (love your blog!). Also, I’m posting this because today is the sunshine boy’s birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PROMPTO! <3

Prompto was definitely acting strangely lately. Whether it had anything to do with me or not, I couldn’t quite tell. All I knew was that one moment he was extremely clingy and the other very absent and distant. He kept contradicting himself, it seemed as though he had an inner struggle he couldn’t get over.

And there he was at it again, taking a picture of me with his camera. Even though he had barely said a word in the entire afternoon despite the fact that we were hanging out and taking a walk around Manhattan.

I gave him a strange look, raising an eyebrow. He held my glance with an innocent smile and chuckled awkwardly.

I had enough, putting up with his odd behavior. It had been almost a week now, and I was fed up with it! I stopped walking, forcing him to do too.

“What’s with you lately, Prom?” I asked, adamantly crossing my arms over my chest.

“N-nothing!” He absently saved his camera in his pocket and bashfully scratched the back of his head. “What’re you talking about?”

“There’s something going on with you” I gave him an intense glance. “And I wanna know what”

His blue eyes suddenly widened in panic, and he urgently took me by the arm and pulled at it to get me closer to him.

“Can you not stand so close to the edge of the sidewalk?” He made a face, letting go of my arm when he realized he was still holding on to it. “You’re making me nervous!”

“And that’s other thing” I sighed, very annoyed. “You’re freaking out all the time!”

Prompto had been worrying about me a lot lately. Telling me off for not looking both sides when I crossed the road, always offering to walk me home and going crazy whenever I told him I went somewhere alone.

“This is a dangerous city! Don’t you know there are villains on the loose?”

“That’s what Spiderman is here for, right?” I eyed him cautiously, trying to figure out what was on his mind in an attempt to make sense of his restless demeanor. “Anyway, I’m not doing anything that dangerous!”

Prompto frowned in concern and averted his eyes all of a sudden at the mention of everyone’s favorite web slinger.

“He can’t be there all the time, you know?” Suddenly, his voice became sad and defeated. "Even if he wants to”

I shook my head in resignation, having contradictory feelings about him. I had been crushing on him for a while now, yet these past days I was so irritated by him.

I just couldn’t understand him anymore! I knew him so well that most of the time I could almost read his mind. But not anymore, something had changed. And I couldn’t tell what it was.

A part of me wondered whether he had found out about my crush on him, that would somewhat explain his odd behavior. But did that mean that he felt the same way or that he was trying to stay friends without building my hopes up?

I didn’t know anymore! I was so lost, it felt like I didn’t know anything!

“Prompto” I began to say, gravely but softly. “I think we need to talk, because I-“

“Y/N, watch out!!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.

At first I thought it was just another tactic to change the subject. I rolled my eyes at him, knowing he was also exaggerating everything and probably the danger he was warning me about wasn’t that dangerous after all.

I reluctantly looked to check what was threatening my life. I gulped when I realized he had been right, as a driver had lost control of its truck and it was heading my way.

“Prompt-“ I turned to him, just to realize he was gone.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as I glanced back at the truck. I had no time to get out of the way, it would squash me like a bug.

I screamed in pure terror, closing my eyes tight as I cringed and waited for the impact.

But it never came.

I opened my eyes when I felt how my feet left the ground, and I screamed again when I saw myself flying around Manhattan.

“Aaaaah! What’s going on?!” An arm was also supporting me, wrapped around my waist.

“Hold on tight, miss!” A slightly high-pitched male voice told me.

I looked to see none other than Spiderman. The Spiderman! It was the first time I saw him in person, and definitely the first time I was so close to him! He was quite a presence.

“Spidey!” I urgently wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on to him for dear life as he was the only thing keeping me in place as we swung on his webs all around the city. “You saved me!”

“No biggie” He replied, still too busy swinging around to glance at me.

I gasped, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins. My heart was racing, and my stomach turned with the vertiginous sensation that had to be similar to actually flying.

The wind made my hair float behind me as we rushed through the air, it was an indescribable feeling. Was that how Spidey always felt? It was exhilarating!

We finally landed on a rooftop, and he was kind enough to hold on to me just for a few more seconds after my feet touched the ground. I had definitely lost the sense of gravity a little.

“You okay?” He asked me, attentively staring at me.

His voice sounded familiar… Very familiar.

“Yeah, thanks for saving my life!”

“You’re welcome!”

I stared at him in silence, rummaging through my head and trying to pinpoint where I had heard that voice before. Perhaps it was the shock and the rush of what just happened, but my mind was working slower than usual.

Yet that voice was so familiar! Almost like I had heard it every day of my…

“Hey, you sure you’re okay?” He reached out for me, ready to hold me up if my strength failed me. “You seem a little dizzy… and pale”

I definitely felt quite faint when I was hit with realization. When I finally realized who that familiar voice belonged to.

I pictured a pair of vibrant blue eyes behind that mask, a disheveled and slightly spiky mop of fluffy blond hair. Adorable freckles over his cute nose. A bright smile and some soft pink lips.

Prompto.

Of course his voice was familiar! I had just heard it, and it belonged to my best friend! To the boy I had a massive crush on.

“Hey…” He insisted worriedly, gently shaking my shoulder.

“A-actually…” I finally got back to reality, slowly getting used to the idea that Prompto was Spiderman. “I… Can I ask you something?”

“Sure!”

“You… help people, right? Not only saving them, you always try to help”

“Uh-huh…” He was definitely confused, and curious about what I was getting at.

“And you’re smart and stuff so… I could ask you for advice?” A little lightbulb turned on in my head when I got an idea.

Surely I had no proof that Prompto was Spiderman other than my instinct. And even if Spidey’s voice sounded like Prom’s, I still couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. So maybe I could take a different approach to confirm my suspicion.

It definitely made sense that, upon becoming Spiderman, Prompto was cautious about approaching me too much so I didn’t discovered his secret.

But I wanted to see what the webhead had to say for himself.

“Y-yeah!” He exclaimed, confidently closing his arms.

I observed him carefully for a brief moment before I kept talking. I just wanted to try and recognize any of his gestures, see the boy behind the costume.

I found myself needing a few more seconds to speak up, needing to gulp and take a deep breath. I was about to confess my feelings to him, whether he was actually Prompto or not.

“I… have this huge crush on my best friend Prompto…” I analyzed his reaction, and I noticed his eyes grew wide as the red mask stretched out a bit. It made me think that he might have blushed even if I couldn’t see his cheeks. “But he’s acting very strange lately, and I don’t know why”

“S-strange?” That voice had to be his, high-pitched and shy and stuttery and all! It had to be. “What do you mean by ‘strange’?”

“Well, he’s very worried about me and constantly making sure I’m safe” I averted my gaze, feigning thoughtfulness, but observed him with the corner of my eyes. He seemed nervous. “But the next thing I know he’s avoiding me like I don’t even exist!”

“Heh” That awkward chuckle was so Prompto as well. “Maybe he has contradictory feelings”

“About what?” Spiderman seemed to back up slightly when my eyes unexpectedly landed on him again.

“Maybe he likes you too and doesn’t know how to act around you…”

“But I have contradictory feelings too and don’t drive him crazy!”

Defeated, he hung his head low and sighed.

“I don’t know what to tell you, miss” He shrugged, shy and awkward. “I’m just... your friendly neighborhood Spiderman”

He turned around and proceeded to leave me there alone, ready to shoot his webs and swing around the tall buildings of New York.

“Wait, Spidey” I held him by the arm, hoping I wasn’t making a fool out of myself.

I was almost certain that the boy that hid under that mask was Prompto, it only made sense! It explained everything!

His strange behavior, his sudden concern about me, his disappearances, his lame excuses, his lateness… everything!

He cautiously looked over his shoulder to me, patiently listening to what I had to say.

“If Prompto happened to be here right now…” I slowly said, trying to make it obvious that I had figured it out so he would know. “Do you think he’d tell me something?”

The both of us froze. It made me think that he would run away immediately, but he didn’t.

“As in…” There came his soft, serious voice. “If he… were Spiderman and were standing in front of you?”

“Yes, exactly”

“I think he’d tell you that he’s scared out of his mind that telling you his secret can get you in danger” I could literally hear him gulp as he lowered his head again and glued his glance to the ground. “And that he likes you so much that… he’s worried that something might happen to you because of him”

He was always so caring… it warmed my heart to know he worried so much, that he loved me so much too.

“It will be alright, Prom” Gingerly, I took ahold of his mask. He flinched for a moment, but then let me lift it up to his nose to reveal his lips. “I have Spiderman to protect me, no less”

Inching painfully slow towards him, I brushed my lips against his. My heart raced again, almost as fast as when I was swinging through the air with him.

He leaned into the kiss and sighed softly before pulling away. Then, Spidey lifted his mask above his eyes to reveal his face.

I chuckled in relief and awe when I confirmed that it was Prompto.

I pursed my lips together not to laugh when I realized he was blushing really hard. But then again, so was I, probably.

“I… I can’t be there always, y’know?” He said again, repeating the words also like Spiderman and not only as Prompto Argentum.

“I know I’m no Spiderwoman…” I teased him, grinning widely. “But I’m not completely useless myself, y’know?”

That finally got him to smile his beautiful and bright smile. And he seemed to finally relax.

“But you gotta be careful… I don’t like to put you in danger, and now that you know…”

“I’ll take care of myself”

“You don’t understand, Y/N! If my enemies find out that you-“

“They won’t”

“But what if they do?! I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you! With great power comes great responsibility, and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe, especially now that you know who I really am and-“

Wanting him to stop frantically rambling, I placed a hand in his nape and pushed him closer to me. This time our lips met more urgently, and the exchange was more passionate and definitely longer.

Prompto sighed almost unnoticeably, serene and content, and so did I.

His hands timidly rested in the small of my back while my arms wrapped around his neck to deepen the kiss.

We only broke away when we heard a distant police siren that made us lock eyes.

Prompto dedicated me a concerned expression as his blue eyes intently watched me and his brows furrowed in doubt.

“Go get ‘em, tiger” I encouraged him, proud that my… boyfriend? Was Spiderman.

He showed me a lopsided grin and put his mask back on. Then he shot one of his webs and flew off to save the day.

YOU CAN ALSO READ MY IMAGINE ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PROMPTO!’ SINCE TODAY IT’S HIS DAY. MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE POSTED THAT IMAGINE TODAY, BUT I WANTED TO DO SOMETHING A BIT MORE SPECIAL LIKE THIS CROSSOVER :P

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quarantinemansionofficial · 4 years

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Prologue

“Okay,” Principal Tucker started. “Let’s do a roll call to make sure everybody’s here?”

The eight boys nodded. They were all in the Principal’s office which they all barely managed to fit in.

Five minutes ago, they were all called to go there through the school’s intercom. But it was not explained why they were beckoned. Yet.

Principal Tucker cleared her throat and called, “Emalia, Mason?”

“Here,” replied a tall blonde, standing from his seat just to show respect. He wasn’t usually this polite. He was one of the troublemakers at their school. To prove it, he lit fireworks at their school’s pep rally “just to have a little fun.” If he wasn’t the star player at their basketball team, he would’ve been dismissed by Coach already.

“Jackso-”

“Hello!” waved a “unique”-looking boy who sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. He had piercings almost everywhere: two on his lower lip, a stud on his right eyebrow, three on his right ear, and five on his left ear. He was troublemaker number two, but different. Aside from helping Mason smuggle fireworks into school, he also helps him with “other situations.” Let’s just say that he’s a sly Beta who knows his way into every man’s undies. Rumor has it that he once slept with one of the teachers, who of which was at least three times older than him.

Principal Tucker cleared her throat again, trying her best not to get upset with how she was rudely cut off and called “Emmet, Lee?”

“Present!” replied a strawberry blonde-haired almost-midget in a small voice (he somehow managed to find a seat far away from the others where he could still be seen). He’s always been humiliated because of his appearance: small and dorky. But behind all that, he’s a genius with grades off the charts. His GPA may have been even higher than Jax on ecstasy. He was raised to act this way by his father, who he rarely talks about. Though everybody admired how far ahead he is academically, they wouldn’t think the same when it came to his personality. He could be a real jerk if you got on his nerves, but it would be hilarious if you blew his fuse. His voice would get all squeaky and high, like an angry mouse.

“Blueburn, Isaac?”

“Here!” smiled an adorable Omega who you would probably mistake as a peanut. He was the school’s sweetheart, the nicest person you’ll ever meet. He’s made friends with almost everyone in the building because he’s just too nice, it’s frightening. Lee somehow dislikes him, and Blue has no idea why.

“Otto, William?”

“Present, Ma’am,” answered a well-built senior who’d make you want to question why he was still in high school when he looked way older. Will was used to that. Plus, he couldn’t blame you for thinking that way because he did look at least thirty years old. This was because his hormones were… odd. They made him look older and manlier because he was a “pure” Alpha. But he wasn’t just all that. He was a decent human being who knew how to sympathize, empathize, and communicate with the people around him. He was friendly and loyal. Sure, he had abs that could bite, but he didn’t allow that to be the reason why he should be like the other Alphas who were oblivious and overcome with pride. He wanted to make sure that he would stand out and be good for not only his peers but also for himself. It was the least he could do.

“Otto, Caleb?”

The boys looked among themselves, but couldn’t find Caleb anywhe-

Just then, a boy in all-black raised his hand and cleared his throat. Everyone turned to where it came from: the darkest corner of the room. And there he was, sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees as he buried his face in them.

