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ugly-anastasia · 3 years

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The Last 10 Years | Oneshot

Note: for the October Jekyll and Hyde task (write a one-shot featuring your character as first the protagonist and then the antagonist) I had an idea to try and tell Annie and Charlie’s story in the style of the musical The Last Five Years, since that is kind of the goal of that show’s storytelling style. Basically the premise is the same story told from two different perspectives, one in chronological order and the other in reverse-chronological order. Just wanted to clarify that in case the format is confusing. Enjoy!

Warnings for: alcohol, references to hazing, lots of messy/unhealthy relationship dynamics, misogyny, some nsfw topics

2021, Annie

The last time Anastasia Tremaine saw Charles King, he was shimmering.

The morning light got in her eyes, Tennessee June out in all its glory as Annie loaded the last box into the Uber that would take her to the airport. Out of the corner of her eye, Annie could see Charlie bending down to give Harlynne and Jaxson each one last hug. The early summer sunshine seemed to sparkle on his Dri-Fit Vanderbilt Tennis shirt because of course it did. The world seemed to part for Charlie King and everything that made Annie squint and stumble and fall just painted him in brighter glory.

It was what she had always liked about him, wasn’t it? That she could look at him and see the sun? Annie’s life had always been defined by the people she surrounded herself with. Rodmilla Tremaine’s screechy daughter, Ella Ashbourne’s bitchy stepsister with the bad fake tan, and then Charlie King’s perky young wife.

Maybe that was her mistake from the beginning. How was she going to define herself now?

2011, Charlie

The first time Charles King saw Anastasia Tremaine, she was shimmering.

Literally. Covered in silver sparkles. The glitter bomb was a new ritual to welcome the Alpha Phi pledges, replacing the traditional surprise Jägerbomb after a lengthy hazing investigation that left the sisters scrambling to replace their traditions with those less explicitly related to alcohol. Of course, it was the first mixer of the year, so alcohol of all kinds was flowing through the Kappa Alpha house, just with enough plausible deniability to say that technically nobody underage was encouraged to drink.

Luckily for the majority of the attendees at this mixer, they tended to have the kind of connections to get a good enough lawyer to get out of that stuff.

Charlie saw Annie sparkling as she stood on the coffee table and glitter rained down on her, shrieking in disgust (but maybe soaking up the attention just a little bit). And he knew that was his girl. She was attractive in a self-conscious kind of way, with her long legs and big nose, like maybe she was afraid she stuck out too much. It was easy to see through fake freshman confidence, and Charlie could already see her posh British accent impressing his parents.

He hung back. He didn’t say anything yet. But Charlie had a feeling he would run into Annie Tremaine again.

2019, Annie

It was really quite plain and simple: Charlie was cheating.

Annie believed she was justified in going through his phone, because he was cheating. The signs were everywhere. He was always “going out to happy hour” after work even though he hadn’t been interested in “happy hour” since he’d started at the accounting firm six years ago. He seemed distracted lately. And his little icon always dropped off of the map on Find My Friends the same time every day.

So when Charlie was in the shower, Annie reached across the bed and unlocked his phone. Unknown number.

Tonight again?

No, not tonight

When??? 😩😩😩

Tomorrow?

Ur gonna make me wait until tomorrow

The anticipation will make it sweeter 😉

And there was her proof. “CHARLIE!” Annie roared, jumping out of bed and pounding on the shower door. She was justified. She had-- what was it they called it on those police procedurals? Probable cause? Annie had probable cause. Charlie came stumbling out of the shower, wrapping the towel around him and looking at her blearily. “Whaa-”

“Explain this!”

Charlie just stared at her. “Did you go through my phone?”

2013, Charlie

The plain and simple explanation was that Annie asked Charlie out.

Two years after that first party where they locked eyes, after Annie had attracted a few whispers for stumbling through some on-off relationships with the more sensitive of the KA brothers, Annie went right up to Charlie at homecoming and asked him out. Charlie didn’t plan on getting tied down to a college girl right after he graduated. And no, he didn’t leverage any kind of power he might have had, because Annie had just applied for an internship at the accounting firm he and his father both worked at. That was her choice. Wasn’t that what feminism was all about or something?

Annie asked Charlie out with the brazen confidence of a brand new Co-Chair of Philanthropy, a confidence she would confess, taking a sip of her cosmo, actually came from Charlie’s encouragement. Last spring, right before graduation, Charlie had told Annie to go after her dreams, and Annie had decided that her dreams lied with Charlie King.

That was what Charlie had to explain to people when they raised eyebrows at his relationship with Annie. She had asked him out. It was even possible she was playing him to get her foot in the door at the firm. Right?

2015, Charlie and Annie

Charlie and Annie had a fight the night before their wedding. It started at the rehearsal dinner, when Charlie’s best man, a lanky KA brother named Ross, got into a tiff with Drizella over something political, and then Annie whispered to Charlie to shut him up, and Charlie didn’t, and now they were in their individual hotel rooms, shouting at each other on the phone.

“He’s my friend, Annie, I don’t control him!”

“I’m not asking you to control him, but you could have pulled him for a chat! Told him to tone it down!”

“Annie, why would that--”

“You have no problem doing that with me when I’m being a bitch! And I’ve done it with you when you’re being stupid! What’s the difference?”

“Annie, I--”

“I know why. It’s because you care more about fitting in with your stupid friends than you care about me! Grow up, Charlie, you’re getting bloody married!”

“Annie!”

Silence.

“Look, Annie, I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t travel back in time and do it different.”

“I want you to say you’re sorry!”

“Alright, Annie, I’m sorry.”

More silence. For a moment, Annie had a burning feeling that something might not be right. On the other side of the wall, Charlie had the same feeling.

They both wrote it off as cold feet. And the next day, they had a beautiful wedding, and it even made the society pages, and Annie had never gotten so many likes on Instagram. And Charlie’s mother was proud. And the fight was forgotten.

Until it wasn’t.

2013, Annie

Annie asked Charlie out because her mother said she should, and because her friends said that he was a sweet guy but he would never make the first move, and because a cute self-help book she had read said that if Annie didn’t take control of her destiny now, destiny would take control of her. Annie was a strong woman, and Charlie was cute and well-connected, and maybe he was a lot older, but that was the kind of man Annie wanted, anyway. Someone mature. Someone who wouldn’t walk out when things got hard. Charlie seemed steady.

