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heartofsnark · 4 years

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This Is Love (Chapter Four): Through The Gates

Notes: We’re inching closer and closer to the Seed’s arrival, I know it’s a slow burn to the game events, but I’m enjoying building up to it and hope it will make the impact of it all just that much more meaningful.

Word Count: 9098

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, Belligerent Drunk Man, Drug Overdose, Pratt and Dahlia being dumbasses

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

A tall bearded man is on her porch; leaning against the railing. The familiar snake tattoos that curl down his forearms give him away; Lonny. The Eden’s Gate member who showed at the station to give her and Whitehorse a hard time. What is he doing at her trailer? There’s no reason for him to be here.

“Can I help you?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she steps up onto the porch.

“Just figured I’d stop by, make a friendly visit to the new deputy,” he expression is somewhere between a smile and a predator baring its teeth.

“And, how exactly did you figure out where I live?”

“Small place, loose lips, word spreads fast.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, now, if we’re done with this ‘friendly’ visit-”

“Word spreads especially fast within our congregation, when someone starts arresting our members.”

“Maybe, your congregation members shouldn’t commit crimes?”

“The law of man matters little compared to the law of god.”

“Well, I get paid to enforce the law of man, so unless god starts signing my paychecks, I’ll be sticking to that.”

“Greed isn’t a pretty sin.”

Goosebumps prickle and creep up her skin at the word sin, making her throat tight, as the word settles over her. Memories of her stepfather claw at the back of her mind, phantom pain of beatings past making her body ache, the guilt and shame of being a sinner pitting in her stomach. She digs her nails into the palms of her hands and grits her teeth.

“Yes, so greedy, as you can tell, I mean just look around, ” she gestures around the dilapidated trailer park, “the used needles a foot away from the kiddy slide cost me extra, but I think they really bring the place together.”

“Charming.”

“I do try.”

“Look, I’ll make this stupidly simple, for you,” Lonny creeps closer, nearly standing on her, glowering down at her, “don’t step on our toes and we won’t step on yours.”

“Is that so?” She grins and literally steps on Lonny’s toes, crushing her boot down as hard as she can, until he finally grunts in pain and takes a step back.

“Don’t make a problem out of yourself, deputy….” His dark eyes flicker around, until finally landing on the shed behind her trailer, “that where you keep your bike?”

“Maybe, maybe not, whats it to you?”

“You know, a little generosity goes a long way to mending relationships, deputy. That motorcycle of yours would be a nice little gift to the flock and most importantly, me.”

“Get bent.”

“It’s important that we all do our part, deputy. That everyone gives a little, so that we all can flourish. As we inch closer and closer to the brink; that becomes even more important. What’s yours is mine, so, which is more important, keeping your motorcycle or helping others?”

He’s in her space again, hand reaching out and squeezing her shoulder in a pseudo-friendly gesture; that not even almost friendly smile on his face again.

“I’d sooner watch the world rot than give up that bike. Now, get the fuck off my property.”

She shoves his hand off her shoulder and marches into her trailer; slamming the door shut behind her. Dahlia could scream, could tear apart her entire trailer in rage. Where the hell does that guy get off? Demanding her bike; the motorcycle she slaved over. Her and Lloyd rebuilt that thing from nearly scratch after his son wrecked it; left it abandoned in their shed, a muddle heap of metal left to gather dust. She helped rebuild it; just a project at the time, something to keep busy while she was waiting to see if she got accepted to the police academy, meant to stave off the anxiety. And when it was done, perfectly functional and shining like it was brand new, Lloyd told her to keep it, she deserved it.

There’s not a lot of things Dahlia’s felt she earned; feeling every success has been a fluke, a mistake, a moment of luck. But, she earned that bike. She nearly fought Lloyd’s son when he visited that holiday season; trying to reclaim the bike now that it was fixed and she refused. Lloyd sided with her; because she earned it. Because she put the work and hours into it. And she’ll be damned if she’s going to let some bearded zealot barge in and demand she give it up.

The more she learns about Eden’s Gate, the less she likes them. Stealing booze, trying to take her bike, trying to scare her. She needs a cigarette; she decides and pulls the pack from her pocket; only to find it empty. Damn it. Dahlia starts digging through tossed aside pairs of pants and jackets; she has to have a half empty pack somewhere. She grabs up her duffle bag, still mostly unpacked other than what she’s worn or used this week, rummaging through the pockets for a pack of cigarettes.

A crumpled piece of something brushes against her hand and she yanks it out; only to find a scrunched up white pamphlet. She straightens it out a bit and groans when she reads the front; Eden’s Gate, We Love You surrounding a cross like symbol. Why is this group all over everything?

Giving up on finding a cigarette somewhere in her mess; Dahlia changes into some comfy clothes and plops herself down on the couch, turning the small tv on as background noise more than anything. She finds herself fiddling with that pamphlet again, placed aside before she changed.

Dahlia opens it; if this damn group is going to haunt all her days here, she might as well read their crap. It seems to be fairly standard religious fare. Casted out? Rejected by society? Try Jesus. Take a leap of faith, wash away your sins, confess, atone, and become stronger by joining their family. There are mentions of how corrupt the world is and how it’s all going to end; nice appeals to fear mongering, always have to appreciate that approach. Every word of the dribble reminds her of darker days, of her step father and his asinine sermons. The type of people who’d probably make a PSA about how Dungeons and Dragons is satanic, Harry Potter should be burned at the stake, and Pokemon is an evil atheist agenda to push evolutionary theory on kids.

The leader; man bun guy, calls himself The Father. Those goosebumps and bad memories come back. She knows assuming that all strongly religious people are like her step-father isn’t the best practice. But mentions of sin and calling himself something regarding father, just… doesn’t help.

He calls his siblings heralds; a sister and two brothers.

Her eyes glaze over as she absorbs the same crap she's had spewed at her for years, thoughts of making a donation to planned parenthood in their name pass through her mind. She doesn’t know for certain if the group is pro-life, but one can assume. The picture on the second page of the little pamphlet catches her eye and she sputters out a laugh.

Who the hell runs the PR for this church?

First the creepy statue, then the serial killer-esque drawing on him to open their book, and now a family portrait so awkward she might cringe herself into a coma. Three men and a woman; siblings according to the text. Man bun is in a chair in the middle; not even making eye contact with the camera. The woman, Faith, the siren she’s seen at the hotel and accidentally grabbed outside the diner is on the floor beside the chair. She looks annoyed, like a teenager being dragged to an awkward family dinner. Behind them are the two brothers. One with slicked back dark hair in a coat that appears to be covered in planes; which is… a look. And the other a mountain of a human compared to his sibling; ginger hair with the sides shaved, in camouflage, holding a red rifle.

It all looks ridiculous, from their expressions to their poses. Whoever thought this was a good way to market them is the epitome of human stupidity. Dahlia crumples the little pamphlet and tosses it into the trash; thankful for a laugh to cap off her night. She spends an hour or so watching tv, drifting off to sleep on the couch as she’s done every night.. Eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each second, until black blankets her mind.

Her bladder wakes her up during the middle of the night, causing her to turn and flop around, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stares at the ceiling contemplating if she has to pee bad enough to warrant making herself physically stand up; the effort feeling herculean in the bleary twilight hours of the night.

“What if I told you, you could be free of sin,” a male voice drifts from the tv and she groans; this shit again?

She sits up on the couch, sliding down onto the floor with the clumsiness of her sleep leaden body. On her tv, at four am, amid commercials for sexy single phone lines is an infomercial for Eden’s Gate.

One of the brothers; the one with slicked back hair in the plane coat, John Seed as the text on screen tells her. He dramatically talks about how all you have to do is say Yes, the power of Yes, walking around what looks like a red carpet covered in flowers; terraces laced with them around him, a crowd gathered around as he talks.

Is he the reason for the Hollywood style YES sign in the valley?

The crowd around him starts to chant the word yes; he’s saying ‘yes, I will be saved’, ‘yes, I will confess’, ‘yes, I will atone.’ And he gestures upwards; revealing a lit up sign of the word YES and she bursts out laughing; her stomach aching and her bladder upset with her for it. Once her laughter subsides, she does what any good decent young adult would do. She rewinds it to the start of the infomercial, grabs her phone from the table, and records the cringefest to post online before finally going to the bathroom.

She goes back to sleep after, still cracking up about this dumb religion and their dumb advertisement.

Dahlia wakes up around noon or so the next day, checking her phone while still curled up in the couch. The post of the religious cringe has gotten some traction; someone making a reaction gif out of the guy gesturing to the yes sign. Jokes about how the guy must get off on the word yes, how insane it must have felt to be working on this, ‘imagine having a grown man in a plane coat telling you to chant yes while he dramatically touches his own tit’. The internet truly is a beautiful place sometimes.

She stretches out her muscles and decides to call the clinic, the one she gave info about to Tweak. Dahlia wants to make sure he actually reached out and didn’t just use her good graces to avoid trouble and call it done.

“Hey, I’m Deputy Hale of the Hope County Sheriff’s department, I referred someone to contact your clinic about rehabilitation. I was calling to see if they contacted you.”

“Of course, could I have their name?”

“Aaron Kirby.”

“Yes, we did receive a call from Aaron Kirby, he’s been placed on our waitlist as our drug counseling services are currently at capacity and we can’t take on any more clients.”

“Understood, thank you.”

She sighs; she can’t fault him for that. Hopefully, they’ll be able to get him in soon. Dahlia stretches, making her back pop, now what to do with the rest of her day. Maybe it’s Lonny trying to take her bike or maybe it’s the mention of those Clutch Nixon stunts yesterday; but she has an itch to go riding and do some stupid shit.

A quick shower and change of clothes; then she’s grabbing her helmet.

Music reverberating in her skull, the rev of her motorcycle engine beneath her, the wind whipping around her, and she’s healed from everything if only for a moment. Dancing and riding her bike are the only things to do this for her; or maybe it’s the music itself that does. But when her blood is pumping, her ears are ringing, and her throat is raw from screaming along to the songs; nothing else matters.

She’s not lonely as she takes a sharp turn right at the chorus.

She’s not sad or pathetic as she cruises down the road, passing cars.

She’s not a disgusting sinner as she takes one of the paths that goes through the woods.

She’s not rejected, worthless, and tossed aside as she hits one of the many ramps across the county, catching air before hitting the ground again.

Everything is pure chaos and adrenaline in her veins; no room for guilt or doubt or

Deer. Big deer, in the road, it isn’t moving.

She hits the brakes; the sudden jerk of a stop, pushing her body forward, losing her grip and being ejected forward. Dahlia hits the ground in a heap, head rattling but thankfully not split on the road. She forces herself to roll over on her back, body aching in protest. Her eyes close and she takes deep breaths, trying to gather herself.

Something fuzzy pushes against her hand, glancing down to see the large deer sniffing at her. It’s no worse for wear, so that’s good at least. She forces herself to sit up, body protesting, and she peels her helmet off. The deer shuffles back a little but when she extends a hand it tentatively presses against it. She scratches its nose.

“You’re very lucky you’re cute.” She digs around in her pockets, finding a pack of crackers, she always has food on her if she can help it and she offers the deer a cracker. It eats from her hand. Maybe she’s just trying to avoid moving her bruised body, but she spends a few moments finishing the little pack with the deer before finally forcing herself to stand.

Her motorcycle is in good shape, a little scuff on the side, but nothing she can’t buff out if needed. Dahlia’s baby remains the most stable part of her life. She rides it back to her trailer, a bit more carefully. She’s managed to burn through most of the day with her reckless bullshit.

She calls Lloyd and Caroline that night; telling them about her first week, skirting around details that might sadden them. Going to the F.A.N.G Center is reduced to just going there, nothing of being overwhelmed and leaving. No mentions of Pratt tricking her when she talks about Peaches, just an old lady with a cougar Dahlia got to carry. No mention of being left out everytime Pratt and Hudson go to the Spread Eagle. No mention of Lonny, the threats, the religious group that seems much more involved with the community than she originally thought. Everything is fine, perfect, ideal.

The pain of her little crash has mostly faded by the time she shows up to work the next day; uniform properly on when she comes into the station bullpen.

“What the hell happened to you?” Hudson calls out and Dahlia can’t help the heat crawling up her face at the attention. Her forearms and some of her upper chest that’s exposed are covered in bruises; mottling blues and purples.

“Oh, uh, I had a little bike crash yesterday.” She shrugs.

“Jesus christ,” Pratt grumbles and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Rook, you need a hobby,” Dahlia starts to say something, but Hudson continues, “one that doesn’t injure you.”

She likes to dance, but dancing completely alone isn’t as much fun, not awful but not as fun. And there's not exactly dance clubs in Hope County. Hmmm. Unfortunate. She shrugs, if her hobby kills her, it kills her.

During patrol, Pratt and her don’t talk about the F.A.N.G Center, they don’t talk about him being angry at her. An awkward cloud hanging over them as they patrol. She doesn’t even bother to ask to give tickets when they pull people over; already knowing Pratt won’t let her and not wanting the conversation. An emergency call to what’s called Sergey’s place breaks up the monotony, suspected overdose.

She digs her nails into the leather of her seat as Pratt flips on the sirens; what if it’s Tweak? Doubts of if she did the right thing running through her head. She wanted to help him; but if he ended up just being put on a waitlist and overdosing right after, how much good did she do?

Sergey’s place is a wooded area filled with abandoned train cars where homeless people and drug addicts gather. Dahlia rushes to where she sees a group of them gathered around; screaming and crying coming from the center.

“Clear the way, so we can help,” Pratt tells them, the crowd dispersing, a woman is seizing. Her entire body jerking and drool pooling from her mouth; another woman holding her close, crying over her.

“Did she take anything?” Dahlia asks.

“We were shooting up and then she was on the ground, I, it’s all my fault, I-”

“Understood, we’re gonna do everything we can to save her.”

Dahlia holds the seizing woman as still as she can, getting out the syringe of narcan that's kept in patrol cars. She plunges it into the woman’s arm, forcing the medicine into her system, watching as her seizing slowly starts to lessen. Removing it, she notices the large bruise and cut on the woman’s forehead.

“Dispatch,” Pratt radios in, “we need an ambulance out to Sergey’s place, confirmed overdosed, head trauma, female early twenties. Junior Deputy Hale has administered a dose of Narcan, over.”

Dahlia stays with the woman, to make sure she doesn’t seize again and hurt herself further. Meanwhile, Pratt clears the way and helps get the ambulance into the area when it arrives; the woman being taken away on the stretcher. They find out the one who was holding her was her sister, allowing her to go with her to the emergency room, while Pratt asks some questions of those who were around. Nothing suspicious; just an overdose, no one to blame.

The younger deputy sighs and a hand clamps down on her shoulder; gently squeezing. Pratt is next to her and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“We got here quick, she should be fine.”

“Maybe, lets get going.”

The conversation is still more than a little stilted as the day goes on; but it isn’t quite the awkward silence of before. Pratt making little comments and saying things, while she nods or hmms along.

Later in the afternoon, when they’ve stopped back at the station, for lunch and paperwork regarding the overdose. She yawns and stretches her arms, standing up from her desk to get coffee. Maybe she needs caffeine or maybe she’s just tired of sitting in one place; but either way she’s up and moving.

She rubs a hand down her face as she enters the kitchenette where the fridge and coffee machine are. Dahlia grabs her mug; one that was bought for her by Lloyd and Caroline. It’s a little embarrassing, the picture of a black cat with the message, ‘horrible and adorable.’

Warmth presses in close to her back, looming over her. The smell of Pratt’s cologne hits her just as a large hand plucks her mug off the counter. Pratt holding the mug high above her head.

“Hey!” She tries to grab it from him but can’t reach, Pratt grinning as she makes the effort to stand on her tiptoes but still can’t quite get it.

“Something wrong?” he smirks, “you can’t reach your kitty cat mug?”

“Can you go five seconds without being an ass?” She turns to face him, glaring at his shit eating grin, the mischief in his eyes as he crowds her and holds the mug just out of reach.

“Hmmmm, no. Can you go five seconds without pouting?” He reaches up with the hand not holding her mug hostage and cups under her jaw to squish her cheeks together and force her lips to pout out; laughing at her.

She smacks away his hand, making a grab for her mug, knocking against his chest in the attempt before he jumps back.

Dahlia whines and he just laughs, dodging her again as she tries to take her mug back. Her fingers can barely reach his face, let alone high above his head where he’s holding her mug hostage. She clambers to grab a hold of his bicep; trying to pull herself up high enough to grab it, laughing at the ridiculousness of trying to essentially climb her coworker to get her mug.

“Jesus christ, you fuckin’ spider monkey!” He nearly falls over, but catches himself and switches the mug to his other hand, placing it on top on the cupboards.

She glares for a beat, still hanging off of Pratt’s arm before letting go. Dahlia can’t even reach the top shelf in the cupboards.

“I’m actually going to strangle you.”

“Something wrong, Thumbelina?” He taunts and ruffles a hand through her hair, the gesture far more rough and teasing than when Whitehorse does it to comfort her.

“Yeah, my coworker is an ass.”

“Not my fault you’re short.”

“If I get dirt on the counter, you’re cleaning it.”

“What do you-” he bursts into laughter when she box jumps up onto the counter, grabbing her mug. The deep rumble of it makes her smile, it’s ridiculous, but he’s left her no choice.

“The hell are you doing, Rook?!” Whitehorses’ voice cuts through Pratt’s cackling and she jumps down with a yelp.

“Pratt did it.”

The older deputy straightens up, after nearly bending over doubled from his laughing fit. Whitehorse pinches the bridge of his nose, Dahlia swears she can see the migraine forming in his head.

“I didn’t do anything,” Pratt defends himself, “she managed that all on her own.”

“I, I just...no feet on the counter, that's where food goes, for fucks sake, ” Whitehorse looks from Dahlia to Pratt, “and no whatever you did.”

With that the sheriff leaves; weary of their bullshit. Dahlia jabs her fist into Pratt’s ribs, hard enough to jostle him but not enough to truly hurt.

“You got me in trouble!” She yells, sounding every bit a kid who just got ratted out to the teacher, and Pratt only snickers.

By the time Dahlia manages to get her coffee, her face hurts from smiling. The ache of happiness followed throughout the day, until Hudson and Pratt cap off the night with another day of chatting at the Spread Eagle, Dahlia left to go home alone.

The next day a call comes in from Adelaide Drubman, Hurk Sr’s ex wife who owns the marina as Dahlia’s been told. She’s seen advertisements around for the older woman’s real estate business, telling people to call Addie. The woman pictured on the signs of those advertisements is a fair representation, albeit maybe a little more airbrushed, of the woman standing before them when they arrive. Older with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, a red bandana tied in her hair. She’s all sly smiles and winks when she sees the two deputies walking towards her.

“Well, hey there, hon’,” she greets them, the southern Montana accent one of the strongest Dahlia’s heard since she’s arrived here.

“Hey, Addie,” Pratt replies in kind and Dahlia gives an awkward wave, “what’s wrong?”

What’s right, Dahlia can’t help but wonder as she looks at the property, clearly abandoned and dilapidated.

“Well, I think some squatters might have moved in on me, sweetheart. And, apparently threatening them with my gun is illegal, but having y’all run ‘em off with yours is fine. Go figure.”

“Yeah, the law is pretty picky about that kind of thing,” Pratt says with a laugh.

“I mean, I’m not complaining , at least I get a chance to see some young pieces of ass in uniform.”

Dahlia chokes and coughs; heat flooding up to the apples of her cheek. That was blunt. Really blunt. Pratt doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, maybe he’s just used to this. Despite her embarrassment, she’s smiling. Something about Adelaide is comforting, warm and friendly, the kind of person who doesn’t know a stranger. Dahlia remembers the gross curmudgeon of an old man that use to be her husband.

“Speaking of which,” Adelaide continues, looking at Dahlia, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, honey.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m new at the station.”

“Our probie junior deputy.”

“Adelaide Drubman, pleased to meet ya.”

“Uh, this might be impolite,” she pauses, rethinking for a moment, but she needs answers, “but were you seriously married to Hurk Sr?”

“Un-fucking-fortunately.”

“Did you lose a bet?”

Adelaide starts laughing and Dahlia can’t help but smile, the sound absolutely heartwarming.

“I’m serious; lose a bet, piss off a witch and get cursed, broke a mirror and had seven years bad luck… It’s gotta be something, ‘cause that just don’t add up.”

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing,” the older woman tells her, “word of advice, don’t let anyone tell you you gotta stay with a man just ‘cause he knocks you up.”

“I’d rather die.”

“Good, keep that mentality, save you years of suffering.”

“Okay, enough chat, let’s go check out the place,” Pratt says, nudging Dahlia to get a move on. She sticks her tongue out at him as they walk into the rundown house.

There’s trash strewn around, thankfully no needles or sign of drug users here. Adelaide must have a lot of trust in whoever she has cleaning these places up for resell. They pass through rooms, looking for anyone who’s not meant to be there, knocking on doors and calling out. Most of the house is cleared through and the two of them head to the attic, a good place for any squatters to hide.

The stairs creak under her feet as she takes them two at a time, moving ahead of Pratt in minutes. She hears him grumble, he tells her to slow down, but she doesn’t.

It’s dimly lit, some abandoned furniture and old antique crap littering the area; blocking the window that might have let in even a glimmer of sunlight. She flicks on her flashlight. The light illuminates the dust that hangs heavy in the air, drifting across her vision. Something rustles, a box shuffling across the floor.

“What was that?” Pratt asks as he finally joins her in the attic.

“I don’t know, yet.”