Caleb was a peculiar kid. He wasn’t Will’s biological brother. His parents only adopted him when he was eleven years old. Nobody knew where he came from or who raised him. All they knew was that he had a deeply cut wound in him that just kept getting bigger and bigger as he grew older. It didn’t even show that he was an Alpha anymore. If you tried to compare him to Will, you would see a big difference; it was obvious that they weren’t brothers. But Will tries his best to be a good big brother to him, and he appreciates that.

“Wyatt, Robinson?”

“Present,” smiled a tan young man with dark hair tied in a man bun. Robbie was a charming one. He was part-Filipino and for some reason, people found that attractive. If people weren’t crushing on Will or Mason, they would be crushing on him. One of the boys in the room has had a crush on him for a long, long time. Wanna know who it is? It’s-

“Grenfield, Caspian?”

“H-here,” stuttered our one and only Caspian Grenfield. He had disheveled brown hair, round glasses, the brains to get to Harvard, and anxiety that would probably kill him if he didn’t get out of there soon. He was a hard-working, determined student who did all he could to avoid trouble, and being here at the principal’s office scared him to death. Do you know what else scared him to death? Having to sit beside his childhood—and up to now—crush, Robbie. He didn’t want to end up beside him, and Robbie even had the choice to sit somewhere else; and he still ended up sitting right beside him. He ended up feeling light-headed and nauseated. His face heated up and his stomach felt funny. Let me die, let me die, let me die~ he kept repeating in his mind. It was almost unbearable.

“Seems like we’re all here, yes?” their Principal finally finished.

All the boys showed their signs of agreement; this was Principal Tucker’s cue to continue.

“Then let’s begin,” she said, straightening herself up. “I gathered you eight here today to discuss a rather unusual matter.”

“Excuse me, Miss?” Jax said, raising his hand to get their principal’s attention. “How unusual are we talking about here?”

“I guarantee that you’ll find out in a bit if you let me speak,” answered Tucker.

“Boom,” muttered Mason, jokingly.

“Oh, shut up, Emalia. I’ll be back for you later,” said Jax.

“Damn right you will,” smirked Mason.

“You sly-“

“Ahem,” coughed Tucker, sternly.

The boys straightened up and muttered a “sorry, Miss.”

“As I was saying,” Principal Tucker finally continued. “This concerns the upcoming prom and the charity funds.”

“Oh no,” Blue gasped.

“No, Blue, it’s good news,” Tucker clarified. “We recently discovered that we raised more money than expected and couldn’t find any other charities to donate to.”

“Nice,” Will said, grinning.

“Exactly,” Tucker agreed. “And that is why I called you boys in to ask if you could organize an event to use all that money for.”

“Wait,” Lee paused. “What?”

All eight boys were scratching their heads and replaying it in their minds. This was all too confusing because the prom wasn’t until a few more months. It was unusual indeed.

“Ma’am,” Robbie started. (Caspian could’ve sworn he felt his lungs stop functioning for a second.) “Couldn’t the school have just kept it instead as pocket-money or something?”

“Well,” Tucker said. “We’ve thought of that, but the school has had a good year. It was unnecessary to keep that much money in our hands. Plus, it might also get stolen. That’s why we decided to put it to good use instead.”

“Touché,” Blue shrugged.

“Anyways-“ Principal Tucker pushed herself back, rolling her chair farther away from her desk, and leaned down to pick something up. She got back up with eight yellow pieces of paper and handed them to the boys who got one and passed among their selves-“Those include anything else you have to know about this event and the permission slips you’ll have to let your parents sign. You can submit them to your homeroom teacher.”

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” Lee said, holding the paper. “But it says here that we will be staying at an Airbnb for a week. May I ask if that’s true?”

“Yes, Mister Emmit,” Principal Tucker chuckled. “You will be accompanied by Miss Sara Leslie at the Airbnb.”

“Why do we need to be in an Airbnb?” Mason asked, furrowing his brows.

“Have you tried studying in the library?” Lee blurted out, almost angrily. “It’s impossible to keep your thoughts straight.”

“Thank you, Mister Emmit,” Principal Tucker hushed.

Caspian scanned the paper. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. One week? Airbnb? With five more strangers? The thoughts circled his mind so intensely, it made him feel even more nauseated than before. He tried telling himself that he was overreacting and that he shouldn’t worry too much.

Was this really happening?

…And that’s how they ended up here, in front of the Airbnb.

next chapter in seven days...

-marothy

#quarantine mansion #gay #original fiction #lgbt+

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letscuttothefeeling · 4 years

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season three episode seven

Welcome to the best episode of the season, brought to you by Clear Blue, the Mile-High Club, and Amazon Sunglasses. BOOP! Let’s cut to the feeling!

Nothing like sweating out a hangover! I love watching Juliette and Kelsey work out while I’m sitting on my couch eating cereal for no reason at 8 PM. This is doing wonders for my self-esteem. The friends start discussing the previous night at White Buffalo Saloon. After Alex and Juliette had that emotional convo outside and she left, they ended up talking on the phone for SIX HOURS. Six hours! I just want to know where Alyssa was while Romeo was telling Juliette he still loved her over the course of 360 minutes. Shout out to Kelsey for being a good friend and telling Juliette that Alex is “a bag of dog shit. On fire.”

The face your best friend makes when you confess that you’re talking to your ex.

The only thing I hate more than lying is longboarding. And Amanda is guilty of both. Though she and Brandon may be moving fast on their weirdly oversized/emo skateboards, their relationship is slowing to a halt. Brandon starts quizzing Amanda about where she disappeared to last night, and she looks genuinely offended that he had the audacity to question her. Why is it that whenever people are guilty, they get so defensive? Any sociologists out there to give me their two cents? (Shout out Alex, for confusing psychology with sociology in episode five. Never change. <3)

This scene is already annoying me because Boring Robby, Jake, and Joe are setting up for the “Rebella” party. Number one, I thought we were done with Boring Robby – get off of my screen – and number two, as much as it pains me, I have to agree with Alex on one thing. Rebella looks like a complete and utter scam. And if I wasn’t so distracted by the beads covering Joe’s face, I’d report this to the Better Business Bureau as a potential money laundering cover-up. As Robby wonders if Juliette will show up, we cut to Juliette and Kelsey’s house. Kelsey, excited to get to the party to see her boss/love interest Jake, convinces Juliette to go. Nothing like showing up to your ex-boyfriend’s party two days after breaking up with him.

Why do people insist upon having tough convos over coffee in this show? First Juliette and her boss, then Robby and Amanda, and now this. As Madisson sits down with Chloe to grab lattes, things get serious quickly. Madisson is having a pregnancy scare! After tearfully confiding in Chloe, Madisson works up the nerve to get a test and Facetimes Dad “Baby” Ish to see the results. I’m sorry, but if my girlfriend randomly Facetimed me at work crying about potentially being with child, I’d be a little more emotive than Ish, who was apathetic about the whole situation. (Clearly, there’s a reason he was behind the camera and not in front of it.) After Madisson finally puts us all out of our misery and checks the test, we discover that she is not, in fact, carrying Ish’s spawn. Shocker! But now she’s forced to think about the reality of dating Old Man Ish since he’s an old man. Does she need to have kids sooner now since her boyfriend is practically in the grave? My head is spinning, I can’t think about this right now. Hopefully, that’s the only unwanted pregnancy of the season!

The Rebella party is in full swing, but instead of showing us the party, the producers have decided to show us forty-seven flashbacks, yet again. Can we please stop with those? They happen eight times an episode and eat up precious airtime. Like we KNOW what happened in the last episode, thanks. As Juliette and Boring Robby ignore each other, and Jake and Kelsey discuss their budding potential relationship, we get to see a glimpse of former cast member Carson! Who is now known to us as “Brandon’s friend.” Usually, the producers will bring on random people and then just never speak of them again, (shoutout Canvas, Tawni, Madisson’s sister, Pauly Paul, Ben, now VICTORIA, and many more) but this time, we get to see one. It’s kind of like seeing a ghost. Hi, Carson! You’re a brunette now! How are you doing? Where did you go? Are you okay?

With no time for childish nonsense, Alex and Chloe are hammering out business details at the Crescent Club. While making a specialty mojito, Chloe sees a video of Juliette at the Rebella party. And once Alex hears she’s there, it’s game over. He becomes genuinely enraged and immediately fires off a text to Robby. Normally I would find his reaction hilarious since it proves that he’s desperately jealous, but the text he sent contains a screenshot of Juliette confessing her love to him earlier in the day, which is just embarrassing. Boring Robby, now would be a good time to start chanting inspirational quotes while you foam at the mouth and seize, you’re going to need them.

Earth-shattering. That’s how I would describe Boring Robby’s reaction to the texts from Alex. It’s reminiscent of that scene in Stephanie Meyer’s third novel in the Twilight Saga, Eclipse, when Bella accidentally lets it slip while ditching school with Jacob that she plans to become a vampire upon graduation. Jacob is shell-shocked. Although he knew this was looming, he had no idea it was happening so soon. I mean, not only would this break the treaty – remember, the Cullen clan is banned from not only killing, but also BITING any human – but this is also the girl who Jacob presumes to be the love of his life!! (Even though he hasn’t imprinted on her.) Before this show, I could only imagine his exact face when he found out Bella was going to become a filthy bloodsucker. (His words, not mine.) He even said he’d rather she be dead! Luckily, Robby’s face at this moment is all I need to visualize Jacob’s. After the soul-crushing texts, Robby runs up to Juliette to confront her. He accuses her of faking the entire relationship, then tries to prove it by asking Juliette to name her favorite moment or memory from their relationship. After Boring Robby waits in silence for a few seconds, Juliette responds, “SEX ON A PLANE! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?” Icon!

For the record, I know Jacob’s face during that shocking scene was portrayed by Taylor Lautner in the cinematic masterpiece Eclipse, but as a self-proclaimed Twilight expert, I felt that this real-life moment of Robby Hayes actually paid homage to Jacob’s raw emotion more accurately.

Back at the Kompothecras mansion, Alyssa, Gary, Alex, and Alex’s nameless mother are drinking at 10 AM. I stand by my hypothesis that Alyssa is trying to replace Alex’s mom and bang Gary. I can think of no other logical explanation as to why she keeps thudding around Alex’s parent’s house without a bra on. It’s funny that she has time to paint on a full face of makeup, but no time to cover her nipples. As they sit down for drinks, Alyssa immediately starts talking about how Juliette is trying to “weasel her way back in” and that “she needs to back off.” What’s that? Juliette, the girl who has dated Alex for 3+ years is trying to “weasel her way back in”? That’s great, coming from the girl who got pregnant after three months of NOT EVEN DATING ALEX. No yeah, um, that’s just, great. Good insight, Alyssa.

Since Alex was abroad for his birthday, he’s decided to throw a party for Jared. Even though I’m a little mad that Alex didn’t throw his annual banger, this party provided us with a lot of content, so I’m not going to pursue a lawsuit with Gary. Earlier in the episode, we learned that Jared is a divorcé! That’s right, when Jared was in the navy, he was married to someone and got divorced after a year. Young love. Even though he’s having a fun birthday party by the beach with all of his friends, he’s fixated on getting a call from his ex-wife. Finally, she calls and we learn that she’s coming to town next week. Interesting! As they hung up, they said “I love you” to each other, and then Jared got really emotional. Also interesting! We’ll learn more next week. Stay tuned!

As Alex and Alyssa hang all over each other, you can see Juliette seething behind her Chloe’s sunglasses. She decides to go confront Alex against literally everyone’s advice, and I’m already cringing. Juliette marches up to Alex and starts trying to get him to admit, on camera, that he said he still loved her over the phone. Alex blatantly denies it (even though it’s definitely true,) and then up comes Alyssa. She immediately starts berating Juliette, saying that she’s “crazy” and “false.” I’m just laughing at how naïve Alyssa is. Poor girl. She will soon become all too aware of what a manipulative liar Alex is. Okay, “manipulative liar” is a bit of an overstatement. That makes him sound intelligent. He’s just an asshole. Either way, I’m violently triggered by the idea of my liar ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend calling me psychotic and laughing in my face. So when Juliette pushes Alex in the pool and pulls down Alyssa’s bathing suit after Alyssa throws a drink at her, I’m not mad about it! As a final touch, Juliette hurls Chloe’s now crumpled sunglasses back at her, then, as everyone is trying to escort her away from the pool, she tugs down Alyssa’s bathing suit yet again, adding a final, “boop!” Pure class. Team Juliette for life. See you on the Key next week!

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gayzytown · 7 years

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Birthdays

{{VERY IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER!! i put it in caps bc thts how important it is!!! this is pure, unedited 12 yr old mod roria sportarobbie fanfiction !! u can tell its really old bc the whole time robbie is like >:’( and it makes sportacus :c also! robbie gets hit in the face and sportacus cries which is unfitting bc the fic itself isnt that sad?? but it has a happy ending!! just thought id warn you all im literally posting something really poorly written and its also rlly long and like almost 5 yrs old ?? one of the first things i wrote for lazytown!! but anyway here it is }}

Curled up in his chair, Robbie woke up and his eyes fluttered in sync with his heart and with the butterflies in his stomach. A tiny gleam of hope rose up in his chest, and a small smile graced his soft lips. It was finally the day. The day he had been waiting for. The day he had not-so-subtly hinted about since last month. He tried his best to stamp out the fiery optimism that held his heart in its grip, but the cold, icy hand of doubt could not pry it off.

