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gaemkyuu · 3 years

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Loved.

Warnings: Mentions of an abusive boyfriend (Not Charlie) A/N: This is a personal piece of something I went through. Not all the details disclosed on this piece happened to me, but they have happened to people I love. Something we connected on was that one person came into our lives and became the light that we needed to get out of our situation. Charlie isn’t meant to portray the image of a false hero, but rather a light and a starting point. A second chapter will be made.

If you or someone you love is suffering from abuse, you are not alone. We hear you, we love you and we can help you. Reach out of the dark. Step into your greatness. Stand Tall.

Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Loved.

Kaia paused to take a sip of water. Carrying around boxes and furniture was proving to be difficult with the hot LA sun. She was used to super sunny days with a cool breeze or rainy cloudy days up in Vancouver. Moving countries hadn’t been easy, what with the paperwork and everything, but here she was. Starting a life in LA, the city where people come to make their dreams happen.

“How you doin’?” the girl jump at the sound of a male voice and turned to see a very good looking guy leaning on her fence. His beautiful eyes and contagious smile caused her to smile back at him. He seemed genuine and something deep inside told her he was good.

“I’m hoping you’re the person that lives beside me, otherwise I may have to call the cops” the male chuckled at her response and shook his head.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood. Me and my roommates live right beside you. Are you new to LA?” Kaia knew she shouldn’t get caught chatting away with the male, but she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression. She knew that bad neighbours could make your life a living hell, plus being new to the country meant that she had no friends. Might as well start somewhere right?

“New to the country actually, I’m from Vancouver” Judging by the way his eyes grew to the size of saucers, she assumed that he might be a fellow Canadian too. It would be nice to have someone who understands the culture shock as a friend. “Parles-tu francais?” she sheepishly asked.

“Oui! J’suis de Dieppe!” Kaia let out a big laugh. She very rarely heard that dialect of french and it felt funny to her ears. She blushed when she realized how hard she was laughing.

“Sorry! I wasn’t laughing at you or anything. I’ve rarely heard an Acadien speak french and it sounds a little funny to me” she scratched her neck in slight embarrassment. The male seemed to bite his lip and she couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in his eyes, confirming that he wasn’t offended. “So what brought you here?”

“I’m an actor. What about you?”

“I moved down here with my boyfriend, he’s actually a local” she saw a small look of disappointment cross his unusually bright features, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. She could hear her boyfriend’s voice growing louder as he approached the entrance of the house. “Do you live by yourself? Or?”

“I live with my roommates, all of whom are girls with boyfriends” she giggled at his predicament but found it interesting.

“Too much estrogen I take it?” he rolled his eyes in confirmation and she laughed again at his reaction.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. But they’re pretty awesome, so I can’t complain” he opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted at a booming voice. She continued to chat with the man about the neighbourhood and life in LA in general. It felt nice to Kaia that someone was also weirded out by all the fake grass lawns and garbage on the streets. The conversation was flowing naturally and she was very engaged that she didn’t notice another person in the house growing impatient.

“Kaia!” She quickly turned around to her boyfriend, who was motioning her over. He looked irritated and upset, something she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with. She opened her mouth to explain herself as her new neighbour waved, but he interrupted her. “Let’s go!”

“Sorry, the heat’s making him a little grumpy. Thank you for welcoming us to the neighbourhood. It was really nice chatting with you” she smiled as her boyfriend marched back into the house. “I’m Kaia by the way, but you can call me Kai”

“Charlie. Charlie Gillespie. It was nice to meet you Kai, pass the welcome on to your boyfriend from us. See you around?” she smiled softly and waved goodbye as he made his way over to the front door. When he was out of sight, she took a deep breath preparing herself for the inevitable conversation with her boyfriend.

Who’s that? You’ve been flirting for half an hour. I wasn’t flirting. He’s our neighbour. Don’t lie to me, Kaia. I’m not. Listen, I moved you down here to be with me. Last time I checked, I moved down to start my career. Don’t. Sass. Me. Kaia. I’m sorry. Remember. You’re here because I let you. Don’t forget that.

The next time Kaia saw Charlie was a few weeks later. Her boyfriend and her had a big argument, so she was de-stressing the only way she knew how, making music. She was sure that at some point, someone in the neighbourhood would make a noise complaint, but right now, she could care less. She filled track after tracking, replaying what she had already made and what she had added. Kaia often poured her soul into her music, something she felt was therapeutic.

It had always been Kaia’s dream to move down to LA and pursue a music career. So when she finished her music program in Vancouver, she began working full time around the city doing odd jobs and mixing jobs wherever she could. She had saved up enough money to make the move, when she had met her boyfriend. He was playing a live set at a bar she was bartending for and the two hit it off right away. Soon, the two began to collaborate with music and Kaia found herself producing and mixing his demos.

Sure, their relationship was a little bit of a rollercoaster, but in Kaia’s mind, that wasn’t strange. She had seen her parents experience similar things with one another. He struggled to pay rent along with his tuition fees for his music program, but Kaia didn’t mind paying for it. Being an American citizen in Canada made it difficult at times to find employment and at the beginning he was super grateful. That’s how they fell into a rhythm on Kaia working to support the both of them while doing what she loved.

When her boyfriend’s Visa expired, she knew this was her chance to move down to LA. Her parents weren’t thrilled with the two of them moving in together, but they had already been a couple for 2 years. In Kaia’s mind, it was the next step in their relationship. She also assured her parents that if anything happened, that she had enough money saved up to support herself on her own for a few months.

“Sick beats!” she jumped at the voice, turning around to see Charlie fist bumping into her garage. Immediately, she turned down the music and smiled. “I didn’t know you were into music too! This is really good!”

“Think so? I haven’t made anything from scratch in a long time” Kaia blushed when Charlie’s jaw dropped at her confession. “I’m actually struggling with this track if I’m being honest”

“May I?” she moved over letting Charlie take control and play around with things. The two then began a very in depth conversation about music and finding the sound of the track she was working on. However, Kaia came to learn that as passionate Charlie was about music, he was also very goofy. The two playfully argued as to whether Charlie was correct about incorporating a xylophone or bongos into the track. He was a self proclaimed EDM expert and enthusiast, which caused Kaia to question his instrument choices. They sat there for who knows how long, eventually trading rhythms on different instruments, Kaia on the piano and Charlie on the guitar. “You’re really good at this Kai”

“I normally produce music that my boyfriend writes” she scratch her neck in embarrassment. “The move had us so busy that I’m a little rusty”

“What? If this is what you’re “rusty” is, then I’m excited to see your polished work!” Kaia smiled and stood there awkwardly, not fully knowing how to accept his compliment. “Kai, you should really give your music a chance”

“I’ll think about it” she smiled. “Say, was there a reason why you bursted into my garage?” It was now Charlie’s turn to blush and Kaia giggled in return.

“Oh yeah, I was going to invite you and your boyfriend for a barbeque tomorrow evening. Think you’d like to come?” he wiggled his eyebrows making Kaia laugh.

“We’ve got plans. Thanks” both were startled at the introduction of a new voice. Kaia’s boyfriend stood at the garage door entrance, arms crossed and unimpressed.

“Ty, this is Charlie, our neighbour. Charlie, this is Tyler, my boyfriend” Kaia quickly made her way to her boyfriend, explaining the situation.

“Nice to meet you man” Charlie smiled and extended his hand, but Tyler just looked at it until Charlie took it back. He muttered a soft ‘okay then’ and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to invite you and Kai over for dinner tomorrow night. My roommates would love to meet you guys”

“It’s Kaia, and thanks but no thanks. Like I said, we have plans” Kaia stood silently beside her boyfriend, fidgeting with her sleeve. She held one arm across her body and was squeezing her other arm, but cleared her throat to break the tension.

“Thanks for the visit. I’ll see you around Charlie” this time Kaia’s smile was a genuine one, but by the look on Charlie’s face, she knew he was growing suspicious. She was grateful that he didn’t push the topic, but she knew that his hesitation wouldn’t go unnoticed by her boyfriend.

What is it with you and this guy? We were just collaborating on mixing. You mix for me Kaia. Don’t let someone take advantage of you. He wasn’t taking advantage of me. He was helping me. Helping? It sounds like shit. You better get your head in the game for my next EP. ... Babe, you know I only want you to be the best right? I know. I love you. ... I love you too.

If another person screamed at her today, Kaia was sure that she would lose it. She felt exhausted and overworked. Living in LA was proving to be pricey and she was the only one who was able to find work between the two of them. Between working two jobs and producing late into the evenings, Kaia felt like she was reaching her limit.

“Good evening! Can I start you guys with something to drink?” Kaia fished for her notepad and pen in her apron, fiddling around for a moment.

“Kai?” she recognized the voice immediately and finally found her things. Charlie sat at the table she was waiting along with two other people.

“I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me Charlie” she joked, smoothing out her hair and uniform. She suddenly felt more aware and conscious of her appearance.

“Sounds like Charlie” the female interrupted, earning a shove from the male. The blonde across from Charlie stifled a chuckle at the interaction. “I’m Hannah, I live with Charlie”

“And this is Owen” he introduced and Kaia gave a kind smile back. “I didn’t know you worked here! I thought you worked at the Starbucks?” she noticed Owen and Hannah give each other a look about Charlie’s observation.

“Yeah, I work at Starbucks in the morning and here in the evenings” she blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Not all of us make a living off of Netflix contracts” she winked. “What can I get you guys?”

The playful banter continued on through the night and Kaia continued to wait their table, along with the many other tables she had. Kaia got to know Owen and Hannah pretty well that night and genuinely enjoyed their company. Since moving to LA, she had been working so much that she hadn’t even made friends in the three months she had been there. So naturally, after her shift, she sat down with their table and got them free dessert just to hang out. They were having such a good time that she lost track time.

“Hey Kaia! Your boyfriend’s calling” Kaia paled at the closing manager’s announcement and she politely excused herself from the table, telling the manager she’d take the call in the office. As Kaia sat in the office, quiet tears streamed down her face as her boyfriend chastised her over the phone. Her closing manager comforted her quietly, knowing the intricacies of her situation. Once Kaia was sure she was composed, she returned to her table of friends, surprised that they still waited around for her.

“Thanks for the company tonight! I’ll see you guys around?” The looks they gave each other didn’t go unnoticed by Kaia. However, they didn’t say anything and bid her farewell.

“Hey Kaia?” she paused and turned around, a soft smile on her face, and Charlie standing at the edge of his table. “You know you can talk to me right?” Kaia bit her lip, hesitant for her next move. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress the tears that were surfacing.

“I’m just tired is all” but a tear slipped down her face, which she quickly wiped away. Charlie pulled her in for a hug and Kaia melted into it. She couldn’t remember feeling this warmth for a long time and quite frankly, she felt at peace. The flickering of the car lights in the parking lot pulled her attention from the comfort of Charlie’s arms. “I have to go” she whispered and left, not bearing to look at Charlie and the rest.

I don’t like him. Don’t hang around him anymore. He’s my only friend here. Then make a new one. How? Between working two jobs and mixing your music, I have no time. Don’t pin this on me. Stop whining and figure it out. ... I’m just protecting you. He’ll take advantage of you. ... Now who’s my girl? I am. And who’s everything that you’ll ever need. ... Kaia. You are. Don’t forget that.

“That’ll be $4.95”

“I’ll pay. Could you add on a donut too? Thanks”

The next time Kaia saw Charlie was a few weeks after the diner incident. Kaia didn’t actually see Charlie, but rather Charlie saw Kaia and couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to her. Judging by his outfit, she assumed that he was on his usual morning run. She felt nervous about him appearing from nowhere and offering to buy her coffee, especially since the last time they talked it was awkward.

“You didn’t have to do that Charlie.” she smiled and thanked him with her eyes. She fiddled with her zip up collar and hair.

“It’s nothing. Wanna grab a table? Maybe in a more secluded and private area?” she nodded thinking that his specificity in seating had to do with the recent release of a Netflix show he starred on that was gaining popularity. So she settled for a table tucked away in the corner of the shop. Charlie followed along soon after with her coffee and his donut.

“Thanks again. How was your run?” Charlie shrugged as he took a bite of his donut.

“Same as always, except this time I get to see you” Kaia blushed at his beautiful smile. He was good looking and from their exchanges, she had gotten to know he was genuinely a good guy. “You like to hike?”

She couldn’t understand what it was, but Charlie had a way of making her feel comfortable and safe. As they chatted about the many hiking places and how often Charlie went, Kaia could see the excitement in his eyes. Their conversation naturally divulged into hobbies and things they had been up to. The two laughed and chatted, both of them wishing that they could stay in each other’s company. It was exactly what she needed.

“I haven’t been hearing you mix lately. The neighbourhood sounds quiet”

“Nothing I’ve come up with sounds good” she stated sheepishly, flushed at the fact that Charlie had noticed.

“Oh come on, I’m sure you’re being hard on yourself. You’re extremely talented, and I’m not saying that just to be nice or anything!” Charlie leaned in as he said this, and Kaia could tell that he truly meant what he was saying.

“No, it’s always garbage when I try to mix on my own” Charlie frowned at this much to Kaia’s dismay, and he sat back in his seat, looking slightly annoyed. Kaia felt her pulse quicken, feeling like she had disappointed him in some way.

“Is that what he tells you?” Kaia was about to drink her coffee, but that comment caught her off guard. She tensed, knowing where this conversation could go and where she didn’t want it to go. “I’m sorry, I just...”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything” she assured him, setting her cup down and a small awkward silence filling the empty space. “I get that you care Charlie, but everything’s fine”.

“You don’t have to lie to me Kai” she avoided his gaze knowing that he would see right through her when she melted under his stare. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but if what I think is happening, is happening, then you need to leave” she bit her lip again, stopping herself from confessing the truth to Charlie.

“Nothing’s happening Charlie. We’ve just been going through a rough patch. I’m fine, really” she hoped to god that she sounded convincing enough for Charlie to drop the topic. Nervous for his response, she glanced down at her phone and noticed the 15 missed calls. To add, they had been sitting in that coffee shop chatting for 2 hours. Kaia always came to Tyler’s defence, as Charlie wasn’t the first one to voice his concerns. Tyler was sweet and loving, but he often got jealous or irritated. However, it was always emphasized that Kaia crossed the lines that triggered Tyler and that he never acted irrationally.

“Thanks for the chat Charlie.” She smiled at him, taking the last sip of the liquid in her cup. “It was nice getting to know you more”. She could see Charlie hesitate, knowing he didn’t want the conversation to end. She secretly wanted the same thing as his, but she felt guilty for feeling this way.

In their various exchanges and in their conversation today, Kaia felt more and more attracted to Charlie. He was so kind and always interested in the person he was talking to. He empathized and expressed compassion in a way that Kaia had never experienced before. If she wasn’t with Tyler, she could see herself with Charlie and that made her feel horrible. She tried over and over again to convince herself that Charlie was nothing but a friend, when really she wanted more. Tyler loved her and only wanted the best for her, yet here she was wishing Charlie was in Tyler’s place instead.

“You don’t have to be with someone that makes you feel the way you do” Charlie held Kaia’s hand across the table. “I know you might feel like you’re trapped, but you don’t have to be. You have a way out” Kaia quickly wiped away the tear that escaped her eyes, but Charlie wiped away the second one. The two sat in silence as Kaia quietly let a few more tears escape, but it was only a matter of time that Kaia would find herself in Charlie’s arms crying steadily, but still silently, until there was nothing left. When Kaia was sure she was done, Charlie pulled away to give her an encouraging smile and squeezed her arm.

That’s when Kaia kissed him.

In her mind, it all happened so fast. One moment, she was trying to protect Tyler, the next moment she was wishing Tyler was Charlie. That’s what led her to kiss him and Charlie to kiss her back. The two pulled apart, speechless and slightly out of breath, but Kaia didn’t stay long enough to get a response. She quickly grabbed her things and left Charlie to rush out after her. She kept walking despite his calls after her.

That kiss confirmed what Kaia had been trying to deny for a long time now. It confirmed that she didn’t want to be with Tyler anymore. It confirmed that she hadn’t wanted to be with him for a long time. She hasn’t loved him for a long time and it took someone else to help her realize there was love outside of Tyler. However, leaving Tyler wouldn’t be so easy. She tried many times, but there was always a reason as to why she never left. Unfortunately, that reason as of late had been fear.

“Kai! Kaia! Would you just stop for a second?!” Charlie chased after her, ignoring the various stares that were casted their way. A car pulled up beside her on the street and she paused to get in. Kaia looked back at him regretfully, tears falling from her eyes again, before opening the door and being pulled in. Charlie was left on the side of the street, left wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.

You’re so stupid, why can’t you think? I’m sorry. Yeah, well sorry isn’t good enough! What did I tell you about him?! I’m sorry. Is that all you can say?! Tyler, stop, you’re hurting me. I’m hurting you?! What about what you’re doing to me?! You’re so selfish Kaia. ... This is what I get for everything that I’ve given you?! ...I’m sorry. Just shut up.

Kaia quit her jobs the next day at Tyler’s request. His reasoning was that Kaia couldn’t be trusted outside of the house, so it would be better for her to pick up some work from home jobs. It didn’t help that he had found a printed bank statement with information about how much Kaia had in her savings, something he didn’t hesitate to use against her.

If she was being honest, she felt absolutely awful and was quietly thankful that she was able to quit her jobs. It meant that she didn’t have to leave home, something that she was hoping for more and more. Kaia was riddled with guilt that deep down, she saw Charlie as more than a friend and that she kissed him, despite being in a relationship with Tyler. She reasoned that she was being unfaithful to Tyler, especially after everything he did for her back in Vancouver. Sure, she handled the financials, but Tyler showed her a whole new world that she never dreamed of getting access to. He introduced her to Canadian producers and artists, got her more involved in the music scene and he loved her. Tyler was her first everything! First kiss, first boyfriend, first time... He loved her. She was sure of it.

Or was she?

“She’ll have a water and a margherita pizza and I’ll have the tuscan with a coke” Kaia felt him squeeze her arm and she did her best not to flinch. He had insisted that he sat beside her whenever they dined out so that he could be closer to her, but his rough advances were uncomfortable, especially with the bruises. She sat there in silence staring off to space as they sat on the outdoor patio.

He had been lashing out more lately and sometimes Kaia got in the way. He didn’t target her for his aggression, it was rather that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She didn’t dare tell a single soul. Not her friends back home, not her family, no one. That would prompt them to check on her more and more, something that she really didn’t want. She wanted to be left alone. Tyler had grown obsessive of knowing what she was doing at every moment. He held her phone from her and everywhere he went, she came along too. She was rarely left home alone. Had Tyler become toxic? Yes.

Had he been toxic for a while? Well...

In truth, Kaia wanted to break things off a few months into their dating, but he’d always find a way to convince her otherwise. At some point, Kaia stopped questioning his off behaviour or quips and accepted it as that was who he was. She convinced herself that at his core the Tyler she fell for was still there and that right now he had all the reasons to be the way he was. Life as a musician was stressful, especially when you hadn’t made it into the industry.

Kaia was pulled out of her thoughts as the waitress placed their orders down in front of them. Immediately, Tyler began portioning out her serving on her plate as she quietly sipped on her water.