And yes, maybe she told him that she had gotten her confidence from his little drunken pep talk that he gave her right before he graduated, even though that wasn’t really true. And maybe she faked it the first time they hooked up... and the second and third time, too. And maybe Annie swore she listened to all of his mixtapes, even when she found them quite boring. Men had fragile little egos, and Annie knew she could use that to her advantage.

It didn’t matter, because at the end of things, Annie knew that she and Charlie would be perfect together. What was a little white lie here and there, a little corner cutting? It was destiny and she was just helping it along.

2019, Charlie

Cheating didn’t look good. It never did. Charlie had a kid, and another on the way, and a wife who was perfect on paper. Ross’s stare across the table at Buffalo Wild Wings (an old heartbreak haunt from the Vandy days) said all of that. But Charlie believed he deserved some sympathy.

“She’s crazy, man!” Charlie argued.

“Charlie, you’re not supposed to call women crazy anymore. Erica--”

“I don’t care what bullshit Erica read on TheSkimm!”

“Charlie! That’s my wife you’re talking about!”

“Sorry,” Charlie grumbled, biting into his buffalo wing morosely. “But I think if she was paranoid enough that I was cheating on her that she had to go through my phone, then there’s a bigger problem. And, I’m just saying, she could’ve just asked me.”

“And you would have told her the truth?”

Charlie hmphed and threw the bone down on his plate, reaching for another wing.

2011, Annie

The first time Annie saw Charlie, it was from behind.

But what a glorious back of his head it was! Thick chestnut-brown hair, gelled into a perfect side part but not too much that it couldn’t be tousled a little. A pink golf shirt-- there was nothing like a man who knew how to dress. And he was moving with purpose, with animation, like he knew he was the brightest star in the room and everyone around him was so lucky to bask in his light.

He was the shimmering outline of a boy you could fill in with all your hopes. And the other girls had told Annie to stay away from the older boys, that they would play with your heart and drop you by Christmas to ring-by-spring a girl more their speed. But Annie could see the pieces clicking into place. She had been raised to believe if you worked hard and wanted something badly enough and if you weren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty, you could have whatever you wanted. And Annie wanted this. Badly.

Annie was tired of standing in the shadows. She wanted to attach herself to a boy who commanded the light, so she could shine, too. And she had finally found him.

2021, Charlie

The last time Charlie saw Annie, it was from behind, as she climbed into the car and didn’t bother to give him one last wave before speeding down the highway with the life he had spent the past ten years building.

Annie had gotten everything she wanted in the divorce. It was hard to sympathize with a cheater, especially one who already seemed to have a backup life ready to go as soon as his ex wife and kids were out of the way. Charlie didn’t really feel that way. He mostly resented Annie for blowing this up the way she had, turning one little affair into a marriage-shattering event, fleeing the country with both kids in tow. Charlie didn’t care what Ross said. She was crazy.

Mostly, Charlie mourned what could have been. He could have gone on having it all. He was doing a good job of balancing it. And he had been raised to believe that if he just managed everything tactfully enough, he could skate through life unencumbered, with nobody to say no to what he wanted. For the first time, he couldn’t. And it made Charlie livid.

But maybe it was time for a fresh start. He had Jenna, his beautiful girlfriend. He had his house, still. He had his Nashville friends, who had eventually come around to agree with Charlie that he was in the right (and Charlie believed that they liked Jenna better, anyway).

The worst thing that Annie had done, Charlie decided, was think too highly of him. He wasn’t a man of principle or honor, he just projected that image in the settings where it was necessary. And she had been naive enough to believe in that.

Charlie went back in the house and pulled up Jenna’s contact on his phone. From now on, he wasn’t going to lie about the kind of man he was. And hopefully, that would prevent him from repeating this whole mess over again.

#this was interesting bc i intended to make each character seem sympathetic from their own pov but tbh i think each character is LESS #sympathetic from their own POV #idk what that means but interesting #also i intended to make them equally sympathetic but tbh i don't know if i pulled that off lol #the more i wrote charlie the harder it was to justify anything he did even from his pov lol #but i think annie did some unsympathetic things too #anyway i tRIED MY BEST #idk how much i pulled it off but it was a challenging and fun exercise #bdrptask

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softlyoongi · 6 years

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No Control

Summary: In which Jooheon does aegyo during sex and Hyunwoo just wants him to shut up for once. Warnings: smut, barebacking, bad jokes A/N: Wow so yeah this is my first fic that I've written for a fandom other than phan in literally like six years? I don't know what I'm doing? But I had fun so that's all that matters. Shownu and Jooheon aren't even my big ship, but I promised @jyngie that I would make this for him, and then @wangjahyungwon urged me forth. Thank you for pushing me down this rabbit hole, Charlie. I kinda hate you but I'm grateful so here's a gift. I wrote most of this at 4am so enjoy!

Read it on AO3!

To say that Jooheon was a bottom was completely and utterly wrong. While he acted like a child the majority of the time, liked to hold hands with anybody who would give him the time of day, and he was the biggest scaredy cat in the world.

Yet even so, Jooheon was pretty dominant in bed. He liked to be the one in control. He liked to feel another person’s soft, pliant body beneath him as they took everything he gave him. His rapping persona compared to his actual self was much like his sex life, one could say. Frightening on stage, harmless off stage. Scary in the sheets, cheery in the streets. Or whatever the saying went.

But if there was one thing for certain, Jooheon would get on his hands and knees and let the one and only Hyunwoo take him any way that he wanted. Hell, Jooheon’s pretty sure that was the case for literally every single member in the group. If Hyunwoo asked Kihyun to suck him off, Kihyun wouldn’t even question it. Not even Wonho would be able to resist Hyunwoo’s dominating charm.

Which is exactly why Jooheon justifies the way he’s currently face down on the mattress of his poor dorm bed, moaning like a middle class whore as Hyunwoo fucks him from behind.

“Is that all you got, beef cake?” Jooheon teased, slightly breathless. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and Hyunwoo wasn’t much better off by the looks of it. “When I told you I’d bottom for you, I didn’t expect you to be so gentle, you old man.”