His tired eyes glanced at the clock, which currently said 7:00 A.M. Earlier than Robbie had woken up in years, but now that warm feelings had him in a death grip, there would be no more sleeping. He rolled out of his chair with more enthusiasm than ever before, and pranced contently to his periscope. Before he looked into it, he took a moment to compose himself. It was in vain, of course, and it was with much euphoria that he lifted up the periscope and peeked through. His smile faltered slightly as the warm hand pushed his heart up into his throat. They didn’t… forget, did they? But he had made it so blatantly clear that it was today, and he had been looking forward to this day for weeks. The day he would get some of the spotlight. The day he could outshine Sportacus. The day he wouldn’t be ignored. The day he would be loved. Granted, tomorrow would be the same as every other day, but today was special. Today was his birthday, and it was going to be the best birthday ever. It was going to be the best day, in general, until next year.

Only slightly disheartened, he continued to search for anything. Even if he was a villain, it was highly uncharacteristic of the people of LazyTown to not celebrate. Suddenly, the hand squeezed his heart and the heat filled his entire being as a banner came into view. It clearly read, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY.” They had remembered! He tremored in excitement as he simply stared at the scene before him. What looked like an amazingly prodigious party being laid out before his eyes. For him. There were balloons and streamers and games, and even though it wasn’t the color he had expected and there was more sportscandy than he would’ve liked, it was a party for him. It was his birthday party. The people were celebrating his birth. They were celebrating the fact that self-proclaimed villain Robbie Rotten was brought into this world on this day, twenty-three years ago. To him, it symbolized much more than a birthday party. This could mean a whole turning point in his life. Maybe he wouldn’t be a villain. Maybe he wouldn’t be so full of hate. Maybe he’d be loved. Maybe he’d be happy. The pleasant optimistic grip shifted and held his entire body, and he closed his eyes for a moment to relish the feeling. A smile so foreign to Robbie that anyone wouldn’t be able to recognize him for a moment lightened up his face, and his cold, lonely lair felt more comfortable than ever before. His eyes, filled to the brim with happy tears that he had never felt, opened and his smile widened. Letting out a deep, booming laugh that echoed throughout the lair and brought raw joy and happiness to every room, he spun with his periscope and peered through one more time. The familiar icy hand clawed at its rival as he noticed something he hadn’t noticed before. The banner said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY… Sportacus.” He shrugged as his smile faltered as he chuckled nervously. That didn’t mean they had forgotten his, maybe they both had birthdays. Or maybe they had gotten confused about who’s birthday it was. Maybe anything, except they had forgotten. They couldn’t have. Not after all he had done to make it clear that it was his birthday. Who cares about Sportacow’s birthday? They’d throw him a party for any little thing. The icy grip triumphantly pierced his heart with its long, disfigured claws and his brow furrowed. They couldn’t have forgotten. He’d just… he’d just go up and walk around. He was sure to get a “happy birthday” or two. They couldn’t have forgotten, it just wasn’t possible. His lair was suddenly cold, and the remaining laughter died away. He peered out one more time, and watched as Sportacus was taken completely by surprise because of his birthday party. Like he was really so surprised. They would’ve thrown him a party if he’d done something as minimal as walk to the post office. A single tear slid down his face, but it wasn’t happy. It was full of anguish, and fear. He felt so alone. The icy grip suddenly got red hot and in his fit of sudden rage, he clawed off the tear viciously, leaving a red mark on his face and he shoved the periscope away as hard as he could. Unfortunately, the momentum swung it back and it was hurled into his face. In a tantrum and between shock, pain, and anger, he stepped back on his catwalk and swung backwards over the railing onto his head. As the stars faded, he groaned and tried to get up, but the children had started playing exceptionally loud today and with the combined force of the impact a headache pounded in his head and he decided to stay where he was. He mumbled a small “I meant to do that,” before closing his eyes.

Meanwhile, Sportacus was having a lovely birthday party. Maybe a little of the surprise was faked, but it was mostly genuine. He didn’t remember telling anyone his birthday, but he was glad that they knew. The party had a banner, and games, and sportscandy and blue. Lots of blue. He played with the children with more energy than usual, if that was possible, and didn’t notice that they were louder than usual. After a while of playing, the kids were tired, so they all decided to take a break. He sat with them under an apple tree, listening to them talk about school and such. But something didn’t feel right. He felt like he was forgetting something, and that someone was in trouble. Everyone was here, except for… his brow furrowed. Robbie. He wondered why Robbie hated him, and his heart sank a little. But then he remembered that it was his birthday, and he smiled. He tried to forget the feeling, since his crystal didn’t go off. But he felt bad, and he wasn’t sure why but he did. Lately his thoughts on Robbie had been getting a little… different. He had never felt this way about anything before, and he didn’t know if it was good or if he had been coming down with something. He had never been sick before, so maybe this is what it felt like. He vaguely wondered if Robbie would come but was interrupted when Stephanie spoke up.

“Sportacus, are you okay? I’ve never seen you so serious before,” she said. He faked a smile.

“I was just thinking about Robbie,” he said, with fake happiness going unnoticed in his voice. She looked confused.

“Why?” she asked. Then, for good measure, she added, “He would just try to ruin the party. It’s your birthday, Sportacus!” His smile faltered slightly.

“Stephanie, do you know why people bully?” he asked. She shook her head no, and he went on. “Bullies are bullies because they’re unhappy with themselves,” he finished, a small realization hitting him as well as the children.

“Why would Robbie be unhappy? He usually seems so happy when he’s thwarting,” she asked, not wanting to believe that Robbie was sad, or lonely. It was so much easier to think that mean people got what they deserved, not that they were unhappy.

“Maybe he’s lonely, or maybe he’s been bullied himself,” he said. It suddenly became quiet, and he felt a little bad for putting such a damper on the mood. He jumped up suddenly. “Who’s ready to get back to our game?” he chirped, and the kids all cheered and followed him to the courts. They all put the conversation in the back of their heads, to be reviewed later. All of them, except for Stephanie. They played for another hour more when they were interrupted by a familiar figure stalking by faster than ever before. Sportacus, however was faster, and he flipped over a wall, grabbed his water bottle, and landed in front of Robbie. Robbie stopped and looked at him. Half of his face was covered by a huge, purple and blue bruise. But it wasn’t that that scared Sportacus. It was the look in Robbie’s eyes. Not only were they bloodshot, but Sportacus had never seen someone so incredibly angry, so livid. It scared Sportacus, and he stepped back a bit. It was suddenly quiet and the silence hurt Sportacus’s ears, so he decided to say something.

“Hi, Robbie,” he said. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Won’t you join us? It’s fun.” A look of sadness and confusion passed over Robbie’s face, but he said nothing. The silence was louder than before, the atmosphere was more tense and almost angry. But that didn’t scare Sportacus. The thing that scared Sportacus was his feelings. Robbie was completely outraged, and it was Sportacus’s fault. He had done something, and it hurt his heart more than anything ever had before. His heart burned as the fiery claw from Robbie’s heart reached through the two men and crushed Sportacus. He felt so hurt. His heart was hurt. His heart was broken, and he had never felt that way before. It absolutely crushed him. But on the outside, he feigned happiness.

“Uh, um, Robbie! It’s time for a water fight!” he chirped, back flipped away, grabbed a hose and the kids scattered into a panicked mass of children, giggling and squealing excitedly. Sportacus stole a glance at Robbie and his heart broke even more. He didn’t seem mad anymore, just sad, lonely, and so distant from everyone else. His brow furrowed despondently and he glared towards Sportacus. They made eye contact and he suddenly bristled, standing up straight and putting on a fake resentful face, before turning around and stalking away. Sportacus’s face fell and the hose slipped out of his grip. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t, because heroes don’t cry, so he faked another smile, laughed and picked up the hose again. His little moment went unnoticed by everyone and the party continued as if nothing had happened.

That night, Sportacus was in his airship, thinking about earlier. His heart hurt still. It felt sore, like that one time when he was just a kid and he worked his muscles too hard and they ached. It was his birthday, so he shouldn’t be sad, but Robbie’s face. He wondered what was going on in Robbie’s head. Suddenly, he remembered that Pixel, for his birthday, had given Sportacus a little computer thing that had lap or something in the name, and it had information on the people of LazyTown if he just pushed a button. Leaping up off his bed, he opened up the computer and looked at it. It had lots of buttons, some of which Pixel had explained, but Sportacus didn’t remember, so he looked at it. Some of the keys had letters, maybe he could type stuff. He spelled “ON” on the keyboard. Nothing happened. He picked it up and looked for a switch on it, or something, but found nothing. One of the buttons was bound to turn it on, so he pushed all of them, and one of them did something because the screen lit up, then it had a picture on the screen of LazyTown with little tiny things on it. They looked like icon, and one of them said “LazyTown”, so he poked it. Nothing happened. “What..?” he murmured, then he remembered the thing. Pixel called it a… a mouse? Yes, a mouse, so he clicked it. Nothing happened. Frustrated, he grabbed it and moved it aggressively across the table back and forth. Something on the screen moved with his motion and he stopped. Slowly, carefully, he moved the mouse so that the cursor moved to the little LazyTown icon, and then he clicked the button on top, and a page opened, and a little box was there. He slowly clicked a button on the keypad and a little tiny “K” showed up in a little box. Pressing the backspace so that the K disappeared, he slowly typed in “ROBBIE ROTTEN” and pressed enter, not sure what he was looking for. A small blue thing showed up that said “Robbie Rotten” and had a sentence that ended in “…read more here” and he began to read it.

“Robbie Rotten; born on October 10th, [year unknown] in [place unknown] and went to [school unknown]…”

Sportacus realized they knew so little about Robbie, and he frowned slightly. Suddenly it hit him. October 10th. That was today. They had missed Robbie’s birthday. Maybe that was why he was so sad… Robbie came up, probably looking for a “happy birthday” and instead he got people celebrating someone else’s birthday and completely forgetting about him. He felt absolutely crushed. His heart was breaking even more, and he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They flowed freely from his eyes, and he bit his lip thinking about what he could do. Closing the laptop, he picked up his phone and clicked Bessie’s number. He had gotten the phone a while ago from Pixel and he knew very well how to work it. Well, not really, but he could call certain people when he needed to, which he hardly ever did. Bessie answered suddenly.

“Sportacus? Are you okay? It’s past 8:08, what’s going on?” she asked.

“Oh, hi Bessie! Everything’s fine, I just wanted to say that, uh… Robbie’s birthday was, um… We missed it, and I wanted to make it up to him. Somehow,” he mumbled.

“…Oh! How sad… I understand that you’re upset, I’ll pull something together for tomorrow, and it might be a little… modest, but I think it’ll be good. As long as you can get him to come,” Bessie said.

“Thanks Bessie! I’ll get him to come, thank you!” Sportacus said. Then, he hung up the phone and got back into bed. He felt a tiny bit better, but he felt weird. He felt guilty. Sighing, he turned over in bed and pulled the cover over his head, knowing he wouldn’t get any sleep.

Then next morning Sportacus woke up bright and early and slid down the ladder to LazyTown and ran to the center. It was empty, of course, because he was up so early, but he decided to see if Robbie was up.

Filled with a new found enthusiasm, he trotted to the purple billboard and waddled around it. He found the metal entrance to Robbie's domain and knocked, a smile on his face. He heard muffled thumping and mumbled curse words before the latch opened and he was face to face with a black and blue mess with piercing grey-blue, bloodshot eyes. Upon seeing Sportacus, his brow furrowed and his lip quivered.

"What do you want, Sportacus?" he hissed. Sportacus was usually elated to hear the lithe man say his name and not some morphed, insulting version of it, but in this case it wiped the smile off his face. He didn't like it when his name slid from Robbie's lips like venom, dripping poignant enmity. He suddenly forgot why he was here.

"Uh... um, I..." he stuttered. Robbie reached for the hatch to slam it when Sportacus abruptly remembered. "Wait! Robbie, your birthday," he exclaimed. Robbie stopped, and held the hatch up, eyes wide with shock. His brows suddenly dropped, and he clamped his mouth shut.

"Oh, you remembered," he said sarcastically. Sportacus swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Robbie, I'm really sorry we forgot," he said softly, "but if you would just come with me, I think I can make it up to you!" Robbie scoffed at this.

“No, Sportacus.”

“... what?”

“I'm not going to your stupid little last-minute birthday party!”

Sportacus was quiet. He felt like crying, and so he did. “Robbie, please! I-I'm so sorry we forgot, I can only imagine how much it hurt to see everyone celebrating someone else's birthday on your own but if you just give me a chance,” he grabbed Robbie’s face in his hands, “I could show you…” he stopped. He realized he was blushing, with his face so close to Robbie’s. He stared deep into the man’s eyes and saw that he was lonely, and afraid. From here he could better see the beautiful color of Robbie’s eyes, his pale skin, his wavy hair, his soft lips. Sportacus longed to touch the soft lips with his own. His breathing sped up as he realized this was what he had been feeling, he was in love with Robbie Rotten.

“Sp-Sportacus…” Robbie mumbled, placing his own hands on the elf’s. Sportacus barely heard it over the sound of his heart racing. He couldn't hold himself back anymore. He stared into the man’s eyes lovingly, and then he leaned forward. Closing the gap between the two, he gently pressed his lips into Robbie’s. Robbie gasped against Sportacus’s mouth and his grip tightened on the elf’s hands. Sportacus pulled away slowly after a moment, and pressed his forehead against his love’s. It was quiet.

“If this is y-you trying to get me to g-go to the party,” Robbie started. Sportacus laughed.

“Robbie, I love you,” he said softly, looking up at the man. Robbie was looking at him, eyes wide. He was blushing.

“Sportacus, I… I never…”

Sportacus drew away. He had made Robbie uncomfortable. He was blushing, not the light, tender, sweet pink hue of love, but a deep, embarrassed red.

“Oh, Robbie, I'm sorry, I never stopped to think about-”

Robbie leaped out of the silo/entrance to his house and grabbed Sportacus’s hands.