“Can you look any more miserable Kaia? Jesus” he scoffed, shoving her serving in front of her. “If you’re going to be this miserable out and about, I might as well leave you at home” she ate her slice in silence, not entertaining his comments, knowing that whatever she said would be used against her anyways. His phone began vibrating and he sighed, seemingly conflicted. “I gotta take this inside because it’s too loud out here. Don’t leave until I come back” Kaia nodded softly continuing to chew on her slice, as he stepped away from the table, out of sight. Her heart began to race when she noticed he left her phone behind.

This is it. This is your chance out Kaia. Don’t think. Just do it.

She snatched the phone and quickly pin dropped her location with the word ‘HELP’, to the one person she knew she could count on. Quickly, she deleted the text and put her phone back, not wanting to be caught near it. She prayed that he would see her text and she prayed that he would be able to help her. As she watched her boyfriend return to the table, she felt her stomach knot and the pizza she consumed rise in her throat.

“Eat your food or people are going to think I’m making you starve or some shit” he scoffed sitting down beside her and continuing to eat. He didn’t notice anything.

“I’m not hungry anymore” she smiled at him, slightly pushing her plate away. He pushed it back to her.

“I don’t care. I don’t want people thinking I’m treating you poorly” she stiffly grabbed her half eaten slice and when she was nearly done, he put another one on her plate. In the distance, she saw the familiar orange subaru parallel park. Her heart rate increased.

“Thank you. Was that phone call good news?” Kaia knew that the number one thing Tyler liked was talking about himself and his accomplishment. She turned to face him more and tried her best to look really engaged in the conversation, despite her sweaty palms and pounding heart. She was grateful that his back was facing the inside of the restaurant and he turned to face her too, telling her about the exec who was interested in meeting him and listening to his work. She nodded and replied appropriately, but she couldn’t tell you what more he said. Kaia was too focused on the scene in the restaurant unfolding. She watched as Charlie walked in and explained the situation to the hostess who then called over what looked like the manager. The three of them stood in discussion as a police officer entered the restaurant as well, pointing to their table. Her stomach sank as she watched the officer and Charlie leave, but she did her best to keep her eyes focused, only looking at the background when he went for a bite or a drink.

The waitress made her way over and asked how their meal was or if there was anything that she could get for them. Kaia shook her head no and Tyler did as well, but she dropped off napkins, tapping them lightly and looking at Kaia directly. She took it as a sign that the napkins had something important, so she intentionally took a messy bite of pizza, to wipe her face. Too bad Tyler got to the napkin first. Wiping his mouth, he noticed a smudge mark of ink on the napkin and Kaia immediately knew she was done for. His face changed in an instant and he glared at her, throwing cash onto the table.

“Get up.”

“But I’m not done-”

“I said, Get. Up.” Kaia did as she was told and Tyler grabbed her arm, not caring at who was staring. She started to walk, but it wasn’t good enough for Tyler as he forced her to his side. “You think you’re so smart? Tipping off the waitress like you’re some prisoner”

“I didn’t-”

“Shut up. You little liar. I’m not hurting you. I’m not forcing you to be here. You can leave, but you don’t because you know that you’re nothing without me” he hissed into her ear as they made their way to the entrance, but the officer stopped them midway. “Can I help you, officer?”

“I just need to ask you some questions outside. Ma’am I’m going to have to ask you to wait inside with the manager” the officer was stern and surely Tyler would comply, but he proved different.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving my girlfriend by herself,” he added, pulling her close.

“Tyler, just do as he says” she winced at the grip he had on her arm, glaring at her.

“Sir, you need to come with me. Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step away from him” Kaia complied but Tyler didn’t, and soon she began to fight him off, struggling for her freedom all the while the police officer was trying to deescalate the situation. She finally slapped him across the face and he splashed a glass of water that was sitting on a table in her face, then throwing the glass at her. The police officer restrained him immediately and dragged him outside, while Kaia was left in the restaurant wet and a bruise starting to form on her cheek bone.

Was this it? Was it over?

She felt a soft warm cloth envelop her shoulders and she was handed a dish rag to try to dry off, but she was still in shock. She was moved to a less populated area of the restaurant, away from any clients and was sat down at a table. That’s when Charlie came running back in. As he rushed over to where she was sitting, she felt her own legs start to move quickly towards him, falling into his embrace. Charlie held her close, comforting her by whispering soothing words into her ears. He moved them to the table she was originally at and sat beside her, holding her while her tears fell and even after. He held her while another police officer approached them to update them on Tyler. He held her as they took down her statement and gave her directions as to what she would do next.

“Here is the address to the temporary apartment we will have you stay in. Do you have a vehicle or need transportation” Kaia read the address on the paper, but before she could speak up, Charlie did.

“Kai, I can drive you if you want. I can even help you get things that you need from your place” he smiled gently at her and cautiously, knowing that she was still in shock and overwhelmed.

“You’ll have a police escort on the premise if you would like to return home to grab a few things” Kaia looked at Charlie searching his eyes for some sort of sign that he was as hurtful as Tyler.

“I’ll let him drive me back and forth, thank you.” her voice sounded slightly croaky, probably from her crying. The officer notified them that she could give them 10 minutes before they had to leave. They would follow Charlie’s car to her house and escort her around to grab what she needed. From there, she would be followed to her temporary residence, until the courts could come to a conclusion about her situation. As the officer stepped away, Kaia took a deep breath and let out a big sigh.

“Thank you Charlie”

“I should be thanking you. What you did was hard, but it was the right thing to do. I’m always here for you, however you need me” He kissed her hand that he held and pulled her in for another hug. For the first time, in a long time, Kaia felt something she didn’t know she was missing.

Loved.

A/N: Look out for part 2!

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #fanfiction #imagine #imagines

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edmorrish · 3 years

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Sound Heap

I’m launching a new podcast and I’m really excited about it. It’s called Sound Heap and the idea is that John-Luke Roberts hosts a selection of clips of the week’s best podcasts. All of these podcasts are, of course, made up.

https://podfollow.com/1569675977

John-Luke improvised the podcasts with over thirty different comedians, each of whom would do ten-minute excerpts of half a dozen different ideas over the course of an hour on Zoom*. We then took those recordings and whittled them down to just the absolute gold, and put a voiceover over the top to tie it all together and contextualise it. Paddy Gervers and Rob Sell at Torch & Compass wrote us some jingles and a theme (the rest of the music is from the Epidemic music library), and we made it sound like a real podcast - we’ve made the chatcasts sound like chatcasts, the documentaries sound like documentaries, and so on.

What’s exciting is that blend of the loose, spontaneous comedy and the tight, edited production. It’s a best-of-both-worlds, cake-and-eat-it approach that allows funny people - people like Mark Watson, Josie Long, Kevin Eldon, Katherine Parkinson, Bilal Zafar, Sooz Kempner - to just be funny, while also taking out the thinking-out-loud footsteps that are sometimes necessary in improv to get from one good bit to the next.

Podcasting has overtaken Radio 4 as the dominant home of UK audio comedy, in volume at least, but the BBC still sets a benchmark that independent podcasts can struggle to match, for fairly obvious reasons; a Radio 4 comedy with a budget of ten thousand pounds an episode can afford actors and studios and sound designers, of course, but also to pay writers and producers for the time to think and craft the programmes. Few independent productions can match that for resources and cut their cloth accordingly - sitting and chatting with a friend for an hour and cutting out the dull bits doesn’t take as much time, effort, or resource as writing a sitcom or sketch show, rehearsing it, recording it, and editing it. And even the resources that come from the BBC (or Audible) don’t particularly speed up the time it takes to do that, which is why single-authored audio comedy runs in series of four to six episodes every twelve to eighteen months.

Sound Heap attempts to bridge that gap; we asked very little time of our guest comedians, no more than they’d take to do an interview podcast. And they did no prep - we emailed them the titles of the podcasts we were thinking of doing the day before but they were under no obligation to think about it until John-Luke started the “podcast”. But then we did what we’d do for a funded production - whittled and edited and mixed. (We received funding from the lovely people at Auddy which meant that everyone got paid, but we would have done it anyway; it would just have been Paddy and Rob making music when they had time, as a favour, rather than us being able to pay them. And it meant that John-Luke and I were able to fence off time to make it, rather than squeeze it in between paid jobs; as I said, the main thing a budget buys you is time). I think there are lots of very good funny-people-chat podcasts, but they’re not a particularly adventurous form of audio, and having grown up on the produced silliness of The Goon Show and The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, it’s been brilliant to find a format that allows for that sort of structure and sound design to be placed on afterwards.

I keep telling people, “I can’t think of anything like this”, and I stand by that. The sheer range of voices means we’re not asking you to suspend disbelief and accept a comedian as two different characters (apart from John-Luke, and we are asking you to suspend your disbelief in other ways...). And that allows us to jump from parody documentary to parody chatcast to parody solocast, with sound design accurate to the genre, in a way that provides maximum variety - it’s a sketch show! - in a way that’s quite rare. But as I was typing this, I was thinking of something Armando Iannucci said to me when I interviewed him for a documentary, about how when he joined the BBC Radio Light Entertainment department**, there was a sort of “set” way of making radio comedy:

“One or two people went into a room and wrote something - they were probably men - and they would come out with a script, and a producer would say ‘Oh, very nice, very nice’ - I hated that phrase, ‘nice’, in my head that meant ‘not funny’... A studio would be booked for two or three hours, and actors would come in and read out the words from the page, and then sound effects would be added, or indeed played in live, if someone had access to a horse or anything like that nearby. And then if it was a thirty-minute programme, maybe they’d record thirty-one minutes to be on the safe side, and then they’d cut things down.”

- Armando Iannucci, The Frequency of Laughter, 2014.

That way of making radio comedy is only sustainable with a budget. For people trying to make things without the backing of a commissioner, you need to find ways to do things for, essentially, free. This limits the amount time you have, and the creativity that you have time to apply. And then I remembered what Armando went on to say, immediately after that, in the same show:

“...so On The Hour was a sort of reaction to that. It was a kind of experiment in looking at doing what was fundamentally a sketch show, but seeing if we could do it in a different way so that it didn’t sound like all those sketch shows. So it was about, if we were recording a thing that was meant to sound like a news report, actually recording it like a news report, which is get three or four people to play the parts of different characters, give them the gist of the funny stuff they’re meant to say but ask them to say it in their own words, have someone ask them questions, and so on. So you end up recording about an hour and a half of these three interviews, and then, like any news editor, going away and cutting that hour and half of stuff down to a report that lasted three or four minutes. It was asking, ‘what is the style of the joke we’re trying to tell would it be improved if we did it in that style?’.“

- Armando Iannucci, The Frequency of Laughter, 2014.

So, in trying to create a new production style that straddles the low-fi independent production methods of making original audio in 2021 and the high standards set by the greatest of audio comedy down the years... we’ve ended up copying a Radio 4 show from 1991.

Sound Heap is available wherever you get your podcasts; the first episode is out next Wednesday, 2nd June.

*Actually Cleanfeed, but we used Zoom so they had eye contact.

**My former employers.

#sound heap #podcast #comedy #john-luke roberts #armando iannucci #on the hour #sketch comedy #audio #radio 4

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Happiness Is

This is possibly my favorite episode of season two. Yet, it is also the point the where the series starts to fall off a cliff. Only that’s not something that you would realize upon a first watch; just in hindsight and only with some basic knowledge of the behind the scenes drama that led to this and the fall out with the fandom that followed afterwards.

Summary: Rapunzel begins to feel homesick for Corona when she finds an old letter written by her father in one of the many lanterns sent from her previous birthdays. In attempts to uplift her spirits, Rapunzel explores the island and comes across a magical idol that brings instant happiness to whomever possesses it. Rapunzel begins to hallucinate her family and friends back in Corona and soon shares the idol with the rest of the group. However, everyone starts to become obsessive over the idol, desperately wanting it for themselves. Rapunzel tricks everyone into giving her the idol, but when the Lorbs try to help Rapunzel, they fall under the idol's control and soon begin to terrorize the village.

Let’s Start with the First Elephant in the Room; Frederic

So throughout the episode Rapunzel is struggling with being homesick. Which is fair enough, that’s an understable reaction to being on the road for months by now. However, to showcase this Rapunzel keeps seeing hallucinations of her father. There are some other characters too, but her dad is the first person she sees and the only one in Corona with speaking lines. He’s the one to tempt her with the idol.

Did we just forget that Frederic is her abuser?

Look, even if you accept his apology in Secret of the Sundrop and believe he has learned his lesson, that doesn’t just erase the pain he caused her. Her thoughts about her father should be more realistically complex then this. Now add in how she makes a such a clean break from her other abuser, Gothel, but still holds him on a pedestal shows a disturbing bias on the part of the writers.

Also where’s this love for Arianna? You know the only real mother on the show? The show that’s aimed at little girls? The one parent who hasn’t flat out abused the main character yet?

Seriously, Chris, what the fuck?

This is a Missed Opportunity

So part of the reason why I like this episode is that we get insights into each of the characters and their desires. As such this is one of the few episodes where the group actual feels like a group friends. However, Cass’s vision is wasted here.

So at first glance this seems to aline with what we know of the character thus far. She loves her dad and wishes to impress him. That’s only if you take season one into account, though. Later episodes will contradict this goal. If you wanted to set up praise and validation in general as Cassandra’s motives, then here is where that should have happened.

Show her getting a medal, have cheering crowds surround her, have her be a hero, or something. You can’t claim her relationship with her parents as the driving force of behind her later actions if you don’t actually involve one of those parents as part of the resolution to her arc.

Either she lacking attention from her dad or she’s jealous of Rapunzel. You can’t have it be both because those two things don’t intersect. Rapunzel is not and never was a threat to her relationship with her father.

So Umm...I Don’t Think This Plot Point Has the Impact That the Writers Think It Does

So this hilarious, and it is intended to be funny, but it’s not for the reasons that the show gives.

The idea is that this is some shocking revelation. That Rapunzel would never do this under normal circumstances and it’s a hint that the idol is corrupting her.

Only the rest of the series doesn’t aline with that at all. This is just the real Rapunzel behaving as the she normally would but without the usual veneer of excuses.

It’s funny because it’s the show calling out Rapunzel hypocrisy for what it is plainly, not because it’s out of character.

But funny only gets you so far. The show is perfectly happy to play up Rapunzel’s awfulness for laughs, but then conventily ignore it when it comes time for the characters themselves to call her out on it so that she can grow and learn.

The show runs under the sitcom idea that comedy excuses all sins; which then backfires horribly when it tries to be serious and mature.

You can’t joke that the king threw a random person in a stockade for little reason and then expect us to still like him when he persecutes a child. Same applies here.

The sitcom set up only works when there is minimal at stake and all parties involved are equally awful in their own ways.

Then Why Not Just Go Home?

Once again, there’s nothing at stake in season two. Rapunzel has no real reason to be on this trip. Nothing is stopping her from just going home if that’s what she wants. The idol only makes her happy because it shows her want she wants, but she could actually have what she wants as soon as the next ship arrives. So what’s the issue here?

This is why you need external conflict in order to make internal conflicts work. There’s has to be something preventing the main character from achieving her goal or otherwise she just comes across as a dumbass.

And Now Here Comes the Second Elephant; Varian

I have several things to talk about here, and none of them actually concern the scene itself but the creator’s treatment of the character and the show’s fan base.

For you see, Chris did a very, very stupid thing.

He wrote the character driving the plot out of the show. The character who also happens to be the most popular person in the series. Only to then use said character’s VA and this one cameo as promotion for this whole season.

Needless to say, fans were disappointed.

However, the Tangled fandom is exceedingly polite; more so than most. The lack of Varian was met mostly with confusion, and maybe a few off handed jokes, rather than anger. When opportunity arose people naturally had questions concerning the character.

And that’s when Chris put his foot in mouth.

This Tumblr post details how Chris got kicked off the Tangled The Series Discord by bullying a bunch of Varian fans while on there.

https://starxapple.tumblr.com/post/617852117763391488/zhantiri-uuugh-fine-since-people-are-getting

I shan’t get into it fully, but for those who discovered the show after season two had aired, this caused a massive backlash from the fandom.

A good chunk of the fandom just walked away, and rightly so. The few that stuck around despite these remarks found themselves harassed by certain sections of the fandom who saw Chris’s bullying as permission to pursue the same behavior. However, most importantly, the ratings plummeted.

Season one hovered around the the 1 million mark, give or take a five point difference. The first part of season two dropped to half of that, and after this episode and the hiatus it sunk even lower, down to the mid-thirties. That’s over 20,000 people who just jumped ship over this. That’s not a normal decline.

No matter what your personal feelings are of the character of Varian or how he was handled in the show, that’s still a massive PR fassico that cost the series big time.

To add to this mountain of bullshit, there was also a massive walk out of crew members after season one had finished production. Most of them women. They even desperately threw out ‘we’re hiring’ calls to cover this. Which given that’s it’s Disney and that nepotism is usually how one gains employment in the entertainment industry, something unusual must have happened behind the scenes. Especially if most of the people who left were women.

We’ll probably never know what really happened. People don't usually talk about behind the scenes stuff like that due to contracts and the aforementioned nepotism. However, all clues point to Varian.

Something changed at the last minute concerning his story. Chris himself had confirmed as much when discussing the note and the Brotherhood. We also gotten other hints that content was edited out at the last minute. Plus the writing becomes more shoddy as the series goes along, showing how slapped dashed everything is together.

Then there’s the rumors.

I must stress to you that this is only a rumor. As pointed out earlier, most animators aren’t in a position to talk freely about what goes on behind the scenes. Do NOT harass them over it or make things awkward by asking them to clarify this. However it’s been suggested that the female crew warned Chris that removing Varian from season two and re-writing his story, along with making Cass the villain, would be a bad idea before they left and Chris didn’t listen. Much to his folly.

Chris is no longer a Disney employee and has yet to move on to any other projects. He says he left, but I more suspect that Disney just didn't renew his contract and no one has picked him up since. I take no joy in the idea that someone may have lost their job, but if true, then Chris has little to blame but himself.

So What Did Change?

We don't know anything for sure. We know from discussions about the note that there was a proposed Brotherhood plot that involved Varian that was then cut. There was also talks about a Cass and Varian team up in season three.

This was then changed to the Saporian take over, which is foreshadowed in this scene. However even that got edited down and under the flimsiest of excuses.

One of the writers, Ricky, suggested that they thought cutting back to Corona would be too confusing for the audience; which is a load of bull. I mean how poorly do you think of your audience’s comprehension skills that they wouldn’t understand a change of scene or a flashback? Yet you fully expect them to pick up on your lazy foreshadowing involving the mirror? So much so that you sent them on a quest to find it between seasons two and three.

Then there’s this gem from Chris.

Ok ignoring the fact that you so totally could have featured both Gothel and Varian, seeing as they serve two different functions in the story and mean different things to Rapunzel.... What guilt?!!!

Rapunzel doesn’t ever act guilty over anything involving her treatment of Varian.

That’s when you realize Chris isn’t talking about her feeling guilty about Varian’s predicament. He’s saying that Rapunzel feels guilty of leaving her father behind with this ‘dangerous’ criminal. Which is a big fuck you to everyone.

That’s why Frederic is the center focus of Rapunzel’s hallucinations. Why she’s more concerned for his safety over Varian’s trauma. Chris really be out here trying to use the abused 14/15 year old orphan as a scapegoat for the grown ass dictator who ruined countless lives. Because he thinks a grown woman should feel guilty for leaving her abusive father behind and pursuing her life’s dream.

