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templeofgloom · 3 years

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Be yourself; everyone else is already taken

Summary: Young Lara Croft is at the crossroads in her life. Meeting an elderly archaeologist gives her some insight on what she should do. Based on the original 90's version of Lara Croft and her backstory.

Lara Croft took a deep breath.

This was fine.

Before her father had time to say anything more she turned around. "Sorry, Father. I think I should go and mingle."

She stepped to the door and opened it. If her father wanted to say something more he'd have to cause a scene.

But he was too much of a coward to!

Lara stepped out, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She was trembling and didn't want her father to see it.

"Lara!"

She turned to look at the blonde man. "Oh, there you are. Dear." She spat out the last word out like a curse.

The Earl of Farringdon paused for a moment, before smiling again. "Yes. Had a good talk? With your dad?"

"Absolutely."

God, he was so... Boringly pleasant.

She had known Thomas Farringdon since she was ten, and had been as unimpressed by him when their parents had made them play together.

Lara wanted to spat on the polished floor. Of course, even then, her father had wanted her to marry the boy one day!

Her father's words echoed in her mind.

"You would be a fool to turn down an earl, Lara! Don't be a child!"

She was in her twenties! She had experienced things her father had no idea of!

She turned to glare at the man next to her. Or him.

He reminded her of a dog. And not even one of those sleek racing greyhounds, or feisty hunting dogs that would disappear into the undergrowth, running after a fox. If he was like that at least Lara could have respected him.

No, the blonde young man was like a Labrador, kind and friendly and loyal.

And so very very boring.

He offered his arm to her. "Shall we go?"

"Yes," Lara told him.

Instead of taking his arm she started to walk towards the main hall where most of the quests were.

Thomas walked after her. "Um, so. About the wedding..."

"Wedding?"

"I thought you talked about that with your father? I mean, my parents think, my mother told me to ask you when you-"

When Lara had gone to talk with her father it had been with the intention of telling him she was breaking off the engagement. But she hesitated now to tell it to him.

"I'll see-"

He was still following her. She looked around the room full of quests, trying to think of an excuse.

She felt like she was suffocating at the sight of aristocrats talking to each other, exchanging superficial greetings.

Her eye caught something.

An old man who looked completely out of place, standing up the stairs, apart from rest of the people.

He was not, apart from his battered old fedora, dressed untidily as such. But the quality of the tailoring on his old-fashioned suit and bow-tie set him apart from the other quests who would not have been seen dead in anything but the latest haute couture.

Lara started walking towards him. He seemed to be examining the stained glass window.

"I see someone I know," Lara lied.

The earl looked up. "Oh?"

"Be a dear and go get yourself some refreshments. I am going to catch up with him."

"Who?" He looked at the old man. "Doctor Jones?"

The name was familiar somehow.

"Yes." Lara turned to look at him. "So?"

Finally the earl took the hint and walked off.

Figuring out she might as well talk to the weird old guy, Lara stepped to the man.

Doctor Jones turned to look at her, and Lara noticed he had an eye-patch covering his right eye. He glanced at the earl. "Was that boy giving you trouble?"

So, nothing wrong with his hearing, at least.

"That boy is my fiance," Lara informed him. "Also yes."

"Long story I take it."

He turned to point at the window. "Wonderful work. 13thcentury, I believe. It might be even be older. Unfortunately it's hard to track that down, I believe it was moved to this mansion from a French church some time in the 19th century."

"Are you here for the windows?"

"Yes, actually. I heard this mansion was very interesting architecturally, so I managed to get an invitation. I did a favor to the count some decades ago."

Lara gave him a look. He looked old, at the very least in his 70's.

And the name was familiar...

Then it clicked. "Doctor- You are Indiana Jones!"

Indiana gave her a look and tipped his fedora. "The one and only."

"You wrote the adventures of Henry the Cat!"

Indiana gave her a surprised look before a pleased smile spread on his face. "Yes, I did indeed."

Lara blushed. "I mean, I read them when I was- very little. I did read your traveling books later, of course, and some of your historical novels."

"I hope you enjoyed them. Henry the Cat especially."

"I did."

"I did write them for kids. I wanted to write something children could read, or their parents could read to them, and it would teach them about history and different cultures in a child-friendly way. And maybe get them interested in actual archaeology and history and languages when they got older."

"It definitely worked with me."

She had treasured the books depicting the adventures of a smart little cat with a suddenly-familiar looking fedora. He had gone on adventures and traveled to different countries and learned new languages and discovered treasures in mysterious ruins. At the time Lara had not fully appreciated the way the author had woven real facts and lessons into the books, but they had first gotten Lara fascinated with mysteries and ancient civilizations, and when she had discovered the author had written books for older kids and even adults, she had been delighted.

Indiana smiled. "That's the best feedback you could give me."

Lara nodded. "Of course, just sitting behind the desk, writing, that's easy."

She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice.

She shifted her weight slightly. Her side was still bandaged, and there was pain when she moved her body in certain ways. She couldn't have worn her favorite dress because of it, and had gone for something far more baggy than usual.

Indiana gave her a curious look. "It's a big world out there. I know you probably feel like an adult but trust me, I did think I had seen everything too when I was your age."

"Really? Had you? Had you watched your friends die in front of you?"

"Dear child..."

There was something more in Indiana's look now. Suddenly his gaze seemed sharper as if Lara was just some interesting historical artifact for him to examine.

He took Lara's hand and examined her fingers. "Frost bite."

"Yes."

"It should heal fully... You were lucky."

"Lucky, huh?"

"You are alive."

"And for what?" Lara turned to look at the party. "For this? For a marriage with some... Man who has never set foot outside England except to go on a beach holiday."

"You are still young."

Lara turned to look at him. He had to understand.

So she told him everything.

How she had been returning from a skiing trip with her friends. How the plane had crashed on the Himalayas. How she had been the only survivor, and fought to stay alive.

When she had set eyes on the small mountain village she had felt like she was saved.

But now that she was back home, she would have rather died.

"Or not died," she corrected. "Disappeared into the mountains. I was... I felt alive."

Indiana, who had been listening without a word, nodded. "But you lived to fight an another day. There is nothing stopping you from going back into the nature, to the unknown."

"There is."

Lara took a deep breath. "My father. Lord Henshingley Croft. I told him I couldn't... Even if I stayed, I can't live the life he wants me to."

It was easy to tell Indiana all this. Perhaps it was because Lara was convinced they would never meet again after this. She could finally put to words what she felt. What it was that felt so especially suffocating.

"I can't marry the man he wants me to. I don't think. I can't see myself marrying anyone. Definitely not someone picked up for me like we were two pedigree horses to be bred."

"And your father is... Old-fashioned like that?"

"I told him I was going to break off the engagement, and he told me I was free to do so. But that he would cut me off financially."

He would do it, Lara was certain of it. No more skiing trips to Switzerland, or holidays in exotic places. He would do his best to clip her wings.

"Ah. I know a thing or two about unsupportive fathers."

"What did you do?"

"I left home. Joined the Belgian army."

"To fight the Nazis?"

Indiana patted her shoulder. "First world war."

"You're old!"

"And I have seen a lot. Known many people. Believe me, you have it better than many people do. If you make preparations, and have at least some family members who will support you, you can do it. You can walk away."

"Maybe I will," Lara told him. "But I could marry the earl. Old Tom is very dull, but kind. I could wrap him around my little finger. Would it really matter I don't love him? Most of the marriages here are not based on love as much as being able to tolerate each other."