“Don't apologize,” he whispered, then added, “I'll go to the party.” Sportacus brightened instantly.

“You will!! Robbie, that's great! I'm so happy you-”

Robbie interrupted him by pressing his mouth against the elf’s. Sportacus’s eyes widened in shock, but after a second they slid closed and he leaned into Robbie, running a hand through the man’s hair. Eventually Robbie pulled away. He gazed into Sportacus’s eyes, infatuated. Sportacus placed a gentle kiss on Robbie’s nose and grabbed his hand, leading him towards the center of town. Maybe Robbie’s life would turn around after all. Maybe he would be happy from now on. Maybe this would be the best day he'd ever had.

((its rlly angsty and i said “brow furrowed” like 7 times))

#mod roria's trash heap #gosh this is bad but i thought u all should know started from the bottom now we here #sportacus #robbie rotten #im not taggin it anything else im too busy c r y i n g

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sirxantham-blog · 6 years

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Catherine, Chapter 3

The Pundits, along with the American people, were scared. The ever-rising temperatures, along with the melting of the polar ice caps, the untimely extinction of the Polar bear, and the partial sinking of Venice had all taken its toll on the psyche and imaginations of the world over, traipsing upon the shared ideal and promise of longetivity, giving way to a sure demise full of intrepidation. Intrepidation gave way to concern, concern to fear, and with many A-list celebrities joining in with companies and news organizations to bring illumination to the subject that was on everybody’s minds, fear gave way to resolve. And as Catherine once posted to her Mu account, “Resolve to change is like the sun on a rainy day, a flowing river under a stalwart mountain or the tectonic plates moving ever so slightly beneath our feet: It is always there, you just may not see it directly.” The plan for halting climate change was starting to form when a small company figured out how to eradicate carbon dioxide from the atmosphere inexpensively. At first, the process cost about 100 dollars per ton, which when calculating how much carbon dioxide was being put into the atmosphere by every country, came out to about 3 trillion US dollars a year, a bit too much for most countries to think about, even though at the time of 2018 temperatures were rising so drastically that there were very few climate change deniers, or those who had been brainwashed by the oil conglomerates who owned many major news companies. Most of the U.S. public weren’t fooled, however, as celebrities like Catherine quickly began using their voices to speak out about the issue. By 2026, though, the process cost significantly less than at first, and countries started touting it as a priority. A giant tide of awareness was shifting in the shadows, on the streets and in front of homes you would see signs tacked up or on posts - “Help Fight Climate Change!” and “Save our Earth from CO2 Emissions!”. T-shirts were worn during the summer and flags flown from buildings the whole year proclaiming the need to change to solar, or green energy, and bumper stickers started popping up urging to call congress to make plastic bags illegal.

As Catherine stepped further and further into the spotlight, she found that the crowd in the shadows was filled with a world that desperately wanted change in ways that would secure a more viable future for all.

For Catherine, being a viable change had its upsides and downsides; each night looking over the reports of the congressional and senatorial leanings and actions, finding out the public opinion versus the news media opinion on TV, rerunning all of her notes for future speeches, even being able to get a quick chat with Matthew was not a certainty in the business of the moment. But writing in her journal was the remedy of said moment, the serene pool of reflection and monumentous discovery, the tranquil oasis in the desert of “fake news”. It was after flipping through her twitter feed and reviewing some notes for the next day’s high-profile meetings, after calling her defense minister about any requirements that must be met (one of her least favorite jobs in office) and finally going to the Periodical with Matthew that she grabbed a sleek slate, traced a rune on the front, and used the surface as a keyboard that buzzed bright green against her fingers, the only glow in her room as Matthew sat beside her, playing a holographic word game on his own tablet. Her tablet’s interface had a retro feel, with the letter font like an old MS-DOS computer, all green and tethered, against a pure black screen to aid in keeping light pollution down at night. She had a fondness of looking back at her campaign trail memoirs, as she was extremely lucid during those volatile times for some reason. Perhaps it was the rush of the crowd, always accepting, getting bigger and bigger as even large stadiums had to start to overflow, the cameras flashing, her heart racing with every upswing of her fist, catching herself to make sure she doesn’t seem too much like an authoritarian autocrat like Mussolini or even Che. She found a favorite entry of hers, from back in the day where she would be typing two or three pages an hour, just to test her endurance. Glancing over it, she smiled, looking over at Matthew she ruffled his hair and said

“There’s a literal aura of tension around you, I can feel it glowering like a scared hedgehog or something. Are you doing okay over there?” Matthew laughed, and put away his tablet, picking up Halbert/Dakolon who had come up to hang out with them.

“No, I’m just stumped at this word puzzle. I keep trying out ‘defraction’ but its telling me that its not actually a word. And what are you doing here, Halbie? This is strange – and new – our cat actually wanting to be with us? I’ve always tagged him as standoffish.”

“Diffraction’s a word,” Catherine replied, giving Halbert a scratch on the cheek. “I’m pretty sure it’s used in light and wave forms, things of that nature. And yeah, did you see what Halbert did today?” Catherine said with a shake of her head and a smile, feeling strange and wonderful at her cat’s newfound spirit identity, the initial discomfort all but dissipated.

“No, what? What’d I miss?”

“Oh it was all over Twitter and Mu today...” Catherine spouted about how Halbert was flopped against her. She breathed and looked in Matthew’s grey-blue eyes, wishing that she could share her experience with Dakolon to her husband. Her struggle was real, and in a moment of weakness, with the lights dimmed in the padded luxury of her estates room surrounding her like too much stuffing in a tofurkey, she almost revealed the whole ordeal, from the meeting of Dakolon to the séance she would have with the other spirits for the effect of diverting Climate Change. He smiled at her and tilted his head questioningly, but she shook her head, and told him about Robbie Armistead instead. After telling Matthew about the strange message from Robbie (“I always thought of that guy as a creep”) and a bit of more small talk, Matthew turned over to bed and Catherine turned out the lights and started flipping through annals of her journal, finding one of her favorite times and rereading it as the moonlight slowly snuck into their room and Halbert sighed and purred in the crook of Matthew’s arms, a first for him.

I sniffed, inhaling, steadying myself like a matador before a bull, I sway before coming out into the spotlight at Chrominial hall in Newark, New Jersey. My heart races, I feel a tightening of the nerves around my solar plexus chakra, my inner sun clamouring for space- “Too much light! Too much light!” It may say, as I am a Virgo, even a late blooming one, unused to the thrall of the crowd calling my name, as if I am someone who needs to be called. I am here! You know I’m coming! Why call for me- is there going to be any reason I would not come out? I am contracted to meet you at, woah, xxx.xx dollars per speech, and yes, it would have been xxxx.xx but I had to make sure that some kid in Myanmar gets fed before my over-decked-out RV gets a new hot tub or my… McMansion gets a new kitchen. Do we need these things? Do I? Well, as you clamour for my name, I clamour for the title of “Empress” or whatever you want, whatever Matthew calls it nowadays. Ghengis Cath rang so familiarly in my ears, almost hurting my sides with laughter as I write this, now, with ketchup stains on my blouse from when I slipped, my fries missing my mouth as it were. Oh Matty. The lights Matty, the lights! The cameras! Still, they crush my sedimentality, my core isolationism, the castle of my evanescent being. You know, you know. I gripe, I complain. Maybe, I told you today over tea and coconut butter toast, maybe this whole White House thing will grant us some… more… privacy? You laughed. And I think I spat tea out of my nose. Snorting. Still, I talk to you now, crowd of deafening proportions. You who saw the millenials penchant for laziness and took your constitutional rights to the streets. You who incessantly called your congress and demanded justice – demanded regulation on corporations so they don’t ruin the planet. As I walked up the stairs, doing my best princess smile and wave, I tripped UP the stairs (I didn’t even know that was something you could do – vis a vis gravity) and sprained my ankle. Just tallywankered it. It was throbbing for days, and walking was out of the question. The crowd, was aghast and some of them ran immediately to my aid. Even though nothing was broken, one of them who was in the front (I think his name was Kent) told me “Mrs. Harper, I think you might have broken your foot. Should we call an ambulance to take you to the hospital?” I deflected, stating, No! I haven’t broken anything, I know my body quite well, thank you kindly sir. He nodded and smiled, giving me the benefit of the doubt, signaling to the crowd that all was okay and after about a minute of convincing him and a doctor who also rushed up to help that I didn’t need to go to the doctor but could continue on with the campaign event as usual. Kent, and the crowd, were all for it! He and the doctor ended up propping me up while I went on and continued speaking. It was magical, like seeing the aurora borealis first time or fireworks because all the lighters from the crowd started lighting up as if I was singing a cheesy, moving pop song. Sometimes the cheers after my urgent calls to make lobbying illegal were so strong that I couldn’t even hear myself over the din. My handlers were soft yet strong and were somehow able to keep me propped up for longer than my usual events, as if they were miraculously strong like superheroes. Sometimes, I feel like the people surrounding me are superheroes – McKenzie with fire and abandon, giving me hope when all my confidence shatters, Mike, who defies any equal of a campaign manager and manages to get me on talk shows with the most amazing people, Charity, my confidant and assistant who has brought me more laughter in time of need than I could ever ask for. And of course, Matthew. You see me when nobody else does. You’re like Cyclops and I’m like Jean Grey – I have been given exceptional abilities (they are waning now...) and you have extreme foresight to look into my situations and identify the root problems that may come up. So my heroes of that night took me in their arms and held me up for a good hour while the crowd got more and more enthusiastic. There was so much screaming by the end, they were clamouring for me to come back, but I had nothing more to give you, I gave it my all! Sweating profusely, my arms feeling like giant sore bruises were covering them, my ankle swollen to somehow make my shoe unable to fit, I could only say so much before I knew my own limits, and Kent and the doctor let me down, them somehow able to hold me up for an hour and looking, and probably feeling a little spent and weakened. Afterwards, during the photo ops and poster and picture signings, a girl came up to me and looked at me very seriously, pausing to catch herself as she said, “Excuse me, Catherine, can I ask you a question?” She had brown hair, much like mine except longer and pushed into a pony tail and she was carrying a note-slate like the one I am writing on. She looked like she was coming from a dance party, dressed with odd fitting clothes draped over each other, which was a style many young kids actually acquire when going to one of my rallies, the media calls them “Sharpers” after my name, I guess, and they all are notoriously quizzical and, well, seem very smart. I said she could, of course, and then she went on about the importance of family and how the family unit is one of the most powerful forces in culture. She then got to her question. “Why don’t you have any kids? And… would you adopt me?” She laughed at that and steadied herself. I shared her laugh. I told her about how I feel it is somewhat irresponsible for me to bring a child into this world as it seems to be falling apart to climate change, and how much resources children consume by the time they are 18, which is exorbitant, especially in the U.S. She listened politely, and then said one of the most striking things I have ever heard. “Catherine, if I’m being honest with you, it is people like you that give me hope enough to have children and… rear them proudly, knowing that there is good in the world. Knowing that you could be our president gives me hope for our next generation.”

At that moment it all felt so surreal, like I was walking through time and space, seeing all directions at the same time. I remembered when my mom used to sing The Beatles to me whenever I had a bad day, or sometimes just for fun, her soft, flowing voice singing Penny Lane after I came home with two F’s one day in seventh grade. She insisted on coming on the campaign trail with me but I assured her that I had all the support I needed. But somehow, all I could say back to that girl was “But there are so many more like me who are starting to take office, who are taking the lead.” And I gave her the website of the progressive and green movement that highlighted leaders who were taking effect and the reigns of history as we know it. I am so thankful to all of my higher powers for putting me on this path, and though it is scary many times, I am delighted to be surrounded by so many people that support me, sometimes even physically.

The gates to the Air Force One hangar were opened with an eye scanner of one of the secret service members, and Catherine and Matthew dodged out of a limousine and into the plane, a little behind schedule as Matthew took a bit too long to pack clothes for the trip to Alaska to oversee the shutting down of oil pipelines. Ever since electric vehicles were pro-rated as the best and newest way to travel, gasoline eventually became an extinct form of fueling and was outlawed in the continental U.S. for all of the damage it did to the atmosphere with CO2 emissions, except Alaska where there was still some refineries left. One thing that Matthew took up ever since becoming “royalty” as he sarcastically commented about himself, often with rolled eyes, was fashion. Once, when hanging out with “Sharpers” after a campaign event, he shared a joint with a few of Catherine’s fans, much to their delight.

“So, Mangus, what’s gonna be your deal when you get into the spotlight?” Asked a rather flashy dressed sharper dude with a pink poncho covering a light blue blazer and orange striped pants. The “Sharper image” as it was called, was what you might find at a rave or dance party, except with a bit of formality. Matthew’s last name was Mangus, as Catherine very famously kept her own last name, being already an elite celebrity with it. Matthew blushed, took the joint and hit it, and with a look of shock on his face began a fit of coughing.

“Wow...” cough cough “That is...” cough “An intense… Ah… joint!” He brayed. He regained composer as a wave of giggles and laughter swept the circle behind their clear, giant RV. A girl with blue hair and bright, orange contacts pointed her finger at him.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be like, Harper’s number two, man...”

“Hopefully,” another in the group pointed out, a black long-haired young man in a suit with glowsticks surrounding his arms and neck.

