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outerbankies · 4 years ago

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new light part 4: underneath the moonlight — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: you and rafe meet the parents (properly) and go to midsummers together, but not everyone is as smitten with your relationship as you two are.

pairing: rafe x kook reader

warnings: drinking, swearing

a/n: say hello to a few characters (tw: ward) i have had yet to feature thus far 🤗 more of y/n being besties with kelce (and topper this time—our fave obx himbo) there’s a lil drama in this part y’all... into the thick of it. thanks for all the feedback 💖not canon rafe

my writing

yeah if you give me just one night, to meet you underneath the moonlight

You’re startled awake by a loud knock on your bedroom door. You’re squished between 6 feet and 3 inches worth of boy and the pink wall your bed is pushed up against. Rafe always insisted on laying on your outer side, closest to the door of your bedroom. Which means you often woke up pressed into the wall, your neck sometimes aching from the awkward angle. Not to mention Wilbur always taking up the space at your feet, Rafe usually nudging him into your space so he could stretch out.

Rafe stirs also, making sleepy noises and stretching his legs where they hang off the end of your bed. He grumbles and smacks his lips together a few times, your hand instinctively coming to rub along his jaw. His eyes flutter open as the sun streams in through your window, illuminating the hint of golden stubble on his chin. You’d only slept over together a few times, since you were both staying with your parents for the summer, so it’s always nice to wake up with your boy in your bed.

Oh fuck. Your boy is in your bed.

Rafe's eyes widen at the same time as yours.

“Oh shit, we fell asleep?” he whispers, head whipping around your room.

“Fuck, you have to hide right now,” you whisper, stumbling through your thoughts sleepily.

Another knock sounds from the door.

You extract yourself from your spot between Rafe and the wall, his hands guiding you by your hips as you tumble over him.

“Just, fuck, just like—get under the covers or something. God, I hope it’s not my dad,” you whisper.

“Me too,” he says, slinking into the gap between your bed and the wall as best he can, covering his face with a pillow.

You check that he’s concealed enough, turning to open the door just the slightest bit. Dylan stands in the crack.

“We have brunch at the Club in an hour, mom wanted me to ask if you invited Rafe,” he peers around you, gaze moving to behind your shoulder. “Or I could just ask him myself. Sup, Rafe?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dyl,” you whisper-shout. “Where are mom and dad? Can he sneak out the back? And don’t lie to me, or I’ll tell them about Hilton Head.”

“God, calm down. Dad’s in the garage and mom’s getting ready. Just have him go now.”

“Thanks,” you say, all but slamming the door in his face. You turn around and press your back against the door, letting out a shaky breath.

The covers rustle, and Rafe springs out of your bed to gather his things while Wilbur watches him. He always starts pouting when he notices that Rafe is putting on his hat or shoes, signs that he’s about to leave.

“We are so dead.”

“You don’t think he’ll say anything, do you? I don’t think I can sit at brunch with your dad in an hour if he knows I slept in your bed last night.”

“Not if he’s smart,” you sigh. “Want me to walk you out?”

“No, I got it. Just keep Willy in here. I’ll text you when I make it out alive. If you don’t hear from me, just assume your father murdered me,” he jokes, leaning down to give you a kiss after he slips his shoes on. “See you back here in an hour?”

“Yes, please be early. And clean shaven.”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t insult me,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Nervous?”

“Not nearly as nervous as I will be if I get caught, sweetheart. Gotta go so I have time to shower—and shave. See you in a bit.”

He gives you one last kiss before he departs, and you move to the window with Wilbur to watch him slink across the backyard, arms crossed and a fond grin on your face. He turns and blows you one last kiss before he disappears around the side of your house.

—

“Y/n, can I speak to you for a second?”

Your dad’s voice comes from his study as you pass by, checking yourself over in the entryway mirror one more time. Rafe should be here any minute.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Come sit,” he says, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. You feel the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Your dad only invited you to talk in his study if it was something serious. The last time he did was when he told you he was going to take away your Range Rover if you didn’t pull your Bs up to As your freshman year of college. You’ve had a 4.0 ever since.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just wanted to talk about the new boyfriend.”

“What about him?”

“I always knew of him while the two of you were growing up. But I talked to him a bit back during Dylan’s grad week.”

As an unruly teenager and the rightful heir to his father's business, everyone in the Outer Banks knew about Rafe and his antics. Good or bad. You could even recall your mom gossiping to your dad, words passed on from Rose, about some of his more... notable incidences.

“Y-yeah, he's...” you trail off, searching for the right words to describe Rafe these days.

“Seems like a good kid,” your dad supplies.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Business, mostly. His future and whatnot.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No, I just wonder... are you sure about this one? When you were kids, that boy was always causing trouble. And you know your mother and I were always so proud of how you stayed in line.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But Rafe’s not a boy anymore. Just give him a chance.”

“I will,” your dad says, slapping his knees to stand up. “But I'm also gonna give him a hard time.”

“Dad, please.”

“It’s my job. Your mom gets to freak out about Dylan moving out, and I get to handle scaring every man who gets to look at you.”

The doorbell rings.

“Please. I am literally begging.”

Your dad draws a fake halo around his head, and you just roll your eyes.

The morning gets off to an even more embarrassing start as soon as Rafe crosses the threshold into your house. Wilbur jumps into his arms immediately, all ninety pounds of him, and your mom’s eyes widen.

“My goodness, he’s usually so hesitant around strangers!”

Dylan chokes on a laugh, and if you weren’t across the room you’d have elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, I’ve walked Wilbur by Tanneyhill before.”

“Yeah, I-I love Willy. Mrs. Y/l/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Rafe says, effortlessly following your lead after Wilbur scampers out of his hold. He shakes your mom’s hand politely. Your dad sidles up to her then, fixing Rafe with a stare harder than you’d prefer. “Mr. Y/l/n, you as well. Thanks again, to both of you, for inviting me.”

“Good to see you, Rafe,” your dad says, a strong hand clamping onto his shoulder. “Dylan, come say hi.”

Dylan’s grin is devilish, and you're just watching on in pure horror at this point. “How have you been, Rafe? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

—

Rafe’s grinning ear to ear, hand firm on your thigh, all of the windows in his truck rolled down. He even popped the sun roof, letting you blast your playlist all the way down the road.

“Okay—I just... did that go well?”

“You did great, Rafe.”

Despite Dylan's best efforts to embarrass you two, brunch had gone really well. Your dad took a second to let his guard down, unlike your mother who was immediately gushing over him. You could practically see the wheels in her head turning, the wedding colors she'd picked for you. And your dad came around quick enough once Rafe brought up Formula 1.

Your boyfriend looks so relieved, hand even coming to feel the air pass through his fingers as he hangs his arm out the window, hand on your thigh coming back up to steady the wheel. He taps on it excitedly.

“Lowkey, feel like I nailed it, baby.”

“Okay,” you giggle, leaning over to peck his check. You pull him in with a soft hand to the other side of his face. “Let’s not get too big for our britches.”

“Oh, I’m a parent-meeting expert now. Might go into consulting.”

“You’ve perfected the sport?” you joke.

“No, no. That’s—I’ve never actually met parents before,” he admits.

“No way?”

“Way? Have you?” he asks, slight edge seeping into his tone as he pulls up to the stoplight outside of your favorite coffee spot.

“Uh... once. We weren’t even really dating yet, but they came to visit and he like, ambushed me with them at dinner. They were kinda hippies, though.”

“Yeah?” His tone is clipped as he parks his truck.

“Yeah, some guy from my comparative literature class sophomore year,” you sigh. “But, you’re the first to meet my parents.”

“Mm,” he hums, fingers tapping on your knee. That satisfies him. He gathers one of your hands in his. “You coming in?”

“Will you just get me a latte? Kinda wanna call my mom and debrief.”

He laughs, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll give you a minute, sweetheart. Oat milk?”

—

Your original plans to meet the Camerons fell through, a last minute staging emergency arising when you were all supposed to go for dinner. You’d tried not to look down while Rafe attempted in earnest to cheer you up, telling you how pretty you looked while you took out your earrings and let your hair down. He'd kissed the crown of your hair and apologized profusely, promising they would love you when they finally got to meet you.

“M’not upset.”

“Okay.” His hand stroked your back through the thick cotton of one of his old water polo sweatshirts he’d let you borrow for the night.

“I’m just really nervous about meeting them. You might’ve set the bar a little too high with my parents.”

“You just have a great family.”

“I don’t know,” you said when you finally cracked a smile. “Made it pretty far on your first try.”

“Don’t worry. They’re going to love you, sweetheart.”

You let him kiss your cheek, your forehead, your nose and chin.

“Hope so.”

“Know so.”

And Rafe had somehow convinced your father to let you go to Midsummers with his family, promising to join up for pictures and greetings later. Your dad had willingly let him, to your surprise.

The event was a big deal to Figure 8 patriarchs and matriarchs alike, always trying to outdo the other in every way, all while feigning some sense of island camaraderie. But when Rafe had set aside time at brunch to specifically ask your family for their permission to accompany you to the event, they’d been hard pressed to say no. Your family immediately accepted Rafe as your boyfriend, any lingering hesitations about his character drowned out by the equal chances of your personal happiness and the heightening of their social and business profiles.

But he’d still come to your house to pick you up, ready to greet your parents in the foyer once again.

He takes one look at you in that blush pink dress, hair, makeup and jewelry all done up this time around, daisy flower crown in place, and flicks his eyes around his surroundings. Your father and Dylan were nowhere in sight, and your mother was busy fixing her earrings in the hall. He takes to your side immediately, a kiss to the side of your head followed by his lips pressing against your ear. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

With the high from those words, you ride in his truck to Midsummers, nerves never dissipating no matter how many reassurances he speaks across the summer air streaming in through the vehicle. “Remember, they’re gonna love you.”

He helps you down from his truck so you can focus on keeping your dress off the ground, assuring you for the fiftieth time that Rose is going to like your headpiece.

“Miss Y/l/n, how lovely to see you again you at last,” Ward sighs, sounding somewhat fond. “Rafe’s been talking my ear off about this, meeting you again even though we’ve already met. Sorry we couldn’t make it work earlier.”

“No worries, Mr. Cameron. Thank you so much for inviting me to tag along with your family at Midsummers. You as well, Mrs. Cameron. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you! And of course,” Rose says, bringing you in for a hug, one you definitely were not expecting.“You’re out in California, aren’t you?”