"That's not true. Well, not all of them. But want a piece of advice from an old man?"

"Why do I get the feeling you are going to give it to me whether I wanted it or not?"

"Fair. But indulge me. At my age it is sometimes fun to play the wise all-knowing sage." Indiana raised a finger. "Be yourself; everyone else is already taken."

"I think I have seen that on a greeting card," Lara mumbled.

She turned towards Indiana. "Anyway, once I'm back home, I will find my old Henry the Cat books and send them for you to sign.

Indiana tipped her hat. "It would be a pleasure."

Lara felt better now. There was clarity. She had clawed her way through both a Girls boarding school, and icy wilderness. She could find a way to support herself.

Be herself.

Be free.

#indiana jones #fic #lara croft #thanks fore my friend lena for help with this #(she's the lara croft expert)#tomb raider #classic tomb raider

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pucker-sauce · 5 years

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Jitty || The Finale

WHO: Jackie Puckerman & Kitty Wilde

WHERE: Kitty Wilde’s Apartment Hallway

WHEN: Saturday, February 23rd

WHAT: The stuff exchange. Jackie and Kitty exchange some of the collection of things they’d left at each others places over the course of their 8 month relationship (I’ve been this rp long enough for chars to have had an 8 month relationship :O). They have words and pain is also exchanged.

Jackie

It had been 11 days since Jackie’d been dumped, but who’s counting? It took her 3 days to realize having Kitty’s stuff randomly pop up would just be another source of hurt, but it also took her another 7 to realize staring at a box marked ‘Her Shit’ wasn’t helpful either. In the same instance that realization came to her mind, Jackie picked up her phone and sent the text. The whole exchange sort of felt to her like their relationship did, a lot of the time, Jackie giving a section of her feelings and Kitty returning very little. Fuck, why did it hurt when it’s clear the blonde hadn’t ever really wanted to be with her? How could she have not seen it the whole time?

The painful text exchange was followed by some gossip crap, more tearing Jackie down of course, because even when she wasn’t doing anything wrong she was still the one to get shat on right? Fuck that day and everyone enjoying it to be honest. Luckily Jackie had dinner with Kate, who’d also experienced a bit of unfair prodding, and two large bottles of wine to share, … well Jackie drank a bottle and a half, her day had obviously been slightly more difficult… right? At the end of the night Jackie made sure Kate got in safe and headed for a bar. And okay when she invited herself to Reggie’s later that night it wasn’t a complete lie when she said she’d walked around the city. She totally walked across the street to get to the bar from her Uber, and she was in fact in NYC, so not a lie.

That morning she woke up in Reggie’s apartment with a bitch of a headache and had to call into work. Chose to, she chose to call in and have someone cover her class. She woke up again an hour later with the realization of an impending exchange causing her head to throb even more. “Fuck!” She looked at her phone a message from Kitty confirming their meetup, then at Reggie her sleep snuggle hostage, before quietly sliding out of bed and tiptoeing out of the apartment. Jackie quickly, as quickly as a very hungover person could, went home brushed her teeth, washed her face, grabbed the box and was out… after another quick nap. When she finally made it to Kitty’s apartment it was 15 past 1. Maybe being late was a good thing. Kitty probably made plans after and would need to hurry this along, a quick handoff. Jackie knocked softly, adjusted the box in her arms, then the giant sunglasses on her face and just waited quietly.

Kitty

Breakups were weird. True, Kitty didn’t have a ton of experience with them, this being her first real relationship and all, but she’d had her fair share of endings in her 23 years and she could say from experience they were always weird. They sucked. Even when it felt like it was for the best. Which this one was, she was sure. When they’d started this thing up again for real they’d been good for each other, they’d been happy, and secure, and solid but things had changed like they always did. Kitty could list all the instances that had put doubts in her mind -- the lack of trust, the possessive streak -- but if Kitty were being honest (and wasn’t it time for her to be honest if with no one but herself?) she’d been phoning it in for the last few months. And Marley was right, she deserved better than that. They both did. None of that made her decision any easier, mind you, but it had made it necessary.

Now she could breathe again.

Sort of. There was still the nagging guilt that came with hurting someone you still love -- because nobody ever told you that falling out of love doesn’t mean you stop caring. And she did still care! It was why she played the part of the heartless asshole to make things easier for Jackie and why she’d packed up all of Jackie’s things and put them in the front closet before Lara came over for Jeopardy and Chill the night before. It was also why she was wearing sweats and no make-up when she answered the door at 1:15 Saturday afternoon. She wasn't trying to win this breakup she was just trying to live her life so why not give Jackie the satisfaction of seeing her at her worst, right? She kept her expression neutral as she opened the door, not wanting to give much of her inner turmoil away. “Hey…”

Jackie

As soon as the door opened Jackie realized she’d been holding her breath. “Hey...” It seemed like no time had passed since she’d seen Kitty last, yet simultaneously it seemed like it had been forever. She wouldn’t look at her for too long, she couldn’t. She wanted to scream, ‘you were never in this why did we even do this’ , but she didn’t. Instead she took a deep breath. “So yeah, got my stuff KitKa- ... Kitty?” This was it, this was the actual end. Another on the growing list of ends. “I packed up everything I could find around my place so we should be good after this.” She held out the box. ‘Take it and go, please’, that’s all she could think. Jackie didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to be where Kitty was, interacting with her. Because Kitty hurt her, but the blonde was fine, outside of the pity for poor poor downgrade Jackie. How was that fair? Mary Katherine was in her face proof of what she’d known her entire life about herself. “We’re good, right?”

Kitty

Yep. Breakups officially sucked. And seeing Jackie, like actually seeing her, made it worse. The guilt, the pit in her stomach, the reality of their new normal -- all of it, so much worse. She realized then why she’d made the coward move and ended things over a text, because seeing her like this hurt. It was so much easier to be fine from a distance. Shit. She really hadn’t thought this all through. She should have asked Nicola or Lola to do the drop off instead. It probably would have been easier for everyone, but there was part of her that knew she owed Jackie at least this much.

So, she took the box, trying not to think too hard about what Jackie constituted as ‘hers’ after eight months of their lives together. Christ. She was not looking forward to going through it later. “Thanks,” she said, her voice quiet and subdued as she placed the box on the ground beside her. Wincing, Kitty turned to the hall closet to grab the box she’d placed Jackie’s things in. She was Kitty now. Not KitKat. Probably the only person in New York City Jackie didn’t have a cute nickname for anymore and that stung too, but she deserved it. “Here,” she said, waiting for Jackie to take the box she held awkwardly with one arm. “Yeah, I think that’s everything.” It was all so uncomfortable. Robotic almost. She wished she’d booked some trivia time with Lara for that evening, because she knew she’d certainly need a distraction after.

Kitty scratched the back of her neck with her free hand, a nervous habit, when she realized she’d forgotten something. Fuck. Her hand moved to her chest where the necklace Jackie had given her -- the one she’d worn every day since Jackie had given it to her, the one she’d taken off eleven days ago -- usually sat. “Oh, the necklace! I -- I mean, you should have it, I’m sure it cost a lot of money…”

Jackie

Kitty walked away and Jackie finally looked up longer than a moment and took a deep breath. This was fine, short and sweet, and she’d be out. But then Jackie saw the box, she didn’t want a box. She wanted two things. She Should have specified that everything else could have been burned. She didn’t want clothes that might smell like Kitty, she didn’t want any reminders really, it’s just that was her favorite God Damn blanket, and it took her forever to find that signed book of poetry she wasn’t losing them too over the other woman’s decision. An entire box though, was a big ‘I may have wasted nearly a /YEAR/ of my life loving someone who didn’t love me back.’ stamp. Fuck if she’d ever do this again.

