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barbers-glimmerin-darlin · 3 years

Text

Golden

Charlie Barber x (female) Reader

Summary: Charlie gets you a gift for doing well at work. Fluffy AF

Warnings: Sugar daddy themes, mentions of food, brief mention of alcohol, nickname ‘princess’

Word count: 1.6k

***

You breathed a sigh of relief as you finally stepped through the door to your apartment, closing it behind you with a decisive thud. You kicked your shoes off in record time, placing your laptop bag down by the little side table, and finally placed your coat on the last available coat hook. Damn, it was good to be home.

The smell of garlic, tomatoes, and assorted herbs greeted you as you stepped further into the welcoming air of your home, and you felt your stomach rumble in anticipation of the delicious meal you could smell. It brought a soft smile to your face to think about the ‘chef’ in question.

“Honey, I’m home.” You singsonged in a teasing way, making your way to the kitchen where you could hear the sound of pots and pans being used. Before you got the chance to make it to the threshold, Charlie’s head and shoulders popped around the doorframe, checking to see if he’d actually heard you over the din of his cooking. His face broke into a charming smile when he saw his ears hadn’t deceived him.

“Hey sweetheart.” He greeted you, moving out of the kitchen to meet you halfway across the living room. He looked effortlessly put together in his sharp black slacks and pale blue shirt, unbuttoned enough to show his clavicle, sleeved rolled up to just underneath his elbows.

He leant down to press his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, broad shoulders bowing slightly as he descended to your level. His plump lips and warm tongue tasted faintly of expensive red wine, and you imagined him pouring himself a glass to enjoy while he cooked, maybe he even added a little in with the food.

“I didn’t expect you to be home already.” You told him, placing your hands on his strong shoulders and kneading them gently.

“Well, when you texted me earlier and told me how well your review had gone at work, I decided I wanted to have dinner ready for you by the time you came home, just as a little celebration.” He told you quietly, looking deeply into your eyes as he placed his large hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You couldn’t help the shy smile that rose up onto your lips.

“You didn’t have to do that Charlie! It was only a silly quarterly review!” You laughed, Charlie really took the tiniest opportunity to shower you with praise, it was ridiculous and heart-warming in equal measure.

“It’s not silly at all princess, I’m so proud of you. I even got you a little present.” He said, his voice lilting with a slight air of mischief. You gave him a mock-stern look, placing your hands flat to his chest.

“Charlie Barber you are an absolute menace with your gifts.” You said, though it was plainly evident that you were highly curious about what this gift was. It was true, Charlie would buy you a present for saying ‘bless you’ when he sneezed if he could. While it had been a shock to you at first, him buying obscenely expensive presents for seemingly no reason at all, a couple of things quickly became apparent to you.

Firstly, that these lavish gifts barely even made a dint in Charlie’s bank balance, this much was evident by the numerous designer watches he had collected, the quality of his clothes, and his gorgeous apartment. Charlie’s wonderful talent as a director had made him rich beyond belief, and while he didn’t brag about it, he certainly wasn’t ashamed of it either.

Secondly, over the time you had been together, almost three years now, it had become clear that giving you beautiful things was just one of the ways that Charlie liked to express his feelings for you. He wasn’t always the best at saying out loud, but when he returned home with an outrageously pricey lingerie set, or a custom made dress for date night at the most exclusive restaurant in the city, you knew it had more meaning to it than the promise of a long night of lovemaking, and some good food.

“You’ll like it, I promise.” He husked into your ear before releasing you from his hold and moving over to the dining table. You hadn’t noticed the small box lying atop it when you had entered, but you eyed it now as he brought it over to you. As soon as you saw the lustrous red hue of the box, you knew exactly where Charlie had got his purchase from. Cartier.

Sure enough, as he held the box in front of you, you took in the elegant gold calligraphy which proudly announced the name of the brand atop the shiny red box. Clearly he had been feeling extra proud when he went gift shopping today.

“Let it never be said that Charlie Barber does anything by half.” You teased him, he responded with a smirk as he deftly unlatched the box to present the contents to you.

Nestled securely in the black velvet was a glittering gold bracelet, incredibly simple in design, seemingly just one solid gold circle with no gaudy decoration to mar the quality of the metal. Upon closer inspection, the bracelet was inlaid in regular intervals with what looked to be… circle screwheads? Your confusion only grew as you examined the other item in the box, a tiny golden screwdriver, with a flat head that looked as though it would fit perfectly in the grooves of the screws placed in the bracelet.

“It’s absolutely beautiful honey, but what-” You began to question, unsure of what the intricacy of the piece was all about.

“It’s designed so that you can only put it on and take it off by unscrewing it, so that it’s secure.” He told you, drinking in the way your eyes were lit up with awe, he never doubted that you would like the gifts he picked for you but it never dulled the thrill of seeing your delight.

“Will you help me put it on?” You asked him, suddenly giddy to have this beautiful piece of artwork on you, so you could proudly display it. He chuckled lowly at your eagerness but ushered you to go and sit on the couch where he shortly joined you.

You couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the motions of his hands as they used the tiny screwdriver to release the opening of the bracelet. His hands were so big and strong, it was a wonder that he managed to operate them with such dexterity, but he’d proven on many occasions that his hands were highly skilled at many tasks.

He slipped the bracelet onto your left wrist, and you took a moment to focus on the coolness of the gold on your skin, the subtle weight of it letting you know that it was a genuine article, not that you expected anything less from Charlie. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your lips as you watched him use the screwdriver once again to tighten the screw back into place, securing the bangle on your wrist, though he ensured that it wasn’t too tight, and that it could still move slightly.

He caught your wrist gently in his hand when he finished, admiring the way the light glinted of the precious metal he had just affixed to your lovely arm, he smiled warmly at how beautiful you made such a simple piece of jewelry look. He flipped the screwdriver in his hand and offered the handle to you, gesturing for you to take it. His brow furrowed when you shook your head at him.

“I want you to keep it.” You told him, turning the hand that he held in his to lace your fingers through his much larger ones. You wanted him to keep the screwdriver, it felt right in every way. This bracelet was such a clear symbol of Charlie’s feelings for you, his love for you, that it only seemed right that he should be the one with the means to remove it.

Charlie’s beautiful brown eyes searched yours for a fleeting moment, and you saw his Adam's apple bob slightly, as if he’d just swallowed a wave of emotion. It wasn’t long before a handsome smile broke out across his face, warming your insides instantly. He let go of your hand and placed his on the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb, holding the screwdriver tighter in his other hand.

“It’s safe with me princess, I promise.” He assured you before leaning in to catch your lips with another tingling kiss. You knew what he meant, it was safe with him. Not only did he trust you with his heart, he was humbled that you allowed him to leave that little piece of him on you at all times. He wanted you to be the home to his feelings for as long as you would have him. He trusted you with his love, and in return you trusted him with yours.

“I love it.” You told him when you had pulled your lips away from him, resting your forehead against his, carding your fingers through his soft, thick hair. Your bracelet sparkled in the lamplight as your wrist moved, and it ignited a pleasant warmth in your tummy. That very same tummy chose that moment to emit a loud rumble, seemingly disgruntled that dinner had been momentarily forgotten about.

The pair of you both laughed at the interruption, and Charlie made haste in standing up, pulling you up with him.

“Luckily for you, dinner’s ready. Will you set the table for me?”

(This is the bracelet in question, it’s called the Cartier Love bracelet and I am literally obsessed with them. They retail for just under £4,000 which is why I have self indulgently imagined Charlie gifting us one for absolutely no reason at all. JUST COS HE LOVES US. OKAY?!)

#Charlie Barber #Charlie Barber x Reader #let this be the start of my #Sugar daddy!Charlie #adventure #Marriage Story #golden #Adam Driver #ADCU

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sabraeal · 3 years

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Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Written for @vfordii‘s birthday which was....five months ago. BUT LISTEN, it’s still better than last year’s six months so like...improvement. IMPROVEMENT.

“You know why I called you here.” The Marshal’s voice is soft, barely louder than the hum of the fluorescents. “I presume.”

Shirayuki catches herself at the edge of her seat, chest pitched forward, neck craning to decipher every word and--

She settles back with a frown. Even a PhD isn’t a defense to the cheapest tactic on the pop-psych bookstore self-help shelf, it seems. Worse, Izana knows it, his mouth tipped so subtly toward a smile. And now he knows she knows it, and--

Her mug has gone cool, but it’s at least a credible distraction, a convenient way to buy some time and save face. Not something she ever expected she’d care about. Doesn’t mean she won’t take the opportunity.

“Zen.” The ceramic clacks like a shot as she sets it down. “You want to talk about the drift.”

“Yes.” He breathes, long and labored. “And no. I want him back in the cockpit.”

Come see me at your earliest convenience, his email had said, practically polite by PPDC standards. Manners atrophied when a body spent so much time in the higher altitudes of the chain of command. I’d like to discuss a few things with you.

She’d known what this would be about. What it was always going to be about. And still--

Shirayuki is still disappointed. “You have to be joking. It took him three years to get him into a jaeger at all, and you want to just...push him right back in.”

“No,” he hums, fingers still and steepled over his desk. “I want you to do it.”

There are rules of engagement for tangling with the Marshal. Voices are to be kept low, steady. Think before speaking. Don’t react. Showing an emotion in front of Izana Wisteria would be as good as handing him a rope to hang her with. “I’m not his commander.”

His fingers knit, knuckles popping in the silence-- “I know that, Doctor.”

Her own are curled into fists; at least then he can’t see them shaking. “Then I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to do your job,” he tells her, with only a pause for breath before he does. “I am merely suggesting that it is far past time to remove the kid gloves you have been handling him with.”

Her fists clench, hard enough to leave vivid crescents in the meat of her palms. “I believe I’m the judge of that.”

“Of course.” Every word drips with insincerity. “But I’m sure a little encouragement from you would--”

“I’ll do what’s necessary for the health of my patient,” she informs him, words clipped. “You’re not my commander.”

Izana stills, gaze riveted to her. “I am well aware of that, doctor. But I need him in a jaeger yesterday.”

“You’ve needed him in a jaeger for the past three years.” Shirayuki bolts to her feet, and oh, if only she could locate at least another foot of height, she might be able to finally have the high ground in one of these arguments. “I don’t see what the rush is now.”

His voice doesn’t raise above a pleasant chat, but bitterness weighs down every word. “You should.”

Shirayuki doesn’t believe in violence. Or rather, violence is a choice, and she doesn’t believe in choosing it unless no other option remains that causes less harm, but, well--

She’s got a very short list of people who deserved a black eye, and Izana Wisteria sorely tempts her to put his name on it. “What do you mean by that?”

The Marshall is all tense lines behind the battlement of his desk, a buttress against the fall. “Aren’t you a part of K-Science?”

The only distinction that mattered in the dome was between combatants and non; that a licensed therapist fell more into the ‘administration’ box rather than ‘research scientist’ was the least of their concerns. At least as far as the placement of her office. “Tangentially.”

“Well then.” His tension washes away like debris after the storm. “It’s all in the numbers.”

Shirayuki has been trained extensively in conflict resolution, in effective communication, in managerial manipulation, and still, still-- annoyance dogs her every step, nipping at her heels as she loses herself in the dome’s labyrinth of corridors. For once it would be nice to leave the Marshal’s office with something more like a sense of purpose and less like a reprieve in shoving boulders up a muddy hill in Tartarus, but this far into her tenure with the PPDC, she knows better than to hope for impossible asks. It’s not a new feeling by any means-- there’s certainly a hole worn in her heart for just this sort of fruitless anger and a monkey on her back with Izana Wisteria’s face, but he’s certainly devised an entirely new way to get her hackles up today.

Long limbs insinuate themself next to hers, a white-clad arm weaving its way around her elbow. She looks up-- not far-- into a pearl white, movie star grin.

“Well, well,” Yuzuri lilts, halfway between a drawl and singsong. “Someone’s looking stormy.”

Shirayuki doesn’t know how tall a person has to be to be considered thunderous, but if the crinkle to Yuzuri’s eyes are any indication, she’s well below the mark. “I was meeting with the Marshal.”

Yuzuri swings a single, impressed note. “Yeah, that’d do it. Or, I’d imagine it would. Not like he asks to see many of us in K-Science.”

Funny, she doesn’t say, since he’s so comfortable quoting your data. “You should probably count yourself lucky on that one.”

“Oh, yeah.” Yuzuri waves a hand, bangles jangling down her wrist. “Garrack handles him. Honestly, I think she enjoys the aggravation.”

Knowing Garrack like she does, Shirayuki certainly wouldn’t discount it.

Slender fingers flick out a sharp snap. “Hey, maybe you can send her the next time you need to deal with His Majesty. I’m sure she’d kill for a distraction just about now.”

“Oh, no! I’m-- I don’t need any help, it’s just...” She frowns, rifling through the satchel slung over her shoulder. She hardly has anything in it-- lip balm, her notes, a pack of tissues, her civilian identification, her wallet-- but still, her keys are shifted underneath the whole of her life, jingling just out of her reach.

It’s a metaphor, probably, but her love affair with literature is at too much of a standstill these days for her to bother unpacking it. Not when it’s probably going to end in her storming back into the Marshal’s office and demanding he show her some form of respect if he expects her to do her job.

Yuzuri’s mouth curls into a sly smile. “He’s top brass that’s used to having full grown adults ask how high rather than why?”

“That’s part of it,” she admits begrudgingly. “But it would also be nice if he could say what he means, instead of--youch!”

Metal teeth digging painfully into her palm, but she holds on anyway, dragging the ring right out, hair ties and all.

“Instead of...?” Yuzuri prompts, far too amused.

She heaves a sigh, plucking rubber bands off her hand. “Making it all some sort of...logic block word puzzle.”

Blonde brows slant skeptically. “I thought you loved those things.”

“For fun. Not for...” She waves a hand, keys jingling and brightly as Yuzuri’s bangles. “...Professional conversations. I’m not here for his entertainment. I don’t have time for-- for games!”

“Not when you could be doing your actual job.”

“Right.” Her actual job, which has almost exclusively been managing Zen’s feelings regarding Izana for months now. “And now he wants me to...“

She hesitates, teeth sinking into her lip. Outside the dome, patient confidentiality is the backbone of her profession, but here, when everyone eats and breathes and lives on top of one another--

“Lemme guess,” Yuzuri drawls, “get that boy in a pilot seat?”

-- it’s impossible. “I just wish he would show some faith.”

“In you?”

“No.” That’s asking far too much from a man who has only ever trusted as far as the drift could take him. She heaves a sigh, flyaways fluttering in her peripherals. “In Zen.”

A laugh huffs out of Yuzuri. “That’s asking a bit much from an older brother, don’t you think?”

Shirayuki has never, strictly, had a sibling. Ryuu certainly straddles the line between friend, colleague, and family, but she’s never doubted his drive, or the rigorous course of his research. He wouldn’t be her first choice to stand in front of the PPDC committee and defend her findings, but in a pinch, she would trust him wholeheartedly, with no reservations, to do the job.

That does not seem to be the unifying sibling experience. “Is it?”

Yuzuri grins. “You are definitely an only child.”

She restrains her scowl to a disapproving frown. “Maybe, in this case, that’s a good thing.”

They turn down a corridor, and relief floods into her-- this is it, the hall that holds her office at the end. She takes a step forward, but Yuzuri holds her back, gaze fixed leagues away.

“Do you really think he’ll do it?” She blinks, eyes finally focusing down on Shirayuki. “You really think he’ll get back in that jeager?”

“Yes.”

Yuzuri recoils, blinking. “Wow, no hesitation on that one, huh?”

“None,” she agrees, a smile lingering at the edge of her lips. “I know Zen might be hurting right now after--” the most disastrous drift she’s witnessed in her entire career-- “everything, but he...”

She takes in a breath, putting her back to her door. “No matter what happens, Zen always does the right thing.” It’d been that unwavering moral compass that had drawn her to him, a shining bright light among the downtrodden heart of the dome. “He may need a little time to pick himself back up, dust himself back off, but he knows that one day, he’ll have to sit down and talk this out, not run--”

“But not today, it looks like.” Yuzuri’s hand darts right over her shoulder, plucking something off her door.

Shirayuki blinks, letting the yellowed square of paper come into focus.

Something came up. Rain check ~Z

She stares, fingers numb as she swipes the scrap out of Yuzuri’s hands.

“That sunovabitch,” she grits out, paper dinting beneath her grip. “He’s avoiding me.”

“So.” Yuzuri cocks her head, mouth stretching wide. “Wanna grab some grub?”

“I’m just saying.” Suzu’s hand scribbles across a napkin, dropping symbols more arcane than any rift. “If I could just get any of the brass to take a good look at this, things would be different.”

“Different how?” Kazaha drawls, accusation dripping from every word. At least, that’s how it sounds-- it hadn’t taken Shirayuki long to realize that’s just how the man speaks, every phoneme meant to cut glass. The asshole accent, Yuzuri calls it. “Does this somehow improve the quality of life in the dome? The world? The--?”

“It’ll certainly improve my quality of life if I don’t have to hear about it,” Yuzuri deadpans. “C’mon, we’re eating dinner. Let’s put the toys away.”

“It’s not a toy, it’s a tool,” Suzu grumbles, finishing it with a flourish. “And if we used it, we’d know when the kaiju would show up, instead of just waiting for them to wade into the Sea of China or whatever.”

That, at least, gets the team to bow their heads over it, passing around frowns and furrows alike.

“If that was the case,” Kazaha sniffs, pushing it away. “Garrack Gazelt would have already put this in front of the Marshal.”

Suzu scowls, yanking it back. “You know that none of those jarheads appreciate good science! Until I get this paired up with some pretty little graphs, I might as well be speaking Japanese.”

Izuru perks up at that. “Doesn’t the Marshal speak Japanese?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“Hm.” Ryuu squirms next to her, craning his head over the napkin. “I think you’re missing a variable.”