“Yes, home for the summer.”

“That’s a long way from here,” Ward says. His eyes flicker to Rafe. “Long way from Georgia. Shorter, but still a long way.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Rafe cuts in, and you can feel his hand gripping the back of your dress:

“He’s just stating the obvious, Rafe,” Rose intervenes.

“Yeah, it is far,” you agree. Rafe’s head whips around back to you.

“We’re figuring it out,” he says. To anyone else in the vicinity, he probably sounds confident and self assured. But you know Rafe, and you can look into his eyes and see that he’s not. That if he weren’t in front of his entire family, trying earnestly to impress his father, he’d have said: ‘we’re gonna figure it out, right?’

“I’m sure things will work out the way they’re meant to,” Ward says after a lapse in conversation. “One way or another.”

“Let’s get some photos so we can all enter and the two of you can run off,” Rose says immediately after, giving neither of you the time to say anything else.

You do your best to shake off Ward’s comment as the four of you join up with the Cameron daughters, plus Sarah’s boyfriend, John B. After posing for what felt like hours, the photographer asks you and John B to hop out so they can take some family pictures, the two of you swiping up a couple of Old Fashioneds from the bar. You have to assure Rafe twice that you’ll be okay for ten minutes on your own.

“First time meeting Ward?” Sarah’s boyfriend asks, leaned up against the bar like he owns the place.

“Er—of course not,” you say, like it’s obvious. But of course John B knew nothing about Figure 8 social circles. “Just the first time as Rafe’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, you look nervous,” he admits, chuckling when your mouth drops open. “It’s not too obvious, I just know because—been in your shoes.”

You should be insulted that the teenager compares his and Sarah’s relationship with yours and Rafe’s, but you know he isn’t being malicious. You see nothing but kindness in his eyes. And it’s nice to have somewhat of a teammate in this situation, the two of you standing by while one of the most powerful families in Kildare poses together in their finest outfits.

Rafe looks hot in his grey suit, especially with the pocket square he’d agonized over for weeks before you gifted him one that was hand sewn from the extra material where your dress had been hemmed. Monogrammed, of course.

You’d decided to go with his initials, since it was going to him after all. But your stomach gets fluttery if you think about the expression on his face when he’d received it, telling you that you should’ve put yours on it instead. “That way everyone will know I’m yours.”

Turning back to John B, you can’t imagine how he must have felt the first time he was invited into all of this. It intimidated even you, and you’re pretty sure John B was friends with the boy who delivered your family’s groceries every week.

“Any tips?”

“You’re way better off than I was, first of all,” he laughs. “But he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one. He cares too much about this appearance of a perfect family to make digs in front of an audience.”

You nod. “That’s actually really good advice, John B.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, kook.” He clinks his glass against yours, promptly throwing the entire drink back as you watch and laugh. “That’s another tip. Drink whenever you can.”

“I’m familiar with that one.”

It's intimidating entering the event, a little after everyone else has arrived. Rafe told you that was by design—the Camerons could never be earlier than fashionably late. You always assumed you and Rafe were raised with similar pedigrees, but you're barely through the doors of the event before you realize that's not entirely true. Up until the last millisecond, Rose is fussing with Sarah and Wheezie's gowns, the older daughter making eye contact with you and rolling her eyes at her step-mother's antics. And Ward brushes Rafe's shoulders off more times than you can count, straightening his bow tie for him repeatedly. Rafe just places his hand on your back, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “You ready?”

You smile up at him, but your nerves are firmly settled in at this point. What you reply isn’t completely true. “Of course.”

—

You take John B’s advice, of course, and choose Kelce as your designated drinking buddy for the night. He was hard to keep up with, but you threw your inhibitions to the wind after you got meeting the Camerons out of the way. Plus, Rafe had more business to attend to than he’d let on, and you were getting pretty bored. Not too long ago he would’ve been right beside the rest of you, causing trouble and borderline embarrassing all of your parents. It was weird to see him walking around, shaking hands and rubbing elbows. He’d invited you into a few conversations, you trying your hardest not to simply watch him in awe.

You’re engaged in some strange dance battle with Kelce when he stacks his drink into yours, both empties at this point. “Your turn to get a round.”

“Boo,” you sigh, throwing your head back. “What d’you want?”

“Surprise me.”

“Aye aye.”

You’re turning on a shaky high heel, and you have to give yourself a little mental pep talk to straighten up. Of course you can, though.

“What can I get you, miss?” the barkeep asks.

“Vodka press, Tito’s, and a Jack and coke. Double Jack. Actually—single. Thanks,” you murmur, trying to fish a ten out of your clutch.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the tip for this one,” a voice says next to you. Ward Cameron is sidling up next to you, sliding a fifty across the counter. Your eyes widen at the tip, trying not to be embarrassed as the bartender sets the drinks down in front of you.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Cameron.”

“Ah, call me Ward.” He flicks his eyes back to the bartender, who quickly pockets the tip and makes himself scarce to give the two of you some privacy. You can’t help but think of John B’s warning: ‘he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one.’ There’s no point in even trying seek out Rafe, you knowing full well you’re expected to stay rooted to the spot until Ward dismisses you. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s always fun to come back out here for this.”

“So, California to Georgia,” he whistles. “That’s probably a five hour flight, at least.”

“Yeah, um,” you take a minute to make sure your flower crown is perfectly in place. “It’s actually two.”

“Excuse me?”

“Two flights. From his school to mine. Rafe checked, he said there’s nothing direct,” you clarify.

Ward let’s out an indifferent chuckle. “Of course he did.”

Your eyebrow furrows because you don’t know what to say, turning to look at where your drinks are starting to melt. Kelce would be wondering where you are by now if he wasn’t three sheets to the wind. And where the hell was Rafe?

“Y/n, as far as I can tell, you are a nice girl. I just need to make sure we’re on the same page about one thing.”

Your heartbeat that hadn’t really settled since Ward approached you is picking up again, and you really wish Rafe had been the least bit more concerned about where you were at this moment.

“Um, I-I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“I'm don’t know how serious you two are, Y/n, but I know my son. He's clearly very invested in pursuing you.”

Your resolve crumbles a little at that, your heart warming, thinking about Ward noticing something like that.

“But Rafe needs to be committed to finishing this degree so he can come home and start learning the ropes next year. And in four years, Sarah will do the same. Then Louisa after her.”

“Wow, that’s so lucky for you—that they all want to go into the family business,” you praise, not really knowing what else to say. It must be the wrong thing, because Ward just quirks an eyebrow.

“In this family, our business will always come first. Before anything and anyone else. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

You swallow, catching on to where this is going for the first time. You still go for playing dumb.

“Ward, I really don't think I understand.”

“But you do, don't you? You know Rafe. He’s a bit emotional, he’s a ‘feeler,’” Ward says sarcastically, putting it in air quotes. All of the niceties you experienced earlier when you first greeted Rafe’s family were long gone. You can only gather that it was all an act for Rafe’s benefit. But you know the only option is to sit there and take it. “He thinks with his heart, never enough with his head. Sarah, for example—when it’s time for her to cut that pogue lose, which it will be soon enough, I know she will. Whether it’s my decision or her’s. I can count on that, because she’s just like me in that respect; she knows we have to make sacrifices. But Rafe—I don’t think I can make that same assumption about him.”

“Ward, with all due respect, Rafe is really focused on the business.”

“You're correct, and I’ve worked hard to get him there. Which is why I can't have him spending his senior year of college, when he should be buckled down, traveling back and forth from California and getting distracted from his future by some girl.”

“Mr. Cameron, I would never—”

“You know that it’s true. I can tell you’re bright. You come from a great family.” It’s a compliment and an insult all at once. He likes you because of your father’s business and your mother’s social status, not because of what you do for Rafe, or what you have to show for yourself. He continues like it was nothing but the highest praise. “But right now, you are across the country from him, and I can bet he’s determined to make that work, no matter what it takes. Which I obviously can’t have,” Ward sighs. “It’s just not the right time. You can understand that, can't you?”

You nod numbly and pick up your drinks, hoping he’ll get the signal to wrap this up soon. You’re at the point where you can’t listen to this anymore, liquid courage re-flooding your veins.

“I’m not asking you to stay away from him, because you’re both adults,” Ward says, stopping you with a hand on your shoulder. “But I’m asking you to think long and hard about what’s best for the both of you. Rafe already knows what’s expected of him. He’s always known.”

You look back towards the crowd under the gazebo, able to make out John B of all people. He sees you talking to Ward, shooting you the most subtle thumbs up he can muster. He has no idea. You don’t take the chance to nod at him, turning back to the bar.

“Say the two of you let it go for the school year,” Ward bulldozes, taking a step closer to you. “And you end up back here too, great. But even then Rafe’s going to be working all the time, the longest hours he ever will in his life. For the next few years, Y/n. You’re so young—are you really going to tie yourself down to a commitment like that? What about your future?”

In a tone you hope comes across as confident, you say, “I really appreciate your concern, Ward.”

Ward's perfectly white teeth are pulling into an even more perfect grin, and the sight makes you sick.

“Great. I'm glad we had this talk.” He pats you on the back, leaving first before you get the chance to.

You just shuffle through the crowd numbly, not even reacting when someone steps on your toe, taking it all in stride as you seek the comfort of your friends once again.

You were foolish to think Ward would warm up to you immediately, or at all. You had been way too confident in yourself, especially after witnessing the wear working for his father had on Rafe. ‘He’s not an easy man to please.’ How could you be so naive, thinking you could coast by on your charm?

You’re a few feet away when you notice that Topper had joined up with Kelce again, as had your boyfriend. He’s joking with them, amused at the way Topper is clearly almost done tolerating Kelce’s drunken antics, but you stand and watch for a bit as he scans the crowd, gaze flickering toward the bar you’d just been at. You realize he’s looking for you when he finally spots you, his face relaxing as the two of you make eye contact.

“There you are.” He pulls you in close, kissing your forehead. You want to cry. “Where’d you run off to? One of those for me?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks you’re holding, reaching for the darker of the two. But Kelce is swooping in, snatching it out of your hold quickly. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p.’ “This one’s all mine. Sorry Cameron. Thanks Y/n/n.”

Rafe just rolls his eyes at the two of you, eyes lingering on your face when he notices your fallen expression. He sets your other drink down on the high top table you’re all standing next to, pulling you in by your hips. “You okay?”