Scratchy noises echo through the room and she walks towards where she saw the box move. She crouches down and shifts the boxes out of the way, finding nothing but a dusty floor beneath them. Then something presses against her leg, a soft sniffing noise.

“Oh my god!” She gasps as she looks down at the cute opossum staring up at her; baby pink nose sniffing at her jeans. A white face, tawny gray almost black body, with big soft dark brown eyes, its wiry whiskers curling at odd angles.

“Is something wrong?!” Pratt yells out and comes rushing over, feet stomping across the floor; the heavy thuds making the opossum hiss and creep backwards.

“You scared it, jackass.”

“I,” he looks down at the hissing opossum, “I thought something happened.”

“Shhhhhh…”

Dahlia reaches out; tentatively brushing her fingers against its narrow snout, feeling the short slightly rough fur. The hissing stops and it sniffs at her hand, letting her scratch up its face to the top of its head. It relaxes into her touch and she scratches behind its ear.

“You can’t pet every animal, you meet, Rook.”

“Watch me,” she says before scooping the opossum up in her arms, holding it close to her chest. A tongue licks over her cheek, the marsupial content in Dahlia’s arms.

Pratt shakes his head and leaves the attic; Dahlia following him down the stairs. Adelaide is waiting outside the home when the two deputies exit.

“Good news, Addie-”

“I acquired a baby.”

“Jesus fuck,” Pratt rubs a hand down his face at her interruption, “there’s no squatters.”

“’Preciate ya coming out to check and taking care of the opossum problem.”

“I fail to see the problem.” Dahlia’s new friend is trying to climb up her head, licking her scalp.

“You really gonna try to sale this mess?” Pratt asks, rolling his eyes and ignoring the younger deputy’s new pet.

“It’s my best chance of making any profit anymore; those fuckin’ Seeds are buying up any place thats actually worth a damn thing. Flipping run down places is the only way to even hope of making money anymore. You know those bastards even tried to by the Marina.”

“They’re gonna own the entire county before we know it.”

Deputy Pratt shrugs his shoulders and Dahlia chews her lip; unsure if she likes how casually they talk about the local religious nutjob owning the county. The older deputy doesn’t even seem bothered by the thought; the idea of them buying everything just thrown out as blasé as one would say the time of day.

“I swear to god, I can’t figure out what I wanna do more; punch John Seed’s face or ride it.”

Dahlia raises an eyebrow at the older woman; she’s unsure what that means…but it sounds vaguely inappropriate… Her nose scrunches, brows furrowing as she tries to reason through this. Riding…like sitting on someone’s face? So, oh… Heat flares up Dahlia’s cheeks as the meaning hits her; definitely inappropriate. Very inappropriate. She covers the opossum’s ears, as if to protect the innocent being from the filth, meanwhile her own ears are burning.

“Addie…”

“I know, I know,” Adelaide waves her hand dismissively, “but you know what they say, the pussy wants what it wants.”

“Not sure that’s the saying.” Pratt laughs

Dahlia raises an eyebrow before looking down at the opossum in her arms as if the little critter could answer her unasked question. Instead, its doe eyes just stare up at her. What cats have to do with Adelaide wanting to fuck John Seed is beyond Dahlia’s comprehension.

“You alright over there, hun?”

“Don’t worry about her,” Pratt dismisses Adelaide’s concern, “she’s probably just wondering what cats have to do with anything.”

“Oh lord.”

“How did you know?” Dahlia whispers, wide-eyed at Pratt, only getting a throaty laugh in response.

“How old are you again, sweetie? Pussy, vagina, cunt; what’s between your legs. Well, maybe not yours, I ain’t got a chance to check y-”

“I would like to change the subject!” Dahlia blurts out; face feeling like it’s been set on fire and no doubt a vivid flush a red. Adelaide’s little grin and Pratt’s laughter only serving to make her face more crimson.

“Well…if we’re on the subject of faces I wanna ride, the Ryes are having their barbecue next Saturday, you and Hudson gonna make it out?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I’ll be seeing you then, Pratt, and hopefully you too, junior deputy. I gotta call my remodeling guys.”

They say goodbyes and wave off Adelaide, going back to the patrol car. Dahlia cuddling her new opossum friend as she goes. This is her baby now and will comfort her through humiliation at the hands of Hope County’s sex perverts.

“What are you doing?” Pratt asks, when Dahlia opens the car door.

“What do you mean?”

“Fuckin’, put the opossum down!”

“No.”

“You’re not bringing that thing into the car.”

“I’m not abandoning my child.”

“It’s literally a wild animal.”

“It’s a opossum, not a bear, calm your tits,” Dahlia tells him firmly, opening the door and plopping down with her critter in her lap. Pratt groans and jumps in the driver side.

“So, what, you’re gonna take it home and make it a pet?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“You know how some stations have like animals and stuff?”

“You mean K-9 units, trained dogs? You wanna train a fuckin’ opossum?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” she rolls her hand flippantly, “I’m not gonna train her, she’s perfect the way she is.”

“Have fun getting the sheriff on board with this, that thing could be rabid for all you know.”

“Opossums don’t carry rabies; like they physically can’t have rabies.”

“Okay, fuckin’, opossum expert.”

Dahlia spends a mile or two, just watching out the window at the world passing by as she scratches at her new friend’s ears. Passing by a sign for Rye and Son’s Aviation, she remembers the conversation with Adelaide.

“Who’re the Rye’s?” She turns her head towards Pratt, head cocking to the side in curiously.

“Huh? Oh, they’re a couple who live not too far from Falls End. They have these big barbecues that basically the entire county shows up to; everyone brings some food, it’s a whole thing.”

“That’s nice.”

“You should come.”

“I don’t know them.”

“It’s open invitation, you live in Hope County, cook some food, show up. It’ll be fun.”

“Just like the F.A.N.G Center?” She raises an eyebrow

“Well, if you don’t freak out and run off halfway through, yeah, things can be fun.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at Pratt.

Side eyes and double takes are taken at Dahlia as she walks into the station carrying a opossum. Dahlia just nuzzles her face against the top of the opossum’s head as they reach the office, plopping down in her chair and propping her feet up on her desk. Pratt walks past with his lunch and Dahlia grabs a handful of apple slice off his plate; making the older deputy stop and glare at her.

“Can I help you?”

“I gotta feed her.” Dahlia shrugs, letting the opossum munch on one of the slices of fruit.

“Feed her your lunch.”

“My lunch is an energy drink and a twinkie.” She ate the last of the lunches Caroline sent with her; an empty fridge and a sink full of Tupperware waiting for her at home.

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“The world’s too cruel to end my misery.”

“Jesus fuck,” he rolls his eyes, “calm it down, Hot Topic.”

“What are you doing, Rook?” Heat zings up Dahlia’s cheeks when she hears Hudson’s voice and sudden fear that being the weird opossum girl might not be what she wants.

“Is that a fuckin’ rat?” A guy next to her, dressed in the standard officer uniform asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Feeding...opossum…Who are you?”

“Rook, this is Brennan, he’s one of our officers, Brennan this is-”

“The rookie deputy, I know, I’m officer Beau Brennan, nice to meet ya,” he says, extending a hand and she moves the opossum to properly shake it. Beau Brennan, possibly the most southern sounding name she’s ever heard, especially this far up North.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“But, uh, Rook,” Hudson looks at Dahlia, “should you really be bringing a wild animal into the station?”

“Maybe not...she’s friendly, though.”

“So, Joey questions you and she has a point,” Pratt swings his hand in an angry gesture, “but I do it and I get mocked?”

“Yes.”

“Well, why don’t you tell Joey, how you want the opossum to be the station pet?”

“Do you?” Joey raises an eyebrow at Dahlia, the younger deputy’s face turning a deeper shade of scarlett.

“...yes..”

“If you want the thing so bad, why not just take it home as your own pet?”

“That’s what I was asking!” Pratt butts in.

“Five seconds ago, you were asking how the hell I kept myself alive, you want me in charge of keeping something else alive?”

“She’s got you there,” Hudson looks back to Dahlia, mirth lighting up those olive green eyes, “what's her name gonna be?”

Dahlia suddenly has no coherent thought in her head. Just cricket noises as she realizes she’s never actually named an animal in her life. Every time she’s ever had a pet or something close to one, she just refers to it by species or someone else names it. The cat’s name is cat, dog’s name is dog.

“....Opossum…?”

“Not how names work,” Hudson pets behind the opossum’s ear, “Petunia?”

“Petunia, it is,” Dahlia flusters to say grinning, she’s actually okay with this, Hudson doesn’t mind the weird opossum girl.

“Why are you encouraging her!?”

“‘Cause it’s annoying you.”

“I think the girls have you outnumbered, Staci.”

“Staci?” Dahlia looks over at Pratt, is that his first name? She’s never actually heard it before. His face completely falls, hazel eyes harsh and angry.

“Shut up.”

“Your name is Staci, oh my god.”

“Spelled with an ‘i’,” Beau adds, grinning as Dahlia starts cackling.

“Oh my god, you have a sorority girl name!”

“Laugh it up, you know when Whitehorse comes back, you’re gonna have to say goodbye to your new friend.”

“Eh, it’s Rook, so he won’t mind much,” Joey says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Huh?”

“You don’t know?” Brennan raises an eyebrow at her, “everyone knows that the sheriff is soft on you. Been hardly a week and it’s like he’s adopted you.”

Her cheeks hurt from grinning, Whitehorse sees her like his own child? She knows she’s lucky to even have gotten the job; let alone the way he’s been going the extra mile to make her feel at place here. But knowing he may see her like family lights up her heart. The sheriff already reminded her of Lloyd before, but hearing that cements the comparison.

“Dear god, if you were a dog, your tail would be wagging,” Pratt-Staci, grumbles as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It's cute,” Brennan defends her, “we don’t even need a canine unit with her around. Ow!”

Brennan jumps when Dahlia kicks him in the shin, hard enough to bruise she’s hoping. Hudson and Pratt laugh. Petunia is content and nuzzling into Dahlia’s neck as the four shoot the shit, the topic of the Rye barbecue coming up. Hudson and Brennan both plan on being there as well. Dahlia finds herself sinking deeper into her chair, holding Petunia closer. Taking her phone from her pocket and checking the notifications on John’s little video. Other than someone claiming he looks familiar and another person saying he’s hot; it’s mostly more taunts.

“What’s going on here?” Whitehorse’s voice cuts through the chatter, the sheriff coming through and spotting the gathered deputies and officer. His eyes landing on Petunia within a second, “Rook?”

“Yeah?” She scrolls past someone using a gif of John’s light up yes sign as a reaction gif.

“Why are you holding a opossum?”

“She likes being held.” She doesn’t bother looking up from the phone.

“She?”

“Her name’s Petunia.”

“You can’t have a opossum.”

“She’s the station opossum.”

“Rook,” Whitehorse sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “just go put her outside.”

“So, she’s an outside station pet?”

“I don’t care as long as she’s outside.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Dahlia says, finally looking up and grinning ear to ear. Whitehorse shakes his head and just waves her off before going into his office, no doubt looking for some Tylenol or Aspirin at this point.

“That’s it,” Pratt lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head at Dahlia.

“Told ya, soft on Rook.”

“I’m gonna take Petunia outside, to her new home.”

“Do you think she’ll stay around?” Hudson asks, as her and Pratt follow after Dahlia, towards the little lot of land behind the department.

“If I keep feeding her, she should, right?”

“I’m gonna have to start bringing two lunches, aren’t I?”

“Nah, you don’t wanna overfeed her.”

“Hilarious.”

The wind is blowing just a bit; breezing by and shifting the grass around them. The sun starting to set as the evening arrives. Petunia licks her cheek and then runs up on Dahlia’s shoulder, little hands grabbing at her skin as she clambers up onto her head; curling up like she belongs there.

“Pffft,” Hudson sputters out a laugh, “look this way, Rook.”

Dahlia faces Joey, grinning with the apples of her cheeks flushing red. The older deputy has her phone out and snaps a photo of Dahlia with Petunia perched on her head. She’s not sure why the moment is worth catching, but she’s glad it was.

“Send that to me, if you don’t mind…” Dahlia asks as she puts Petunia down in the grass.

“No problem,” she taps away and Dahlia feels her phone buzz, “and don’t worry I’ll send it to you, too, Pratt.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“Didn’t have to.”

Dahlia sits down on the ground, petting Petunia as the sun sets. As always Hudson and Pratt leave that evening for the Spread Eagle, she catches Brennan talking about going to the Hollyhock Saloon with some fellow officers before she leaves. Everyone has their friend group, their routine. And it’s time for her own; going home to an empty trailer.

And an empty fridge, she remembers. Oh god, she has to go shopping doesn’t she? It’s a break in the monotony but she’s not sure it’s a welcomed one. She also has to do dishes at some point…and laundry… Adulting sucks.

There’s a little family owned market in the Henbane River region; just a bit more to it than the general store in Falls End. The fluorescent lights irritate her eyes as she pulls off her helmet to look around. Never the cooking type; Dahlia’s hoard comprises of things that don’t require more than a microwave to prep. Frozen meals, snacks, and absolute garbage pile high in her cart as she scours the shelves for more. This might get her through for a week.

Her phone buzzes, another Twitter notification, she’s sure someone else reacting to the Eden’s Gate commercial. She tugs her phone from her pocket; just like she thought a Twitter notification, but the message beneath it catches her eye. A text from Hudson, where she sent the photo of Dahlia and Petunia. The young deputy hasn’t gotten around to opening it; mind preoccupied. She opens the message.

Dahlia doesn’t take pictures of herself and has never been particularly enthralled with her own appearance. But, she likes this photo of her. Petunia is perched on her head, dark eyes warm and soft. The evening sun setting behind Dahlia illuminates her in golden light; dark hair mussed, brown eyes lighting up amber where the light hits, and a wide grin on her face.

Beneath the photo is a message from Hudson captioning it;

‘cant tell who looks better here’

Heat makes it way up to her hairline. Is…did Hudson call her cute? She’s comparing Dahlia to Petunia, a opossum, both Petunia specifically and opossums in general are cute. So if Hudson’s saying Dahlia’s looks are on par with a opossum; does Hudson mean she’s cute? But, not everyone thinks opossums are cute… Some people think they’re gross little trashy goblins, does Hudson think she looks like a trash goblin? She seemed to like Petunia, but just cause she was nice to the animal doesn’t mean she thinks opossums are cute. Dahlia leans her forehead against the freezer section for a moment; letting a turkey meal cool her flushed face as she forces herself to not agonize over this.

A few deep breathes and a concerned passerby make Dahlia straighten back up, getting her bearings before heading to self-check-out. She quickly rings up her items and bags them, leaving the market with her grocery bags in tow.

“Leave me alone…please…” A soft demure voice whispers, a woman about Dahlia’s age stands beside the road a man towering over her with a beet red face. The smell of liquor coming off him on the wind. His hand is wrapped tightly around her wrist, her skin indenting under his grasp as she tries to fold in on herself to avoid his touch.

“Wh-what, you scared daddy Joe’ll call you a sinner for spending some time with me?”

The stench of alcohol wafts off his breath with every drunken slur; even at a distance, the smell churns her stomach. She drops her bags on the cement and makes a beeline towards them, she needs to keep this from escalating, or someone will get hurt.

“Leave me alone!” The girl’s voice shakes as she tries to pry herself from the man’s grasp.

“Fuckin’ peggie whore!”

“Hey!” Dahlia yells out and runs as his other hand starts to raise and pull back.

She gets between them just in time to feel the crack of his hand striking her face. An ache and echo of pain rings through her jaw; a metallic taste where her cheek scraped the inside of her jaw. Glassy eyes widen, the man shocked at the interruption.

“Wh-who-”

“I’m a deputy with the Sheriff’s Department, and unless you want some jail time for assault, I recommend you get the fuck out of here.”

“Pssh,” he scoff, whiskey scented spittle spraying into the air, “li-”

“I’m giving you to the count of three to get out of my sight, sir. One,” she leans into his space, glaring him down and sneering as she counts, “two, th-“

“F-fine, fine, fuckin’ bitch.”

He makes a dismissive hand gesture as he grumbles a curse, but he stumbles away, leaving the two girls alone. Dahlia rubs absent mindedly at her cheek before turning towards the girl; a peggie, he called her. One of the followers of Eden’s Gate. She’s beautiful, five or so inches taller than Dahlia, with long black hair falling in waves down her shoulders. Delicate fine facial features, the deputy can’t help but feel the girl’s face might have shattered has it been struck. Like the handful of peggies she’s seen, traces of tattoos and markings are on her. ENVY etched across her chest and a delicate tattoo of vines with blue flowers curling up her forearm.

“Are you okay?” Dahlia asks her.

“Oh yes, yes, I’m fine, but are you?”

The girl reaches out, fingers nearly brushing over Dahlia’s cheek. She instinctively ducks back, avoiding the touch. Strangers touching her is never something she’s been fond of, though she can’t imagine many people are.

“I’ve taken worse from better; I’ll be fine. You be careful and have a safe night, ma’am.” Dahlia nods at her and makes the quick walk to her abandoned groceries and bike.

She stoops down and begins to collect the food that fell from her bags. A pair of slender hands join in, helping gather up a bag of microwave meals for her, the girl offering it to Dahlia once it’s secure.

“Thanks,” Dahlia murmurs, taking it from the stranger, stashing her groceries in the little storage space under her motorcycle’s seat.

“It’s the least I can do…I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here about a week ago.”

“Really, that’s incredible…The Lord placed you here at the exact right time.”

“Nah, I just needed groceries,” Dahlia shrugs, “well, hope you have a nice night.”

“Wait,” she knots a hand in the deputy’s shirt, “I’m Layla…”

“Nice to meet you,” Dahlia offers, Layla’s dark brown eyes are darting around, avoiding eye contact.

“I…was on my way to a sermon at Father Joseph’s church and-”

“Look, Layla, if you need my help just say the word. But, if this is the beginning of a conversion spiel; save your breath and my time, ‘cause it ain’t happening.”

“I don’t feel safe, going there alone, right now. What if he comes back?” Her arms cross over herself, the thin cardigan not doing much to protect her from the night chill.

“Oh, uh, you don’t have anyone who can go with you? Aren’t religions like, community things?”

“I was gonna walk there by myself, but…”

“Fuckin’ hell, where is it?”

“Up the north bridge, one of the island’s in the middle of the county, it isn’t far.”

“Here,” Dahlia shoves her helmet at Layla, “I got one helmet and if anyone’s brains are splattering on the road, I’d rather they be mine.”

Layla pulls the helmet on over her head, body still shivering. Dahlia shies and shrugs off her leather jacket; it’s only going to get colder on the ride there with wind whipping around. She hands it to Layla who smiles and takes it, pulling the worn black leather jacket on. Oversized on Dahlia and still marginally so on Layla.

“Thank you,” Layla murmurs as Dahlia straddles her bike, then climbs on the back. Dahlia takes in a deep breathe when arms wrap around her midsection, Layla pressing in close to the deputy’s back as she starts the engine. The familiar nature of the touch contrasting with the fact they’re strangers.

As Dahlia makes her way up to the bridge, Layla lifts the visor just a smidge so that she can whisper directions in the deputy’s ear. Once she’s past the bridge coming from the Henbane, the roads have fencing and barbwire, making it nearly impossible to go from the road into the woods on the island. She rides down the winding road, taking a left turn off the paved road onto a beaten path, rounding the corner she sees it.

A cold sweat builds on the back of her neck, heart dropping into her stomach. It’s a collection of small white buildings, dark roofs, with Latin scrawled across some of the buildings; Luxuria, Acedia, and more she’s sure. All of it on a large piece of land, within she can see picnic tables, bundles of white flowers, where they might gather for picnics or barbecues. She pulls her bike to a stop just a distance from the white gate; Church of Eden’s Gate etched in the upper arches.

People are all around, getting out of white trucks and cars, greeting each other with hugs and waves; throwing side eye glances at Dahlia when they notice her. Dogs are barking somewhere; she doesn’t know where from. Layla clambers off the back of Dahlia’s bicycle, pulling off her helmet and handing it back to her.

“Sister Layla,” a deep masculine voice rumbles out, a familiar man standing by the white gates. Tall with a thick dark beard, his deep dark eyes are focused on Dahlia as he speaks to Layla. Theodore is what the other man called him that day when Dahlia caught them stealing from The Spread Eagle. He looks a moment away from ripping the deputy’s head off her shoulders; his shirt dipping in a way that exposes the way PRIDE etches across his chest, crossed out as are all sins the church members wear.

“Brother Theodore, this is-”

“The new deputy, we’ve met, why is she here?”

“I was just getting ready to leave, don’t worry.”

“What,” Layla’s eyes widen and she grasps Dahlia’s arm, “you can’t.”

“I can’t…?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow and shoots a pointed look where Layla’s grabbing her, making the girl let go. Layla’s trying to rope her into this shit, isn’t she?

“You came all this way Deputy, why not just come in, listen to the sermon.”

“Not happening, I already told you, not my scene. Just give me back my jacket, so I can leave, okay?”

“But,” Layla chews her lip, gears in her head turning, “how am I suppose to get home?”

“I saw at least thirty people go in that church, I’m sure someone will be willing to give you a ride home.”

“Oh, uh, I-”

“Brother Theodore, Sister Layla, service will be starting soon!” Someone calls out from within the compound.

“I have to go, I’ll be right back, Deputy!” Layla rushes to say and then runs off towards the church, Dahlia’s jacket still on her shoulders.

“Hey, wait!” Dahlia jogs after Layla, hurrying through the little compound, but the woman vanishes into the steepled church ordained in cross symbols.

She stops, just before entering the door and takes a step back. The crush of boots in dirt echoes beside her before coming to a stop, the looming of someone nearby. Body heat lingering near her side as she looks up at the cross on the topmost steeple of the church.