“Impossible.” Suzu stares down at it. “Just look here--”

Shirayuki glances down, letters and numbers do-si-doing between roots and over fractions. Izana might shove her office all the way down in K-Science, but that certainly didn’t give her the training to decipher this little bit of mathematical prognostication.

Suzu pitches forward, felt-tip pen rolling across his knuckles in a bit of sleight-of-hand she would have never thought him capable of. “--you’ll see that by putting ‘a’ over ‘n’ squared--”

“All right.” Yuzuri’s fingers knit in the cotton of his button-down, dragging him back down onto the bench with a thump. “I think we’ve had quite enough of that.”

With a lift of his brows, Suzu’s face shifts from fox to puppy in eight muscles flat. “But, Yuzuri--”

“No buts.” Her fingers pluck the pen out of his, dropping it back into a pocket with a firm, warning pat. “Now, as I was trying to say: His Highness is avoiding you.”

Shirayuki blinks, gaze dragging up to where Yuzuri waits with an impatient smirk. “N-no! That’s not it at all. Something probably came up--”

“Izana’s avoiding you?” Suzu swings a wide, gaping stare at her. “Didn’t you just have a meeting today? What did you do to him?”

Her hands fly up, waving off the accusation. “Ah, no, I didn’t--”

“No, not His Majesty, His Highness,” Yuzuri corrects, blowing on a spoonful of the mess’s finest chicken noodle. “And he is avoiding you, which is bullshit.”

She has to bite her cheeks to keep her lips from peeling back into a grimace. “Zen has lots of work to keep him busy--”

“What work?” Kazaha scoffs, meticulously cutting his chicken into bite-sized pieces. “He’s a ranger without a co-pilot. It’s not like he can just jump into a jaeger and fight kaiju with half a working mecha.”

Yuzuri swivels toward him, hands held out with a level of emphasis Shirayuki can’t help but feel is more than the situation truly deserves. Especially since some of the rangers are starting to peer over their way. “See, even Kazaha knows it’s bullshit.”

His mouth purses into a tight frown. “I don’t know why it’s even Kazaha--”

Yuzuri’s brows make a dubious stretch toward her hairline. “I’m pretty sure you do.”

“--I’m very socially astute, even Shidan--”

“--just because he lets you out of the lab doesn’t mean you don’t offend people by breathing--”

“I dunno.” Suzu’s forehead furrows, tapping a spoon on each of his oyster crackers, drowning them in broth. “Zen seems like a real upright guy, you know? Forthright. If he had a problem, he’d say something, not just ghost you.”

Yuzuri stares at him. “He buys you one bubble tea, and now he can do no wrong.”

“Do you know how hard those are to get out here? He had to go all the way out to--”

Whatever else Suzu means to say, it’s lost in the siren.

This isn’t Shirayuki’s first time in the dome-- far from it-- but it’s never easy.

The siren’s moan shivers through the air, something she feels rather than hears. Her teeth rattle in her mouth, and there’s nothing she wants to do more than curl up beneath the table and ride it out, eyes squeezed shut and hands over her ears. She wouldn’t be the only one; already half of K-Science is on the ground, tears streaming down more than one ashen face.

Man’s worst enemy is fear. Grandpa had told her that, letting her dip her toes into the bay. She’d been small, young enough that she still wondered if kaiju might lurk under the surface, waiting to pull tasty little girls beneath the depths. Kaiju can only kill you once, but fear kills a hundred times. His hand sits heavy on her shoulder, a comfort, a cage; and she--

She gets up.

Pilots and personnel scramble; one tech stands up too fast, boot hooking on the bench’s edge and sprawling face-first into the floor. It’s only ranger reflexes that keep her from getting trampled, dodging around the splay of her fingers with a dexterity that would make Shirayuki’s jaw drop if she wasn’t trying to keep all her molars from jittering out of their sockets.

There’s a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t just imagined it, a goad to get her standing. She traces the hand back, up ranger fatigues to dark hair, brows raised, and beneath them--

It’s violet eyes, not gold. Not Obi, but a ranger she’s never seen before, his mouth quirked with cold consideration.

“It would be safer,” he says, voice somehow Altantic-crisp over the cacophony, “if you stayed in your seat.”

Her mouth opens, working around the sounds to thank him, but he’s already gone, disappeared into the crowd of PPDC personnel around her. Shirayuki’s eyes shift over the mob, trying to-- to find him, maybe, or at least a face she knew, someone that she could talk to, someone to memorize one last time--

She finds one, silver-blond hair shimmering at the door, too pale to be anyone else. Zen. It’s Zen looking right at her, those deep blue eyes inscrutable, mouth carved into a line more grim than he’s ever shown her.

He turns away.

“It’s too soon, though,” Suzu murmurs, staring down at his napkin. The screens are on now, muted by the siren’s wails, and there’s a Kaiju on it, frill rigid around its reptilian face as it tears a city to twisted metal ribbons. It’s just buildings, streets, impossible to tell which one, but all that matters right now is not here.

“As I said,” Ryuu says, only just audible over the drone. “You dropped a variable.”

What hurts most, once her teeth stop rattling and her heart ceases to pound in her chest, is that Yuzuri is right-- Zen is avoiding her.

“The sessions are his choice.” Labeling tubes isn’t quite how Shirayuki had envisioned her evening going, especially with her mind half-away, pondering over the Pacific, but it’s something to do. “No one can force him to come.”

“Sounds like that’s half the problem,” Garrack mutters, forehead pressed to the hood, leaving a faint, oily smear across the glass. “Free will. Foils gods and men alike, doesn’t it?”

Her mouth pulls down at the corners, a bow stretched too tight, just like her patience. “I don’t want him to be forced. Therapy only works if the patient wants to change.”

Which, by Zen’s conspicuous absence, tells her he doesn’t. He’s happy as he is, wearing the fatigues but never getting in the cockpit, waiting for a copilot that’s already shown how little he cares about anything but lining his own pocket.

“Of course. You can lead a horse to water, but you’ll never make it drink.” It’s impressive to watch Garrack work; even in rubber sleeves, her grip never trembles, never slips. In the same position, Shirayuki can barely close a fist, but Garrack’s got the same dexterity in the hood as she does out of it. “Good thing you get paid regardless.”

Shirayuki flushes, heat pricking at her pride. “I’m not worried about that.”

“No, I wouldn’t think you are,” Garrack murmurs. “I’m just saying it’s nice. Salaried, with room and board to boot.”

Her frown falls further, flirting with a glower. “I’m aware that I’m in the unique position of not having to care in an official capacity if he bothers to come back. But personally--” her breath catches, stomach doing one, solid somersault-- “I do. I want him to want this.”

Garrack hums, not an agreement or judgement, but an acknowledgement. Tactic permission to proceed.

“Izana wants me to tells him to climb into a jeager, to use my-- our personal connection to manipulate him into the cockpit, regardless of what his personal feelings are.” Her breath rushes from her lungs, suddenly ragged, frayed at either end. “No, encourage. That’s what he told me. That it’s my job to do it for humanity.”

One thick eyebrow arches under Garrack’s cap, her eyes bright with interest. “And how do you feel about that?”

It’s strange being on the other side of this question, to be the analyzed instead of the analyzer. She squirms, teeth worrying at her lip, mind racing with possibilities.

“C’mon now,” Garrack chides, mouth hooking into a smirk. She picks up her rack, rattling the small tubes in their holes. “I gave you those for a reason. Idle hands are the devil’s playground, you know-- at least, that’s what people say when they’re afraid of what you’ll get up to if you start thinking.”

She tosses her a wink, ejecting the tip of her pipette into the trash before fitting on another. “Too bad they don’t know that drudgery clears your mind. Have all my best ideas when I’ve got a sharpie and a hundred two-mils to get through. So come on--” she grins, all conspiracy-- “tell me. What do you think of our illustrious leader’s idea?”

Her teeth click shut around her first opinion-- saying Izana Wisteria should go suck eggs would not only please Garrack far too much, but would be around the rest of the base by morning. The last thing she needs is the Marshal inviting her into his office and reading that off one of his hundreds of emails. “...Think that’s beyond my professional scope to comment on.”

“Oh please.” Garrack waves her off, one rubber arm flailing behind the glass. “I’m not asking you to issue a formal complaint about the marshal’s policies. I want to know if you think that kid should get in that steel coffin and kick the closest kaiju in whatever passes for their balls. If throwing another body at the breach is what’s best for humanity.”

“I...”

It shouldn’t be. There’s more rangers on this base than jaegers to fit them; one career pilot pulling back to fill the ranks shouldn’t be more than a drop in the bucket, a chair to fill. But this is no ordinary jaeger-- this is Rex Tyrannous, the most advanced piece of machinery to roll out of a PPDC facility before or since. Rebuilt from the same blueprint as the Mark I, reconfigured with the best technology the Mark III could offer, the Mark IV’s older, more deadly brother, and--

And the money for it hadn’t come out of Defense Corps coffers. No matter how many hopefuls washed up at the dome, the King of Kaijus wouldn’t come out of its box for anyone less than a Wisteria, not as long as at least one was still standing.

“Yes.” She spits the word out like poison, but still she feels unclean. “There’s no one else that can do what he needs to.”

Garrack’s mouth twists in a wry curve. “Then there you go.”

“It’s a conflict of interest!” Shirayuki insists, the sharpie in her hand shaking as she tries to form a 4. “If there was anyone on this base that had the credentials, I’d-- I’d put in the referral myself. He deserves someone that’s impartial--”

“Shirayuki.” With exaggerated care, Garrack pulls her arms from the hood, letting her hands fall down to her lap. “Do you think there is a single soul in this dome who could do the math you did and not be partial?”

Her mouth works, opening once, twice, before settling shut with a snick.

“I didn’t hire you because you lacked bias.” Garrack’s voice pitches low, softer than she’s ever heard her, knuckles white where they clasp her knees . “You wrote a paper about PTSD in rangers that lost a partner in the drift. A paper, might I add, that showed a great deal of knowledge in jaeger production and use. The sort of thing no one learns unless they’ve been locked up under a dome for years before being released in the wild.”

It’s not an accusation, not yet, but Shirayuki’s hands still anyway, clammy beneath latex.

“Because of that useless wall, we’re years behind in jaeger production. We need new mechs, and Rex Tyrannous is the best model we got left, whether it’s been sitting in its box for half a decade or not. ” She settles back, brow arched. “But I don’t need to tell you that, now do I?”

No. Her fingers clench hard around the sharpie. She doesn’t.

“Shirayuki, I know you’re a good kid, but you do get to be selfish sometimes.” Garrack grins, too pleased at the prospect. “You’re human, just like the rest of us. There’s no one who doesn’t have skin in this game.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “But it’s my job to do what’s best for him as my patient, not just--”

Garrack snorts. “Oh, is the discontinuation of the human race not going to affect him?”

Shirayuki frowns, opening her mouth to-- well, to say something quelling, no doubt. But-- “Oh.”

Garrack hunches over her lap, forearms braced on her thighs. “I know the Wisterias put on a good show of being gods, but they’re flesh and blood like the rest of us. It doesn’t do anyone good for them to sit out the apocalypse. Not even themselves.”

“But, I...” She sets the tubes down, gloves crinkling into fists. “I don’t know what happened in the drift, just what the readouts said. It could have been a failure on Obi’s side just as much as his, and if they’re not compatible--”

“Then just ask him,” Garrack sighs, swiveling back toward the hood. “You don’t need to try to read minds.”

“But he’s not talking--”

“Not that Wisteria prick.” She chucks her chin toward the door, toward the vague direction of the dome beyond. “The other one. Seems like the real problem there might be getting him to stop talking.”

“Obi?” She blinks. He’s friendly, sure, but she wouldn’t say he’s been one to volunteer information.

“If that’s the one that’s down here every other day, talking my ears off with Suzu, then yes.” One rubber arm flails at her through the glass. “Now get out of here, and get those two little shits inside their tuna can before a Cat 5 can make it down the coast and make us regret it.”

When she steps into the hall, Shirayuki has every intention of following Garrack’s advice. It’s solid, after all; in a two-sided problem where one solution makes itself unavailable, the obvious answer is the best approach-- especially when in this labyrinth of a dome, there’s only so many places where he can hide.

She stops by the mess for a peace offering. Obi might be disposed to be friendly toward her at the moment, but she knows all too well how far good will will get her if she’s going to start rummaging around in things he’d rather keep cooped up behind that smile. Quality coffee and some contraband cookies might not mend the bridges she burns, but it’ll at least keep them standing while she’s walking over it.

It’s a good plan, a solid plan; she just doesn’t anticipate the company.

“Shirayuki.” Dark circles ring dark eyes, but Mitsuhide smiles just as warm as he always does, sprawled stiffly on the bench. “It’s good to see you.”

“I should be saying the same thing!” she gasps, her and her tea sliding in across from him at the formica table. “I thought you’d be out...” in your tuna can.

She bites her cheek, just hard enough to keep the words from spilling out. Sometimes she really, truly wishes she didn’t listen to Garrack quite as much; her mouth and Garrack’s words made a volatile mix. The sort that would get her a dishonorable discharge, if she weren’t a civilian-- or careful.

“We were. I mean, I was. Both Kiki and myself.” His body twists with a good, solid shake, eyes clearing. “Sorry, just had to exorcise the ghost. You know how it is.”

She doesn’t, but she does. There’s papers on the subject; reams of them-- Longevity of neural imprints in active rangers had been a favorite when she’d been in undergrad, as well as the far more entertaining, Ghost Drifting: How does one leave a ghost while still alive? It’s still novel to witness it, to see that spectral presence cling to the neural stem so long after--

“We just got back a little while ago.” He shifts, his right leg stretching long across the floor, knee bucking stiffly. “Kiki hit the rack, but I needed to, ah, take a walk.”

That’s his-- his good leg, as Kiki likes to call it, the half of him that becomes Redwood Dancer to pair with her left. That’s what makes them first line defense, even in an older Mark III; Kiki’s a real lefty, not one made by the drift. When Dancer throws a punch, both sides come full powered.

That’s what you get being the best of the best, Zen would say, envy and wistfulness thickening his voice, everyone knows they can count on you to serve.

That seems less like a good thing as Shirayuki sits across from it, watching the shadows shift in Mitsuhide’s eyes.

“Did you see it?” she asks, voice a whisper in the cavernous lair of the mess. “The kaiju?”

Mitsuhide grunts, shaking his head. “No, we were kept on standby. Got there after some of the boys in Hong Kong did, and they handled it.”

He doesn’t offer how well; she doesn’t ask.

“Ah,” she hums instead, hunching over her mug. “So it was out that way?”

“When they get that far down, yeah.” One of his large fingers wraps around the handle of his mug, bringing it to his mouth for a long, steady drag. “Not many wander out this way.”

“Alaska--”

“Yeah, there’s a few up north, and I think Seattle always has a good sweat when that happens, but...” His brows furrow, just a small wrinkle in the center of his forehead. “Not so much down here. Not anymore.”

Her palms press against warm ceramic, lips curling into a thin smile. “I guess we don’t have what they want. Whatever that is.”

His mouth gives a wryly twitch. “Thank God for small blessings.”

It would be nice to let the silence between them mellow, to allow herself a companionable respite after swallowing around her heart for half a day, but--

But there are things that won’t keep, no matter how much she’d like to set them aside, set them down even for just a moment. “Mitsuhide...”

He stiffens, the way a dog does when it hears its name shouted in the key of trouble. There’s two ways to respond to conflict, they used to say, fight or flight; years later they added freeze with as begrudging a reception as any change to common wisdom was given. But Mitsuhide does none of those; he just hunkers, eyes warm and dark and wary when they meet hers, hedged by hunched shoulders. The sort of man who grew up in a place where natural disasters are weathered in bathtubs and basements, or else watched from afar on front porches.

“I meant to talk to you.” Her fingers knit into the natural ridges of her mug; the only way to keep them from trembling. “After...after. I mean, not this, but before. The, um...”

It’s ridiculous how many calamities can cluster in a few hours. She’ll need to start numbering them to keep them all straight.

“The drift,” he rasps wearily. “Zen's talked about it with you, hasn’t he?”

Her mouth works; her duty to her profession says to keep it shut, to keep her patient’s business confidential, but her duty as a member of the human race, of a species that is growing more endangered by the year-- “He skipped his session.”

Shirayuki couldn’t have moved him if she hit him, but this rocks him back in his seat. “I’d been hoping...” He shakes his head, mouth curling into a rueful smile. “I thought I’d be the one trying to work something out of you.”

“Ah.” She bows her head, watching the leaves swirl in her tea. “So you haven’t had any luck either?”

Her shakes his head, disappointment stark in every sway. “He won’t talk about it. After he got out of the hanger he went and locked himself in his rack. He only agreed to come to the mess if we promised to drop the whole thing.”

Shirayuki winces. “I’d normally never ask, but when he didn’t show up to our usual appointment...”

Mitsuhide lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I don’t know why he’d do that. I’d give some of my teeth to let someone else listen to my head sometimes.”

She blinks. “You’re always welcome, if you wanted to.”

“No.” His mouth rucks up in a rueful curve. “I really couldn’t.”

“But--”

“The thing they don’t tell you before you get into that cockpit is--” he takes a deep breath, the air emptying out the tension in his shoulders-- “is that the second you hit the drift, all your secrets aren’t your own anymore.”

“Oh.” The drift is two minds laid bare to one another, the deepest form of trust, but in all her studies, she’d never thought what that meant. How tangled and deep a mind could become in things that weren’t theirs to know, weren’t their secrets to carry. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyebrows ruffle up an inch, curious. “Of course. Anything I can answer.”

“When you first came to the dome, you were...” Shirayuki bites her lips, considering. “You were Zen’s copilot. But then Kiki came...”

The PPDC might be the one that’s stamped on the letterhead, but the Wisterias are the spine of the jeager project as well as its face. Their neural net stretches far and wide through the Corp’s hierarchies, fingers in every pie, and although Zen might not be in the upper echelons of leadership, the sort of state secrets someone might glean from the casual details rattling around in his head...