If you had a choice right now, about how to proceed with telling or not telling Rafe about what had just happened, your instincts compel you to bypass the decision process altogether; you paint a careful smile on your face, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, all good. Just zoned out for a sec.”

He isn’t convinced. “Tired?”

“Maybe a little. Kinda drunk. Are we leaving soon?” you ask, melting into him. It’s a lot easier to handle his tone of voice when you don’t have to look him directly in the eye.

“I vote yes,” Topper says, gesturing towards Kelce, who is somehow sucking down his new drink at an alarming pace while continuing to dance to the oldies tunes they play at these things. “Like, right now. Rafe, you’re hanging back right?”

You look back up at your boyfriend in confusion. “You’re not coming with us?”

He bite his lip in contemplation, looking around the party. The twinkly lights reflect off of his pupils, making him look starry-eyed as he surveys the crowd. A sea of opportunities to prove himself to his father. Rafe looks resolved when he turns back to you.

“Well... I was gonna stay, wrap up some stuff,” he explains. His eyes flicker across your face, still not pleased with your expression. “But that’s okay, I’m good to go now.”

“No, Rafe,” you say immediately. You take a deep breath, rolling back your shoulders and painting on a smile that comes easily with years of experience at parties like this. “Stay, I’ll go ahead. How long will you be?”

“An hour, tops. Will you take her?” Rafe looks hesitant, still taking your green light anyway, already slowly extracting himself from your hold, Topper rolling his eyes but nodding and beginning to corral Kelce toward the exit.

“I can’t believe you’re making me babysit two of them.”

“Don’t let her drink too much.”

“Hey,” you protest, pushing him in his chest half heartedly. The push barely does anything, only proving your impaired motor skills further. Or that you're dating a tree. “What are you, a cop?”

“I’m your boyfriend, actually.”

“Really? When did that happen?” you decide to play along, picking up your drink again.

“‘Bout a month ago, Y/l/n,” he says softly. He can see right through you, can tell you're putting on a show for all of your friends but you're still not okay. You have to break eye contact.

“Hmm, for some reason I thought you were just this guy from middle school.”

“At least this time nobody spilled on your dress,” he teases half-heartedly, and the memory only hurts you more. “Not sure I’d wanna sacrifice this one.”

“Can you—you guys are the worst. Focus. We need to go now, before Kelce gets his entire family blacklisted from the club. You coming or not, Y/n/n?” Topper begs.

You’re nodding, leaning up to give Rafe one last kiss before you leave. He holds you close to him with a firm hand on your back, voice dropping to a whisper right next to your ear. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

The lump in your throat is growing, but you push through, lowering yourself back down to your feet as soon as you can. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Focus on the rest of your night.”

Rafe still looks unsure, his hand resting on the nape of your neck as he kisses your forehead. “Y/n—”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” you finally admit. Rafe nods curtly, can tell you’re not going to let him leave with you right now. But he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know that if you pull him away from his responsibilities right after that talk you had with Ward, it’s going to spell disaster for the two of you.

“Just some business stuff, alright?” he assures you. “I’ll see you soon. Forty-five minutes.”

“Promise?” you murmur, fiddling with his pocket square. He smiles down at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Promise. You look so pretty. Half an hour. Now go.”

Topper’s guiding you towards the parking lot with a polite hand on your back, but you have to watch Rafe as you leave. You watch him approach his dad, who gives him a smile and a pat on the back. Rafe preens under his gaze.

But Ward must have been watching you two from afar because his gaze is flickering back to you, and he fixes you with a hard stare. He raises his eyebrows, bringing his drink to his lips. Taking a leisurely sip, hint of a smirk on his face. You can practically hear his thoughts: ‘Rafe chose to stay here with me, with the business, and sent you off with his friends.’ It’s everything in you to not let the tears that have been building on your waterline spill over. But your friend isn’t easily fooled.

“Y’alright, Y/n?” Topper says from beside you, trusting Kelce enough to walk on his own as you all near the parking lot. He moves to follow your gaze but you stop him, quickening your pace towards his gray Jeep. “Did something happen?”

“Ward Cameron happened.”

———

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids

#rafe cameron #rafe x y/n #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction #she writes

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bbnibini · 4 years ago

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PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – sixty-five🔖

A foreboding feeling won’t disappear from your heart all throughout class. The seat beside you was empty (Satan was still busy with his investigations with Lucifer), Levi was preoccupied with too many things to be confided anything with—apparently, Asmodeus was too, as he had taken it upon himself to “salvage” Levi’s “disaster of a party”, not knowing that it was not even a real person’s birthday in the first place. Simeon seemed amused at the contrasting personalities’ exchanges, and only intervened when voices were raised and Luke started crying when a binder hit him on the head from the heat of their arguments. Mammon was with Solomon, arguing over some magic formulae that he hadn’t quite mastered yet. Beel had been sweet and thoughtful, but you had a feeling that he wasn’t acting like himself lately. In contrast, his twin didn’t seem to have any worry in the world as he slept through most of his classes.

It was…too normal? No, that’s not quite the right word for it. Rather, it felt like they’re (sans Mammon) pretending that everything was fine, and whatever they were hiding, they’d rather not tell you. Disconcerting perhaps? You did know that now wasn’t the right time to ask anything. Despite your wariness however, nothing can ever prepare you for what happened once you went back in Lamentation.

…and by you, of course it meant everyone else, including the Purgatory Hall residents and Royal Castle residents. What were they all doing here? What's with the tense atmosphere?

"Over here." Satan called your name and patted the seat beside him on the large dining table. One would mistake the gathering as something more ceremonious, but there were no food displays nor feasts or speeches to toast to—only a forlorn Beelzebub who voiced out similar concerns to his drowsy twin on the other side of the table.

It was Lord Diavolo's voice that commanded silence in the dining hall. Whatever veneer of normalcy was now shed, and you began to feel the familiar uneasiness again.

"It'll be fine." Or so had Satan told you while Lord Diavolo made opening introductions about the issue at hand. Words such as brainwashing and poisonous herb came to light, supplemented by Lucifer, Barbatos and Solomon's observations. All three admitted to being part of a secret investigation team and caused arguments from the uninformed for a while, until the Demon Prince quelled their unrest by the finality of his words…or rather, his warnings.

"This is a serious matter. Their life is in danger, and so are their family's and friends'. For the sake of their safety, if you are ever involved in the concerned incidents, I implore you to present yourself and explain your reasons."

Belphegor didn't seem amused by the implications of the Demon Prince's words, and made such dissatisfactions clear with his retort: "Are you saying one of us tried to kill them? Do you have any evidence for your baseless accusations?"

"Woah, what the fuck? Why would we ever do that?! Why would we ever harm our human?” Mammon echoed Belphegor’s offense and retorted in the same fashion.

"That's how I reacted like at first, so I did a little research of my own." Satan replied.

Lucifer sighed deeply and looked at you as if telling you not to ask any details about your lover's findings, or how he went about obtaining them. You felt your heart tighten. Just what was Satan up to while he was gone?

"A generous (read: relented to his little brother's whims) source gave me a sample of the same poison used on the tin: a banned item. Needless to say, this person knows exactly what they're doing. I'd even go far as to say that they know about their birth origins and their connection to us seven."

"Why so?"

"I'm glad you asked, Your Highness. Every one of you must have a copy of my findings on your leftmost side. If you would turn to the seventh page—"

"...?!"

A delicious herb hides endless possibilities to an imaginative spellcaster. The potency of its effects when refined properly can serve as a catalyst for the most powerful spells. However, human mages wishing to seek its power must proceed with caution, as in certain doses…

Satan held your hand very tightly as he noticed you rest your back against the seat.

You heard him say "You can do this," as you read aloud, and even repeated those comforting words as you strained your ears to listen to everyone's feedback. However much you tried to listen in though, you can only think grim thoughts.

How can you…exactly make sense of this? That what?

1. Someone is absolutely trying to kill you. They even went so far as to use brainwashing to erase your existence to your important people in the human world.

2. They are aware that you're Lilith's descendant. Which makes sense why Lord Diavolo suspected everyone in the very room you're in right now(as it is a well-guarded secret).

3. The killer used an herb lethal to humans in certain doses, but an effective enough of a spell catalyst so that they can finish off the job in case you didn't consume enough.

4. The killer used a charm spell to brainwash his victims.

5. The killer is aware that demons are resistant to certain spells.

6. Your fallen angel blood will resist succumbing to the charm spell, but it cannot counter the herb's effects. Meaning, either you succumb to the poison or you will be in so much pain as your angel blood rejects the spell casted with the herb.|

7. The killer really really wants you dead.

"Wait a moment." In your cacophony of thoughts, an unexpected voice silenced the clamorous room. However, his gold and silver eyes didn't meet with yours. Instead, his attention was on the Demon Prince.

"What is the connection of the remaining two items to this, Diavolo? I only heard about the cookie tin being poisoned."

"It makes sense since I only asked Barbatos to commission you to make the antidote. No, these two gifts aren't connected at all. Ah.

I'm sorry!" Diavolo looked at you in concern as he called your name. "I didn't mean to make you distraught!”

Diavolo's apology caused everyone else to be calmer. A wave of apologies soon followed.

"Sorry we got carried away." you heard from Belphegor's side of the table, followed by Asmo's and Beel's concerned inquiries that you reassured with hopeful (albeit forced) smiles.

You felt Satan’s hand squeeze yours, only realising how cold and sweaty your palms were when you met eyes briefly. You turned to the next person who called your name.

"I apologise for my oversight. Have you calmed down a bit?" Lucifer followed, along with Simeon's and Barbatos' own inquiries which you reassured yet again with smiles. Your other hand squeezed Luke's own, feeling it trembling like yours. Knowing you're not the only one scared with all the revelations was reassuring in an unsettling way.

The little angel’s, “I’m okay! I have to be strong for the both of us!” wasn’t very convincing with how he stumbled upon his own words, but his intent and his meaning reached you and you were thankful just for that.

"I overestimated you. I'm sorry." Said Satan who kissed your threaded hands and you shook your head.

"You're right though. I need to hear this. I have all of you, I'm not afraid."

Regret registered in his features. You heard him sigh.

"You can be afraid." He apologised again. "You have the luxury to, with everyone here worrying about you."

He did make you feel better. You find yourself laughing a bit at how obvious his words were to you now. Everyone cared for you, you couldn’t help but think. You wanted to return their kindness in some way or another, even if it meant lying to your own feelings and twisting the truth for their own peace of mind.