Dude, I try not to assume the worst of people just cause they write fictional characters that I dislike, but Chris really makes things hard not to when he treats his self insert this way.

Oh but we’re not done yet.

When Varian Fans Complain About the Lack of Varian; We’re Complaining About the Lack of a Coherent Plot.

Certain sections of the fandom, bolstered by Chris’s BS, try to act like simply being a Varian fan is grounds for dismissal of any criticism of the show and it’s writing. As if having personal preference for something makes you automatically ‘entitled’ or some such bull. Yet doing so ignores the fundamental complaint that they are making.

We’re not whining about our favorite character not getting enough screen time. No one would have complained about his lack of presence in season two if they had properly resolved his story in season three and had Chris not been a dick to the fans. But it becomes evidently clear as the series goes along that removing Varian left a major hole in the plot. One that makes the entire story and the rest of characters suffer as well.

Think season two is boring? That’s cause they cut out their main villain at the last minute and failed to replace him with anything.

Upset that Hookfoot was brought along for zero reason? He’s the replacement character for Varian who no doubt was going to appear in season two originally.

Wish there was more on the Brotherhood and the Dark Kingdom? Their story impact was greatly reduced when Varian was written out.

Are you a Eugene fan and mad about how the Dark Prince plot went nowhere? That’s cause the original Brotherhood/Dark Kingdom plot was dropped when Varian was.

Dislike how Cassandra’s character was ruined with her villain arc? She was originally meant to be possessed but was changed last minute to be a Varian rip-off in the hopes that she would gain some of his popularity.

Wish Zhan Tiri, Demantius, and the Disciples actually went somewhere and that ZT had coherent plan? That plot were changed last minute to make Zhan Tiri a scapegoat for Cassandra now that her story was changed to replace Varian.

And of course let’s not ignore the character who suffers the most from lack of Varian.... Rapunzel.

Chris’s defense for leaving Varian out of S2 is that it’s “Rapunzel’s Story” and that Varian was only ever a plot device meant to push her along on her quest. Which means that Rapunzel no longer has anyone pushing her along on her quest!!!

All characters are plot devices. If they aren’t there to serve a story function then they need to be cut. Even Rapunzel herself serves a plot function. She’s meant to be the protagonist of a coming of age story. Which means she needs both an external conflict to face and an emotional arc where she grows as a person. Varian is the plot device that serves both of those functions but he’s now been removed and is no longer allowed to serve his original purpose.

Chris reached into the machine while it was running and pulled out one of the main gears and acted like he always meant to do that. He legit sat there and pretended that everything was running smoothly even as smoke poured out and warring alarms blared. He then tried to shove bubble gum in its place hoping no one would notice as everything fell apart around him.

Cause he’s the thing; no idea is without merit. It’s all about presentation. Removing Varian from season three still could have worked, but it required A.) replacing him with another foe and B.) making sure his arc still got a proper conclusion.

I’ll talk more about Varian’s half-arsed redemption when we get to it; but for now let's focus on the more immediate problem. No one thought to give season two an actual overarching conflict in light of Varian’s absence.

That’s a fundamental oversight that pretty much signals that season two was re-written at the last minute. You have an overarching plot in an action adventure show but no main adversary? I refuse to believe that everyone involved was too stupid to do that on purpose; but if they were rushed and lacked a crew because they walked out due to last minute story changes....yeah that’d I buy.

Because there’s more than enough options to go around; Lady Caine, The Baron and Styalan, Hector and/or Adria, Zhan Tiri’s Disciples ect. were all options. So was keeping the rocks a threat, or have Cass start her villian arc earlier; with proper motivation this time. They could have even come up with someone entirely new.

You had over four years to plan this shit out; why is it not more well put together?!

How Come Rapunzel Can Easily Admit Fault to Pascal But Not Anyone Else?

Pascal should have sat perched on Varian’s and Eugene’s shoulders giving Rapunzel ‘I’m done with this’ looks all throughout season three. It’s apparently the only thing that she responds to.

Why is the untalkative camelanion the only one allowed to call out the main character’s BS without going villain?

Conclusion

That’s all there really is to talk about in this story. The actual episode itself is good. It’s the behind the scenes crap that bubbles underneath its surface that needed to be discussed. That way when going forward with the marathon you’ll better see what I’m talking about when I explain how future episode suffered from the lack of planning and foresight.

#Varian #tangled #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #cassandra #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #rta #king frederic

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noreasonreally · 3 years

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you know. shit’s been getting real.

(it’s funny bc i feel like that implies hard work, or trying more, or doing better. but i’m just calling off a bunch and letting the chips fall where they may.)

i can’t do retail. i straight up cannot. the thought of it sends me into fight or flight mode, and i forget that i’m not helpless. i re-live the bad feelings, and anticipate people who’ll just expand the bad feelings. i can’t trust myself at this job anymore.

i have four days of work left, and i might not show up to any of them. who knows. i’m struggling to focus today, and the thought of going anywhere made me cry, so obviously i need to cut myself some major slack.

i have to forgive myself for not being able to work retail.

what a strange, multi-layered thing.

the first layer is obviously the fact that my work ethic was how i earned love and respect; i don’t need that coping mechanism anymore, ‘cause it’s doing more harm than good.

the second layer is that other people can work retail, and i’m as good as anyone else, so i should prove my equality by making myself work retail. just the first layer with extra steps, honestly. just the first layer, but with cited sources (ie the words of friendly coworkers telling me the job really isn’t that bad, this is a great place to work, you don’t even have another job lined up, etc.)

the third layer is actually the job part. i don’t have another one lined up and i’m rapidly approaching the end of my time in retail. i mean i have interviews, and chats, and opportunities... fuck. it makes so much more sense to have that sorted out before i leave, but i can’t stay. i can’t. i won’t.

the fourth layer is the big one. the foundation. the bottom line. and it is the belief that if i’m not earning, pushing myself, and making my job my top priority, not only do i not have stability, but it’s my own fault for making things unstable. the belief that it’s my fault i can’t work retail, and i’m not worthy of things getting better or easier.

the truth is that i can’t work retail because i was abused my whole life and i can’t work with a constant flow of angry, deceitful, manipulative customers. i go to a dark place, and i have tried my damnedest to change this reaction, but some things are out of my control.

maybe i’m holding onto this anger because it’s easier to stay mad at myself, than it is to accept that i can’t control my ptsd symptoms.

what a trip.

so i forgive myself for calling off in these last days of my employment at costco. for a corporation, the management there was pretty cool, so i’m not mad at them. but i am more ready to advocate for myself than i was before.

which is another reason i don’t have a job yet - i’m being pickier than i’ve ever been with employment, and i’m shocked that there are still potential jobs within reach. but it’ll take longer to find the right job. and i can forgive myself if that takes longer than 2 weeks to line up.

it’s hard to forgive myself when what i do directly impacts my partner and our life together, too. but ultimately, everything will work out how it needs to. i’ve got a home, a loving partner, a cabinet full of food.

i don’t need to be afraid, or angry. i’m loved and safe exactly where i am. i forgive myself for not magically being perfect; i’m proud of myself for handling things as professionally as i have, lately. i don’t need to hang onto my pride that hard. i can stop trying to impress myself, or others.

i’m enough. even without working retail.

#personal #it's not bad it's just long #lol that's what she said #anyway

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anexplanationofunfortunateevents · 4 years

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BUT HIS [SON’S] [IRRELEVANT AND PROBABLY FAKE] EMAILS!

In a world where people were trying to do their jobs, this story would not make sense to anyone, now or ever. But because we live in the dumbest fucking timeline, you need to know the shape of the Trump cartel’s latest disinformation campaign against the American democratic process.

Former Vice President Biden is being attacked through his family, which means that his family’s story is the vital context here. Back in the ‘70s, when he was Senator-Elect Biden, his family was in a terrible car crash. His first wife and their young daughter were killed. His sons Beau and Hunter survived, though Hunter suffered a traumatic head injury. The boys went about 80% Parent Trap to convince their dad to marry his current wife Jill, and both grew up and went to law school. Beau became the attorney general of Delaware before dying of cancer in 2015. Hunter went on to a lucrative career in the private sector despite an intermittent struggle with substance abuse, which is a common aftereffect of psychological trauma and brain injuries.

Republicans generally believe that being a Yale Law grad with a wealthy father and a history of substance abuse qualifies someone for the Supreme Court, but for some deeply principled and intellectually honest reason, they have decided that Hunter Biden’s employment in the field of transportation and energy can only be a sign of spectacular corruption. So nefarious and sinister was the Biden family’s treachery that they managed to destroy every iota of evidence before multiple investigations by Senate Republicans could find any of it!

Obviously this little tabloid narrative was derailed when Trump went and got his dumb ass impeached over it. But it’s the middle of October, Trump’s down ten points in the polls, and he made the mistake of replacing the wildly unethical FBI director who threw the last election for him with a guy who at least knows to act professional, so he’s looking for a Hail Mary pass. In the wackiest of coincidences, some random Trumper had what he says might be Hunter Biden’s various hard drives, one of which apparently contained a backup of his most sensitive videos and text messages, in his computer repair shop. Of course this man did the only sensible thing and, uh, copied every file in the drives one at a time before bringing it to Trump’s TV lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, and then the FBI. Giuliani, who was a former federal prosecutor before becoming the former mayor of New York City and current new bestie of Random Tech Store Guy, handled this situation with the assistance of someone who has a mere “50/50 chance” of being a Russian agent. (Poor old Rudy does appear to have limited communication skills beyond his personal safe space of a noun, a verb, and 9/11.) It’s unclear to me whether Giuliani or Tech Store Guy was the one who shared the hard drives with Steve Bannon, the white supremacist propagandist and former Trump campaign manager who is currently under indictment for fraud.

As with a lot of Trump trash, it’s impossible to describe without sounding like you’re exaggerating for comedic effect, but the stakes are too high for any of it to be funny.

Over the weekend, a right wing tabloid published what it said were emails from one of Hunter’s laptops. (Reporters at that particular tabloid do not believe the story.) The emails don’t show any wrongdoing by the vice president and seem fake for a lot of reasons – but never mind, the bullshit laundering worked well enough to get some supposed actual reporter to harass Vice President Biden about it, and then a bunch of other supposed actual reporters to collapse into their fainting couches when Biden responded with appropriate impatience.

That apparently didn’t have the hoped-for effect. The next day, what appeared to be a series of highly emotional text exchanges between the vice president and his son appeared. There was nothing even vaguely scandalous in these, to a point where it’s not immediately obvious why anyone would bother publishing them. My best guess is that it’s meant to throw Biden off his stride by trying to hurt and humiliate his son, though it may also be an attempt to soften the ground for an even more theatrical reveal.

A lot of Very Serious Politics-Knowers have deluded themselves that the But Her Emails debacle of 2016 was the legitimate kernel of a story that was “blown out of proportion.” But Her Emails was about people a) having some degree of misogyny, conscious or unconscious, which led to a bias against Clinton and b) wanting to tell other people and/or themselves that it wasn’t because she was a woman. They understand that the But Her Emails-ing was a) enormously consequential and b) incredibly dumb. They don’t want to think too hard about that tension, because if they did, they’d have to take responsibility for how the dumb thing became so consequential.

Meanwhile, Trump campaign insiders know better than the rest of us how much they cheated in 2016, but they’re still people and therefore susceptible to the cognitive bias that they got what they wanted because they earned it somehow. The closest thing they had to an above-board strategy was yelling “emails!!” a lot, so they expect yelling “emails!!” to be successful again. They’re just desperately throwing pasta to see what sticks – but Joe Biden is a man, so they’re throwing it at the theory of relativity instead of the refrigerator door.

There are differences between 2020 and 2016 which are significantly less depressing. Trump’s co-conspirators are resorting to ridiculous methods because so many of the key players who made the 2016 operation work are actually facing punishment for some of their crimes. Paul Manafort is under house arrest. Wikileaks guy Julian Assange is in jail. Social media companies, especially Twitter, were prepared to slam the brakes. Some mainstream reporters have refused to learn their lesson from 2016, but others were prepared to be critical. And, I cannot emphasize this last one enough, voters are more prepared for it. So Team Trump isn’t as good at doing the crimes as they were four years ago, even if they were as good at it they wouldn’t be able to use traditional and social media as effectively as they did last time, and even if they could adjust to that they’d have a harder time manipulating us. Maybe it got frustrating and boring for you to hear and talk about the 2016 attack for years on end, but the whole point of that was that we needed to be ready for exactly this scenario. So far, it seems to be working better than I would have hoped.

Obviously, this is infuriating. All else aside, putting this enormous, invasive pressure on a private citizen’s mental health and substance abuse problems is abusive and gross and genuinely dangerous. I don’t give a shit who his dad is, it’s fucking evil. We need to be ready to remember everybody involved in pushing this story – not just the con artists behind it, but the “mainstream” reporters who validated it in their behavior toward the Biden campaign or who spread what were (allegedly) entirely personal text messages of no news value.

But first, we need to win next month. On that front, I want to reiterate what I said when they first started cooking up this story late last year: it’s actually encouraging that they’re resorting to something like this, because it means they’re flailing. They haven’t been able to make FBI Director Wray abuse his power in the way former Director Comey did, despite the fact that the only real tool they had to manipulate Comey four years ago was taunting and pressure from conservative media. They don’t have a cutout like Wikileaks to launder the documents for them. Most importantly, they’re trying to influence voters’ opinions of Biden because they think voters’ behavior still matters. The only thing Trump knows in life is how to get away with a scam. If they thought they had it “rigged” they would be trying to act normal, because spending the three weeks before a heist reminding your marks of what fucking criminals you are doesn’t help you get away with it.

One last thing: this is a less obvious reason why it’s important to vote as early as you can. All these other increasingly desperate stunts depend on the ability to overwhelm everyone all at once, without enough time for them to be debunked or brought back into proportion. The more early votes are in the bank, the less effective their next stink bomb can be, and if it can’t be effective, there are a lot of people around Trump who would rather save their own asses from prison than help him throw it.

#trump russia #disinformation #joe biden #election 2020

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #358

“i know the pieces fit, ‘cuz i watched them fall away”

Would you ever own a Great Dane as a pet? Oh Lord, my mom wants one so bad. She looooves big dogs. I wouldn't, though. I don't want another dog, period. What was or is your favorite quality about your recent ex? Her resilience, strength, creativity, loyalty, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. lol. Have you ever witnessed a human being giving birth in real life? No, and I NEVER fucking will. What about an animal? Yeah, cats. What kind of things do you enjoy reading about on sites like Wikipedia? I sometimes do that for straightening out game plots after watching a let's play if I have remaining questions. Wikipedia tends to do well with compressing it. Which country’s cuisine that you haven’t tried, would you be interested in sampling? (e.g. Moroccan, Thai etc.) I wouldn't know because I'm not educated enough on foreign cuisines. What’s the last movie you watched on your own? The Shining, I think, forever ago. Fried, poached, boiled or scrambled eggs? Scrambled. Have you ever got into a club, whilst being underage? I've never tried. Are you happy with your relationship with God, or do you want more from it? I don't have one. Do you struggle with boredom? Very, very severely. I have absolutely awful anhedonia; I'm pretty much constantly bored. Literally. I just... find things to pass the time, even if I'm not really enjoying myself. What famous person do you wish you could be friends with? I'm going to assume here you don't mean a significant other, because uh... y'all been known lmaooo. I would really love to be friends with Gab Smolders (I know that's not her real name, just using her YT name), because we have very similar interests. As well, Suzie Hanson is a fucking SWEETHEART. I miss her channel. :( At some point I want to purchase some stuff from her store to support the darling. Man, thinking of this question, there's really a lot. What would you do if you were famous? Hate it, haha. Do you wish you hair were shorter or longer? It's at a fine length right now. What photo editing website or software do you use? Lightroom and Photoshop. What hair color looks best on you and what’s your natural color? I think my hair looked best black. It's naturally brown. What is your favorite show to watch? Meerkat Manor. It is so, so comforting to me. Are your maternal/parental instincts strong? Not with kids, oddly enough. I've only ever really encountered strong protective instincts with significant others like when they're sick or something like that. In school, do you/did you work better by yourself or in a group? I absolutely worked better alone. I hated group work. Do you know anyone who has a collection of old records? My mom did, once upon a time. I feel like I know someone who does now... but idk. Do you go on any forums often? Just RP ones. Would you ever agree to an open relationship with someone? Nnnnope. Do people always say you’re too thin? Uh, I have the opposite problem. Could you design a whole web page yourself? Not from scratch, no. I've only done so on free sites that give you the bare bones and easy editing. Have you ever cooked an entire dinner for your family? Definitely not. Do you prefer piano music or violin music? Ohhhh, both are beautiful, but I have to say violin. Who do you tend to get in fights with the most? My mom, I guess, not that we fight a lot. Are you attracted to spooky and macabre things naturally? YEP. Have you ever bobbed for apples? Were you successful? No. It's disgusting if you're going after others, and besides, I HATE water up my nose and have never quite figured out how to block it out without plugging it. Hypothetically speaking, if you had a child [too young to make their own decisions], what would you dress him/her up as for Halloween? It would depend on what their interests were. Do you intend to take your children trick-or-treating, if ever you have any? I'm not having kids, but if I did, I definitely would if they wanted to go. What is the coolest jack-o-lantern you have ever seen? Now THAT'S hard, I really don't know. What was your favorite candy to get from trick-or-treating? What about your least favorite? Reese's was my favorite, and I never liked Tootsie Rolls. Did you ever receive anything that wasn’t candy? Maybe? I feel like I have... Have you ever carved a really extensive pumpkin, or were they always simple carvings? Yes; I once carved a pumpkin with a raven design with "and quoth the raven, 'nevermore'" written into the back. The raven wasn't just a flat cut-out, but rather carved in layers so the light came through differently at certain depths. Are you more interested in cute, funny, “sexy”, or scary costumes? For myself, absolutely the scary ones. In general though, I'm not gonna BS ya, I love me some sexy costumes, haha, but also still scary and particularly gory ones. Have you ever intimidated or made another person feel legitimately threatened? If not, do you think that you could ever be seen as scary? I seriously hate admitting this, but Mom has confessed that my yelling has scared her before when scolding our former dog that I fucking hated. In what ways do you or would you need to be validated by a partner? (For example, liking your posts/talking about you on social media, or perhaps by doting on your with gifts.) I absolutely need words of affirmation. I just need to hear a lot that you do still like/love me. Also, if you're unwilling to actually act like we're a couple in front of ANYONE, like you're ashamed of me or something, byyyyeeee. Do you tend to succeed by weaning yourself off of something or by quitting cold turkey? It depends, I guess. Is there a specific type of pet breed/size/etc. that you don’t want? Why not? Any that have underlying medical issues, like pugs, spider ball pythons, Persian cats, etc. etc... It's just a moral thing; I don't want to support the deliberate continuation of poor genes in animals for human monetary gain. It's just wrong to me. Away from breeds, I also don't really want free-roaming animals after my cat passes, because I don't want to endanger the reptiles and invertebrates I want as pets in the future. Have you ever lived in a notoriously dangerous area? If not, would it bother you to do so? I grew up in one, yes. I never want to again. Has a friend’s significant other ever interfered with or damaged your friendship? What about a significant other of yours damaging a friendship? No. What, if anything, is something that you put pressure on yourself about? What do you imagine would happen if you did not live up to this expectation? Getting a job nowadays. I do NOT want to imagine what my life will be like if I never find employment. If you have been in a serious relationship, have you and your partner ever discussed lifetime plans that clashed? Did you reconcile them or did you break up? If you have not been in a relationship, what are some issues that would be deal-breakers? This hasn't happened, no. If you were offered to smoke some weed right now would you accept? Honestly, I want to try weed to see if it would help my anxiety, BUT I'm unwilling to ever smoke something, so no. Have you ever changed clothes in a vehicle? Yeah. Do you listen to country music? No. Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like? No. Were you ever a trouble maker? Not really, no. Do you shave your legs? Hell, that's debatable by this point. I haven't since this past October, but I *would* if for whatever reason someone might see my legs. I am not overexaggerating when I say I naturally have men's legs as far as hair goes, oof. Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer? That's what my dad always drank when he was an alcoholic. He doesn't touch alcohol now. Have you ever gotten sloppy drunk at a party? No. Have you ever slept naked? Accidentally. Could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life? I really don't think I could be. Do you actually like going to school? I never did. Have you ever really been in a “complicated relationship”? How did that work out? In your opinion, what makes a relationship “complicated”? No. I don't care enough to go into what a complicated relationship means, I think it's pretty obvious. Who was the first person you’ve ever fallen in love with? Is this a person you’re still in contact with? How do you know you’re in love with someone? Jason, and no. And you just... know. It's a wordless feeling . Have you ever successfully broken a bad habit? How about conquered a fear of something? Uhhhh I don't know, really. Well, I used to be AWFUL at picking my eyebrows, particularly when anxious, but I have gotten better at that. I still kinda do it, though. Onto the next question, I don't believe I've "conquered" a fear, but rather they just faded with time on their own. Have you ever read a whole series of books? Yeah. Are you going to walk at your graduation or just pick your diploma up? I walked. Do you own a pair of brass knuckles? No. Have you ever tried to break a Guinness World Record? No. Can you sing your ABC’s backwards? I can't. Do you like Skittles? I love Skittles. Do you know how to read music? I used to. Who would you say has made the biggest impact on your life? Really, Jason. He ultimately led to me getting proper treatment for my depression, which changed my life. I'm in no way giving him credit for it, but you get what I mean. You can only listen to THREE CDs for the rest of your life. What are they? Black Rain and Ozzmosis by Ozzy Osbourne, and uhhh... perhaps The Black Album by Metallica. Do you own any shirts that have a year on it? Yeah, but it's way too small for me now. It's from Back To The Future, when we actually reached the date in the movie. Have you ever done another person’s make-up? Ha, I gave Jason a makeover once. Honestly, do you double dip? Not if I'm sharing the dip with other people. Who were you last on an elevator with? My mom. Do you know anyone that has a black belt in karate? Not to my knowledge. How often do you wear hats? Never. Who is the youngest gay person you know? *shrug* Have you ever watched an animal being eaten by another animal? I've seen cats eat mice and stuff as a kid. What is the strangest, most “out there” thing you believe? Some people I'm sure would consider the fact I believe the government was involved in 9/11 as "out there," but when you look into it, it's far from "out there." Do you get along with people who are especially religious? Why/why not? It depends on how they act about it, not what they keep in their head. Now if they have just purely hateful beliefs that demonize another's existence, then no, we can't get along. Have you ever drawn or painted a self-portrait? Painted, yes, for an art class. Do you have any interesting pillow cases? No. Are you more afraid of spiders or bees? Bees, generally. Especially if we're talking things like wasps, who are just demon spawns. Would you rather donate time, blood, or money? That's a really hard question, but I guess time? Like I'm thinking volunteer work and stuff, or listening to and comforting someone. Can grills be sexy on a guy? They're sexy on absolutely no one. Last strong smell you can remember smelling? Ugh, gasoline. This one car in front of my mom and me smelled awful. Last healthy thing you ate? Apples. Do you know anybody who was abused? Emotionally, yes. Do your parents volunteer anywhere? No. Do you have a steering wheel cover? Mom's car doesn't. What do you think of when you see sharp knives? This is really morbid, but I will immediately envision what it would be like to be stabbed. I'm very afraid of knives. The highway and back roads take you to the same place; choose your route. The back roads, of course. And let me bring my camera.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''schism'' by tool