Well, it’s a good thing the Seirans were just as entrenched.

“Why did you do it?” she asks finally, though it’s miles away from what she means. “Why change when you already...?”

“Ah, well...” Mitsuhide’s shoulders heave awkwardly. “It was an emergency, at first, and then...I don’t know how to explain it. We just fit. Not that I didn’t with Zen, but this was...”

He hesitates, smile edging towards a kind of self-deprecation that doesn’t quite fit him. “It was different. If that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” she admits. Not to her, at least, someone who has never been in a cockpit, who has never drifted over a set of pons and tried to make a connection. But to someone who has, who has spent the last half decade rotating through a list of hopefuls and throwing them all in the trash-- “But I think...maybe it could.”

Shirayuki would love to say that she’s experienced a perception shift, that a few words with Mitsuhide gave her a clarity that she needs to pore over before acting on, but the fact of it is-- she’s too anxious to approach Obi, pure and simple.

Not that he’s given her much cause; he’s scarce after that failure of a drift, but his absence lacks the marked purpose of Zen’s. It’s hard to find anyone after an attack; everyone’s on high alert, hypervigilant, waiting for another call to come like an aftershock. It’s never happened before, but to assume that means a double event is out of the question--

Well, humanity stopped making assumptions about what lurked beneath the Pacific the day Trespasser ripped the Golden Gate off its moorings.

She catches a glimpse of him every once and a while, always going the wrong way but with a smile to share before he disappears. He’s not avoiding her, he’s avoiding everyone else, and she’s just too much of a cog in the dome’s machinery to not be a casualty of it. It’s nothing personal, she’s sure, but with all the people giving her a wide berth lately, it’s hard not to feel that his absence is pointed.

Still, there are things that just won’t keep. She can’t just keep avoiding this because she’s afraid of one more rejection.

And that’s how she finds herself in the middle of the dome’s combat room, on the business end of Obi’s smirk.

“Doc,” he hums, kicking the end of his staff up to yoke his neck. He makes it look easy, like the jo is an extension of him rather than a separate piece. She can’t help but think of what he might do with a hundred tons of jeager strapped to him, how easy he might make it move. “Funny seeing you here.”

She nods, rocking on her toes. “It’s been a while.”

He swaggers toward her, stopping barely an arm’s length away, hip cocked. Sweat dews along every inch of him, his tank damp and clinging to the hard planes of his stomach, tighter than the lycra in her own gear. His pants swing low, leaving a sliver of skin between it and his shirt, and she--

She should really be looking elsewhere. He’s not a giant, not like Mitsuhide, but when she looks up, it’s a long way to meet his eyes. They’re laughing at her when she does.

“You’re not gonna get anything out of me, you know,” he says as if he’d like to see her try; a challenge rather than a defense. “What happens in the drift stays in the drift.”

Her mouth works; this time stuck less on the sweat crawling over his skin and more on how quickly she’s been made. “I didn’t say I was going to.”

“You had the look.” He shifts, hips drawing her gaze with them. When she glances back up, he seems to find that funny too. “Besides, why else would you come in here? Most shrinks I meet aren’t, hm, combat ready.”

“I-I work out!”

His eyebrows raise, mouth following suit. “That so?”

She flexes arm, baring what, in her humble opinion, is no small bicep. Kiki might have her beat, but in K-science terms she’s practically buff. “See?”

Obi slinks close, hunching over, jo and all, to give her offering a good squint. With a hum she’d like to think is at least mildly impressed, he straightens, suddenly so close she can smell the sweat on him and the faint whiff of his deodorant.

“Well then, I stand corrected.” His smile stretches Cheshire-wide as he steps aside, sweeping out a hand. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Shirayuki peers past him, fighting to keep the grimace from her face. She works out, sure, but more along the lines of slow and low. Yoga. Tai chi. Pilates. Things that promote mind and body balance. But even in the gym, all the equipment is meant for bulking muscle, for building the sort of bodies that can bear up a skyscraper. And the combat room...

Well the only equipment here is the jo in their rack and the tatami on the floor. This isn’t for people looking to do a pull up, it’s for rangers looking to spar.

“Tell you what, Doc,” Obi says, no small amount of amusement or pity in his voice. “I could use a cool down.”

His jo whips down from his shoulders, lightning fast, hands thrusting out in the air, and she--

Her hand rises to match, catching the jo mid-air. She sags under it, a little heavier than she expected from a stick that size, but keeps her feet under her. She glances back at Obi, wide-eyed, but he just lifts his brows, impressed. “How about we go a round, you and me?”

It’s a normal request-- maybe not to her, but the rangers certainly aren’t shy about taking conversations to the tatami. But Obi’s voice does something with it, pushes it down into a register that feels more mattress than mat, and she shivers as she lets the jo drop more naturally into her grip. “Me?”

“Well, I really thought you wouldn’t catch it.” His chin juts toward her staff. “But it looks like you at least know how to hold it.”

Her finger flex around the wood, settling against its smooth surface. “I’ve done it once or twice.”

A half dozen years ago, but he doesn’t need to know that.

His mouth twitches. “Great.”

Obi’s not a mountain of a man, not like Mitsuhide, but when he falls into stance, he could make himself one. It would take an earthquake to move him, and she has the world’s smallest lever. “Come at me.”

Shirayuki shuffles awkwardly on the mat, twisting the jo to rest on both her hands. It feels like she’s got two left ones holding it-- neither one of them are as good as Kiki’s-- but muscle serves her better than memory. Center yourself, Grampa told her, yanking her chest above her hips, feel the earth come to meet you. You’ll be part of it one day, and it’s ready.

Morbid, but it works. Her spine jolts into a straight line, weight teetering between her feet, and she takes her swing.

Obi doesn’t try to dodge. He could-- even in that split second, his muscles twitch, goading him to flee-- but he just raises his staff, a jolt she feels right down to her shoulders. The puny clack echoes in her ears. It’s nothing even close to how him and Zen were sparring.

“Go ahead.” He shifts his weight as she recovers, bracing himself. “Again.”

Right. Her feet flatten against the mat-- or at least they try to, pressing instead against the foam of her sneakers. Her sneakers that she’s still wearing, since she came in here thinking there would be an elliptical, or weights, or not this.

That won’t do at all. She toes them off, setting them at the edge of the tatami, the only spectators to her impending humiliation.

She hesitates, fingers peeling socks over her heels. Obi’s already said she won’t get any information out of him; she doesn’t need to do this. She could walk away right now, and the only consequence would be his teasing. And yet--

And yet, Shirayuki walks back, feet grounding against the weave beneath them. The jo settles between her hands. Obi grins.

When she moves again, it’s with more confidence, memory fueling her strike. He catches it again, but this time it doesn’t rattle her. At least, not until he moves too, viper fast, and then she’s scrambling again. She’s no noodle-armed K-science geek, no matter what Obi might say, but when she thrusts her staff up overhead to meet his swing, her arms tremble, teeth jangling in her mouth.

Obi retreats, amusement clinging to his lips, and she huffs. Maybe she can’t take the same sort of beating Kiki can, but she isn’t about to be some pushover.

She comes at him again, lower this time, on the outside. He’s not prepared-- she can tell the way his eyes widen-- but reflexes smooth his response, drawing her back with a few of his own strikes, and then--

Then it’s just trading blows. Not like his spar with Zen; he’s too skilled and she’s too inexperienced for this to be anything but a planned draw, for him to do anything but go easy on her. But still, still-- there’s a strange electricity every time they meet, more than just their jo rising to meet each other, an anticipation--

Obi steps back, brow furrowed. “Hm.”

Shirayuki’s panting, drenched, and he’s barely broken a sweat. “Is something wrong?”

It certainly doesn’t feel wrong to her.

“N-no.” He plucks her jo from her grip, the swagger gone from his hips as he mounts it on the wall beside his. “Just. Interesting.”

“Interesting?” she prompts hopefully.

Obi shrugs, like there’s an itch between his shoulders. “Did you need anything else, Doc?”

“I...” She bites down on the impulse to ask, to demand to know if he felt it too. “No. I should, um. Get going.”

“Nowhere to go but people to see, huh?” he laughs, but it’s weaker than his usual, stilted.

“Yeah,” she breathes, turning away. “Something like that.”

We just fit, Mitsuhide said with that strange look on his face, a yearning she knows now. If that makes sense.

“Obi?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounds distant, like it’s coming from another mouth, not her own. Maybe it’s just because she’s bent in half, working cotton over sweaty toes. Maybe it’s because it feels like she’s only working with half a body.

His head swivels, chin peeking over his shoulder. “Yeah, Doc?”

“It wasn’t you, was it?” He blinks, head tilting with confusion, and she clarifies, “It wasn’t your failure.”

His breath tumbles from his like wind over water; she swears she can feel the ripples of it even where she stands. “No,” he says, so soft it’s nearly lost over the rattle of the vents. “Not yet.”

The static fizzles on her skin, belly rocking as she bends to slip on her sneakers, and oh, Mitsuhide’s words might not have made sense before, but--

But she’s worried they’re starting to now.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #this chapter ended up being much more of a beast than i thought #and this is WITH some scenes getting moved to next chapter for like...SPACE #but that's pretty much what took this so long #trying to rearrange this to cover some of the big points that HAD to be covered by Shirayuki POV #so that this was only like...6K instead of 8K and double the chapter length of any one before it #DEEP SIGH #this is a hobby i choose to do for fun

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beck-a-leck · 3 years

Note

Kissing prompt! Shamelessly asking for #14 Cliff x Claire! 😌

I live to answer shameless prompts!

Send me a Smooch Prompt and a couple characters for all your self-indulgent needs!

#14 - A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they're finished.

Featuring Cliff and Claire, and just the teeniest bit of angst and sadness to really make the desperation stick.

Cliff packed slowly. He didn't want to leave the inn, didn't want to leave Mineral Town, didn't want to leave his friends, and perhaps most desperately, he didn't want to leave Claire. But there was nothing to be done for it. He had no money. There was no work to be found in town. Doug had already given him as much of a break on rent as he could afford, and Cliff had relied on Claire to feed him for most of a season now. He hated how much he had to rely on the kindness of others, how much he took that he could never pay back. He had become a burden, and he couldn't stand that.

As much as he did not want to leave Mineral Town, a place that had begun to feel more like home in the last year than any place had for such a long time, Cliff had to go. He had to find a job, and there were absolutely none to be found. He'd thought something might have come up last autumn at the winery, Duke had hired him and another guy to be the manual laborers during the harvest, but at the end of it all, Michael had been offered the chance to stay on full time. Michael had gotten along with Duke like a house on fire, they laughed and joked like they were old friends, even though Michael had only rolled into town one one of the last boats of the summer.

Winter was coming to its close, Cliff had spent a year here, and the last six months truly visualizing Mineral Town as home, as the place he would grow old in with the woman he loved. Maybe even one day, have a family again.

But those dreams had dwindled as rapidly as his funds.

This wouldn't be goodbye forever, Cliff and Claire had had a very long discussion about this, about his leaving, and their future together. If he was lucky, he'd find work somewhere else, he could start earning money, and saving money, building skills that he could some day bring back to Mineral Town and then maybe, in a year or two, he could come back.

But... it was a heavy Maybe. Maybe Cliff would never be able to go back to Mineral Town. Maybe his travels for a job took him too far away. Maybe Claire would fall in love with someone else in his absence, someone who could always be here for her, who wouldn't leave.

Cliff shoved the last few items into his bag and zipped it closed. He slung the pack over his shoulder and turned towards the door. His eyes fell on the room's other occupant.

"I'm gonna miss you, man," Gray said, trying and failing to keep the emotion from his voice. "You sure you don't want anyone to go with you down to the pier?"

"No," Cliff said quietly, "That's okay, I'd rather go alone. I've said my goodbyes."

"Yeah, well, you've got one more." Gray offered his hand. Cliff took it, and they shook for a moment, before the two of them, with a wet chuckle, pulled into a hug. "Won't be the same here without you." Gray thumped him on the back before letting go.

Without another word, Cliff hitched his pack up over his shoulders, and walked out of the room he'd called home for the last year. Ann was sweeping the stairs, and she gave him a tight hug as he passed. Down at the bar, Doug shook his hand firmly and sent him off with a "Good luck, son."

It was snowing, and a bitter cold wind was tearing at Mineral Town. Nobody else was out in the streets, or in the square. With every step Cliff took towards the beach, his heart sunk. Claire wouldn't be here. he had specifically asked her to not see him off like this. They'd said their goodbyes last night, and he, quite frankly, wasn't certain he could get on the ferry if she was there with him.

Snow and sand crunched beneath his feet as he crossed the beach to the pier. He perched gingerly on the icy bench and watched the distant shape of the ferry grow closer on the roiling gray sea.

He shivered and pulled his coat tight around him - Claire's Starry night present to him - it was warm and sturdy. He'd get many good years of use out of it. Wearing it was like walking around in her embrace.

The ferry was almost there when another body settled on the bench next to Cliff.

"Hey," Michael said with a slight smile, he was always smiling. No wonder Duke had asked him to stay on at the winery with a sunny attitude like that. "Cold enough, huh?"

"Yeah..." Cliff didn't feel much like talking. And as much as he didn't want to resent Michael, because the man hadn't done anything to him personally, there was a mean corner of him mind that kind of hated the guy for taking his chance to stay in Mineral Town forever.

Michael was carrying a duffel bag, stuffed full, it looked. Cliff nodded towards it, "You taking a trip to the city?"

Michael shrugged. "For starters, yeah. Spend New Year's partying it up, from there, who knows where I'll go. Maybe spend the rest of the winter somewhere warm."

That didn't make any sense.

"But what about your job? The Winery? I know winter is a slow season, but surely Duke and Manna need your help still. They're letting you take a vacation that long?"

"Vacation?" Michael laughed. "Nah, bud, I quit the winery, like a couple days ago. Small town living is quaint and all, and nice for a little while, but I don't want to be in a little backwater hole like this for the rest of my life, you know." He grinned and nudged Cliff. "I mean, you're leaving too for brighter futures and greener pastures, right?"

Cliff's hands curled into fists. he'd never truly disliked Michael before, but right now he really wanted to hit that flippant, smug, carefree grin right off his face. Just to be certain he wasn't having some vivid hallucination, Cliff asked again. "You quit the winery?"

"Yeah." Michael shrugged. "I was gonna wait til after New Year's but honestly I can't even bear the thought of spending the holiday in this tiny town. I doubt there would even be a party, everyone would probably be in bed by nine." He scoffed. "Probably wouldn't even get a New Year's kiss. None of the girls here are even all that cute, and they're so old fashioned. You basically have to propose before they'll even let you hold hands."

Cliff stared at Michael dumbfounded. His mind raced with possibility. Maybe he could go back to the winery and ask for a job, but Duke had already rejected him once this year, what's to say they still won't want him. But he had to try, right? Worst they could say was 'no' and he would just have to catch the ferry tomorrow. Best case - he couldn't even think of the best case scenario in case he jinxed the whole thing. Anything for a chance. that' what he had promised Claire. He would do any job, try anything if it meant coming back to her sooner.

Cliff snapped out of it as the ferry pulled close to the pier, blowing its whistle to call any stragglers to hurry and catch their ride.

Someone was shouting his name. Michael nudged him. “Hey, isn’t that your girlfriend?”

Cliff turned and saw Claire standing on the steps at the top of the beach. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “CLIFF! WAIT!”

“I thought you dumped her,” Michael said with a dint of disdain. “She was certainly mopey about it when I saw her earlier when I was getting my last paycheck.” He scoffed again. “Kinda pathetic, ain’t she? Just a little too desperate, huh?”

Once again, Cliff was seized with the overwhelming urge to deck Michael. But he didn’t. He got to his feet and turned away from Michael and the docking ferry.

“Hey, where’re you going? The boat’s right here. They won’t wait for you.”

“I don’t care. I’ll catch the next one if I have to.” Cliff didn’t spare Michael another thought or a second glance. He took off running towards Claire. She took off running towards him too. The met in the middle of the beach and crashed into each other, throwing their arms around the other and holding on tight.

“Don’t go!” Claire gasped, taking his face in her cold hands. “Don’t go yet. Please. I-I think I found you a job. At the winery.”

“I know. Michael’s leaving.”

A smile broke out over Claire’s lips as she realized, as they both realized, Cliff might not have to leave. There might be a chance for him to stay in town. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go.

She pulled his face towards hers, drawing him into a fierce kiss. Their lips crashed against teeth, but neither pulled away. Cliff kissed her, letting all of the hope bubble up in his chest and drive him desperately forward. Claire let got of his face and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her held her close, as close as possible. He ignored the fear that maybe Duke and Manna still wouldn’t want him, maybe the winery didn’t really need an extra set of hands. Maybe he was just prolonging the inevitable and he would still have to leave Claire.

He held Claire close and kissed her as snow collected in their hair, and their fingers went numb in the cold, until finally, panting slightly for breath they broke the kiss. Cliff rested his forehead against Claire’s, he looked down at their intertwined hands before closing his eyes. In his heart he made a wish, he said a prayer.

I wish… Maybe… Please…

“I should probably go talk to Duke and Manna, huh?”

#replies #ask box games #story of seasons #becky writes things #friends of mineral town #'i'm gonna try practicing romance' i said and then just wrote angst instead #but with that prompt really what other outcome was there?#might clean this up and put it on ao3

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megalony · 4 years

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Second chances- Part 1

This is a Four/ Billy series from 6 Underground which I fell in love with as soon as I watched it. I hope you all will enjoy it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms

Summary: (Y/n) believes being in the group is her second chance and Billy starts to believe it was his chance too as it brought (Y/n) into his life. But their newest mission is far from easy.

Note: (Y/n) is Two in this imagine.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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"You can be such a piece of shit sometimes." The words passed through (Y/n)'s lips before her mind had a chance to filter what she was going to say or clamp her lips together to calm herself down.