"This is just…a lot of things to take in. Even the thought that one of you--"

"Do you really think it's one of us?"

You shook your head.

"Because it's not. You'll see. Everything will be fine."

Was it? Will it? Everyone seems to be trying to make it seem that way, so you'd like to at least believe it for their sake.

Your name was called again, this time by the Demon Prince who was leading the flow of the conversation. The apologetic look on his face stayed even with your assurances, and he seemed hell-bent (pun not intended) to make amends with you.

“This is my own oversight, I’m sorry. I should have been more thoughtful.”

You smiled and shook your head. “I’m fine, Lord Diavolo.”

He pondered on your words for a bit, letting out an almost inaudible hum. “This wouldn’t do at all. I have offended not only you, but Belphegor and Mammon with my own baseless assumptions. I did not mean to accuse anyone, but it was clear that my words have caused both fear and offense.”

Belphegor looked like he had something to say, but Lucifer stopped him from talking prematurely. Lucifer exchanged looks with Barbatos, and the demon butler started to speak upon exchanging nods with him.

“It is most gracious of you, milord to acknowledge your lack of delicacy. There is a time and place for candour, as well as amelioration.”

“Barbatos…”

The demon butler noticed your stares and smiled gently at you. “Might I suggest an open forum? An opportunity for everyone in this very room to tell the truth for the sake of their safety? I would expect our precious human exchange student to also be truthful of their feelings, if possible.”

“Truthfulness? What a splendid suggestion.” Solomon said from the other side of the room. “Perhaps an elaboration on this truthfulness would be helpful on leading this suggestion into fruition.”

“Hm? Wouldn’t that just be similar to interrogations in mystery novels?” (Satan)

“That’s a fun way of doing it, I suppose.” (Solomon)

“Like D*tective C*nan?”

“Levi…” You shook your head repeatedly at your best friend as you noticed Lucifer’s deathly glares directed at him. Thankfully, he noticed immediately and was able to keep his fanboying in check.

“I agree.” Simeon added. “If it means it would maintain peace in this room and clear everyone’s doubts with each other, I do think it’s the best solution.”

“What do you think, Lucifer?” Solomon consulted his other “coworker”, and the eldest sibling sighed in relent. “It’s not like we have much of a choice. Leaving this room while still doubting each other wouldn’t be good for all of us, especially them.”

The first few minutes of the “open forum” had a lot of dead airs and awkward starts. Simeon encouraged a couple of unenthused demons to sit on the floor, all huddled up to each other to “promote intimacy and trust”, but all it earned him were overgrown groans and griping fitting to that of rebellious teens going through their middle school phase. A little problem with the whole huddling situation also surfaced when two unmistakably…large adult demons by the names of Beelzebub and Diavolo had exhibited visible discomfort on trying to conform with their peer’s original, cross-legged positions. Thankfully, a compromise was met and they were now seated more comfortably with their knees bundled up.

Each person who had to explain their side were made to go to the centre of the circle to “tell their own truth”, while the rest followed up with questions once they were done saying their piece.

The first to go forward was Barbatos, the original suggester. He seated calmly at the centre and started speaking once he was prompted.

“As all of you are already aware, Lucifer, Solomon and I are working closely with each other in secret to protect them. We have kept this from all of you in fear that it will only make everyone worry. I apologise for not considering all of your feelings.”

“Did you write the letter?” Satan asked and Barbatos shook his head. “No. I did not send the bouquet either. However, I confess. I was the one who sent the tin of cookies.”

!!!

Barbatos understood everyone’s apprehension and calmly continued his sentence. “Lucifer can attest for me that the cookies were not poisoned when I made it for them. He was with me when I have been baking the sweets for them and a few of our guests in the Castle.”

Lucifer confirmed Barbatos’ statements at his own turn. “They had expressed interest on the cookies before, so Barbatos included their share on the batch he had made for Diavolo’s guests that day. If he had poisoned Diavolo’s equally human guests, they would have all been dead by now.”

That makes sense. Besides, the real killer wouldn’t suggest such a disadvantageous method such as an open forum to put them on the spot.

“As for my own accounts, I was not aware of any letters or bouquets until the investigation team began our operations. I did put a note on their locker to summon them in my office. Judging from their absence, however…it must have remained to be seen.”

“Was it a blue sticky note with their name on it?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened as he turned to the Demon Prince. “How—”

“Oh, it was at my own batch of cookies for some reason.”

Lucifer sighed, realisation finally dawning on him. “Mrs. DeVille must have misunderstood my orders.”

“She’s a well-meaning woman, however misguided. I apologise on her behalf.” Barbatos bowed his head. “It is my own incompetence as her superior to have overlooked her capabilities.”

“Mrs. DeVille?”

Barbatos nodded at you. “Yes. She had been a servant at the Castle dating back to Young Master’s great grandfather. She’s one of our most loyal retainers.” There had been an apologetic look on his face as he continued to explain. “Her seniority precedes most of us in the Castle.”

“So she’s really old?”

“Belphie! You shouldn’t call a woman old!” Asmo scolded.

“But that’s what she is. OLD. Senile even. Isn’t that kind of servant just a burden to keep?”

“Belphegor.” Lucifer warned, causing the youngest to roll his eyes and mutter out a whatever under his breath in irreverence.

“The fault lies with me, and not with Mrs. DeVille. In any way, that matter has already passed. Whose turn is it in the hot seat this time?”

Asmo raised his hand, letting out a cheery “Me!” as he sat cross-legged in the centre. Contrary to the dreary atmosphere, the Avatar of Lust’s laid-back cheer offered comfort in the tense atmosphere. You briefly wondered if Asmo intended for that to happen, as the demon was rather perceptive if he wasn’t so hung up with himself.

“I mean, I didn’t write anything nor send anything, but don’t you think those sorts of romantic gestures suit me? I almost wish I were the one who sent both!”

…or so he says. Lucifer had been an effective buffer on Asmo’s foreboding tirades about love and beauty. Soon, Levi’s, Beel’s, Simeon’s and Luke’s turns came, all reiterations of the same tune of “It wasn’t me”, which freed them of any suspicions:

“You had a locker?” Was Beel’s innocent inquiry; his cluelessness a testament to your apprehension with his twin after…that. Of course, the situation has changed now, but it was too late for you to tell them—rather, it had completely slipped your mind.

Once Levi’s turn came, you both exchanged a conspiratory nod. "If I would give you any gift, I would just send it to you, not your locker." Levi shrugged. "Besides, we were always together. Sneak attacks like that aren't my thing." That was true. Any energy he'd have for scheming was better spent on his beloved strategy games.

“I didn’t send it. I was busy helping Luke out with his homework around that time, I think?” Simeon’s alibi was confirmed by the younger angel who had not only matching alibis with the angel, but also with their human companion.

“Solomon also helped us out a bit before meeting up with Asmodeus that morning.”

Solomon had a vague smile on his face as he looked over at you, noticing your stares.

“We weren’t aware of the cookies being poisoned at that point. However, Lucifer had suspicions that something wasn’t right when Barbatos made his usual reports to the human world.” He explained.

Lucifer nodded. “Right. When I saw you sharing them with everyone in Lamentation, the cookies were already compromised. It didn’t look the same as what they had been before Barbatos sent them to you.”

“So that’s why you wanted my advice on the charm spell…Mhm. I did meet with Solomon that morning after my spa appointment.” Asmo said. “Well, anyway! That’s that. Solomon, dear~ It’s your turn!”

Solomon sat himself on the centre in the same manner as everyone else and nodded. “What Luke and Asmo said were true. I was with both of them around that time. They have pretty much explained everything for me.”

“Even so, I would imagine hearing your innocence from your own lips is more reassuring than second opinions.” Barbatos said. The sorcerer smiled back. “Ah, but of course. Around that time, I was already working on the antidote for the poison your men have traced on their friends and family.”

“Ahh, I can confirm that as well. We have personally requested for his assistance.” Lucifer reassured. “Whose turn is it next?”

Satan raised his hand. Wordlessly, he sat in the centre and stated his alibi. “I did not send the bouquet, but I did give them a single carnation to cheer them up. I have noticed a tin of cookies in the locker then, but paid it no mind. I thought it was there to begin with.”

“So the cookies were sent first, then the flower? You mean to say there was no bouquet nor love letter yet when you placed your gift on their locker?”

“None to my knowledge.” Satan answered the curious Demon Prince. “Seeing as it seems like not everyone knows where the locker is located, is it correct to assume that the letter and bouquet sender is someone close to them?”

Levi vehemently shook his head once heads turned to him... “W-why would I send anything that embarrassing?!”

…then at Mammon, who jolted from his seat.

“Come to think of it, Mammon had been reaaaalllllyyyy quiet all this time. Suspicious.” Satan frowned.

The colour started leaving Mammon’s face as everyone turned their eyes at him.

His saviour, however bitter and resentful for Satan’s revelation interrupted the accusing party’s inquiries to him by speaking out of his turn. “Did you not tell Beel and I about where it was on purpose?”

You turned to Belphegor, interrupted before you can even speak.

“No. This isn’t about Beel at all. It’s about me, isn’t it? After all, deep down…you resent me, don’t you?”

“Belphie, I—”

"Me? Send anything in your locker? You didn't even tell me where it is!" The hurt in Belphie's tone made you realise how you had inadvertently hurt someone again due to your negligence. You wondered if your flustered apologies were ever heard. Then again, you'd rather for them not to. He doesn’t deserve a half-assed one at all.

The door slammed shut as the youngest left the room, and as you attempted to chase after him, Beelzebub held a hand above your shoulder and shook his head.

“He needs some time alone. He left because he didn’t have anything nice to say right now.” As he saw you shook your head, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “He doesn’t want to hurt you.”

“But—”

“Belphie’s not mad at you,” Beel reassured you. “He’s mad at himself.”

“It completely slipped my mind. So much has happened and…”

“Ahh. He understands that deep down, but he needs some time. I’ll talk to him if you want.”

“Thanks, Beel.” You tilted your head at the taller demon as you caught him holding back on his words. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?” Beel seemed really deep in thought so you assumed he was thinking carefully on his words. However, he said no.

“It isn’t my truth to tell.” He spoke cryptically as he shook his head. “No, please forget I said anything.”

You didn’t forget. But you felt like it wasn’t the time to ask him right now so you went back to your spot. Your eyes wandered to the shut door a few times with only Satan’s reassuring gaze quelling your anxieties and doubts.