The ache that shot through her when she took the box from Kitty’s hands almost took her out, it was something so emotionally painful it manifested itself into something physical. But then… it seemed to Jackie as if Kitty went, ‘You think that’s painful, Bitch, hold my beer.’ That necklace. It was a gift that Jackie was at the time proud to give. Something she knew the other woman would love and always have… always. What did that even mean? It didn’t even cross her mind that she would want to give it back.

“Really? Did I ask for the necklace? I asked for two damn things. It’s your necklace. I don’t want that shit… Fuck, do you hate me or something? What did I do to you? I mean you were tired of the charade of being with me, got it, but I really never meant anything to you did I? Just some placeholder.” Jackie took a step back and dropped the box at her own feet. “I fucking loved you. And you played me and now you’re just rubbing the shit in right?” Jackie just stared at the blonde, fuming and broken. Tears began to fall as she bent down and opened the box, rummaging through she found the book and then grabbed the blanket. “How about you do this, be that good ol’ Christian you’re so proud of being, pawn it and donate the money.” She didn’t need this shit. Jackie didn’t want to cry in front of her. She wasn’t some piece of shit to be pitied and that’s what was going to happen or Kitty would laugh about it with whoever she found her ‘happy’ with.

Kitty

She knew she’d made a mistake the second the words left her mouth, but it was too late. Another reminder of why these things were easier when done via text message -- it allowed a person the time to edit that face to face interactions were severely lacking. It was funny, in the kind of way that wasn’t funny at-fucking-all because hadn’t she just answered an ask that morning about being a good person? And in that moment she was sure she’d been right, she might look good on the outside but inside… she was all bad. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t, that was the problem. Kitty had wanted to make things easier for Jackie but the reality was she’d done it to ease her own guilt. She had always known she was selfish, but this felt like a new low.

“I didn’t -- It’s not like that! I just thought --” What? That Jackie might want to see it for a few bucks? That she’d want it back to hurt her? Or had she just wanted to get rid of it to make herself feel better? So she wouldn’t have to hurt every time she looked at it? She deserved this, she knew it.

She deserved to hurt. But fuck, did Jackie really think so lowly of her? Five year’s they’d been going at this -- off and on and off again -- Jackie knew her better than most other people, did she really think she didn’t care at all?“Stop! Just -- stop saying that! Of course you meant something to me Jay.” A beat, her own tears forming in her eyes. “I loved you too. You were the first woman I ever loved. I --” There was a moment where she considered shutting down again, Jackie for sure didn’t want to hear it anyway, she’d already made up her mind, but there was something inside of her that said fuck it. “I wanted this to work. I really thought… if I could it work with anybody it would be you, so…” She shrugged a shoulder, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Who knows, maybe this was my one shot at happy and I fucked it up. Whatever, that’s on me, but don’t say that. I might have been shit at it, but I did love you.”

Jackie

Kitty began to speak and Jackie just rolled her eyes, sure more pity for her would come. She just wanted this done and over. This was too hard and it hurt too bad and she really needed a drink. Jackie listened, though she just wanted to walk away. She was compelled by the sound of Kitty’s voice, but she was definitely preparing to yell. Jackie pursed her lips, gaze finally once again landing on the blonde; this was about to be some bullshit. But then… tears. Fuck everything. She couldn’t handle Kitty’s tears. And the words kept coming: meant, loved, wanted, all passed tense, all hitting Jackie like a dagger, but still those tears.

Jackie hugged the book and blanket tightly to her body in one arm as she stepped closer. Her steps tentative and her breaths even, as she temporarily pushed the anger aside, because those tears killed her more than she could ever admit. She raised her free hand and gently wiped away a stray tear from Kitty’s cheek. With a hushed and calm voice Jackie spoke. “I love you, KitKat. I don’t know what’s up or down right now, because you broke me, but I love you and that won’t ever change, that I know for sure. I knew you’d leave. I’m pretty sure I told you you’d leave, and you told me to stop thinking like that...” She stepped away from the other averting her eyes. “I guess I should of kept thinking that instead of letting myself fall even more. You’re gonna be alright, Mary Katherine. You’re very lovable.” Tears began to fall from Jackie’s already swollen eyes. Of course Kitty was going to be fine. She was going to move on but Jackie on the other hand… “I love you, but I really don’t know what to believe from you anymore. I don’t trust you. You broke up with me because you Loved me, but don’t anymore? You wanted it to work but don’t anymore? I meant something to you ... and I don’t anymore? That shit didn’t happen last week, Kitty! You fucking lied to me for God knows how long. You were just there watching me love you while you just wanted out. Instead of coming to me when you started to question things, so maybe we could have worked this shit out, you said nothing until it got this bad…” Jackie sniffled and shook her head angrily. “I fucking love you forever but right now I don’t like you at all…” She suddenly got figedy. She needed out of there.(edited)

Kitty

Kitty didn’t deserve compassion, not from Jackie anyway, she got that. In fact, she’d fully expected her ex to walk away before she’d even had a chance to defend herself and Kitty wouldn’t have blamed her. Were she in Jackie’s shoes, she’d definitely had done worse. A lot worse.

Not Jackie though. Jackie stayed all the way through her speech and wiped her tears, and still loved her even though she didn’t like her and somehow that was all so much worse. That was why she’d pushed her out, wasn’t it? Not to protect her herself but to push Jackie’s buttons. Kitty wanted Jackie to hate her -- to be petty and cruel or throw her under the bus, because that would make the whole break up thing so much easier on her. How fucked up was that? Wanting Jackie to stoop to her level so she had an out that made sense. What kind of person walked away from somebody that loved her?

Kitty didn’t wipe Jackie’s tears or give her shoulder a comforting squeeze instead, keeping her hands clutched in front of her. “I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know until I --” ended things, she didn’t think that needed saying. “I know that probably doesn’t make you feel any better, but it’s the truth. I think -- I don’t know -- maybe there’s too much history between us, you know? Too many old hurts we never dealt with. But I…” The next part felt harder almost, it was so fucking cliche, but maybe it was one for a reason. “I want us to be friends. Like eventually, obviously. When you… like me again or whatever.”

Jackie

Jackie honestly didn’t believe Kitty. She didn’t trust her at all. That hurt in its own way. It was all pandering that she didn’t want or need. What she did want was an exit. A quick one. “Oh, so you didn’t know you didn’t love me anymore, got it.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. This was really pointless wasn’t it. This conversation? Why were they even doing this. They were clearly in different places emotionally and they needed to be in different places physically. Why was Kitty so lucky to be the one to fall out of love? What was it Jackie did exactly? It was clearly what she did to make everyone leave, not just Kitty… everyone. “Friends?” She didn’t even know what just friends looked like with Kitty, they’d never been that before. But in that moment it hurt too much to try to figure out. “Yeah … sure.” Jackie was done crying for the day, she hoped. She looked down at the box on the hallway floor, clutching the two items she requested in her arms, then up at the blonde. This was done, they were done, and there was no coming back from this. The finality of it brought more tears to her eyes. “Good Luck, Kitty. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for.” And with that Jacqueline said what she felt was a final farewell.