She felt her skin heating up faster than the cool wisps of breeze could cool her prickling skin down from the flickering flames eating her up from the inside out. The tiny splashes of saltwater sprayed against her skin and the scent flooded her nostrils as she turned so her back was facing the other four people on the boat with her.

The dark leaf green bottle of beer started to sway in her left hand from the breeze and the way her fingers started to shake despite the tight grip which she had them clasped around the neck of the bottle. Moving her other hand, (Y/n) raked her fingers through her hair, scratching her nails against her scalp in a coping mechanism that she knew wasn't working, nor had it ever really worked. It had simply become one of her habits that she couldn't shake, less she wanted her anxiety to build up and take over.

"I'm sorry? What would you like me to say?" One quipped, planting his hands on his hips as he ticked his head to the side.

(Y/n) couldn't figure out how he could seem so calm and so sassy right now when they had literally just dumped Six's body over the side of the deck. He seemed to act like this was a game or that it didn't matter but no matter what One said, he couldn't believe the lies he had told himself and the rest of them.

None of them could truly go around thinking they were dead. Their identities had been buried but they were here, they were still standing and that was the truth. Six was dead, he was in a body bag slowly sinking down to the floor of the ocean. That was real death and One didn't comprehend the situation they found themselves in. He wasn't dealing with this like he should, they had just lost one of their own and whether he liked it or not, the rest of them felt like they were a family and that was how it should be.

"You spout all that shit about us being dead but you don't listen to yourself. Six is dead, you have just buried him, the actual him, not his identity. This is life, One or whatever your name is. We are all alive, we are here and we are living and no matter what identity we give or take, this is our lives. Don't talk about him like he's some disposable tissue you just dumped in the trash."

(Y/n) wasn't asking One to change his thoughts or give a eulogy for Six, she was simply asking that he acted like they did just lose one of their own rather than a tissue he had used and disposed of.

If this was the way things went around here, (Y/n) didn't know if she could cope with this. She didn't want to dump people and be frowned upon for crying over them, she didn't want to think of them simply leaving or throwing her body away when she eventually passed away. It wasn't okay to act like this and it wasn't human to try and act like they were actually ghosts roaming the world to try and do some good.

"He knew what he was walking into in this game, we all did. We are ghosts now Two and he already had his funeral. What do you want me to say? He lived a long life, he will be missed, he had a good job-"

"We are five people who decided to boycott the Government and scrap our identities. We are not dead, we are not ghosts, we have deleted our ties to the world so we will remain anonymous. We are still people, One, and I will miss him."

Without thinking, (Y/n) raised her hand before swinging her arm around and letting go of the neck of the bottle. Her eyes not wavering once as she watched the glass shatter into splinters and fragments across the white glimmering floor of the boat.

They had all faked their deaths so that society will delete their information and mark them as not important. They had gotten rid of their social ties and any other tie they had to the world and the people it contained. But they still had hearts that were beating and bones that could be broken. All of them still had the same thoughts and opinions and voices and brains that they did before they came into this game of ghosts and justice.

Six was still a person and even though (Y/n) didn't know anything about Six's personal life or his real name or his life, (Y/n) was going to miss him. She was going to miss his nervous but cheeky personality hanging around and the way he drove them around and did whatever he was asked. She would miss someone she hardly knew because he had become part of this messy, unconventional family that they had created.

No one else spoke.

One was the leader, he had formed this unconventional group of people wanting to change the way the world worked and bring justice and goodwill. He created the rules that they didn't say their real names or get involved or too close to anyone else to prevent any complications or grief or tangled wires. One told them that they couldn't have contact with anyone from their lives after joining this group. They couldn't see family or friends in order to keep them safe and make sure they all remained anonymous in the world.

It didn't matter that everyone else agreed with (Y/n), they weren't going to dispute when it wasn't going to do anything.

"Don't take his shit to heart, you know what he's like." Four leaned against the silver railing near the top of the boat where he found (Y/n). He arched his back and bent one of his knees, lowering his head to look at the waves crashing against the boat before he dared to look at the girl standing next to him.

He knew she didn't know Six very well but he could understand why she felt so angered by One and what he said. Not everyone could get along at the best of times but right now, losing Six couldn't have come at a worser time. They had another big mission coming up and they desperately needed six or more people to be on the job or else it made things a lot harder for all of them. Even with six people, they weren't likely to come out of this very well.

"It's not the send-off that annoys me, you know. I get that we can't bury him and that's fine, it's the way he acts. It makes me wonder if this was all worth it... like, if I get shot down next week, what would I of achieved? How would you get rid of me?"

(Y/n) tilted her head to the right, looking at the blond whose green eyes were rather enticing. She wasn't arguing because they didn't bury Six, she knew they couldn't and she didn't really see how burials were so special or such a big thing. It was the fact that they gave Six absolutely no dignity or respect and just dumped him without saying anything. And when Three shed a tear he was immediately called out for that as if it was so wrong to show any emotion, like they were actually supposed to act dead.

If someone shot (Y/n) tomorrow, she didn't dare think about what would happen. She hadn't achieved all that much in her life and she wondered if she, too would be thrown over the side of this boat in a bag to be lost at the bottom of the sea.

"Not everyone gets to achieve stuff in their lives, if you leave a mark on a place or a person, that's good enough, right? And you're not going to die next week so forget about that."

Four knew that there were millions of people in the world that would die without making an impression on the world or making a dint or doing one good thing that people would remember. Lots of people were born and died without anyone knowing and that was the way of the world. But he knew that there was some sort of comfort in knowing that if he personally had made an impact- a good one- on someone's life, then he could die happy.

(Y/n) had impacted on his life the moment he joined this fucked up group and if she did pass, he certainly wouldn't be able to forget her. She had left her mark on him and he was sure she had on many others and that meant part of her would still live when she died.

"Oh yeah, what makes you so sure?" (Y/n) teased as she rose her brow, looking at Four as he flashed his teeth in a shit-eating grin that sent shivers running down her spine.

"You're not dying on my watch." He simply responded before he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. Both of them knew the rule of not getting too close to anyone else in the group, but they couldn't seem to help it. Four made her feel better, he made her feel safe and relaxed and happy and giddy like she was a teenager again. He spoke his mind in a manner that simply made her laugh.

He was curious and plain and damn good at what he did, and for some reason, he was instantly drawn to her too. He liked how fierce she was and how she couldn't help but speak her mind and speak the truth. He loved how she could handle herself and everyone else at the same time, she took care of herself and still had the ability to look out for the team and cover them or help them out.

But mostly, Four loved the way she looked when she was holding a gun.

"I know One spouts that stuff about not talking about the past and whatever, but tell me why you have this." Four moved his free hand towards her top, his eyes locking with her own as he smirked like a shark when he dipped his hand beneath the fabric.

(Y/n) knew he wasn't copping a feel or trying to be too forward, she knew what he was asking about. Her thoughts were confirmed when his fingers latched around the silver chain hanging from her neck that he always saw her tuck into her bra to keep it hidden. Her eyes followed his hand as he pulled his hand from her cleavage to reveal the slightly rusty golden bullet hanging on the end of the chain.

Sharing stories about their old lives wasn't something One wanted them to do because they had given up those lives. In a sense, (Y/n) could understand his logic, the less they knew about one another, the safer they were so there were no slip-ups and so they didn't fall for anyone or get too close and an accident happen. But on the other hand, they were all on the same side and they were in this together. She didn't mind sharing a story or two with Four because they were close already, talking wasn't going to compromise them any more than they already were.

Late nights and frenzied touches and kisses had been swapped between them for the past few weeks as it was. That didn't compromise them on missions, they weren't overly worried about the other or asking them how they were doing or if they needed backup. They were as professional as everyone else and it worked fine.

"I worked in the CIA, we were on a mission but we got ambushed... that was the bullet that got me. One inch lower, and it would have pierced my heart. That's why I'm here, I got a second chance at life and I want to do something with that chance, that's kind of a good luck charm I guess."

That mission was the last one (Y/n) had ever worked on, after recovering from the surgery to remove the bullet, (Y/n) woke up with One standing in her room offering her a chance. He offered a chance to be someone else and do something really good with her life. It was as if he had known the internal struggles she had been battling when she was conflicted about if she was doing the right thing and if it was making a good impact on the world.

(Y/n) knew she had been extremely lucky with that bullet and she wanted to keep it as a memento. It was a token that she had to remind her during the bad times that she was here for a reason and she wasn't going to waste that.

"My name's Billy."

Four slowly rubbed the bullet between his index finger and thumb as he looked at the piece of metal that was meant to stop her heart from beating. That one piece of metal could have snatched (Y/n) from Four before he even had the chance to have her in his life. It gave her the opportunity to join the group and to meet Four.

He didn't really believe in second chances, and he didn't know if he believed that things happened for a reason or not so he couldn't comment on her story or respond with a touching anecdote of his own. But he could tell her his name which was kind of like a secret around here, and he hoped it would be enough.

"Hmm, it suits you." (Y/n) whispered the words quietly before she leaned up and pressed her lips delicately to his own. She felt him let go of the bullet that swung back against her top before hanging limply against her chest. His hand moved to caress the side of her neck as his other arm pulled her closer until her chest was smothered against his own.

He didn't care why they were both here or what brought them to this point, he was simply glad that she was here with him now.

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"Magnets, that's your big idea?" Five questioned as she planted her hands on her hips with a raised brow. When she joined to be their doctor, she thought that everything would be different than this, she thought it would be other-worldly. That there would be some sort of essence to what they were doing or something that made it feel like she had died and gone to heaven or even hell.

But magnets, that seemed oddly basic. The guns and smoke bombs and the laughing gas they had planned was different. The car chase they had two months ago, that was out of this world and it made her feel more alive than she ever thought possible.

Magnets was a step-down.

"Not just any magnets, big ass magnets. Ones that can cause any piece of metal to fly to one side of the ship and then the other, all on my command." One held up his phone and gave it a little shake in front of them all to show them this wasn't as stupid as it sounded.

He had created this, it was what he did in his other life and it was what he was good at. He could make every single piece of metal on that ship tip to the right with just a swipe of his finger and he could make people stick to the walls if they had one scrap of metal on their body. He could give them passage into the lower decks of the boat and get them right to the president with this device that he could easily control from his phone. This was their golden ticket to get to the guarded president they were here to take down.

"What about our weapons?" Seven asked with a look in his eyes that showed he was intrigued rather than bored like he had looked moments earlier.

"Ever heard of plastic?"

Leaning over the table they were all crowding around, (Y/n) glanced her eyes over the plans and layouts that One had managed to scavenge and come up with. It showed all the levels of the boat, where he wanted the magnets to be placed and where they would need to go once they got to the boat- if they even managed to get this far in the plan.

(Y/n) could slowly feel her heartbeat increasing as she realised the magnitude of the magnets that he had created and what this would mean. They were all in on this mission, they were all needed because even with six of them, their chances at survival and pulling this off were slim. But if magnets of this scale were involved, (Y/n) was going to have a hard time.

"You can control what piece of metal the magnet attracts, though... right?" (Y/n) tried to play it off as if she was simply taking an interest, but the type of question she asked and the tone she used gave away something bigger hidden behind her words.

"Do you see this plan? There's gonna be hundreds of individual pieces of metal on this ship. What are you asking, do you want me to isolate a fork so it stays in place?" One narrowed his eyes as he shook his head in confusion. Why on earth would he need to control what metal went where? It didn't matter, everything would go to one side and they would have no metal on them so they would have the right of way. He could play about with everyone and do what he wanted and toy with them how he pleased.

There were going to be metal plates, forks, spoons, guns, bullets, armour, vests and jewellery on that ship. He couldn't stop a small piece of metal with how much more metal was going to be controlled. Isolating one thing would take too much time which they wouldn't have.

"Can you do it or not?" (Y/n) snapped back as she stared at the man standing across from her with a growing annoyance building up inside of her. She didn't see why he couldn't just drop the sarcasm and be serious for even one second.

"Essentially, but it'll waste too much time and it's relatively pointless. Why?"

"I've got a metal plate on my hip, I can't get through this maze if you're plastering me to the walls." (Y/n) tried to keep some sarcasm in her words but her tone simply came out worried. If One couldn't isolate her metal plate and stop the magnet from attracting her then she wouldn't be able to be on the boat, she would be stuck in the water or on the sidelines and they needed everyone on this mission. She couldn't get through the levels of the boat if she was being thrown about like a ragdoll.

Her heart jumped in her chest when she felt Billy slowly slipping his fingers between the groves of her own, his palm pressing against hers so he could press his fingers firmly against the back of her hand.

Their touch was concealed by the table blocking the action from sight but it still made her feel calmer to have his hand in her own and his side inconspicuously pressed against hers. Neither of them wanted the others to know of whatever was happening between them because they didn't need any torments or sarcastic comments or the others thinking this was going to affect their work.

"Oh, you drama queen... I'll adjust the modifier and isolate your hip, alas do not worry. We can't have you out of action, now can we?" The smallest trace of a smile appeared on One's face as he rolled his eyes. He knew that was going to make his job all that much harder but it didn't matter.

They were really going to do this.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #billy #four #six underground #six underground imagine #ben x reader #second chances #billy x reader

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supergirl-fanfiction · 5 years

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Secrets

Nia Nal x Reader

Requested by @piratesbelongatsea

Hi 👋 Can you write Reader and Nia are dating but R doesn't know that Nia is dreamer. Later R finds out or Nia tells reader (your choice)

Hopefully you like this. It is my first time writing a Nia Nal x Reader and I hope I did this justice.

(Y/N)- Your Name

Warnings- Language

You and Nia had been met each other through Kara. You had thought she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. You were a flustered stuttering mess around her in the beginning. Her smile, her laugh, the way she was so passionate about the things she cared about had made you fall for her so quick you hadn't even realized what had happened until it was too late. She had gained your heart without even trying. What you dint know was that she felt the same way as you but she was scared because she held quite a few secrets. Eventually though you had gained the courage to ask her on a date. You had been extremely nervous and terrified that she was going to reject you. She hadn't though and one date turned into many dates. She felt as though you deserved the truth though or at least part of the truth and so even though she was scared of how you might react she decided to tell you one of the secrets that she held so very close. You could remember that day clearly. She had been so nervous and rambled on about she would understand if you wanted to leave her. You had pulled her close to you and kissed her softly. You couldn't even imagine ever wanting to leave her. After she had pulled away from the kiss she blurted out that she was a trans woman. You had been shocked but at the look of fear in her eyes you had quickly pulled her into another kiss. You loved her and that meant all of her. You told her just as much and she had just stared at you in surprise. She had thought that maybe you would feel betrayed but you had just taken it in stride. How could you not though? She was the most amazing, brave, and strong woman you had ever met and this just made you realize how truly amazing, brave, and strong she was. That had only been a couple of months ago and you had thought the two of you were stronger than ever but lately it seemed like she was always too busy for you now. You had tried setting up dates only for her to end up extremely late or cancel. You were worried that maybe you had said something or done something wrong. You did have a bit of a habit of putting your foot in your mouth and not realizing it. You began to think over everything you had said and done before Nia became distant but you couldn't remember doing or saying anything wrong. You hoped she would eventually come to you and talk about whatever was causing her to be distant so you tried to be patient. You wanted her to come to you when she ready. You didn't want to push her. Eventually though after she ended up skipping date night without calling or texting causing you to become extremely worried you decided to approach her about it. You needed some kind of answers about why she was distant. You woke up early to go over to her apartment hoping to catch her before she disappeared wherever she had been going to lately. Once you made it to her apartment you knocked on the door, surprised and happy that Nia had answered the door.

"Hey Nia. Can we talk please? I'm really worried about you." You said hoping she would let you in. She seemed to debate it for a second before noosing and opening the door more for you. You quickly walked inside her apartment before she could change he mind. You sat down on the couch and tried to organize your thoughts so you wouldn't say the wrong thing.

"Did I do or say something wrong Nia? If I did I am truly sorry and if you explain whatever I said or did I will try my hardest to not repeat my mistake." You said softly your voice cracking. You were trying to keep your emotions under control but it was hard because seeing her in front of you made you truly realize how much you would lose if you lost her.

"What! Of course not (Y/N). What would make you think that babe?" She asked you confusion clear in her voice. You bit your lip trying to contain the tears that wanted to escape from your eyes out of pure relief. You hadn't done or said anything to make her so upset she avoided you. Thank god. Since you weren't the reason that she had become distant than what was though?

"You've just been so distant love. You either cancel our dates or show up extremely late. Then yesterday night you completely skipped the date and didn't call or text me. I was really worried about you. You know you can tell me anything right? You can trust me Nia. No matter what is going on we can get through it together. You have to tell me what's going on first though." You told her. Her jaw dropped open and she tried to say something but nothing came out. You began to worry. What if the reason she had become distant was because she no longer loved you. The thought instantly broke your heart. You loved her with everything you were. Nia on the other hand was debating if she should tell you that she was Dreamer or not. She didn't want you to hate her for keeping such a huge secret from you. Yet, when she had told you about her being a trans woman you hadn't been upset that she had hid it from you. You were just happy she felt safe enough and trusted you enough to reveal that part of herself to you.

"Do you not love me anymore? Is that why you are distant?" She heard you ask with a watery voice. She felt the panic enter her body. Is that what you thought? She couldn't stop herself from blurting out,

"I'm Dreamer and I have been fighting crime with Supergirl. I dint want to tell you because I was scared of how you would react and that if anyone found out you knew they would use you against me and if you were ever hurt because of me (Y/N) I would never forgive myself." She had said all of that so quickly you had barely managed to catch it. Once her words registered with you a look of shock overcame your face. Your girlfriend was Dreamer. The new badass superhero of National City.