Hyunwoo wasn’t impressed, grabbing Jooheon’s hair and roughly yanking it so his head was off the pillow, throat on full display. His chest was forced upwards, his arms trying to find leverage underneath him as Hyunwoo aggressively slammed into him. “Can you just shut up for one second?” Hyunwoo muttered before flattening his hand on Jooheon’s head and shoving his face back down into the pillows, trying to muffle Jooheon’s whorish moans and his voice.

Truth be told, Jooheon loved to rile Hyunwoo up. He loved the way he got so frustrated that he would do anything in his power just to make Jooheon stop talking. He would grip his hips hard enough to leave marks in the form of bruises, would push his face into the pillows until Jooheon was gasping for breath. He would slam his hips so hard that the sound of their skin slapping together would echo around the dorm room.

Jooheon loved it. He loved the feeling of Hyunwoo fucking him. He loved that this composed, sweet man would get so frustrated with him that he felt the need to shut him up by fucking his brains out. He loved the way Hyunwoo’s cock felt inside of him, stretching him in all the right places, easily finding his prostate and abusing it until Jooheon was nearly in tears.

And that was always the end goal for Jooheon; to be so fucked that he ended up sobbing.

Suddenly, Hyunwoo pulled out of him and Jooheon whined at the loss, feeling his hole clench around nothing. He pushed his hips back, trying to get Hyunwoo to enter him again, but to no avail. Hyunwoo just slapped his thigh, ordering him to turn onto his back.

Jooheon had no option but to obey. He could tease better this way, anyway.

Hyunwoo leaned down and bit down on his collarbone, undoubtedly leaving a mark in his wake. Jooheon let out a squeak that turned into a full-on moan when suddenly Hyunwoo was pushing back inside of him, filling him up, giving him what he wanted. Jooheon felt so full for a moment, his breath escaping him, that he could say absolutely nothing for a hot minute. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, as Hyunwoo spread his legs and started to fuck him so deep that Jooheon would probably not be able to participate in dance practice the next day.

Only when he got his breath back, only when he could make sense of his surroundings, did Jooheon start to play again. He turned on full aegyo, knowing that Hyunwoo hated when he did that, his face turning red and his teeth gritting together. “Oppa, am I doing a good job?” Jooheon whined out, pouting his lip. “Am I being a good boy for you, oppa?”

Hyunwoo groaned and buried his face into Jooheon’s shoulder so he could stop looking at the younger’s innocent face. “Jooheon, I swear to God.”

“What do you swear, oppa?” Jooheon gasped out, letting out another soft moan as Hyunwoo started to aggressively hit his prostate with every thrust, digging his nails into Jooheon’s hip bones. He gulped and brought his hands to Hyunwoo’s face, lifting it up so he could stare him straight in the eyes. “Don’t you love me? Because I love you soooo much! I want to be such a good boy for you!” And then he made a heart with his fingers, which really set Hyunwoo off.

Suddenly, Jooheon couldn’t speak. There was a heavy hand pressed to his mouth that tasted of sweat, effectively shutting him up. It didn’t stop the loud moans that escaped from his throat though, when Hyunwoo unleashed his fury onto him. With one hand holding his thighs open and the other holding Jooheon down by his mouth, Hyunwoo started to fuck him so hard that Jooheon could not physically speak anymore.

This is what he loved about making Hyunwoo frustrated. He could feel every inch of Hyunwoo’s cock as he thrusted into him, could feel the tears pricking at the edges of his eyes as his prostate was hit every time. The hand over his mouth laboured his breathing, making it hard for him to inhale, which in turn made him dizzy with lust. His cock was rock hard against his pelvis and he could feel himself leaking precum everywhere, staining both his stomach and Hyunwoo’s when he leaned down to suck a bruise into Jooheon’s shoulder.

He could feel himself getting close to orgasm, his balls clenching and his stomach getting that familiar warm feeling. He could tell that Hyunwoo was close as well, could feel the way his cock twitched inside of him, growing ever harder. And then Hyunwoo was taking his hands away, the one from Jooheon’s mouth instead going around his throat, squeezing lightly just like Jooheon liked. The one from his thigh was then spread over his stomach, pressing into the skin, which made Jooheon choke out a whine.

Hyunwoo always liked to feel himself fucking into Jooheon through his stomach, and Jooheon thought the idea was so incredibly hot. It made his body tighter around Hyunwoo’s dick, made Hyunwoo growl low in his throat, and god, Jooheon was not going to last.

He reached for his own neglected cock, but Hyunwoo swatted his hand away, giving him a disapproving glare. “Tonight you’re coming untouched.” Jooheon whined and pouted his lip out, but Hyunwoo didn’t budge. “That’s your punishment for being such a little shit.”

Jooheon couldn’t argue with that.

He liked this game they played. He would never stop playing it, and Hyunwoo fully knew that.

It didn’t take long for Hyunwoo to reach his orgasm after that. He let out a loud groan, his hips stuttering, hand pressing against Jooheon’s throat, against his stomach, and then warm cum was filling Jooheon’s body, making him choke out an impossibly loud groan.

If there was anything he loved more than this game, it was the feeling if Hyunwoo cumming inside of him, filling his body with heat. He especially liked it when Hyunwoo continued to fuck him after he came, his movements sloppy and slick, the cum aiding as lubrication.

Jooheon was a blubbering mess at this point. He was blabbing out words that didn’t make sense, was clutching at the sheets, then Hyunwoo’s shoulders, then Hyunwoo’s ass, trying to get him deeper inside of him. He clenched around Hyunwoo’s dick, urging a grunt from the elder, and then Jooheon was cumming, his orgasm knocking through him so hard that he nearly blacked out for a minute.

He let out a long drawn out moan, erratically bucking his hips, trying desperately to ride Hyunwoo’s cock through it all. He felt the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and then he was crying, sobbing as he reached his peak and splattered warm cum on his soft tummy.

Hyunwoo leaned down to kiss him, trying to swallow his moans, but it never really worked. Jooheon was always loud when it came to things like this, and Hyunwoo should be used to it by now. But he kept kissing him, wiped at his eyes until his tears were mostly gone, and then they just laid there, soaking in each other’s presence.

“You really need to stop calling me oppa during sex,” Hyunwoo muttered after a moment, slowly pulling out of Jooheon, making him wince as he felt Hyunwoo’s cum start to leak out of him.