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laheyy · 3 years

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I’m wondering for your fic “as I breathe so does she,” if you had a backstory to what happened to captain Rex and the other clones? Like if part of mace defeating palps meant order 66 never happened so the chips weren’t an issue? Or if kamino was investigated after the fact and the whole plot was exposed? I love it so far and was curious

Hi! This is really funny that you asked me this because I had been stressing about what to do with the clones for, like, the entire time I’d been planning this story, but I knew I needed to include them (or at least Rex) and I finally figured it out today.

I think one of the reasons I’ve been struggling so hard with it was because I didn’t want them to be only soldiers anymore. I wanted to let them have agency with what they pursued after the war- whether that be staying with the Grand Army of the Republic (which in my mind was considerably downsized after the war ended to redistribute money to struggling systems) or pursuing other employment options. Here is what I decided on as a timeline and explanation for what happened in my universe with how Anakin didn’t turn to the dark side, Order 66 doesn’t happen, and what happens to the Clones:

Beginning in canon ROTS- Anakin tells Mace about Palps, goes to the council room like instructed. The same thing happens where he’s essentially falling apart and breaking down, but instead of coming to the realization that he needs to go save the shitty old man, he decides to call Padmé and tell her what's going on even though he knows he shouldn’t. The shock of Palps’ reveal sends Padmé into early labor and instead of rushing to save the chancellor, Anakin runs to Padmé instead. He realizes that if Padmé is having the baby right now there is nothing Palps can teach him in time to save her life. He reasons that with his mom, it was just a matter of being too late and if he goes to save Palps first, those few precious minutes may be the deciding factor in whether or not she lives.

Over at the Senate, everything happens like normal to an extent, except Kit Fisto isn’t killed by Palps and survives, he testifies to Mace killing the Chancellor with his lightsaber, but in the struggle both Mace and Palps go over the side of the senate building. Both are presumed dead. More on this (Padmé, Anakin, the Jedi...) for another time!

SWITCHING GEARS- this means that Order 66 never gets to happen and at first in the aftermath, nobody knows about it and nothing was done. Everything is kind of in chaos at the Senate with the Chancellor being killed, people and blaming the Jedi for the war going on so long, but Bail Organa and Mon Mothma (Padmé would be there but she just had healthy baby twins) manage to wrangle everything in order enough that to turn the Republic back on the side of the Jedi and convince people that they should be happy the war is over, and that the Jedi did exactly as the promised-they won the war and now the Republic should be working to repair the damage the war caused on the galaxy. They elect Mon Mothma as the next Chancellor of the Republic.

AS FOR THE CLONES: The Jedi and a few chosen Senators are heading to task force to investigate Palps and everything and how he managed to hide himself for so long and what his endgame plan was. During this investigation they find Rex’s sealed report about Fives and the inhibitor chips. Mas Amedda (who is in prison) confirms the real reason behind the chips and what they were going to be used for and everyone is rightfully horrified. The chips are removed from all clones. This takes some time and while this process is taking place, all clones return to Kamino, but the Jedi oversee the chip’s removal process because they don’t trust the Kaminoans anymore for obvious reasons.

Concurrent to this happening, the Senate passes a few legislations that are important to the clones (spearheaded by Padmé even from maternity leave)- 1. All clones are given citizenship in the Republic. What planet may you ask does it say they are from? Coruscant! Kamino leaves the Republic after the investigation in Palps and the inhibitor chips and the clone bases close. 2.They receiving a mega large stipend from the Republic as thank you for their service. This one is really important because we never really talk about how canonically they aren’t paid?? They will also get a pension when they reach a certain age.

After the chips come out, the clones are armed with their new citizenship and a hefty sum of money a lot of options. They are allowed to go wherever they want! A lot of them stay to help raise the remaining cadets who aren’t adults yet on a campus built on Coruscant for the clones once they leave Kamino; some decide to stay in the Grand Army as retainer soldiers and in the mean time settle down across the galaxy and have families; some work at the Jedi Temple; some accept positions to teach at the Imperial academy; some go to college; They do a myriad of things! They all are allowed to have therapy!

However, in my mind, the ones who did the most time serving on the front lines find just turning to a civilian life hard and unsatisfying. SO, when the Senate creates their version of a Galactic Red Cross thingy to help the worlds hit hardest by the war, it is the clones who make up the majority of the forces! They go back to places like Ryloth and Onderon and help the citizens rebuild. But, this time when they work for the Republic, it isn’t as a slave army but as a paid citizens with rights and shit. They have benefits and vacation time! There are also some Jedi assigned to this task force (I think was how Ahsoka came back the Order, she worked with Rex on this and then it allowed her time to heal and come back), but they aren’t automatic superiors to the clones, they work alongside them and are equals with them in a way they could never be before.

This is where I think some of our favorite Clones are- Rex, Cody, and most of their respective battalions. They are helping the rebuild the Galaxy they now get to live in as fully recognized citizens. They use the star destroyers and stuff to deliver relief aid. It’s a whole thing

This was a really long winded way to answer your question lol I have so much more in my head but tried to condense it down to something readable. I hope it makes sense lol. If you have questions about anything I haven’t mentioned here please ask, I love talking about the expanded worlds for my stories lol.

One of the things I didn't mention above was that all the clones also get medals for their service and special traveling privileges and I think the Senate commissions a large memorial to be built on Coruscant as thank you for their service and to honor the fallen. The Jedi and their clone battalions stay in touch (Rex’s official residence is recorded as Padmé and Anakin’s apartment for the longest time because it took him forever to find an apartment he liked after the war. He was a big help with when they awoke screaming at 3 am lol).

Also, I know there's that funny post that floats around about the clones getting last names and Anakin and Ahsoka fighting over who’s last name Rex gets, but I think the clones would choose a cohesive last name for all the brothers to stay united after they separate! Of course some change it, or discard it when they get married but I think they’d want something that was just for them. Don’t ask me what it is though, I haven’t figured that out lol

Thanks for asking!! :))))

#this is so long i apologize in advance #it was a seemingly easy question that has a really long swer #answer**#i didn't go into depth on the anakin thing i could answer that in a diff post because it wasn't really relevant to the clones question :)#long post #mara speaks #as i breathe so does she #ask mara

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promptsausandshit · 4 years

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Picture this; #370

A Month of Friendship Prompts;

(Note; While the goal is to do one a day, please go at your own pace, this is for fun after all!)

1. A group of misfits meet on an MMO and after meeting a very odd NPC things begin to get very melodramatic. They now meet weekly.

2. “Being friends with you is so much easier when your not being petty.”

3. Two old scientists are well aware their employer is trying to pit them against each other for some reason, and so decide to team up instead just to spite them.

4. They had organised a dance number for this exact moment, they barely needed a signal to know it was time to make a memorable exit.

5. The towns wizard, witch and clairvoyant had a friendly rivalry going based purely on who had the best familiar. No one’s sure who’s winning.

6. “You tell anyone that I admitted to caring about you and rest assured there will be a snake in the next one.”

7. They were very young when they spotted each other on either side of a fish tank and now they’re both enjoying their respective jobs as marine biologist and professional mermaid.

8. All their worrying about introducing their friends to each and in the end they had already met! Question is, what sort of impression did they each make?

9. “Look, we’re good mates so I’d die for you but you know I have work tomorrow, right? There has to be more going on for us to be doing this right now...Tell me we didn’t warp to another galaxy on a work night just to look for your shifty stubborn ex!”

10. A loner spots a classmate trying and failing to sew a toy for their sibling’s birthday, feeling pity they throw them one their hand made hobby projects without much thought. Now that person won’t leave them alone and seems very eager to learn more about their hobby.

11. Pairing up with a fellow villain that has a completely different theme going can be quite interesting. Still, friends who scheme together stay together, even if their aesthetics don’t match.

12. Sometimes being a friend meant taking your friends to a secret spot where they could scream their problems at a squirrel statue.

13. Two royals are very glad that the fighting between their nations are over and they get to spend more time together as they did when they were young, though having to get married is a little awkward since they’ve already got lovers.

14. “We may be fools, but together we’re the best type of fools.”

15. It’s always good to know your buddy has your back even when your comebacks suck.

16. Finding out the other was also trans, they soon started swapping clothes and became known as ‘The Opposite Twins’.

17. Game night was always a mixed bag, it could be uneventful, filled with funny moments they would reminisce on later or things would get very real very suddenly. Still, it was their thing.

18. “Ah yes, how rude of me, let me introduce you to my dearest and closest friend. You may recognise them from that time you requested that I kill them.”

19. None knew when ‘Boop Tag’ became a thing or who started it, but the competition was fierce and never ending, so much so they had formed alliances.

20. You’d think after so long the ‘lend me a hand’ gag would get old, however, it didn’t stop them. In fact they started adding to it to the point that every newbie had a very interesting introduction to their group.

21. “I’m certain of our friendship because you have a special piggy bank purely for my bail money. That is how long and how well I know you.”

22. Besties decide to swap styles for a day out of boredom and curiosity, it is a strange experience for them both but fun nonetheless and only allows them to understand each other better.

23. Every one of their friends got a friendship bracelet. All of them. No one even knew where they came from or how they could just suddenly appear like that.

24. After being separated for three years, they spot each other on opposite platforms at a train station. How will this reunion go?

25. Being a ruler would be a lot easier if their best friend was not a stone-faced guard that knew just how to sneak inside jokes passed other nobles. Holding in laughter did not look very regal.

26. “I have thoroughly analysed our time together and have concluded that you believe me to be your closest companion. I am struggling however to tell if that means you consider me a friend or one of those animal companions.”

27. Ghostly housemate is still unsure about your friend with the weird hair.

28. Since their schedules never matched up, they traded birthday presents on a specific day, however this time they were having trouble with their gifts.

29. They ended up breaking a number of items just trying to get the other to stop binging that damn show in their room and eat something decent.

30. They were in so much trouble, so so so much trouble, yet here they were giggling like idiots.

31. “I’ll trade you one embarrassing childhood story about them for a portion of your food.”

Completion Bonus!;

Do a one shot or a sketch for something you love that you haven’t had the chance to do for a while! Or read one chapter of an unfinished story! Or watch one episode or movie of that thing you like! Satisfy whatever urge you have right now, you have all the time in the world for this so relax and treat yourself, you did great!

#prompts #prompt #writing prompt #drawing prompt #art prompt #au #alternative universe #fanfiction prompt #writing ideas #art ideas #promptsausandshit #friendship #month challenges #month of prompts #keep in mind these are for platonic dynamics #romance and family prompts will come later #lgbt+#childhood friends #best friends

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mister-fleck · 5 years

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relax: arthur fleck x sophie

prompt: “Could you write arthur/sophie nsfw? I imagine him as less experienced than her, but so excited and happy to what’s going on.”

Arthur struck his lighter once, twice, three times before taking a deep pull off of his cigarette.

A week had gone by since Hoyt had fired him. That particular phone call still made Arthur’s cheeks burn with shame whenever he thought back on it — which was often. The whole ordeal skyrocketed Arthur’s already prominent amount of stress. Cash had grown tight, not that he had all that much saved up to begin with, and Arthur had been forced to take a step back and reevaluate how to spend what little change he had left.

And it was imperative that he did so. Arthur didn’t have the greatest resume, certainly no college degree, and the faded homeschooled certificate he kept stapled to it didn’t mean anything when it came to employers. Who in their right mind would hire somebody whose main credentials were clown and nice guy?

Due to the current hardship that life always seemed to throw at him, Arthur had disciplined himself into smoking less. He couldn’t afford the luxury of smoking two packs a day anymore, not with the responsibility of feeding his mother and paying the landlord.

He had waited all day to smoke this cigarette. Arthur had told himself that he would be rewarded with it at the end of the day, but only if he pushed himself out of his comfort zone to apply for work elsewhere. Interviews were always at the top of Arthur’s list when it came to what made him nervous. And nervousness led to anxiety, which led to paranoia, which led to laughter…

Today hadn’t gone any differently. Nobody even remotely considered him — Arthur had consistently struggled to find the right words to sell himself as a diligent employee. Which was frustrating, because Arthur knew he was a hard worker. He put his heart and soul into everything he did, especially when there was the possibility of failure. Yet none of this mattered, not when Arthur could only shrug and grasp at his throat when asked: where do you see yourself in five years?

But he had tried. Arthur had gotten dressed, combed back his hair, and put in the effort to further his life in this dreadful city called Gotham, so he deserved this damn cigarette.

Shoving his cold hands into his pockets, Arthur let the smoke travel into the furthest parts of his body before exhaling it during his walk home.

“C’mon, we’ve got to hurry it up. It’ll get cold out soon, baby girl.”

Arthur lifted his gaze from the filthy sidewalk and was met with the vision of a slender woman rounding the street corner, hand in hand with a little girl.

His cigarette nearly fell from between his lips. Sophie.

After their short encounter in the elevator, Arthur had developed a serious crush. He could count on his fingers how many women had offered him the time of day, let alone smile in his general direction — so their brief moment, no matter how insignificant it may have been for her, had been imprinted on his heart.

Arthur wasn’t proud of how he had followed her to work the day after. He hadn’t planned on it — Arthur had been on his way to the drug store when he spotted her leaving the apartment building, and well… he couldn’t stop himself. She pulled him forward unknowingly, like some sort of unrequited magnet.

He had even imagined her showing up at his apartment, flirting with him in his door way. Calling him funny.

And now they were walking in the same direction, the pair a few buildings away, their strides brisk. Sophie’s daughter was holding a red balloon and seemed to be disappearing in the fluffy winter jacket that she was bundled up in. Arthur’s eyes fell to their joined hands and envied the sight for more reasons than one.

“Gigi, come back here!”

Sophie’s sudden demand pulled Arthur out of his thoughts and he focused on what was playing out before him: the red balloon was now a few feet away from the two of them, most likely having been blown away from the late October breeze, and Gigi’s little feet were pitter-pattering in the same direction, determined to catch it.

Right into oncoming traffic.

Breath hitching, Arthur tossed aside his cigarette and broke into a clumsy sprint toward the child without hesitation, nearly falling flat on his face in the process, but managed to grab Gigi by the back of her coat and yank her onto the sidewalk before a taxi cab could smack right into the side of her.

The rest was a blur. Arthur’s throat clenched and unclenched as he knelt on the sidewalk, his lungs burning, his nose pink and itchy from the chill. He heard Sophie scold her daughter somewhere behind him, her voice tight with concern and anger and thick with tears. A soft hand fell against his shoulder soon thereafter.

“Jesus Christ, thank you so much, are you okay?”

Arthur began to laugh.

It came out in sharp bursts, loud and jagged, each peal like a bruising kick to his chest. Mortified and nearly hyperventilating, Arthur buried his face in the crook of his elbow and fought off the urge to curl up into the fetal position. He clenched his fist and slammed it once against the pavement as he drowned in his own self-hatred.

The hand on his shoulder retreated and Arthur’s heart broke. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let this be how Sophie perceived him, not as some delusional sicko devoid of empathy. Anguished, he dug around in his pants pocket until he felt thin plastic and held the card up over his head as he succumbed to more agonizing laughter.