"I'm dating Dreamer." You whispered in awe "HOLY SHIT! My girlfriend is Dreamer. Babe you're a badass." You told her excitedly as you looked at her. It was her turn to be overcome with shock. You weren't upset, in fact you actually seemed in awe and excited about the fact that she was Dreamer. Once she had overcome her shock a soft smile appeared on her lips. She should have known you would react like this. You had always been the most supportive and understanding person she had ever had in her life. She leaned towards you and kissed you slowly. neither one of you pulled away until your lungs were burning and begging for air. You smiled at her and placed a kiss on her forehead. You're girlfriend was not only one of the strongest women you had ever met but now, well now she was a certified badass. You really had scored the jackpot with her.

"I love you." You had whispered your love for her coating your voice as you leaned in for another kiss. While you had so many questions for your girlfriend you decided that they could wait until later. For now you were just going to enjoy the feeling of her lips on yours.

A/N- I am being a huge procrastinator right now and am doing anything and everything I can to avoid my school work right now lol so if you have a prompt idea you would like done relatively soon send it in and it will more than likely be posted by the end of tonight.

#nia nal x reader #dreamer x reader #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #fluff #nicole maines

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ohhsstylo · 5 years

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Disgusting Days (pt. 1) [Murdoc Niccals Drabble]

Hey, here’s a (long) drabble about Murdoc’s childhood. And it’s going to be lowkey interactive!

I’m gonna post follow up’s to this with a Good End and a Bad End! Aksjajs please go easy on me, it’s my first time writing Gorillaz stuff-

TW: (mentions of) child abuse

It was a disgusting day.

The morning sky was overcast, and the lazy sun seeped through the clouds and right onto Murdoc’s face, like an accusatory spotlight. The grass was damp from a storm that had passed in the night, like the face of someone who had long since stopped crying, and it was that nauseating temperature where you felt too hot wearing a coat, but too cold without one.

Murdoc slipped into the playground, swift and silent as a ghost. He had barely been on the pavement a second before the harsh slam of a car door behind him made him wince, and the wind whipped his clothes as his father’s car sped away down the decrepit street.

Murdoc’s heart felt like it was wrapped up in chains as he slunk across the playground towards his classroom. His hands hid deep in his pockets, fiddling with the holes in the fabric, while his shoulders hugged his ears. He kept his head down, barely lifting his eyes high enough to see where he was going.

He didn’t want the world to see him. He didn’t want to see the world. Not like this. Not with the tear stains on his cheeks and the giant purple bruise covering his eye.

Murdoc often arrived at and left school with scratches and bruises and bumps. But he’d never looked this bad. Well, he’d never been outside looking this bad, anyway.

He’d attempted to hide it, but nothing worked. The make-up his father used on him before those disgraceful performances was locked away, and god knows what would happen if he was caught trying to take it. And Murdoc’s hair simply wasn’t long enough to cover the unsightly bruise.

That didn’t stop him from trying though. He’d hurt his head earlier that morning trying to force his fringe to reach his cheek. He’d ended up reluctantly leaving it pulled down in an awkward triangle, covering his eye but leaving a distinctive purple ring sticking out from underneath it.

But anything was better than nothing, he thought.

As he crossed the dinted tarmac, the sickening white sky felt like it was suffocating him. When he reached his classroom, no one was stood outside of it, and it felt like it was the first time he had gotten to breathe that morning. He leaned his hunched shoulder against the cold brick wall, hiding himself in the shadows, wishing he could just blend in with them and disappear. Murdoc squeezed his eyes shut, trying to avoid the tears pricking the corners of them, only to wince at the sudden pain, making it even harder.

It was then that he felt a presence in front of him. He felt his throat grow tight as he pried open his damp eyes.

Stood in front of him, hands locked to his hips, was Tony Chopper, a intimidating lump of a boy, with two cronies stood either side of him, considerably smaller and less meaty than him. The three of them moved in on Murdoc like a flock of hungry vultures, and they caged him against the wall from all sides. Their eyes looked glassy and their teeth seemed abnormally sharp through their twisted smiles.

“Oi, faceache.” Tony spat. “Why’s your eye purple, eh?” Murdoc didn’t reply. His gaze stayed glued to the ground, as Tony moved closer, grumbling in his face. “You were ugly enough, you dint ‘ave to go and make it worse.”

Tony and the boys stood at his sides began to laugh, and Murdoc’s fists started to tense at the spiteful sound. He could just about see their faces out of the corner of his eye, and that alone made a pit of pure fire start to stoke in his stomach.

“Maybe it’s just eyeshadow.” Said the boy to his left. The boy to his right made a noise in agreement.

“Yeah. Maybe Murdoc wears make-up.”

Murdoc could feel the fire making it’s way up his chest and into his throat, as Tony opened his mouth again, feigning a realisation.

“Ohhh,” he began. “No, I know.” He placed a grubby hand on Murdoc’s forehead, yanking him back by the hair and exposing his busted eye. “Ohhh, did your daddy hit you again, faceache?” Murdoc gritted his teeth. “Little twat like you. No wonder he hurts you. I’d hate having you for a kid, too.” Murdoc could feel the fire in his fists now... he felt it behind his eyes, pure hate framed by the unsightly bruise. “You’re obviously a bad son. He’d have no reason otherwise. You obviously deserve it.”

Murdoc couldn’t contain the fire anymore. It was burning him alive, it had been for years, and like fuck he was gonna let these bullies avoid it any longer.

He lunged at Tony, tackling him to the ground. He scratched and kicked and hit, sending the other two boys running for a teacher.

“You twat! He has no fucking reason! I’ve done nothing! I’ve done nothing to him! Or you! You’re always a prick to me! What’s your reason? What’s anyone’s reason?! What did I do?!” His tears turned to steam on his burning face, the pain all over his body only adding fuel to the flames. “Tell me! Tell me you prick!”

By this time a crowd had gathered, but they were quickly cut through by a teacher, frantically being led by Tony’s accomplices.

“What’s going on? What happened?” She stammered. When all she saw was Tony on the floor being yelled at and pummelled by Murdoc, she had all she needed to make an assumption. She grabbed a kicking and screaming Murdoc by the underarms and dragged him off Tony, who began dramatically gasping for air.

“He attacked me, miss!” Tony exclaimed, clutching his chest.

“He did, miss! He did!”

“We seen it!”

“Fucked if I did!” Murdoc yelled, only able to see red. The teacher had put him down on the ground by now, but she had a grip on his arm, which she promptly tightened.

“Murdoc Niccals, watch that disgusting language!”

“I think he should be expelled, miss!” Tony uttered, standing up with an exaggerated wobble.

“We’ll be the ones who decide things like that.” She said firmly, before yanking Murdoc’s arm again to pull him to attention. “Although, this will definitely have consequences. We have no choice but to contact your father.”

And then, the red haze in Murdoc’s eyes faded to grey. His world began to spin. Tony, and all of the other kids began to whisper and giggle.

“N-no, miss, please don’t- miss, I promise I’ll have detentions for a month- 2 months- just, don’t tell him-“

“Sorry, Murdoc. I have no choice.”

She stared at him. He stared at her, his eyes deep and filled with 50 different emotions. His swollen, purple eye seemed even more prominent now, and the teacher sniffed. This kid must get in a lot of fights the school didn’t know about.

If only his father would do something about that.

Murdoc’s mouth tasted like blood as he was dragged to the headteacher’s office.

Murdoc held a cold hand to his face, over the area many bruises had sat before. The mouth of the bottle in his hand pressed hard against his lips as the bitter liquid slid down his throat. He pulled the bottle away with a sigh, and hunched over where he was on the edge of his bed.

His own personal painkiller.

“Why that memory?” Murdoc asked himself. “Why that? Why now?”

Murdoc didn’t know what to think. Were the new tears in his eyes from anger, sorrow, fear..? Was the alcohol warping everything? Nothing seemed real and he couldn’t quite decide if that was good or bad.

It was a disgusting day. It was a disgusting life.

The only thing that broke his twisted train of thought was a sudden soft knocking on his door.

“Murdoc?” Came a familiar, nasally voice. “What ya doin?”

“Go away, 2D!” He yelled, his throat scratchy and strained.

But in spite of everything, Murdoc heard his door creak open, and the familiar voice sounded louder.

“Murdoc, are yew cryin..?”

Fuck, was he being that loud..?

#Murdoc Niccals #Gorillaz Drabble #Gorillaz fic #Gorillaz Writing #Murdoc's dad #Sebastian Niccals #platonic #2d gorillaz #Gorillaz #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw alcohol #tw swearing #ohhsstylo writes #ohhsstylo #2d and Murdoc are friends

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fapangel · 6 years

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So you finally watched The Last Jedi. Thoughts?

It is worse than I could have possibly imagined.Sit down and buckle up, because this one’s a doozy. (Spoilersabound.)

AsI’ve previously detailed, it was clear the movie was a trainwreckeven before I watched it due to simple structural issues with thebasic plot, much of it inherited from The Force Awakens (which I didsee.) To wit, the movie is a sequel to the original trilogy, butcompletely ignores everything that happenedin the original trilogy. Having seen The Last Jedi, it’s nowblatantly clear thatthe new trilogy was intended as a reboot - but that’s impossible todo when it’s shamelessly mining the OT for characters, concepts, andinformation. I’m not talking about the shameless density of nostalgiareferences and even aped plots in The Force Awakens, either - I’mtalking about The Last Jedi considered in a vacuum. (Just one exampleis Leia’s use of force power to pull herself back into her ship,which makes no sense without the original trilogy context.) Giventhe high praise some of my friends had paid the show, I’d been opento the possibility of it having merit as a movie, ifnot as a Star Wars sequel, butits inability toescape the structural/sequel critique presaged its complete and utterfailures in writing.

Thisis a point I must make explicit: TheLast Jedi is such a horribly written movie that it transcends merefailure; it is actively harmful and offensive, “problematic” inthe sense that the much-maligned “SJWs” use the term. Thisis the unassailable core of the offense that The Last Jedi (“TLJ”)offers. Much of what I’m about to bitch about, especially anythingto do with pre-established Star Wars canon, could have been glossedover, or even forgiven, if the core storytelling was solid enough. Ifit looks flashy and cool, adheres to rules that the audience knowsfrom prior films, oreven rules the film itself laid down earlier, anyaction sequence or detail of spaceships and tech can be made to work.Star Wars is classic Space Opera centered on Space Wizards; youcan get away with a lotifyou’re making one big concession to enable the plot and not justjerking the audience around every five minutes. But TLJ not only doesthat, it also has no story worth making concessions to enable. Theinescapably lethal flaw of TLJ is that none of the characters areworth a damn, and their arcs simply do not work.

That’sit. Without that, you have no story, period. Withthat,any number of flaws, errors, and plot holes might be forgiven, if thecore story is strong enough. Even if the core story isn’tstrongenough, one could at least acknowledge that the movie wasn’t a totaldisaster, it was just dragged down by too many errors, a death of athousand cuts. TLJ manages to have allof the ancillary problems, andno character story at all to make it worth a flying fuck.

Thiswon’t be a comprehensive dismantling of TLJ, as there’s more thanenough out there - I suggest seeing MauLer’sreviews, either the 30 minute “Unbridled Rage” or thethree-part,multi-hourtakedown for a truly exhaustive treatment. This is mostly Planefag’sPerspective (becuase people like it when I say the funny fuqq wordsapparently,) an explanation to my writer friends (which they’ll findinteresting, as it’s rare for our opinions on works of fiction todiverge so strongly), and presentation of what seems to be aheretofore unmade argument - that TLJ is morally reprehensible bydint of the biases, prejudices and twisted ideas it perpetuates.

Yes,it is that fuckingbad. ButI’m saving the best for last. In order of magnitude, why TLJ is apile of steaming, utter shit:

NOT ONE SINGLEFUCKING CHARACTER ARC WORKS AT ALL.

Thisis the core, unforgivable failing - the complete absence of anyfucking story. This isespecially notable with Rey and Kylo, the lead characters of themovie around which everything else revolves. WhenRey and Kylo first spoke to each other across lightyears, I stood upand shouted “THE FORCEIS NOT A FUCKING SKYPE CALL!” Iwould’ve forgiven the Space Wizard liberties had the interactionsworked, but my wrathproved sadly prescient, as Kylo and Rey’s every interactionthereafter seemed like two teenagers awkwardly flirting over Skype…except they had far lesschemistry than that. As I write this, I find it difficult to evenrecall what they fucking talked about- the first time was Kylo surprised it was happening and Rey callinghim an evil murdering prick (for good reason,) the second time sherang him up when he had his shirt off and he told her to “let go ofthe past, kill it if you must,” and the third time she told him shesensed conflict in him, they touched hands through The Force, and she“saw his future” through this, because Rey Is Very Good At TheForce.

Onthe basis of these three interactions, Reygoes from Kylo Ren’s sworn enemy to moist and thirsty for histhrobbing red lightsaber. I shit you fucking negative. Uponthese three brief conversations,the central character story of the entire movie rides- and they come nowhere close topulling it off. There’s so many reasons for this that it’s hard tosummarize them. Rey’s shown to be pining for her family again(despite having moved past this in her character arc in The ForceAwakens, but Rian Johnson can’t keep shit consistent in his ownmovie, much less thesame fucking trilogy.) She’s angry at Kylo for killing his father,Han, whom she was adopting as a father figure herself (their firstchat takes place after Luke asks after Han and Rey accuses Kylo ofit, so this is expressly brought forward into TLJ.) So when Kylo ripsinto Rey over her parents; pointing out that they were white trashthat sold her into servitude for drinking money and never cared abouther, before telling her to kill her past, he’sonly reminding her that he had something she never did and alwayswanted (a loving family,) and that he fucking murdered saidfamily. There’s no wayRey could empathize with Kylo over this.

Butwe’re supposed to ignore this, and believe that Rey now feels someempathy for Kylo because she 1. saw him with his shirt off and 2.touched his hand and Sensed The Good In Him Through The Force.

Whata load of complete and utter fucking horseshit.

Thereare other arcs, and they all fall flat on their fucking faces aswell. For starters, Luke.Luke’s arc, especially, cannotbe insulated from continuity criticisms because he’s the mainfucking character of the Original Trilogy, andTLJ leans heavily onthat lineage for its setup. The climax of Luke’s character arc wasachieving the seemingly impossible - redeeminghis father, Darth Vader, who had fallen to evil decades ago andcommitted untold numbers of atrocities. Andin TLJ, Luke actually contemplates CHOPPINGHIS OWN NEPHEW’S FUCKING HEAD OFF becausehe “sees darkness in him.” The man who’s crowning, definingachievement was redeeming his Father from the dark side isconsidering NEPOTICIDEbecause the kid mightfall.

Evenif you ignore that, why Luke’sinsists that“the Jedi should end” is never explained, as he never says itoutright and never finishes a single lesson with Rey which issupposed to teach her why.Why does he extrapolate hisfailure to mean the entire galaxy isbetter off without them? His interactions with Rey accomplishnothing; he basically tells her to fuck off for a while, decides to“teach her,” promptly tells her she’s supor haxx0rz powerful likeKylo, watches her master lightsaber-ing because she knows how toswing a metal quarterstaff, and is then told by Yoda himself thatthere’s nothing in the ancient Jedi tomes Rey needs, because she’s sofucking special she knows it all already. Yoda fucking torchesthe ancient temple-tree-library to make his point that Luke’s always“staring at the horizon instead of at what’s in front of him” andthat he needs to focus on the here and now; implicitly saying thatRey was right, and he shouldhump his ass out there to “face down the First Order with a lasersword”…

…but instead of doing that, he literally phonesit in from half a galaxy away with The Force, puttinghimself in (almost) no danger, but fucking dies anyways,meaning he died as he lived; agrouchy old coward who never did face down his own apprentice andanswer for his mistakes. Luke’sarc makes no fucking sense, achievesnothing, and goes fucking nowhere.

Finnand Rose was portrayed as a budding relationship, except there wasn’ta single fucking hint of it being romantic till she kissed him at theend of the show after a pat speech about “saving what we love.”In the beginning of the movieshe tazes Finn (yes, the black man got tazed) for trying to skip townin an escape pod, which she found personally offensive because hersister had just died in the opening battle to defend The Resistance.At the end of the movie, Finn is willing to sacrifice his life todefend that same Resistance, his character having actually grown -and Rose rams him off-course before he can do so, despitehaving tazed him earlier in the movie for dishonoring hersister’s sacrifice to defend the exact same cause. Atbest, this means shewas only truly concerned with her personal loss, which would make hera self-centered, selfish cunt, willing to sacrifice the lives of manyothers (and potentially the freedom of the entire Galaxy) for her ownemotional needs. But it’s not portrayed as a selfish decision - it’sportrayed as the right one,which taps into an entire larger problem of its own I’ll touch onlater. It’s the same problemthat’s entirely responsible for crippling Poe’s character arc. Finnand Rose were simply dealt the coup de grace by it, as theirpreceding scenes together were sparse; involving them coming up witha plan to save the rebel fleet (seconds after Rose had tazed him,bro, and had no reason to do a 180 and start trusting him without anexplanation that he never did give,) a monologue about how shitRose’s life was and How Capitalism Is Bad on the casino planet, and abrief “well we’re fucked and by extension THE ENTIRE GALAXY but westuck it to the man, how cool,” and Rose has a moment where shesets an animal free and says that was superior to making baddieshurt, setting up her closing line later.

Andthat’s it. That’s fucking it. Comparethis to Princess Leia in the original trilogy. Her response to aStormtrooper walking into her cell - someone who she has every reasonto assume is there to take her to a torture session (as she wasclearly shown being tortured some minutes earlier in the movie,) isto comment wryly on his height. Andseconds after breaking out of the jail cell, she’s shouting orders atpeople, spraying the air with energy from a stolen blaster rifle, andin fact leading themout of the immediate danger (“Someone’s got to get us out ofhere!”) And during this entire sequence herrepartee and rivalry with Han Solo is already being established, the“excuse me Princess” cranked to the max. The friction that beginstheir relationship is Han butting heads with her before witnessingthat she’s dangerous,composed, and competent in emergency and combat situations. Notonly is their relationship developed during actionsequences of real consequence, as well as down-time chats, but italso takes three entire moviesto build to a climax. Comparedto that writing, Rey jumping on Kylo’s dick after three Skype callsand Rose giving one rusty fuckabout Finn are egregiously bad.If you criticize the OT andthink TLJ is superior, you have a lot toanswer for, right there.