“You going in?”

“No.”

“Have fun out here,” Theodore tells her, moving to press a heavy hand against the church door.

“Those dogs,” she starts, listening to the barks ringing out around her, “they friendly?”

“Why don’t you go find out?” He leaves her with a smirk, walking into that church.

Dahlia lets out a harsh breath and pushes her hand back through her hair. A breeze pushes through, her t-shirt and thin uniform shirt does nothing to keep out the chill. She’s not leaving without her jacket; her wallet and phone all in the pockets. Music echoes from inside the church as she plops down onto the ground outside it, balancing her helmet on her knees and resting her chin on it.

If your soul has grown weary, and your heart feels tired…

She fidgets with her helmet, chewing her lip. Please let this Joseph guy be short winded, she just wants to leave. The entire place sets her on edge, makes her skin crawl and she wants to hide away.

Let the water wash away your sins…

A cool breeze passes by, a soft whipping sound mingling with the singing. She scans the night sky, searching for her favorite and only known constellation, she has a feeling she’s going to be here a while…

#far cry 5 #fc5 #this is love #Dahlia Hale

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 4 years

Text

This is the most offensivly ignorant comment I’ve ever had the misfortunte of reading

Unsurprisingly it comes from the King of ‘What you just said is so aggressively idiotic I feel like you just insulted everyone’: RDMacQ.

For context you need to read this statement from someone else. Whilst I do not agree with this statement I’m not addressing it’s merits or demerits.

“Let me say that I don't like Evil Superman as a concept, but when written well, like Tom Taylor's Injustice comics, where the guy who wrote it clearly has love for the traditional version of Superman and tries to humanize him even at his worst so you can relate and feel for the guy, I accept it, I enjoy it. By that same token, I was always open to Peter/MJ not working out if it was done well, and not done as in the case of OMD/OMIT with the demonstrable intent of slandering MJ's character and making Peter young hip and open to dating younger girls without him coming off as a creep and sleazebag. I am not okay with it happening to preserving Peter's sainthood. I mean the reason I accepted Peter B. in ITSV is that it did that take on the direction the character went into very well. In the case of Life Story #3, you are meant to agree with MJ and she's shown as a moral force, someone who condemns Venom Peter when he is about to kill Kraven-in-Cloth Suit. And of course people need to keep in mind that in Life Story, Reed and Sue didn't work out either, Vision suffers more guilt than even Peter can fathom, Captain America made a bigger and more difficult choice and faces more consequences for his actions than Peter does. So I feel that whatever Zdarsky is doing he's playing fair in the way that other writers don't when they do the story this way. And also tonally, the story is set in the '80s, the age of Watchmen. I think in terms of decade-specific mood and trend, having a story where Spider-man becomes a deadbeat dad worried about not being in prime physical shape and so on...is quite apposite.”

Then we get to RDMacQ’s bullshit

“Yeah, I find it weird that the main complaint is "This isn't what happened in the original comics" and I'm like "Yeah.... kind of the point!"”

Here is the problem.

Life Story is intended and promoted as a WHAT IF.

The way a WHAT IF works is that it takes what DID happen and changes variables to explore how that’d impact the outcome.

With Variables A+B you get outcome 1 (the main universe).

But what if you had Variables C+D? You would get outcome 2.

Gwen Stacy died so Spider-Man tried (and ultimately refrained) from murdering the Green Goblin.

But what If Spider-Man saved Gwen Stacy? Then she’d accept him, he’d stop the Goblin, but the Goblin would expose his identity in the interim and thus ruin Peter’s life.

Kingpin’s assassin injured Aunt May so Peter beat him up.

But what If the Kingpin’s assassin didn’t injure Aunt May but simply outright killed Mary Jane? Then Peter would directly murder the Kingpin.

Life Story doesn’t play fair as a What if in the slightest.

A what if done properly is confined by the parameters of the original story. Everyone still needs to act in character within the context of the new situation as defined by the older stories.

That isn’t he case in Life Story

To begin with it isn’t changing just one variable it’s changing multiple. Spider-Man is aging in real time. The events of his life are happening in roughly the same time period they would’ve been published, but not in the same order. The level of realism is drastically higher since Marvel heroes are going to the Vietnam War.

Characters act arbitrarily differently in ways they wouldn’t do in the context of the new variables. Case in point, why exactly would Norman Osborn pull the scheme he di in issue #2 just because he’s in prison? His plan never made sense. And in issue #4 his plan was even more asinine. He wanted to destroy Spider-Man and due to being too old to do it himself he pulled the Clone Saga and got Doc Ock to attack Spidey on his behalf. But he knew who Peter was, why not just reveal the truth. Doing so couldn’t harm him as he’d already paid for his crimes as the Goblin and his identity was public knowledge.

That doesn’t make sense. That’s not an opinion that’s just self-evident by the story. The cause and effect of it doesn’t add up.

But RDMacQ doesn’t believe in that. According to him Norman’s actions are justified because ‘ a crazy person did something that didn’t make sense’. That’s the laziest most pathetic attempt at analysis. And yet this cum bubble of a human being has the audiactity to claim I don’t analyse.

To him authorial intent is everything unless he doesn’t like it.

Because the point is that it’s supposed to be different from canon that means that characters can act in ANY way that’s different. ANY thing that is different is a viable option. Which obviously defeats the entire object of the project. If you are going to do that what is the point of rooting it in 616 canon in the first place? Why rely upon familiarity with the canon universe if you are going to randomly change anything on a whim as opposed to in logical response to a changed variable?

In doing that all you have accomplished is a weird and unfocussed Ultimate Universe, not a What if.

But then ol’ Big Mac starts to step up the game.

“I think probably my issue arises due to certain recent fan outrages, and a lot of the rationalizations and justifications that came from them. The latest episode of Game of Thrones, for example, had a lot of people- and I mean a LOT of people- decrying a character's "Heel" turn and their "Out of character" moments- while at the same time showing a bit of a misreading of the material or the subject matter.”

Bear in mind when he wrote this the latest episode of HBO’s Game of Thrones was the penultimate episode of it’s eighth and final season. In it, key protagonist, Daenerys slaughtered a whole city full of civilians with a fire breathing dragon and her army. Throughout the show she’d previously been defined as being unwilling to kill innocents on principle, once claiming that each enslaved person in a city was a reason to conquer the city and liberate it’s people. She was so horrified that one of her dragons inadvertently killed a child that she locked them up. She once affirmed that she did not want to be ‘Queen of the Ashes’ amidst her campaign to retake her homeland.

It’s fair to say the overwhelming majority of viewers AND professional critics took major issue with this and declared it a travesty and out of character.

Behind-the-scenes stories also heavily point to Emilia Clarke (the actress portraying the character) being upset and disenchanted with her character’s direction.

youtube

For my money these two videos are the best examinations of the disaster that was Daenerys heel turn in this episode of Game of Thrones.*

youtube

Also please bear in mind the ‘man’ saying people are misreading things is the same man who has continually insisted that Norman Osborn merely wants to kill Spider-Man in spite of me citing examples to the contrary, including this page.

So you know, not exactly demonstrating great analytical skills there.

“I think it's far too easy to cry "Out of character" when a character does something different, or simply questionable, because it's an easy catch all phrase that sounds like you know something, but in reality it's just a cover for a lack of understanding of things like characterization or plot development.”

Says the ‘man’ who genuinely once said Norman Osborn doing something nonsensical is justified because ‘he’s crazy’.

Says the ‘man’ who leaned incredibly hard on the idea that Miles Warren in Life Story would not have intervened in Gwen’s marriage to Peter Parker even though his entire character revolves around his jealous obsession over her.

Says the guy who once said a writer can randomly decide all of Mary Jane’s character development since the 1980s didn’t matter.

Says the ‘man’ who once claimed Doc Ock at the end of Gage’s Superior run was he real Doc Ock even though he was literally a clone of his mind in a clone of his body…and then he refused to listen to me when I repeatedly spelled that fact out for him. His rationale was ‘Marvel are treating him as the real guy so he is’.

Says the ‘man’ that in his ‘interpretation’ Spider-Man regarded Ned Leeds as a ‘viper’ after he was revealed as the Hobgoblin, in spite of literally no evidence supporting that interpretation and you know Spider-Man literally saying otherwise multiple times; including in the issue he learned Ned was a villain. In fact when I pointed this out to ol’ big Mac he referred to such things as ‘arbitrary’.

Says the guy who once said it’s better for stories to be in multi-parters because before the rise of decompression al stories had rushed endings. Remember how Amazing Fantasy #15, The Kid Who Collects Spider-Man, Sensational Annual 2007, The Conversation and When Commeth the Commuter all had ‘rushed’ endings?

Says the poor excuse for a ‘man’ who once claimed there was nothing wrong with the JMS run having magic but who also lambasted Peter David’s Spider-Man work for involving magic and time travel, even though JMS wrote ASM #500 which is literally about magic time travel.

What I am trying to say is this ‘man’ has systemically demonstrated immense hypocrisy and stupidity but a staggering deficiency when it comes to literary analytical skills.

“The movie reviewer Bob Chipman mentioned this in one of his videos where he talked about the problems that a lot of "Modern" viewers have is that they believe because they watch a lot of movies in a year, that somehow makes them film buffs or gives them insight into the storytelling process, when in reality what they are doing is watching all the Marvel movies or all the big releases, and assuming that gives them the same sort of insight that people who go to school to learn this sort of thing do. And I kind of think that's also true of comics as well.”

Oh boy, is there a lot to unpack here.

Keeper of the Gate

For starters let’s call this out for what it is. As much as he might be softening the statement by saying ‘kind of’, what he is actually doing right here is GATEKEEPING.**

He is saying unless you have ‘gone to school to learn this sort of thing’ you don’t COUNT as a critic.***

Okay let’s dive into that one.

Schooling ain’t everything

Gone to school to do what exactly? How to make movies? That’s what film school is for right? So you can learn how to write, produce, direct, etc movies. Correct me if I am wrong but film school does not teach you how to CRITIQUE movies.

So by this logic going to film school wouldn’t qualify you to critique a movie, just how to make them. Except no one argues that. Bob Chipman himself studied film at school and it is from that point of view that his analyses come from.

So by RDMacQ’s own logic Bob himself isn’t qualified for his own job, let alone RD himself. At which point why does Bob’s words carry any weight at all?

But wait, we can go yet deeper.

What if we aren’t talking about film school specifically? What if someone just studied film as their major in college but not strictly film school? Is that good enough to be a film critic or not? If it is are you a lower echelon of film critic?

What if you minored in film/media studies instead of majored in it? Are you yet lower on the totem pole?

What if you went to film school but dropped out?

What if you studied from home and didn’t actually GO to the school itself?

What if you studied it at A school but pre-college?

What if you studied it privately outside of an educational institution? In other words a self-taught film student?

Shit, what about the first ever film critics or the first ever film makers who pioneered techniques and the art form? If they were going through the trial and error of formulating the art form and medium there obviously couldn’t have BEEN film schools back then?

Do they not count?

Not to mention the cultural implications of this. If you are an American who attended a French film school are you unqualified to critique American films and only French ones, even if you grew up predominantly with American cinema?

Let’s change things up a little and look to TV in Britain. One of the most acclaimed British TV writers of all time was a man named John Sullivan. Sullivan created multiple beloved and acclaimed sitcoms, the most famous of which is called Only Fools and Horses. So successful was this show that it was the most viewed TV show in Britain in both the 90s and the 2000s. The latte in particular is an achievement since the show existed purely as reruns in the 2000s sans literally 3 episodes.

The show had a total of 64 episodes and ran between 1981-2003. Do you know how many of those 64 episodes Sullivan wrote?

ALL of them.

And do you know how many of them have predominantly negative reviews? Arguably just four.

Not only has the show been positively received it’s been regarded as the singular greatest British comedy of all time, a title it still holds to this day.

Amidst the praise that the show has received is it’s great characterization, it’s emotional moments and in particular it’s utter command of narrative structure. Not only do the jokes land they land with grace and make the feat seem easy when it’s all over. The cherry on his record was his OBE, an official government recognition of his positive contributions to the arts.

So you know, this guy clearly knew how to tell a good story. He did like 60 times in a row single handily.

So when and where did he study film? The answer is, he didn’t.

He never studied film. His formal education stopped at age 15 when he dropped out of school with no qualifications. Even if he had completed his secondary high school education he’d have not studied film. Film was not on the British curriculum at the time and to my knowledge still isn’t. At best you can study ‘media studies’ starting at age 16-18 before you go on to university. But up until age 16 it’s just not an available option.

He did go to evening classes for English and read teach yourself books but that was it.

By Big Mac’s standards this writer who’s been recognized by the government themselves wasn’t qualified to write anything, let alone critique it.

Additionally let’s consider one teeny weeny little fact. If you’ve lived through the formal education system in pretty much any Western country you have almost certainly been educated on how to gain an insight into the storytelling process. Because that’s a big part of what fucking ENGLISH class is for!****

MovieBob

I’d say I’m shocked and appalled at RD’s audacity and lack of self-awareness in citing MovieBob Chipman. But I’m not. It actually makes far too much sense.

MovieBob is a broken clock that’s often not even right twice a day. His credibility as a critic and as a human being is also woefully lacking.

For starters RD is a big Spider-Marriage proponent (though he’s recently turned traitor and says he doesn’t really mid if it doesn’t come back). To his credit he has often called out and deconstructed unfair and disingenuous arguments against the Spider-Marriage.

Bob however is staunchly on the other side of that debate.

He’s even said the marriage was never good, came from an illegitimate place, that Spider-Mans imply should never be married and in fact argued that a late Slott era Spider-Man and MJ were more interesting than they were before.

Thus I find RD’s citing of Bob to back up his claims about who is ‘qualified’ to be a critic the height of irony.

But you know, that doesn’t necessarily hurt RD’s argument. Hell, Bob un-ironically believing in eugenics or intelligence testing for voters doesn’t necessarily hurt RD’s argument.

Nor does MovieBob’s weird, weird views on how society apparently punishes the Big Brains like himself of course. Although it’s so telling that an arrogant prick like RD would invoke the words of a ‘brother-in-arms’ like Bob.

No, what hurts RD’s argument is where Bob was probably coming from with his initial statement.

See I heavily suspect that RD’s claims about Bob are kind of stem from his interpretations of this video Bob made called ‘BIG PICTURE: PLOTHOLE SURFERS’. Noticeably that video cites this video by another Youtube film critic named Patrick Willems. Called ‘SHUT UP ABOUT PLOT HOLES’.

The sentiments of both videos explicitly or implicitly echo Big MacQuack’s. Everyone is wrong in how they are critiquing movies except them and people like them because they are ‘professionals’ because they went to school.

None of these arguments hold up to scrutiny both due to stuff I have mentioned above but also for various other reasons I’m not going to bother unpacking here. If you want a detailed look at why Chipman and Willems (and by extension RD) are full of shit there are several Youtube videos dissecting their points, particularly Willems’.

However, I’ve found the most detailed to be this video.

youtube

There is also this video where they more directly address Bob’s video.

Fair warning they are long and get less than PC, and yet they do address why the videos don’t hold up to scrutiny.

Self-taught critic

Here is a crazy thought, if you’ve watched all the Marvel movies and big releases every year, why SHOULDN’T that give you a potential insight when critiquing OTHER Marvel movies or big releases? Those things are competing against one another, they are broadly going for the same audience. If you familiarise yourself with them then it is not beyond impossibility that you could mentally play spot the difference in the storytelling and critically evaluate them. It’s almost like in consuming that media you have formulated a CRITERIA which you are then CRITICALLY judging similar such media against.

Hypocrisy

The best part about RD’s statements? He himself has never gone to film school. Nor has he gone to a school specifically teaching him how to analyse comic books nor write them.

By his own logic he has disqualified himself from partaking in critiquing any story, as he did with Life Story or Game of Thrones earlier on.

But the best part?

If you check out the thread this is from and observe the poster called Chase the Blues Away they often disagree. CTBA points out holes in RD’s arguments and subtly questions his reading comprehension. Entirely separately they also implied they felt GoT’s writing was illogical towards the end of season 8 as well.

Why is CTBA relevant.

Because they actually HAVE gone to film school!

Furthermore, on both Life Story and most other matters related to Spider-Man CTBA and myself have been on the same page, whether this entails agreeing with one another’s statements or by coincidence having similar positions.

Now me?

I NEVER went to film school nor did I study English literature formally beyond age 18. Oh, I’ve read bits and bobs about writing (my favourite being Russell T Davies’ book ‘A Writer’s Tale’). But I have no college level formal education on the craft of writing. My analytical skills were cultivated from my school experiences and a whole load of osmosis and practice.

I have also found myself often on the same page as another person who at least studied English at a college level. They are another poster on the same forum called MacGoblin, perhaps better known as the creator of the (now defunct) SpideyKicksButt website. For many people the site was THE best source of Spider-Man analysis on the web for over a decade.

MadGoblin still participates regularly on a podcast covering new Spider-Man issues and whether or not I agree with all his assessments the manner in which he analyses (with an eye upon continuity) is similar to myself and indeed all the other panellists on the podcast.

One of the former panellists on the podcast (who I have also been on the same page with more often than not) was called Donomark and he too studied English at a college level.

So that’s three people who meet RD’s arbitrary rules for who is a ‘real’ critic. And yet I (someone who doesn’t meet RD’s criteria) have come to mostly the exact same conclusions as they have through entirely independent analysis.

As have other people I know who didn’t study film or English Lit in college.

So, either I’m just an absolute prodigy, or RDMacQ, Willems and MovieBob’s criteria for who can and can’t grasp plot and characters is full of shit.

“A lot of the complaints I've seen is that Peter wouldn't or didn't do this in the original comics. But arguing "Peter wouldn't do this because in ASM #225, on page 11..." isn't pointing out the flaw in the story.”

As always RD is devoid of nuance or appreciating the complexities of things.

If in Life Story or any Spider-Man story in canon Peter acts in a way at odds with his established characterization which is DEFINED by ASM #225 then absolutely that’s pointing out a flaw in a story.

Case in point, here is this poorly drawn satire of Superior Spider-Man RDMacQ himself made:

Most of the gags at the expense of Superior Spider-Man in this page was made through the lens of knowing the characters’ past, of knowing what they did and how they acted in older stories.

The confusion over Crazy Town Banana Pants derives from Superior claiming Peter routinely said this when he in fact never did.

Carlie’s suspicions over Superior’s behaviour stems from he fact that the older stories have established how Peter acts and established that Carlie knows how he acts. Therefore Carlie not realizing the truth when she’s been told is illogical. That’s the gag from someone who’s stamped his foot on the ground and angrily refuted that human beings are capable of being logical.

The same is true of this next page too.

Captain America refers to ‘usual’ people involved with the Avengers (super scientists, etc.). Usual means there is a precedent and a precedent can only be defined via a pattern. A pattern of what? A pattern of older stories!

The second panel is bringing up the OLDER STORY ‘Ends of the Earth’ to prove the hypocrisy of Doc Ock

The final panel references SEVERAL past events. The Clone Saga. The Alien Costume Saga. Every time the Chameleon or another shape shifter has impersonated him. Kraven’s Last Hunt.

It’s also referencing the fact that MJ would KNOW about them and even goes really specific by referencing the events of a few pages of one specific issue of Kraven’s Last Hunt. Not the gist of the story, not the climax or the most famous moments. This one scene in the middle of everything else.

RD is using that very specific moment to draw a comparison between it and the events of Superior in order to point out how MJ is not acting consistently.

Almost like she’s, I dunno, OUT OF CHARACTER or something?

Oh, and or the record declaring Peter would or wouldn’t act this way because of ASm #225 p11 is bullshit because Peter isn’t even on that page.

“That's just spouting comic book trivia, which isn't the same thing.”

But referencing events in the middle of KLH which are hardly iconic and immediately memorable and pointing out how MJ didn’t act consistently with them in Superior Spider-Man?

Oh no, that’s NOT ‘spouting comic book trivia’.

Can you see the hypocrisy of this creature now?

Can you see how BROKEN it is to argue a character being established as acting a certain way by an older story DOESN’T mean it matters thereafter?

And he says I am bad at analysis, Jesus Christ.

“Knowledge of trivia isn't the same as understanding plot structure, foreshadowing, character development, or knowing or accepting that just because something happens in issue 1 doesn't mean it will stay that way throughout the entire book.”

First of all the sheer audacity of someone with such non-existent analytical skills to DARE fucking throw shade like this is astounding. That’s like Michael Bay trying to explain how you make a movie with substance.

Second of all he’s right and wrong here.

Knowing the history of the characters is not the same as knowing those things.

But that doesn’t render it trivia because it’s the fucking histories of the characters that define who they goddam are!

Everyone agrees Spider-Man would not have acted the way he did in One More Day right? And that MJ wouldn’t have acted the way she did in OMIT right?

Why? Why do people feel the characters would not behave that way?

Because they read older stories that depicted them acting in certain ways in certain situations that were then contradicted by OMD and OMIT.

You know like MJ not realising Superior Spidey wasn’t really Peter even though the situation was incredibly similar to Kraven’s Last Hunt and both entailed imposters pretending to be Spider-Man.

No, knowing the history isn’t the same as knowing all that other stuff.

But it is undeniably an integral PART of being able to analyse something because if the prior events don’t matter, if they are merely trivia (or worse trivia when he wants it to be but not when he doesn’t) then NOTHING matters.

Why the fuck should issue #1 matter when reading issue #2? Or issue #3 when reading issue #5?