“Yeah, hopefully,” She responded, waving her hand around. “What if you show up to all of these events with Catherine sporting her usual fab couture, silk scarves and gucci handbags and Indian dresses and all that… gorgeousness. And alls you do is show up with a suit and, what, differently colored tie? Who would have that nonsense? Are you- are you going buy into all of that shit? Being plain?” Matthew gulped. He exhaled, learning a long time ago that you needed to hold in the smoke to get the full effect, and considered his options. Being pretty high already, he knew he could regale the group with one of his experiences at a fashion show, garner a couple of laughs, and excuse himself as he was perhaps too high to make any such decisions then, but he decided to tackle this idea head on.

“Hmm… you do have a point there...” He nodded thoughtfully. This elicited a wave of chatter and laughter from the group who all seemingly started to talk to him at once, one throwing out

“You could have a man bun!” and another, “You could cross-dress sometimes, as a statement about gender roles!” And the girl with the orange eyes seemed to shout “rainbow crocs!” Along with some other things he couldn’t identify at the time, with a bit of laughter after it and a few boos. He raised up his hands defensively and tried to address them all at once.

“Yo! Friends! Er, Peers! I am, as you might say, ‘too high for this shit.’ But! Um,” He steadied himself and rubbed his temple, an old trick he picked up from his many bouts with acid to aid his thought process and stared into the ragtag group’s bright and expectant faces. “I feel like what you are saying is valid and has merit. If Catherine is going to be the Independent, free-thinking, progressive candidate, I need to mirror that idea. And while I probably won’t be sporting any dresses, which, let’s face it, isn’t really my thing, I feel, now more than ever actually, that I need to redefine what it means to be a man in politics. Because,” He paused for effect, “I hate politics.”

So whenever Matthew went out, he decided he might as well go out in style, often being seen in arrays ranging from cowls to top hats to multi-colored vests, to a sheikh’s garb on a few occasions, copying the Indian motif that Catherine loved to sport. Needless to say, the media ate it up, and on more than one occasion, Matthew was featured in the style section of Men’s Journal as the most savvy and sleek of dressers in the world. And having the full disposal of his wardrobe encompassing multiple rooms was a bit of a distraction for Matthew, who was used to wearing simple suits and ties before living in the White House. Usually, Catherine helped him pick out his outfits, opting for more traditional styles for him, but he often came out with a few surprises.

“Oh dear, dear dear dear, let me get that for you-” Catherine swiped at Matthew’s scarf as they were entering Air Force One. He was dressed in a smart purple blazer with a beige skinny tie and skinny black jeans and cowboy boots. “You mixed purple and yellow again -” she tisked in his general direction, handing his yellow scarf to one of their secret service.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, trying to get the scarf back, reaching for it and pushing up his glasses. “I can rock that! Maybe it could go with my orange sweater?” Catherine shook her head, taking his arm affectionately as they found a seating arrangement in the giant plane that they liked, nodding to the assistants on board who greeted them.

“Champagne or appetizers, Madame and Sir?” queried a steward with a navy blue outfit and red curly hair. He tipped his hat to both of them and smiled, but Catherine waved him away but Matthew said,

“I’ll have a sparkling water, thank you.” Catherine gave a long-faced surprised look at Matthew, who shrugged. “What?” Catherine batted her eyelashes.

“Well, well, well. Matty finally taking advantage of the – opulence on Air Force One!” Matthew rolled his eyes and scratched his beard.

“I mean, what am I supposed to do – I’m thirsty! And they’re there, like, waiting on our every desire.” He sniggered.

“Don’t you find it a bit unsettling – your words?” He kept scratching his beard.

“I dunno, I’m on the fence about it, I guess. If you wanted to make a statement about conservation and helping fight over-opulence, you could just boycott Air Force One and take a smaller plane, like not even a jet plane that still uses fossil fuels.”

“I can’t wait until they find another fuel source for jet planes,” Catherine said, crossing her arms and looking out the window as the plane began to take off. “But boycotting this big old thing would definitely be something good. We could take a Cessna or something like it, or something that runs on electricity. It is so positively hard to have a small carbon impact when you have the biggest military on the planet.”

“Except for China,” Matthew interjected, relaxing back after receiving his water and kicking his feet up on an ottoman. “They’ll always beat us at everything. Remember how hard it was for America to concede military dominance? It was like taking a toy from a baby. All we heard for years was ‘waah waah waah, they’re gonna have a bigger dick missile than us’. Well, go and poop in your diaper. Who the hell cares? I’m glad someone else is doing the bullying rather than us for once. Being the second biggest jerk in the world as opposed to the first is good for us.”

Catherine actually talked about removing Air Force One from her presidency with some of her campaign staff, something unheard of, but for the first nine months she told herself that she wanted to try it out, but each time Matthew made his stand by not ordering anything and sitting frumpily in the corner usually saying nothing.

“That’s it, Matty. I – I can’t do this anymore. I told myself that I was going to enjoy this one thing, if only for a little bit, but I cannot be a true green party candidate if I continue to fly this behemoth.” She smiled at Matthew and he brightened up and sat up in his chair.

“Really? You mean it?” Then he snapped his fingers and sighed. “Aw man, just when I was getting used to it.” He looked at her slyly. “Maybe we can enjoy it one or two more times?” She nodded.

“Maybe. But let’s make some noise on Twitter and Mu about this. I think the public would like to know that their president isn’t going to keep wasting gas and money like this anymore.” Matthew shrugged.

“I am for it. I’m glad that the military went mostly electric these last few years. That was a huge sigh of relief.” Catherine nodded, straightening her hair.

“And the government stipend for anyone who doesn’t have an electric car to get one was a nice touch. Funny how much money can be found in the budget if you consolidate military spending.”

“Military spending,” Catherine retorted, balancing a book on her knee. “Remember the 21 Trillion our military ‘accidentally misplaced’ between the years of 2008 to 2015?”

“Oh god,” Matthew rolled his eyes.

“I mean that could have...” She shook her head, pursing her lips. “That could have solved world hunger thrice over for a decade. But instead, our government chose to bomb, pillage, warmonger. It hurts, Matty. It hurts my heart.” Matthew smiled, chuckled to himself and started bobbing his head.

“Please don’t hurt my heart, my achy breaky heart… nananananah na nyaaaah” Catherine laughed, tilting her head back and gave Matthew a soft kick from across the aisle.

“Wow, what a throwback. But really, it hurts.” She gave him a soft smile and put her hand to her heart. “Just imagine a generation that was stolen from, in great amounts, never to see or hear from that money again. Don’t you think the government owes the American people something?” Matthew nodded, sipping his water.

“Which is probably the reason for the electric stipends. The U.S. government: finally getting something right for once. It feels good to be on the side of justice, whereas before when I was, you know, rooting for our country in the olympics or the world cup, it just didn’t feel right.” Catherine looked sympathetic, but still shook her head.

“No, no no no you gotta root for the home team, right?” Matthew held out his hands, as if to say he had no other choice in the matter.

“Are you kidding me? Not when we’re literally getting swindled by the government, believing that all of our tax money is going to a good thing but is being a) lost, b) used to kill innocents, and c) probably against us and the planet, creating, as you know, the biggest carbon emissions on the planet called, The U.S. Military. Not to mention the 21 bombs a day that they were dropping on people, random people and cultures the world over with them admitting that they were only hitting about 2% of their targets when they bombed others.” He scooted closer to Catherine, becoming more and more animated, waving his hands dramatically as he talked. He was passionate about some things, and it showed. “That’s a dangerously low number, and I would trust a child to hit more ‘targets’, whatever they may be than the government if it is that low. And who am I to believe that the military is choosing the best targets of people for my tax dollars to kill? Do I want to be paying for murder without me knowing who it is? By being a taxpayer of the US of A, am I paying the military to be a hitman for me to kill people I would have no inkling of a desire to kill? Innocents? The answer, is, of course rhetorically yes. I am taking a hit out on innocents and the government is lying about it and hiding the money.” He finally leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “It is the most heinous thing I could possibly imagine. I could be on trial and locked up in jail for murder of the second degree of another human being because I helped fund this abomination.” He said the word ‘abomination’ with a french accent, blowing and huffing through his nostrils like a bull. “Huh. Hum...” He started harrumphing as well, and Catherine smiled and reached over and grabbed his hand.

“I love it when you go all activist on me.” And in her nodding silence, she acquiesced to his rant, giving him a platform for his principles in their one-on-one. It was difficult to give him a platform publicly, but since the information was leaked a decade ago that the military not only stole 21 trillion from the people but dropped 21+ bombs a day with only a 2% success rate. most citizens were definitely perturbed and many even protested against the government, one of such protests Matthew attended, with the republican party especially trying to label him as “unpatriotic” but those who knew him took up bat for him, especially Catherine, who quickly silenced any naysayers with a speech of what it truly means to be patriotic, to consider yourself a citizen of earth first and foremost, to look out for your fellow human and to stand up for human rights. This speech was one that was widely known and at one point was played over the superbowl halftime to heavy electronica pop band that was making waves at the time.

“Protesting a government that has forgotten and abused its own people is one of the most patriotic things you can do.” She was famous for saying once, at a response to a rally of people who were tired of corporations taking over their much needed jobs with artificial intelligence without giving anything back to them. Poverty hit the US like a landslide or a slowly moving volcano, first taking over the food industry jobs and then taking retail, utilizing smart robots that stocked the shelves and a check-out system that was truly revolutionary – a holographic program that made small talk and easily directed shoppers to special coupons designed just for them based on what they bought that day.

“It is in fact one’s civic duty to protect your most important assets – your freedoms and human rights. These rights are based upon an ever-changing socio-economic landscape and home life, which, unfortunately, leave many homeless. When you have nowhere to go, are homeless and devoid of sustenance or hope, or even are viewing your brothers and sisters having to go through the same, you can call it your job, because your employees, the government aren’t doing theirs.”

There was slight turbulence on the plane, causing Matthew to stare out the window into the dwindling scenery while Catherine wrote on twitter, fingers hitting keys that were purely holographic, not minding the shaking and shuttering going on outside her.

Thinking seriously about abandoning Air Force One for the rest of my term in favor of a lighter, more economical plane. We at the White House must set an example if we are to truly beat the negative effects of climate change! #ecoflying #makeachange #shouldhavedoneitsooner

Then, still typing on Mu, without looking up she tapped Matthew on the heel.

“Ahem, I really think you should make good use of our resident stylist, Matty.” She looked up and gave him a big smile, stretching her face a bit to overdo it. Matthew twirled the tiny straw in the bottom of his cup.

“I know, I know, I could, but where would the fun in that be? I mean, nobody knows I dress myself and the reviews have been mostly good...”

“They have not been good.” Catherine said with a wag of her finger. “Just the other day I saw a picture of you in People magazine with the caption Gringo Goof? When you sported a mexican poncho with sneakers. I would have understood if you wore a sombrero but sneakers? You gotta draw the line somewhere! And!” Matthew started to protest but she interjected. “He’s gay. So you know he’s got good taste.” She smiled coyly.

“Now you’re just profiling.” He said with a sideways smile. “Okay there was the sneaker incident. They got me on sneakergate, you might as well lock me up for a federal offense. But hey, I did not – look at the bright side – I did not wear crocs.” Catherine nodded,

“But I saw your pair of bright green crocs in your second wardrobe, dear. You can’t fool me. I better not catch you out somewhere wearing those or you’ll - be – sorry.” She said these last words menacingly, kicking him in the shin lightly, and Matthew almost spilled his glass.

“Hey! Owch, hey, hey, fine, I’ll behave. Just don’t be surprised if I decide to switch it up every now and then. I may not have the expertise, but I have the ‘it’ factor, the creative, uh, punch, the flair and be tasteful at the same time.”

Catherine sighed, and turned into her book, an award-winning childrens fiction book, and Matthew left her in comfortable silence.

About mid-flight, Catherine got an incoming video call from Allison Kerimyov and her bracelet buzzed and chortled, so she squeezed a bead and a stream of light emitted from it and fell upon the back wall of the cabin, which she faced.

“Oooh, Matthew, it’s Allison!” Catherine exclaimed, smiling in anticipation. Matthew was reading a progressive publication on his own tablet, and glanced up as Allison’s face came up on the projected screen. She was a soft-featured Russian-American whose parents moved to America with a wish and a dream and virtually nothing to their name. Coming up from near poverty to achieve what she had socio-economically had given a confidence to her nature and a determination affixed with a resolve that anything could be accomplished if she put her mind to it. On the screen, her blonde hair waved in the wind as she was standing outside with wind turbines behind her and a male reporter was in the shot, who extatically waved before ducking out of the vision of the camera, his brown beard and bright eyes flashing as Allison waved him away. Matthew stood up attentively, putting down his reading glasses and adjusting his tie. Allison spoke first.

“Cath! Matthew! Greetings from the great plains of Minnesota here, uh, yeah that was Roland, say hi again Roland!” He came back into the shot again and gave a hearty wave.

“Hey, Catherine! I’m a huge fan, by the way!” Catherine laughed and gave him a wave of her hand, the bead able to keep the picture steady with micro-density frequency stabilizers.

“Hi there, Roland. And, Allison! What a beautiful field you have there – my favorite wind flowers in action,” She laughed and so did Allison, while Roland exited off screen.

“Yes, they are beautiful, aren’t they? You know, our friend Whizzy, you know, from the Campaign trail? The one with the beautiful grill?” Catherine nodded.

“I think so.” Catherine met many amazing people on the trail but it was Allison who kept in contact with them on social media and ended up compiling an album and group of people who stayed connected and some of them even co-wrote a few things with Catherine on Mu.