However,Finn himself had potential - if only because his character was theleast tampered with, so one could assume his character developmentfrom TFA was intact, and TLJ’s script hinted gently in support of itand never against it. He started TFA just wanting to run like abitch, and by the end had come to care, at least, about defendingRey. He was trying to hare off after Rey in the beginning of TLJ, andby the end had committed fully to a cause, the opposite cause of theone he’d abandoned at the opening of TFA. It’snever really covered why hegrows like this - at the very beginning he goes from wanting to legit to forming a plan with Rose to save the fleet instantly. He wastalking his way out of being shoved in the brig at the time, but henever takes a subsequent option to duck out; in the space of a fewseconds he’s committed himself to a dangerous recon mission that willend with infiltrating an enemy capital ship withapparently no qualms whatsoever. If this was ever covered indialogue, it was so brief I completely missed it - and this isprobably why his arc “worked” the best; it wasn’t the focus, so Ididn’t care much about how it happened… plus, by the end, Finn isthe only halfway relatable character at all, beating Rose by alandslide because we have awhole movie of development for him (TFA) as opposed to one briefboo-hoo monologue from Rose (oh and her sister died boohoo.) He’s nota fucking Mary Sue like Rey, he’s not entirely certain about his rolein things, and so at the end, when he makes the decision tosuicide-run the Very Big Gun, there’s actually some investment andaudience-character empathy there. Finn,alone, is the only character we can empathizewith.

Andthen fucking Rose putson a stellar display of Asian Driving Skills and robshim of his moment,because-

EVERYBODY WITHA PENIS IN THIS MOVIE IS ALWAYS WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING ALWAYS,BECAUSE FUCK MEN

Thisis not an exaggeration. In my priorcomments I mentioned that just because everyone saidthis was the case didn’t mean Ibelieved it, because I’ve seen the CHUDs hurl the same complaints atobjectively excellent movies (the latest Mad Max, forinstance,) and that’s before theGamer/pol/Gate crowd made counter-bitching at the SJW bitching apastimefor casual amusement. I wasexpecting some token casting, some throwaway GRRL POWER lines, etc.

Instead,I got the most misandrist movie I have ever seen.

It’snot just a matter ofwriting every male character to be stupid and every female characterto be smart - the laws of probability themselves bendover backwards to make everything a woman does the right choice, andeverything a man does the wrong one… except even when the Universedoesn’t do that, theman gets his ass chewed out anyways for making the rightcall.

Butthat came later. My first exposure to the misandry came in the formof Admiral Holdo, a purple-haired, ballgown-clad fleet Admiral wholooked like she walked out of Tumblr SJW Central Casting. But despiteThe Internet having named this character as egregiously bad manytimes, nothing, nothing prepared me for the actualperformance.

LauraDern deliberately portrays Holdo as a venomous, imperiousbully.

Onehas to actually see the performance to appreciate howdeliberate and well-done it is. Laura Dern crosses her arms, doesn’tface the person she’s addressing, literally looks down her nose whenshe does, and even does that particular kind of sneer whereone bites their lower lip and looks at someone like they’re dogshit.Laura Dern’s delivery perfectly matches the scripted lines - sheresponds to a straightforward request for information from Daemon Poeby insulting him, then attacking him- “My plan? Like yourplan which destroyed all our bombers?” She then proceeds to attackhis manhood, calling him a stupid little gung-ho flyboy, and advisinghim to “stick to his post and follow my orders” with the exactsneering tone of someone saying “sit down and be a good littleboy.” The soft-spoken volume of the delivery just drives it home -it’s the “oh, honey” condescending shitpost meme made manifestand played entirely straight.

Theworst part of this performance is that Hold is supposed tobe an Admiral, a military officer. Poe eve drops a line about herbeing the hero of such and such battle to establish that she’ssupposedly respected and famous - and then she proceeds to shredthat impression by acting like anything but a militaryofficer. Captain Janeway on Star Trek: Voyager wasn’t verynice - in fact, she could be an outright rude asshole - but shealways sounded like a Captain when Kate Mulgrew delivered herlines. She didn’t deliberately humiliate or insult people by saying“sit down like a good little boy;” she’d say “I’m the Captain,get the fuck off my bridge before I brig your ass forinsubordination.” That’s how the military works; there is achain of command, and those who challenge it are reminded thatthey’re pissing on God’s leg, and God does not fuck around. Todeliberately portray Holdo as literal stereotype of a “nastywoman” suggests that Rian Johnson actually thinks this is what a“strong woman” should look like. And in fact, Laura Dern saidthis explicitly:

Speaking about her character’sstylish-yet-firm leadership, Dern told VanityFair: “[Rian is] saying something that’s been atrue challenge in feminism. Are we going to lead and be who we are aswomen in our femininity? Or are we going to dress up in a boy’sclothes to do the boy’s job? I think we’re waking up to what wewant feminism to look like.”

So apparently CaptainJaneway wasn’t a real woman, because women simply can’t beauthoritative and direct, and if they are, they’re just playing asthose toxic men. From the director’s point of view, a “strongwoman” is a viscous, venomous bully who replies to peoplerequesting information by insulting, mocking, humiliating andsneering at them instead of firmly asserting their lawful authorityand citing their own reputation for competence.

Rian Johnson bothdirected and wrote the movie, so in this one scene, everythinghe believes is coming out - the epitome of an entire plot ruledby the iron fist of misandrist horseshit. The scene itself isan example. The movie opens with the Resistance evacuating a planetas the First Order fleet (led by a massive dreadnought with an“autocannon”) closes in. Poe Dameron, the aforementioned “flyboy”attacks and destroys the dreadnought, against Leia’s orders, just asit is explicitly shown to be locking its Big Scary Gun ontoLeia’s command cruiser (there’s even a cut to Leia’s face toemphasize the point.) There’s nothing to suggest that Leia’s cruiserwould’ve gone to lightspeed before then if not for Poe’s attack;despite him landing in a hurry, we know X-Wings arehyperspace-capable themselves (within this movie, in fact, as we’reshown an X-Wing underwater on Luke’s island; presumably his ridethere,) and as a Captain and, apparently, the Resistance’s fieldcommander, Poe would know the rally point the Resistance isevacuating to.

The movie itselfshows that Poe saved the command cruiser, and with it, the entirecommand staff of the Resistance - and for this he is first demoted byLeia for disobeying orders, and then viciously insulted by Holdo whenhe simply asks her for information. When the First Order follow theResistance through hyperspace with some newly-invented trackingdevice, Kylo Ren and his fellow Spess Fighters zoom in and blow upthe cruiser’s launch bay with torpedo-like missiles… and are thenimmediately ordered to retreat because the capital ships “can’tcover them that far away.” This makes absolutely no fuckingsense, as in the battle scene immediately prior, Poe attackedthe dreadnought to take out its “surface cannons” to clear theway for the Resistance’s bomber ships to attack, and the captain ofsaid ship explicitly says that those guns can’t hit fightersand that they should have their own fighters out there - “fiveminutes ago,” no less, as if lampshading the plot convenientincompetence makes it okay. And since two torpedo-like missilesutterly destroy the command cruiser’s launch bay, you can surmise theFirst Order doesn’t require huge, plodding, and stupidly vulnerable“bombers” as the Resistance used to take out the dreadnought.Said dreadnought didn’t have any visible shield protection during thefirst battle; (especially obvious because we’re later shown capitalship fire hitting the shielding of the command cruiser with verydistinctive special effects,) and in fact the command cruiserexplicitly “focuses its shields aft” to fend off thepursuers capital-class weaponry, just to create the opening for Kyloto nuke the hangar bay (and blast Leia into space as well.) Thereis absolutely no fucking reason the First Order fighter-bomberscouldn’t have finished off the command cruiser right then and there,but we’re simply shown Kylo’swingmen being shot down (by what, we never see,) as he’s told “theycan’t cover him out there” as an excuse. The movieviolates its own rules just to take away Poe’s X-Wing and put Holdoin charge.

Andthis is just the fucking beginningof the Universe itselfbending over backwards to invalidate everythinganyone with a penisdoes. Poe is the one that authorizes Finn and Rose’s sidequest tofind a “master codebreaker” at the Gold Saucer (to sneak on thebad guy’s ship to disable their tracker so the fleet can escape,) buttheir plan fails because Fuck Anyone With A Penis. But that’s not theoffensive part. Earlier, Poe sees Holdo’s fueling the transports, andangrily points out that said transports will be sitting ducks for theenemy’s guns. He asks Holdo againfor a plan, and shefeeds him some fucking bullshit non-answer about “hope being aspark that lights a fire.” With the entireResistance Fleet nowdown to one cruiser (outof three starting ships), Poe intelligently determines that Holdo isfucking useless and stages a mutiny so he can see his own planthrough. Holdo defeats her captors by not getting shot the moment shetwitches and winning a point-blank firefight with much younger combattroops because fuck you. Nowback in command, she sees off Leia (just awake after her impromptuspace-walk) and on thetransports, Leia tells Poe that “Holdo knows the First Order won’tbe scanning for small ships like this.”

Yes.That’s the explanation. Poe Dameron - the fleet’s combat commanderand fighter pilot, someone who’s fucking job isto understand the capabilities of the ships in their fleet - didn’tknow this, but Admiral Holdo did because she has a vagina andtherefore is perfect. They’re boarding the transports to “slipaway” to another planet - visiblethrough the fucking window - andyet the First Order - WHOWATCHED THESE PEOPLE EVACUATE THE LAST PLANET ON THESE TRANSPORTS -“won’t know to lookfor small ships like these.”

Butwait - it gets worse. Finn and Rose’s mission failed, not becausethey were simply caught by security or because they were attemptingsomething that Ben Kenobi, an experienced Jedi knight had to give hislife to accomplish in Ep. 4 whenthe enemy was letting them go, butbecause a traitor betrayed them, who also, conveniently, tells thefirst order about the transports, so they’re revealed by a“decloaking scan” (which implies the transports have cloakingdevices; i.e. an inherent designed ability of the vessels, not just asmaller sensor signature inherent to their size, ergo something POEDEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE KNOWN ABOUT.) TheFirst Order starts blasting transports out of the sky, and of coursethis is all Poe’s fault.

Andthen there’s the Robbing of Finn. Admiral Holdo kamikazes the commandcruiser into the First Order fleet with the hyperdrive (itself afucking massive, retarded plot hole to end all plot holes), thussacrificing herself to Save The Resistance. And yet when Finnattempts to do THE EXACT SAME FUCKING THING not20 minutes later in the movie; a kamikaze self-sacrifice to save theentire Resistance, Rose rams into him to stop because “we shouldsave what we love instead of destroy what we hate.” This line isdelivered as the Big Gun blows up the base’s doors, thus sealing theResistance’s Fate… but wait! They all escape through a back doorbecause Rey shows up just in time to use her never-trained,never-practiced Force powers to clear a rockslide for them. Rose hadno way of knowing this would happen; meaning her ramming of Finn was,as far as she knew, condemning everyoneto death and her andFinn, at best, tocapture and execution by the First Order. But as usual, the Plotitself bends over backwards to make her choice the correct one, andFinns the wrong one.

Shortlyafter this, Poe “completes his character arc” by acting on whatLeia told him (“you have to run not fight sometimes”) andparroting that fucking arrogant bully bitch Holdo’s fortune-cookieAesop about sparks lighting fires, finally acknowledging the WisdomOf The Females, despite everychoice he made in this movie beingthe objectively correct ones, given the knowledge that he as acharacter possessed.

Andwe haven’t even talked about Rey yet.

Ohmy fucking god, Rey.

Reyis the biggest fucking Mary Sue I have ever seen. This,like every other blunt statement in this piece, is not anexaggeration, as much as it saddens me. Rey can fail at nothingshe attempts. Rey has towork for absolutely nothing she gains. Rey has as much raw power asKylo, at least (by Luke’s own judgment,)and she is moreskilled than he is at lightsaber fighting as evidenced by her savingKylo afew times during the throne room fight. This,despite having notraining in the weapon(which has no mass and can lop off her limbs easily, unlike the metalquarterstaff she’s experienced with) compared to Kylo, who trainedunder Luke himself foryears before moving on to whoever the fuck Snoke was supposed to be.Rey can just touch Kylo’shand and “see his future” isn’t all dark, when the much moreexperienced Luke did the same and only saw darkness. Rey can temptKylo to betray his master and move towards the light after threefucking awkward Skype calls. WhenLuke ignored his master and left in the middle of his training torescue his friends, he got his fucking ass kicked, his handcut off, and his lightsaber lost. WhenRey does the exact same thing, SHE BEATS LUKE MOTHERFUCKINGSKYWALKER IN A MELEE FIGHT, FLIES OFF INTO SPACE, AND SUCCEEDS ATTURNING EDGELORD MCSITHBOI AT LEAST HALFWAY AND SAVES THE ENTIRERESISTANCE BY LEVITATING A WHOLE FUCKING ROCKSLIDE WITH NO TRAINING,WHEN LUKE, WHO WAS ACTIVELY BEING TRAINED, STRUGGLED TO MERELY STACKONE ROCK ON ANOTHER AND COULDN’T HOIST AN X-WING THAT WEIGHED LESSTHAN THAT WHOLE ROCKSLIDE PUT TOGETHER.

Reyis a stupid boring nothing, who’s emotions and struggles I can’t finda single fuck to give about because she’s never in any realdanger, never has to work for anything she gets, and never developsas a person at all. I didn’t criticize her character arc because shenot only lacks one, she’s arguably not even a character at all -there’s seemingly no limit to her abilities, no flaws or pitfalls forher character, since everything she does turns out to be the rightcall (sound familiar?) and only the barest suggestion of whatpersonal goals she seeks (and those aren’t sold one fucking bit bythe story development.) For all effects and purposes Rey is a walkingavatar of the Plot itself, or as Rian seems to call it, The Force.

FuckRey and the bantha she rode in on.

THE PLOT IS THE MOSTNONSENSICAL, LAZY PILE OF FUCKING SHIT EVER PUT TO PAPER BY MORTALMAN

Muchof the plot’s problems originate from what I described above; thevery rules of the universe bending over backwards to serve RianJohnson’s twisted misandrist worldview. But they don’t stop there,by a fucking long shot.

Muchhate has been thrown at those “bombers” in the movie’s opening,but as I said before, TLJ cannot stand on its own even in relationto itself. Ignoring all of pre-existing Star Wars canon, eventhings belonging to the “new movies” like Rogue One, within TLJitself, fighter-bombers are shown delivering grievous damage to acapital ship when Kylo’s wingmen blow the shit out of Leia’s bridge,using torpedo-like missiles that can strike at a distance, launchedfrom fast, maneuverable craft. Said cruiser’s bridge was explicitlyunshielded at the time, since its shields were “focused aft” tofend off turbolaser fire - something that’s shown with distinctivespecial effects that were totally absent when Poe was blasting lasercannons off the First Order Dreadnought in the beginning (ergo, itwas unshielded for some reason.) So the movie itself has shownthat unshielded targets can get the shit blown out of them byfighter-bombers firing torpedoes and that the dreadnaught wasunshielded.

Ionly mention this because it really pissed me off personally, andbecause it showcases Rian Johnson’s dogshit sense of drama andaesthetics, as he had a hardon for “WWII bombers” and apparentlythought it’d make for a better, tenser combat scene than Y-Wingsweaving and dodging through AA fire and enemy fighters like VT-8making their courageous, doomed run at the Kido Butai atMidway. The actual plot itself doesn’t have “holes,” asthat implies an otherwise cohesive structure with missing bits. Theplot is 90% holes and 10% substance, a sieve trying to hold meaning.

Theentire movie’s plot is set up by a “low speed chase,” theResistance fleet fleeing from the First Order’s fleet at sublightvelocities, because the First Order is using a “hyperspace tracker”that’ll allow them to chase the Resistance at FTL anyways. TheResistance’s cruisers are faster, which allows them to pull out oflethal range of their enemies, but - as a First Order officer says -“they’re faster and lighter but they can’t get away from us.”

Thismakes no fucking sense. If they’re faster - even by a smidgen -they’re faster. If they can pull out of laser cannon range tostart with, they can keep pulling out of range. They mightsimply maintain range once clear, to save fuel (because ships needfuel and they’re low, of course - something never, ever mentionedbefore in any Star Wars film ever,) but this makes no sense when youconsider that the objective of Admiral Holdo (which she won’t tell tofucking anyone) is to reach a planet with an old Rebel base with atransmitter powerful enough to “contact our allies in the Outer Rimand call for help.” In which case it’d make sense to haul ass forsaid planet, so they have some time to call for help and wait for itsarrival without the First Order launching a ground assault almost assoon as they land, right?

Butwait! Rey delivers herself to the First Order’s flagship via zippingin from Hyperspace with the Millennium Falcon, very close - beggingthe question of why the First Order (apparently not low on fuel)can’t use Hyperspace themselves to zip ahead of the Resistance fleet(even if they’ve got to bounce to a neighboring system due tominimum-range reasons) and cut them off, or just do a direct jump tocatch up. Worse, Finn and Rey take a hyperspace-capable shuttle toCasino World to execute their convoluted plan, which begs thequestion - why didn’t Holdo order an engineering team onto theshuttle and send it ahead to the old Rebel base? HOW MANY FUCKINGPEOPLE DOES IT TAKE TO WARM UP A REACTOR, BLOW THE DUST OFF A CONSOLEAND PLACE A FUCKING COLLECT CALL?