What does it matter if chapter 1 established our protagonist as an adult black man with a wife but by chapter 10, with no explanation they are a teenaged white woman claiming they’ve never been married?

Hey, chapter 1 is just trivia right. Why should that matter?

By the way, go ask Harry Potter fans if those little details are irrelevant and see how that goes.

He’s also (unsurprisingly) disgustingly disingenuous in his final point. Yes, things between issue #1 and issue #25 will change. But there is a world of difference between something changing via development vs. lazy contradictive writing.

Case in point, in ASM #1 Peter Parker doesn’t have a job, is a pariah at school and runs away crying from a failed adventure. In issue #25 he has a freelance job, isn’t running away crying and 2 ladies are interested in him.

WHAT? Isn’t this a contradiction? Doesn’t accepting this change mean you accept that issue #1 was mere trivia?

No, because between issue #1 and #25 we saw how and when Peter got a job, those two ladies became interested in him and we saw his skills, experience and confidence grow. The end result is that issue #25 was different to issue #1 because we’d been on a JOURNEY to get us there.

In contrast in ASM #700 Doc Ock is seemingly turned into a good guy because all of Spider-Man’s memories were beamed into his head, teaching him Uncle Ben’s famous mantra. But in Superior Spider-Man #1 he’s randomly reverted to what he was doing back in ASM #698.

So that stuff was just trivia? But that stuff was the resolution of ASM #700 and therefore the set up for Superior #1. The latter couldn’t exist without the former and yet it doesn’t make sense.

And you see that? You see how that cause and effect problem exists? Yeah, that’s PART of critiquing plot structure and foreshadowing. It’s ALMOST like the older stories aren’t merely trivia but actually very important and play a factor in the other forms of analysis RD listed off.

Not to mention, the idiocy of saying knowing the trivia doesn’t mean you understand foreshadowing. Motherfucker, the entire concept of foreshadowing is that you establish details in the present because you want to hint at readers about where the story is going to go later. It practically HINGES upon readers remembering that ‘trivia’.

If ASM #225 p11 had Spider-Man pass by a black cat and say ‘Boy that reminds me of Felicia Hardy.’ THAT would be foreshadowing for the next issue, but you couldn’t appreciate that UNLESS you remembered what happened in ASM #225 p11.

And the imbecility of bringing this shit up whilst referencing Game of Thrones too? As if Daenerys heel turn was actually foreshadowed and not just created from splicing old voice overs together in the previously segment of the show.

The next bit is in reference to Life Story again by the way.

“I mean, one of the best bits of subtle foreshadowing here is what happens with Peter and Reed's relationship. In issue 2, Peter reflects on how Reed pushed Sue away with his actions, and how he doesn't want to end up like that. But come issue 3, Peter ends up doing just that, despite his best efforts to the contrary and knowing what happened to Reed beforehand. That shows smart plot structure, which doesn't come out and yell at you "THIS IS IMPORTANT!" or hold your hand in any way. That shows that this story is pretty smart with the narrative choices that are being made.”

No it doesn’t.

Because the way in which Peter pushed MJ away contradicted his character and made no fucking sense. He had a mid-life crisis in spite of being well under 40 years old.

Also, you can have, by skill or by fluke, a dash of GOOD writing amidst your shitty writing.

A LOT of people would argue the podrace or Duel of the Fates fight in Phantom Menace were legitimately good sequences in an otherwise bad movie.

People broadbrush 90s Marvel as wall to wall trash but equally everyone praises Spider-Man 2099, Joe Kelly’s Deadpool run, Ron Marz’s Green Lantern run, etc.

Goddammit, 99% of all Doctor Who is fans celebrating the bits that were great amidst the bits that were bad. There are no end of Dr. Who stories were fans will praise the set design or costumes whilst shitting on the over all writing.

Shockingly a piece of media can have good AND bad elements!

Whenever someone says a story is good or bad they are almost always speaking OVERALL. A New Hope is OVERALL good. It’s not claiming there aren’t flaws to it.

Dan Slott’s Spider-Man run was OVERALL bad. Even I have said there are good elements to it.

But the mere existence of good elements doesn’t prove that something is overall one thing or another.

In Life Story’s case, let’s pretend RD is right. Then Zdarsky executed a good bit of foreshadowing.

Key word there: ‘bit’.

It doesn’t PROVE the over all story is smart with its narrative choices.

That’s such an utterly childish manner of analysis. ‘Well this bit is good that means everything else has to be good’.

Like how the fuck does doing a good bit of foreshadowing prove that Life Story wasn’t mischaracterizing anyone or knew how to tell a good alternate history story?

Shit, DAN SLOTT had foreshadowing, sometimes it was even competently executed. Didn’t mean it wasn’t happening within the context of mischaracterization.

Trust Bobby Mac to have no grasp of nuance.

“But rather than acknowledging that, instead we get stuff like being concerned with that because Gwen finds out Peter's secret identity at the end of issue 1, that therefore means that Peter is going to be hooking up with Gwen throughout the rest of the story, that this is going to be one big Peter/ Gwen book, that Chip Zdarsky is somehow a Gwen shipper because he wanted to just have her as a best friend in Spectacular, that MJ only having two lines in the first issue means her importance will be diminished overall, and that the whole series is going to try and be a rewrite to push that ship.”

None of the allegedly great foreshadowing RD spoke of above was in issue #1

Even if it was nobody could possibly have talked about that as a point of praise because the nature of foreshadowing is we wouldn’t have realised it was goddam foreshadowing until we finally GOT to the bit it was setting up in later issues

RD has been one of the most involved people in discussions about the Spider-Marriage, frequently clashing with a fell named Mister Mets on CBR and on the linked message board. He knows that Marvel from OMD onwards used to spite fans over OMD and the Spider-Marriage and that circa 2019 when Life Story was being released the latest of such instances had occurred maybe just 1 year earlier in Slott’s Red Goblin storyline. He also knows Zdarsky pissed in the well of the Spider-Marriage fans with his FCBD 2017 Spidey story which involved Mary Jane. So for a heavily burned and abused fanbase to suddenly be concerned that Zdarksy would be pushing an agenda was a totally natural and justified reaction to have at the time even if it was proven incorrect in the long run.

RD is being a shithead again. ‘Ugh, look at these overwrought FaNz. wHy CaNt dey celebrate the GUD stuff and not focus on the WRONG stuff’.The wrong stuff being Zdarsky shitting on the Spider-Man marriage, which he clearly did by breaking up Peter and Mj in the 80s when they didn’t break up then but he needed to ship Peter with Jessica Jones I guess

“Yet here we, two issues later, and Gwen is dead, Peter married MJ and now they have kids.”

And in LF #3 their marriage was in a toxic place and they split up. In issue #4 they get back together but only by Peter giving up being Spider-Man. Almost like the story was saying having a family and being Spidey are incompatible or something.

Shit issue #3 BEGINS with MJ griping about Peter.

“All the reactionary nonsense turned out to be for naught, since the story was going in a different direction, and just because Gwen was prominent early on didn't mean MJ wasn't going to play an important role later.”

It wasn’t reactionary nonsense it was entirely justified reactionary concern. People weren’t concerned that MJ wouldn’t be important but that Zdarsky would be pushing a pro-Gwen/anti-Mj agenda which he at least debatably did and certainly seemed to be doing in the first 3 issues.

“And yet we still continue to see that reactionary nonsense continue with decrying because Peter and MJ leave off on a bad note here, it therefore means the rest of the series will be an unending slide into misery.”

Which was proven partially true.

Issue #4 Harry dies, Peter quits like a coward.

Issue #5 Peter’s child is crippled, his identity is outted, ben Reilly dies and he becomes a fugitive as a super human civil war breaks out.

Issue #6 the world has turned to shit because of that civil war and the only way to fix it is for Spider-Man to die.

But again, he’s missing the point like the fool that he is.

People were concerned and upset BECAUSE the series split Peter and MJ up in the first place. Both because that defied the mission statement of the series but also because they know Peter and MJ WOULDN’T split up and the circumstances engineering it were fucking contrived shit.

“Which then unfortunately leads into bashing the creator himself, which I find incredibly unreasonable given the tremendous job Zdarsky is doing.”

He didn’t do a tremendous job.

Chase the Blues Away, the film school student, had been saying so and continued to say so after RD made this comment. So I guess by his own metric he was full of shit.

This is one of RD’s fundamental and fatal flaws. He’s a hypocrite. Everything is subjective unless it’s the shit HE likes or hates. Then it’s objectively good or bad.

Not to mention no one had been bashing the creator personally. He can’t grasp this either. He doesn’t grasp the distinction between bashing the work of a writer vs. bashing the writer personally.

E.g. he falsely claims I’ve sworn at him. I have sworn at him…here. On my own blog here I don’t feel the need to play nice.

On a public forum? Never. I’ve sworn in the course of conversations with him. I’ve sworn in regards to his argument but never sworn to attack him personally.

“Decrying Zdarsky as some form of hack because halfway through a six part story he's had the protagonist go through a rough time and that he is just putting out "Fan fiction," or- as I saw someone else argue- that the reason Zdarsky did this was because he himself went through marital troubles at one time in his life is just silly.”

It’s really not. He admitted that he wrote MJ in FCBD 2017 as his ex wife.

Fanfiction is exactly what LF was. Peter hooks up with Jessica Jones because…no given reason. It’d make infinitely more sense for that to have been Felicia but it was Jessica Jones. Zdarsky invents his own personal new spin on the Goblin who’s wearing kewl black because why not. He has characters randomly act in any way he wants for the story to happen regardless of how little sense it makes. That’s bad fanfiction 101. He has logic holes you can drive a truck through. FFS Russia launched nukes on America in issue #3 and this DIDN”T result in all out nuclear Armageddon. That’s amateuris

“Just like it's silly to say that D&B from GoT are purposefully destroying the show because they hate it and they hate women and they just want to move onto Star Wars,”

This is at worst a strawman.

At best an utterly myopic oversimplification.

The MAJORITY of people crying out against GoT season 8 weren’t claiming D&B were engaging in deliberate sabotage but rather they were ruining the series via their incompetence and RUSHING to get to the end.

Additionally the idea that they are misogynists is REALLY not a ‘silly’ argument. MANY people throughout the show’s history have made that argument, long before the popular opinion was that the show was bad,

A season 4 subplot that was heavily embellished (to the point of being called practically original) from the books entailed rogue Night’s Watchmen raping a household of women beyond the Wall. The most infamous line from the subplot was ‘Fuck them all to death.’

In that same season Jamie Lannister makes sexual advances on his sister Cersei even though she was saying no.

Sansa Stark, in a scene not in the books, was raped by Ramsey Bolton with the focus being upon Theon Greyjoy’s horror at the situation.

And of course there is ever so slightly a dash of gratuitous nudity involving women in the show.

Look, I’m not even saying for sure that D&B hate women or that that was at the root of how they fucked up Daenerys’ character in season 8.

But it’s idiotic to just dismiss the idea as wholesale silly as Smac a Mac is doing above.

“when in reality D&B were the reason the show got made in the first place and all those great female characters were brought to television for a wider audience to experience.”

Hollywood had been wanting to adapt George R. R. Martin’s books for years before he let D&B do it

Their first pilot was so bad they had to reshoot it.

They weren’t the reason we got those great female characters. Martin’s writing was why we got those characters and those good stories and why anyone wanted to make his books into a live action property at all.

Again, RD FAILING at nuance. A female character can have good writing AND bad writing. They can be good over all but drop the ball in certain moments. They can be great for 7 seasons but then fumble disastrously at the finish line. An opinion shared by all those critics that went to film school

Writers can be capable of doing good female characters even if they are misogynists. Writers who are not misogynists are capable of still being sexist at times. Friggin Stan Lee had sexist female characters in spite of also inventing Mary Jane who is lauded as a great female character even in the 1960s. Again, nuance. Mac Attac ain’t good at it.

“We can dislike or criticize a work without having to demonize the creators,”

It’s not demonizing D&B or Zdarsky to call them incompetent writers.

“and I think it's just become far too easy nowadays for people to rationalize their statements by making the creators themselves into remorseless villains, since that justifies them acting however they please in response.”

And it’s become far too difficult for me to stomach any more of this piece of shit.

*For what it is worth, these events are also listed on TV Tropes under the Face Heel Turn page:

Daenerys herself falls victim to this in the final seasons. Her actions in Essos had the purest of intentions: fighting against the Dothraki's misogyny and ending slavery in western Essos. Even her morally questionable acts still had these goals in mind. But when she set her sights on conquering Westeros, which is more or less a standard medieval European setting, her only goal was conquest. Even her claim that the Iron Throne is her birthright falls short since her father was killed due to his madness and love of burning things. Dany really doesn't help her case by burning alive any captive soldiers who don't side with her. This culminates with her slaughtering most of King's Landing's civilian population in the penultimate episode. Had the show started with the sixth season, there'd be no question that she is Daddy's Little Villain, her tragic backstory and past heroic deeds being a footnote at best.

**This is especially ironic as he’s accused me of doing the same.

Me, I’ve called people out or corrected them when they have gotten facts wrong. I’ve even said they don’t know what they are talking about. The difference is I’m not doing it just on principal as he is here.

I’ve never said someone doesn’t belong in the fandom or is not a real fan. Yet here RDMacQ is outright disqualifying people from having the legitimacy to critique comic books unless they’ve gone through what he deems the ‘appropriate steps’.

If I have told someone they are wrong or don’t know what they are talking about or don’t understand the material I have corroborative EVIDENCE to back it up. Their own statements prove that point.

E.g. RDMacQ doesn’t understand Norman Osborn’s character. Why? Because his statements contradicts the clear cut TEXT (not the subtext) of the source material. See? The source material is the EVIDENCE that supports my accusation. But RDMacQ doesn’t believe in analysis that way and has told me so himself.

***This laughable in he modern day and age where film criticism is so transparently ideologically driven as opposed to sincerely critiquing the merits of a film.

Hence why Bob Chipman and most other professional critics laud works like the Last Jedi which a fifth grader can see has little internal consistency.

#RDMacQ #Catharsis #Spider-Man #Game of Thrones #Dan Slott #Mary Jane Watson #Superior Spider-Man #MovieBob #Bob Chipman #daenerys targeryan

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maddiviner · 5 years

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Esoteric Empathy Rant

Probably a lot of you have seen @edhellenarn‘s post about esoteric empathy and the necessity of empaths staying in their own lane, so to speak.

I wanted to just make a separate post to add a bit of my own thoughts. Suffice to say, I agree with most of what the OP is saying, but there is more that can be said, as well, concerning the modern “empath” identity trend as it has developed over the years.

The main problem I have with a lot of folks who self-identify as empaths is, well... they seem to lack empathy, and will often minimize other people’s trauma and/or attempt to invalidate the perspectives and experiences of others.

By “lack empathy,” I mean that they usually are very preoccupied by the alleged “suffering” their “gift” causes them, unwilling to listen to possible solutions, and generally turn things into a pity Olympics, especially on social media sites like Facebook.

I had one lady in a group go on at length about how her empathy was so strong that she couldn’t leave her house, even to take out the garbage, because the pain others caused her was so great, despite all the crystals she’d gotten to help her ground herself.

When I suggested maybe she should consider cognitive behavioral therapy in lieu (or in addition) to the crystals and try to get herself to a better place, she made a separate post implying that I was an “inauthentic” person and a “psychic vampire” trying to feed off of her by having the gall to suggest she might need someone to talk to like that.

It’s weird because I wasn’t sealioning or anything - I genuinely thought my comments might be helpful. I mean, I have certain empathic abilities myself and CBT really helped me cut through a lot of stuff in order to hone them and become a better friend to those I care about.

Oh yes, “psychic vampires,” the favorite topic of the empath world. That and “narcissists,” even though most of these people know fuck-all about psychology or what NPD even is.

I was in one group on Facebook for a while, just for empaths, and almost every single post was someone going on about all the evil narcissists in their life.

Oh, their spouse is a narcissist! And it turns out their boss is, too, and the mailman, and oh, they need to buy six more crystals to counteract this horrible assault.

I never tried it, but I’m pretty sure if I’d brought up that NPD is an actual mental illness (not some magic energy suck woo thing, either), I’d have been banned and probably declared to be a narcissist/vampire myself.

That seems to be the favorite tactic of a lot of the more toxic in the New Age psychic/empath community - “Anyone who questions me is a narcissist and therefore evil.”

I’ll be honest, I don’t actually know that much about NPD, but I’m pretty damn sure a personality disorder doesn’t make someone a reprobate evil energy sucker or whatever.

I mean, sure, if someone in your life is acting toxic, you can and shoot evade them, regardless of whether they have a mental illness or not but... c’mon.

I don’t believe it when these folks claim every single person they disagree with, dislike, or interact with unfavorably is a “narcissist.” I mean, really, plenty of people with or without mental illness can be abusive; no reason to turn a personality disorder into some big bad woo bogeyman.

If anyone reading this knows a bit more about NPD, I’d love to get a perspective on this, because, like I said, my experience with personality disorders is limited and I’m no psychologist.

And plus, the whole thing just reeks of “spectral evidence” in a witch trial.

It’s basically, “Some people are evil, but I can tell they’re evil and warn people! Even if nobody else knows!” It’s pretty easy for someone who’s set themselves up as psychic to target their enemies by claiming to “sense” something that nobody else can prove.

On that note, some of the most cringeworthy moments I’ve seen have involved the “empath” identity folks trying to talk about mental illness. As I said, they seem to see NPD (and sometimes, any personality disorder) as some kind of evil woo-woo thing. To me? That’s asinine, completely.

When it comes to mood disorders like I have, they tend to write them off as “misdiagnosed empathy.” In fact, a lot of sites and blogs around the internet (less so on Tumblr) will whine about the evils of psychiatry and how it’s just an attempt to suppress the magical empath gift.

The thing is, none of the people saying this seem to understand what (for example) bipolar disorder actually is.

They seem to think it’s just moodiness or feeling sad sometimes. It’s kind of impossible to explain to them the realities of mania and depression because most people will never experience them.

And, if you use a bit of logic, you can easily see why (in most cases) bipolar disorder wouldn’t be “misdiagnosed empathy.” The mood states you see in bipolar are, by definition, neuroatypical.

They aren’t seen “in the wild,” in neurotypicals. It’d be impossible to experience a mania empathically from being around a bunch of regular people because regular people do not experience mania.

I guess that maybe if you’re an extremely strong empath and constantly around someone with bipolar, you might deal with blowback from their moods, but I doubt it because I don’t think most people’s neurology is even conducive to having those experiences. I’m no neurologist, though, and I could be wrong.

So yeah, I get tired of people telling me I just need to “ground, center, and shield” like a good lil empath, and how my meds are “dampening” my “gift.” I usually just change the subject whenever it comes up because it’s easier than explaining how mania and depression actually work.

I mean, if anything, those experiences seem to make me (might not be true for everyone) less able to read other’s emotions, because the low self-esteem that came with my depression just caused me to assume the whole world hated me.

So yeah. I think the “empath identified” community is in dire need of cleaning itself out a bit and reformulating how it approaches this kind of thing.

On Tumblr, there are many genuine people and many genuine empaths, and you barely see any of this kind of thing on here. Still, I’ve seen enough of it out in the world that I thought it was worth posting/ranting about.

At this point, I rarely dare even call myself an empath (even though I definitely have an esoteric empathy “thing” going on, particularly with animals) just because I don’t want to be associated with this.

That doesn’t mean the concept is irredeemable, though - there’s been a lot of good books written recently about empathy, managing and honing it.

I recommend almost all the works of Raven Digitalis on the subject (Everyday Empath and Esoteric Empathy), and, heck, a lot of “mundane” books on CBT and even DBT can help with improving your functioning and best using your gifts.

I hope this post isn’t too offensive to everyone - I just wanted to get this off my chest, since I’d been pondering it for a while.

#witchblr #witchcraft #witch #empath #empathy #occult #eliza.txt #rant #long post #facebook #magick #magic #psychic #psychic abilities #mental illness #bipolar disorder #narcissists #narcissism #personality disorders

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latter-day-saint-nick · 4 years

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I should probably ignore this, but I’m feeling petty today.

I’ll address your second point first. The reason I singled out Moffat is because I’ve been annoyed with his work since Doctor Who, a show that I loved before he took over and the writing went downhill. My tag “flipping Moffat” is an in-joke between my wife and me. We started saying it in response to Moffat’s bad writing and dangling plot-threads on Doctor Who, but then went on to use that phrase jokingly whenever a piece of fiction has bad continuity and makes no sense, even when Moffat isn’t involved. Many of his worst qualities as a writer are on full display in Dracula: bad continuity, queerbaiting, dialogue that tries too hard to sound clever, clear contempt for the source material, poor attempts at female empowerment that just come off as sexist, male protagonists who are so much better and more important than everyone else. Since Moffat worked with Gatiss on both this and Sherlock, it’s safe to assume that Gatiss is just as bad of a writer as he is, but I can’t muster up the same hate towards him, simply because I know less about him. I don’t know what Gatiss’s personal views are like, but I have read plenty of interviews with Moffat where he says incredibly sexist and just generally gross things. So, yeah, screw Moffat and his relentless misogyny!

As to your first point, look, you’re allowed to disagree with my views, but saying that I shouldn’t be allowed to engage in media criticism is just rude. Especially when you don’t even bring up any counterarguments as to why I’m wrong apart from that the lead actor was hot. And you are absolutely allowed to enjoy trashy television because it has attractive people in it. Just like I’m allowed not to enjoy it.

Not to brag, but... okay, yeah, I’m totally saying this to brag, but I literally have a PhD in literature. Media criticism is kind of my thing. No, my rant was not on the level of an academic essay, but it wasn’t meant to be. My aim was mainly to be entertaining, which is why I used a joking tone throughout, even inserting some of the funny comments my wife and I made while watching the show.