By the time you came back, it was already Lord Diavolo’s turn. You can tell that he was more cheerful than usual; perhaps to ease the sour mood that filled the room with Belphegor walking out.

"No letter or bouquet could be enough to show you how important you are to Devildom! To me! I'd like to host a parade in your honour if I could!"

...You saw a pained smile from his competent butler and close friend and you could only offer your silent condolences. Satan had to be placated with sneaky kisses to his lips when no one was looking to quell his pouting. You thought Levi had noticed, for he rolled his eyes at both of you in disgust.

After a few more discussions, your mysterious letter sender finally revealed himself…you just didn't expect the person who sent it. Mammon's face looked like he had been through hell and back as he realised the gravity of the situation as well as the weight of his actions. With a face paler than usual, he approached you and bowed his head.

"I'm sorry!"

Along with his apologies was a clumsy explanation of his reasons. You felt like it was not the time to pry any further, so you told him to come closer so you could share some whispered words for him in embrace. "Let's talk later." Everyone else seemed puzzled at your brief exchange, but after assuring everyone that you're fine, they were able to move on to the other issue at hand: the bouquet sender.

Mammon was very adamant on his insistence that he was not the original sender. Even with the investigation team's confirmations of its harmlessness, no one came forward.

"It could be any demon in RAD, couldn't it? They're quite popular among some circles…of the non-gourmet variety, mind you!" Asmo then mentioned some names that Satan helpfully collated in his notebook. Close-eyed smiles and all, he insisted to be given a detailed list of all of them for investigative purposes. Thankfully, you were able to stop him before any more names on the list were ever written.

Beelzebub approached you again after the open forum concluded. The meeting hadn’t ended yet, however. Lucifer was giving some closing remarks, explaining how the human world investigations were progressing in more detail and answering inquiries (mostly Satan’s) about its progress.

“I lied. There is something I want to tell you earlier. I’m sorry.”

Okay? You were really confused now. “What is it?”

He looked intently at you as he spoke, carrying finality in his words. “The letter may be harmless but, I feel like no one else should see it.”

“Beel, you’re starting to scare me.”

Beel didn’t seem like his usual self. It felt like something was burdening him. When he realised how he was making you feel, he seemed genuinely apologetic and even awkwardly patted your head. “I didn’t mean to do that. I…just have a really bad feeling.”

Feeling?

“A gut feeling,” he explained. “Like something bad is going to happen if someone else gets their hands on your letter. Even Mammon.”

“Why would something bad happen to the original sender? Aren’t the letter and flowers harmless?” You remembered Barbatos and the others saying so.

“Yeah. Maybe I’m just overthinking this. Sorry for worrying you,”

Beel’s instincts to these sorts of things are razor sharp. You recalled Belphie telling you that his intuition had saved him countless of times, especially when he was still working as a soldier in heaven. The very fact that it bothered him enough to tell you about it must mean that it was really bad. So despite his words, you decided to listen to him. You decided to give Barbatos the letter after the meeting: it’s better safe than sorry.

When you went back to your seat, you saw that it was currently occupied by a teasing Asmo who was poking your more-than-friends demon on his cheek. “Cheer him up, won’t you? His whole thought process is absurd! And that’s coming from ME!”

“Absurd? What’s this about, Satan?”

You saw him cover Asmo’s smirking mouth as he explained himself. “He says I’m being overdramatic.”

“About what?” Satan’s cheeks dusted a lovely pink upon your inquiry, and Asmo had this expression on his face that BEGGED you to ask. And you being an enabler, humoured him. You couldn’t help it! Satan WAS adorable right now!

“…” Satan hesitated at first, until the whisper of his words grew louder as you repeated your questions.

“I was wondering if the bouquet sender would be able to sway your heart if he ever comes forward…

S-stop laughing! This is a genuine concern, all right?!”

Pfft!

“That’s a Mammon thing to say, Satan. I didn’t expect that.”

“Oh god, you JUST had to open your mouth, didn’t you Asmo?” You saw Satan cover his red-stained face with his hands in embarrassment. Unfortunately, his red ears couldn’t be hidden so easily.

This adorable, adorable man! You wrapped your arms around him and hugged the hell out of him. He’s so cute! (A complete contrast to the profanities coming out of his mouth right now, that’s for sure.)

“Solooooomoooon~ Satan is being meannnnn~!” And the instigator of all of this had now fled the scene, able to be caught by the human he was in a pact with as he pretended to faint.

“What’s this all about?”

You laughed nervously as you saw your fellow human was stuck in the same awkward position as you. “Asmo was teasing Satan about the flower sender stealing me away from him.”

“Hahaha! That’s cute. So the Avatar of Wrath is also an Avatar of Envy?”

You saw Satan glare at the sorcerer as you were in embrace. He was like a temperamental cat—but since he was in a grumpy mood right now, you decided to hold back on the teasing. Solomon seemed to read the mood too, and aimed to placate rather than go about his usual wise cracks.

“I don’t see the problem though?” Solomon asked, unfazed.

“What do you mean by that?” Asked Satan who had now exacted his “revenge” on his brother by a pinch on his cheek. A small yelp let out from Asmo as he attempted to do the same.

His smile never wavered as he held Asmo in his arms. “Well if you think about it, didn’t you find the real flower sender already? Satan is the only flower sender that matters to you. So, I don’t see why or how a mere reveal would change your feelings for each other if that were ever to happen.”

Satan seemed surprised at Solomon’s sensible answer. “I never thought of it that way.”

The sorcerer laughed a little as he continued speaking. “Sometimes, obvious little things like that slip our minds because the person we love is so close to us. Your feelings for each other is your own truth—a truth that only the two of you can know on your own. No matter how you arrive to that truth, whether it all started with lies or misunderstandings, the love that blossomed from those lies will never be lies.”

“Is that speaking from experience, oh wise one?”

“I’ll leave that to your imagination~” Wait. What does he mean by that? You couldn’t really tell with this man, sadly. And you didn’t get to ask anymore as he had been called by Lucifer to wrap up. Your attention immediately focused on the more important things.

“More important things”= A cute, pouting Satan♡

“So you’re worried I’ll fall in love with someone else?”

“Shut up…”

“I’m happy you’re worried though. I love you, Satan♡” You sneaked a kiss on his lips, which your temperamental cat boy shyly accepted.

The investigations continued to take place in your remaining days in RAD. However, the mysterious bouquet sender never came forward. Perhaps Solomon was right. It didn’t really matter anymore if the real sender would be found. Even if he would come forward and confess his feelings to you one day, you were sure that your heart would only ever be with Satan. That realisation however, would definitely cause heartaches to anyone else. You trusted Beel’s gut and gave Barbatos the letter immediately, so when Mammon finally talked to you about his letter, he wasn’t able to see it anymore. You weren’t stupid. You knew why he sent it, but you weren’t smart enough to know how to properly reject someone. Perhaps both of you knew what was going to happen as you remained silent in your room and never initiated conversation with each other once he entered the room. It was…awkward. And suffocating. Which was weird because it was just Mammon. He was one of the demons closest to you, yet he felt so far away now. Even his gaze was equally far away. Mammon’s fingers were fumbling with a thimble he found next to your bed—a failed attempt at cross stitching that you were too stubborn to give up on. You saw him marvelling over your botchy needlework, his thumbs feeling the rough and uneven bumps of thread. “This is one ugly cat,” His half-hearted insult was welcome in the unsettling silence, rising a laugh out of you as you agreed with his opinion. “I really wanted to do something for Satan. Maybe I should have thought of something else.”

“You really like my brother, don’t you?” There was no accusation in his tone, just mere curiosity. You nodded immediately and it caused him to laugh a little. “Can’t help but notice since you’re all over each other.”

“Sorry…”

“What are ye sorry for?” He playfully ruffled your head as he smiled. “I should be the one saying sorry.

No matter my excuse, I shouldn’t have tried to steal what’s important to ya.”

“But you didn’t know—“

“Are you kidding me right now? Why the heck are you defending me, idiot human!” Despite his words, he spoke in a fond tone. When you gave him permission to embrace you, he wrapped his arms around you and sighed in relief. “It’s easy to like you if you act like this, you know? But…you don’t have to like everyone who likes you, idiiiiot.”

“Mammon…”

“Listen, the Great Me was never rejected! You simply blew your chance! I’m such a catch, you know that?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re gonna regret ever letting me go.”

“Oh, I will!”

“It’d be more convincing if you aren’t laughing!”

Well, he was laughing too. So, who really is clowning himself right now?

“You’re thinking about something realllyyyy rude right now, aren’t you?”

Gasp. “You can tell?”

“Seriously?” He sighed and pinched your cheek. “Well whatever. Listen...I think you deserve to know the truth.”

His tone had changed now; from playful to solemn. The kindness in his touch remained. “Remember that little girl in the human world I was taking care of?”

“Yeah.” So it was true? Asmo said he was joking, but…could his brothers really know what’s going on in Mammon’s private life? There was an absence of mirth in his tone, as if he was exhausted and sad—you never saw that look on Mammon before so you didn’t know how to react. You could only listen in silence.

“…that little girl is really sick right now. She needs a huge operation soon if she…” He bit his lip and continued. “...she’s too young to die. And I can’t let her…not if I can do anything about it.”

“Aren’t the witches taking care of her?”

“Yeah. But…I shoulder her financially. Can’t really do all that when I’m dead broke.” He looked almost ashamed to admit it. “So I resorted to stealin’, even if I know I shouldn’t, especially to you. I thought you would understand if I tell ya. But…a part of me still thinks this ain’t right.”

“Mammon…”

“I can’t tell the others. They’d think I’m full of shit. Haha. Well, I am.”

“Only most of the time.”

“Shaddup! Hahhh…what do you think I should do?”

What should you say? You weren’t expecting he had such profound reasons. It certainly explained his desperation. However, you weren’t financially capable enough to say in confidence that you can help. You gave him permission to sell your bouquet, but even he admitted that it would only be enough to sustain the little girl for a short amount of time. Should you tell Lucifer? Would Mammon be okay with that?

“Not really the best time to ask advice from you, huh? Not when someone’s trying to kill you and all.”

You smiled a little in his clumsy attempts to comfort you. Shaking your head, you returned his hug with a squeeze. “I’ll help you figure something out at least.”

“You would?”

“Yeah! But there’s a catch!”