“Well,” she pushed some of her hair away, she was wearing a blazing white sportscoat and a gold blouse, her own bracelet shining as the high-definition camera was bounced back from the surface it rested upon to capture her and her surroundings in a refracted light panel array. “He just shared a picture with me of a wind and solar turbine that he built in his backyard! It was amazing, Cath, just brilliant, he had solar panels above the turbine itself and it looked like a lighthouse, a black, glittering lighthouse, majestic in the sun, like… like a psychedelic power flower giving hot, hot energy to his house!” Matthew and Catherine looked at each other and laughed, Catherine placing a hand on matthew, steadying herself as the plane took a few more turbulent hits to the hull.

“You – you have a crush on him, don’t you? Yeah! Yeah you do!” Allison pursed her lips and shook her head. And then squinted her eyes, smiling and nodded.

“You got me! I think he’s cute!” Catherine couldn’t help but laugh, as nearly every time she talked with Allison was full of laughter and quips, who also came along with her on the campaign trail for a few months. Allison was also in an ‘open relationship’ with her husband, which Catherine liked to rib her about often.

“You always go for the men with golden teeth. I think it screams ‘accomplishment’ where you come from or something. Newsflash! Here in ‘Murrica it just means you don’t know how to floss.” Allison smiled, her accent sometimes shining through although she tried to hide it professionally.

“Oh, Cath, you know I like my men without scruples.” She composed herself, turning to a more serious note. “I heard that you managed to, kind of, fuck up a labor union party?” Catherine rolled her eyes. “Oh god, don’t remind me.” Matthew nodded and cut back to the center of the shot, getting right next to Catherine.

“Yeah, did you see the footage? Her talking points included cutting local jobs and sending them overseas. The crowd just stood there, mouths wide open, looking like they didn’t even know what they were supposed to be doing. But hey, hon, at least you got to mention immediately after how you’re about to set up personal welfare for every citizen because of the displacement of jobs. Jobs, jobs, jobs. That’s all I heard from the government for so long.” Allison shook her head and sighed.

“At least you’re doing something about it, Cath. What you’re promising is more than jobs. What you’re promising is freedom, a new way of life, a counter to this homeless and destitute life that half of Americans have received from the tech companies. And I’m gonna stand by you every meeting, every speech, every – filibuster, if needs be, to see this measure through to the end.” Catherine folded her hands and gave Allison a slight bow, and smiled.

“Thank you, no really, thank you for all of your unmitigated support in this venture. I feel like, honestly, I have so much on my plate that sometimes, just sometimes I feel like I could not do everything that I ever wanted to do in one term, which is why I’m playing it safe with my prepared speeches.” Matthew leaned closer and interjected.

“Playing it safe without being a pawn in someone else’s game, or so we’re hoping. I don’t know what game it is they were playing when they outsourced jobs to Afghanistan, but from what I can tell, everything that Catherine has said that goes against her morals and straight out reviles the American people seem to be from – the military or the oil conglomerates.” He shrugged. “And both seem to be in cohouts with each other, and it makes sense, since our military was once, or still is the leading user of oil on the planet, and most of our military bases are poised to protect our claims on oil reserves the world over.” He looked at Catherine and held out his palms, in a surrendering gesture. “That’s at least what we make of it. Isn’t that right, honey? Big oil and military?” Catherine nodded.

“Or, the military industrial complex. Which, thankfully has been weakened by legislation that puts electric cars on the road, even forcibly so. But there are jet planes and hummers and transport vehicles and aircraft carriers that still use natural gas or fuels so… there’s still a ways to go.” Allison pursed her lips.

“If only there was another way to fuel airplanes and… rockets and things like that.” She said thoughtfully, tilting her head and taking a backwards glance at the windmills that were twirling in the noonday sun.

“Agreed,” Matthew said. “It’s probably out there, we just need to find it.” And suddenly, Catherine remembered Dakolon and his network of spirits, and a cryptic smile crept on her face.

“There might be a way to find it… I’ll just have to call on some – people, and get back with you.” Allison looked surprised.

“Like, a secret meeting? Don’t you know that all of your calls and emails are bugged by the CIA? And they are notoriously in bed with the oil companies and the military as well – you could get fired just like that somehow, or even worse!” Allison held up a hand, shaking her head. “Be careful, Cath. I wouldn’t be caught talking to the wrong kind of people in your position.” Catherine scoffed.

“Wrong people? These ‘people’” She used quotation marks there, “Are the best kind of people earth has to offer, giving us on a platter the salvation of our ecosystem as we know it. You should know this more than anyone.” Then, she smiled “But don’t worry. My methods of talking to these people are incredibly secure. Everything will be done safely.” Then there was a strange silence, as none of them wanted to talk about this subject anymore as to cause those listening in to have any sinister designs upon any of them, and they all looked at each other in a slightly alarmed way, then looked away as Allison broke the silence.

“Well, there is a chief of staff meeting right before the G7 summit, as you know, where we are to discuss strategies specifically about climate change. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about and bring to the forefront, Cath?” Cath squinted her eyes and mussed with her hair. Then stood upright as she had an epiphany.

“Well, yes! This just came to me, but I have an idea that would completely deflect any corporate lobbying. Or, we could just make lobbying congress and the senate illegal altogether?”

Matthew laughed this time, sarcastically sweeping his hand dramatically.

“Get rid of lobbying? Good luck. The corporations have their hands so deep in the pockets of congress especially, it would take an all out war for them to let go of that kind of power. None of the congress or hardly any of the senate would agree to such a thing. You would need to start a revolution of sorts. But, I promise, once this happens, legislation to end big oil interests and lobbying will be over and our fight to save the earth from carbon emissions fallout will be that much easier, as you know.”

Catherine smiled, holding a secret, an ace of spades in her hand. She felt giddy, as one who was about to play a supremely winning hand and take all the chips on the table.

“Yes – yes, I have something. An idea that would circumvent all of this, something democratically inclined, so to speak.” She winked at them. “I will unveil this step-by-step idea at the staff meeting, as well as at the G7 summit.” Allison clapped her hands excitedly.

“Oooh, Cathy has another idea! I swear, girl, you are a force to be reckoned with. A creative force, for sure! Are you going to give any hints to us? To Matty?” She pleaded, giving her best pouty expression, her hair fluttering in the wind. Catherine shook her head.

“Uh uhh, its a secret, really, until I can get the plans all together, the schematics working and all whatnot, I can’t really divulge much information. Even to you, Matty.” She looked over at Matthew and gave him a consoling pat on the arm. “Too sensitive for this one,” She said, looking at Allison’s picture on the wall and gave her a nod, as if sharing a secret. “He’ll probably just tweet it or put it all over Mu and then MSNBC will spoil it for everyone and then nobody will get it for months because of ‘beauracracies’.” Allison sniggered.

“Yeah, like that day he tweeted about the solar powered drones? Those were going to be for the U.S. post office!” They all started laughing. Matthew retorted, scratching his head.

“How was I supposed to know that the department of homeland security would get involved? And why, for fucks sake?” Allison and Catherine got serious for a second, and gave each other a sideways glance.

“Matthew,” Catherine interjected, with some timidity. “I thought we discussed that… it too was… the oil companies...” Matthew sighed and gave Catherine a hug.

“I guess there’s no getting around it, huh. Every good idea, just thrown to the wind.” She looked him in the eyes, in an embrace.

“I know it feels like it’s us against the world. But we have a whole cabinet with us, and most of the Senate. How about we stick our noses out for the win and even if we come in second or third, we still get some good things accomplished, hmm?” Catherine smiled into him and Allison seemed to share their tender moment. Matthew let go of her in deference to Allison and gave a long sigh.

“Well, it’s all going to be more than okay, I guess, as you always say – don’t worry about anything because worrying doesn’t fix anything. As long as you are safe in broad scheme of things, I am okay.”

“As am I.” Allison interjected. “We still have a lot of work to do, and I would be remiss if I were without my favorite activist who happens to be president. You – you don’t give yourself enough credit for all of the good you have done already, Cath.” Matthew nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, you really have done a lot.” He said. Catherine looked nonplussed, agitated.

“But there’s so much yet to do! For one thing, I aim to put forward legislation that would outlaw plastic bags. I will suggest it during both G7 and the staff meeting, something that I may need your help in getting off the ground, Allison.” She looked pleadingly at her friend glowing on the screen and Allison nodded and furrowed her brow.

“Of course, of course, Cath. You know I have your back. I’m going to pull some strings in the state department, and if we can’t get this measure put through on the federal level, we can probably have each individual states vote as to how much they want to help save the earth, if they want.” She said with a biting tone, pointing her finger towards them and rolling her eyes. “Though, I’m not sure how successful that would be as plastics are made of...” she paused. And they all responded in unison,

“Oil.” with Matthew a little late.

“Yeah, oil.” He laughed. “I’m just glad its not edible, or our oil reserves would put earth on a terminal level of danger.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard,” Allison said. “If the earth’s oil reserves get too low, the structure can be compromised.” Catherine looked pensive.

“Interesting…” And she gave Matthew a worried look. He cocked his head, eyebrows raised.

“What is it, Cath? What’s bothering you?” Catherine gave a long sigh and then addressed Allison.

“Remember our last staff meeting where most of my talking points about giving a universal basic income were overrun by so much talking about finding new jobs?” Allison nodded, and interjected.

“But, remember where I interrupted defense secretary Corbin Hargrave that we needed to listen to you, and it seemed that you had the only viable option?” Catherine shrugged.

“But even then, nobody was really listening to you. It’s like whenever anybody talks about universal basic income, nobody is willing to listen. Even the news stations gloss over it when talking about the intense poverty that has overcome our nation. I mean, here I am in – in - in a jumbo jet,” Catherine was furiously stuttering now, something she did when she got upset. “And millions of Americans were kicked out of their homes and placed in poverty out of mere circumstances.” She shook her head. “I just hope that people will listen to me this time.” Allison looked away, pensively, putting her hand on her mouth, then stared back at Catherine.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love, love all of the cabinet members you have chosen. Greg Tullard is the best Chief of Staff you can have, all muscle, all grit and brains, love him, really. And Kathy Coates-Gilles really brings a – flair of utility – to the secretary of education position… Really, I love everyone you have, even your vice president Bardiem whom you didn’t even get to pick, such a shame that they are chosen for you by the ‘powers that be’” Catherine shrugged.

“Without which, I probably wouldn’t be here, in office.”

“True,” Matthew interjected. “Sad but true.”

“But!” Allison pointed a finger to the sky, lowering her head, her golden hoop earrings swaying in the wind. “I believe in you, Catherine,” She used Catherine’s full name whenever she was making a point. “And will follow you, as I said, until the glaciers all melt and the sun burns the plains of Kansas too much so that… wheat cannot grow there anymore.” She said this dramatically, shaking her head, and causing Catherine and Matthew to look at each other and smile. “And I will do this all, as long as I get my coffee.” She breathed heavily and looked back to somebody, who was telling her to wrap it up, probably Roland out of frame, signaled to him and then looked back, hands clasped in front. “Well, it seems I am out of time. We really should get coffee sometime, Cath! We’ve gotta catch up more, it’s been awhile...”

“Yes it has!” Catherine exclaimed.

“And I have a theory as to why your ideas aren’t being heard in staff meetings… It has to do with corporate buyouts. Meaning, I think some of your staff members are compromised.” Catherine and Matthew looked at each other surprisingly and Allison just brushed it off. “Well, I’ll see you at the staff meeting for sure. Have to go! Bye, Matthew, So long Cath!” They both waved at the screen and it flickered off, the bead on Catherine’s bracelet setting back into the band, retreating into place.

Matthew sat down and mussed his hair, staring out the plane window.

“Well, that was strange…” He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows. Catherine was also at a loss.

“Definitely, just throwing out corruption charges at the end as if its an afterthought? Yeesh. I hope there’s no truth to that.” She replied, and Matthew shook his head and looked pensively at Catherine.

“I wonder what Commodore oil has in store for us, being the very image of everything they are trying to silence and destroy. I am glad we requested even more security here at these proceedings because to be honest, I don’t trust big oil as far as I can throw them.”

“I would try and throw them away,” Catherine said with a laugh.

“Ha! Agreed.” Matthew replied, then left Catherine to her reading, but they both more or less stared out the plane windows for the duration of the flight, contemplating what these allegations might mean for them.

The somewhat chilly night encompassed them, aides scrambling to retrieve loads of suitcases from the cargo (Matthew had the bulk of them), and Matthew wished he had the scarf with him, although it was only April. Catherine and Matthew were greeted by a woman clad in all black, with dark sunglasses, the wind almost taking off her stylish bonnet and as she grabbed it with one hand, the dark-haired wiry lady waved at them with another.

“Madame President! Welcome to Anchorage, I do hope your trip was safe here, you must forgive me but we have so many people to meet on your first day here so we must be going.” She feigned a smile, then immediately turned to her resting frown on her face, which unsettled Catherine immensely. “My name is Kim Dalton, it’s a pleasure,” She said, reaching out her hand to Catherine and Matthew.

“Er, you can just call me Catherine” Catherine replied, looking questioningly over at Matthew, who took Kim’s hand and tried his best to be friendly.

“Only a bit of turbulence on the flight here.” He looked at Catherine. “We’re actually considering opting out of using the Air Force One during her term, something we just tweeted about a few hours ago.” Then he glanced back at Kim and gave her his best smile. “Is – er – are there any good places to eat around here? We are absolutely famished.” Kim shook her head and clapped her hands, signaling two men in suits to carry their luggage to the motorcade that was awaiting them.

“Nonsense, we will have our executive chefs make our dinner at commodore. It is strange that you would want to get rid of Air Force One, being such a magnanimous symbol of American prosperity for the White House. I would suggest that you keep it, and keep your status as a successful President intact.” Catherine narrowed her eyes, shaking her head.