To his embarrassment, it took Arthur nearly a full minute to calm down, and by then he had accepted the fact that Sophie had probably left him there out of pity. But as he lifted his head, now throbbing and heavy, Arthur saw that she was kneeling beside him, dark eyes wide with worry.

Sophie smiled sadly at him, but didn’t move away. Instead, she parted her lips. “Hey.”

Arthur, out of his mind and abruptly infatuated, returned the favor. “Hey.”

An hour later, Arthur found himself seated in Sophie’s apartment, perched nervously on the edge of her couch with his hands wrapped around a warm mug of coffee. He turned the mug over and smiled at the messy, painted lettering splayed across it: Best Mommy Ever.

Arthur’s heart had been hammering away ever since Sophie had invited him back to her place. He had politely insisted that repaying him wasn’t necessary, but thankfully she was insistent on patching up his banged up hand.

“Thank you for waiting,” Sophie murmured, reemerging from Gigi’s bedroom. “Had to check under the little one’s bed for monsters. You know how children can be.”

With the way Sophie looked in her sweater and leggings, Arthur felt like a little kid himself, dazed and bashful in her presence. He smiled up at her.

“I used to work with them,” he heard himself admit, knees pressed together and ears heating up. “I’d entertain the kids down at Gotham Children’s Hospital.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. “I’m a party clown.”

Sophie broke out into a bright grin and Arthur could have passed out. “Really? That’s so sweet, Arthur.” She rounded the couch to sit next to him, not too close, but not far away either. “That’s your name, right? Arthur Fleck?”

Please never stop saying my name. “Yes. Arthur.”

Picking up her own mug from the coffee table in front of them, Sophie leaned back into the couch and crossed one long leg over the other. “I’ve always liked that name.”

She took a sip. Arthur mimicked her, letting the hot liquid soothe his throat. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. It’s sweet. And distinguished.”

Looking down at his wrinkled jacket and beat up corduroy slacks, Arthur lifted one of his shoulders quietly. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever been distinguished, but I try my best to be sweet.” His voice was small, meek.

“You’re kind of precious, you know that?” Sophie commented bluntly, her eyes flitting about him. “My neighbor said that you were kind of a creep, but I don’t think that’s the case at all.”

Arthur sagged a little. “They said that?” Hoping to rectify his reputation, he leant forward slightly, earnestly. “I swear, I’m a good guy, I’m just a little…”

“Shy.” Sophie finished for him, still smiling.

She was the sun. She was the moon, the stars, the unimaginable in-between. Arthur’s pulse skipped. “Yeah.”

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened, but midway through the evening news Sophie had allowed herself to scoot closer, resting her head against his shoulder and lifting her legs up onto the couch as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. He didn’t breathe for a solid two minutes, unaware of what god to thank for blessing him.

Sophie’s voice came softly, “Is it okay if I…?”

Arthur looked down to see one of her delicate, feminine hands tugging at his sleeve and he nodded fervently, lifting his arm so she could curl up underneath it. Content, Sophie hummed and went back to watching the weather man on the small television set across from them.

He could have cried. Arthur didn’t know whether to feel confident or insecure — she had to have felt comfortable around him to be so intimate, which majorly stroked his ego, but did she simply feel obligated to be kind to him, after how he saved her daughter? Did Sophie mind that he smelled like cigarettes and cheap laundry detergent? Was he too thin, too bony to rest against? Was he —

“Your heart is beating so fast.”

Arthur’s thoughts halted. He felt his mouth go dry. “I’m sorry.”

Sophie reached out and squeezed his knee. “Relax. You deserve to, you know.”

“Are you real?” He had blurted it out without thinking, a tremble in his voice. It was a strange combination, Arthur realized, to be smitten and terrified all at once.

He felt her body shake with soft laughter. “You’re so funny, Arthur.”

You’re so funny, Arthur.

Arthur’s heart began to break. He cursed his overactive imagination and squeezed his eyes tight, words tumbling out haphazardly, “It’s just, you’re so kind to me, and you’re beautiful, and I would hate it if you were… if you weren’t…” He struggled to find the right words, as usual. “If I was dreaming.”

There was movement against him, careful and gentle, and when Arthur opened his eyes he found Sophie much, much closer. Straddling his lap. Smirking at him.

“Does this feel like a dream?”

Both so slowly and all at once, Sophie cradled his face in her hands and captured his mouth in a warm kiss.

The world faded away. For the first time all night, Arthur allowed himself to turn off his brain and just enjoy her, her company, the way her body fit perfectly in his arms — which were now wrapped carefully, tenderly around her — the way her fingernails felt as they scratched affectionately against the back of his neck before sinking into his hair.

They kissed for a long time, languidly, unhurried. Not even the opening theme to The Murray Franklin Show could pull him out of this moment, not with how Sophie was beginning to roll her hips and nibble at his bottom lip.

Arthur was hard instantly, despite how innocently he was maintaining his posture, how modestly he was holding the woman. Sophie must have noticed though, because she pulled back with a vixen-like grin, the both of them out of breath.

“Sorry,” Arthur rasped, a bit of a grimace on his face as he tried to fight back the urge to buck his hips up into her.

Sophie’s face was flushed as she stole another kiss, her lips brushing against his as she spoke, “You really are precious.”

Sensing his distress, she reached back to take one of Arthur’s hands and guided it wordlessly down the front of her pants and over drenched panties.

Arthur’s cock twitched in his underwear. “Oh, god…”

The both of them sat panting, foreheads pressed together, adjusting to the fact that they were now openly expressing how much they wanted one another in this moment.

“Touch me,” Sophie prompted, a shaky whisper.

Arthur shuddered, swallowed hard. “Can I?”

“Please.”

Horribly inexperienced, Arthur nodded and cautiously dipped his fingertips beneath her panties and let them slide against slick, swollen flesh. He groaned softly and let his gaze fall, hypnotized by the sight of his hand lost behind the fabric.

Sophie whimpered immediately, hands back in Arthur’s hair. He began to rub little circles right where she needed it most. “U-Uh huh, just like that. Fuck.”

Arthur was flying high. He hadn’t managed to mess up all night, which in turn led him to think that this may still all be some very vivid dream, but the way Sophie’s lithe little body trembled against him, how soaked his hand became as the minutes went by of him teasing her — that was enough to make him feel tall, broad. Like a man.

Soon, Sophie was shaking like a leaf and squeezing at Arthur’s shoulders insistently. “Take…Take my pants off.”

Arthur blinked in surprise, but he didn’t need to be asked twice. He retreated his wet hand — earning him a sharp gasp from Sophie — and helped her wriggle out of her leggings and panties. They were both a little clumsy and began to chuckle, but Arthur’s laughter turned into a moan when her hand palmed at his crotch.

“S-Sophie, you don’t have to—“

“Shh,” she cooed. “I want to make you feel good.”

His chest began to heave in anticipation and Arthur knew he had to be honest with her before they went any further. “I’ve never done this before.”

Sophie hummed, kissed him hotly. He heard the metallic scratching of his zipper being pulled down. “Then let me teach you.”

All he could do was nod and look up at her, pupils dilated, pulse skyrocketing. He wiped his sweaty palms on the fabric of his pants before scooting back to allow Sophie to pull his throbbing erection out of his briefs.

“Wow,” Sophie breathed, skimming the pad of her thumb over the tip of his cock and eying the size of him. “Good for you, Arthur.”

Arthur’s chest swelled with pride, feeling validated and maybe even attractive for the first time in his entire life, but he didn’t let it get to his head. He couldn’t, not with the way Sophie had wrapped her fist around him and was beginning to stroke him lazily.

A whine tore out of his chest. “I don’t have a condom,” he managed to say, seeing stars and shuddering.

Sophie licked her lips and shook her head briefly, her voice low with lust, “That’s— That’s fine. I’m on birth control.”

“Oh,” Arthur replied lamely, a bit strangled. “Okay.”

“Arthur?”

Green eyes lifted to brown. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Arthur surged forward and did as he was told, and she swallowed his moan when he realized that she was about to straddle him in an entirely different way. He wasn’t sure of where to put his hands, whether it would be impolite to take her by the hips, or too awkward to keep them at his sides, so he gingerly held her face instead and braced himself.

Sophie felt absolutely divine as she sunk down onto him. She was warm — no, hot — and so wet, smooth and delicious and his hips jerked up as a reaction, making her squeak in pleasured surprise.

They fell into a slow, heady, delicious rhythm, guided mostly by Sophie who seemed to be loving taking control. Arthur’s hands fell to her waist, nothing demanding but enough to express that he never wanted her to stop fucking him.

“You feel so good,” Arthur stammered, his hot face pressed against her shoulder as she continued to ride him with leisurely rolls of her hips. He lost control a second time, his hips snapping up once more.

Sophie muffled a breathy cry into his hair and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do… do that again, baby.”

Baby.

Tightening his grip on her waist, Arthur began to pump his hips up into her steadily now, his brow furrowed as he focused on keeping it together. “Like this?”

“God, yeah,” Sophie breathed, her head falling back in pleasure. “You’re a fast learner.”

Arthur felt her clench around him and he hissed, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to hold off much longer. He sped up unconsciously, the sound of her ass slapping against the tops of his thighs making him dizzy.

“Sophie, I think I’m going to…” He didn’t know how to explain himself, not wanting to be crude.

“Me too,” she reassured him quickly, matching his feverish pace. The tightness in Arthur’s belly was about to snap. Her voice grew light and needy, “With me, Arthur! Now, right now! Fuck!”

Sophie’s pussy spasmed hard around his cock and Arthur’s vision went white as he came inside of her. The ecstasy that crashed over him seemed to last forever, intense and heavenly, and he had to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself from crying out.

Almost five minutes passed before the trembling aftershocks between the two of them subsided and Sophie leaned back to press her lips to Arthur’s forehead.

“Wanna cigarette?” She murmured, threading her fingers through his hair, still very much on top of him.

A smile slowly flirted with Arthur’s lips. “Yes, please.”

#arthur fleck x sophie #arthur fleck #joker #joker movie #arthur fleck x reader #drabble

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s-j-ace · 4 years

Text

The Same Question

Chapter Three

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 3360

Summary:

After Detective Shuichi Saihara encounters mysterious thief Kokichi Ouma for the first time, a game of cat and mouse ensues as both men ask themselves the same question. Why exactly does the elusive phantom thief do what he does?

This is Chapter Three, Here are Chapters One and Two

Read on AO3

[Log of Text Messages from Kaede Akamatsu’s Cellular Device]

From: Me

Hey Shuichi! How's it going? I haven't heard from you in a while. I keep forgetting I'm a human person and not a piano machine while I'm on this tour lol.

From: Shuichi! :D

Hi Kaede! I'm sorry! I forgot to check in on how your tour is going, probably because I've been kind of busy myself. How are you?

From: Me

No need to apologize silly

I'm doing ok

Just craving human interaction that isn't a graceful hand shake or an approving nod rn

Hey if you've been busy that means you're working another case, right?

From: Shuichi! :D

Haha yeah I guess.

Or at least I'm trying.

From: Me

👀

You wanna talk about it or is this one still top secret?

From: Shuichi! :D

Well

I guess there's no client or victim to protect with this one

And there's nothing really stopping me from talking about it

But it's not that interesting to be honest.

From: Me

You're talking to a girl who is on her phone rn to avoid playing hoity toity with a bunch of rich people who like dressing up fancy more than they actually appreciate music :///

Anything is an improvement tbh

From: Shuichi! :D

Haha ok

Well

So like I've been tracking some thieves for a while now.

From: Me

Oooh is this like the Novoselic case?

From: Shuichi! :D

No it's more like a series of robberies than one big robbery.

From: Me

The intrigue,,, 😲😲🤔🤔

From: Shuichi! :D

Anyway it's just a group of thieves

They just robbed this casino and it's a little frustrating

Because I looked at the security tapes and they just kind of…

Walked in…

And the thing about these guys is that they all dress up like clowns

So like it’s literally just eight clowns on the security tape coming in and picking things up and leaving and there’s other people in these videos but no one even looks at them twice????

From: Me

Ffff that’s pretty funny…

From: Shuichi! :D

Hmm.. I’d probably have found it more funny if the owner of the casino hadn’t been crying and shaking me while I watched it. They dropped one of the chandeliers on his car or something.

From: Me

What??? Chandeliers????

From: Shuichi! :D

Yeah, the boss clown dangled these chandeliers off the side of the roof to distract me while these rare videogames were being stolen. Then he broke them when he thought his crew could get away.

From: Me

How is that not interesting??? That’s super intense Shuichi!! It makes me want to play movement three of Moonlight Sonata...

From: Shuichi! :D

Is that the really fast one

From: Me

Yes!!! :DDD

I’ll make a melomaniac of you yet!

From: Shuichi! :D

Does this mean you’ll stop making fun of me for getting a C in music appreciation senior year

From: Me

Oh yeah the real reason we broke up lol

From Shuichi! :D

Haha yeah.

Uh, anyway. With the thieves.

I know they're going to land in Cairo in a few days but I don't know what they're stealing.

From: Me

Hey! Rantarou's going to Cairo tomorrow!

You want me to see if I can get you a ride on his jet?

From: Shuichi! :D

Oh no you don't have to do that

From: Me

Yeah, but I'm going to

Unless you really don't want me to but I think that you do so...

From: Shuichi! :D

I dunno

That would be very nice

I'm a little low on a travel budget and I'm in Reno Nevada right now

From: Me

Oh huh where's that

From: Shuichi! :D

In America, like eleven hours away from where you are

From: Me

So? Rantarou's a trust fund baby he could afford the detour

From: Shuichi! :D

Yeah but also like

I'm pretty sure he hates me?

From: Me

Whaaaaat

Rantarou doesn't hate you

Last time you saw him you literally helped him track down all twelve of his missing sisters

From: Shuichi! :D

Yeah but I just get the vibe that he doesn't like me

From: Me

Shuichi you have social anxiety

---

From: Me

Hey you don't hate my friend Shuichi do you

From: Avocado Hair

Hmmm…

I don’t want to be mean

From: Me

Yeah you don’t >:/

From: Avocado Hair

But I thought he was a little suspicious when I first met him…

Don’t get me wrong, Shuichi’s nice and seems reliable enough

But also he’s your ex and I don’t trust exes of my friends just on principle

From: Me

...

From: Avocado Hair

Listen obviously I think Shuichi is cool now

But also it was kind of sus when he was just creeping around your shows without introducing himself…

From: Me

I invited him to those! >>:0000

From: Avocado Hair

Yeah, I know that now

He’s a nice guy alright? Really, I do owe him one

Or twelve hah

From: Me

Great! You’re picking him up from Nevada tomorrow

From: Avocado Hair

I'm doing what now

From: Me

From: Avocado Hair

So Nevada, huh?

---

From: Shuichi! :D

Yeah but also sometimes I'm right when I think people hate me

Having social anxiety does not make that not true

From: Me

I set everything up :)) he says you're a cool guy and he'll call you when he lands in Reno

From: Shuichi! :D

That's very nice of him

From: Me

Shuichi Rantarou owes you like 12 life debts

From: Shuichi

Finding missing persons is my job, it’s hardly something to owe a life over

From: Me

Shuichi it was 12 missing persons

My mans Avocado lost track of twelve whole sisters and you found all of them and now you think he's capable of hate??? smh 😔

From: Shuichi! :D

I'm sorry okay?

From: Me

You don’t need to be!!!

---

Shuichi Saihara found himself, one week after the heist in Reno, on practically the other side of the world. He was blending in with the scattered crowd of tourists circling around the new exhibit at The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Cairo, Egypt. As he looked into the wide-eyed, gilden face of a newly dug up sarcophagus, Shuichi struggled to convince himself that this wasn’t a complete waste of time. Interpol and the Boulaq Police Department certainly seemed to think it was...

Back in Paris, Interpol hadn’t ended up giving Shuichi access to DICE’s next encrypted letter of intent. Instead, after Shuichi gave his testimony to the Paris Police and the investigation was essentially wrapped up, it seemed like Agent Kiyotaka Ishimaru decided to make an appearance just to have the pleasure of yelling at Shuichi about how many protocols he would've just broken if he were actually beholden to the employment of any law enforcement agency.

… okay that wasn't a fair characterization of Agent Ishimaru. He was a nice enough guy. He just wasn't as disillusioned with the authoritarian reality of national militias given power by systems of government forged when people still thought eating your own vomit cured smallpox. One time he gave Shuichi a juice box, and some cookies his husband made, before chewing him out, so that was pretty nice. Although maybe that was only because Shuichi had just gotten lightly stabbed by an internationally wanted drug dealer…

Regardless, Agent Ishimaru was far from pleased that Shuichi was “performing acts of covert vigilantism again,” despite the fact that Shuichi had absolutely no idea DICE was even on the flight and therefore his reactionary investigation didn’t include anything illegal, such as stalking, that would be classified as unlawful vigilantism without the backing of the appropriate law enforcement agencies.

When Agent Ishimaru was done giving a speech about Shuichi’s naivete, he ordered him to get off the case. Luckily for Shuichi the Paris Police thought he was with interpol because of this exchange, and they let him look at security tapes and flight records from the two closest airports. He’d been able to deduce their arrival at Reno, but wasn’t able to figure out what DICE’s mark would be until the heist was already under way. He’d just barely been able to stop them from stealing every single vintage game console from the Silver Legacy Resort.

After looking at tapes from the Reno-Tahoe International airport too, Shuichi had been able to deduce DICE’s next destination was Egypt, but Egypt was a country and had a lot more national landmarks than Nevada did and honestly Shuichi didn’t even know where to start looking for possible burgleables. Rantarou, a friend of Kaede's who was nice enough to give Shuichi a ride to Cairo, had asked him to check out the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities first.

Apparently Rantarou's family could trace parts of their bloodline back to old money European families which had partaken in the awful rich people trend of the 16th century where they would just rob graves in Egypt and eat parts of mummies. As a result, they had a bunch of artifacts that didn't belong to them, so Rantarou often made trips to Egypt to return as many as he could. Right now a lot of those artifacts were getting packaged to be shipped to the Grand Egyptian Museum in Giza, because the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities was due to be superseded by it next year. He was off somewhere mixing with Museum staff while Shuichi took stock of all the possible entrances around the exhibit.

The museum was rather crowded, and as a couple walked up behind him, Shuichi suddenly felt that he was very obviously blocking the view of the sarcophagus display he was in front of. He muttered an apology and moved away, turning around to look at a vase closer to the corner rather than the center of the room. Like most of the artifacts on display it was in a glass case, which Shuichi had noticed seemed to be of the make and model of the kind rigged up to a silent alarm system of some sort. If the cases were opened, the guards in the security booth near the front of the museum would most likely be notified. Although, the exhibit pieces in the cases themselves didn’t seem of much note to Shuichi. There were, of course, priceless artifacts held up on stands or splayed out on ornately embroidered mini-rugs inside the cases, but none of it quite seemed to fit DICE’s MO. Maybe he could look into the other exhi...bits….

Shuichi’s train of thought trailed off as he noticed that on the other side of the vase he was looking at stood a young woman in a headscarf who he could tell was giving him a weird look.

Shuichi’s inner voice made a noise that would have sounded like, “Hghhhhhh” if he were speaking out loud.