#para:kittyw #all:kittyw #//the pain of it all #para:The Finale

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acupofmatt-blog1 · 5 years

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I Don't Wanna Love You Anymore → MARA :(

Tagging→ @acupofmatt @acuplara

Location→ Lara and Evie’s apartment

Date→ February 16, 2019

Summary→ Lara comes back into Matt’s life with a simple text. Old Matt might’ve replied, but Matt’s different now, so she goes to Lara and Evie’s apartment to confront Matt. Turns out, Lara’s a little different now, too.

NOTE: This is painful as fuck

LARA

i just wanna let you know im back in the city and im sorry for the shits i did to you before ok? i know we aint gonna be chill rn but thats ok i can handle it. i just want you to know im sorry and everything. i hope youre good n shit Shrugging her shoulders, Lara hit 'send' on her phone before tossing it onto her bed. She knew that her being back in the city after months was going to cause some waves with a few people, but she did not have it in her to care. Her fingers gripped the zipper of her suitcase, unzipping it before she began the journey of unpacking her clothes. Her time away with family that she hadn't really met before had been humbling. She was under the watchful eye of her father for most of the time, which meant she was hardly under cause to misbehave like she normally would have outside of the US borderlines. Now that she was back? That was a different story. However, she wasn't an idiot. She knew that her biggest problem was going to be with Matt, and for good reason. Whenever Lara had left, she knew that she had ended things horribly with the girl. She was scared and quite frankly, her sudden departure to Singapore with her father was something that sat wrong with her for a while. It was wrong. It was mean. It wasn't her. As time passed though, Lara realized it was probably for the best. Matt deserved better than someone that was going to flake because things were growing serious. Shaking her head, Lara gripped her emptied suitcase before she was exiting her room to store it in one of the hallway closets. Her roommates weren't going to be home for a while, and it was more than a good enough time to spend some quality time with the joint located in her pocket.

MATT

Matt was on cloud 9. Things were looking up for her. Reagan decided to give them a chance. They weren't official or anything, but Matt was committed to making them work. She wanted this. A new start. Whatever past mistakes she made in other relationships, Matt was not going to bring to this new, potential one. No lies, no leading on, no hot and cold, no communication, no walls--no. Matt was still the same, but emotionally? She grew the fuck up. It took her a while. A long, long while, but Matt liked where she was. After Lara left, the first few weeks, Matt didn't sleep with anyone. Because Lara was going to come back. It was a test. And Matt wasn't going to mess up this time. But then? Weeks turned to month, then months. And Matt knew she wasn't coming back. So she slept around. A lot. Way too much. Matt held it the fuck in. Until she couldn't--because Matt wasn't that girl anymore. Matt allowed herself to feel. So then she laid it on the table: Lara left her. Lara wasn't coming back. That's when Matt cried to herself for a while. Until she got over it. It helped not seeing Lara. It made it easier to forget how she felt. And then things changed. Matt met Reagan and there went Matt again--putting up walls. But she couldn't. Matt was different now. She couldn't put up walls to Reagan. Things got complicated, but now they were here. Getting somewhere. Matt could really see things looking up for her. Then her phoned chimed.

Matt expected it to be Reagan. They had been texting since Matt got home. But no. It was Lara. Matt dropped her phone when she saw the text. What the fuck. Matt's first thought was to run away. Hop a flight to Chicago and never hear from anyone ever again, but Matt wasn't a little bitch. She was going to deal with this. Once Matt read the message, Matt realized she wasn't a little bitch--she was a BIG bitch. And she was pissed. Three months. Nearly four. And this is all she gets from Lara. The months of pain, of crying herself to sleep, of waiting, of longing, of anger...and all she gets is "sorry for the shits i did to you?” “Are you fucking kidding me?” Matt asked aloud with a bitter laugh. “Fucking unbelievable.” Matt could leave it on read and move on. But no. Lara couldn’t even say what she was sorry about. Was she even sorry? Sorry that she left? Matt said it was for “understandable reasons” that Lara left but what was the reason? Matt did EVERYTHING right. Matt owned up to her mistakes and worked HARD to fix them. Lara just leaving was not an “understandable reason.” And Matt needed Lara to know that.(edited)

So Matt grabbed her phone and bag and headed to Lara and Evie’s apartment. Matt hadn’t been here in months. It felt like a distant memory. A memory she could barely remember. Matt scoffed. Fuck the sentimental bullshit, Matt was pissed. Matt immediately knocked on the door and as soon as it opened, Matt’s breath hitched when she saw it was Lara. Lara. Her firefly. Her Lara baby. The girl Matt was a little fool for. The girl Matt was in love with. The girl Matt called her fucking fresh start. The girl that left her. Twice. The girl that broke her heart. The girl that almost made her quit on love. Matt composed herself and looked straight at Lara. “Sorry for the shits I did to you? Do you fucking call that an apology? We need to fucking talk. Because I do that now. Not that you’d know anything about it.” Matt pushed past Lara and stepped inside. Matt had balls when she needed them.

LARA

As Lara lit the joint in between her fingers, she managed to walk around her apartment. She needed to get reacquainted with everything, and the best time to do that was whenever Evie wasn't home. Truth be told, she had been home for almost 24 hours, and most of that 24 hours had been spent with all the talks and conversations and catching up's between her and her best friend. She was out of the apartment now, so Lara was having some alone time. She puffed on her joint as she made her way into the kitchen, living room, and landed back in her bedroom. God, it was almost pathetic the amount of memories that were located in such a room. So many fights and make ups and happy memories lay within the four walls and honestly, it was suffocating. She felt bad for the way she had left things with so many people, and quite frankly, she was happy to be back. She was better. She was braver. She was... apparently expecting company. At the sound of the knocking on her door, Lara put her joint out, leaving it laying haphazardly in the ashtray on her desk. She would revisit that little buddy later on. "Coming," Lara shouted, unsure of what was going to meet her. Either Evie had forgotten her key, there was some strange surprise Postmates driver for her, or someone had gotten word of her being back. Or... "Um..." Lara mumbled as she opened the door, immediately hit with the fiery words of the one and only, Matt Solis. She hadn't expected her to show up at her door. Maybe she wasn't as brave as she thought she had become.

"I admit the delivery could have been better," Lara started as she sighed out her words, pushing the door to a close before resting her forehead against the material as she waited. She hadn't prepared for this, and quite frankly, the slight buzz that her smoking had caused was clouding her judgment. "I... do you want to start or should... I?" She paused momentarily as she turned around, meeting the eyes of her ex... girlfriend? Things had been murky on what they were before she had left but god, they had been something beautiful. "You look.... pissed, look I'm sorry, Matt. I don't know what else you want me to say here." Her words flowed quickly out of her lips as she stared at the girl before her, knowing that she was the one in the wrong here.