Gross. He needed a shower.

“The day I stop calling you oppa during sex is the day I die,” Jooheon said breathlessly, kissing Hyunwoo on the cheek cheerily.

“We should break up,” Hyunwoo said.

Jooheon scoffed. “We aren’t even dating in the first place, you can’t break up with me.”

“I’m quitting the group.”

Jooheon shrugged and pushed Hyunwoo away from him so he could go clean them up. “Good. Then I won’t have to stare at your beefy arms anymore.”

They both laughed at that and began to clean up, using tissues and wet wipes to the best of their ability until a showering opportunity arose. Jooheon stripped the sheets and sprayed some fruity spray in the air, then got dressed and tried to make himself presentable for the dinner Kihyun was cooking.

After they were finished, Jooheon kissed Hyunwoo on the lips once more. “Thanks for the sex!” he exclaimed, and high fived him.

Hyunwoo sighed and shook his head. “Never again,” he lied, knowing fully well that they would do this again tomorrow. And the next day. And for the month after that as well.

They made their way to the kitchen, Jooheon chattering happily while Hyunwoo walked confidently yet quietly. It was the walk of someone who had just had the best sex of their life. When they entered the kitchen, it was dead silent, the rest of the band members staring at them as they walked through the doors.

Jooheon didn’t bat an eyelash. He felt like he was in a movie, jazzy music playing in the background as he greeted the uncomfortable faces of his band members.

After a moment, Hyungwon groaned loudly and slammed his head back on the couch. “I can’t do this,” he deadpanned, and everyone turned to stare at him expectantly. “I can’t look them in the eye knowing that Jooheon does aegyo in bed.”

Jooheon snorted and put his hands on his hips, staring steadily back at them all. “Don’t act so surprised. You damn well knew we been fucking.”

There was a round of groans. Minhyuk covered Changkyun’s ears. Kihyun dropped his spatula. It was Hoseok who spoke up, annoyed, pulling at his hair with both hands. “Don’t say it like that in front of the child,” he hissed, nodding to Changkyun.

Jooheon gave Wonho an unimpressed look. “After hearing Changkyun and Kihyun in the shower this morning, I’m sure he knows all about the sex, Hoseok. He doesn’t need to learn from me.”

With that, Kihyun properly kicked Jooheon out of the kitchen and sent him to bed without dinner.

#monsta x #mx #mx fanfiction #mx fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #showheon #shownu #jooheon #shownu x jooheon #mx smut #monsta x fanfiction #monsta x fanfic #barebacking #humor

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cj-rogers · 7 years

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locked,

[The cafe remained, in part, very desolate that time of night. The quiet overhanging lights created a gentle, and warm atmosphere, and though Charlie Jo was never one for simply allowing time to pass, there she was, in the corner of the coffee shop. A book was placed in her hand and a set of invisible ear buds set in her ears as she read to herself blocking out any surrounding white noise.

And it was odd, having all the time in the world to herself, but great at the same time, and she thanked the brain in her head for calming the storm of the many thoughts that had intruded upon her mind, because, yes, the thoughts were rampant and she feared, were slowly taking over.

So without a trace of Liz--by god, she was the world's worst waitress-- Charlie Jo sunk in her corner booth, with her book eye level, and her mind stuck on nothing but the words on the pages;

"I had stopped to look at the house as I passed; and its seared red brick walls, blocked windows, and strong green ivy clasping even the stacks of chimneys with its twigs and tendons, as if with sinewy old arms, had made up a rich attractive mystery, of which I was the hero. Estella was the inspiration of it, and the heart of it, of course---"

And though she thought she was alone, she couldn't help but feel a slight change in the air. A slight icy coldness brought a chill in the air, which pricked at a couple of strands of hair on her arm, and made them stand up. And in thinking it was nothing she continued on to read:

"But, though she had taken such strong possession of me, though my fancy and my hope were so set upon her, though her influence on my boyish life and character had been all-powerful, I did not, even that romantic morning, invest her with any attributes save those she possessed. I mention this in this place, of a fixed purpose, because it is the clue by which I am to be followed into my poor labyrinth. According to my experience, the conventional notion of a lover cannot be always true--"

And there it went again, but it was real this time, as the boy passed her. And as he slid into the seat in front of her, she could feel her purse involuntarily quicken. Something was not right. And did she ask to be so rudely interrupted?

So without showing any fear-- because she was certain that was the vibe that her brain was telling her to feel-- she pulled her face away from her book, and met a pair of pale green eyes.]

You're barking up the wrong tree, pal. And I'm busy so either leave or give me your best case.

[And the boy, all but smirked, as his hand reached across the table to pull her cup of coffee to his lips. ]

I don't have a case, but I'm about 92% certain I have the right girl.

And I'm about 99% certain you're fucking wrong.

Fine, would you please be so kind as to point me to the other Roger's girl in this coffee shop.

[And to that Charlie clicked her teeth and set her book down because there seemed to be no one else in the coffee shop. soooo.]

Listen, man, if you're here about some book my Dad wrote or some life lecture he gave at some fucking college a couple of years ago...

I'm not here about your father. [There's a shake of his head.] I never had the privelege of meeting him.

Well, you still can if you're that fucking fond of the guy.

[A head shake.] We have a complicated relationship.

Here, here. [And she slides that coffee mug back over to herself, and cheer's bud. A toast and she takes a sip.]

[And what's that? A scowl?] Don't be so silly. Your relationship with your father is next to perfect. He loves you. You know he loves you. You could tell him anything in the world and he wouldn't judge you. Yet you don't. The fact that you push him aside sometimes probably puts a damper on his efforts, but you don't ignore each other, and you communicate which is good. Something not a lot of people have. Don't take it for granted. [And the sternness in his voice raised some rage inside Charlie Jo, but she understood the advice, and well, accepted it.] But I'm not here to talk to you about Little Steve. Or to tell you to stop lying to your poor parents.

Do... I even know you well enough for you to make any sort of impact?