Thesecomplete failures of intellect - yes, even the infinitely stupidhyperspace kamikaze thing - all have one thing in common: they orientaround plans and facts that aren’t revealed to us till the lastminute, so we won’t notice these problems. It’s also because RianJohnson only cared about “subverting expectations” and provingthat his super special women were so clever and right all along, sohe clearly pulled plot elements out of his ass as he deemed themconvenient.

Ifyou’re one of my Twitter followers who usually tunes in for my vagueranting about defense-related matters, some necessary context isneeded: I’ve written literally thousands of pages worth of “quest”fiction; where I write anywhere from a few paragraphs to a few pagesof fiction, then have my audience vote on what the main characterdoes next - and the content itself is anime fanfiction. And Iam dead serious when I say that, at my worst, when Iwas pulling shit out of my ass on the spot, writing almost inreal-time and posting updates without stopping to proofread or editat all, I never did anything this fucking lazy. At myworst - writing that was so awful I wouldn’t wipe Assad’sass with it - I put more effort into my plot and consistency thanRian Johnson did with his titanic budget and multi-billion dollarstewardship of a beloved brand and franchise.

Andthat’s why I don’t find the hyperspace kamikaze moment offensive onits own merits. It’s horrific, yes - it invalidates space combat inthe entire setting, as well as begging questions specific to themovie (why didn’t Holdo use it outright, for instance?) but thesearen’t any worse than the numerous other stupidities that belabor theplot. What makes the hyperspace thing stand out to me is the attemptto excuse it - two throwaway exchanges. A First Order bridgeofficer notes that Holdo’s cruiser is spinning up its FTL drive, andthe commander dismisses it as an attempted diversion to lead themaway from the transports they’re potting like ducks. This isapparently the excuse for why Holdo didn’t do it earlier - she neededa distraction to allow time to turn. Nevermind that the other twoships with them - that ran out of fuel and were destroyed, afterevacuating their crew to the command cruiser - could’ve providedthis option hours earlier. The two lines make it clear that RianJohnson was aware of this plot hole, and he tries to paper it overwith two brief dialogue lines, as if that’ll excuse everything.

Theentire fucking movie is riddled with lines like this; barebreaths that have to carry the entire movie’s fucking plot setup. Reymentions to Luke that the First Order will “control all the majorsystems within weeks” at the beginning. The Order officer’s singleline that explains the Low Speed Chase the entire movie revolvesaround. Leia’s offhand mention of the old base with the Transmitterof Sufficient Power to reach Their Allies In The Outer Rim. Etc. TLCis demonstrably lacking “downtime” as a movie - think Luke, Hanand Leia chatting in the base on Hoth (“laugh it up, furball,”)the briefing in Episode 4 laying out the Death Star attack, etc.Fiction writing calls it pacing, and scriptwriting calls this “storybeats;” you need the right tempo of fast and slow to properly pacea movie. TLJ never slows down long enough to fucking explainitself, compared to the earlier movies - and the OT didn’t domuch of that to begin with! But it did more than enough to ground theentire story in a larger framework of what the situation was, andwhy the character’s actions mattered. We don’t get that in TLJ.Even the fucking opening scroll narration is inferior in termsof information density. It’s almost like there isn’t a plotworth a damn, just whatever horseshit excuse Rian Johnson squeezesout of his anus next, and if the movie stops cramming glossy CGI andaction figure product placement down your throat for five fuckingseconds, you’ll probably catch on.

Thekorn kernel atop this turd sundae was the ending - with the entirefucking Resistance reduced to maybe a dozen or so personnel - andnone of the command staff, save Leia - on board the MillenniumFalcon, which is only a light freighter, capacity-wise. The “outerrim allies” never show, so this is the entirety of the Resistanceforces. They have no combat fleet, no combat personnel, nobases, no resources, no guns, no ammo, no snub fighters, nothing buta single light freighter and their own limp dicks.

Butthe end of the movie shows them flying around handing out secretResistance rings to force-sensitive kids, as if cereal-box decoderrings are enough to overthrow a vast evil galactic empire. Your AR-15can’t stop a government with tanks and fighter planes, but RianJohnson expects us to believe that the ability to levitate rocks andplace intergalactic Skype calls without paying ComStar can overthrowSpace Nazis.

RianJohnson couldn’t write his way out of a Naruto fan forum.

THIS MOVIE IS AMORALLY REPREHENSIBLE SHITPILE THAT NORMALIZES LIES ABOUT ABUSIVEBEHAVIOR BY MALES TOWARDS FEMALES IN ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS

That’sright. I said it.

Thismovie is actively harmful and insulting to women and girls.

Theblatant misandry is bad enough, but the messages it teaches girls areeven worse, the chief one being the normalization of Kylo Ren,the mass-murderer and fratricide “bad boy,” as someone who’s“good, deep down,” If Only The Right Woman Could Cure Him. Thisis a misguided fantasy that dates back to Wuthering Heights, and wasrecently resurrected by Twilight, the fantasy of “saving” a manwho’s violent, misogynistic and cruel. Fantasies aren’t realistic bydefinition, and they all feature in fiction because they’ve an appealto a certain audience - what makes them good or bad is the damagethey do to readers in real life who don’t discern the differencebetween fiction and reality until their misunderstanding leads theminto serious harm. The classic “beauty and the beast” theme of“taming” a “bad boy” stands chief among the offenders inthis category - but don’t ask me, just sample what countless others have written on the topic. Rey going from angry, grief-stricken accusations ofKylo the Fratricide to longing for his lightsaber after three briefskype calls, a look at his Rock Hard Abs and touching his hand once?It’s textbook Beauty And The Beast bullshit, and apoorly-written example, at that.

Thisis in addition to Rian’s explicit view that - as elucidated byHoldo’s own actress - a venomous, sneering bully is what aStrong Female Leader looks like; reinforcedby how the plot bends over backwards to portray Holdo as a hero. Inretrospect, the liberties taken to put Leia into a coma for most ofthe movie was probably done because Carrie Fisher just couldn’t actthe role of a bullying bitch, and that’s the character Rian Johnsonwanted to showcase as a feminist icon. Again, quoting Holdo’sactress, “[Rian is] saying something that’s been atrue challenge in feminism. Are we going to lead and be who we are aswomen in our femininity? Or are we going to dress up in a boy’sclothes to do the boy’s job?” The message here isn’t that girlscan be hot-shot fighter pilots or gunslinging heroes too - it’s thatmales are toxic, testosterone-driven fools and Real Women are “womenin their femininity.” Not “youcan be anything you want to be” but “feminimity is good andmasculinity is smelly dumb mansplaining scum.” Thisis fucked in the head, andI challenge anyone- especiallythose who recommended I watch this movie - to deny the charge Ijust leveled.

Andfinally, there’s the actions of Rian Johnson himself, the misandristfuckhead who wrote this pile of shit. He was building off the workand script of JJ Abrams, including all the character development that went into it - and now we can see what he decided to do with it.Rian didn’t just fail to make a movie - he actively threw away anopportunity to write a script with realprogressivesensibilities, substituted cheap “subversions” instead, and thenjerked off on Twitter about how fucking woke and progressive he is toget all the fawning accolades anyways.

RIAN JOHNSONPISSED AWAY THE MUCH BETTER STORY SET UP BY JJ ABRAMS IN THE FORCEAWAKENS, AND STILL HAS THE FUCKING GALL TO ACT LIKE HE DIDN’T

I’vebeen told - in various articles and in person - that TLJ achievesbrilliant subversion of expectations and fights against tired oldtropes that reinforce social status norms by bucking the Chosen Onewith Significant Bloodlines thing, most notably with Rey’s parentagerevealed to be of no consequence and Kylo’s focus on “killing thepast” and rejecting moral binaries to forge his own path.

So,on that note, let’s talk about Finn.

Finnwas a brilliant character in concept, the kind I often try to write -a common man, a faceless member of the rank-and-file who finds thecourage to step out of line, think for himself, and eventuallybecomes a hero in his own right. The opening of TFA, with the bloodyhandprint on Finn’s helmet serving to identify him and give a “faceto the faceless,” was a brilliant bit of visual storytelling, andFinn himself has a difficult and dangerous journey as a character.He’s limited in his abilities - he can’t pilot a ship, for instance -and for the longest time his only desire is to run as far away fromthe First Order as he possibly can, to live his own life in peace. Bythe end of TFA, he’s grievously wounded fighting an opponent he knowsdamn well outmatches him, all to defend the life of his new - andonly - friend, Rey. Goinginto TLJ, Finn is poised both as Rey’s most probable love interestand as a walkingrefutation of the Chosen Heroes trope; having gone from randomfaceless goon to the man who was responsible for destroying the DeathST- I mean Starkiller Base. Heknew the way into and out ofsaid base because he used to be on the sanitation detail, aquirk that makes perfect sense andemphasizes how the “little people” in inglamorousjobs often know cruciallittle details like that (like the back door the smokers use.)

Andwhat did Rian Johnson do with this setup?

Finnwakes up and is immediately used for comic relief, smacking his headon the medical scanner, then staggering around in a bacta suitleaking fluid everywhere. Thenhe tries to hare off after Rey, only to get tazed for trying to steala vehicle. Then he’squickly shuffled off to the side with Rose while Rey is suddenly, andwith very poor setup and justification, set up with Kylo and hisneon-white abs as her love interest.

Is now a goodtime to remind you that Finn is black? Yes,the black man gets 1. played for comic relief, 2. don’t tazeme bro, 3. shuffled offscreen while Rey is set up with a white boy toavoid any possibility of an interracial romance. Andall that’s in additiontoFinn’s noble sacrifice being portrayed as bad and wrong, while MightyWhitey Kami-Kaze Holdo is made out as a huge hero for the exactsame act.

Comparewhat Rian Johnson did with what he couldhave done, and thentry to tell me thismovie had any redeemingthemes, arcs, or execution. I fucking dareyou.

AVALON HAS FUCKINGFALLEN

TheLast Jedi is a towering monument to the rot at the heart of ourartistic society. The Force Awakens was a shameless regurgitationdesigned by a soulless corporation to bilk our nostalgic childhoodmemories for every penny we were worth, but at least it had acompetent writer/director at the helm that had some pride in hiswork. By contrast, The Last Jedi had that same greedy, scum-suckingcorporate machine at the helm and a writer-director thatepitomizes the creature that now infests Hollywood: an arrogant, self-congratulatory prick concerned onlywith vigorously stroking off his fellow wealthy cultural elites, sothey may take smug satisfaction in their moral superiority over theproles. Therecent spate ofself-described “male feminists” who’vebeen revealed to use their professed politics as cover to prey onwomen illustrate the forces at work here - if one utters theApproved Doctrine, everything else can be overlooked and forgiven.Portray Women as Good, Men as Bad and with a few cheap shots atCapitalism in the middle, and you can get away with not writing aplot at all, lazy and poorly-storyboarded CGI scenes that pushmerchandise, and even reducing a black man to comedic relief. This iswhat our corporate-run entertainment industry now rewards - to thetune of tens of millions of dollars - and what countlessleft-wing culture-war publications vigorously and viciously defendwith endless column inches of simpering praise and even asinineconspiracy theories about the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy “gaming”Rotten Tomatoes user review scores to cover up how much audienceshated this fucking trash.

Asa writer, I happen to believe that Art means something. It matters.It nourishes the soul and teaches us lessons about why to liveour lives, not just how. Mankind has been telling stories forthousands of years before anyone figured out how to write them down,much less make a profit off them. As a species we are wired to thinknarratively, which is why stories have power - never a righteouskingdom nor a vile dictatorship has existed that didn’t invest greateffort in fashioning myths and legends to justify and strengthen itslegitimacy with the people. Stories can help, and they can even harm.

Storiesare serious fucking business. And Rian Johnson’s betrayal anddesecration of his art and craft is emblematic of what the very, verybig, wealthy and powerful entertainment business thinks isacceptable. The business of multimillionare serial rapists that arealso major political donors, the business of complicit yes-men actorsthat routinely use their fame, wealth, and cultural influence to tipthe scales of our national political debate - that business.

Ifyou’re like me; if you dream of telling stories that matter,stories that change peoples lives and give them hope as other’sstories have done for you - prepare for dark times ahead. It’s clearnow that Avalon has fallen; that the existing establishment is toothoroughly corrupted to serve society any useful purpose. We’ll haveto use the internet, vanity presses and small websites - as long asAmazon, Google, and the other West-coast headquartered monopoliesallow us them, that is - and do the best we can. Whatever Hollywoodin particular and the entertainment industry in general is puttingout anymore, it sure as hell isn’t art, in any sense ofthe word you might imagine. The real artists will have to starve,scrape, beg, and struggle - but what they make will be worthwatching, instead of an affront to common sense and common decency.Call them Rebels, or perhaps the Resistance - just don’t callthem surprising, because I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO.

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helloamhere · 5 years

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2,9and 12?

I answered (or lol failed to answer) 2 in an earlier one - what’s a series or franchise you secretly or not so secretly think you’d be, like, a REALLY good writers for if they’d stop being cowards and hire you already? ohhhhhhhohoho a thing about me is that I am such a systems-oriented Slytherin of a person in my work life, that this is a hard question to answer because my feeling is less that I’m innately good at specific things and more that I could goddamn MAKE myself good for anything dint of paying a lot of attention and working hard and of course some circumstantial good luck. But I think if I had to pick something that feels very aligned with my strengths, there’s not one obvious franchise but the whole general world of streaming services that are taking a chance on really independent and more indie teams of creators. Like maybe this is funny considering my novel ambitions are entirely adult, but I think I’d be bomb on some of the creative, new, progressive kids’ shows that are out there having a blast and being sociologically informed. Maybe another dream would be to write for something like Star Wars, haha, I think I’d meld my social science, character-driven, hero-obsession into something fun there, because Star Wars is ultimately incredibly concerned with sociology and anthropology as much as it is any other kind of science fantasy and I love hero narratives too!what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it? mmmm I am picky about criticism but not because I don’t want it. It’s more the opposite: I only need to hear something once, you know? I take things very to heart and I take them very seriously so I only really take constructive criticism from people that I trust–and not just trust on a personal level but trust to be able to have a dialogue with my creative process and story thoughts. Like for instance with fic I think so far I’ve only ever shared fic to ask for criticism with two people on here (love you both!!!!). And I’m even more protective with my original fiction, not because I am against feedback (I crave it! Give it to me!) but because when you aren’t settled in what you’re doing, false feedback can swing you so far away from where you should actually be. I think of it like if you were a rocket ship, in the early stages you have so many degrees of freedom that a tiny nudge in the wrong direction can entirely alter your trajectory. So I don’t seek it out until it’s appropriate for it to come to me.Honestly, I really think this is huge, I’ve said this before: when you’re an underrepresented person in the world and you deal with anxiety and being very hard on yourself, I think a lot of the “tough love” approach in fiction circles is outright damaging. It’s not what I need to hear, and it’s rare that some rando in a writing group is actually going to give me feedback that I learn from, no offense. It’s much more likely that they’re only going to emotionally damage me. So I’m very protective about feedback and I know when in the process I want it, and I want to pick from whom. The thing is that you need someone who actually knows your goals, spends enough time to figure out what you’re doing, has the context and expertise necessary to provide useful information about those goals that you don’t already know, AND has an emotional relationship with you that’s healthy. I mean, wow. No wonder people prize critique partners who fit those criteria! I am always looking for them and would treasure them with my life, but yeah! It’s complicated!

#writing meme #ask #writing thoughts!