MATT

God, Matt both wanted Lara to shut the fuck up because the shit coming out of her mouth was aggravating her, but she also wanted her to say MORE than whatever bullshit she came up out with. "I am pissed. I'm pissed about a lot of things, actually. You know, I thought seeing you again I'd be this big, stupid ass fool running to your arms again, but ha, you got me fucked up. I'm angry. I'm upset. You..." Matt shook her head. "I don't want your apology, Lara." Matt looked at Lara. "I want you to say to my face exactly what you did. Say that you left. Say that you fucking walked away. Say that you're a fucking hypocrite. Say you're just as bad as I was for just. saying. words." Matt felt her eyes well up because God this was a lot happening right now. "And fucking say you're a coward. A big fucking coward who couldn't even talk to me, but fuck yeah...you could fuck me, right? You fucking ate your words, Lara. I was just another body to you, in the end." Matt shook her head. "So go. Own up to your shit. Because I'm not leaving until you say something." Matt wanted to scream, if she was being honest. Matt wanted to break down in tears and just sob because why would Lara show up now? When things were getting so good for Matt? When Matt was finally becoming better? "You have a lot of fucking nerve sending me a simple text like that when you did more than that. You...let me tell you how I felt. I felt like shit. I felt abandoned. You didn't even--you couldn't even--" Matt felt her lower lip tremble and Matt forced herself to hold it together. "I felt like it was my fault and that I did something to mess it up since most of the time, it was always blamed on me. That I wasn't ready. That I was the one that put up walls. That I was the asshole who couldn't give such an amazing girl a chance....so tell me."

LARA

The more that Matt spoke, the more that Lara felt her defenses crumbling. She knew that she was the one in the wrong between the two of them, but knowing and admitting were two very different things. However, Matt was right. Matt was right about every single thing that she was saying, and Lara knew that. "Matt," Lara started before she was raising her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. She really wished that she hadn't smoked before Matt had showed up at her apartment. Things were far too hazy for her to genuinely discuss and paint a picture of how she was feeling about things. "Can I just... can you just give me... a second? One fucking second." Her voice was short and curt, knowing that she was more aggravated with herself than absolutely anything that Matt was saying. "I left. I walked away. I'm a fucking hypocrite. I'm a coward. I'm everything, okay? I saw a way out whenever it came to going to my cousins wedding with my dad and I went with it. Leaving was easier than dealing with... I don't know, trying? Trying to make things work whenever I was going to be a world away. I don't..." Lara paused for a second as she swallowed hard, looking down at her hands as she began fiddling with her fingers. "I don't know what the fuck I was thinking whenever I left, but I just know that I am sorry for how I left things. You don't have to believe me for even a fucking second, but I just need you to know I am sorry. And I-I..." Another pause. Lara brought her hands up, running her fingers through her hair as she looked anywhere but at Matt. It was easier to ignore the rising feeling of panic if she wasn't looking at the girls tear filling eyes.

"I never want you feeling like shit or abandoned or... or any of that shit. I never wanted that but I just... I don't know. It's not your fault. Nothing about this is your fault because you were... you were perfect. You were doing everything possible to make me feel safe and secure and I ruined it. And I know I did that. And I'm sorry for that. I don't know... what happened in my head to think that it was fine leaving, but I did. And now we're here and I just..." Lara paused once more as she wet her lips, throwing her arms out at her sides before shrugging her shoulders. "I'm not asking for anything. I just... thought you should know directly from me that I was back. I didn't want you hearing from anyone else or seeing me out or... or I don't know. I'm sorry I sent just a text."

MATT

Matt closed her eyes as Lara spoke because she was trying not to glare at Lara. Granted, Matt wasn't being very chill at the moment--Matt was still working on the whole execution of talking about feelings. But she was trying--more than she could say about Lara who gave her yet another bullshit answer. Matt took a deep breath as she looked at Lara. "I felt it. And for a long time, I acted like I deserved it for the shit I put you through but I don't--I didn't. You know what I deserved? I deserved for you to talk to me. I deserved you to fucking tell me you couldn't do this. I deserved you to not be a fucking coward who runs away. That's what I deserved Lara." Matt took a good look at Lara. It was the same girl physically. Same Lara. But everything else? It felt like looking at a different person. Matt didn't know who this was. Her Lara? No. Not that Lara. It felt odd. It felt like talking to a stranger. And what a tragedy that was--to have so much history with a person and for it to go back to being strangers. "Don't call me that. Perfect. I'm not. I'm working on being better. I'm not perfect, but I was so ready to try to be better. For you. For me. For us. I had so many hopes and you broke them. You tore them up. I was ready to give up on love completely because I thought nothing could compare to you. Ever. You were it to me, is that what made you run away? Did it fucking scare you that someone wanted you so badly?" Matt felt tears running down her face. "Did it terrify you that someone changed for you? That someone loved you so fucking much that they were willing to do anything to have you. I was a god damn fool for you Lara, and you stepped all over it." Matt paused. Lara just ran away. Things got scary and she ran. Much like Matt back then. But it was more than that.

When Matt slept with Scout, Matt was compared to Lara's mom. That Matt was no better for leaving. And then when Matt physically left to Chicago after telling Lara she loved her, Matt was once again no fucking better than Lara's mom. Made her feel that same abandonment. Well, this time, Matt felt a lot like Lara did back then. And Lara? Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. And the realization hit Matt like a pile of bricks. "Jesus..." Matt trailed off as she put her hands on her face and sniffled. "Lara..." Matt sighed. "You...you're..." Matt sighed again. Matt couldn't say it. How could she? It was a lot. It was heavy. It was the truth. And Matt didn't say just words anymore. And Lara had to hear this. Because this is how Matt felt. And Matt was still so god damn angry. “You’re still not admitting to anything. You’re just saying my words back to me. But when are you going to fucking admit that you’re exactly like your fucking mom?” Matt spit out. “You’re just like her. You leave…every time it gets hard. And you gave me so much shit for it when I did it. But you? You do the same thing! The moment things are great for us—that fucking…that terrifies you. So you leave. But you don’t fucking let me GO.” Matt let out a shaky breath. “You cling onto me, still, and then you come back and pull me back in and I fell for it every. damn. time. I’m done. I’m not going to be used anymore. I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not that fucking Matt. I’m not your fucking princesa anymore. Because this time around I’m trying to look out for myself and by doing that, believe it or not, I’m looking out for you. So can you at least fucking admit that, Lara? Can you at least admit you’re a flake who can’t stay for me, but you’ll still hold on for dear life? That you leave and make me sit around and wait for you to do it all over again. I’m your fucking drug Lara…you only come to get your fix and then you leave…I’m not doing that anymore.”

LARA

With every passing word, Lara felt herself shrinking in size. Not physically, but mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually. She knew that everything Matt was saying was right. She had changed everything about how she was with relationships to be good enough for Lara and Lara ruined them. She sighed heavily as things progressed, knowing that she was the epitome of a fuck up. She had left Matt with no word and was now going to have to face the consequences. She knew this and there was no arguing that. However, whenever the conversation flipped into something more, something heavier? Lara's eyes immediately switched to Matt. Her eyes bored onto the girl's face as her eyebrow raised at Matt's words. When are you going to fucking admit that you're exactly like your fucking mom?

The words felt like ice being thrown on her body. She felt like she was going to be physically ill with the way her body was heating up with anger. "Get out." Lara said, her voice soft as she closed her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. "Get the fuck out, Matt. Get. Out." Regardless of the truth that could be lying with the girls words, there was far too much residual pain from her mother leaving her and her father for Lara to begin to sort through. Much less, hearing the words coming from someone like Matt. She knew that she had said a thing or two about Matt being just like her mother whenever she had left before, but it was a different form of malice in her mind for Matt to be throwing her words back at her. Throwing her life experiences back at her. "Get the fuck out of my apartment, Matt. I'm not fucking kidding. Get out. And fuck off." She felt tears stinging her eyes as the words circled around her head, mudding the way that her thought processes were working. Her mother had left because there was something better for her lying in the form of another man other than her own husband, not because she was scared. It was something that, if in a different mindset, Lara would have been able to clarify about, but instead, she was resulting in anger. Shutting down. Despair. Regardless of what it was, Lara felt like she was about to break down in the fiercest of ways and the last person she wanted around for the show was Matt fucking Solis.