I'm just here to get inside that head of yours. And no, we've never officially met either. And before you go asking my name, let me tell you that I don't really use it anymore. [And so he's digressed, and his eyes have landed on the book next to Charlie Jo's hand. And he's reached across the table once more to place a hand on the paperback only to slide it towards him.] Great Expectations. [And he's rereading Charlie's dog eared page before thumbing through a couple of chapters.] Your namesake, huh? [And a chuckle.] You have to have a special set of parents to name their daughter after Charles Dickens.

Nah, they're just nerds. But you do know my Dad?

[There's a shake of his head as he's run out of pages to skip. He doesn't like answering questions he's already answered, so a verbal response escapes him. Finally reaching the end of the book, out falls a spare leaf of notebook paper. And Charlie Jo shouldn't have been surprised, because maybe, just maybe she had been holding on to that certain piece of paper for awhile. And though she had always seemed to have been able to keep in in the perfect hiding spot, you know, away from her girlfriend Tiffany, and nOT on her person---now the tiny rectangle was placed perfectly in front of the boy in front of her.

And though Charles Dickens had previously only sparked a little interest in the guy, the attention was now fully on the item in front of him. Setting the book aside, the boy's hand was faster than Charlie Jo, as he resumed to pick it up.

The page looked worn as if it'd been folded back and forth from reading. It was half laminated-- with scotch tape. A crinkled up mess, it was, really.

And as the boy began unfolding he was sure to be extra careful as Charlie Jo was eyeing him a little too intensely. He began to read as Charlie Jo diverted her attention everywhere else.]

I recognize this handwriting.

How?

It's familiar to you. It's not your handwriting but I'm assuming a girlfriend, someone special. And judging by the creases in the page, the page is either old or has been read over a million times.

[And so Charlie's mind's way past explaining herself. She hadn't looked at the boy to offer any kind of non-verbal cues that he was right.

Instead, she kept her mind-- or tried to keep what was left of it on Tiffany.

Because even if she had found an escape in the green eyed monster, she realized that there was always a sense of walking on eggshells with her. And that, a part of Charlie Jo wasn't entirely free to be herself. Free to feel whatever she felt.

And even if she was extremely and justifiably pissed off at Merry until the end of her time, she'd still managed to keep a piece of Blue Eyes with her at all times-- her shredded up notebook wriTINgs. Or rather writing as after a certain family/children gathering she forced herself to trash just about every trace of Merry. Every trace except one excerpt she really couldn't let go of.

And though time was showing that he would not be repairing any semblance of the remaining relationship they once had. Charlie Jo, was still stupid enough to hope otherwise. That's what carrying that taped up page meant.

She couldn't un-hear Merry's words of complete rejection, or the anger in her voice or the looming threat of another MiguEl instance. Even if she had no right or say so in what Merry did, the thought still rattled her. Because, surprise, she still cared. And if she had needed any proof it was that feeling she felt that quickened her heartbeat from just being in the same room as her. And the boiling feeling of her blood as they argued in front of everyone.

And so her mind had been playing this trick on her. Ever since then. And honestly it had been playing that same trick ever since she'd gotten her hands on the pages-- Ever since Ronnie did what he did--And even more so after Tiffany found them.

Because she had plans of which she had never followed through with.

And as if to brutally remind herself of that decision she was supposed to make. Her mind kept traveling back to plenty of nights ago--that a bittersweet memory. She could still feel the muscle memory in her heart as her heart beat mimicked the rhythm it pulsed when she had laid there with Merry in her own bed. And it had to have been her fucking bed--just to serve her a screwed up reminder of what could have been, and what she still, despite everything wanted.

Because when they'd promised to never hurt each other again... she had fucking believed it.

And yet, time proved otherwise.

But she still believed it, despite how Merry's actions were disproving herself. And she still had it stuck in her mind that she forgave her for everything. And she would if it meant Merry would forgive her back. But that would be a long shot.

And the written cues on paper served as a validation in her mind that they were just making it harder on each other.

So she's trying to pull away from her thoughts, and the boy is staring at her face. She's transparent again? Fuck.]

What were you thinking about?

Nothing.

Let's not pretend you don't have emotions, Charlie Jo. That's what's got me in this mess to begin with

What mess??? [So with a snap of her head, she's finally giving that boy a glare, and she looks like she's going to come right across that table and strike him in his stupid head.]

[And he's raising his eyebrow.] Your mess.

[And to make his point as quick as possible, he's sliding the piece of paper in trade for her Charles Dickens book, and he's opening it back to the page she had dog-eared. With a lick of his finger, he spots the page, and begins to read.]

"The unqualified truth is, that when I loved Estella with the love of a man, I loved her simply because I found her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection."

[She has her eyes shut now, and he's closed the book with a sigh.]

Fuck that. [There's a shake of her head, as she can hear a small trace of a chuckle from him, but the moment she'd opened her eyes, the last image she saw was a flash of a smirk, and a set of green eyes.]

#locked

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nerdylittleshit · 7 years

Text

Thoughts about Spn 12x14

SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!

Here we go again. Everyone raise their hands who had some massive Buffy season 4 flashbacks. Good. Then let’s get this started. I have to admit I liked this episode way better than Beren’s 12x07. He is one of the senior writers now, which means he gets the mytharc-episodes. And I think mytharc-episodes are usually a bit harder to write compared to motw-episodes, because they have no real end; they are one part of a bigger story. Berens is one of the better writers for mytharc-episodes (I really liked last season’s 11x06 and 11x14), so I think my dislike for 12x07 was probably more about the whole Lucifer-arc than anything else (not that it was a bad episode, but not my favourite of Berens). 12x14 now focused on the other villian of the season: the British MoL. And because I do think they are way more interesting than Lucifer I liked this episode better. We got a glimpse at their master plan - get rid of every monster in the US. The question remains though: Why? Out of the goodness of their hearts? Or to gain power and controll? We know most hunters started hunting for very personal reasons; many lost someone close to them. That is their motivation. And of course they are hunter dynasties like the Campells were one (though we never heard of another one). But what is the deal with the MoL? Because what this episode tried was to sell their way of working not only to Sam and Dean, but to us as the audience as well. To get us at a place where we at least question if their way isn’t the better one. And where we try to understand why both Mary and Sam agree to work with them. So of course there has to be a catch. Or rather a Ketch. Because I think he was the real villian of the episode.