“No, a government’s success is determined by how we take care of our people, not by some overpriced, magnanimous status symbol.” Matthew nodded in agreement, then said under his breath to Catherine,

“Yeah, they would want us to keep it for the oil money.” Kim pretended she didn’t hear that and feigned a smile.

“Fine. Do what you will with your plane, but know that you will only be disappointing the American people.” She said snidely. “Tis such a shame such a beautiful plane would not be used and go to waste.” She then gestured to the motorcade. “Please, follow me.”

The motorcade took a winding trail to what seemed to be a large mansion, which alarmed Catherine because she was expecting to speak at the oil refinery to talk to the workers about universal basic income, something that would displace their jobs that were being taken away from them. She leaned forward and rapped on the glass in the limousine.

“Um, excuse me, I believe we are at the wrong place. We’re supposed to arrive at the commodore refinery?” There were holes in the glass between the driver and Catherine and Matthew, so she heard them but the driver still shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, choosing to go mute to ignore them and continue driving. Matthew turned to Catherine and gave her a strained look and knocked on the plexiglass himself.

“Hello? I think we’re at the wrong place.” The driver just waved a hand in their direction and pulled up to the brick mansion with a circular driveway and a fountain in the courtyard in the middle. Matthew looked forlornly at Catherine. “I don’t think she’s listening to us.” The driver, a redhead with blazing green eyes and dressed smartly with a black driver’s cap, got out of the car and opened their door to let them out. Matthew was having none of it, and got out and tried to reason with her. “This doesn’t smell right. This wasn’t on our itinerary, ma’am. Ma’am? Did you get that? We are scheduled to talk to the workers at the oil refinery.” Catherine put a hand on Matthew’s shoulder and tried to gather her bearings. Matthew turned back to Catherine. “Honey, let’s just wait and see what happens. I’m sure this is some kind of mix up or something and is perfectly innocent.” Catherine twitched her nose, closed her eyes, shook her head, breathed in the unnaturally warm Alaskan air and breathed out slowly – something she picked up from a camper on her travels to Europe to relieve stress.

“Okay.” She finally said. Matthew smiled, knowing that somehow that whenever she did that, everything turned out alright, kind of like her own magic spell.

“There. You feel better? We can do this thing.” He gestured to the limo driver to leave while some men in suits stood by the door, smiling, seeming almost sinister in their attempts to make their guests feel at ease. All four of them were older, but one black haired, pointy nosed man stepped forward and spoke for all of them.

“Greetings, Catherine, and Matthew, welcome to Montecalo estate. It is here where you will be having a meeting with the, ehm, board of trustees of Commodore.” Catherine glared at him.

“I could care less what the owners of Commodore are up to. I came to see the workers, to offer them hope for a new life and stability.” Matthew interjected, angrily swiping his hand.

“I know what you’ve been up to. I’ve been wanting to give you guys a piece of my mind for awhile. You’ve been raping and pillaging the earth and creating natural disasters for personal profit, on top of silencing all other renewable energy sources! You should be in prison!” Catherine shushed him, holding a finger up, putting on a diplomatic air.

“I’m sure there’s a way we can talk to them. Where are your workers? Did they not get the memo that we were coming?” The man in the slick black hair sniffed back at them.

“Most of them have been laid off, no thanks to your administration. They are probably searching for new jobs, which are hard to find these days.” Catherine scowled at him, pointing her finger in his face.

“That is exactly what I came to talk about, universal basic-” He swiped her finger away, and interrupted.

“Something that is likely not to happen, and shouldn’t, thanks to our Republican house of representatives. But that is beside the point. We have matters to discuss and our time is precious.” The sun shone almost too brightly against their hasty eyelids, everyone eyeing each other like in a cowboy standoff. He didn’t let the silence last too long, however. “My name is Morgan, Morgan Atwell,” He traded his cold sneer for a more affable smile and gestured to the door. “Allow me to show you inside.” The ivory-like carved door opened and they were met with another fountain in a stateroom with dual winding stairways behind it. It was mostly decked out in an off-white with gold trim, reminiscent of drug-lord mansions of South America of the 1980s. The art in the room, Catherine noticed, was all very exquisite and modern, with busts of unidentifiable figures and twisting metal sculptures.

“I like the artistic tastes of whoever lives here.” Catherine said, eyeing one particular painting with a faded portrait of a goldfinch. One of the other greying, balding men who followed them into the room nodded and pointed at a black marble sculpture of what seemed to be a squid-like entity.

“Yes, that one and that one over there are Frederick Monards, a french sculptor that is rising in the ranks very quickly, he was featured at our gala last year. He won the Fautin award for his work in the lourve.” He spoke in a whiny tone of voice, with the ends of his sentence trailing off to a whisper, causing Catherine and Matthew to lean in uncomfortably, then lean back, nodding as if they understood. Morgan shook his head, obviously displeased that one of them had spoken, and quickly shooed them all into a side room.

“Nevermind, here, let us convene in the study.” Catherine was about to make an objection, but she withdrew her feelings and decided to just go with it. Whatever was happening was a part of fate’s balance, in her line of reasoning, and she mouthed ancient words of protection over herself and felt a familiar chill down her spine. Morgan continued speaking to them and waving them into a seating arrangement surrounded by three more older male guests, all of them white, in vaguely the same kind of suit. “You may know, or have heard of our CFO, John Donnel, he recently brokered a trade deal with Venezuela to gain control over a large number of their oil fields last year.” He sniffed, eyeing Catherine with a leer. “We may be an over-regulated company but we still have good business partners the world over.” Matthew stood out as the lone male with a purple houndstooth print shirt with a western-style string and brooch tie around his neck, sporting also some black cowboy boots. His deepset eyes darted around the room, scanning and evaluating the over-classed room.

“I hope that whoever’s in there can give us a good reason for this mix up. It would have been extremely easy to bring your workers all to a meeting with the President, but instead you steal even that from them while you sip wine from your -” He sniffed, looking back at Morgan in the eyes, challenging him with a swipe of the hand. “Ivory tower. This place is a disgrace to your company and your workers you laid off. This house alone could help cover the misplaced jobs of dozens of your workers. Where are the repercussions of the government’s shut down of oil prospects on your lives? It is always the bottom 80% of laborers who get the bad end of the deal, while the rich get off scott free. This is an outrage! There needs to be equality in the ways the company was punished for its flagrant crimes against the world.”

This rant was heard, however much the intent of Matthew, by the rest of the board sitting in the study around a circular table, and some of them began to shift uncomfortably. Catherine just stood back and smiled slyly to herself, letting her activist husband do what he wants with the crowd he wanted. Here he was in his natural element, his years of teaching Humanities at Oberlin University paying off as he had dreamt of saying these words to these exact people as he was saying them before enthralled students many times before. One of the men at the ornate table in what was a glorified library with mirrors on the vaulted walls and a grand clock in it spoke up, choosing to ignore Matthew’s comments. He had a thick moustache which twitched when he spoke, making him look like an old prospector from the wild west as he spoke slowly and articulately.

“Why don’t you all sit down, we have -” He cleared his throat and scanned some papers in front of him, “Much to talk about here and we would like to get right to the point.” He said, trying to deflect any accusations. But Matthew was insistent, coming up to the table and putting his finger down on the table.

“The government fined and shut down the decision makers of this company, and it is you who should be out of a job, sir.” He looked behind him at Catherine for her approval, saying “Right?” and she nodded and shrugged, giving an up-eybrowed, pouted mouth sign of conceding, and he straightened back to face the three men sitting at the table. “The blue-collar workers didn’t do anything wrong. They were just taking orders from you corrupt magnates. And whose house is this? I thought we shut down your operating business? How can you continue to make millions,” He looked around the room, “Or billions, from the looks of it, when we took away your refineries?” One of the men who may aw well have been a russian nesting doll with the rest of them scoffed.

“We don’t have to listen to you. Our deal is with your wife, the president. You have no say in what happens governmentally. You were just brought here as a support, because apparently she has to bring along her watch-dog, her pet who does all of the barking for her.” Catherine stepped forward, and was the first of all standing to take a seat and addressed all of the men in the room, making sure to look at everyone in attendance.

“What my husband says is a direct reflection of what my administration and the White House believes and will act upon, if need be.” She squinted her eyes, feeling as if she was about to pull out a gun in what could have been a western shoot-off. “Do I need to sign an executive order to have you give over up to 80% of your assets over to the employees you fired as severance? Maybe it should be all of it and I can also sign another to put everyone here in jail. But I am feeling fair.” She nodded her head and sat back, in a less threatening pose. “Is this what you have brought me here to debate with you? Your very livelihoods and freedoms? Because at this point, I believe that is what is on the table.” Morgan at this point had stepped up to join his comrades at the opposite end of the large table to where Catherine and now Matthew were sitting, and sat down, and gave a slight chuckle.

“It is doubtful that Congress would allow such a ridiculous proposal to be made without revoking it. Much of Congress are still our allies and will do what we say. And, may I remind you that our military is still run mostly on oil. Of which we still have a stake in as well, so you may think of it as our military as much as it is yours.” Catherine put her hand down on the table, challenging him.

“But I am the highest ranking member of the military and it does what I say, not yourself. ��I do not usually like to pull rank, Mr. Atwell. But being the highest ranking official, I can do what I wish to do with you and your company for, as my husband truthfully said, your crimes against humanity and what I wish to do is to offer you 20% of your company’s capital, in exchange for your freedom, which you can keep. Although putting your workers out of a job is fault enough for me to remove yours, equal crime, equal punishment.” One of Morgan’s fellow suits interjected, and tried to back him up.

“The government has no right to interfere with businesses! How we conduct our affairs is up to us, when you start to supersede the free market, the government becomes too powerful.” Matthew looked fed up and shook his head.

“No, it is because the government didn’t intervene soon enough that we got so far into climate change as we did, and now we as a planet are spiraling to destruction. Did you know India is almost uninhabitable during the summer months because it is getting too hot?” Matthew looked at Catherine matter-of-factly. “And aren’t government subsidies the ultimate way of interfering with the so called ‘free market’? Thankfully, we are almost on the brink of de-subsidizing oil in America so that this chaos and destruction will be out of our hands.” He looked back at the men gathered around the table and waved his hand exasperatingly. “It turns out, it is the government’s fault for supporting this crime all along. Soon,” He pointed at Morgan, who was trying to hide a scowl on his face. “Oil will be outlawed to use and everyone will have electric cars and trucks and the likes of you will not be around anymore. So you better enjoy all this unnecessary affluence now, as soon it won’t be yours to have.” Morgan, who identified himself as the leader of the seven men surrounding them, was especially riled at Matthew’s attack on his wealth, who started wringing his hands nervously.

“This house is mine, and I assure you, that the government has no right to seize it or my assets. If done, I will take it all the way to the supreme court, who will likely rule in my favor, being like minded in constitutionality. And aren’t you always saying that it is the meat industry that causes a majority of carbon emissions? I believe it is more likely their fault, not ours that India has become like it is.” Matthew rolled his eyes.

“Oh, so now you admit that climate change is caused by your company? Great to have you finally on board, after dozens of animals and species have gone extinct and countless other disasters have – have pummeled the earth. You who have been denying this crime for decades.” Morgan went silent at this, bending down his head in thought, then looked up smiling, showing them a full set of very white teeth.

“It is not I who have brought the carbon dioxide but my predecessors.” Catherine took in the general age of every suit in attendance. It probably was about 58.

“And some of your colleagues. Are you new to this company?” He looked defiantly into her eyes.

“Yes. We have a proposition for you. Your predecessor brought our company down and halted all of our progress.” Matthew scoffed.

“Progress? Of killing the planet?” He said, with a state of unbelief.

“We had built up our company to enormous entities, outmaneuvering even BP as a leading performer on the global market. We were decimated. All of our time building, and immaculate speculating on the trade strata, gone, in an instant.” Catherine started to shake her head, tapping the table.

“But it was Donald Trump who took away regulations and gave you ties with oil magnates in Russia.” Catherine felt like she couldn’t have held this one in. Morgan snarled at her, because this wasn’t public knowledge. She was actually reading WikiLeaks, something that the common person felt they had no time for in the grand scheme of things.

“That was just a small blip in the glorious acquisition we had during the next four years. Nothing could have prepared us for the wealth that came from acquiring much of Venezuela. It was a time of passion, growth, expansion, luminosity. The entire world was unfolding to us like… like a geisha lifts her dress to a suitor.” Matthew hissed, looking at his wife as if saying “Can you believe this guy?” Catherine shrugged, and Morgan continued, a look of enrapturement gone from his face.

“So now we are at an impasse, my company and yours, as we once were a team, a twin tour de force in the world economical stage. We would give suggestions and you would come running at us with answers and responses to the suggestions...” he smiled again, looking away distantly as if Catherine and Matthew weren’t there. “There was nothing we could not do together.” Catherine spat.

“Two crooks in a pod. You were a regular Bonnie and Clyde.” He eyed her wistfully.

“But there is no reason why we couldn’t do business again. Come, let us be reasonable. We have representatives in the White House making sure things run smoothly between us.” Catherine gasped, and her mind flashed to Semicontra. She knew there were operatives still working for her, but she wasn’t sure how many, and to do a full investigation would take more intel and manpower than she could afford, but it was one she was willing to do. Morgan must have sensed her mind spinning, so he swatted his hand and looked away, seeming bored.

“Don’t worry about trying to find all of them. That would be like trying to find all the white shells at a beach, it is impossible, you must know. Besides, you’re not the only one who is ‘in tune with’ powerful abilities. There are some of us who have begun to grasp the ability to read minds.” He looked at her again, grinning. “We can now trace your every thought and action and find ways to subvert you at every move.” Catherine decided to try and look more surprised than she actually was, as she honestly had the same ability but thought she was one of the only ones who could occasionally do it. Apparently, she thought, Morgan was on top of his game.