MATT

This always happened. Matt opened up about something--something honest and real--and Lara kicked her out. The last time? When Matt told Lara she slept with Scout and leading Lara on to something neither understood yet. This time? Because Matt told Lara something Lara needed to hear. Just how Matt needed to hear Lara tell her months ago the pain she felt for what Matt did with Scout. For taking Scout back. For leading her on. For saying just words. For never letting Lara in. For always being emotionally unavailable. Matt listened--it hurt like a bitch, but Matt still listened. But Lara? When she heard something too true? She resorted to either running or pushing you away. Matt chuckled dryly. "That's familiar. I've heard that before. This is you pushing me away but the moment you start to miss me and need that fix? You expect me to come crawling back." And a part of Matt hated that this was true.

"I don't expect you to admit that truth to yourself. I'll leave, Lara. I'll fucking go. But don't expect me to be that idiot that crawls right back to you. The moment I step out of this fucking door, I'm gone. I'm no longer...I'm not yours anymore. Because you can't even give me closure--or maybe this is fucking closure. Seeing you for who you really are." Matt voice cracked as she felt tears coming down her cheeks. "So if you tell me to leave again...I'm gone. You don't get to have me anymore. I just want you to know that." Matt shook her head. "It kills me to say that. It does." If Matt was going to leave, Lara had to know. About Reagan. And why walking away from this. Their history. Their tragically beautiful story...it was a little easier than she thought it would be. But maybe it was also because she saw Lara clearly this time...and she felt like a fucking idiot. And she didn't want to feel that way anymore. "I found someone, Lara. So don't think I'm coming back to you. You fucked up. And I deserve to be happy and if you won't even give me this...closure? Fine. But at least you can see yourself for what you are." Matt walked towards the door slowly, waiting to see if Lara would stop her.

LARA

Lara tipped her head back as she heard Matt beginning to speak again, wanting more than anything for her to stop. Everything to stop. She needed a breather or twenty so that she could deal with everything that was getting thrown at her. She needed things to take a moment. Take a seat. Take a break so that she could catch up to everything that was happening. Matt was being so brutally and painfully honest with her, and all Lara could do was freeze up and ignore everything that she knew was most likely right in the end. She swallowed hard as Matt was turning to leave before she was shaking her head. "I never expected you to be here waiting. I'm a fucking idiot and a bitch and an awful person, but I never expected little Mattie Solis to be waiting here for me. I have more fucking respect for you than to believe that." Lara delivered with a cold voice as she exhaled shakily. She needed to try and find some sort of calmness from within her. Matt was being real with her. Honest. She couldn't fault her for such a thing. "I want you... to be happy more than anything and I just... I'm not going to get in between that, okay? I'm not. But you do not have the...." Lara felt her body tensing up again at the simple thought of her mother before she was exhaling shakily and shaking her head. "Just... go. This is your closure. Whatever you're wanting this is..." Lara paused for a moment as she felt the tears welling in her eyes falling down her cheeks. She felt panicked. She felt anxious. She felt like a goddamn mess, but that was okay. She was allowed to feel that. "I hurt you and I know I did. I'm not... I don't... Expect anything but I can't... Just... please? Please go. I..." She shook her head before shrugging her shoulders once more and laughing pathetically. "Go be happy with your someone new and good and... better than me. Just go."

MATT

More than anything, Matt wanted to wrap her arms around Lara and kiss her and tell her she loved her, still, and apologize for being too mean and that it wasn't true. None of it. And that they could just be happy. But that wasn't reality. What Matt said was true. Should she have said all at once? No. That was kinda...a lot. But Lara needed to hear it. Even if Lara hated Matt for the rest of her life... Matt had to. It didn't matter, anyway. Whether Lara hated her or not, they weren't the same anymore. They were two different people. Two ghosts of their past selves clinging onto their back trying to revive what they use to be. But it was dead. They were dead. And it pained Matt so much that she started crying and nodded. "I'll go." Matt managed to say. "I don't know if I'll be happy like you say...but I'll go." Matt opened the door and paused. "I hope you'll be able to see what I was trying to do...sometime in the future. I hope you're able to see it." Matt said before walking away and closing the door, making it to the end of the hallway before leaning over to let out the sob she had been holding back the entire time. Because Matt knew. She lost Lara completely.

LARA

As Matt walked out the door with her final words, Lara was following her. She said not a word as a reply, but the moment Matt was pulling the door shut behind her, Lara was pushing it shut with a loud bang. She felt panicked. She felt like she was about to pass out from the anger that was riddling her body. She felt like she was about to drop to the floor with the guilt and regret that was washing over her. A part of her knew that Matt was right. The going was getting good, but it was way too good. So she walked away without a second glance. She knew that there was a part of that that was right, but she didn't care. She couldn't focus on that right now. "Welcome fuckin' back, Lara. You piece of shit," she spoke aloud to herself as she shook her head, allowing her foot to collide with the door in front of her in a last ditch attempt to be angry with Matt. She knew Matt was right, but there wasn't a chance in hell that she was going to work herself through that right now.

#ac: lara #para #para: 19 #mara #// ugh this hurts #// enjoy the meal DRAMA NERDS AS KAI PUT IT

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demes-tumbled-sims · 5 years

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Avyan Immortal Dynasty, Chapter 2: Fisherman, Ahoy!

Introduction

< Previous

“Morning, Lara. Had fun?”

“Oh. You’re Johnny’s roommate.” She gives me a long up and down. I give her a grin; it’s never too early to start making friends, right? Sure, keeping them up is a bit of work, and you’re playing risky business, because people are chumps re: clinging to this mortal coil, but you need to chase what you can. Opportunity only knocks once unless you grab its hand and make it. And when you do that, they become more opportunities. And at the end of the day, everyone (well, everyone you gotta watch out for) wins. She does not catch my thoughts. “Is this going to be a problem?”

Oh, my sides.

“No, no, of course not. I’m not that kind of roommate. You do what you like about Zest. I’d offer coffee, but we’re on the cheap. Come back in...Oh, I dunno, maybe two days.” Today’s my day off, and I’m not at a level of my aspirations where I need a dinner party. So as much as I’d like to say I’m going to get one tonight, it’s time to be realistic. Actually, I’d like to see whether or not there’ll be a kid, so two days is about perfect.

Once she leaves, though, it’s time for me to people-hunt, because I’m going to need more than Zest for this -- he can run around and get me plants because I made puppydog eyes at and/or threaten him all day, but there’s bound to be some things I can make easier.

And that’s when I spot him. An old man. In overalls.

Fisherman, ahoy! Not as good as one of those neighborhood gardener types, but I flag him down and dash towards him, because any free fish I can get are good fish. I practically shove the welcome wagon aside as I dash out --

“I’ll take care of these guys!” Zest cries after me. They’re a full day late, anyway.

“Hey! Can we talk? I’m Kestral.”

“Oh, sure! it’s not every day someone your age wants to talk to an old man like me. Gino’s the name. Gino Levin.”

“Cool, cool. Hey, listen, Gino -- can I call you Gino?” I have already ditched his last name entirely. “Are you happy? You look like an out-of-towner; you commute to fish?”