But before we get to the adventures of Mary & Sam and Dean & Mr. Ketch, let’s start where we left last episode: Mary coming clean to her sons. The whole exchange was very painful to watch, because a lot of hurtful things where said that were hold back for too long. Right from the start Sam wants to know how long his mother worked with the MoL, so they know now that everything that happened in 12x12 was Mary’s fault. Notice that to Dean the worst part was Cas almost dying, whereas Sam mentions Wally’s death. Priorities. Mary obviously feels guilty for both events and blames herself, especially for Wally.

The whole dialogue is between Mary and Dean. Sam just listens and Mary only speaks to him after Dean left. I think the reason for this is that Mary never had with Sam what she had with Dean: a relationship, memories to go back to etc. Both Mary and Dean had an image of the other that gets destructed here. Dean is no longer a child. Mary is no longer his mom in the sense that she needs to mother him. That is the source of conflict so far. Mary missing her children, trying to connect them with the adults in front of her. Dean longing for a mother and realising that Mary can’t be this to him. Mary tells Dean that while she is their mother (and always will be) she is not just that. She is also a person, who can make her own choices, who has her own needs, and whose adult sons no longer need her to hold their hands. This is the contrast to the Mary we saw in the opening minutes of 1x01. There she was the picture perfect mother, dying while trying to protect her children, the ultimate sacrifice. Woman are expected to give up everything for their children, and Mary did so while giving her life. We can only speculate now how much Mary back then fit into the role of a traditional mother. We know she still hunted. But the reason she is doing now all those things we don’t expect a mother to do is because technically her sons don’t need her as a mother. They grow up without her, and despite everything they grow up becoming good men. In her absence they founded their own family with people like Cas and Jody and in the past Bobby and Charlie. Maybe Dean longed all his life for his mother, but he also didn’t need her to survive (which doesn’t mean they should kill Mary again... killing her now after they had her back would crush both Sam & Dean).

And this is how Mary might have justified her actions. Because the blame here isn’t only about working with the MoL, but also about Mary leaving them, something Dean hold back since 12x03. We can’t compare Mary’s absence with John’s, because again Mary left her adult sons, John left his children. To Dean though it is a painfull reminder that she left him before: the night she died. And of course back then she didn’t leave him willingly. But, and that is part of grieving, at times it felt like that. At times he was angry because his mother wasn’t there. At times he blamed her for this, no matter how unjustified it was. Loss doesn’t make sense all the time. And then his mother returned from the dead just to leave him again. And Dean never voiced the pain of missing her for so long. Of missing her again. And the implied accussion that Dean never was a child because Mary wasn’t around, which of course confirms Mary’s worst fear. She wanted a better, safer, more normal life for her children than she had but the exact opposite happened. Though I think it is fair to assume that Mary was raised quite different as a hunter than Sam and Dean. They never had a real home, were always moving and left alone, at times without enough food/money. We know John was an alcoholic and it is at least implied he was physical abusive. The Campells though? They had a home in Lawrence. Pretty sure Mary was able to go to school and had friends. Samuel might have trained her, yes. But given how professional the Campells hunted it was probably a lot safer than the way Sam & Dean learned to hunt. Mary tried to prevent her kids of having her childhood, but in reality Sam and Dean’s childhood was probably much worse.

And Dean calling Mary by her name instead of mom is another blow. It puts them more in the position of equals instead of a mother-child-dynamic (and given they are both adults it kinda makes sense), but it also makes them to strangers in a way, or at least degrades their relationship. You know, instead of Supernatural this show should be called Superpainful instead.

Dean & Ketch

As I wrote before I think Mr. Ketch is the real villian of the episode. If you haven’t been creeped out before by him you should be by now. And on top of all his creepiness Bobo also made him a sexist asshole (treating Serena like a maid) to make sure none of us regrets if he dies.

Though Ketch is a MoL as well, he acts more like a hunter throughout the episode. He is the one getting his hands dirty, while Mick and the others in contrast sit in their ivory tower. That might be the reason the show paired him with Dean for this episode. Dean sees himself as a hunter, Sam though, while being a talented hunter as well, always considered himself to be a MoL too (before they tortured him anyway). Ketch again tries to bond with a Winchesters over their apparently similar natures. He told Mary that being a hunter is her best version, that very simply she should cut her ties to her sons and give up predenting she is a mother. With Dean he acts out the same play. Telling him that they both have the need to kill, because they are in the end nothing more than killers, and the MoL offers them enough opportunities to fulfill their needs (did anyone else remind this of Dexter?). And after Rowena in 12x11 he is the second to call Dean a killer, so we see a pattern here. But I think the reson they are doing this is to prove the opposite. In 12x11, where Dean dropped his mask of performing Dean, he was shocked to be called a killer. Because he doesn’t want to be one.

Does Dean have a tendency for violent behaviour? Yes. Just in this episode his reaction over the fight with Mary was to distract himself with hunting (his need to hit something) and alcohol (and Ketch later offered both). But that doesn’t make Dean a killer. Because he can controll his dark needs. He even did for a long time while being under the influence of the MoC. He still wants a slice of the apple pie life: a home, a family, (romantic) love. The reason he gave it up in season 6 was his believe that he didn’t deserve it, that he was only good at hunting. But he has grown since then. He knows his worth. He knows the person he wants to be like. The way Mary does. She wants to be a mother. Her actions, if you like them or not, are based on her being a mother, of wanting to create a better world for her sons. Dean is a brother, a son, a friend, before he is a hunter. The MoL misinformation isn’t just about the monsters they are dealing with but reading the persons they work with wrong. Ketch thinks Mary’s and eventually Dean’s loyalty will be the MoL because he thinks of them as killers. But their loyalty is to each other because they are family.

We also learned that Toni and Ketch used to date. Speaking of horror couples. I wonder if Ketch is the father of Toni’s son though? Anyway, it brings Toni calling Ketch a psychopath into new light. Because I don’t think she called him that because her feelings were hurt, but because she knows him best. She knows his true nature. And it frightens her. So if he is the father, does he know he has a son? Or did Toni keep it a secret because of her fear of him?

We can already see the difference between Dean and Ketch while they hunt down vampires. Ketch wants to torture the female vampire. Dean is visible upset. He knows she won’t talk like that. He also knows that she knows that she is going to die. So he offers her the only thing of value: a quick death. (The other vampire before mentioned that she was weak and gave her blood that was a)human and b) fresh, so I wonder if maybe her nest fed on animal blood or blood donations?)