But the fact that I have a PhD doesn’t even matter, because you didn’t just say that my critique was invalid, but that every person on Tumblr’s critique is. Why is that? Is it because there’s a lot of teenagers on this website? Teenagers may not have as much nuance in their media criticism than someone with more experience and education, but we all have to start somewhere, and just because someone’s young doesn’t mean they have nothing worthwhile to say. As far as I know, there’s no sign in front of fandom that says, “You must be this old for your opinion to matter.”

Have I seen bad media criticism on Tumblr? Sure. But I’ve also seen a lot of good, thoughtful discussions. I follow a lot of blogs that examine issues like sexism, racism and homophobia in media. Invariably, they get a bunch of hateful comments from people who think they’re over-analyzing or that they’re hurting the fandom by discussing racism. And this is kind of the vibe I’m getting from your comments, which is why they rankle me so much. Like I should just shut up about the problematic writing and let you enjoy your sexy vampires. (I apologize if I’m misunderstanding your intent here.)

Because while I mostly made fun of the bad continuity and the nonsensical plot, I did also touch on aspects I found troubling. Like queerbaiting. Literally one of the first lines of the show is, “Did you have sexual intercourse with Dracula?” Sister Agatha later explains that any contact with Dracula - including sexual - could have caused Jonathan’s condition, so there was no reason for her to phrase the question in such an asinine manner other than to tease LGBT+ audiences. And, no, the fact that Lucy has a stereotypical gay best friend in episode 3 does not make it okay. I talked about how Lucy’s characterization felt like a shallow attempt at female empowerment when it really just made her less sympathetic, because it showed her to be self-centred and vain. Which I feel is bad, sexist writing for a character we’re supposed to care about. Even making Van Helsing a woman came off as a shallow attempt at female empowerment when it seemed like the whole reason for the gender-swap was so she and Dracula could be shown in bed together at the end without it being gay. Maybe you disagree that showing Lucy being painfully and horribly burned alive was racist. I mean, in isolation the scene is still disturbing, but maybe not indicative of anything more. But taken together with the treatment of Bill Potts in Doctor Who it does present a troubling trend. Does Moffat (and Gatiss) actively hate black women and want them to suffer? No, probably not. But there is a subconscious bias in society that black women can take more pain than other women, and this shows up in the way they are treated in fiction. This is not a problem unique to Moffat, as the companion who was put through the most crap before Bill Potts was Martha Jones, another black woman. And this was during Davis’s era of Doctor Who.

So, believe or not, I actually put a lot of thought into my silly Dracula post. If you want to have a discussion about points you disagree with, that’s fine. But don’t just go around telling people that they shouldn’t be allowed to express their opinion.

#flipping moffat #sexism #racism #queerbaiting #ageism #bbc dracula

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petitprincess1 · 5 years

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They Have Such Great Chemistry

Summary: Flug ends up noticing that Slug has gone silent for a while and decides to check up on him…by breaking and entering, of course! How else would you do it?

Words: 1,568

Characters: Flug, Slug, White Hat (briefly), Clemencia (briefly), Demencia (probably shouldn’t even count from how brief she is)

Warnings: …Puns…and I guess obsessive behavior.

This was spawned from a little fun thing @emile-hides and I did with these two and I had even more fun writing it. So, consider this a gift, Emile. Love ya!

Flug stood outside of White Hat’s mansion at midnight- yes, mansion because the idiot probably thought he was too good to have a hat-styled house like his Jefecito. -and walked around the perimeter of the outside gate, messing with his backpack straps. Yeah, he wasn’t really trying to be stealthy or anything for two reasons. First, anyone who would dare try to stop him would be on the very top of his laundry list…not like actual laundry list- I mean, he actually has that since nobody else does their damn clothes because it must be soooo hard to- you know what? The point is that they’ll be dead. All of them. Dead. Secondly…Flug wanted to check up on somebody.

He took a remote out from his pocket and pressed a button. A soft beep came from it as mechanical spider limbs deployed from the backpack, allowing him to easily leap over the gate and land on the lawn. Unlike with his ingenious overlord, White hadn’t bothered to install a security system outside of his home. “It takes up too much energy and time for something I can easily make disappear with a snap of my fingers,” yeah, sure. You can just say your lazy. It’s okay. No one will judge, except Flug. He definitely will. Greatly.

Flug shook himself out of his thoughts as used the robot limbs to circle around the house, looking for a specific window. As he was searching, a loud explosion boomed above him, making him quickly hide in a nearby bush. He then groaned loudly as he heard White Hat shouting, “Clemencia! What did I say about blowing yourself up!?”

Clemencia then shouted back to him, “Demmie sent me a bomb, Whitey! That means she loves me!!”

“I…no, Clem. No, I don’t think that’s how that works.”

Flug rolled his eyes at the two imbeciles, wondering how someone as glorious- but not as glorious as Black Hat -Slug could deal with such asinine people. A loud sigh came from nearby and after hearing the sound and length of the breath, it made Flug’s heart leap to his throat. He quickly disengaged the spider limbs and ran over to the nearby bay window, smiling widely and staring longingly. He stared at the other scientist that wore a dark brown bag over his head, a black, loose sweater that read “I’ve always liked one-liners. That’s why I’m a fan of monorails.”, dark grey sweatpants, and just socks. It was very minimalist and it made Flug almost melt. However, gazing at Slug was not what he was here for…he can do that tomorrow.

Flug quickly took out a laser and cut a circle into the glass, tapping it so the small piece could come out easily and grabbed at it so it wouldn’t shatter on the wooden floor. He crawled through the small hole and silently got onto the floor, tiptoeing over to Slug. White’s scientist had been very quiet for a long while, considering that he hadn’t seen him move around on the cameras that he had secretly installed. He had just been staring quite vehemently at a piece of paper for several hours. Luckily, White Hat’s Hatbot often brought him food or else Flug most likely would’ve broken into his house a long time ago, force feeding Kaiser raw eggs.

Once Flug got close, he peered over his shoulder and saw that Slug had scribbled a bunch of equations and ingredients onto a few sheets of paper. There also was candy scattered about near the papers. One of which that was in a container that read “HIGHLY VOLATILE! DO NOT TOUCH, CLEM!” Seems like his windbeutel (cream puff) was having a bad day. Although, he didn’t know that candy and baking needed math in order to make anything, even though baking is said to use chemistry. Don’t you just throw everything in a pot or bowl and it just somehow becomes something? …And this might be why 505 does majority of the baking in the house.

Flug sighed sadly, “Poor, Slug.”

Slug then jumped, turned around, and then punched Flug in the throat, causing the scientist to make disgusting retching/choking sound and grab at his neck. The taller scientist stood up quickly and frantically apologized, red pupils in his goggles moving quickly, “Fuck! Shit! Flug! No! I’m so…wait. Why am I apologizing? Why the fuck are you in my room!?”

Flug coughed a few times before hoarsely saying, “I…I can’t b-believe…you just…punched me…i-in the throat!”

“What the f- You snuck into my room…and through the window, apparently!”

“Well, how else was I supposed to get in? Geeze!”

Slug took a deep breath to calm himself and then rubbed at his temples, sighing, “Why…Why are you here?”

The other scientist rubbed at his neck some more before answering Slug, “Well, you weren’t moving around all that much, so I thought that it would be best to come and check up on you.”

He blinked down at him and knew that he would probably regret asking this, but his damn curiosity got the better of him. Slug took another deep breath and then questioned, “Okay…so, what made you come over here? What made you think that there was something wrong?”

Flug grabbed at the papers scattered on his desk and started reading them over, while explaining, “Well, considering that I hadn’t seen you move from the camera I installed in your bedroom to any of the others like in your closet, second lab, bathroom- audio only, of course. I’m not a perv. -the kitchen, or anywhere in the halls, I assumed that something must be wrong. Plus, I hadn’t heard a single sound from you. You can’t tell me that’s not worth me breaking and entering for.”

A dork. Yeah, Slug could, probably should, be thinking that this man is clearly unhinged and needed to be apprehended right now, but no. Sure. Let’s just say that this is just dorky behavior. He gave a small chuckle and explained, “It’s nothing really. I always get silent and quietly curse everyone who ever lived whenever I’m stuck on a problem. Also, don’t bother trying to figure that out. I saw you try to cook a frozen casserole…with the paper on.”

“The directions didn’t say not to.”

“I think common sense says not to,” Slug gave a cheeky grin before grabbing the sheets of paper and then reading them over, going silent once more as he his brows furrowed in concentration. Flug couldn’t help but pout at him going silent once more and really wanted to help. Although, he was unfortunately right about him not being able to help him with his work. He probably would just make things worse in that regard.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and shuffled on his feet, wondering what to do, and then gasped at a thought. Flug smiled at him under his bag and called out, “Hey, Slug, the guy next to me asked if I had any hypo bromide, I said NaBrO.”

Slug shuffled a bit where he sat, but didn’t really have that much of a reaction. Still, Flug persisted, “So, Demencia threw sodium chloride at me the other day and I told her…that’s a salt!”

Again, nothing. He kept going, chuckling slightly, “Are my chemistry jokes too basic for you? Is that why there’s no reaction? Also, you must be an exothermic reaction because you spread your hotness everywhere!”

He heard a slight puff of breath come from Slug, that was a bit of progress. He almost could see a smile practically underneath there. So, he continued, “Is it getting hot in here or is that just our bond forming? If I could rearrange the periodic table, I would put Uranium and Iodine together. ….Uh….I must be a diamond because you gave me a hardness of 10!”

That made Slug choke and then bark out, laughing, “Pffffttt! What!? Flug, you’re such a dork!”

Flug gave a small sigh and mentioned, “Oh, good, you finally laughed. I was running out of chemistry jokes. All the good ones argon.”

Slug gave a small snicker as he got up and lifted up both of their bags to give Flug a quick kiss before pulling his down quickly, making Flug whine. The taller scientist chuckled, “Don’t worry. You’ll see it soon. Also, I guess you’re staying here tonight, considering that you are fixing my window, right?”

Flug gave an embarrassed chuckle, but then stopped when he saw Slug about to look at his papers again. He lowered his hands and then shook his head, “Slug, it’s not going to get fixed just by staring. You’re incredible…don’t worry about it. You’ll figure it out. Plus, it’s the middle of the night.”

Slug was gonna mention that it was odd that the man who has stayed up for 72 hours is telling him to sleep, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He just nodded at him and guided Flug over to his bed before suddenly stopping. He looked over his shoulder and said, “Hey, Flug. Are you my appendix? Because I have gut feeling that I would love to take you out.”

Flug’s goggles had stars in them as he opened his mouth to say something, just for it to be interrupted by Demencia in the vents, shouting, “NEEEEERRRRDDDDSSS!!”

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 5 years

Text

A Memory Of The Smell of Smoke, Ch 4.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Everyone liked to pretend that Campbell had been born bad. That their fear and hatred were logical, rational, justified, because Campbell was a monster incapable of making the choice between good and evil. Because he couldn’t feel the way they did. Well, fuck that. He was gonna prove them wrong. At least, that had been the plan.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Emotional Baggage, Mental Health Issues, Child Abuse, Substance Abuse, Animal Death, Complicated Relationships, Pre-Slash, Denial of Feelings, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Implied Rape, Campbell has mild ASPD and is self aware enough to try and be better, the non-con is NOT Campbell, didn’t add an official warning because it is the aftermath only, yes it is the party becca mentioned and there will be a warning in the notes of that chapter, Campbell/Harry, Campbell/Elle.

Word Count: 4673 (chapter 4/5).

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 5 || AO3

Disclaimer: This chapter involves what happened to Becca, and discusses the aftermath of sexual assault. (The perpetrator is unknown.) It is implied, not shown, but still may be upsetting. Reader discretion is advised.

Senior year didn't seem to be too wild, at first.

Knowing made things better, but they also made things worse in some ways. Campbell did agree with Cassandra that they didn't have to be evil, irredeemable people. Unfortunately, there were few resources out there that had any sort of positive, hopeful outlook. Campbell knew that, be he still tried to find some anyways. The ones he did manage to find were often anonymous men talking about how awesome they were and laughing about torturing animals, abusing their family, and sharing prison stories. Some forums were a bit less intense, but Campbell never bothered engaging. He was like a jalapeno among a bunch of ghost peppers. They weren't going to improve his situation any.

"It's like any other condition," Cassandra said while Campbell helped her bake cookies for some sort of asinine fundraiser. "There's a spectrum of severity. Some people are on the end where it's not really noticeable."

Campbell stirred a giant bowl of batter, taking out his frustration on the chocolate chip mix. "I know people can't help being what they are, exactly, but I don't know where I fall on that spectrum and it's kind of..."

"Scary?"

"Maybe. They say people like us can't get scared. Do you believe that?"

Cassandra popped a batch in the oven and flopped onto the kitchen stool. She tilted her head, thinking. "Mm. I don't know. I suppose that for me, it's more that I get concerned, but I think that's what it's supposed to be. Fear. But it's fainter, you know? It doesn't last long. Just enough to make me think."

"That's why you're so good at debate, I guess."

"Probably. What about you?"

"Dunno. I guess social anxiety is common in guys with it. I don't know if that's the same as fear, though. I just hate getting in front of a group of people I know hate me, and try to pretend they don't, you know? I don't worry about much else."

"Handy."

"Sometimes."

Cassandra swung her feet. She leaned on the counter and rested her hand on her chin, peering at him. "What about love?"

"What about it?"

"Have you been in love?"

Campbell stopped stirring for a moment. "I don't know. It's kind of a weird thing. I guess I do feel attracted to people, sometimes."

"Like Harry?"

"How do you figure?"

"I have eyes, and I know you."

"Whatever." He started scooping balls of dough onto a cookie sheet. Cassandra made a gesture for him to continue. "Yeah. Harry, but he's got Kelly now. And there's this girl in school I kinda like. Elle. Never seems to really hang out with anyone, kinda has a snooty vibe, but she's pretty."

Cassandra nodded. "She is. But attraction isn't love, really."

"It's not. I don't know, I guess it's... I think I love Sam. I mean, you love Allie, right?"

"I do." She shrugged. "She's fun. Smart. I wouldn't give up my dream of going to Yale to go to her college or anything, but we take care of each other. I want her to be safe and happy. I try not to hurt her on purpose, even if I do by accident, sometimes. I think that's love, or something like it. I loved our cat. I love my parents."

"Then sure. I've felt love. Too bad the last time I tried to get close to someone, it all got fucked up. Doesn't bode so well for the future, does it?"

The timer dinged, and Cassandra pulled a tray of cookies out. The kitchen filled up with the scent of butter and chocolate. She set the tray down and popped another in. "I think... I think that a lot of people, in general, judge a group of people by the worst among them. And I think some symptoms are just scary, and people don't get enough help or don't care enough to mind themselves, and it all just snowballs."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's not like professionals have studied every single person on the planet. They're going off reported cases and prison records. Maybe the people you're reading about are just the worst of us. In any case, it doesn't mean you have to be like them."

"You're not."

"No. Not quite." Cassandra tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm lucky. I'm a privileged white girl, so they just assume I'm a frigid, entitled bitch. Or an angry feminist. If I'm careful, and I try to be good, that's all I'll ever be to them. Annoying and self righteous and stuck up."

"Doesn't mean I've got a chance."

"Of course you do. Evil is a choice, Campbell. So we have low empathy. People don't need empathy to understand other people, or to be compassionate towards them. We can still understand and choose to do what is right. At the end of the day, all it comes down to are what choices we make. We can decide the type of person we're going to be."

It was a nice thought, if nothing else.

He didn't really want to change everything about himself. He kind of liked some of it, and since things went tits up with Sam, Campbell had come to appreciate and embrace even some of the messier, darker parts, too. But it was true enough. He could choose to not burn his house down, he could choose not to steal, he could choose not to kick dogs or pick on people more vulnerable than himself. Now that he had some idea of what was going on and had Cassandra there to help him, maybe it was worth it to try and follow her example a little. He didn't care about trying to be someone he wasn't, and his peers weren't going to forget his history at all, so there was no point there. But keeping out of legal trouble, and keeping himself from turning into some kind of animal that beat up his loved ones? That was something he was keen on avoiding. If he knew what his risk factors were for the future, maybe he could just be his natural asshole self without leaving too much destruction in his wake.

In a world of small blessings, he had other people's drama to keep himself entertained, without having to cause any of his own. Harry and Cassandra ran for student body president, and it was a vicious campaign on both sides. Naturally, Cassandra won. Harry was charming enough, but he didn't have the cutthroat attitude needed to secure a victory. Harry still had a party after, though considering the turnout was crap despite the fact that his parents were out of town, it could hardly be called a party.

"Nobody wants to be here," Harry groaned into his pillow after the last of the meager guests had left. "I've lost it, Cam. I had it and I lost it."

Campbell chewed on a slice of cold cheese pizza. "Pretty sure you never had it, buddy. I think it was the alcohol and pot, there."

Harry let out a strangled whine. He tried to hit Campbell with the pillow, but Campbell caught it with his free hand and tugged it from Harry's grasp with ease. "Fuck." Harry sat up and rubbed his face. "What am I supposed to do? I'm a loser. Everyone hates me."

"I don't hate you. Kelly doesn't hate you."

"I'm still a loser."

"Don't be boring." Campbell sighed. "Look, you've got parents who love you, a gorgeous girlfriend, an expensive car, and you're not a leper or anything. You've got it pretty good. Why worry about popularity? It's all a bunch of bullshit, anyways."

"Because you've never felt what it's like to have tons of friends and see it all slip away because you're not drugging them up anymore. It's humiliating."

"Nah, you're right. I definitely don't know what it's like to lose people I thought loved me."

Harry winced at the sharpness in Campbell's tone. "Shit, man. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just... You've always seemed so above it all. I'm not like that."

"You used to be. What changed?"

"It's not worth talking about."

Campbell gently whacked Harry with the pillow. "Tell me. C'mon, I never ask otherwise, and you never share. Is it a girl problem?"

"My dad's dying."

The words tumbled out of Harry's mouth in a rush. Campbell wanted to say something, but Harry began to cry. Fuck. Reaching out, Campbell lightly rested his hand on Harry's knee. Was that an acceptable level of comfort? He didn't know, but apparently it was, because Harry leaned over and burrowed against Campbell's side.

"I just wanted to do something important, so he could be proud of me," Harry sobbed into Campbell's shoulder. "He's not gonna be around to see me get to college, and I can't even manage this one fucking little thing."

"Hey. A lot of colleges have early decision programs. I heard Cassandra talking about it, with Yale. If you want, I can help you look into it."

Harry blinked up at him, and goddamn those doe eyes did it every time. "Really? You'd help me?"

"Sure. You want to go to Harvard, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, if I can pull it off."

"You can pull it off. Trust me."

Campbell managed to steer the conversation towards college, and what they planned to do after graduation. It was an easier subject for Campbell, and Harry seemed to welcome the distraction. Harvard did in fact have such a program, and he helped Harry gather together everything he needed. Maybe Harry couldn't be president of the school, but it would be more impressive to show his dad an admissions letter from one of the top three universities in the country.

"What are you gonna do?" Harry asked. "I know you hate this town."

"I don't know. I figured I'd run away to LA or something."

"Seriously?"

"I saved most of the money I got off of dealing. My parents never found it, so why not? Just buy a one way ticket and figure things out when I get there."

Harry gave him a rueful smile. "If anyone here could make it there, it'd be you."

But they both knew it was just a silly dream. Of course Harry got into Harvard; he'd gotten his letter late December, and Campbell knew he couldn't move across country from his best friend. Campbell applied to colleges in January, like most other students. He'd know his fate in six to eight weeks. In the meantime, he balanced his attention between Harry and Elle, the girl that had caught his attention before.

Elle Tomkins was one of those rare people who wasn't born and raised in West Ham, transplanted there in the 7th grade when her parents moved from New York. Too young to get that "new interesting freshman" mystique, but too old for the other kids to forget she hadn't always been there. Campbell had never seen her with anyone. And she was quirky, from what he knew. She didn't seem interested in hanging out with the other students much, and she rarely smiled. He heard from Harry, who heard from Kelly, that Elle was a dancer. It explained some things, like her almost fragile appearance, and the fact that he'd never seen her eat anything. Of course, not all dancers were tiny or thin or never ate, but she fit the stereotype.

He hadn't really considered dating before, but now that he had some grasp on what was happening in his head... Well, everyone else was pairing off, or flirting with some out-of-town hottie. Hell, even Cassandra had some guy she'd gone out and had coffee with when she went to scope out Yale. There were only five months of high school left, and he'd spent his entire school life just trying to survive and not get himself in trouble. Maybe it was possible he could find someone, too. And maybe, if he was right about her, Elle was a possibility. Even if it resulted in another friend, well, maybe having another friend was something that could benefit them both.

But then Harry's father died, one cold morning.

"All the money in the world," Harry seethed after the funeral, "and it still can't save you from stage four prostate cancer."

Campbell passed him a bit of weed that he'd gotten from one of his suppliers. "Shit luck. Most people survive prostate cancer."

"Yeah, well the dickbag never could be convenient."

He couldn't blame Harry for being pissed. Harry's mother was a wreck, diving into alcohol and pills herself in one of the most hypocritical displays Campbell had ever seen. She was on the verge of losing her job, the house was going to shit despite the fact that Harry tried to clean when he didn't have school. The only reason Campbell knew was because he started coming over to help Harry once a week. Which was, incidentally, how he found the cocaine.