“I don’t mind the commute,” He says with a laugh. For an old guy, he talks pretty quickly, with some vim. He could last me a while. “It’s a bit of a challenge, gives me something to do!”

And boom goes the dynamite. A door opens a little before me. I can get him, and then I’m home free on fishing for -- I dunno, a week, maybe? How old is he?

“A challenge, huh? You can do better than a commute, though!” I start, luring him in. “You need a real purpose, before it’s too late!”

“Yeah! You’re right!” He got fired up pretty easily. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“I am right! You can --”

“Actually, I’ve got to go. Thanks for talking with me!”

Oh, come on! That’s not even fair!

I head back to the house, where I’ll call up that fisherman, because your girl is going to reel in this catch so she doesn’t have to worry about reeling in a catch! Meanwhile, true to his promise, Zest has been taking care of the welcome wagon.

really taking care of one of them, anyway.

“Hey! You’re a pretty girl -- you shouldn’t doubt yourself!” He’s explaining as I try and sort out the mob around me.

“Johnny, you flatter me,” Maaike says, in the tone that suggests that flattery, while somewhat misplaced, is not going to be disregarded. If you like having your ego boosted, just say so -- it’s what I do. To myself.

“Yeah, but I’m being serious! I know you can’t tell, but really!” He really does sound earnest, taking her hand and energetically sweeping her up to her feet. “Now, this is where, if I had a prop comedy thing, I’d tell you beauty is in the eye of the b-holder, but I’d have a B tucked away somewhere and give it to you. It’d be great.“

“But you don’t,” she says.

“But I don’t. It B-left me, so you’ll just have to B-lieve me.” When he says that, she gives one of those bursts of laughter that comes after a long pause, in which a rational person’s brain adjusts to the ridiculousness of things Zest is willing to say with nothing but a bright and earnest smile. “You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re awesome!”

“I think,” says Maaike, “That I’m smart enough to think you’re just trying to get with me.”

“Nah! Well. Ok. Could you blame me?” He tried to find a way to buoy her up, and snaps his fingers. “I know! I’ll prove it; be my girlfriend!”

“...Well. Very well, then. We are to date!”

It’s a very short walk to his bedroom from there. I asked him later if that was going to be a real thing -- by which I meant, a lasting thing.

“Well, it lasts as long as it lasts, but it probably won’t be the last.” He shrugged, in the future. “But I do like her, but I’m not sure if I’m ready for something super exclusive.”

he’s probably just caught in the moment. Like I hoped he would be.

Not that I am not considering Ulrike, myself. An artsy type isn’t bad.

“So, naturally, I’m expecting to knock out a couple of levels of kitchen work in my first week or so here, become a master chef and mixologist by the time I’m an adult, and just knock it all right out of the park, you know? But it’s not exactly a solo job.”

“Suuuurre.”

Pah. Whatever her skepticisms, there’s nothing a good cloudgazing can’t fix.

Nothing charms and relaxes like lying on the ground with someone! For some reason. But at least Ulrike enjoys describing shapes for a while.

Once the Welcome Wagon goes home, I am left with Gino, who’s looking a little down.

“Heeey, Gino. What’s up, old man?”

“...What if it is too late? I’m not spring chicken. All you young people, having love lives; having goals. The water never changes… I’m running out of time to be like that.” His shoulders sag and he smiles, full of regret.

Look, I intend a lot of things that happen. But this isn’t one of them. And I can’t abide giving up like that; I won’t accept it!

“It’s not too late; it’s never too late!”

“But didn’t you say --”

“OK, there is a too late, but you’re alive right here, right now; you have an all.” I lean in and grab his arm just a little gently. “Look. If you’re lonely, come move in with us! It won’t be a grand life or anything (sorry about that, I’ll work on it), but every fish you can catch goes into building a big house for forever! And every angelfish you catch can [i]really count[/i]! Come on; whaddya say?”

“You got yourself a fisherman!”

And so is added to the house Gino Levin (Oh, hey, I remembered after all), a Jealous, Active Bro. Odd for a fisherman, but what do I know? Like Zest, I’m not going to force him to change all his clothes. Maybe just a dapper suit. For when I have an occasion. Later, I’ll probably get… More proactive, as it were. Because I know that by the time I have kid who is old enough, fashions will have changed and everyone will have been absolutely smashed by the dumb outfit stick.

But while he has not been catching me an angelfish, I was going forth and conquering. Winning the day. Getting my first promotion, as you do.

I can spend most of my next morning skilling. What? This is skilling. I have to make drinks, and then the drinks are just sitting around, waiting to be drunk! That said, I’ll be glad when my aspiration lets me step back and practice bartending for a bit; easier to zone out and do for a long while. But while I need to, I can knock them out!

Not that I don’t, when Zest gets invited out by Maaike, mind going out and spending a while in a nice pub.

“You know, people say chickens are dinosaurs -- but aren’t you supposed to call things chicken, not the other way around?” What. Dude.

“Hm; you raise a point… Would the logical counter-chicken then be a dinosaur, or do we suppose dinosaurs cowards?”

He’s… kind of got a situation going. Of which he and his talk of dinosaurs remains completely and blissfully unaware.

But that’s his business; my business… Is with a familiar face.

“Sweet, what a coinkidink!” She waves me down when I come in, and I take a seat across the table from her.

“Aren’t you supposed to live in San Myshuno? I know they have bars there.”

“OK, while I love, love, loooove a good karaoke machine, you have to go out, experience new things, visit new places! That’s sort of my thought about all sorts of things -- about life, and about love, too!”

Oh. “So, you’re kind of a free spirit, huh?” That’s what she wants… Do I take a different tack, then? Well, it’s not like me to worry about that; if that’s what I want to do, it’d be better to sweep her off her feet so hard she can’t think.

“Yup! I wouldn’t say I’d want to be a two-timer… But I wouldn’t want to get bored, either!” She smiles blithely… But after a moment, she gives me a glance. “Out to meet more people for your quest?”

“Kinda; I’d see what happens, anyway. Wish that lady would let me behind the bar…” I mean, wouldn’t that be fun? It’d be a step up from the porch.

“That’s lame! I’d like to try your drinks sometime.” She looks at my face for a second and stands up. “Hey, wanna see if I can’t kick your butt in foosball for a while?”

“I mean, I already know the answer; but it’ll be fun to prove it to you,” I answer graciously.

“You’re so mean!” She laughs regardless. “I’ll make you eat those words!”

We just goofed around anyway; it was a fun match.

“Shame it doesn’t help much!” She commented as she spun a little guy around.

“Socializing helps, socializing helps. It’s all got to happen sometime.” I shrug.

“Well, it does help ms. go-getter not blow a gasket. You know what they say about all work and no play!” Her eyes lit up when she thought about that.

“You’ve got to hustle to make a dollar! Besides… You’re just trying to distract me so I won’t cream you.”

As for what Zest was up to… Mostly just chatting, I think? He might have played some Don’t Wake the Llama. Any hope of flirting with his girl was hard-stopped…

By his other girl, who sulked -- he didn’t even give her a kiss hello! Because of his girlfriend, who he’s sensible enough to at least not flirt with in front of his side squeeze. Ah, Zest.

“Booyah! Victory is mine! I warned you! Your girl does not lose!”

It was a good trip.