Two other things:

1) Dean: How did you find us? Ketch: You know you live in a MoL bunker, right?

2) Ketch’s cross tattoo. Does anyone has any ideas why he has it? What is the meaning of it? In the beginning of the season it was to identify him, but that is now obsolute and yet the camera focussed on it. He doesn’t seem to me like the religious type, so why else could he have it?

Mary & Sam

I already mentioned that in the exchange in the beginning of the episode Sam is kind of left out; it was between Dean and Mary. We also only see her writing to Dean, though from a shot of Sam’s phone display we know she texted him as well. From her PoV though Dean seems to be more her focus. Still, it is Sam she asks to visit her, thinking she might has a better chance to explain herself to him than to Dean.

In the headquarter of the Initiative MoL we see a lot more of how the MoL works and why Buffy Mary agreed to work with them. I wonder though if we will see the old man by the end of the season. (And the last character the show refered to as old man? Benny’s maker. Just saying) He wants to recruit the Winchesters because he believes the rest of the American hunters will follow. Do they though? I’m still not sure what the reputation of the Winchesters is among other hunters. We learned in 12x06 that they tell a lot of stories about them. But Sam and Dean kickstarted also an apocalypse or two, so. Anyway, the MoL seems to have a problem to recruit elite hunters, the ones they used to work with in the old days. It seems like a lot has changed. Mary of course comes from a) another time and b) a hunter familly, who already worked much more professional than most hunters we know, and more similar to the MoL (and I still like to believe the Campells were among the elite hunters who used to work for the American MoL). Most hunters though prefer to work alone/with partners and not to be bossed around by some British Lads. Figures. Characters like Pierce then seem like yet another fooder the way Wally was (don’t trust him though, he is a toaster). It gets sadder then when we learn Pierce was only there as a spy, secretly working for the alpha vamp. If the MoL in this episode tried to sell themselves they did a poor job. Of course Sam is impressed to see how they killed vampires. And it is interesting to see the way MoL compares vampires to criminals. The hunters they are exactly that, and they kill the ones who stepped out of line, after the harm is done. To the MoL though they are terrorists. They generalize all vampires and they kill them before the harm is done. The show though has shown us more than one example of vampires who acted against their nature, who fed of animals or blood donations in order to kill no human. Or in other words trust Bobo Berens to make a comment on Trumps muslim ban in a CW genre show. But then everything that happens after the vampires start hunting them shows how utterly unprepared they are. Serena, Alton and Mick have no experience in hunting. They don’t have enough weapons/don’t carry weapons with them. The security guards either don’t seem to be prepared for an attack (when Mary and Ketch returned they didn’t even get the holy water/silver knife treatment). The headquarters aren’t build for defense. It seems like the MoL was arrogant enough to think the monster they hunt wouldn’t hunt them back.

Then again we have yet another example of the Mol’s misinformation. They didn’t know the alpha vamp was back in the US. They didn’t know Pierce was working for him and selling them out.

Speaking of the alpha vamp: I think he was only brought back to bring back the Colt to use and to learn that yes, it works on alphas. Still, his indifference towards England made me laugh (sorry, not sorry to all my British followers).

The Colt though. Again the MoL don’t know as much as they claim to know, in this case how to make new bullets. But the real reason it was brought back was to see Sam falter, as he realized his mother lied again or at least didn’t tell the whole truth. That Ramiel was right when he accussed them of stealing. And that she risked the life of her sons for the Colt.

Seeing the Colt in action again was really cool. I also knew that Sam wouldn’t have let Mick die and only pretended to fight to get the bullet, I didn’t need those flashbacks to confirm it. Stuff for the less obssesive GA though.

Sam’s conversation in the beginning with Mary and at the end with Mick (who now seems way more sympathic than Ketch) are full circle. In the beginning Mary tells Sam the reason why she works with the MoL: to make the world a safer place. To give her sons the chance to live a normal life. Sam tells her that he choose this life (as a hunter). And while this is true Mary reminds him that once upon a time he was out, he was at college, and that she knows the reason he went back (not only Jess’s death but the feeling of responsibility that prevents most hunters from getting out). With the resources of the MoL though Sam again sees a chance for a real change. Sure they were unprepared this time. But with both the resources of the MoL and the Winchesters combined they could do a lot of good. Or so he hopes. Experience tells us it will end bad. And I wonder if Dean is willing to work with them now that both Mary and Sam are in. I doubt it.

Speaking of Dean: One life-threating experience and he is ready to forgive his mom. Sure it is nice to see him accept her as an adult who can make her own choices, but I felt the conflict solution here a bit flat.

Until next week with Cas praying (does he turn to heaven for help again? I hope not) and Dean in glasses. Yup.

#supernatural #spn 12x14 #the raid #spn meta #spoilers #my meta

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wheelswithinreels · 7 years

Video

youtube

‘The uncanny valley, at the end of the day, is the gap between seeing and believing.’ Bruce Carter, at the Animal Logic animation studio in Sydney.

We all hate politicians. But why? Isn't that weird? Throughout history, we haven't always hated our leaders. So why do our politicians, these days, seem so alien, so strange, so... uncanny?

...Maybe an obscure Japanese roboticist's theory holds the answer. A video essay. Part one of two!

Ah, politics. (Cue ~80% of my readers switching off in disgust.) Actually, since right now I don't have any readers, that's fine, you can't divide by zero. Unless you're Ted Chiang, in which case they'll probably seize your book with glee, hose you with money and make a movie about it.

...Anyway. Politics.

This one I wrestled with for a bit; not least because I'm not all that comfortable with writing a piece of genuinely venomous criticism. You'll notice as we go that I tend to review things I love, and that when I do criticise, it's with the intention of making something awesome even better. I just enjoy what I'm doing more that way.

And it's not just because I'm a spineless jellyfish (although I am, wibble) - it's because on the whole, there ain't no accounting for taste and one man's trash is another man's treasure, etcetera. (Incidentally, that last one - awful way to tell your kid he's adopted.) But, yes, to each his own, say I, and all the more for me - if I don't like something and you do, that's totally cool, you do your thing and I'll do mine. It's all just opinions in the end.