Campbell held up the little bag of white powder as he cleaned underneath the bathroom sink. "Uh, Harry? What's this?"

"It's mine." Harry reached for it, but Campbell pulled back. "Fuck, Cam. Give it to me."

"You're snorting cocaine now? Harry, you're going to Harvard soon. You can't afford to get hooked on this shit."

"That's rich, coming from you."

"Yeah, I get it. But I also got my ass back in line, for the most part, and I'm not going to Harvard fucking Law School. Weed is one thing, alcohol is one thing. But this will fuck you up fast, man."

"Just give it back, okay? I just need a little bit right now."

Campbell stepped away again, as Harry tried to snag the drugs from Campbell's hand. Before he could blink, Harry had tackled him to the ground and was fighting for the bag. Campbell get punched across the jaw, but he barely felt it. He managed to flip Harry onto his back, pinning him down and holding him there while he struggled.

"Looks like you finally got me where you wanted me," Harry spat. "Asshole."

Campbell shrugged. "I actually prefer being on bottom."

"What, you actually turned fucking gay or something?"

"Bi, I think. Maybe. I haven't figured it out yet. Would explain a few things, though."

Harry stared up at him. At least he'd finally stopped wiggling. "Seriously?" When Campbell raised an eyebrow, Harry let his head thump back against the floor. "Huh. And I always thought you were joking."

"Were you?"

"I'm not gonna get my coke back, am I."

An evasion, but Campbell let it slide. "Nope. Not a chance in hell."

"I could get more."

"Sure, but then I'm not helping you clean up your mother's grief-riddled trauma hoard. Then you'll end up just like Lexie, trapped in your room by a wall of Cosmopolitan magazines and yogurt containers full of cat poop."

Harry let out a huff. "Whatever, fine. Get rid of it."

Campbell pocketed the cocaine and took it with him when he left. Of course he would get rid of it, in his own way. If he found the right buyer, he could get an easy $300 off it. He didn't sell much anymore, but it was an opportunity, and he wasn't going to pass that up. Especially since, after eight weeks of waiting, all his application letters had been rejected. No fancy school for him after graduation. Maybe he'd start a band and movie to New York City instead, or go flip burgers for some funky food truck in Boston, or buy a car with a rattling muffler and go on a cross country road trip with Harry when he was on break. Whatever. There was more to life than getting in debt for a slip of paper during a shitty economy with few job prospects.

In the meantime, he could still have a little fun. $300 was enough to get an ear piercing, and have plenty left over. The left ear, just because it was easier to get the damn thing in there; it wasn't any kind of statement. It was an impulsive purchase, but it made him feel good, and he needed the pick-me-up after all the college crap. Plus, it made his parents and other adults give him disapproving looks. Always a bonus.

Cassandra offered to help him apply to other schools. "You could still get into a decent one," she said as she made a poster for the pro-immigration rally coming up in March. "There are plenty of colleges near Yale that would take you. Or maybe you'd wanna go to Massachusetts with Harry?"

"And watch him drape all over his girlfriend every weekend? Gag me. No, I think I'm gonna run away to India and learn how to grow tea or something."

"Whatever suits your fancy. Are you coming to the rally with us? Gordie and some other friends are going."

Campbell sprawled across the sofa, peering at her upside down. Any reason to go past the West Ham town lines sounded like a good time. "Yeah, sure. Just in case I need to punch some fucking neo nazis for you."

"Perfect."

As things so often went, there were some little hiccups when it came time for the rally. No one had told Campbell that Sam was coming with. They all got piled into Gordie's truck, with Gordie, Becca, and Cassandra in front, and Campbell stuffed into the back with everyone else. Thankfully, Campbell managed to grab a window seat by saying he'd throw up like a dog otherwise. Sam was next to him, with Allie on the other side of Sam and Will at the driver side window. Less thankfully, Campbell could see Allie shooting him glares and whispering something to Will; he couldn't hear what was said, and he didn't really care, but it was an annoyance all the same.

"Do you have water?" Sam signed to him. It was the first time they'd really spoken in a while, and of course, it had to be to mother-hen him. "It's going to be warm out."

Campbell bit down his irritation long enough to reply with a curt 'yes'. Sam didn't speak to him for the rest of the car ride.

It was a bit less claustrophobic once they got to the rally. It wasn't huge, and they managed to stake out a spot in the shade. It was still too crowded for Campbell's liking, so he stuck to the little headquarters they established, guarding the snacks and drinks while the rest of them went out and got their protesting on. Becca came back sooner than the others, a vague pink stain on her tshirt and a smug smile on her face.

"What did you do?" Campbell asked as she flopped down and popped open a soda. "I usually only have that face when I've tripped Clark down the stairs."

Becca laughed. "Milkshakes are even better when you yeet them at an alt-right douchebag, as it turns out."

"Damn, I'm sorry I missed that."

"I'm kinda surprised you came at all. This isn't usually your scene, is it?"

"No. I'm more of a stay at home and binge watch Riverdale sort, but Cassandra wanted me to come with, and it's a few hours away from Stepford Central."

"For sure." Becca eyed him. He knew that look, that wary and curious sort of squint where someone was trying to figure him out. "Are you going to Harry's party tomorrow night? I think he finally got desperate enough to invite me, and my mom's got an appointment with Two-Buck Chuck, so I thought I'd check it out."

Campbell let out a small snort. "Yeah, I guess. He met some older folks when he went up to Harvard in September, so he's inviting them and their liquor."

"Ooh, anyone cute?"

"Like, guys?"

"Anyone," Becca grinned.

"Probably. Harry likes pretty people."

That was how they ended up going to the party together. Campbell had never really taken an interest in any of Cassandra's friends before, but he knew Becca was Sam's best friend, and she seemed like the right mix of sarcastic and broken that Campbell found relatable. Becca had never been to a proper party before, so they stuck together at first; Harry was off schmoozing with his new college buddies, Kelly smiling politely on his arm, and that wasn't anything Campbell wanted to interrupt. Not until Becca vanished.

"Hey, have you seen Becca?" Campbell wondered. "She went to get a drink about ten, fifteen minutes ago and I haven't seen her since."

Harry glanced up from his pack of drinking buddies. "Nope, I haven't. Maybe you got ditched?"

It was possible, Campbell reasoned. After all, he and Becca weren't exactly friends, and they hadn't made some sort of blood pact to stay together the whole night. Still, Campbell didn't know any of these people and something in his stomach didn't sit right. He prowled around the house, looking for some sign of her, but Becca wasn't downstairs at all and Campbell felt his suspicion deepen as he headed upstairs. When he finally found her, she was in one of the spare bedrooms, sitting on the bed and staring into space.

"Becca?"

She looked over at him. Her eyes were glassy, vacant. "Campbell, where..." Her speech was lightly slurred. "Where'm I?"

Fuck. Campbell moved slowly, coming over to her and kneeling down next to her. Her hair was messy, her clothes askew. Fuck, shit. "Hey. You're at Harry's party. What do you remember?"

"I don't... I don't feel good."

He grabbed her a wastebin and held her hair back as she threw up. At some point, she started to shake, and Campbell ran through the options. First, he had to check to make sure she was breathing okay, check her forehead with the back of his hand to see if she was clammy, check her pulse. She was sweaty and her pulse seemed a little slow, but maybe he could just drive her to the hospital himself.

"Do you think you can walk?" he asked. "I need to get you to a doctor."

Becca shook her head and moaned. "No, no, no. I don't wanna."

"Becca, if someone attacked you..."

"He didn't. He didn't, I wanted to. I really wanted to, but then everything got fuzzy and I don't... I don't even remember what he looked like." She began to cry, hard. "I just wanna go home."

Campbell frowned. If she had been raped, she needed to see someone. Didn't they test for DNA and shit? But he wasn't going to further traumatize her by trying to force her into an emergency room to get prodded at. Not when she was still drugged. "Alright. Do you want me to take you home?"

She nodded, leaning against him as he curled an arm around her and helped her to the stairs. Harry gave them a quizzical look as they made their way to the door, but Campbell just shook his head and Harry backed off. It was a longer walk to Becca's home, but they made it without too many stumbles. Becca's mother was passed out in the living room, so Campbell just steered Becca towards the room she pointed at.

Propping her up with pillow, Campbell tucked Becca into bed, but wasn't sure what to do after. Someone needed to stay with her for a few hours, make sure she didn't throw up and choke on it. "Do you want me to call Sam?"

"Don't." Becca huddled under her blankets, looking pale and miserable. Her voice was still weak and muffled. "Can you... can you stay for a bit?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Campbell sat on the floor next to Becca's bed, watching videos on his phone with the sound muted. Becca drifted in and out of sleep, and every so often she'd cry again, but she didn't throw up and she managed to keep down the glass of water Campbell brought her. Four hours later, and Becca seemed to be pulling out of it; her heart rate was better when Campbell rechecked, and her speech was clearer.

"Must not have been a big dose," Campbell muttered. Sick fucking assholes. "I think you're going to be alright from here, if you want me to go."

"I feel better. Thank you for helping me."

It would have been easy to just nod and walk out, but he knew she'd just been hurt. Badly. She was probably in shock. Even if she still didn't want to go to the hospital, he had to try a little before he just left here there. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Becca chewed her lip. For a moment, Campbell thought she'd reconsider, but she shook her head and forced a watery smile. "I just want to get some sleep." The smile faltered as her eyes filled with tears again. "I don't even know what happened."

"I'm pretty sure you got slipped GHB. That's not your fault, Becca."

She just stared down at her hands. "Can you not tell anyone about this? For now? Maybe... I need to think."

"Of course."

"Thank you."

Campbell picked up Becca's phone, adding his number into the contact list. "When you wake up tomorrow, if you need anything or want me to take you somewhere, or get you something, text me. Okay?"

"Okay."

And that was that. Campbell headed home, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to do next. He couldn't tell Sam, and he couldn't tell Harry. Not yet, not without Becca's permission. Was it someone they knew? One of those leering frat boys Harry invited in? What if they gave Becca HIV or something? There was nothing he could do, not without betraying whatever thin amount of trust or friendship there was between them. All he could do was go home and wait.

What the hell was wrong with their town? Sam, getting a weird infection that took his hearing. Cassandra, with her heart problem and them both having strange brain wiring, cancer that just suddenly appeared and killed a man, hoarding and drugs and alcohol and, and, and... It seemed like it was just a never ending bunch of bullshit. What, was the town built on some kind of goddamn burial ground or something? He used to find people's petty dramas amusing, but looking back, things had always been just one rotten thing after another.

Campbell stood outside his home, gazing towards the door. It was past one in the morning, and he could see the light on in the living room. Maybe he could just... not come home at all. Shaking his head, he walked up the steps and opened the door. His parents were there, waiting. He didn't even try to speak first, or explain.

"Where have you been?" his mother snapped. "It's almost two!"

"Sorry. A friend of mine got sick and I had to make sure they were okay."

His father crossed his arms. "You're supposed to called. Who was this friend? Where are their parents?"

"Are you gonna ground me, or what? Because it's been a really bad night and I kinda wanna just go to bed."

"Apologize properly, and we'll think about it."

Campbell closed his eyes a moment, taking a slow breath. "I'm sorry that I didn't call. It won't happen again." You fucking creeps. "May I go upstairs now?"

"Fine. Go."

No need to be told twice. Campbell headed to his room and took a long shower, rinsing the smell of booze and smoke off him; if his parents had noticed, they had chosen not to bring it up. Yet. A small miracle, maybe. By the time he crawled into bed, he could barely keep his eyes open. He'd figure out what to do in the morning. It was April. Three months until graduation. After that, the town poison wouldn't be his worry anymore.

With luck, until then, things wouldn't get worse.

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prettyyoungtragedy · 6 years

Text

“Controlled and Calculated” (6)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, always controlled, always stoic, always calculated. He’s an attorney and a damn good one at that. Until his new courthouse dance partner is the most sure-footed, infuriating woman he has ever come across.

A/N: Alright part 6! It’s a liiiittle more angsty than the previous chapter, some shit goes down and Bucky becomes an asshole and Steve is always an asshole and I fucking love it! lol enjoy? Throw me a reblog?

This is an AU drabble (I use the term loosely here) series for @mydragulesebastian 2.5k challenge. Congrats lovely!

Pairing: Lawyer!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Banner by the lovely @readitandweepfics

Warnings: None

Peggy Carter sat at her desk, glaring at her two oldest friends before her. She could not in that moment find the words to aptly describe just how infuriated and frustrated she was with the two of them. It had been almost a decade of friendship and these two had turned on each other and become such bitter rivals that sometimes it cost the company business.

She had the last three Junior Associates that she had assigned between the two of them quit because of their shenanigans and she had enough.

“Peggy..” Steve started but she cut him off,

“Shut up Steve”

“Okay then.”

“Do you two know how long it took me to find a capable woman who was willing to move her entire life to come and work for us?” She said icily,

“Peggy,” Bucky tried to speak but she shut him up as well,

“No I don't even want to hear it Buck, I trusted you with her because I thought you would be more mature than Steve with this,”

“Hey!” Steve exclaims feigning offence,

“But clearly I was wrong. I am so tired of this asinine behavior! I swear to god if this woman quits, I am firing both of you!” She snapped ignoring his offended look and, pointedly looking at Steve now.

“Can I speak now?” Bucky said drily,

Peggy looked at him and crossed her arms, waiting for whatever stupid explanation he was going to give her.

“Firstly, this bet was Steve’s idea and secondly, I already told you I don’t need her to you can give her to Steve if this will end this inane discussion.”

“Bucky that’s not the point I am trying to make here!” peggy exclaimed exasperatedly, “You can’t work alone! This is why I assigned her to you, your performance reviews from the people who work with you said that you were volatile, cold and didn’t play well with others!”

Steve stifled his laughter but quickly shut up when both Bucky and Peggy turned their angry glares at him. “And don’t even get me started on you Steve! You might be right behind Bucky in winning cases for this firm but you have to stop playing games with all the interns! I have had several complaints about it.” She snapped at her ex husband.

“Well now that’s not fair, I treat those interns well, they should be grateful I don’t fire their incompetent asses when I am always cleaning up after them” Steve retorted,

Peggy sighed and began to rub her temples, feeling a stress headache coming on. She loved Bucky and Steve like family but sometimes she felt like the principal constantly having to scold her two star players for creating some kind of problem that she had to deal with.

“Guys, Tony is coming back in a weeks time. Please can we just hold it together until he gets here,” She said tiredly, “I can’t find a new associate for you Bucky, so please make it work and just be nicer to her and Steve for the love of god, do not fuck her. I beg you.”

Both men glanced at each other for a moment and then at Peggy, Bucky felt kind of bad when he saw just how much strain Peggy was under trying to run this entire firm while Tony had been away for the last six months due to family reasons. He could be a little less hardheaded. Steve who knew Peggy better than anyone felt a twinge of guilt, they could both be better men if they just tried but this was a competition Steve wanted to win, for some reason.

“Alright, are we done here?” Bucky said getting out of his seat,

“Yes.” Peggy sighed,

“Good, I have shit to do.” Steve rose to his feet as well,

“Behave!” Peggy called out as the two of them began to walk out of her office,

She leaned back in her chair as she watched the two of them try and shove each other out the way to get out the door first, and she shook her head lightly chuckling at the sight. How she ended up with these two in her life she will never understand.

“You wanted to see me?” You said tapping lightly on Steve’s office door,

He smiled when he saw you and beckoned you in, gesturing to one of the seats as he continued to talk to whoever was on the other end of the call he was on. You walked in and took a seat on one of the expensive leather chairs, patiently waiting for him to finish his phone call.

Steve threw you an apologetic smile and mouthed “Just a minute” to you as you waited. You just smiled and shrugged at him, even though you were becoming increasingly impatient with waiting for him.

Finally he is done, and he sets the phone looking at you. “Sorry about that,” he said apologetically,

“It’s fine” You replied, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, would you like to have drinks with me tonight?” Steve asked,

“Steve,” You started to say,

“With clients of course, it’s a professional courtesy. We do that for some of our highroller clients.” He added, explaining himself quickly.

“Oh, yeah sure. If it’s for work I’ll come,” You said, thanking god that he was not actually asking you out because after the other night you really wanted to avoid him and the little incident that had happened. You had shoved that memory far out of your mind and were hoping he would forget about it too.

“Great, it’s after work today. You can ride with me,” He said with a smile,

You nodded and started to get up to leave but he stopped you.

“So, are we going to talk about the other night or are you going to keep running in the other direction when you see me?” He asked. You froze for a moment and your eyes met his, a soft smile on his face as he observed you panic for a second.

You sighed and sat back down, you heart suddenly thundering in your chest. As much as you wanted to avoid this topic you knew you had to talk about it with him and tell him it can never happen again.

“Can I just keep running the other way?” You said hopefully,

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s not exactly a good coping method,” He said ,

“I know I know, I just don’t want to deal with it right now. I am new here Steve, I can’t be the girl everyone looks at and assumes those kinds of things about me,”

“Relax, no one is going to know anything or assume anything.” He placated you,

“It can’t happen again,” You stated,

“Why not?” Steve challenged you,

“Because you are my boss's ex husband Steve and I am here to work not fuck around!”

“So just to clarify, you were okay with what happened, just the fact that I am your bosses ex husband that’s what bothers you?”

You sighed exasperatedly, and ran your fingers through your hair. “No Steve, it all bothers me,”

“Even the kiss?” Steve said, his eyes flitting to the door for a moment and then to you,

“Especially the kiss,” You repeated, and an amused smirk settled over Steve’s face as leaned back in his chair and observed you.

“What kiss?” A voice sounded behind you. You didn’t even have to turn around to immediately feel the utter regret that torpedoed through you. You squeezed your eyes shut and grimaced, your heart beating so rapidly in your chest you thought it might explode.

You immediately jumped out of your seat and whirled around to face Bucky. He wore a frown on his handsome face, arms crossed as he stood in the doorway disapprovingly looking at you.

Your brain was racing trying to think of something to say but you were coming up empty, so Steve took the lead for you.

“The kiss Y/N and I shared the other night,” He said pointedly looking at Bucky with a satisfied smile on his face.

You whirled around and looked at Steve, open mouthed. You couldn’t believe he casually just threw you under the bus like that. But from the look on his face you realized he had wanted Bucky to hear that and that just made you angrier. You looked back at Bucky and if looks could kill both you and Steve would have been dead because the glare he was sending both you way actually made you freeze for a second.

“Mr Barnes,” You started to say but he doesn't let you finish, instead Bucky calmly walked towards you and handed you the file in his hand then looked at Steve for a moment then back at you.

“Tomorrow, 8 AM, completed.” He said coldly and then walked away without giving either of you a second look.

You stared after him, wishing the ground could open up and swallow you. Feeling like a complete idiot in that moment, and had no idea what to do so you directed your anger on the best next person.

“What the actual fuck?!” You exclaimed whirling around and looking at Steve, who was now seated in his chair with a smug look on his face that made you want to punch him.

“What? I can’t lie to my partners,” He shrugged,

“Bullshit! You wanted him to know, what fucking game are you playing at? Was it just your intention to humiliate me with him?!” You snapped at him,

“Oh calm down, it’s not like he’s going to tell Peggy, if you’re scared of that.” Steve rolled his eyes,

“That is not the point! You just humiliated me in front of someone who is basically my peer, Steve!” You hissed angrily at him, “And even worse, you seem satisfied with yourself”

“It was never my intention to humiliate you Y/N,” Steve said getting out of his seat and moving around the desk to stand in front of you, “I am sorry, I will go talk to Bucky fot you.”

“No!” You snapped, “You have done enough,”

Without letting him say anything further you stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind you. This garnered the attention of a few interns who were milling about, and you gave them all a filthy look as you blew passed them and walked into your office. You shut the door behind you and pulled the blinds closed, blocking out the office and anyone who would see you, you angrily threw the file Bucky had given you onto the desk and dropped into your desk chair.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuck!!” You screamed softly to yourself, dropping your head into your arms.

Shit was about to go sideways for you and you knew it.

“Nat, screen all my calls for the rest of the day.” Bucky said as he walked passed his assistants desk. The red head looked up from her screen and frowned as she watched Bucky walk into his office, loosen his tie and pour himself a scotch.

She sighed and pushed herself out of her desk chair, before making her way into his office.

“A little early for a drink, don’t you think?” She said moving to take the drink from his hand,

“Little early to be so judgemental, don’t you think?” Bucky muttered pulling the glass away from her, and running his hand tiredly across his stubbled chin.

“Wanna talk about it?” Natasha asked, taking a seat on the couch beside Bucky. Natasha had worked for Bucky for as long as he had been at the firm. They had started out as friends, and at some point they dated before breaking up and now Natasha was his assistant, to be fair she ran his life for him.

“Not particularly,”

“Well you don’t have a choice, tell me what’s the problem or I will beat it out of you,”

“Steve and that damn bet,” Bucky sighed, “The fucker is cheating, I dont know how but I know he is!”

“Are you serious?! You two made another bet! About who this time?” Natasha said exasperatedly,

“The new girl,”

“Y/N?”

“Uh huh,”

“What was the bet?” Natasha asked, taking the glass of Scotch from Bucky and taking a sip.

“The usual. Also you know you can’t drink at work right?”

“Sure I can, you don’t care right?”

“You know I am your boss right?”

“Get over it Bucky,” Natasha rolled her eyes, “So why is Steve winning?”

“Because he is being all sugary sweet and fake nice, he knows that’s not how this works yet he’s still doing it,” Bucky replied, downing the glass of scotch after taking it back from Natasha.

“Okay, so get on his level you whiny bitch.” Natasha said standing up,

Bucky looked up at her with a surprised look on his face, “What?”