Mammon laughed and pinched your cheek at your attempts for negotiation. “Okay, fine. What’s the catch?”

With a closed-eyed smile, you placed a finger on your lips as you stated your conditions. “Ruri-chan’s birthday party would be livelier with you around. Won’t you reconsider attending, oh Great One?”

[ You have unlocked new chatrooms in MEMORIA 7. ]

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💌 tag request: @krussyfed, @lilliansstuff , @cupsof-tea

#psisly #hamartia series #obey me #shall we date obey me #obey me fic #interactive fiction #obey me x reader #cyoa #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #love letter #secret admirer

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killmongerkink · 5 years ago

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11:37 PM - Part 3.

Summary: Erik and you meet up at an unlikely location.

Pairing: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens X Black!Reader

Warning: oral sex & fluff.

Length: 5k

BTW: i really wasn't planning on continuing this series. i kinda fell out of love with it, but then i reread my work and it made me want to write all over again lol. i’ll try not to take so long with writing these next few parts :/. enjoy and sorry for any typos!

CATCH UP: part 1 / part 2

MASTERLIST

"So, who's that broad you been chillin' with?"

Erik's attention was momentarily pulled from the game as Aaron questioned him. Him and his boys had been in the house for most of the day, deciding to meet up and chill since they didn't have shit else to do on a Saturday. It was Erik's day off at Acuity Brands where he was the lead data engineer, Lo had pulled a double shift to get the day off and Aaron didn't know the definition of a job, so it was a unanimous decision to link up.

"Chill with that broad shit man, she got a name."

"Well you won't tell us her name, so what the fuck else are we supposed to call her?" Lo replied, his head still stuck in his phone as he watched some rap battle on Twitter.

"Y'all ain't got to know her name, just know it ain't broad. Have some respect."

Aaron gave Lo a look in which Lo returned, before they both busted out laughing. Erik sat back, unamused by the two men. They had been questioning him since they got to his crib about the new girl he had been seen walking home a few times. He should've known niggas on the block couldn't mind their damn business. It's not that he had a problem with people seeing you with him, he just didn't want others knowing about what he had going on or trying to get to know you. You were the only thing in his life that he didn't have to share. When it came to his job, he shared that with his co-workers and uptight boss. When it came to his apartment, he shared that with the few close friends he had. When it came to you .. you were his. Not in the sense of you being his girl or anything like that, but he appreciated the fact that he was the only person you really knew here besides your Uncle and classmates. He was the one that got to walk you home, take you to all the dope mom and pops shops and show you the hidden foot spots around Harlem. The last thing he wanted was you getting close to someone else because then he'd be on the back burner. No longer would you need him to walk you home and he wouldn’t be able to see your face light up when he showed you something new due to someone else beating him to it. He'd be damned if that happened. His eyes shifted over to Aaron doing a broke down version of the woah and Lo hyping him up, especially not these niggas.

Erik wasted no time pulling out his phone and searching for your Instagram. It had been a while since he saw you, a week and a half to be exact. He didn't hit up the gas station these past couple days because he didn't really have anything to get, and he could only eat so many donuts and snickers before his body would start paying for it. During those days, he kept up with you via social media which wasn't much since you barely posted. Neither did he, but shit ... he wanted to know what you were up to. He could've just DM'd you since he didn't have your number. The realization making him pause, why didn't he have your number? He was gonna make sure he got that shit the next time he saw you. He could see you now, being all shy and awkward after he asked and the thought made him chuckle.

"What's so funny? Yo' ass being all quiet and shit. You lookin' at titties?" Aaron eyed Erik suspiciously, leaning back and craning his neck to look at his phone screen.

"Yo, you ever mind your business?" Lo quipped back. "Now you know E private. I'm surprised his ass even got us in his crib, you know he be acting like he got the secret formula and shit in here." Lo shook his head, eyes still glued to his phone.

Since Lo had been cool with Erik before Aaron, he knew him better. Erik didn't like people in his personal business or space, close friend or not, and if you began to ask one too many questions, he'd get suspicious quickly. Everyone knew that, but there were some people that just couldn't get the hint or just didn't give a damn and that was Aaron.

"Y'all so sensitive, acting like my gotdamn momma. I just know y'all better change them attitudes by tonight. You know his girl Tae having a kickback and we gotta be in there.” He pointed towards E, a quick “she ain’t my girl” leaving Erik’s lips. “She bringing all her homegirls from her campus and you know what that means." Aaron rubbed his hands together, a sly grin on his face as all three men exchanged a blur of ayeeeee's and yeeerrrrrr's.

The apartment was pretty packed when Erik and his boys arrived. Most people already had drinks or a blunt in their hand, some boo'd up on the couch while others played dice and beer pong. When a few eyes noticed their presence, they were met with daps and laughs. A few random girls came up, offering to make them drinks and they nodded along, not dumb enough to refuse being served.

They all made their way through the numerous bodies, standing by the kitchen entrance where Tae was talking loudly to a few friends. Erik had met her at a party a year or so back, and since then she’d been around. He threw her one of his signature smiles, knowing that it would make up for him curving her for these past couple weeks. It wasn't as if he was doing it on purpose, he just had more important shit to do with more important people. She acknowledged his smile by rolling her eyes and turned back to her conversation. He stayed put, knowing that she was trying hard not to walk over to him. He was pretty sure she already dogged him out to her friends, hence why they were all trying to look at him without being obvious. All it took was one of the randoms to hand him a drink before Tae was walking up.

"Hey Neicy, the girls in there need some help. Would you mind?" Her eyebrow rose, silently challenging the girl to not obey.

"Uh, sure thing." She nodded, looking at Erik one last time before shuffling back into the kitchen.

Tae turned to him, sighing heavily as if the last place she wanted to be was here. While she was busy putting on a show, he took the opportunity to really look at her. It was easy to write her off since she was away at school, but now that she was back for the weekend he was planning on making it up to her. It didn't hurt that she looked even better than the last time he saw her.

"You been giving my shit away?"

Tae gave him a confused look before catching onto to his comment. Her shoulders bounced, her drink sloshing in her red solo cup. She knew that he wasn't one that was fond of someone else being in his shit, something he had made known when they first fucked. Word got around quick here and since he hadn't heard anything, he figured she was behaving herself at college. Tae looked over her shoulder, pleased that everyone was occupied in their own little world and looked back at Erik, saying nothing as she grabbed his hand and walked him back towards her bedroom.

Erik relaxed at the end of the bed, careful not to spill his drink on himself while he leaned back and rested his weight on his elbows. He stared up at the ceiling for a second, wondering what you were doing. Probably home, catching up on work or watching Netflix. Tae's hands made quick work of his belt and jeans, pulling them down to his knees along with his boxers. A few seconds later, she made herself busy by licking a broad stripe along the length of his dick, going back and forth with no hands. She craned her neck to the side, using her tongue to lift the weight of his head before his dick was sinking into her warmth. Releasing a sigh, he felt tension flow from his body and into her mouth. It had been a minute since he got some head. He wasn't one to just lay down with anybody, so he kept a select few around that he could depend on. One of his favorites was Tae, but that changed when she started handing out ultimatums. She knew what it was since the beginning and that he wasn't in the correct mindspace for anything too serious. All Erik wanted was a girl he could chill with and fuck, all that extra shit didn't interest him. When he was told "either you cuff me or I'm not fucking with you anymore", he took that as his hint to dip on her, but it wasn't long before she was right back where she always was - on her knees.

Erik wondered if you were the type to do that, force someone into something that you knew they weren't interested in ... nah. If anything, you would be the one getting pushed to do something. Your quiet and shy nature was enough evidence to prove that, but he did notice that more of your personality was starting to show. Maybe it was because you were finally getting comfortable around him, maybe it was because he didn't allow you to shut down and crawl back into your hole when you were with him. He could see that you were goofy as hell, true to yourself and actually educated on various topics. He was just waiting for you to realize that.

His attention was brought back to Tae when he felt her by his balls, her hand resting underneath them and her fingers wrapping around his dick, holding the two together in one hand. Her attempts to deep throat caused his hips to raise on their own, his girth making it nearly impossible for her to swallow it all, let alone get his nuts. That didn't deter her from making sure to give an adequate amount of attention to all of him though. He appreciated her efforts and enthusiasm, her watery eyes proving that she was really trying to go all out tonight. She dragged her mouth up his length, a loud pop resonating in the dark room before her hand jerked him slowly, Erik's low grunts mixing with the sounds of squelching due to a mixture of his pre-cum and her excessive amount of saliva.

The image of you replacing Tae's form popped into his head and he felt his body jerk. Had you ever even done this before? He wouldn't be surprised if you hadn't, but the thought of you eagerly wanting to prove yourself as you kneeled in front of him had him ready to bust. Your lips were always glistening with that damn lipgloss he would see you use every now and again. And he could tell you had a long ass tongue from the times you would randomly stick it out after saying something funny. Shit would probably feel like heaven.

"Erik, what's wrong? Why are you being so nice?" She pouted, sticking her tongue out and slapping his head against it hard before sucking it to her mouth, only paying attention to his tip as if it was a lollipop.

Her comment made him freeze, looking off to the side and realizing what she was saying was true. Usually, he was rough when it came to anything sexual. He got off to it, taking control and spitting out obscenities. There was no time to be soft and sweet, it just made the nut take longer to come in his opinion. So why the fuck was he being so laid back all of a sudden? A part of him was ticked off as he thought about it, raising up from the bed and gripping Tae's hair in his fist, earning a cry from her.

"Ow Erik, that hurts.." Obviously not enough since seconds later she was back to doing her job.

Now he was annoyed. He didn't even know why he bothered coming in here with her. He wasn't feeling it anymore and he just wanted to go for a drive, maybe stop by a place that he hadn't been in a couple of days. But he couldn’t pass up on some quick head so he sat back and let her do her thing, calling her out her name and holding her head in place so he could fuck her mouth. He ignored her hands trying to push against his thighs and watery eyes, his dick staying in the back of her throat as he fed her, dick draining his kids into her mouth before letting her go. With a deep sigh, he leaned back against the bed and relaxed. Tae quietly walked off to the adjoining bathroom, the water running filling the relatively quiet room except for the heavy bass vibrating through the walls. A few minutes later she was back, a warm feeling casing his dick as she wiped him carefully, planting a kiss on his head when she was done.

“You must’ve really missed me huh? That was a big one.”