And to be honest, I reckon there's very little to be gained by hurling bags of shit at things/people/art you don't like, on the whole; yes, it might be funny, yes, it might feel cathartic, but if the target of your shit volley ever actually reads it, it's more likely to upset them quite badly than anything else. Which, well, probably outbalances those flickers of amusement and the momentary release you get from ripping seven shades of shit out of them.

I dunno. I don't mean to get on my high horse, and I look rubbish up there anyway, but... I'm with Michael Keaton in Birdman, on the whole, when he rails against hatchet jobs. 'You write a couple of paragraphs and you know what? None of this cost you fuckin' anything!' Art's hard. Compassion's easy. (Most of the time.) As someone's old Welsh grandmother is no doubt still muttering, 'if you can't say anything nice, SHUT THE FUCK UP, ARSEHOLE.'

...You'll see this come up a couple of times in upcoming videos, I reckon. Hey, it's an interesting subject. And I certainly haven't always practiced what I preach... I probably laughed harder and longer at das-sporking's savage Twilight recap than anything else in 2009. Still. (The infamous Charlie Brooker wrote an excellent and thought-provoking piece about exactly this in 2010, if you're interested...)

So, why break my own rule? Well, it comes down to this, I reckon.

Bad art doesn't hurt anybody. (Define 'bad', anyway.) From a formal literary perspective, my 13-year-old fanfiction might well have been an enormous steaming heap - but at the time, it helped me hone my craft immeasurably, put me in touch with a small but close-knit group of sweet, supportive readers who reviewed each other and built up each other's confidence, and helped me grow up.

Put it this way: if you'd left me a bad review at age 13, I can guarantee I wasn't mature enough to handle it. (Hey, people saying my shit stinks still hurts.) All you'd have accomplished would be to upset a kid, and probably drive them off the internet for a few months. It's hard to see how that's a net positive.

But while bad art, generally speaking, doesn't hurt anyone, bad politics does. More specifically, bad politicians do. In all sorts of ways - from dementia taxes, to food banks, to the more insidious problem of receding trust in our democracy - from Nick Clegg's continued insistence that he shouldn't have to apologise for betraying every student who voted for him (ahem), to Theresa May's cowardice concerning debates, to her apparent inability to answer any question, at all, like a human being.

And when we see shit like this going down, we should start getting annoyed. We should stand at the back and heckle. We should make our arguments heard. Otherwise more bad things will happen to more good people.

So the reason I've made an exception for Theresa May - and every other politician who's traded in their authenticity for a slicked-back PR guru - is that, well, she's a politician. More than that - she is, for now at least, the leader of my country. And yet she pulls stunts like these, in broad daylight...

Plymouth is feeling the effects of military cuts. Will she guarantee to protect the city from further pain? "I'm very clear that Plymouth has a proud record of connection with the armed forces."

How will your Brexit plan make Plymouth better off? "I think there is a better future ahead for Plymouth and for the whole of the UK."

Will you promise to sort out our transport links? "I'm very clear that connectivity is hugely important for Plymouth and the South West generally."

- Sam Blackledge, The Plymouth Herald

I go on about this kind of shit at quite some length in the video, so I won't repeat myself too much, but... seriously? Is this how stupid you think we are? Whichever parasitical sycophant convinced Theresa May that the electorate will swallow this kind of gubbins needs Domestos-ing, stat. The Great British public rather dislike being patronised. As they recently proved.

...So, even though I felt uncomfortable titling the video 'Why You Hate Theresa May,' and I still feel uncomfortable having a video on my channel with a title like that, I think it's justified. Hey, put it this way: if I was a politician who was honestly trying to do some good for my country, and a video popped up titled 'Why People Fucking Hate You', I'd be upset, sure - but I'd want to watch it. Just to see whether they actually had a point. Just in case I'd fucked something up badly. I'd want to see.

The video isn't really about hate. I don't want people to hate their prime minister, and if she ever changes, you bet I'll make a video expressing my delight and appreciation. I just wish she'd understand why, right now, they're justified in doing so.

Anyway, this video was 90% finished a month or so ago, in fact; then I sort of moved countries, and forgot about it, until the UK election campaign brought it squarely back into focus. (That's why poor old Ed Miliband comes in for the brunt of the bollocking in this first part; Theresa May hadn't really got going with 'strong-and-stable' yet.) But I was seized with a sudden urge to dig it out and finish it because, well, it seemed so relevant to why she'd lost.

...Also, I'm still a baby channel and, well, I'm as keen to capitalise on current events as the next guy. So, sheer good luck and timing that I had a video almost done.

And now for something completely different: I just wanted to address the fact that most/all of you probably saw this video pop up first as an ad. Yep, a paid one. Via Google AdWords. I'm officially a heartless, soulless business.

Or not, since I'm also broke as shit, and my AdWords campaign is presently set to run for TWO WHOLE DAYS at a cost of roundabout £15. Yeah. I do slightly sadden myself sometimes.

I did have some severe doubts about advertising on YouTube... for one thing, everyone hates adverts. How dare I waste people's time? Well, here's how I justified it to myself:

Like I said, baby channel. Tiny. Insignificant. When 300 hours are uploaded to YouTube every minute, frankly, I'm screwed if I can't get the word out somehow. At least at the start.

You can skip my ads, 'cos I'm way too poor for the mandatory 30-second ones, har har. (Also, I'd never make an ad unskippable. Fuck that shit.)

I can count the number of ads I've actually enjoyed and/or watched to the end on one hand, but... there have been a few of them. Some showing me videos I might never otherwise have seen. If my crappy little ad campaign nets me one person who genuinely enjoys my stuff, and watches it, and thinks it improved their day, well... it'll be money well spent.

<sanctimonious-soapboxery>When you think about it, it's actually my money that's helping out those poor creators who do rely on monetisation, so good for them, I say. Poor sods.</sanctimonious-soapboxery>

Having said all that... I'd rather you watched the AVPM video, frankly. It's way more representative of what this channel's going to be about. But hey, this is something I felt strongly enough about to pour hours of research (read: watching politicians lie on YouTube) into. If that's not enough to make you pity me, well... may God have mercy on your twisted little walnut of a soul.

And on that note...

#politics #uk politics #theresa may #election #video essay #uncanny valley #spineless jellyfish

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