“Do what he’s doing, only better. You know if you turned on that famous James Buchanan Barnes charm, no woman could resist you right?”

“That’s cheating,” Bucky pointed out,

“And when, Bucky , have you ever played by the rules?” Natasha sighed, shaking her head.

“I always play…” He started to say,

“Oh shut up and go flash those baby blues of yours to her, speak in that husky voice and win the god damn bet because I cannot for the life of me hear Steve gloat one more time about how him and Sam make a better team than we do!” She said cutting him off,

“Do you want me to win this for me or for you?” Bucky laughed, getting off the couch and moving to place the scotch glass back on the table.

“We both need this, so don’t fuck this up.” Natasha said rather dramatically before she walked out of his office, shutting the door behind her.

Bucky watched Natasha for a second before he chuckled lightly, shaking his head and took a seat at his desk. He had to think this through, he was furious that Steve had kissed her because it meant she clearly saw something she liked there. As primitive and childish this stupid bet was with Steve it was about more than just getting her, it was whose side she would pick while she worked here and that mattered to Bucky.

He hated losing to Steve, he hated it in high school, he hated it in college and he sure as shit hated it now. He was going to have to be just as underhanded as Steve was being if he was going to win, and she was just going to have to be collateral damage along the way.

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#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #sadie2.5k #james buchanan barnes #Lawyer!Bucky barnes #Lawyer!AU #marvel fanfic #Bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes headcanon

184 notes · View notes

nightcoremoon · 5 years

Text

So I finally watched Deadpool 2. long post. very... very... very long.

back in 2009 my then 7 year old sister really got into avatar the last airbender and I hadn't really watched it but I had to share the tv with my four sisters and honestly between the kids television and disney sitcoms it was a breath of fresh air, and for a year and a half we would wait for reruns of episodes we hadn't seen yet. avatar was the show that got me into fandoms. alas, time passed and by the time korra was playing we'd moved to a different house and lost cable tv because the stepfather refused to pay child support and we were on a one parent income. we didn't really do anything together anymore either because I was in high school now. but then she got super into comic books. and I mean SUPER into them. especially harley quinn and deadpool. so when they announced the first movie and suicide squad we had both collectively lost our shit in excitement. alas, mom said she wasn't allowed to watch it since it was rated R and she was only 14. so one late february afternoon I was gonna take her out to see a movie. I told mom we were going to go see zoolander 2. in the car, I looked at her and said

we're not watching zoolander

and she screamed

and we watched deadpool

AND IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME

anyway more time passed and I heard that a second one was coming out and I wanted to do the same thing but that didn't happen and I lost my chance to see it in the theater. and then as I got enraptured in transitioning and working and a whole bunch of other stuff I just never got around to it. I did watch all of the supporting videos and trailers and stuff though. anyways, my sister (yes the same one) just rented it on dvd from a video store and watched it with her boyfriend today (actually yesterday but shut up), so I just sat down to watch it after work and

Was

...

a little disappointing at first, don't get me wrong. there were a lot of plot contrivances and I LOATHE fridge stuffing. I literally made a joke, "if she dies I'm gonna be mad" and then BOOM she fucking died and I was so pissed off I almost just turned it off. but I decided fuck it might as well watch the whole thing. it was a huge step forward from a technical perspective and all of the cinematography was on point and I could tell david pulled his a-game and did so much better than tim did (sorry tim, I love mass effect 2 and scott pilgrim if it's any consolation) and felt so much more fluid of an action movie considering the man did john fucking wick. of course ryan was fantastic too, as he always is. everyone was great: rena, tj, karan, leslie, BRI AND KUTSUNA-SAN, zazie, and stef's voice plus the cgi crew. also I always love terry crews, bill skarsgard, matt damon, alan tudyk, and the two seconds that brad pitt was on screen, even if their appearances were for comedic effect. I wasn't really sold on julian though but he's a newcomer on the scene and he did pretty well for all intents and purposes. I could tell which scenes were filmed first thought but this isn't a scathing attack on a child's acting abilities. I'm just angry that the actual plot for getting to the end was so weak, that they're aware and had ryan lampshade the fuck out of it, and the last half hour was such a trip.

okay so first of all how in the FUCK did sergei figure out who deadpool's secret identity was, track down wade wilson's apartment, get a hit crew together, and make his way downtown in the amount of time it took dopinder to drive wade home, wade and vanessa to bang, and them to start watching a movie? oh yeah sure there's nothing saying that their talk about his daddy issues was the same day let alone the same hour as the previous scene except for the simple fact that there was no fucking indication that any time had passed. either way, someone fucked up, and it was for the sole purpose of fridging ness to cause wade manpain. although frankly the only thing I hate worse than killing off the previous waifu for the next is breaking them up for zero reason whatsoever from out of nowhere (or doing both: if you do both then you're no better than paul blart mall cop 2 and that movie is a steaming blight on humanity that's only saved by perfectly syncing to pink floyd's dark side of the moon album). and to be fair THEY ACTUALLY USED THAT AS A PLOT ELEMENT AND MADE ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AND HAUNTING SCENES I HAVE EVER SEEN IN A MOVIE. and also a hilarious one. so that sucked at first but then redeemed itself later. I'm still a little salty that he killed francis for nothing. MORE ON KILLING LATER.

(actually upon reflection maybe wade didn't hide his secret identity at all so it's perfectly reasonable that sergei just went after him but that would awaken a whole swathe of problems like why the fuck are wade and ness livin in the middle of the city full of crime and shit??? and more on that later)

dopinder killing his rival in love. come on now, that's just unrealistic. dopinder is too fucking incompetent to successfully murder anyone who isn't a pedophile. MORE ON THAT LATER.

the suicide. I can understand going out with a bang but are we supposed to believe that wade bought all those barrels, wheeled them in, and arranged them all and never once thought "well gee maybe I'm overreacting a little bit"? okay, he was depressed and not thinking clearly, but he was constantly getting drunk, doing coke, and god knows what else. he somehow didn't have the clarity to not kill himself but had just enough to arrange such an extravagant death? yeah yeah I get it, rule of funny and cool, and I can forgive it because it's deadpool, but god damn it that's really lazy (AND GODDAMN IT THEY EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE IT TOO. ITS LIKE THE ROYAL RAT AUTHORITY BONFIRE HERE). it's also indicative that weasel and colossus and dopinder are just bad or at least distant friends. and at least althea has an excuse being that she can't see. but as for the other two? bruh he is suicidal and unstable as hell. the last thing he needs is SPACE. but well maybe he hid it well, like kurt cobain, robin williams, chris cornell, chester bennington, okay writing this sentence maybe that actually does make sense. fuck.

negasonic thought that wade "flamboyant pansexual" wilson was lesbophobic? what? I understand it was for a joke but like come on now. surely she'd know that wade legitimately wanted to fuck colossus but wouldn't because he loved vanessa. lesbian gaydar works well, okay? then again the writers are not lesbians so I mean they can't be faulted for not grasping the raw power lesbians exude. (and if there's canonical evidence negasonic is actually bi, the same rule applies because wlw solidarity and stuff). and that's more than made up with the interactions between wade and yukio. whom I love and would die for. she's delightful and I hope she gets plenty of screentime in DP3. (also lmao 'pinkie pie from my little pony'. the real pink pony would be proud)

now, I get that this is purely because of license issues and budget constraints but THE WHOLE CONCEPT OF THE X MEN COEXISTING WITH THE PEDOPHILE HOME AND THE ICE BOX IN THE SAME UNIVERSE IS SO FUCKING ASININE. even if I made concessions for everyone being dead despite the timeline being fucked up the ass without lube, and admitting to never having watched literally any x men movie past X3 and yes that means I've not seen origins, japan arc [wait shit yukio's in that WTF SONY], first class, days of future past, apocalypse, or logan so I'm not an expert on the field but like. FUCK. I know there's jurisdiction, things change, erik is away and charles is dead (I think) and logan is dead (I know), and there's six whole movies I'm lost on, but jesus christ, none of that segment had any work done to make sure it was logical. so here we're supposed to believe that colossus and negasonic took wade as a trainee in the X Jet to Allegorical Racist/Homophobic And Literal Pedophile Central to... do what, exactly? What was the fucking plan? Because it sure as fuck looks like the plan was to distract him enough to force the Devil May Cry (sorry but I see DMC I either think of the rap duo or the game series) to haul him off to fucking prison to the fucking nth power. Colossus who seems to be the head honcho and sole decision maker of the X Men just stood by and watched until bullets started flying. Was he recruiting? Was he the damage control? Was he the cheap plot moving device whose sole reason for showing up at Essex was to punch Wade out before he killed headmaster touchykids allowing for the hamfisted climax? Clearly if we were to derive any conclusion from this circlejerk we have to assume that not only Colossus but the entirety of the XMansion just don't give a fuck anymore, or that it isn't important to make sense because hey this is a Deadpool movie so fuck you for using logic. Excuse the shit out of me for being confused as to what the fuck actually happened, because if Colossus is willing to let Wade get thrown into prison for killing a pedophile but he's not gonna TAKE ACTUAL LEGAL ACTION AGAINST ESSEX HOUSE FOR TORTURING MUTANT CHILDREN FOR DECADES (Domino admitted to it being the same when she was a kid), either it's just a Public Relations nightmare to not let the Run-DMC haul him off, Essex is a legal powerhouse on the same level as the Westboro Baptist Cult with lawyers up the ass, or they changed a lot of shit from the trailers and cobbled together what they could from what remained (which is the most likely suspect because Bedlam and Shatterstar had scenes in the trailer where they were not dead and were actually fighting with Wade and Domino). Regardless, the scene however dumb and nonsensical was necessary I guess, and established Russell/Firefist as a character. I'm still gonna be pissed about that in particular but HOLY SHIT is that stupid. But that's not all that's stupid. More on that later.

Cable's motivations are grief. His hypocrisy is understandable. Killing kids is wrong so I'm gonna kill a kid so he doesn't kill other kids. Why doesn't Russel deserve life? Because he's a mutant? Wow, Thanos is racist AND mutant-phobic! In all seriousness though, all Cable had to do was nothing to prevent his family's death. If he had stayed in the future, nobody would have broken Russel out so there would be no way in hell he'd have killed the headmaster let alone everyone else he did. Although according to the laws of time travel, the timeline Cable came from was the timeline that he went back in time and did everything exactly the way it happened up until Wade took that bullet for Russel. Because that's the moment the teddy bear lost its bloodstain. Because literally not a goddamn thing changed the course of history up until that exact moment, THAT IS THE EXACT FUCKING MOMENT IT BUTTERFLY EFFECTED ITS WAY TO HELL AND BACK. Cable's dead family is a direct result of him going back in time to kill Russel to save them and failing miserably. And god I love time travel paradoxes UGH I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH. We have to assume Cable failed and that's why he succeeded. THATS SO FUCKING STUPID.

And you know what else is stupid? Wade made it back to New York after breaking out of DMC. How is that stupid? Well, first of all, the facility wasn't looking for THEIR MOST DANGEROUS INMATE. Black Tom said it himself, Wade is the toughest cunt in there. Although Juggernaut is way more powerful but whatever. More on that later. Anyway, the facility got the riot back on lockdown despite Cable decimating most of the staff, and got everyone in line enough to get them to start convoying to the more secure location. Did they see that Wade was missing and decide "hey, fuck it, what can the literally most unkillable man in the world with the most enormous boner for revenge in the universe POSSIBLY do to us who forced him to slowly die of cancer all over again in a hell prison???" Fucking stupid. Even dumber is the actual X Men themselves not giving a shit that there was an attack on the ice box which is apparently Mike Pence's wet dream, not lifting a finger to so much as offer assistance TO ENSURE THE SAFETY AND REHABILITATION OF ALL OF THE MUTANT INMATES, or even so much as being like "hey guys is Wade doing okay dying from cancer in your Guantanamo Bay?". And dumber still than that is Colossus deciding that Wade deserves to slowly die of cancer since he killed a pedophile who abused a kid so bad he used his powers for destruction and murder and evil and eventually became one of the most deadly sociopathic murderers in the fucked up future world, rationalizing it because Wade broke the rules of being an X-man by killing, even though Wade didn't wanna be an X-man in the first place. Colossus dragged Wade from his suicide directly to the X manor to get his body healed, forced him along to a mission he didn't wanna be a part of, and then punished him for killing a pedophile by forcing him to die slowly from the cancer while getting the shit kicked out of him by convicts. AND THEN WADE APOLOGIZED TO COLOSSUS? ARE YOU FUCKING FOR REAL HERE? WADE WAS SUICIDAL AND COLOSSUS FORCED HIM INTO PRISON. Bad friend, 0/10.

Seriously, a queer military vet with ptsd and a fucked up past replete with daddy issues who developed cancer and was then tortured by a shadow organization went on a revenge spree followed by a murder spree as a mercenary, and expressed that he's a violent psychopath who won't hesitate to murder sex traffickers or pedophiles or people who threaten his girl, and watched said girl (the only good thing in his fucked up life) die right in his arms immediately after his life was about to go in a good direction and start a family and probably give up all of the murder business and just be the best dad in the world and give a good life to someone to make up for the one he never got himself, did a cocaine bender, and literally committed suicide. But his godforsaken mutation wouldn't let him die, so he couldn't even see his Vanessa again. He clearly has severe clinical depression and needed a FUCKING MENTAL HOSPITAL STAY, not being shoved into a planless feeble attempt to get him to join the Xmen (using him for an extra hand for missions), and he was allowed to BRING THE GUNS, and he was confronted with a physically and sexually abused CHILD with mutant powers he probably didn't ask for that ruined his life and got him sent to Essex, a BIG KNOWN HOTSPOT FOR PEDOPHILES, and he has a big problem with sex criminals (oh yeah and the girl he loved so much he killed himself when she died? sex worker with a life full of being sexually assaulted herself. let alone the fact that wade has been sexually assaulted as well). You take a queer, mentally ill, suffering man and push him past his breaking point, and let him bring guns to a pedophile nest, HE IS GOING TO KILL THE PEDOPHILES. Colossus is a fucking cunt in this situation in every single conceivable fashion. He dragged Wade out of the frying pan, and out of the fire, and into the fucking woodchipper, before stepping on him. The situation is so far behind fucked up that I don't even think the crew fully grasp the full gravity of the situation described. But I digress.

Things weren't all bad from this point on.

The recruitment was funny and full of people. Dopinder's reaction at Peter was amazing and I love him. Domino was fucking phenomenal and I loved her. I knew that everyone else was dead from the moment I saw them, though, but I still loved them anyway. Brad. fucking. Pitt. Great action scene all around. Josh Brolin is just the baddest of asses. Murphy's law is supreme.

Juggernaut's reveal was well done. Still dumb but not quite "AHM THE JUGGANAUT BITCH" dumb. Cool dumb. And then he Megatron'd Wade which was even cooler. I thought Russell joining him was a little dumb but it was quite a callback. Although it begs the question: Wade knew it was foreshadowing something and he knew that Juggernaut existed but he just isn't omniscient and the inconsistency is driving me fucking bonkers. This isnt the Deadpool of the comics. This is the movie Deadpool. And while I do like it I can't say it's without flaws. That's ok but still annoying as fuck. And then more flaws.

It's stupid that Colossus would react the way he did when he learned Wade was back. Well if Colossus was moping about because an entire convoy of mutants literally fucking died except for Juggernaut (PROFESSOR X'S BROTHER IN THIS CHRONOLOGY) and Russell, that's even dumber. If he learned Wade was back at that moment then he's not even paying attention to anything considering Deadpool was out and about. Negasonic and Yukio didn't look too surprised to see him. Lazy writing, lampshades, whatever, blah blah who even fucking cares.

The heroes show up just in time. Shocking. But of course if they didn't it'd be a boring movie.

The action scene was FANTASTIC. It balanced four different fight scenes all at once. Why Jug didn't rip Cable in half like he did Wade I won't ask, maybe because he's half robot I guess idk. Still, Wade/Cable, Domino, and Colossus kicked ass, and Russell's advance to the headmaster was beastly. Julian's acting wasn't the best and neither was Eddie's but I got what they went for and HOLY SHIT THE SCENE IS SO CHILLING, especially for queer youth. Bryan Singer could only dream of that level of subtle analogues.

I thought it was dumb that Cable was all like "if Russell kills then he'll be an evil monster since killing is wrong" even though literally every one of the people there have killed several people that fucking day. Cable killed many, Wade killed many, Domino killed many. Granted they killed mostly pedophiles but they also killed a lot of DMC people & innocent civilians (accidentally). But again he was grieving so whatever.

Negasonic and Yukio had their moment too, I just wish there was more. But that's what the threequel is for. WE WANT MORE LESBIANS!

Wade has balls, I'll give him that. Where he kept that power nullifier I'll never know. [also... fuck that noise. they just have a collar that turns off mutant powers? ORORO WILL HAVE A FUCKIN ANEURYSM. and marie will have an orgasm. for once in her life. hahaha references]. But it was still a great scene. Russell is actually a really good character, if he is a bit Woobie, Destroyer Of Worlds. But I like that trope. Simon from Cry of Fear is one of my favorite characters in that respect; sympathetic even to the very end if he kills Purnell and Sophie (god that monologue is so haunting... "have fun cleaning my brains off the wall. FUCK YOU."). He's basically just a mini Wade but a mutant first. And it allowed Wade to have a defining character moment.

And what a moment. There's a quote that was said about The Princess Bride that I feel works here. It was about the Inigo fight with Rugen. "A comedy is only as strong as the moment when it stops being funny." And the moment when Inigo stabs Rugen, and says "I want my father back, you son of a bitch." is just permanently etched in my mind because the entire movie you watch with a smile up until right at that moment. And when Wade finally bites it, you think "oh, he'll just wake up again and make another joke" but he doesn't. He doesn't move again. He shows up on death's door. And you hear the acoustic version of Take On Me. And he walks through the fog door, and he's got his skin back. He did it, he's finally reunited with Vanessa. And Cable looks away, and you start to piece together where they're going with it, and he goes back, and you wonder wtf is this, and it returns to the present day and Wade digs in the wound AND PULLS OUT THE SKEE BALL TOKEN HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS OH MY GOD THATS THE COOLEST SHIT IVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK.

THE ENTIRE ENDING SCENE IS SO ICONIC.

And the whipped cream on top of the sundae is the headmaster getting creamed in the middle of his tirade. And then Dopinder's reaction is the cherry.

After that it kinda does the sappy ending which is fine for what it is. And then it brings in all the fourth wall breaking time travel shenanigans, drenching it in sap and Ryan Reynolds' brains.

The music is just OH MY GOD amazing. Yeah there's the pina colada song and skrillex and celine dion and ac/dc and enya and pat benatar and peter gabriel and cher and steve miller and for some reason diplo/french montana/lil pump but THOSE ARE ALL ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD OKAY???

The movie is chock full of amazing lines.

The fights are all really fluid and visceral.

The cinematography is always on point.

The plot formula is shaken up a little bit.

Several pedophiles die incredibly violently.

ITS A REALLY GREAT MOVIE, FOR REAL.

I'd literally say it's better than the first one.

All of the plot contrivances in the first half are negligible and are barely even problems unless you overanalyze them too much. Like I do.

And I also watched all of the extras... Celine Dion is such a good sport, really, and honestly kind of a dork and super endearing and I love her honestly and think she caught too much flak for being a) a woman b) popular c) in the worst 'romance' movie ever made tifuckintanic god I hate that movie so much despite loving kate winslett, leonardo dicaprio, and james cameron as much as I really loathe to admit it. And Ashes is a really good song.

And I never thought I'd say this but... Lil Pump has really nice flow. I really kinda hope he isn't the dead one. I despise French Montana but I love Sia and by extension Diplo (because LSD), and the song they did for the movie was... bad. But I'll probably be checking out Lil Pump soon.

And anyway the winter solstice mtv unplugged acoustic version of take on me? Beautiful.

I enjoyed this movie a lot, despite the nitpicks.

Thank you Canada. 🇨🇦

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snarktheater · 6 years

Text

Ready Player One — Level Three (Chapters 32-33)

After our brief foray into a heist story that tied itself up really neatly and really fast, Wade now has a bunch of stolen data and a foolproof plan to…get past IOI’s defense on Castle Anorak and get to the Third Gate.

Because, you know. Real-life mortal danger is just not interesting enough stakes for the book. We gotta go back to the video game contest. That’s what matters.

We left Wade when he was setting up a meeting with the other three main characters of this book, and he explains to them everything that happened to him since he went dark. And by “explains” I mean of course he makes himself sound much better than he was.

“How does a lowly indent get access to secret Sixer dossier files and company memos?” I turned to face her. “Indents have limited access to the company intranet via their hab-unit entertainment system, from behind the IOI firewall. From there, I was able to use a series of back doors and system exploits left by the original programmers to tunnel through the network and hack directly into the Sixers' private database.” Shoto looked at me in awe. “You did that? All by yourself?” “That is correct, sir.”

You know, all by himself, with information he bought and doing nothing but follow instructions. Same difference, I assume.

But that’s apparently enough for the others. They thank him for the warnings, although Artemis is also angry that he read her file—as she should be, since that information was really private and also it did not help one bit. Wade does not experience a shred of regret, though.

So, what is the plan, you ask? Well, keep asking, because instead of telling them, Wade just moves on to taking it for granted that they will make it past the Sixers and straight to how to open the Third Gate. By which I mean the gate is inscribed with a reference to Schoolhouse Rock! that the Sixers missed and our protagonist immediately catch because they’re oh-so-awesome. Since “showing the puzzle and immediately giving the solution” has been the book’s modus operandi from the start…I guess at least this time it didn’t rely on a random epiphany and the characters really showed off that they knew their stuff.