#sims 4 #the sims 4 gameplay #The sims 4 dynasty #The sims 4 story #The Sims #TS4 #Immortal Dynasty Challenge #The Avyan Immortal Dynasty #Crosspost

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mrmichaelchadler · 6 years

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Cannes 2018: Ash is the Purest White, Girls of the Sun, Girl

The crowds on the sidewalks of the rue d’Antibes, the main drag of Cannes, were treated to a rare sight this afternoon. A wedding party formed a slow impromptu parade down the narrow street, horns blowing, and the bride and groom leading in a white convertible with the top down. The newlyweds sat atop the back seat in their wedding finery. She was grinning and waving wildly to the crowds like she had just won a prize, her big bouquet held aloft in her ring hand. In a year when the role of women under discussion at the festival, it was a reminder that this town yields so many different images of women, some of them screen today.

The distinguishing mark of the films of Chinese director Jia Zhang-ke (“A Touch of Sin,” “24 City”) is his portrayal of an insatiable appetite for life in times that change, not always for the better. His new film “Ash is the Purest White,” premiering in competition at the Cannes Film Festival, presents heroine Qiao (Zhao Tao, a regular in Jia’s films), a woman who passes through the searing fire of love for a fickle man and comes out as strong and pure as steel.

The story opens in 2001, in a failing coal-mining town in northwestern China (director Jia’s hometown), where Bin (Liao Fan), nightclub owner and smalltime mobster, lords it over his men and calls the shots in the local political establishment. Clever, resourceful and attractive but not beautiful, Qiao is his girlfriend, the gang moll who has the respect of a princess by virtue of her relationship with the man in charge.

The culture of Hong Kong movies, a decade or so past its prime has seeped into this backward town. The Wong Fei-hong theme music from a string of martial arts action hits blares incongruously to a vaudeville-like nightclub act in Bin’s club, while Bin and his guys adopt the swagger and bravado of screen idols like Chow Yun-fat and Ti Lung. Jia adds the haunting Cantopop ballad by Sally Yeh, the theme song from John Woo’s “The Killer” to the soundtrack, becoming its own poignantly recurring theme in the story of Qiao.

Life is bold, tacky, and all encompassing in Jia’s vision. Time and again the drama is punctuated by crazy pop culture set pieces, like when the throngs in Bin’s packed club dizzily dance, hop and throw up their arms in unison to Y.M.C.A. by the Village People, a scene so vibrant you want to get up and dance in your seat.

On a hillside walk, Bin shows Qiao his illegal gun, and placing his hand around her reluctant one, forces off a shot. “For people like us it’s kill or be killed,” he says, explaining his imagined gangland ethos with a naiveté that will haunt both of their futures. A short time later, Bin’s cocky invulnerability comes to an end with an attack on his car by a youth gang bent on bludgeoning Bin and his driver to a bloody death on the street. Grabbing the gun, Qiao saves their lives, and Jia places her in the center of an iconic shot seen in a thousand action films, gun raised to the sky, the silent crowd drawing back in fear and awe.

“Ash Is the Purest White” jumps forward in time, when Qiao, who has taken the fall for possession of Bin’s gun, is just completing a five-year prison term. The location changes to the city of Fengjie on the Yangtze River, in the spectacular Three Gorges region, where Qiao arrives by boat in search of Bin. With its towering cliffs, broad, swiftly flowing river and fog and pollution-shrouded skies, this is prime Jia territory, the location for his 2006 film “Still Life.”

The traditional movie moral code of the gang, centered on loyalty and self-sacrifice, has become authentically Qiao’s, while Bin, a coward now seeking to avoid her, is on a downward path of emasculation. As an actress, Zhao has never been better than in this role, demonstrating an impressive ability to reveal emotion through the slightest facial expression. Bin’s new girlfriend, an arrogant beauty, sits Qiao down to boast her own ascendancy. Qiao’s passive control is a marvel of subtle put-down. Jia also gives Qiao some semi-comic scenes as she makes her way through the city, scoring money and food by a series of small but effective cons.

As the film moves on again in time and place, Jia’s camera takes in a swath of China by train and other conveyances, through landscapes and landmarks that have been seen in his earlier films and have the aspect of much loved touchstones in all their scarred natural beauty and industrial ugliness. Qiao, rejected and bereft, is now alone and apparently content as the owner of a rural mahjong gambling parlor, back where she started, operating out of what was the former back room of Bin’s club. She has not seen the last of Bin, a broken man who returns only to again prove his unworthiness. Qiao’s final triumph is survival; Jia’s open-ended message one of a woman’s endurance.

“Girls of the Sun,” by French director Eva Husson (“Bang Gang”), a drama about a battalion of Kurdish women fighting ISIS in North Kurdistan, is the first to premiere among the only three films directed women selected for this year’s Cannes competition. The French journalist Mathilde (Emmanuelle Bercot of “My King” and “Polisse”), who is embedded with these fighters for the duration of the film’s war story, admits at one point to questioning whether there is still a value to telling the truth. The truth about “Girls of the Sun” is that it is a well-meaning timid tribute that follows the usual pattern of the war correspondent subgenre, glorifying its brave subjects without taking any risks.

Mathilde arrives at the stronghold of the female fighters, and after some mild resistance from commander Bahar (Golshifteh Farahani of “Paterson”) the two women find a common bond. Mathilde was widowed when her husband, also a journalist, was blown up in Libya. Bahar’s husband was executed by ISIS on the same night that she was captured along with thousands of other women and little girls of the Yazidi religious minority, including her sister fighters, to be beaten, starved, and sold again and again as a sex slave. Those women who are motivated to join the armed resistance achieve a double revenge when they kill, for the ISIS men believe that they cannot be admitted to paradise if killed by a woman.

“Girls of the Sun” is choppy in its construction, sanitized in its imagery, alternating scenes set in the abandoned buildings and tunnels where the fighters are holed up waiting for an attack, and flashbacks to Bahar’s life during captivity, including her escape. In the film’s press notes, director Husson states that she did not wish to depict the victimization of the Yazidi women in a way that could be regarded as voyeurism. She brings up a valid dilemma, but doesn’t find any effective way to solve the problem of making a film that includes atrocities to women and children while communicating the scope of the horror in a manner that does not exploit.

What it takes to be a woman is a question at the heart of the Belgian film “Girl” by Lukas Dhont, presented in the A Certain Regard section of the festival. As a first feature, it competes for the Camera d’Or, and is also in competition for the independently sponsored and awarded Queer Palm, an LGBT prize. This coming-of-age film centers on a sensitive performance by Viktor Polster as Lara, a 15-year old ballerina-in-training. A new student desperate to pass her probation period at the country’s most prestigious ballet academy, winsome blonde Lara has talent, technique, and the requisite long willowy body. She also has a penis.

With the support of her loving single dad, the guidance of a team of doctors, and the acceptance of classmates, largely blasé about her difference, Lara is undergoing hormone therapy and preparing for the transitional surgery when she is eighteen. Her situation is presented as about as ideal as it can get, and yet it’s not. Between generalized adolescent angst and Lara’s resolve that most decisions and pleasures in life must remain on hold until her transition is complete, much goes wrong.

“Girl” suffers from too many agendas. On one hand, this is a film about the training and trials of a ballerina, which leads to the sameness of lengthy and repetitious rehearsals and classes, with lines of sweaty dancers en pointe, with shots of bleeding toes and taped ankles. On the other hand, it’s most specifically a film about Lara, a transgender woman, with a carefully presented informational side of medical and psychological detail. Director Dhont blends it all well enough to make a highly sympathetic middle-of-the road drama, but not a deeply affecting one, despite his questionable choice to go for shock value in the end.

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