Erik ignored her question, raising from the bed and setting his cup on the dresser before pulling back up his clothes, Ferragamo belt buckled as he checked himself out in the mirror quickly. He chugged the alcohol down, discarding his cup back on the dresser for her to clean up.

“You know, you could visit me at school sometimes. My roommates are always out so we could have the place to ourselves. I hate that we only see each other when I come back home.” She shuffled out the door behind him, huffing when she realized she was being ignored.

Before they could reach the main area where the party was being held, he turned around and backed her into the wall. She looked up at him with desire in her eyes, hands smoothing his shirt across his chest as she eagerly waited for him to continue. Erik knew the hold he had over her, he could throw her to the side and she’d still come running back. Some would say he was trash for playing with her heart, but Tae knew what it was and she could make her own choices. Since she was going to be around for a couple of days, he wanted to keep things between them on a good note. He was way overdue for a good fuck and wanted to hit it at least twice before she went back to campus. He looked at her for a moment, her eyes slightly wet and still red from her tears earlier.

“How long you gon’ be in town again?”

“Until Tuesday. That gives us four whole days to do whatever we want. I could come over one day, maybe cook for you?”

Yeah, that wasn’t about to happen, but Erik wasn’t that much of an asshole to turn her down so bluntly at her own party. He just rose his brows, acting like he was thinking it over before shrugging, letting her know that he’d think about it. As he walked away, he knew the only way they were gonna meet up was if he came to her place. No one knew where he stayed except for family and those he considered family, and he was trying to keep it that way. He really just wanted to know how many days he had left until he could link up with you. With Tae in town, it would be next to impossible so he had to play it smart. He didn’t want you knowing about her and damn sure didn’t want her knowing about you.

The house party had got crowded in the time they were away, more bodies littering the living room and kitchen. Erik made his way through the few people standing in the hallway, head turning slightly to his left when he saw some new people that wasn’t there when he came. It was a couple of girls and he didn’t really pay them any attention until a certain one caught his eye. Her hair was down in front of her face, slightly hiding her from his view. She looked good from the side, not as dolled up as the rest of the females surrounding her, but that just made her stand out more. He liked that she wasn’t trying too hard, she was just chillin’. Oversized baby blue t-shirt, black biker shorts and some Jordan 1 UNC patents on her feet. He nodded his head to himself, silently approving her fit.

Fly lil thing. Ass fat too.

If it wasn’t for Tae on his heels, then he would’ve tried to shoot his shot. Just as he was about to keep it pushing, Tae’s loud shrieking made his face screw up as he looked back her, confused at her loud ass outburst. She told him to wait there for her and brushed past him, running up to the new group and wrapping her arms around their shoulders. He begrudgingly listened, hands stuffed in his jean pockets as he looked on. She turned around and skipped over to him, wrapping her hands around his forearm and pulling him over to where she was once standing.

“Guys, this is Erik. Erik, these are my friends from school.”

He nodded his head and went to reply until baby blue turned her head in his direction, the room around him pausing briefly as his eyebrows lowered in confusion before raising in disbelief.

The last thing you expected was to see Erik at Tae's party.

Tae had invited you about a week or so ago, along with a few others girls from your sociology class. She was having it at her cousin's apartment, which was where she stayed when she wasn't on campus, and made sure to make all the girls promise that they would come. Claims of it being the best party you’d ever go to and not wanting to come off rude, you decided to go. You could tell early on that keeping up with appearances was a big deal for her. You couldn't recall a day where she wasn't looking her best or even seemed stressed. How she did it? It was above you. There were moments where you saw the real her, but they were few and far between. Whenever she would realize she was dropping this 'confident bad bitch' persona she liked to put on, she would quickly tighten up and go back to being the girl everyone knew her as. On campus, she was the IT girl. Guys wanted her, girls either wanted to be her or fight her. She was one of those people that you would rather have as a friend than an enemy for sure. So you knew you had to show your face, she’d feel some type of way if you didn’t.

You didn't know if you should say hi to Erik or not with the way Tae was holding onto him. It was very territorial and knowing her, she wouldn't appreciate the fact that you two already knew each other. The girls all said hi after she introduced him, yours coming out a little later than everyone else's as you looked at him a little confused. Were they dating? He hadn't pushed her off or said anything since she brought him over and with the way she was going on and on about him, they obviously had some type of relationship. He nodded his head and mumbled a low "wassup" back, his eyes passing over your classmates before resting back on you. So this was why you hadn't seen him lately. He was spending all his time with her.

"You guys having a good time? Happy you came?" Tae smiled brightly, eagerly looking at you all and waiting for a response.

"It's lit, your cousin is so cool for letting you have it at her place." "Girl duh and you got some fine ass friends, introduce me to some." "Hell yes. If not, I would've been stuck in the house being bored." Everyone spoke over one another.

She nodded her head, catching on that you hadn't spoke yet and looked at you, raising her eyebrow.

"It's great." You smiled brightly. "I’m happy I came."

"Uh, I'm so happy you guys are having a good time. Well, I need to go make a couple more rounds. Someone here was occupying my time and I couldn't say hi to everyone." The smirk she threw Erik when she looked up at him had your eyes desperately wanting to roll, but you stopped yourself.

There was no reason for you to be mad. It's not like you guys were close friends or anything. He was just a regular that you'd ring up. The same regular that made it a routine to walk you home from work. The same regular that had been introducing you to some of the best food spots that you ever could've imagined. You couldn't even begin to think about all the good food that you'd scarfed down in the past week. Either way, it was obvious that the Erik standing before you and the Erik at those times were different people. You could feel his energy and it wasn't the same sweet flirty one that you were used to. Instead, he had this confident air that was clouding over him and you would've thought it was attractive if it wasn't for him standing next to Tae.

You all nodded and told her you'd catch up afterwards, your eyes not bothering to look back at the man before you started to make your way into the kitchen. A red solo cup later, you were perched on one of the barstools and listening to some funny story that Marissa was telling, or at least trying to. From where you were sitting, you could see Erik and Tae perfectly. She was sitting on his lap as she talked to some people, his hand on the couch armrest before she was pulling it around her. He kept his arm around her waist, his head slowly looking around the apartment until he was looking at you. Making eye contact was inevitable, since you were too slow to look away or play off your obvious staring. You gave him a small smile, the corner of your lip raising quickly before going back down. He returned it, eyes casting downward before he was turning back to those around him.

The next hour and a half flew by. The company of your friends mixed with some of your favorite songs and a funny ass dance battle between some guys had you enjoying yourself. Somehow you ended up joining a group of people playing Never Have I Ever and you felt a little left out as everyone knocked back shots while you just held yours. The questions started off fun, but quickly turned sexual, making your lack of experience obvious when you could do nothing but watch everyone drink. You lied on a few, and laughed off others, all while unknowingly being watched. When you realized it was around 1:30 am, you decided it was time to dip. It was pretty late and you had work tomorrow, along with an essay to type up. You didn't want to regret it in the morning, so you bid your friends a goodbye and promised to text them when you made it home.

As you got up and hugged them all, you made eye contact with Erik’s back as he laughed loudly at something. Surprisingly you didn’t spot Tae anywhere near him. You didn't really want to talk to him, annoyed that he hadn't spoken to you the entire night and instead decided to stick to Tae as if he was on a leash. It seemed like he was fine when it came to walking you home in the dead of night, but couldn’t be bothered with a simple “how are you?” now. You couldn’t even lie to yourself and say this was shocking. This wasn’t the first time a guy had ignored you around his friends and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

The walk home was going to take you about 15 minutes, which wasn’t too bad you guessed. It was late so the sun was long gone now and there’d be a nice breeze to accompany you. You had your little pepper spray if anything went down and a baby taser your Uncle pretty much forced you to carry. Exiting out the building, the lights from neighboring apartments and the corner stores kept the block lit for you. You were happy that you decided to get out a little, but couldn’t deny that being alone was ten times better. You could finally breathe and walk freely without worrying about bumping into somebody or vice versa.

After 6 blocks, you were starting to feel the repercussions of walking in shoes that weren’t broken in. Your heel was starting to throb, but you did your best to ignore it and adjusted your bag over your shoulder. The sounds of cars here and there weren’t out of norm, but you started to get nervous when you realized that one was driving suspiciously slow for no good reason. You hadn’t been paying attention so you had no clue how long they’d been there, but as you heard the slow and steady rumble of the engine trail behind you, you began to wish you had stayed at the party. Or at least gotten an Uber. Nonetheless, you kept walking and looking forward. It wasn’t until you stopped to let a car pass that a deep voice met your ears.

“You know I could’ve kidnapped your ass if I really wanted to right?”

You clicked your tongue, head shaking slowly as you recognized who it was. Of course it was him. With your arms crossed over your chest, you turned your body towards the car and slowly walked over. This was the first time you had actually seen it and it actually fit him, intimidating and sexy. You held back your smile as you watched him tilt his head at you, before knocking his head back, inviting you to get in without words. As much as you wanted to, thoughts of him and Tae together held you in place. They had something going on, you were sure of it, so you didn’t want to continue getting too close to him just to end up with your feelings hurt. You were also still salty that this was the first time he was speaking to you this night.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to Tae’s? I’m sure she’s probably wondering where you went.”

“Who says she doesn’t know already?”

“Based on the fact that she wouldn’t let you out her sight, I highly doubt that.”

Before Erik could respond, his phone started ringing. As he was going to answer it, he whispered a quick "get in" that you didn't obey. You could tell he was getting annoyed, but it was funny watching him roll his eyes like a spoiled child. The noise around you guys unfortunately prevented you from hearing his conversation, so you were stuck using your context clues to figure out what was going on.

"Sup?"

"My bad bro, I had to dip out real quick. Something came up."

His thumb pointed towards the passenger seat and you shook your head, amused as he sucked his teeth and sat back. He stared at you as he continued to talk and you tried your best to look everywhere but him. At the stop light, at the LED open signs that blinked in the business windows, even at the empty trash bag that was currently rolling down the sidewalk. Literally anything to stop your eyes from landing on him.

"Catch a fucking Uber my nigga, the fuck?"

"Not tonight. I got important shit to handle. I'll hit you tomorrow."

From your peripheral, you watched him hang up and stick his hand out the window, reaching for you. He was definitely trying to be cute, small pout on his face as his fingers finally brushed against your arm.

"Why you playing hard to get?"

"I'm not. I'm just trying to figure out why you're so adamant about me getting in your car when I'm literally like 5 blocks from my place."