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tellytantra · 5 years

Quote

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); Sejal asks Vanita why she ended the dinner. Shubham says he still had to eat food worth Rs. 5 more. Vanita asks Rakesh, Nirmala ji and Preeti about Sameer and Naina but no one has any clue about them. Vanita plays her responsibility card. I am the secretary after all. Everyone is here except them! Gopal says they must have gone home. Vanita denies. I checked at home but it is locked. They went outside. Rakesh questions her how she is so sure. Vanita says guard saw them leaving. Everyone asks her what she wants. She insists that everyone should know the truth. Maan reasons that everyone is free to do as they please. Vanita says I don’t have a problem with that. I only want to know the truth. Rakesh says one must trust people some day. You cannot doubt everyone all the time! Vanita asks him to prove it to her tonight to win her trust. They step outside to find Sameer and Naina. Gopal coughs because of cigarette’s smell. Jatin hides next to a random guy sleeping there. Aditya shoos his friends away. Voiceover – Sameer:Vanita marched with her parade. The scene was filmy. Hero and heroine were crazy in love but there were people who were chasing us all around! No one knew what this charade was all about yet we all had to save ourselves one way or the other! We lovebirds were simply clueless about what was going on around us! Time will tell what will happen to us. The society members see Naina and Sameer together. They have parted from their hug sometime back but everyone looks down at them. Vanita gets a chance to taunt them yet again. Everyone else also taunts Rakesh for not raising his daughter well. Naina starts crying. She starts arguing with Sameer. Why did you come after me? The harder I try to hide my pain, the more you trouble me! What should I say now? Jatin tells her to speak clearly. Pain reduces when you share it with others. Vanita corrects that truth should be shared. She asks Naina to tell them the truth. Naina says even I missed my husband when I saw everyone with their spouses. Vanita points out that she was enjoying inside but Naina denies. I was trying to hide my pain inside. Haven’t you heard of the song – Tum Itna Jo Muskura Rahe ho? Sameer takes the cue. She called Ameer to tell him that she was missing him. Do you know what he said in reply? Naina says he told me to forget him. Rakesh also starts acting. I wont spare him! He hugs her while doing drama. Nirmala ji whispers that they are sending Sameer to acting classes in vain. Naina and Rakesh are enough to teach him acting. Preeti tells her to be quiet. Vanita asks Naina why she had to come to this secluded place. Sameer points at the medicines on the floor. It is Rakesh’s medicines! Rakesh plays along. How did they come here? Sameer says they are your sleeping pills. Rakesh nods. Naina says I thought I will be able to live without Ameer but I don’t want to live. Preeti holds her. I am with you. Don’t say such things. Shivani takes their side too. Even the guard turns emotional. Gopal asks him why he came here. Guard lies that he was on secret (cigarette) mission. Jatin tells him to focus on Naina. Sejal also feels bad that Naina’s husband divorced her over a call. We are with you! Naina says I wanted my husband by my side. What will I do with you guys? Sameer says this is the reason why I chased her till here. Naina cries again. You should have let me die. I wouldn’t have been embarrassed in front of so many people otherwise! Gopal’s wife comforts her. We are with you. Gopal seconds his wife. He is unhappy with Vanita for doubting everyone. Nirmala ji, Jatin also support Naina. Gopal tells Naina it is a sin to commit suicide. You should have thought of your father before taking such a step! Naina apologizes to Rakesh. I will never think of something like this again. Please forgive me. Jatin advises her to talk to them before thinking of any such thing. We are like one big family. Preeti says everyone is with you in this hour of need. Rakesh, Naina and Sameer look at each other stealthily. At home, Sameer tells Naina it was good that she could handle the situation today or we would have been thrown outside. Naina says I was scared too. Rakesh is irked with another lie adding up in their list. End this book of lies! He pens it down in his book. Remember this lie well. Naina tells Sameer not to pay heed to Papa’s words. Sameer says he is right. It seems like a burden. It is difficult to live a life where everyone doubts you. She reminds him that they lied to their entire family earlier for their love. We dint feel bad back then. We are determined! He says it was a different thing back then. People look down on us here. She says we will face it together. We have to make sure no one gets hurt because of our lie. I don’t think we will have to lie again because of what happened. They smile sweetly at each other. Voiceover – Naina:We smiled in relief after so many days. We had a hope to fulfil our dreams. We thought no one could break it but you know how life is! We had a roof on our heads that day but tomorrow? Next morning, Sameer hugs Naina from behind while she is cooking. She asks him why he is so happy. He says I am taking such a big step in life for the first time. It is my first day for acting class. I need sweet. She feeds him sweetened curd. Put your heart into it. He replies that his heart is right here. Rakesh reminds him that they have to go today only. They are surprised to find out that Rakesh will be accompanying Sameer to his class. Sameer is reluctant but Rakesh wants to see how they will utilise the money. Sameer insists he is not a kid but Rakesh reminds him that he is one for him. Voiceover – Naina:Relationships change over time. Sameer and Papa used to fight since long but their fights had changed over time. Precap: Sameer is asked to become upfront if he has to learn acting. Rakesh closes his eyes seeing Sameer dance closely with a girl. Update Credit to: Pooja

http://cattybilli.blogspot.com/2019/06/yeh-un-dinon-ki-baat-hai-10th-june-2019.html

#SEO #Local SEO training Yeh Un Dinon Ki Baat Hai 10th June 2019 Written Episode Update http://cattyb

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ilygsd · 6 years

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200918: 1

someone fuck me in the asshole honestly im shocked how can this dude NOT UNDERSTAND??? hes really good at cognitive empathy, he has a nice moral compass he follows ”be kind, be nice” but he cant fucking FEEL what hes doing

and like....... thats important to me??? and apaprebtly NO ONE has ever criticized him for it or whatever? like his ”intentions”?? ofc he cant help he doesnt feel emotional empathy but he literally cant spot the DIFFERENCE!!! he’s like ”as long as im kind and a nice human being” like bitch NOO!!!! i like you!!! you ”like” me, but you like me bc u think im interesting and you think we can learn from each other. which also is important OF COURSE!! but BITCH I LIKE YOU BC I FEEL FOR YOU THATS DIFFERENT

we’ve known each other for like 3 weeks, met 5 times and we’ve already had 3 major fights??? mainly over text/phone but still.... he’s so fycking mean? he really tries to manipulate me that ugly fucking whore!!! he guilt trips me all the fuxking time i cant say anything he’ll explode and i need to apologize or some shit otherwisw it would never end. and i know what the fuck he’s doing because i used to be the exact same. honestly we are similar in many aspecrs EXCEPT for the ”feel”-part. i feel TOO MUCH. and the difference is that im not manipulating him.... because i KNOW i cant. i know he’d see right through me, there’s no POINT

like i used to be like that too, maybe i still am. i ALWAYS win fights, no mercy. its like i turn off my empathy during fights but AT LEAST i feel AFTERWARDS!!! he doesnt. he realize he did wrong bc of his ”morality”. bitch i could CRY, because he literally scolded me over phone when i was on the bus and there was NOTHING i could do to stop him. i tried to talk to him but he only continues cus i fkn refuse to oBEY HIS ORDERS??? but i cant hang up either cus then he’d never talk to me again and i’d feel like shit......

he’s pretty calm irl, ive never seen him angry irl and i hope i never will holy SHIT!!! he’s so good at hurting, like he turns everything youve ever said to him against you. he’s so fucking good at it cus he’s so god damn good at reading people. thats what makes him so charming. i DONT UNDERSTAND how can his precious girlfriends not have CARED??? apparently i’m the first to criticize him and one of the few to trigger him and im like..... bruh how?? i literally dont say anything and you fucking explode?? are your family and friends blind??? are you doing this to me because you THINK the manipulation will work??

also...... he sees it as something positive that sick bastard. hes like ”well i think this could be good” and im like ”uhhhh bitch it is I who get scolded???” and hems like ”but i feel and too :((” he’s such a fkn dumbass. this is his politics too. he believes in reverse racism and is probably sexist too smhhh. i was like ”are u dumb, u hit me in the face and tell me its bad for you too bc u feel vad abt hitting me??”

i am impressed by how he chose to ve ”kind” or whatever instead of psycho even though i still think he’s selfish and does it for his own gain aka he LOVES to learn things, experience things. he’s very ambitious, energetic and curious. but he doesnt understand. he’s like ”well im kind to you thats all that matters?”

the thing is, he’s not even kind??? he basically forced me to taste his disgusting vanilla coffee OTHERWISE he would take the blanket away??? he sees it as teasing and it kind of is yeah..... if i didnt know that his 1000% serious?? he honestly think its a ducking compromose?? im lile ”uhh a improvisera would be for me to taste a little coffee and then you to give me another blanket or AT LEAST stop nagging”

and when i finally tasted the ugly coffee he wanted to know if i thought it was good and i said ”yeah its ok” bc im not a liar, it was better than expected. and hes like ”thats all i wanted to hear” I KNOW BITCH, YOURE NOT THAT FUCKING SLICK ITS PRETTY FKN OBVIOUS

also he always adds rules??? everythings always on his conditions? also he kinda thinks i should be thankful for him not being an asshole??? or maybe its that i actually VRITICIZE his intentions. yeah i think that brothers him. i think he thinks it entertaining because he doesnt care when he get angry. i didnt use to either. i could just forget te fight and move on, it wasnt important to me. but fuck now when i KNOW what its like......

im like ”ur threatening me to drink coffee” and hes like ”arent u happy i put extra much vanilla for you?? i usually drink much stronger but i didnt for u? arent u happy i gave u the blanket? i actually was goong to put it on the couch and leave u cold but i didnt?” BUT HE ONLY PUT ECTRA VANILLA SO I WPULD TELL HIM IT TASTES GOOD SO HIS EGO CAN BE BOOSTED

calso he kinda forced me to drink alohol?? i was like ”im feeling like shit if i throw up its tour fault and you will have to clean up” and he’s like ”no you’ll have to clean up” BITCH I SONT EVEN WANT TO DRINK YOURE PUSHING ME

soooo many red flags fuck i really SHOULD leave now when i can and now when im not too emotionally invested. but oMG IM SO CURIOUS!!! we’re so similar yet so different!!! we can relate to each other in some ways the bad thing is that since he actually cant FEEL empathy, he doesnt BELEIVE me even when i tell him the truth. im not sad bc i want to manipulate him. im not even sad that his words are huetful even though they are, because i know he’s fucking weong. im sad because he treats me lile this. im sad because i like HIM!!! i genuinely LIKE HIM!! but he doesnt fucking understand?? he doesnt understand the difference between LIKING someone and LIKING to HANG OUT with someone. i like him because i like HIM I FEEL HIM, he only likes to hang out with me.

he talks about this as ”his way” and ”bot traditional” way of feeling. his version and definition of ”love” and ”affvtion” is so fucking weird??? we were cuddling and he said ”wow u make me feel more” LMAO BULLSHIT. I CALL FUCKING BULLSHIT YOU ONLY SAY THAT CUS U THINK THATS WHAT I WANT TO HEAR

im partly okay with him being low empathy, he cant help it and i actually genuinely believe he believes he’s doing the RIGHT thing. like he believes it so much and... i guess he is?? like what choice does he have? he cant fucking feel, the least he can do is be kind anyways. he cant help that its not genuine and i guess i’ll have to accept that, but i al NOT GOING TO FALL FOR THOSE CHEAP TRICKS. i didnt say anything but i bet he would even understand if i pointed it out. he’d be like ”but its true!! i feel more with you” no bitch, you only say/think that because you WANT to be with me and now when you know thats what i want to hear thats what you say. smhhh

also i remember in the beginning when i kinda confessed and he was like ”it takes time for me to like someone” and in like???? uhhh okay? and i was anxious abt it cus i really didnt understand what the fuck we were and he just kept ”it takes time for me to like someone” to i was like ”okay but its not like im super super deeply in love with you or anything?? like.... i can like people??” BUT NOW I FUCKING UNDERSTAND HE LITERALLY MEANS BASIC ASS EMPATHY. IT TAKES TIME FOR HIM TO FEEL BASIC ASS EMPATHY FOR OTHER PEOPLE

i just dint understand how the fuck he’s able to still have a family and friends and stuff. how..... how can no one care??? i said ”theyre being manipulated” and hes like ”no i just dont think they care. they just like that im kind and dont think much abt it” but both youre not kind??? but when i tell im its not genuine he goes with the ”well we’re all egoists anyqays, we’re all doing things for ourselves, ur egoist too” yeah but i can still FEEL

i dont wanna be a dick. maybe its just me?? maybe its just because i feel so much and thats why i really NEED that genuine feeling?? no, i know why...... fuCK ME!!! i CARE because i like him 😔😔 bc i think hes so smart and interesring and i see him as someone potential and thats why i keep test him like this 😔 and its for no use because i cant change who he is 😔😔 would i care about these things with some other guy??? no. because i sont care abt them, but i care abt him and thats why 😔😔

hes not even guilt tripping me for it (wow ”yay” ) he just doesnt understand. he doesnt understand the difference or why i find it important. he just sees it as ”him being different” and ”him feeling in another way”. thats not it. this is not normal. this is because of childhood trauma and im so fucking sad for you, no offense, youre doing tour best but thats so sad

well anyways, even if i were to accept his WEIRD ASS DEFINITION OF LOVE he STILL needs to fucking stop with his abuse??????!!!! out of the 3 fights he has told me 2 times he’s going to ”try” but bitch WE KNOW HE WONT. HE CANT! HE CANT BECAUSE HE CANT FEEL WHEN ITS ENOUGH. IF HE FELT EMPATHY HE WOULD KNOW WHEN TO STOP. BUT HE CANT. im just waiting for him to explode someday. i literally asked him ”what should i do next time” and he’s like ”idk, i cant tell you what to do”. omg its true. theres nothing i can do, he’d still be so pissed at me no matter what. and me just asking him is such a BIG RED FLAG like we ALL KNOW.... or not him. he’s like ”maybe we wont fight” LMAO HAHAH YEA BITCH NICE TRY BUT WE WILL BC U START IT

hes so fucking sensitive. we had a misunderstanding, he started to scold me, i got mad and he kept gaslighting ”no i didnt scold you” and when i called him out on gaslighhting..... oh boy...... he got SO FUCKING MA, accuses ME of gaslighting him?? accuses me of ”starting” it with my ”passie aggressiveness” ok maybe i was passive aggressive but i WOULDNT IF HE DIDNT SCOLD ME ABOUT IT. i cant ever criticize him because he goes bananas. ok maybe im not the best to criticize others, im very....... bold. BUT I KNOW IM RIGHT??

last time he got angry because i said ”ppl listen to you bc ur a white man” and he started to bring up his childhood, told me im insensitive, theeatened me to hang up, never talk to me again if i didnt ”respect” him aka ”obey” him, he guilt truppen me, told me no one would want to me with me blah blah blah

a part of me is happy u dont really fall for that bullshit. like yes if course im HURT!!! but as i said, im not really hurt because he really is trying to hurt me. he really WANTS to hurt me. he even takes pride in it?? ”im very good at making people feel very good, and im very good at making people feel very bad” it makes me so FRUSTRATED BECAUSE I LIKE HIM I WANT HIM TO SEE AND UNDERSTAND SO HE CAN GROW, THAT IS EMPATHY PEOPLE, THAT IS GENUINE LOVE

we’re so different. we use completely different tactics. when i used to manipulate my ex.... i NEVER did personal attacks like he does. i never used smth personal AGAINST them.... i was more about.... guilt tripping? more about ”u dont love me, pity me”. im not saying thats good, i was horrible but what he does is just MEAN. i dont understand how anyone can keep up with that kind of behavior. i even told him when we fought and he responded ”well i need to keep up with u”. he always does that and that actually hurts because i like him. and he knows that. he always says ”ive been sitting here, listening to you, been kind to you and....” etc. etc

WHYYYYYY am i the only one criticizing him?? WHY is he like this to me? is it because i see through his ugly acting?? is it even possible for us to ever be healthy together? we can learn from each other, no doubt. but is it healthy???

when i tell him i feel bad bc of horrible manipulative and emotional abusive things ive done he understand but hes like...... ”thats ok dont be so hard on yourself, just learn, everyone makes mistakes” but like no?? THIS IS NOT OKAY!!! he also keeps saying i’ll become like him and like ”stop caring” bc ”we cared too much before” but NO I DONT WANT TO BECOME LIKE YOU!! I ADMIRE YOUR THINKING SKILLS AND ID LIKE TO LEARN SOME OF THAT BC WERE POLAR OPPOSITES YOU THINK, I FEEL. YOU CANT FEEL, I CANT THINK AND HANDLE MY FEELINGS

i dont WANT to. thats the difference. im not satisfiera!!! i told him i dont want to apologize to my ex best friend (who i treated like shit) until it feels GENUINE and hes like ”pfft... its better than nothing. she wont know if its genuine anyways” and im like bitch.... i WANT to be genuine because i think she would appreciate it more and I would feel better about it and hes like ”oh so its cus u wanna feel good about it” OH MY GOD HES SO ANNOYING

i really should pack mt bags and run. why did i have to fall for him UGHHHHH. why do i let him treat me like this when i’d never let ANYONE else do it. its so weird, im very picku with guys. i dont fall for ANYONE. i ALWAYS pick nice and kind guys so why him? i thought he was nice, yeah fair enough, but i still like him even though he isnt? i dont think its me being awfullt desperate, i really wouldnt let anyone be like this. like BOY HE BEKIEVES IN FUXKING REVERSE RACISM DO YALL THINK I WOULD HANG IUT WITH SOMEONE LIKE THAT??? or maybe i am desperate. yes i am. im desperate for the connection i feel. thats kinda sad. i feel a strong bond to/with him, i feel like we’ve been through some things and i still look up to him and how he has recovered. he gives me hope that i can also be happy one day. I DONT WANT TO BE LIKE HIM but i still want to learn from him. and i sont think i will ve like him because im not a sociopath. i just want to take the good stuff and then become better

omg i really am similar to him. im really here feeling superior. i do feel superior because i can feel. i feel superior and a part of me wants to use him. hes a real challenge. i dont think i can maniplate him, it would be amazing to have him feel something for me...... IH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH A FUCKING MESS. NO THIS IS NOT IT. I DO LIKE HIM IM NOT LIKE HIM. IM NOT THAT FUCKED UP

i get really annoyed when he claims im similar that i also want to control and manipulate and im like NO BITCH WERE SIMILAR BUT NOT HERE, like not when im trying to be calm and grown up and have us silver things, not when im crying because he huet my feelings but................ maybe hes right. or maybe hes just manipulating me??? maybe its both. ofc its both. i WAS HURT, i actually HAD anxiety!!!! if that bastard could feel, he would have known it was GENUIKE. AND HE WOULD HAVE KNOWN IM TRYING TO BE CALM AND AN ASULR BECAUSE HE SURE AS HELL FUXKING ISNT AND I ACTUALLY LIKE YOU BITCH I WANT TO SOLVE THIS FOR MY OWN SAKW TOO SO I CAN BE WITH YOU WITHOUT FEELING LIKE A CHEAP WHORE WITH NO SELF RESPECT.... BUT YES OF COURSE I WANTED HIM TO FEEL FOR ME TOO. IT DISTURBS ME SO MUCH THAR I DONT HAVE AN EFFECT ON HIM HEA LIKE A STONE AND OFC IF ANYONE SAW US FIGGT I’D LOOK LIKE THE CALM ONE. hes wrong though bc i used to think like that too with my ex bff. i used to think damn shes only like that so she can feel superior to be and humiliate me but no. she was right. she was more mature than me and she did what she had to do AND THATS WHAT IM DOIKG TO SO FUCK YOU

only way for me to manipulate him would be sexually. he’s that pathetic. a fucking horny dick, thats what he is. but it wouldnt even be manipulation because honestly if hes that fucking horny then its his choice. its not like i’d ever r*pe him, i dont even wanna have sex with him that guy has some HIGH STANDARDS i feel like a virgin next to him but since im not he would also expect more smh. i dont even dare to kiss him back. im only used to virgins so they dont have any experience lmao but... fuck i cant this time

he’s so cockt though for real. he brags about this and that all the time which is kind of his charm..... if it wasnt for the fact that hes always so competitive and serious LMAO. like it would really hurt his ego if i questioned him. imagine me telling him his sex, kisses, brain/psychology or smth was bad. i swear to god he would want to scold me and call me some real nasty things but he probably wouldnt

#diary #jo

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