Was he in front of something again? Did he have something on his face?

Okay maybe she wasn’t looking at him and he was just being weird.

His gaze flitted up to momentarily take in the heavily makeuped face and he instantly found himself locking eyes with the very familiar dark purple irises of a complete stranger.

Shuichi did a double take as he realized that this was not, in fact, a young woman.

Wait, did he really know that? Maybe he had just assumed the thief was a guy. Shuichi squinted. How do you ask an internationally wanted thief their pronouns?

“What pronouns do you use?” Ah okay, like that. Thanks for nothing internal filter.

“His majesty/His imperial highness,” The thief replied automatically as if he already knew what Shuichi was going to ask them and had remarks prepared. “Rat/rat bastard are also acceptable.”

Shuichi took that to mean that the thief wouldn’t be offended if he referred to him with masculine terms. Ugh, wait what where was his head at right now?

Shuichi began to maneuver around the vase to apprehend him, but as he moved the thief moved at the same time, so it ended up looking like they were playing ring around the rosey with the vase display.

Shuichi stopped. The thief stopped too.

He started going around the other direction. So did he.

They stopped again.

While maintaining eye contact, Shuichi attempted to discreetly move his hand into his pocket so that he could text Rantarou that a robbery was definitely happening right now. He had gotten pretty good at typing on his phone without looking, but as he slipped his hands in his pocket the thief’s eyes followed.

If he considered that Shuichi might have been reaching for a weapon, he sure didn’t look it. The man’s posture was relaxed and as he watched the grin on his face widened impossibly.

“Is that a phone in your pocket that you’re using to discreetly notify the authorities of my presence, or are you just happy to see me?”

Uh.

Shuichi sent the text -- he had managed to type out a simple “HELP” to his most recent contact, which was probably Rantarou -- and quickly pulled his hands out of his pocket. He maneuvered them instead into a placating gesture, glancing around at the trickle of visitors wandering through the exhibits around them.

“I… Don’t want to cause any unnecessary alarm…” Shuichi started to say as he tried to think of any way to de-escalate this conversation.

“Oh, trust me,” The thief began in an earnest tone that Shuichi definitely knew not to trust. “Neither do I.”

Suddenly, the glass case lifted up and Shuichi realized the thief had somehow managed to pick the display case lock during their impromptu round of ring around the rosey. Which hopefully set off an alarm of some sort?

Yet as Shuichi glanced around he couldn’t spot any form of security in between tourists, none of whom seemed to see what was happening. Or maybe it didn’t register as suspicious to them?

It certainly registered suspicious to Shuichi, who was now looking directly at the thief’s heavily makeuped face. He didn’t look anything like the first time Shuichi saw him, except for the facial expression that seemed to indicate he could just decide to pull out a knife or jump off an airplane at any moment. Shuichi had only a moment to connect this expression to that of the black and white cat that kept knocking over the potted plants on Kaito and Maki’s balcony before the thief’s hand was raised and already coming down on the ancient vase. The priceless artifact took a nosedive off its display pedestal, and Shuichi dove to catch it.

Thankfully, Shuichi managed to grab the vase out of the air in the nick of time, just careful enough to prevent it from shattering into a million pieces on the floor. Not so thankfully, Shuichi was the one who fell on the floor instead. He hit the ground, but hey! At least the vase was fine! Then again the natural oils on his hands probably weren’t especially helpful in the grand scheme of the artifact’s preservation…

Shuichi moved to stand up, but froze as he realized that every eye on the room was on him.

Uh. Okay. Time to. Not. Freak out about that. Yep.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit they were all looking at him what if they thought he was-

Wait. Where did DICE go?

Shuichi heard a loud, sharp sound, and turned instinctively. He found that the thief had stepped behind him at some point, and had backed up to blend in with the rest of the crowd. As the sharp sound repeated, Shuichi came to the realization that the thief masquerading as a young girl had clapped. And now the man behind him was clapping to, and the woman behind him, and the lady behind her and almost instantaneously Shuichi came to the realization that the whole room was clapping, and that it was a distraction. As the clapping continued, the thief stood still as curious museumgoers pushed forward in the crowd to figure out what was going on in this corner of the display.

The thief was disappearing from view. Now was his chance.

In the brief instant Shuichi and the thief locked eyes, the detective saw his challenge. That it was not only a challenge, but a question.

Will you drop everything to chase after me?

He had to make the decision now.

Shuichi chose to stand up to his full height and turned to place the vase safely back into the display case, closing it back up.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake he made in Reno, chasing after the man whose face he knew rather than keeping in mind the nine other just as capable operatives. He was starting to learn that DICE always seemed to take two steps ahead, and that if Shuichi wanted to do something it was most likely something that would benefit their plans. So he resisted the single-minded urge to chase the thief in to instead take the preventative measure of scanning the nearby displays for anyone trying to take advantage of the distracted crowd.

He didn’t even watch as the thief disappeared into the crowd, and instead pulled out his phone.

Rantarou had replied very helpfully to his “HELP” text with a carefully chosen one word reply.

---

[Log of Text Messages from Shuichi Saihara’s Cellular Device]

From: Rantarou Amami

What

From: Me

Sorry

Don’t panic

But I am fairly certain that this museum has just been robbed

From: Rantarou Amami

...

what

From: Me

It’s a lot to explain

From: Rantarou Amami

Just call me

You were in a call with Rantarou Amami that lasted 38:56.04

From: Rantarou Amami

Hey is that interpol guy done yelling at you yet

From: Me

Oh geez

Did you hear all that?

From: Rantarou Amami

I mean like

I got the gist of it

And the gist of it seemed to be

“Shuichi! Stop being such a good detective! You’re making me look bad!”

From: Me

Oh haha

I guess that was something along the general theme

I’m not really a better detective than him though

He’s just the kind of guy whose like

RULES NEED TO BE FOLLOWED BECAUSE I DO NOT QUESTION AUTHORITY

But also I think his husband is like in a biker gang or something

From: Rantarou Amami

Come on Shuichi give yourself some more credit there

If you’re not a good detective that means that at best I’m an awful one

You found twelve missing people in one week who I had been searching for for five years

Also you literally just stopped a museum robbery

From: Me

Oh, sorry I don’t mean to be like weirdly self deprecating

But also I would contest the fact that I stopped a museum robbery with the evidence of the fact that the museum definitely still got robbed

From: Rantarou Amami

Yeah but like

The only part of the museum that didn’t get the carpets stolen from it was the room you were in

Which literally had the most valuable rug in the whole building in it

Like seriously even the carpet built into the floor of the gift shop was stolen

Also you saved that vase

One of the anthropologists here almost cried when he saw that girl push it over in the tape

From: Me

That is weird isn’t it

I think the rug being an actual exhibit might’ve been why DICE didn’t go for it

That’s not their typical MO

From: Rantarou Amami

Wow… that compliment dodge tho…

From: Me

Sorry

From: Rantarou Amami

You’re good man

Hey do you need a ride back to the hotel

Shuichi?

Hello?

…

From: Me

Oh sorry, I was doing some research

I can get back to the hotel on my own

From: Rantarou Amami

Ok, cool

From: Rantarou Amami

Hey just checking in again, did you get back to your room okay?

From: Me

Oh, yes I’m here

Actually I was just about to text you too

I’m sorry to ask so much of you Amami

But could you possibly drop me off in Taipei on your way home tomorrow?

#shuichi x kokichi #shuichi saihara #shuichi danganronpa #kokichi ouma #kokichi danganronpa #oumasai #saiouma #fanfiction #Phantom Thief AU #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #danganronpa #writing #This is later than I said I would post it but I know most people read these at 2 am anyway

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takadasaiko · 4 years

Text

Love Me Twice: Chapter Seven

FFN II AO3

Summary: Tom Jacob struggles to wrap his mind around what he learns about Elizabeth Keen and Ressler gets pulled into a glitter party by Agnes.

Chapter Seven

He woke up in a warehouse, slumped down in a chair with his wrists bound together. A man was working on the shackles, threading a chain through the link on the cuffs, and Jacob took the momentary distraction to his advantage as he slammed forward. His head collided with the other man's and it sent him stumbling back and away.

Then he was on his feet, wrists still cuffed, when his captor straightened and Jacob saw a man that dwarfed him both in height and weight. That's all he saw before the man reared back and landed a blow hard enough to drive him back in the chair, rocking it back dangerously.

The man continued with the task Jacob had interrupted and pulled the chain taught. Jacob was hauled up by his wrists until his bare feet were barely touching the floor. Funny, he hadn't even realized they'd taken his boots until that very moment.

He hung there and he could already feel the ache start in his left shoulder from the old injury. It had healed up, just like the knife wounds in his side, but the damage done had left it weaker than it had been before. More vulnerable to injury. He wondered if his captors knew that or they just wanted to string him up for effect.

The sound of heels clicking against the concrete floor drew his attention as Maddie Tolliver approached. Her mother. Keen had referred to the woman as her mother. Interesting. Everyone in espionage had at least heard of the KGB spy. If she was who Keen thought she was, Jacob was already dead.

"Thank you, Elias," Tolliver addressed the man that had cuffed Jacob. She then turned her icy blue gaze on him. "Who are you?"

"I'm nobody," Jacob answered, his voice rough and he tried to stretch his legs a little longer to take some pressure off of his wrists and shoulders.

Tolliver motioned and the man - Elias - pulled back and landed a hard blow to Jacob's ribs. It threw him off balance, bare feet sliding across the concrete as he swung and all of his weight momentarily pulled against the chain. A sharp, pained sound escaped him and he found Tolliver studying him as he stopped swinging. "This is simple enough. I have questions and you'll give me the answers. If not immediately, Elias will get them out of you."

"I don't talk," Jacob growled.

"We'll see about that. Who do you work for? Townsend? Reddington?"

Jacob leveled a determined glare on her and she motioned. It became a cycle. Another blow, another question. Sometimes Jacob would pop off with a flippant response and sometimes he would just focus on staying on his feet. It wasn't his first time being tortured for information, and he meant what he said: he didn't talk. It was one of many things that had won him Bud's respect when he had first come into St Regis. From mock interrogations that left real breaks and bruises to real ones in the field, Jacob plastered a shit eating grin on his bloodied face and snarled his way through until he found an opportunity to get away. This time might be a little more difficult.

He wasn't sure how long had passed when he found Tolliver directly on him. He must not have looked like much of a threat as she leaned in, popping him none too gently against the cheek to pull his attention around. "A name and it stops," she promised.

"Go to hell."

She stepped back and Elias came at him again. Everything hurt. He felt like he was bruised and strained from head to toe, even if the overall damage wasn't severe. She wasn't trying to kill him, she wanted answers. Giving them to her wouldn't only mean breaking his contract, though, it would be signing his own death certificate.

"What's he given you?" a new voice asked from behind. Familiar, but he could turn to see the newcomer.

"Nothing. Yet." Tolliver motioned and Elias swung again, this time the blow a glancing one that sent him twisting around as well as swinging.

And then he saw her. Elizabeth Keen. She stood in the middle of the warehouse in her t-shirt and jeans, hair tied back, and staring at him like she'd seen a ghost. Like she recognized him. "Tom." The name his employer had given him road out on a breath and he blinked hard, trying to make sense of the recognition he saw in her eyes. "Get him down."

Tolliver looked as confused as Jacob felt. "Elizabeth, do you know—"

"Get him down!"

Someone off to the side flipped the switch and Jacob felt the chain go slack. His feet flattened against the floor but his knees buckled, sending him crashing the rest of the way down. Keen was on the floor with him in an instant. "Hey. Easy. You okay? Tom, look at me."

He grit his teeth and forced his gaze up to her. She was close, her touch gentle as she checked a gash that had left blood streaked down the side of his face. She looked terrified. Haunted. He let her check him over without a word, not daring to contradict the name she had called him. If she knew Brigitte Tremblay somehow - the only reasonable scenario he could come up with, even if his employer had indicated she hadn't had direct contact with her and that Keen should never know he was watching her - this fed might be his only hope at getting out of this alive. Whatever layer of cover she was weaving, he'd roll with it.

Jacob met her eyes and there was a myriad of expressions battling each other for more than half a second on her pretty face. Relief and surprise, fear and confusion, and all of them underlined by something Jacob was having trouble reading. Sadness, maybe. It was hard to tell. She bent down, though, and pressed a surprising kiss against his lips. "How are you here?" she whispered, her tone a little desperate.

"Not in front of her," Jacob managed.

"She's my mother. I found her. She's—"

"Just had her thug beat the hell outta me."

Keen stopped a moment as if she were arguing with herself on what to do. Finally she looked back to Tolliver who was waiting more patiently than Jacob would have expected. "Did you know who he is?"

"He's the man that was outside of your apartment building. He bugged my hotel room, dropped another one on Simms."

"He's my husband."

Jacob schooled his expression as best he could at that one. Okay, this was getting stranger and stranger.

"Your husband is dead," Tolliver responded and Keen looked around to where Jacob was trying to straighten a little better even though he was still on the floor.

"They told me he was."

There was a long moment of indecision where the two women seemed to be waging some sort of war of the wills. Tolliver didn't want to go, that much was clear, but Keen wasn't backing down. Finally, it was Tolliver that gave, and she motioned her people out with a warning glare in Jacob's direction and a promise that they would be right outside.

"The key?" Keen prompted and Tolliver's blonde brows shot up. She frowned, but handed it over.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, Keen turned back to him. She worked to release the heavy cuffs from his wrists and, as they fell away, she looked directly at him. "I don't understand. Reddington said…. Cooper identified your body. How are you here? Was it Scottie? Did she….?"

Jacob watched as the woman that had just uncuffed him lost her battle with her own emotions and the tears that had been building started to spill over. She looked at him, desperate, and guilt tugged harder than he thought it ever could. He wanted to give her something - anything - to make the tears stop. He didn't know why, but he was halfway to reaching to thumb them away before he caught himself. "I don't know what you're talking about," he managed, his voice nearly as raw as hers.

"Where have you been?"

He shouldn't give anything away. He should play it safe until he had more information. He knew that, but even so, the next question tumbled from his lips without permission. "Do you know me?"

Keen stopped, choking down a sob and they sat on that cold floor in the middle of the warehouse staring at each other. "W-what do you mean?"

He shifted, trying to get his feet under him and she reached out. Her fingers touched his arms and she helped guide him up and steady him there, never breaking eye contact and he was fairly certain that those blue eyes of hers were cutting through to his soul. "I'm, uh… missing time."

"How much?"

Every inch of training screamed to shut up while every instinct somehow countered it, urging him to tell her anything she wanted to know. "Ten years. Well, starting about twelve years ago," he admitted softly. "Did we… meet during that?" They must have, and if they had then that meant Brigitte had been playing him. There was no other explanation for her handing over the same name that this woman was calling him.

"Yeah," Keen breathed and she reached up, her fingers soft against his bruised and bleeding face. "We had a family, a life. And then you died to…. help me find answers I didn't realize I needed to be looking for."

He pulled back from her touch. "Listen… I don't know what you think you know, but I'm not -"

"Jacob Phelps," she said firmly and he blinked in surprise. "You're missing ten years, so you're going by Jacob Phelps. They found you wandering alone when you were four, but you don't have any clear memories until you were nearly six and in your third foster home."

He pulled back a little farther. "Stop," he whispered, but she didn't.

"Frank and Eva Phelps adopted you when you were seven and you hated them. Frank was a drunk and Eva was useless. You have a scar here -" she reached around to the back of his head, fingers just above an old scar that wasn't visible beneath his hair - "where he broke a bottle over your head. You ran and the Major picked you up in New York City. He trained you."

"How could you know all of that?"

"Because you told me."

"I wouldn't tell anyone that."

"Not a mark. That's what you were thinking I was, right? Just a job?"

"Had to be."

"It started that way. I thought that was all it was, but it wasn't. Tom -"

"That's not my name."

"It was the name you chose. With me. With us."

He felt like he was drowning. Emotions of every shape and size crashed over him like waves that threatened to pull him under. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't focus. All he saw was this woman that he only recognized from a file standing there and rattling off the most intimate details of his life that no one knew.

She reached for him and he pulled away.

"Tom."

"I don't know what kind of game this is," he managed, stepping back, "but I'm done. She can't pay me enough for whatever angle she's playing."

Keen blinked at him, confusion replacing desperation. "Who?"

"The woman that hired me."

"Who is she?"

He shook his head, ignoring the headache that spiked as he did. "Doesn't matter. I'm done. I'm out. Good luck with Mommy Psycho out there."

Jacob didn't give himself half a second to let her talk him out of it. Instead he turned, starting for the far south exit. Unless Keen either called for help or Tolliver had the place surrounded, he should be able to slip out before they caught up with him. He'd be gone and never look back.

But why?

He shoved the inconvenient question down hard. For the first year or so after waking up to ten missing years he'd wanted nothing else but to find them again. There were so many missing moments, so many questions that the answers didn't quite fit. He'd wanted it more than anything, but it hadn't mattered. No one had the answers and no one could fix whatever had happened to his brain. The memories were gone and he had had to make a decision: move on or go slowly insane.

Jacob had moved on. He'd chosen to move on and it had worked out well for him right up until Brigitte Tremblay shoved him into this chaotic nightmare.

This woman - Keen, a fed of all things - swore they'd been together. She'd called him her husband.

He didn't remember her, even if he was strangely drawn to her. It didn't matter. Deep pocket clients with vague job descriptions were always more trouble than they were worth, and this was no exception. He was done. He was going home.

------

After she had woken up - after Reddington had told her that Tom was dead - Liz had dreamed about him nearly every night.

Some dreams were nicer than others. Playing with Agnes, teasing moments, Tom's laugh…. But others were nightmares that left her with her face pressed into the pillow so that her sobs didn't take Agnes up. Garvey's men in their home and Tom bleeding out in front of her. There was one where they were chatting in the kitchen. Agnes was in the living room getting ready for school, Tom was cooking breakfast and teasing her about something, and she asked him a question. When he didn't answer she turned in time to watch him fade away, all traces of him gone from their lives.

This was worse. It was like a waking nightmare. Two and a half years after her husband was murdered, after a man she trusted had ID'd his body, after she and their daughter had done everything they could to pick up the pieces of their lives, there he was.

And he couldn't remember her.

It was like the universe was playing a sick joke on her and she had no idea how to even begin processing it. With the way he left, she might never get the chance to.

Liz had told Katarina what she knew, and that was that she had no idea what was happening. Yes, she'd been told her husband was dead. Yes, she was certain that was Tom. She knew him. And he was off limits. If she ran across him again she needed to call Liz immediately. She'd handle it.

And then Liz had left. She was emotionally spent and she had a sting first thing in the morning. If she was lucky, she might catch a couple hours' sleep before meeting Krause to coach him through the plan one more time.

When she had left Agnes had been asleep and Ressler had looked ready to crash out on her couch as soon as the door was locked behind her. At some point Agnes must have woken up to find her unsuspecting Uncle Donnie there and conned him into letting her stay up. The result was a surprisingly well constructed fort that was complete with what looked like a chair from the breakfast table to hold up the quilt acting as the roof that stretched over and used part of the couch and several pillows to hold the front 'flap' open. Peeking out from inside was a familiar pink and purple sleeping bag and Agnes herself was snoring softly, using a stuffed puppy as a pillow.