I will draw attention to this, from Wade’s recap of what IOI has tried:

“They try every asinine thing you can imagine,” I said. […] “Then they get hung up on reciting First Corinthians 13:13, a Bible verse that contains the words ‘charity, hope, and faith.’ Apparently, ‘charity, hope, and faith’ are also the names of three martyred Catholic saints. The Sixers have been trying to attach some significance to that for the past few days.” “Morons,” Aech said. “Halliday was an atheist.”

Which is kind of baffling to me. I mean…what, atheists can’t use religious symbology ever? Especially Christian symbolism, like…Halliday was probably bathed in it his whole life.

With that said…this mostly makes IOI look like idiots. Which I think is the point?

“Dilettantes,” Art3mis said. “It’s their own fault for not knowing all the Schoolhouse Rock! lyrics by heart.”

Sadly, it also makes them very ineffectual as villains. Do you realize how simple it’d be to do a word search across all the lyrics, books and scripts for things featured in the Almanac? At least for a company with the means that IOI has at its disposal?

Well anyway. The song reveals that there needs to be three people to open the Third Gate, which had already been hinted at by the clue Wade found while searching for the key. This also means that, once they open the gate, they’ll have to race to get to the egg first. Because I’m so stressed about which of these assholes win the egg. I mean we don’t even know Aech and Shoto’s goals and I still don’t want them to win.

Of course, there is one missing step in this plan. Wade obviously figured out a way to disable the Sixers' shield during his time at IOI, and they now know how to open the Third Gate, but they still have to actually get from point A to point B through the Sixer forces. What’s Wade’s solution for that? Just contact every gunter in the OASIS and ask them to play meat shield.

“And you really think everyone will just show up and help us fight the Sixers?” [Artemis] said. “Just for the hell of it?” “Yes,” I said. “I do.” Aech nodded. “He’s right. No one wants the Sixers to win the contest. And they definitely don’t want IOI to take control of the OASIS.”

“No one”? Really? I find that dubious. Or rather, I find it dubious that they’d willingly kill their OASIS character on the off-chance it might make the Sixers lose…but make these complete strangers win instead. Complete strangers who, in the case of Artemis and Wade at least, decided to use their new position of fame and fortune by…remaining anonymous, making no actual stand against the Sixers, and holing themselves up in a stronghold and refusing to even talk to people.

But of course, we’re just supposed to accept that the people will like them more, for…some reason. And really, wouldn’t it be great if, say, Aech was actually Sorrento playing both sides? (He’s not. But it’d be a hell of a twist compared to what the twist around Aech’s identity actually is.)

This plan also means IOI will know exactly when they’ll strike, which will put them on high alert. And they need three people with the Crystal Key to make it through, lest you forgot.

“So we should all try extremely hard not to get killed.”

A master strategist you are not, Wade Watts. As usual, the only character with a shred of humanity is Artemis.

“So I hope you’re right about being able to shut [the shield] down.” “Don’t worry.” “Why would I be worried?” Art3mis snapped. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m homeless and on the run for my life right now!”

Artemis, you can’t show genuine emotion in this book! That’ll just make Wade look even more like he’s not human!

Speaking of Artemis being currently homeless, this is true of three of them (her, Shoto and Wade), which might be kind of a problem to participate in a large-scale assault on an in-game stronghold, followed by who knows what kind of challenge the Third Gate itself will be. Well, don’t worry, we’ve got a near-literal Deus Ex Machine to solve that problem!

Yeah, remember how, early in the book, Wade noticed someone knocking stuff in the Basement and wondering if it was an invisible player? Well, that’s what it was. Specifically it’s Ogden Morrow, who, along with Halliday, has literal god mode turned on in the OASIS.

“In addition to being immortal and invincible, our avatars could go pretty much anywhere and do pretty much anything.”

He’s been spying on them all this time, and he makes himself visible now to offer a hand. Turns out, he and Halliday reconnected shortly before his death, and Halliday asked him to watch over the contest and maintain its integrity. Apparently, everything IOI has done (blocking off multiple critical areas, for instance) did not violate said integrity? But now, he’s offering to get private jets for all four mains to his private home, where they’ll be able to log into the OASIS safely and, you know, be safe from IOI trying to kill them IRL. When I told you the book wasn’t interested in the real-world threat, I wasn’t joking. It just removed what should be the actual conflict in favor of the in-game contest.

No one is even a little suspicious of that, by the way. At all. They just take Morrow’s offer at face value and accept it, with Aech having to pick up Wade and get him to the airport, since even Morrow can’t track Aech down. The fact that the possibility isn’t even brought up, after everything these characters have gone through (and their initial distrust of each other) really bothers me, because I have half-expected Morrow to turn out to be the true villain after all since we first saw him in the book, but…no, he’s fine.

And this is where I pause the review to go back to my earliest posts, and how this book doesn’t care or think critically about the dystopia it created. Because Morrow…you know, isn’t much better than IOI, ultimately. They’re all beneficiaries of capitalism; in other words, their massive wealth depends on the existence of the widespread poverty that Wade has observed and experienced. But Morrow is a cool nerd, and he’s done some cool things like educational games, so he gets a pass, I guess?

Yeah. No. Remember how Artemis wants to solve world hunger if she wins the contest? Morrow could do that right now. Or he could at the very least heavily contribute to that. That he hasn’t should make him a natural villain for the story, or at the very least a morally grey figure—the heroes need his help, but don’t appreciate him. But the book doesn’t care about its setting; it’s a dystopia because dystopias are cool, I guess, not because it’s trying to make a point about them. The book’s real interest is the OASIS, and the real world could just as easily be a utopia and it would change very little.

Except…actually, it does change one thing, by implication. See, if the book doesn’t want to be a dystopia, and only cares about the OASIS, then that means the dystopia probably exists to justify that the OASIS exists and is as popular as it is. In other words: the book itself doesn’t believe that anyone could be this involved in a video game, or fandom, unless they were driven to it by desperation and misery. This one thing means the book has a lower opinion of geek culture than…well, myself, at the very least. I’d even argue it’s lower than the mainstream opinion of geek culture at the moment, considering in the 2010s, culture has been dominated by things like Comic-Con and superhero movie. For a book that’s hailed as being for geek culture, is pretty odd that it can’t seem to imagine that people like things without needing a justification.

And if you think I’m pulling this reading straight out of my ass: it would not invalidate it if I did, because that’s how art criticism works, but in this case, it’s also absolutely in the text and we’ll get back to that in the final post of this review. Stay tuned for that exciting conclusion!

Back to the plot. Wade sends out his message to all gunters, and posts it on “every gunter message board”, because that’s how fandom works, I guess. Word spreads, and the media starts reporting on that and Wade’s allegations towards IOI, and Wade feels petty satisfaction.

By now, Sorrento would know I’d somehow gained access to the Sixers' private database. I wished I could see his face when he learned how I’d done it—that I’d spent an entire week just a few floors below his office.

You know what would be a great twist? If they traced the security footage and the digital footprint that Wade must have left to figure out what his plan is and counter it. But that would mean Wade failed at something due to his own hubris, and that would mean he faces consequences for his flaws, so let’s not even pretend it’s a possibility and just skip to when Aech arrives to pick him up instead.

A heavyset African American girl sat in the RV’s driver seat, clutching the wheel tightly and staring straight ahead. She was about my age, with short, kinky hair and chocolate-colored skin that appeared iridescent in the soft glow of the dashboard indicators.

Well that’s not a problematic description at all. I mean, that’s multiple descriptors with racist connotations. Oh, and don’t forget that Wade and Cline both claim to like bigger girls, yet Aech gets described as “heavyset”. I guess only white girls get to be “Rubenesque”. [Disclaimer: I personally find both to be pretty insulting, but the difference is definitely there.]

He recognizes that this is actually Aech because she smiles like her avatar does. And then, miracle of all miracles, Wade feels an emotion. Namely, betrayal. He gets over it quickly though, because emotions are icky.

Whatever anger or betrayal I felt quickly evaporated. I couldn’t help myself. I started to laugh. There was no meanness in it, and I knew she could tell that, because her shoulders relaxed a bit and she let out a relieved sigh.

So Wade is totally a-okay with Aech being actually a black girl. How progressive of him, I guess. Aech insists on explaining to him why her character is male, because that’s another thing the book believes warrants explaining. As someone who played female characters in online games for at least half of my gaming life, I find that half amusing and half insulting, but let’s be honest, in this case, it’s just that the author thought of this character’s backstory and wanted to infodump all over us, and couldn’t think of a more natural way to do so.

So Aech, real name Helen Harris, was raised by a single mother too. Her mom realized that sexism is a thing, but since most things are done through the OASIS, she could escape it by using a white male avatar, and she taught her daughter to do the same. Also, Helen/Aech is a lesbian, which is completely irrelevant, except that her mom kicked her out as a result and that’s why she now lives in an RV and always stays on the move.

Aside from the confirmation that homophobia is alive and well in the future (beyond the casual brand displayed throughout the book up to this point, which I could have chalked up as the author’s unconscious biases), I will note that Aech’s most remarkable trait—how she avoided discovery by literally everyone, including IOI and Morrow—is a result of homophobic abuse. So I guess she should be thankful for her mom kicking her out, lest she would have been killed by IOI? That’s a good unintentional message right there, book.

As we continued to talk, going through the motions of getting to know each other, I realized that we already did know each other, as well as any two people could. We’d known each other for years, in the most intimate way possible. […] None of that had changed, or could be changed by anything as inconsequential as her gender, or skin color, or sexual orientation.

This is the straightest thing Wade or the author could conclude from this. Look, let me be clear: if a person is closeted to you, you are not intimate with them. You are not close friends. Because if you were, they would trust you enough to come out to you. If they don’t trust you enough to come out, either you’re just not that close, or they actually suspect that your reaction would be bigoted and potentially dangerous, in which case you are absolutely not their friend (or a good person). It is literally that simple.

Yes, I know what the book’s message actually is here. We’re all just human, and these things shouldn’t be obstacles to relating to one another and being friends. The problem is it’s phrase as “these things shouldn’t matter”, which isn’t the same as “these things shouldn’t be obstacles”. Because they do matter. They would matter no matter how the world is, but especially in a sexist, racist, homophobic world, they matter. This is why saying you’re “colorblind” or “don’t see race”, or that people’s sexuality “doesn’t matter to you”, is not actually comforting. Identity, believe it or not, is a part of who the person is; if it doesn’t matter to you, and only, say, their interests do, then you’re not really friends with the person as a whole.

I’m just getting all the rants today, aren’t I?

Well, to be fair, the actual plot is pretty sparse. I mean, nothing happens on the road to the airport, or on the flight to Ogden Morrow’s home (whom the book now calls “Og”, because it’s the name of his avatar and I guess real names aren’t for cool people). Said home is shaped like Rivendell from the Lord of the Rings movies—is that interesting? No, no it’s not. Is it interesting that Artemis and Shoto are already here, but decided not to meet in person until after the contest is over, because why would we want an opportunity for character development? Well, I guess it’s interesting, but only in that it’s bad.

So let’s just move on to Wade getting into his immersion rig, and asking Morrow a fairly random question before he logs back into the OASIS.

“I wanted to ask what it was that ended your friendship with Halliday. […] What happened?”

Well, turns out Halliday was in love with Kira too. I know, shocking, he was in love with the one girl in his nerd group. Although, considering we’ve been told he’d only talk to her in-character as their D&D avatars, I think he was more in love with the idea of her than the real person. But hey, this book is literally making the argument that your in-game avatar is realer than the real you. I mean, Wade reverts to calling Helen “Aech” and referring to her as a man for the rest of the book after this one scene where they meet in person. I shit you not.

Literally nothing prompted this question, by the way. Wade just asked out of the blue. So you can already guess that the information is going to come up soon. Or you can just take my word for it that it will.

“Good luck, Parzival. You’re going to need it.” “What are you going to do?” I asked. “During the fight?” “Sit back and watch, of course!” [Morrow] said. “This looks to be the most epic battle in videogame history.”

Aren’t you gonna…you know, help? Why even introduce a character with godlike powers if he’s going to do nothing with them?

And with that, Wade logs into the OASIS to start the climax, and we get a dramatic chapter break. Because I’m so very scared that Wade might not win the contest. Yeah. Totally.

#ready player one #ernest cline #book reviews #ya books #young adult #books #young adult books #ya #reviews #book #book review #review #st: ready player one

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fictionerd · 6 years

Text

Good to see you, friends!

“WHAT’S THIS!? This isn’t Uma Musume! Fictionerd! Explain yourself!”

Well. I watched this week’s Uma Musume and as I did I had this sinking sensation. The episode didn’t really move me to dig in depth into it the way I have my other long-form posts. So I instead went to watch this week’s episode of Caligula and scrape my scales and call me Seath if it wasn’t about a thousand times better. So let’s all take a deep dive into Episode six of Caligula.

WARNING! I ENGAGE IN A LOT OF SPECULATION THAT MAY BE OFF THE MARK. I REPEAT A COUPLE TIMES IN THE POST BELOW, BUT LET’S GO AHEAD AND GET IT RIGHT OUT FRONT! PLEASE NO SPOILERS FOR THE STORY MOVING FORWARD FROM THOSE WHO’VE PLAYED THE GAME(S). THANK YOU.

We open on Mu preparing the first song of the night aimed at activating the digi-heads and allowing the Musicians to combat the rogues. We get an inkling of how she’s being manipulated by this Thorn character. Her Utopia has been hijacked by the musicians who seem intent upon living within their own delusions for all eternity.

We then get a series of quick establishing scenes showing the various characters and the situations they open in. Ritsu, Kotaro, and Kotono are still at the weird water-world place facing down Dom lady. Mifue and Naruko are where we left them last episode: with the first fake mom Mifue had in Mobius. Suzuna has run into newcomer Izuru and together they are cornered by another of the Musicians who has watched too many action movies and dual-wields massive sub-machine guns. Shogo just barely escapes the digi-heads by ducking into an elevator. We get a brief flash of what appears to be a girl jumping off a building before the elevator stops to reveal the white-haired speaker kid from the first episode. It seems like everyone who’s noticed the world is the matrix is in deep trouble.

After the OP we jump right back into the action with Kotono using her Catharsis effect to fight Dom Lady. The results are lack-luster with Dom flat-out batting away every arrow Kotono throws at her, even when she throws up to four at a time. They take a break from fighting to compare Mobius to an aquarium. Kotono’s all like, “This whole place is fake. I want my real crappy life back!” Dom lady snorts and says, “You’re a moron. Why would you want that sucky real world where you have to work for stuff when you could just stay here and let Mu brainwash you into thinking everything is absolutely perfect?”

I don’t know about Kotono, but my immediate response would be something along the lines of: “Because living in a world where everything is just handed to you is completely asinine, and would lead to the sort of stagnation you normally only get from full-on clinical depression.”

Enough of that scene, though, let’s catch up with Mifue and Naruko. They try calling Shogo to no avail. Sorry, ladies, he’s found himself in a situation he can’t just “cut” out of. You know how it is. You run into an acquaintance from school and they just demand you “Shoot the shit” with them. (I brought up his scene early just to make those puns and I’m not sorry).

Crazy, Pixie Dude shows up and is all like, “Hey you two. Since you know my secret identity I’m going to shame you for your own petty sorrows. Glasses-chick wants to be internet-famous and blandy hates fat people, right? Ooh I do love touching nerves. What you mad? Too bad you can do jack all about it!”

I have serious concerns about the directions they might take this guy in because of the whole “overweight dude living as a cute girl thing”. That’s one fucking minefield of a subject matter that I’d prefer to avoid until and unless we learn more about why he went with that. Depending on how it shakes out there could be some serious problems there. (Oh who am I kidding? There’s going to be serious problems with that character regardless.)

Once more I feel the need to alert those who’ve played the games ahead of time: NO SPOILERS PLEASE. I don’t CARE how the game handled it, because I’m watching the anime.

Okay! Enough of that aside: Back to the fight between Kotono and Dom. They basically continue their conversation from before and Kotono’s ranged attacks continue to be largely ineffectual. I’ve gotta say she seems to have gotten the “Shaft” on this particular matchup. (Jesus why am I doing this?)

Kotaro tries to get Aria to Cathars him up some beatin sticks, but she’s all like. “Sorry, bro, you’ve not got enough edge to work with.” Ritsu, realizing that they’re basically dead weight advises him to run and he’s all like, “But why?”

“Because they keep damaging those tanks and I don’t want to drown, That’s Why!” So they do and then we cut to the source of my puns from before where Crazy-eyes White-hair is trying to make several points to Shogo all at once with what appears to less be a sword and more a collection of random serrations. Fortunately Shogo’s Dirty Harry special is a functional parrying weapon, but his stance is basically shit so he keeps getting thrown around.

I’m seriously confused as to why he’s suddenly at such a disadvantage. Isn’t he somewhat experienced at this? Shouldn’t he at least be able to keep his footing?

Whatever, We jump back to Thorn and Mu who kinda snaps out of a trance.

“Girl whose name is not at all suspicious, why does it feel like the people I brought to my stately pleasure dome are all in pain and anguish?” “We call it tough love.” “Okay then, if you say so.”

And we move on. Wannabe Action Star has cornered Suzuna and Izuru and tries to be all intimidating just to strike out horribly and make Izuru look badass for just staring the punk down as a bullet grazes his cheek. (I’m assuming he got better build up to his introduction in the game. That or I just didn’t notice him in the insanity that were the opening episodes of the series.

At this point the various scenes from around Mobius start to converge in their tone. It’s essentially -

Musicians: This world is perfect! We don’t have to worry about things being hard or frustrating ever again! Rogues: That’s just running away. Sure I may regret this decision later, but I’d rather take a chance at having something real than play pretend forever! Musicians: It’s not pretend so long as we stay here it’s all real! RAAAR

The reason we see the scenes basically bleed together is because Aria is suddenly getting a serious mainline of feels from all the protagonists. She hovers up into the air and begins to glow with an awesome power. “I can feel it! Everyone’s Existential Angst is flowing into me. OH NO!”

And she gets pwned by the shockwave off Dom-lady’s mace. Kotaro runs over to her. We see Mu realizing her friend is still around, but that’s over fast. Then Kotaro picks Aria up and gets teary-eyed, Presumably out of fear that he’ll never get to see what she looks like as a human-proportioned Vocaloid rather than a chibi. Dom calls him a weakling and he’s like, “No I’m not [emphatic pause] Yes I am.” [Sob] Then a few not-so-manly tears fall down his cheeks and splash onto Aria who’s all like, “NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL EDGE!”

She turns into an orange star of “Battle Them” and everyone follows the light while internally screaming in anguish. Aria bundles up all those Feels and everyone but Ritsu undergoes the Catharsis transformation at once. The sudden realization that so many people didn’t like playing in her doll house makes Mu’s record skip before she, too, gives in to the edge. With ten minutes left in the episode we get our title card and all the protags are like, “Sweet threads! Thanks, Aria, now we can whoop some ass.”

And that’s exactly what they do. Maybe I’m just spoiled from watching Megalo Box last night, but up until this point I didn’t think the fighting in this had been much to write home about, but the big battle at the end between the Rogues and the Musicians was pretty cool. I sort of want to skip to the end at this point, but there’s something I need to touch on first. Remember when I mentioned Shogo’s Elevator flashback? The main reason I remember it is because when he’s asked why he wants to go back to the real world so bad he says “Because I’m a Murderer.”

Again No Spoilers! but I can’t help suspecting that he’s blaming himself for something he didn’t have much power to stop. Okay, subject addressed back to the fight.

Ritsu’s the only one who hasn’t impaled himself on his feels, and he’s struggling with this whole “Determination to keep fighting” thing. Everyone around him doesn’t just want to go home, they’re fighting for it. Just as he’s wondering what exactly he is and what he could have to fight for Mu descends from the heavens. She’s basically having a mental breakdown because she doesn’t understand why everyone won’t just let her make them happy. She’s taken all their pain and suffering and made them her problem. That sort of Empathy and desire to help others is admirable, but she’s handling it in the absolute wrong way. She’s trying to help them forget about their pains rather than face them. She’s basically gotten to the point where she’s angry at them for not being grateful for what she’s done. She doesn’t realize that she’s ultimately done more harm than good.

When she just LOSES IT! Words don’t suffice. It needs to be WATCHED.

So she starts overflowing with all the negative emotions she’s been taking from everyone and bottling up inside herself. She can’t hold back and has to lash out. Ritsu sees this, but not I think as the threat everyone else might see it as. He sees the pain that Mu’s in. He sees how misguided and delusional her quest is, and this gives him his motivation. He’s going to stand against Mobius, not for himself, but for her sake. Maintaining Mobius is obviously doing just as much harm to Mu as it is to everyone she’s keeping brainwashed.

So Ritsu fires a massive FEELS BEAM at the giant ball of EDGE Mu has accumulated and seemingly dissipates it. As Thorn flies(?) off with Mu in her arms Mu calls Ritsu a Jerk.

Post-credits scene all the Rogues decide to team up and officially name themselves the “Go-Home Club”. (Which honestly is probably the best and worst pun of them all).

Question! How the heck are you supposed to use club activities to “hide” what you’re doing? The Musicians know who you all are already! What are you worried about sucking other people in? Why?

Ugh, I guess I’ll find out as things go on. Now, if you’ll excuse me, this post may be late getting to bed, but so am I. Hopefully the next two days of playing catch-up will go smoother than this.

Until next post, keep talking fiction, friends! I’ll see you soon.

#Anime #Caligula #Episode 6 #Fictionerd #Let's Talk Anime

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