“Impossible,” She hissed at him. He smiled again.

“So. Can we count on your cooperation? For your, ahem, health and well being?” He paused, reaching for an envelope from his jacket, and quickly opened it. “From what I can see here,” He said, scanning the document, then putting it blithely back into his suit. “We are willing to offer you ten million dollars a year to play along. Namely, to walk and just let your Vice President Victoria Bardiem do the rest of the work from here on out. You can tell people that you felt you weren’t just up for the job. Having no experience in government and not understanding now how the game is played, you realize that you just don’t have the skills to play it.” Catherine quickly was reminded by Dakolon and the spirits that were coming to the White House. She mused to herself that if she were to keep talking to Dakolon intermittedly, she would be able to find these operatives and fire them immediately. She smiled, knowing she was holding not one but two cards in her hand that might just help turn the tide in her favor, having highly attuned extrasensory abilities, even to the point of mind reading at rare moments, and her cat, or rather, soon to be cats, she guessed. She smiled back at him but Matthew was the one who spat at the seven mostly quiet men who a few were smiling but most of them looking strangely stoic in the midst of the volatile situation.

“You’re just telling her to resign because you know that she won’t cave and do your dirty work for you.” Morgan looked at Matthew with an air of incredulousness.

“I’m finding the path of least resistance,” Morgan agreed.

“You are disgusting.” Matthew retorted. “All of you. I can’t believe this display of pure evil and depravity.” He then added, stuttering, getting really emotional, “You – you - you can’t put a pricetag on killing the Earth. This is the only planet we have. I know my wife, and she would never agree to do something this heinous.” Catherine felt aglow at the confidence boost from her husband, being shaken by the figure of ten million a year but remember turning that ridiculous number down before, when she was the star and one of the producers of her own reality TV show. One thing she had learned from her dad, a stout and hardy rough, long bearded teacher named Byron Harper, was that you should never chase wealth for the sake of wealth. It would always corrupt.

“He is right, I’m afraid. There are no zeroes before a decimal that could change my mind about this. I know Victoria will follow you, if it comes to it. She has told me more than a few times. Which is why I am told I was even given a chance with the media and the super delegates in the first place. Your influence in the media is waning, though, and they, for the most part, are now on the side of progress and saving the earth from certain catastrophe.” She stared at them intently. “And it is through this partnership of myself and the media that I truly believe can beat whatever game you are playing here,” She announced this with forceful clarity, playing her most obvious card and keeping her two hidden cards to herself always. She had only told Matthew that she was sometimes telepathic, and she would tell only him of her communication with Dakolon and the other spirits, when they come. She kept hearkening back to her experience with the air spirit and it’s immeasurable effects on her soul, lifting them from a near constant depressed state about the earth and where it is going, to something more optomistic. She even had to see a Therapist for, Dr. Miles Oconnor, a frizzy red headed, cautious and reserved specialist in treating people who had become depressed singularly because of climate change. She pondered sometimes if she should tell her therapist, but she feared she would be declared unfit for duty, something the House Republicans had threatened because of her past Wiccan ideologies. Matthew pounded his hand on the polished wooden table and scanned the room.

“I believe, gentlemen, that we indeed are at an impasse.” His bushy grey eyebrows twiched, and he pushed his glasses up his nose emphatically, and Catherine could feel his heart growl like a dog. Being so incredibly “in tune” made her aware of her husband’s every heart palpitation, his every strong feeling, whenever his very nerves screamed in one certain direction. She put her hand on her heart in that moment, because whenever this happened, she liked to feel the same thing, her taking a deep breath, and glaring at Morgan and the others as well. He then motioned to Catherine with his left hand, as she was on his left, and pat her on the shoulder. “Come on, Cath, it’s time to go. We have no more to talk about with these creeps.” One of the grey haired suits laughed at them, changing from his constant eerie smile after being silent for so long.

“Ha! You have no idea how much power we have!” Catherine whirled around and shook her head.

“No! I have no idea how much money you have. And soon, with lobbying congress to become illegal, money will no longer equal power in government.” The man blanched, mouth agape, obviously taken aback by these turn of events. “Oh? Don’t act so surprised. There are 78 members of congress who have turned their backs on any dirty money from corporate sponsors and there are plenty more to come.” She turned to Matthew and smiled, sharing something they both were excited about, and had talked about many times eagerly with their friends and compatriots. “The legislation is being drafted as we speak. We may not get a majority in the House right now, but we have the Senate.” She turned back to the group and waved her fingers at them with a twirl, accentuating her words as she smiled with her eyes, knowing she had won whatever game the oil magnates were playing. “Your days of controlling politics and the climate are over.” She said to a group of fuming suits, Morgan standing up in defiance.

“And your days of holding the office of President are over, Catherine. Our operatives will find a way to circumvent you and your far-fetched policies.” But Morgan was talking to their backs, as they walked out the door without even saying goodbye, except for Matthew calling out behind them,

“Don’t worry, we’ll see ourselves out.” Catherine breathed, feeling all of a sudden creeped out by the black, metal sculptures and the modern, still-life art in the causeway to the main doors. “That felt like an all out war,” She said, holding her hand to her heart again, as it was beating rapidly. She felt flush, overwhelmed with the threats and the melodrama that just played out, and inwardly reminded herself to restabilize. Matthew huffed, took off his glasses and started to wipe them on his shirt.

“Glasses got foggy.” Was his reply. He kept wiping, and Catherine scanned the estate searchingly, looking at the overpriced gilding on the columns and the gazebo to around back, which was hard to spy, with the mammoth house blocking what was behind it. There was a trail that seemed to lead towards a garden back behind the structure, with orchids lining the sidewalk and elm trees planted in a straight line even further back. Catherine breathed heavily again, trying to shake off stress.

“I think I need to meditate.” She looked at Matthew’s eyes as he squinted, trying to understand what she was saying. Something seemed to dawn upon him, and he put his glasses back on.

“In the car,” he offered. She shook her head, putting her finger to her chin, still glancing around, until she found a solid magnolia tree about a hundred feet away that was sitting all alone just before the forest line after it.

“No, here,” She said matter-of-factly, and started walking towards the tree. Matthew looked like he was in the process of accidentally swallowing a spider.

“No!” He objected trying to cut her off and walk in front of her. “What if- yeah, they can see you from the house. I don’t think this is a good idea, Cath” and he looked warily back at the house and tried to direct her by waving his hands towards the limousine like a aircraft signaler directing jets onto an airliner. She waved him off, laughing.

“No, I’m fine, if only I had my stones I could do some real damage here...” She sniffed, gauging the energy from the house to the magnolia. “This tree is the sole bastion of good energy emitting from this area. I can see its aura, it’s very bright and wide. If I ground myself here, I can use the tree as a tether into the spiritual realm. It will only take a few minutes!” She exclaimed when Matthew started to look slightly horrified, although he usually supported Catherine in her beliefs and practices, it was him who consoled her and brought her out of staunch Wiccan theology and practices into more “New Age”, as she had explained in one of her video blogs on Mu. Her blogs gained national popularity and even her speeches were put to electronica, spurring her wide fan base to the billions. She kept a regular circulation of breathing, as she was following a feeling , like an illusive fairy in the breath one has to catch to gain a wish, and her wish was resolution and justice in her situation. Justice, she thought now, sending the fateful wish out to the heavenlies, spreading her desire like seed onto the etherial soil that is the shared consciousness of space time. She even whispered it sometimes to herself right before a well-televised meeting or before encountering General _______ for her defense requirements.

Catherine got down on the solid ground underneath the large magnolia tree, that was big enough that she could play in its branches, paying no heed to her pantsuit, flowing black maroon, and instantly grounded herself. Closing her eyes, she focused on her breath, trying to ignore Matthew who was saying something like “President can do whatever the damn well she wants.” She trained herself early on to block all other stimuli out from her meditations. Instantly, bursting into view of her mind’s eye, she saw her “soul tree”, as she called it, flowering, and almost ready to sprout fruit, which happened whenever she was about to create something. It was a Georgia peach tree, like one she had eaten from at her house when she was a child living in South Carolina, and it’s flowers glistened with a rainbow of spectrum as she held each flower in her breath, focusing on them as goading the fruit to come into existence. Sometimes she would breathe on these flowers until they bore ripe peaches, which she would then eat in her mind’s eye and then write in her journal or on Mu. Her “eye of the mind” was a black space where she interpreted the world through in meditation, happening on a “screen” of 3d imagination. Whenever she focused on one of her chakras, a flower would sprout and even get a life of its own and morph into all kinds of imaginary things like dragons or angels, that she created and nourished while focusing on her breath. This time, a tower came up from her pineal gland chakra and became a grand lighthouse colored white and black with little elves running running up and down the stairs and operating a pulley system that took the peaches from her tree to the top of the tower, and they all turned into a liquid-crystal that started to bathe the mansion in her mind, as she was focusing on it, in pinkish light. That light sparkled and illuminated some dark figures inside the mansion, who were now looking at her through the blinds.

“What – what is she doing?” Demanded Morgan from his other peers, who were all gathered around the window, glaring at Catherine from inside. One man leered from over his shoulder, squinting in the sunlight.

“It – it looks like she’s summoning her demons!” he gasped. There erupted a slight murmer from the rest of the gentleman, and one of them said, “Damn punitive witch.” Morgan blanched. His eyes darted to his wristband, which he had an inkling to use to call the police. But someone behind him voiced his idea.

“Should we call the police?” Upon hearing it, Morgan knew it was a bad idea and he scowled, being accustomed to other people voicing his thoughts since becoming initiated at a secret psychic ritual, and hating it every time.

“Dammit, fool! You can’t call the police on the president! We would be the laughingstock of all of the news tomorrow! Especially when she’s…” he shuddered “Meditating.” He said this with disdain, as someone who was told to increase his psychic powers with meditation but hated the idea and practice.

“Well, what should we do?” whined the man who suggested calling the police. Morgan saw Matthew looking at him intently from the magnolia tree while Catherine was sitting in a half-lotus position, eyes closed. He stood brazenly in the window, making no effort to hide his distaste in the situation.

“We send Terry out to get them to vacate our land and property if she’s still there in ten minutes!” Terry, the butler, wavered. He was slightly older than most in the group at 75, and was an admirer of Catherine and all that she was trying to accomplish. He had a worried expression on his face and his moustache twitched anxiously as he was trying to think of other ways in which he could help besides accosting the President in her sacred space.

“And what if that doesn’t work? What if she doesn’t move?” He whimpered. Morgan glared at him.

“She’ll move, or else…” He growled. One of the gentleman looked at him questioningly.

“Or else, what?” He turned around, seething, eyes wild and piercing.

“Or else I’ll figure it out, you idiot!”

Catherine was lost in her head space. She was trying to decode the meaning of the tower and the pink light that was being cast upon the mansion in her imagination. She peered through this light, noticing the auras of the men inside becoming more and more hostile, except for one, which she suspected was going to be sent outside to accost them. Not wanting that to happen, she willed her higher self to act, which she viewed as a prism of rainbow-colored light sometimes and other times, a white bull. This time, however, her higher self, who was hovering above her appeared as a little girl and jumped off a swing she was swinging on and jumped down to the ground, turning around and smiling at Catherine. The little girl was black and had her hair pulled up into what looked like two fluffy ears. The girl laughed, and pulled out a hand-held windmill and started to blow and another brick house flew from a distance, being caught by the wind and settled onto a field behind the gardens. She saw in the distance another house, looking like a duplex but perhaps more modern, coming flying in and landing upon the ground. The pink light was illuminating figures working in the gardens, shapes of vegetables flying up from the ground to enormous heights and sizes, creating giant pink tomatoes and melons. Matthew was sitting as calmly as he could beside her when she opened her eyes.

“I got it.” She smiled, turning to Matthew, and clapped her hands, grinning. Matthew’s eyebrows twitched.

“Huh? What did you get? Hey, Cath, somebody is coming to tell us to get the hell off this plantation.” And there was Terry, gingerly wringing his hands together while slowly walking over to him. She waved to Terry, getting up from her seated position.

“Hi! We were just leaving.” Matthew laughed nervously.

“Um – yes, we were just – er, appreciating this tree here.” Matthew said. Terry smiled.

“I know what you were doing. And I fully support it. But my employers wish to tell you that you cannot do that here and must leave immediately.” He put a finger in the air, closing his eyes.

“But this does not reflect my opinions of what you are doing. If it were up to me, I would let you stay all day. Who is to say where someone can or cannot meditate?” Catherine blushed, wiping the dirt from her dress.

“But it is their property, we completely understand. We will be leaving now. Thank you for understanding.” Terry smiled and turned around, walking back towards the house. Matthew glanced at Catherine.

“So, what did you ‘get’?” Catherine grinned and started walking with Matthew to the limousine.

“The House is sure to uphold this idea. Check it out – I executive orderly turn this property into ---” She paused for a second, elongating the “o”, while Matthew looked expectantly. “A gardening community where the workers who got laid off by the governmental intrusion would be given a free place to stay and more houses will be built on this property for all of those workers and their families!”

Matthew laughed, taking his glasses and wiping them against his sleeve.

“Haha, executive orderly. I like your executive orderly idea, is that what you got while sitting down and getting your butt all dirty?” He teased, wiping some dirt off her dress. Matthew gave her a sly look. “Couldn’t you have just thought about it really hard though instead of getting us kicked off the property?” She nodded her head, ducking into the limousine.

“Perhaps.”

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