It was Ressler that had Liz stopped dead in her tracks and desperately trying to choke back a laugh, despite the night she had had. Her partner, normally so put together, was asleep on her couch with a tea cup and saucer on the floor next to him like he'd fallen asleep mid-tea party. If that weren't enough, he was covered in glitter and had a tiara set precariously on his head so that his hair stuck out at odd angles around it.

Liz bit her lip as he stirred awake. "You were busy," she whispered.

Ressler blinked hard, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the tiara slipped from his head and clattered to the floor. Both adults cringed as the four-year-old turned inside her fort, but only managed to cuddle closer with the stuffed animal.

After a long moment Ressler sat the rest of the way up, swinging his legs around to stand. "Laugh it up, Keen," he said in a teasing, hushed tone. "You're the one that called in your big favour on babysitting duty."

"I needed someone I trusted and that's a short list these days." She let her gaze wander over to where Agnes was sleeping soundly. "How did she talk you into all of this?"

"Told me national security depended on it."

Liz choked on a laugh. "No."

"I swear she did," her partner chuckled, but the smile faded as he turned to look at her. "So what happened?"

Liz opened her mouth and then shut it again, not trusting anything swirling around her mind at the moment to make sense if she tried to explain it. She needed time to process. Time to figure out what the hell was happening.

Ressler sighed, drawing her attention back to him. "Listen, you don't have to tell me-"

"Ress…"

"-but I meant what I said. I'm here. Whatever you need. If it's watching the munchkin or backing you up when things go south."

"When?" Liz asked, struggling to keep tightness out of her voice.

The corner of his lips quirked up slightly. "When. I'm here. I'll be here."

Part of her wanted to tell him, to trust him, but the idea of even trying to put it into words that night left her more exhausted than she had been already. Instead she reached forward, her lips thinning out into something she hoped resembled a smile, and put a hand on his arm. "Thank you."

He offered her a tired, half-smile of his own and nodded towards the door. "I better get home to try to get this glitter washed off."

"Wouldn't want to show up to arrest The Collector looking like a party favour," Liz agreed and she watched him start for the door. "Hey Ressler?" He stopped and she swallowed hard to try to force the words out. When had it become so hard to be open and honest, even with the people that she cared about? "I trust you. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"And I'll tell you. Just… not tonight."

He watched her for a long moment before nodding, turning to leave without pushing it any further.

Liz waited until the door shut behind him and loosed a long breath. She'd been too optimistic. There was no way she was getting any sleep that night.

------

TBC

Notes: I feel like maybe I should duck for cover for separating them again. In my defense, though, they won't be separated for long, and I did offer up a glitter-covered Ressler by way of apology :P

Next Time: Reddington throws a wrench into their case, Liz chooses to trust Ressler with a secret, and TomJacob demands answers from Gina.

#the blacklist #Tom Keen #Elizabeth Keen #Donald Ressler

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rorykillmore · 4 years

Text

it’s @spearitsandmonsters‘ birthday today!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPEAR. as a gift, they requested an au fic for a dynamic we’ve been developing quite a bit lately, which we’ve affectionately dubbed villabeth. i picked “baby assassin villanelle breaks elizabeth out of her tower instead of booker”, which is an idea we’ve only loosely talked about, but something about it STUCK with me. so i hope i did it justice and i hope you enjoy, spear!!

and here’s wishing you a wonderful birthday <3 i know basically everything is difficult right now and while it goes without saying that i wish that wasn’t the case... i know that one of the things that helps me get through it and remember the good parts is talking to you and writing with you and having you for a friend. so i hope i can provide that same support and escape for you. if nothing else, knowing you for another year is absolutely worth celebrating in my book!!!

Oksana had expected someone pampered and spoiled, who might have turned up her nose or screamed at someone as rogueish-looking as her. Instead, Elizabeth is acting like she’s never spoken to another human being before in her life, and looking at her as if Oksana has suddenly become the center of her universe.

It’s a ridiculous thought, but it spurs another excited little flutter in her chest.

She doesn’t ask what her employers want with the city in the sky, or why it’s so important to them that Comstock’s heir doesn’t live long enough to succeed him. This had been one of the first in the long list of rules Dasha had taught her: never make your employers think you are interested in their plans or motives. Makes them nervous.

It’s Oksana’s first official job on her own, too, so she’s not about to fuck things up the second the Twelve have actually stopped breathing down her neck for five minutes.

A part of her wonders, though, if they’ve changed her minds about wanting her. Because for a first official assignment, the risk involved almost makes her think that her employers are trying to get rid of her.

She’s good, of course -- good enough to sneak through Columbia and up into Monument Tower without incident, but it had been far from easy. And now that she’s in, she feels like she’s breaching the site of a nuclear meltdown, or the cage of a bloodthirsty monster. When they had told her that the city’s heir needed to die, Oksana had assumed she would have to snatch her away from a life of luxury. She had allowed herself to begin to resent the other girl without even having met her, entertaining the image of some wealthy, ultra-religious, spoiled little brat who’d enjoyed so many things Oksana had never been allowed to even touch, had dreamt about stealing into some preposterously frilly and extravagant bedroom and smothering her with a pillow in the dead of night.

But this?

This is like a prison, or a laboratory, or something worse than both. Oksana fights to keep her hackles from raising as she stealths her way towards the last heavy steel door. What sort of person have they sent her to deal with?

She draws from her bag the replica key that one of the Twelve’s Columbia contacts had provided, and hesitates, weighing her options. She’d have liked to find a less direct method of entry, but her employers have cautioned her from making too much noise or disruption, lest she alert the tower’s unique security system.

So she’s going in through the heavy, reinforced door that looks virtually impossible to open subtly. Practically blind.

She doesn’t like that.

Oksana reloads her weapon. Whatever her mark might be capable of, whatever the reason she’s been locked up so tightly, it’s nothing that a quick shot to the head won’t take care of, surely. With her free hand, she inserts the key, which seems to trigger several other mechanisms within the door to whir and unlock, and then - carefully - she steps inside.

If it is a prison cell, it is the most impressive one she has ever seen. Oksana is standing in the doorway of something resembling a well-furbished library, like the kind you’d find in old castles or government buildings. It seems empty, so Oksana supposes that her target could be in one of the other rooms. Maybe the noise from the door opening will draw her out. Hopefully. Oksana does not fancy a game of hide and seek in unfamiliar territory.

Despite her mission, though, and despite the dedication and focus she is supposed to feel, curiosity tugs at the corners of her thoughts. She is not supposed to ask questions, and yet the pieces of a puzzle are set before her, and when she tries to put them together they do not quite make sense. Why keep the Lamb of Columbia here? Why go to all this trouble? What was with all the charts and laboratory equipment Oksana had passed on her way in, and why did they make her sound like some kind of monster in need of containment?

If she’s such a monster, why do they need her?

Perhaps it’s a terribly ironic question for Oksana to be asking. But she is an assassin, a perfectly crafted weapon, and that’s one thing.

She ventures a little further into the room, her pistol lowered but still held firmly in front of her. It’s only when she passes the staircase that she realizes something is wrong. A shadow moves out of the corner of her eye, and Oksana turns before she can process anything else, instinctual and immediate the way her mentors have always praised her for as she closes her hand around the girl’s wrist.

The girl cries out, and tries to jerk away from her grip. Once. Twice -- Oksana lets go the second time, so that she stumbles backwards and falls back against the bannister of the staircase she’d just hidden herself behind. Oksana is on her again in a second, pinning her easily and letting the barrel of the pistol dig into her ribs, her free hand now clamped over the girl’s mouth to keep her from screaming.

“Shh,” Oksana tells her, and she should end it right then.

Except --

The ‘monster’ has a much prettier face than Oksana had anticipated. Her eyes are a shade of blue Oksana can’t remember ever seeing for in her life, a little brighter and clearer than even Columbia’s skies, and presently blazing with rage or fear or probably both. She might be the around the same age as Oksana, or just a year or two younger, she has lovely dark hair that’s now just a little disheveled by their brief struggle, and she seems to be trying to bite the hand Oksana is holding against her mouth. Oksana feels her lips twitch briefly, despite herself.

“Shh,” she tells the other girl again. “Do not scream.”

Satisfying her growing curiosity is a bad idea. It will complicate things unnecessarily. Oksana knows Dasha would tell her to get the job done and then get out, but...

The questions do not count if nobody ever finds out she asks them, right?

“I did not come here to hurt you. You just startled me.” Oksana continues, softening her voice. It’s a lie, of course, but she takes a little bit of pride in how earnest she makes it sound. “If I take my hand away, you promise you won’t scream?”

The girl’s pretty eyes bore into hers, but they look less angry now, less scared, more... disbelieving? As if she isn’t quite convinced Oksana is real.

“Please?” Oksana tries, all but batting her eyelashes, and finally the girl nods. Oksana supposes she will just have to trust her. She lowers her hand and steps back, putting about a meter or so between them both, close enough that she can still move in if --

“How did you get in here?” the girl asks breathlessly.

Oksana blinks at the question. Then nods to the way she came in. “Through the door?”

She would find it funny, the way the girl gapes at her suspiciously in response, if she wasn’t also so confused. “You can’t just come in through the door, there’s no way -- no one ever --”

“They put a door there, then told you you can’t use it?” Oksana widens her eyes deliberately. “Wow. Really cheap con.”

“It’s not exactly like I have a key on hand.” The girl crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes, though she also doesn’t take them off Oksana for a second. “Who are you?”

Oksana opens her mouth to answer -- then remembers herself midway.

“Villanelle. My name is Villanelle.” A name new enough that it doesn’t quite feel like hers yet, but it will. Oksana already likes the way it rolls off her tongue. “What is your name?”

“I’m Elizabeth,” Elizabeth tells her breathlessly, a bit too trusting for someone talking to a stranger who’s just broken into her home. And for someone locked up like a high-security prisoner. The longer Oksana talks to her, the more bemused she becomes. Elizabeth seems so... normal. “You -- you’re so --”

Oksana is not sure what she was going to say, but all speculation flies out of her head when Elizabeth seems to lose all impulse control and places her hands on either side of Oksana’s face. “-- Real.”

As a rule, Oksana does not like people touching her face. Bad memories, and all -- from more than just one source. But this touch is gentle (and confusing) enough to give her pause, to cause a strange flutter in her chest at the softness of it.

She should be wary, perhaps. Anna had once touched her this way, and Anna... had not been what Oksana expected. Elizabeth is not what Oksana had expected either, but in a different way. Oksana had expected someone pampered and spoiled, who might have turned up her nose or screamed at someone as rogueish-looking as her. Instead, Elizabeth is acting like she’s never spoken to another human being before in her life, and looking at her as if Oksana has suddenly become the center of her universe.

It’s a ridiculous thought, but it spurs another excited little flutter in her chest. “Yeah?” she answers belatedly, uselessly, to break the silence.

As if she’s suddenly become aware that she’s violated some social norm, Elizabeth drops her hands and steps back, slightly abashed but no less curious. “Where do you come from? You sound like you’re from far away. Your name -- it’s French, isn’t it?”

“Latin, technically,” Oksana says, composing herself and quirking an eyebrow. “Like the poem? You must have time to read a lot of poetry.”

“You have no idea.” Furtively, longingly, Elizabeth glances towards the door like she’s readying herself to bolt. Then her gaze snaps back to Oksana, like no matter how taken she may or may not be by the appearance of a pretty stranger in her tower, she’s abruptly remembered that it’s a good idea to be at least a little suspicious. Her eyes drop to the pistol in Oksana’s left hand. “Why are you here?”

This is it, Oksana thinks. The moment where she shrugs as casually as anything in the world, answers ‘to kill you’, and finishes the job point blank. But she doesn’t move. The hand on the pistol doesn’t even twitch.

“Uh,” she answers instead, grasping idly for something that makes sense. “To rescue you?”

Wouldn’t that be hilarious. If Oksana decided suddenly that she would whisk this girl away with her, and then they’d spend the rest of their probably-short lives dodging not only Columbia’s forces, but the Twelve’s if they ever made it out. Oksana knows - has been warned over and over again - what the Twelve do to traitors.

Elizabeth seems speechless beyond words, so Oksana adds quickly, “Why do they keep you locked up in here, anyway? Did you do something bad?”

Elizabeth opens her mouth uncertainly. Then closes it again. Then laughs. “You mean someone sent you here to rescue me and they didn’t tell you that?”

“I didn’t say anyone sent me,” Oksana corrects her. “I decided to.”

Has she really? She watches Elizabeth closely, as though Elizabeth is the one who can answer that for her. “The security measures outside this room -- you would think they had locked up a mass murderer, or a radioactive mutant, or something,” she adds, a humorous way of prodding for answers while she thinks.

“I guess --” Hesitation laces Elizabeth’s tone as she answers. “I guess it’s because of what I can do.”

What can you do? Is the obvious question. But the one Oksana asks instead is: “People think you are dangerous?”

Elizabeth shrugs minutely, the look in her eyes unreadable.

And Oksana feels something in her soften a fraction. “I was locked up once.” Albeit in not nearly as spacious a cell as this. “People think I’m dangerous too.”

The seconds pass as Elizabeth watches her, until Oksana almost itches under her searching gaze.

“Will you leave with me?” Elizabeth asks finally.

Oksana gives her a rueful smile. “Where do you want to go?”

This had not been the plan. Can she risk what she’s made for herself for the sake of her own curiosity? For a pretty face?

Elizabeth exhales quietly, shakily, like she still can’t believe she isn’t dreaming. “I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”

How about for someone who’s a little like she is? Who, in only the span of a few moments of knowing one another, has made Oksana feel a little less alone?

“I have been to Paris many times.” Oksana steps forward, closing most of the distance between them, her gaze intense. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Soft,” she remembers Dasha spitting at her, “You are too soft for them, still. You need to work harder, try harder, show them how lethal you are.”

Oksana grins a faint sharp grin. Dasha would never have the guts - or perhaps the reckless stupidity - to do what she is about to do. She reaches out and touches Elizabeth’s hair, tempted to pull it out of his ribbon. Instead, she simply twirls a lock of it around her finger. Despite the unchecked contact Elizabeth initiated only moments ago, she freezes under Oksana’s touch, and Oksana’s grin softens into an ever-so-slightly smug smile. “Once we leave, you know... you would not be able to come back.”

She waits to see what Elizabeth will do, but Elizabeth doesn’t flinch or pull away or even waver. Her eyes locked with Oksana’s, she just breathes, “Why would I want to?”

“You haven’t seen the world outside yet.” Oksana takes another step. It’s another challenge, but Elizabeth does not back away, and now they’re so close that they practically breathe the same air. “You might find you would prefer your cage.”

“Did you?” Elizabeth challenges her, and Oksana laughs breathily. It’s a good response. She thinks maybe she will enjoy this, no matter the consequences in the end.

“Okay,” she says suddenly, and pulls away. Elizabeth’s expression dims slightly -- maybe with uncertainty, or even disappointment. Oksana wonders for a moment if Elizabeth had expected her to kiss her. Would she have been Elizabeth’s first kiss?

She somehow likes the idea of that, but... perhaps not here. So she offers her hand instead. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Elizabeth’s hand is soft in her own as she takes it, but there’s something about the recklessness of her smile that makes Oksana wonder if it’s the rest of the world that needs a warning.

#i wrote this operating under the assumption of #'elizabeth wouldnt be as immediately hostile towards a pretty girl as she was towards booker'#i hope i was correct.#also villanelle is a useless bisexual but what else is new #guess how many times i almost typed 'villanelle' instead of oksana. it was a lot.#anyway HAPPY BIRTH!!!!#i figured i might as WELL post this early since i had it done #and i figured you might be busyish tomorrow #fic

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monicalynnthings · 4 years

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My Experience Working at TT Electronics and Why I was a Bad Candidate

I didn’t sign the exit interview so I can talk about it.

The last two years that I spent in Corpus Christi, TX working for TT Electronics would seem to most like something out of a sci-fi horror film. I can reference two documentaries that detail similar experiences. Had certain events not fallen into place it is likely this story would have never been told. Most people who have worked for TT Electronics would deny the events that took place, but it makes no difference to me if anyone believes me or validates what happened. I’m writing this because there isn’t really anyone that it makes since to talk to about this. The only conclusions that can be drawn from any of this is that there truly are undocumented atrocities within our government agencies and that there are a number of reasons why I was never going to be a good candidate to be lured into one of these programs. So now I’ll tell you all of the things I’m not supposed to say.

The events that occurred as a result of me working at TT Electronics were not random. Some background information is needed leading up to that to fully understand. Something my father will never talk about, and even deny, is that in college his nickname was “Spook” in reference to Einstein’s Spooky Theory. I never put the reference together until recent years because if we would ask him about it he would tell us the nickname came from being short and he would sneak up on people, or something to that affect. If he actually had come to any conclusions to expand on this theory I always thought he would have done so years ago. He would never talk to me about anything like that so any work I did later in life relating to that was completely independent. Part of the reason I resent the notion of people having some sort of profound purpose is because my being born was likely the result of some crazy idea for a science experiment. I also understand the irony in that statement now, but I’m not my father (I’ll elaborate on this more, we have completely different intentions). I was walking around unassisted at 7-months old and was pulled out of class fairly regularly during elementary school for extensive testing. I was never really allowed to have friends over other than the neighbors I lived around. A lot of the early details I was never given an explanation about. Now as an adult my parents have made it abundantly clear that I am of no value to them or their business.

When I started working at TT Electronics it seemed like a normal place to work and most people had worked there for a long time so I assumed it would be a good company to work for. The only thing that seemed odd to me when I was first hired was that many of the employees seemed to argue more often than previous companies I had worked at and they hired me just before starting to lay people off. I have always been an exceptional employee so after being an electro-mechanical technician for almost two years I was promoted into a new position because of some of my qualifications from my military experience and my assertiveness in taking initiative to improve the maintenance department. I always made it a point to keep my personal life and work life separate so I never spent time with anyone outside of work until after my ex-boyfriend and I unexpectedly broke up, and even then my involvement with anyone from work outside of work was minimal.

I first started to notice something was going array at my place of employment was when I got my boyfriend a job with the company. I later learned that it was part of the process to break us up. Employees would spread rumors, my boyfriend was moved to work a different shift, and at one point he was unknowingly given drugs that caused his behavior to change. He would become very easily agitated and argue with me until it became unbearable and I was worried about him. Still not fully understanding what was going on I knew he would be better off with his family so after nearly seven years together I didn’t think I had another choice but to break up with him. We had always had a very honest relationship and told each other everything so I would have known if he had decided to knowingly use a drug at that time. I was also familiar with how some substances affected him since he sometimes struggled with anxiety. Medication for anxiety tended to make him very angry and that is how he started to behave. After he left things for me increasingly worsened.

I was promoted into a position intended to fail, so when I didn’t completely fail no one at the company knew what to do. Around the time I was promoted into an office job many employees left, most of them expressing that they didn’t agree with the direction the company was going. There was never any sort of signup sheet or consent form, nothing was ever fully explained, only vague comments were made that I was going through some sort of training. At one point when I was having a difficult time with everything one of the engineers showed me a file cabinet that was filled with files about me. After going through Marine Corps training I knew that in some training it was not always in my best interest to excel. I was under the impression at that time that they didn’t expect me to make it through the training so I helped empty the file cabinet into the trash. One employee told me that they didn’t like the people who worked there to be too clean, this way if anyone tried to come forward and explain what happened they could be discredited. I was unknowingly given drugs in my food and drinks and then observed to see how I would respond or how my behavior would change. I wasn’t only drugged at work, but the food in my apartment and my dog were also regularly drugged. When I tried to say something was wrong people tried to make me think I was losing my mind. They underestimated me. I confirmed I was being given methadone and barbiturates by taking an at home drug test. At the time I took a prescription antidepressant so it wouldn’t have made any sense that I would willingly take either of those. I woke up in the middle of the night that day to hear someone I thought I could trust laughing with my roommate at the time about how I didn’t like being drugged. I finally had to give my dog away because she wouldn’t eat her food and was constantly getting sick. I lost so much weight at one point I barely weighed 100lbs., but everything still continued. This was also part of the process, to separate me from anything I cared about. I was referred to as a “thing” at work, trying to minimize me to something less than human. Separating me from anything I cared about also extended to being separated from my daughter. I love being a mom more than anything, but this was also taken away from me. I always struggled with not understanding why this happened. After serving my country my rights and freedom were taken away from me. My daughter was told I was a junkie, she was told to call another woman mom, and I was even given hormones without consent to prevent me from being able to be a mother because it was something I wanted. The worst part was that my parents were fully aware, and even supportive, of what was going on. My father finds it funny to taunt me, letting me know that he knew what was going on.

I was always somewhat of a perfectionist, but this was taken to an even more extreme level during the time I worked at TT Electronics. At work there were times when working on something on my computer, or giving a presentation I would start to hear a strange sound throughout the building and would start to feel odd. Whatever it was made it more difficult to focus and anytime I did something wrong or differently than normal I would hear the strange noise and start to feel like my head was being scrambled. I had to do everything perfectly or there was a punishment. I was like a literal concentration camp or sorts. I was expected to perform the same under all conditions.

In addition to being drugged at my apartment there were also times when something was distributed through the air ducts. There were times when I wouldn’t sleep for days or the opposite would happen, I’d be completely exhausted. As part of the supposed training I was led to believe was being conducted my apartment was broken into in the middle of the night while I was sleeping. I am usually a light sleeper so my immediate response was to grab the gun I kept in my bedside table and clear my apartment. This didn’t happen again since I of course had real bullets loaded. What did happen though was that I would be sedated, I assume through the ventilation air ducts, and people would come into my apartment in the middle of the night and inject something into my neck. I started to really notice the injections after getting a suntan and spots appeared on my neck. I wasn’t supposed to remember what happened during these night visits, but I did remember. When given truth serum, rohypnol, and small doses of anesthesia I was still able to remember what happened, and that was not the expected result. So again, most of this was never meant to be told. It would have been better for the company for me to end up going crazy, ending up in jail, or even dead, which they would have been completely okay with happening.

I was also exposed to different illnesses, I assume to see what I was immune to. What should be infuriating to the public is that I was usually exposed to some sort of illness before one of the few times I let on vacation, meaning I would be exposed to an illness of some sort and then sent out into public airports or other public areas putting others at risk of also getting sick. Luckily, I didn’t actually get sick very often. Apparently the company liked to employee veterans, especially those who had been deployed because we would have received more vaccinations than most. Apparently I became ever more interesting to observe because I wouldn’t always respond in the way expected.

I had always kept a secret about my daughter and myself. I became fairly in tune with varying degrees of telepathy from a young age. I knew it was something I could never tell anyone so I always kept it secret. My daughter and I kept secret that we were always able to communicate with each other. Things became rather interesting when someone at work started to figure this out. No one was ever supposed to know. I would be given truth serum and asked questions about my military training and about my daughter and I communicating. Not only could I remember things on truth serum, I also gave false information. I started testing the people who were supposed to be testing me. At work they didn’t know what to do with me anymore. I wasn’t doing drugs so there were concerns about me talking to anyone about what was going on. The company needed me to stay “dirty” so my credibility would be questioned. At this point I’m sure anyone reading this probably has some questions for me. Why did I stay for as long as I did for starters? There isn’t a single answer to this question. I knew if I left without proof of what was going on no one would believe me, people would think I was crazy. Not that I’ve ever been one to care much what other people think but after everything I’d already lost it was important to me to know I could prove the people where I worked were wrong. I was also concerned about some of the other employees who worked there and wanted to help them if at all possible, even if that meant having to deal with a lot of my own turmoil. Really, I didn’t have anything else to lose. I also couldn’t leave. Everything I did was watched and my finances in many ways controlled. I couldn’t go to my parent’s house because I knew members of my family were aware of what was going on. When I did get back to my parents house this was confirmed by finding more marks on my neck from injections. My parents are just as guilty as the people I worked for at TT Electronics. Some of the events that I knew my parents knew about I would have never allowed to happen to my daughter. We always want to think the most of those we are related to, and I would have never spoken against my parents without good reason.

I’ll elaborate more on my parent’s involvement with by explaining what happened next. You’ll never find accurate information about the STAR program, but I’ll tell you what I know about it. My understanding is that it was a program geared at exploring communication, specifically geared toward telepathy. There was never any conclusive evidence and the program ended up as more of a failed investment by the US government. TT Electronics is actually based in the UK. This was also never something that a manufacturing plant that makes electrical components would be involved in. A microchip manufacturing plant should also have no involvement in the above-mentioned events or what I am about to speak of. Since I wasn’t doing drugs TT Electronics needed me to be involved in something that would be damning to my reputation and credibility to protect themselves. At this time things were starting to go downhill for the business with decreased orders. There was more emphasis placed on projects that were out of the scope of the business objectives and backend trafficking and prostitution to makeup for lost profit. You can read on glassdoor.com about the local management having God-like complexes and not treating employees well. The men in the management staff would actually lead women to believe that if they had sex with them they would somehow have special powers. I honestly found some humor in this absurd notion. While it’s known to improve relationships pushing that some people could give you special abilities through intercourse seemed farfetched. Before this the company tried to sell people on the idea that these injections were the secret to better communication. Without going into unnecessary details about this the company started experimenting with this idea which resulted in selling sex and unconsensual pictures, films, and in-person observations in conference rooms at work. The other idea was that my eggs could be sold without my permission and that somehow the same result could be achieved. My parents supported both of these ideas. My fathers reasoning for why my opinion did not need to be taken into consideration was that since I couldn’t get it right the first time, referring to me being divorced and my daughter not living with me (even though the circumstances of both of those events were not my fault), that I shouldn’t be allowed the opportunity to try again. There are so many things wrong with anyone having that much of a say in another able-bodied persons life. Besides, they were benefiting so they didn’t care. After everything my daughter and I have been through they thought this magical process could be minimized to sex being the answer, so why did no one figure this out before? To try to get me to comply with this prostitution venture I was promised many things, people even going as far as to try to lead me to believe that someone would help me with getting my daughter to live with me.

I love myself too much to sell myself so that didn’t happen, yet another problem for TT Electronics and anyone else who knew what was going on. My daughter is awesome so we’re both obviously great. The issue with the company telling everyone my secret was that after working at TT Electronics I had to be very careful who I worked for next, not wanting the wrong people to try to benefit from intellectual property that didn’t belong to them. As it currently stands any mothers who agreed to the original process created by TT should expect to separate from their children at age 2, that’s what they signed up for knowingly or not. Although I don’t see how someone could argue they didn’t know. They need another process to corroborate the events that are claimed to be key to mine and Faith’s relationship and communication. The only way to try to prove that is by showing it makes a difference in another mother-daughter pair. I want nothing to do with that process. I also can’t elaborate any further on the details of my personal research. So much could have been avoided if someone had just asked me in the beginning what was going on.

I never had a drug problem. I had a problem with people entering where I resided without permission. I had a problem with those who claimed to be close to me lying to me. I had a problem with not really having control over my own life (being lead to believe I did, but we know that’s not true). I had a problem with anything I cared about being taken away until I just stopped crying. I had a problem with needing to escape. Might I remind you all that there was no problem until the fear of what I loved the most being taken, and then it happened. I never wanted anything to do with any of it and never had a choice either. I quit!

References

The Fifth Estate. (2017, December 15). Brainwashed: The Secret CIA Experiments in Canada - The Fifth Estate [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i82trFGtY24

NATGEO. (2008, March 6). CIA Mind Control | CIA Secret Experiments [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUW-frxo2X4

After moving back to Texas to work for another company something similar happened again. I filed for a Protective Order June 2, 2021 against a Bell employee after complaints to HR and on June 4, 2021 a letter was drafted to terminate in retaliation. Please review the following emails of Wrongful Termination:

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aspire-to-the-light · 5 years

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Some personal thoughts on alcohol

I’ve always been a little scared of alcohol.

I have good personal reasons to be a little scared of alcohol. My father was something of an alcoholic; he’d stay out late at the pub, drive home drunk and yell at my mother (at least until he was given a DUI with me in the passenger seat, at which point my mother made him stop). Many of the people I knew in school started drinking very underage, at not-really-that-secret parties in back gardens and attics and locations which weren’t usually literally ‘behind the bike shed’ but are well described by the phrase. Those alcoholic parties caused problems. This was an upper class kind of thing, so nobody really got arrested, but a lot of girls were repeatedly raped. I was a lonely miserable nerd who never ever drank and I was pretty attached to that because it seemed like it kept me safe.

I also have good non-personal, fairly objective reasons to be scared of alcohol; it’s a fairly dangerous drug. It’s not that inherently dangerous, but the culture around it makes it more dangerous. Many people and spaces will encourage or pressure you to drink more than you really consent to drinking, downplay the risks and fail to implement safeguards, and normalise intoxication to the point that doing stupid things while dangerously drunk seems funny. Plenty of people get hurt or die, all the time, because they got drunk and ended up in fights or car accidents.

Earlier this year I decided to try alcohol anyway, for a myriad of reasons. Partly I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Partly I wanted to stare the demon in the face, and understand more about this terrible substance that fucked up so many people I knew. Partly I was interested in the general idea of a drug that might make me relax for once in my life, and alcohol was the only really legal one.

So I had three units - an amount I calculated as enough for someone of my body weight to be affected but not be at any real risk of poisoning - of cider, at home with somebody I trusted to take care of me and ensure I didn’t do anything stupid. My sitter was fantastic and made sure I didn’t spend any money, post anything publicly, or send badly spelled emails to any potential employers.

So I washed up all my dirty dishes, because as it turns out, alcohol lowers your inhibitions. I was really fucking inhibited about touching that pile of mouldy plates. Alcohol made me want to clean them all.

And then when it was wearing off I lay down for a bit, and had this incredibly lovely experience of just lying down being enough. See, I have the kind of ADHD where boredom is literally ever-present and must be fought against constantly. I can’t ever just lie down and relax, because I wouldn’t be stimulated enough, so I’d be bored, and I’d get the urge to jump up and run around and sing loudly and do stuff. I can be listening to loud punk rock music and talking to friends while playing a fairly intense video game and still need to pick my phone up and multitask a bit more so I won’t be understimulated. Scrolling social media can provide a sort of brief respite by being hypnotic enough that I don’t care that I’m incredibly bored, but usually I struggle to feel really good and happy if I’m not hosting a party where I’m juggling cooking five different meals, singing along to music and talking to guests about difficult academic problems. I think a good life for me would be, like, a 24/7 high speed car chase with the radio blasting and people fighting hand-to-hand through the car windows.

So there I was, just lying in bed looking at the walls and the ceiling and daydreaming quietly, and.... it was okay. It didn’t take any active effort to suppress my urge to be loud; it was just natural to be quiet. It wasn’t painful to stay still. My brain didn’t itch. The silence wasn’t deafening - if anything it was a pleasant kind of quiet, and I could appreciate the little rustles of carpet underfoot and the breath of air through the cracked window. I didn’t need to get up and jump around and do something, because it was perfectly fine to just be there where I was. The way my lamps honeyed the wood of my cabinets was pretty, and my own thoughts were engaging, and the blankets were warm, and that was interesting enough that I didn’t need to go seek out more.

That was really good, and wasn’t at all like the experience I had imagined. I had imagined alcohol as this thing that strips away your civility and gives you random impulses to do stupid things, with the particular impulses varying from punching people to trainsurfing to lying on the floor giggling depending on unpredictable facts about your brain. It does affect everyone differently, but for me it mostly just magically created the kind of state of relaxation that I’d normally have to work very hard on building the circumstances to achieve.

Okayness with the world has been easier to achieve, I think, since then; I have a better idea of what it feels like, so I know what I’m trying to achieve.

I’d said beforehand that I was just going to try it once, just because I wanted to know, and then never again. It was sort of difficult to admit that I was wrong. Partly because it’s just always difficult, when you’ve been very proud of Not Conforming To Normality for many years, to admit that normal people kinda had the right of it. Partly out of what I think is still a legitimate concern that trying something and finding it good is not good evidence for doing it again if that thing is known to be addictive. It is useful and important to be able to commit to trying only so much of an addictive thing and then stopping.

I changed my mind because I trust myself more than I did before. I was fixed on the idea that I needed to never have alcohol, because that was the only way to ensure I didn’t have a bad amount of alcohol. Sometimes commitments like that are necessary, but only if you have a good reason to be afraid that there’s a slippery slope. I know that I need to play no Minecraft at all today, because if I say to myself “just five minutes” I’ll play Minecraft for hours; I have lots of experience and evidence that tells me this will be the case. I decided I believed in my ability to discern what a sensible amount of alcohol to consume is, and stick to it, and so far I haven’t had evidence to the contrary.

I’ve been able to relax the limits as I learned more about alcohol, in a way that genuinely doesn’t feel like I’m ignoring my commitments as I get addicted; it feels like growth. The first time I tried it I was adamant about a lot of limits. I bought a single can of cider so it would be impossible to have more even if I wanted to. I made sure I had a sitter I trusted. I did not leave my room. I ate beforehand and drank a lot of water during. I did a lot of research on alcohol content and my body weight. I didn’t take my normal medications because I wasn’t sure if there’d be any interaction.

On subsequent occasions I’ve tried alcohol outside the house - again with the same person I trusted to look after me, who held my hand carefully to make sure I didn’t stumble in front of any cars. I’ve tried it relatively unplanned, after an ordinary day where I took my meds (I looked up possible interactions and found none) and did normal things, again with the OK of someone I trusted just to make sure I wasn’t making really dumb decisions. I’ve tried it on a day when I had also drunk caffeine, after I was confident the caffeine had all worn off and I wasn’t having enough of either to hurt me.

I’ve tried alcohol without anyone physically present to take care of me, just friends on a voice call, and had an insanely good time playing video games with some other drunk people who all thought it was hilarious to play the game how it was absolutely not meant to be played. I knew by that point how alcohol affected me, I was fairly certain nothing bad would happen, and I knew I would be capable of calling for help fairly nearby if something bad did happen. I knew I would be staying inside the entire time, and I had water and well-stocked food cupboards.

Most recently I had a glass of champagne for New Year, outside of the house, without a pre-designated person to look after me. I was with friends, and I made them aware that I’m a lightweight and checked in with them that they’d be okay with taking some responsibility for making sure I got home alright, and they were. I ate a decent meal beforehand, drank plenty of water, and had a fairly small glass.

I’ve learned that I have not, whatever my fears, inherited some kind of genetic alcoholism. I don’t need absolute, deontological rules to prevent any chance that I might do something stupid. I am capable of not doing anything really stupid, even when my rules allow me to do things that are stupidity-adjacent.

I’ve definitely fucked up with alcohol. I shouldn’t have accepted half a glass of wine when it was offered at a work celebration; I knew I was going home immediately afterwards, but didn’t realise how incredibly overwhelming and intimidating alcohol would make navigating the Tube, and I got quite distressed and had to take a taxi to the rail station. I tried using it as a study drug once, on the theory that I’m inhibited about studying and maybe it would help, and I fucked up by choosing someone to watch me who has severe depression. Her mood influenced my own a lot more when I was tipsy, so we both just kind of sat around and felt miserable and I didn’t get anything done.

I think I’m okay, though, with having rules that don’t try to prevent anything bad from ever happening, but just minimise how bad things can really get. I’ve fucked up with alcohol and it’s cost me the price of a taxi and a half-day of productivity. I learned things. It was okay.

I can still count the number of units of alcohol I’ve ever consumed, but it will be okay if I lose count, because I don’t need to be able to tell people that number to prove I’m not my father’s daughter. I know I’m responsible. It is healthy if I don’t feel the need to prove it.

I have rules about alcohol which I genuinely don’t think I’ll ever relax, no matter how experienced with it I get, and other rules which I’ve added as I learned that some things are bad ideas. I won’t have alcohol in the company of people who I don’t like and trust. I won’t have alcohol with other people unless they’ve consented to taking a little responsibility for me. I won’t have it alone, though physically alone is fine if there’s people connected by voice or video. I won’t have it if someone I respect tells me it’s a bad idea to do that right now. I will not be pressured into having more than I intended to have. I won’t drink it at work, or in big cities, or when there’s a difficult transit system between me and home. I make sure that I have food and verifiably-not-spiked water available, that I know how to call for help and that it’s nearby if needed, and that I don’t have important or difficult tasks that I’m responsible for.

I’m still horrified when I witness things like... I did an internship in the City this summer where our bosses took us for drinks and then people banged on the tables chanting to pressure an intern into racing to drink an entire bottle of wine faster than his supervisor. That was very bad. And I expressed my horror at the time, and frankly I don’t care that I didn’t get the job.

But I like alcohol. So, once a month or perhaps even fortnightly, it’s okay to have a drink. Even two drinks, on rare occasions. I have carefully studied the literature and concluded it is unlikely this is enough to cause me significant harm.

And I’m actually really pleased with this development. It feels from the inside like a healthy relationship to alcohol. It feels okay to let go of some of my younger self’s fearful commitments and rules. I’m proud that I can have this, that growing up around such unhealthy attitudes towards alcohol does not mean I have to be abstinent forever.

Being teetotal fit in with the identity I built for myself, once. I was the good kid in school, the one who never drank and never dated and got good grades and never swore. I think I needed that identity as a crutch when I wasn’t so sure of myself, and as help to resist peer pressure when I wasn’t so good at boundaries, and as a simple way of making choices when I wasn’t good at that either. But it turns out it’s okay to, piece by piece, let go of the entire thing.

I do not think this is grounds to recommend alcohol to everyone. I recently had a pretty appalling experience where someone in my friendship group got drunk and we all made the delightful discovery that excessive alcohol gives him psychotic episodes where he worships a mad death god who wants him to kill people. I have set a hard boundary that I will leave if this friend has more than a couple of drinks because I do not enjoy the experience of a friend giggling while graphically describing exactly how he’d love to slowly murder me. There are people who should not drink, not ever, not even with all the rules and limits that have successfully kept me safe.

It’s just... my experience, I guess, which I wanted to share because I feel like I’ve learned a lot through the entire process. Sometimes things that are scary can be genuinely dangerous, and yet if you navigate them carefully and responsibly, you can extract the wonderful part without ever placing yourself in much danger. Sometimes you don’t need hard rules that wall off the stupid things you could possibly do, if you trust yourself to just not do stupid things. Sometimes taking pride in never being tempted means you’re cutting yourself off from something good.

Alcohol still scares me a little, and that’s fine. It should. Just not irrationally so.

#alcohol #personal

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