"A lot can happen in 5 blocks and if you don't get in, I'm just gonna follow you the rest of the way."

"That's really ... stalkerish."

"I don't care." He said bluntly, shrugging his shoulders.

After some time, you finally listened and got inside. Deep down you wanted to hop in as soon as you saw him, but you wanted to see if he was gonna be persistent. His eyes followed you as you slipped inside, purse now in your lap as you protectively held it against you. It was being lifted off you and onto the floor with a huff seconds later, Erik’s hand pulling the seatbelt around you, unaware of how his knuckles were brushing against your breasts. He was too busy going on about how you shouldn't be walking late at night to notice. You stayed quiet, stomach now in knots as he tried to find the buckle that your thighs were hiding. You lifted up some, assisting him and trying not to overthink when you felt his hands on your hips. Finally he clicked it in and you were able to breath, relaxing into the seat as he took the car out of park and rolled up to the now red light.

"So, what important shit do you have to handle?" You questioned innocently.

"You."

* * * * *

taglist: those below are people that asked to be tagged, i saw in my notes on part 1/2 or mutuals :). if you don’t wanna be tagged in future updates then please let me know!

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @erikaintdead @chaneajoyyy @james-heaven-barnes @iamrheaspeaks @raysunshine78 @kimpossible1977 @twistedcharismaaa @janelledarling @thadelightfulone @thehomierobbstark @purple-apricots @yoyolovesbucky @journeytomeee @wakanda-inspired @l-auteuse @ghostfacekill-monger @hidden-treasures21 @eye-raq @enigmaticaphrodite @junesbride @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @werkoutbliss @imagine-n-shit @honeytoffee @michaelsgoldengurl @theblackblackwidow @destinio1 @eriksprincess @blowmymbackout @melaninmarvelgirl62 @savagescorpion @blackgirlreadsfanfic @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @vikkidc @maddiestundentwritergaines

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beca-mitchell · 5 years ago

Text

we are the wild youth (3/5)

chapter 3: it's been so damn hard on my own

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Chapter summary: In an extremely shocking twist, Beca realizes that she had been falling for Chloe all this time.

Again, rated M/E for depictions and references to coitus. Chapter also has references to deaths of family members.

Chapter title is from A R I Z O N A’s “Let Me Know”.

Now there’s an “EP”/playlist!

Word count: 5,574

Read below or on AO3.

It is the morning that follows, a sleepy, cold morning, that Beca gets that long-awaited email from her boss. It is an email telling her that his contact in New York pulled through.

Beca is wide awake.

Sammy ended up sending his contact some of Beca’s original stuff, finally deeming it ‘good enough’ to be viable, and well—

A job opportunity—no, better. A job offer at a record label as a junior producer.

She finally gets to leave. She’s going to leave once she graduates and she’s going to finally pursue her dreams.

She drops her arm back onto the bed, suddenly more conscious and aware of her other arm, trapped beneath Chloe’s body as she snoozes next to her. Beca ends up lying awake until Chloe slowly awakens as well, stretching contentedly like a cat in sunshine against Beca’s side. There is a distinct youthfulness to Chloe’s features this early in the morning, Beca thinks—like for once Chloe isn’t plagued by her past, her present, or future.

“What?” Beca asks when Chloe stares at her with a content, sleepy expression on her face. It makes Beca nervous, but she can’t pinpoint why.

“Nothing,” Chloe says finally and instead surges up to press a deep, wanting kiss against Beca’s lips, eviscerating all other wake-up calls Beca has ever received in her life.

— — x — —

“I have a question,” Chloe says as they mull over formulas, proofs, and endless all-day breakfast at Carl’s later that day.

Without looking up, Beca sighs. “Chloe we just went over basic derivatives and you definitely—”

Chloe’s hand comes up to still Beca’s hand. Beca freezes.

“Do you and um,” Chloe hesitates. It’s the first time, really, that Beca has seen Choe somewhat flustered or nervous. Chloe seems to steel herself. “Do you and that uh, Jesse kid have like...a thing going on?”

It’s clear that this has been bothering Chloe to some extent, if the furrow in her brow and the questioning tilt in her eyes are anything to go by. If Beca weren’t mulling over how cute Chloe looked right then, she’d have burst out laughing right away. That being said, her laugh comes out short and delayed and entirely too awkward for her to really save anything about the situation.

Chloe is evidently taken aback and she leans back in the booth and crosses her arms, their homework forgotten. “I’m serious,” Chloe says, verging very close to a pout.

“I’m serious too,” Beca says, still laughing. “Where the fuck did you get that from?”

“I don’t know, you guys just seem…” Chloe bites her lip, looking more attractive than she has any right to be. “Close.”

“That’s what you get when a guy like Jesse forces his way into your life and somehow sticks around for three and a half years.”

“Is that what I did?” Chloe asks, her tone decidedly different from just a few moments ago. “Force my way into your life.”

"No," Beca says immediately.

It's something closer to fate. Maybe destiny.

But it's not like those things are real anyway, so Beca can't really do much than meet Chloe's questioning gaze head-on.

— — x — —

Chloe just checking that we’re ok Bec?

A part of Beca threatens to burst—like she could really just spill everything she’s been feeling to Chloe right then and there. Her fingers long to type out an excessively long message, just to get her point across and just to expunge all of the emotions she currently feels.

Like the emotions dangerously resembling a dumb, gross crush on Chloe Beale.

She's sure Chloe knows by now. Chloe is the kind of girl who knows these things, likely from experience. Even more likely that she just has a better grasp on other people's emotions compared to Beca's own emotional bandwidth.

Beca Yeah, we’re ok

"God, she definitely knows," Beca mumbles.

Chloe and you’re still coming for dinner w/ my parents?

There it is.

Beca swallows, having momentarily forgotten about it. She isn’t sure why the nerves seem to bubble up in her more than they normally would.

Beca Yeah

It isn’t like Chloe is her girlfriend and she’s meeting her parents for the first time. Just her tutoring subject. Beca is a tutor first and foremost.

Nothing wrong with that.

She’ll just make sure to maintain some distance between now and then.

— — x — —

So it turns out that distance is good, but Beca hadn’t thought about how distance would be completely eviscerated considering she is quite literally at Chloe’s parents’ house. Distance should be good. Or it would be if Beca weren’t such a chump and ringing the doorbell to Chloe’s massive house. Her father’s massive house.

Beca always thought her own father had a big house, but she supposes when Chloe’s father is a doctor-doctor, there’s a little bit more money than an English professor. Like a literal real doctor who has probably saved lives. That’s more than Beca can say about her father and his books.

She’s never going to give her father trouble for the size of his house again.

Chloe greets her at the door with a relieved expression. “I’m glad you came!” Chloe exclaims. She reaches out for Beca’s hand and laces their fingers together. The shock of holding Chloe’s hand makes Beca’s reply come in a lame, delayed fashion.

“You were the one who invited me,” Beca says quickly. “Of course I was going to come.”

“I know you were thinking of standing me up,” Chloe singsongs, still holding on to Beca’s hand as she drags her through a massive foyer and into the kitchen.

Beca can’t really say anything to that because it’s kind of true. She had been thinking about that, even though each instance of that thought sent sweeping guilt through her chest.

Chloe’s hand is soft and warm, unlike Beca’s cold, clammy hand. It feels nice. That’s kind of true, too.

“I’m glad you came,” Chloe repeats, more sincere than she had been at the door, not that Beca thought that was even possible. “I just...my dad’s been a lot recently. The lab is kind of struggling with funding so...yay,” she drawls. “And um,” Chloe’s eyebrows draw together. “Nothing, nevermind.”

Beca, knowing only vague things about Chloe’s father’s business, shrugs. “I’m sure it’s...it’s not as bad as you think and there isn’t anything to worry about.” She nudges Chloe. “And you’re set to take over eventually, aren’t you?”

Chloe’s expression shifts marginally before she composes herself and she shrugs. “I guess so, it’s just—” Chloe cuts herself off and sighs, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”

Before Beca can inquire more into that, soft footsteps sound behind her. “Oh,” a woman’s voice sounds from behind them. “I didn’t realize we had a guest.”

Chloe sighs and turns to face who Beca assumes to be her mother. “Mom, I told you I was inviting Beca over for dinner because dad wanted to meet her.”

Her mother smiles faintly. “That’s nice, dear. Nice to meet you, Becky.” She reaches for a wine glass from the cupboard. “I hope you like steak.”

“I do,” Beca says as pleasantly as she can, not bothering to correct her.

“Chloe, if you can, dear, please run and buy a couple bottles of red before dinner. We’re running low. You’ll indulge, won’t you, Becky?”

Before Beca can fully nod or respond, Chloe’s hand comes to grip her wrist again. Beca clamps her mouth shut and instead watches on silently as Chloe’s mother shuffles away again, humming to herself.

A million questions run through Beca’s mind. She had been under the assumption that Chloe’s mother was a researcher of some kind—another powerful figure in the medical field. It was essentially a well-known fact that Chloe had been born into all kinds of privilege, intelligence and money being only two of them.

It seemed that a stable family life was not on the table.

“Are you okay?” Beca asks instead of the million other questions she wants to ask. It comes out softer than she intends. More delicate.

Chloe nods, but otherwise doesn’t respond before turning to face Beca again.

“It’s just hard being twenty-five and all of…” she gestures vaguely around the kitchen. “This.”

“Are we going to go to the store?” Beca asks hesitantly.

Chloe bites her lip. “You think I shouldn’t,” she assesses. Correctly, too.

“Chloe, it’s—” none of my business “—up to you. I’ll just do whatever you want me to do.”

The more serious conversation that needs to be had likely doesn’t involve Beca at all, if Chloe’s mother has an alcoholism problem. She feels badly enough that Chloe has to go through this on top of likely being embarrassed that Beca saw anything at all.

“Is it weird that I kind of wish we were studying right now instead of this?” Chloe asks, sounding more cheerful than the expression on her face belies.

It isn’t weird at all, Beca thinks. “Show me your room,” Beca suggests instead of the thousands of more appropriate things she could possibly say at that moment.

It seems to do the trick however because Chloe smiles.

— — x — —

“How is tutoring going, Beca?”

Beca struggles to swallow the huge gulp of water she had just taken while maintaining eye contact with Chloe’s intimidating father. “It’s…” she clears her throat. “It’s going well.”

“And Chloe isn’t giving you any trouble?’

Beca glances at Chloe who has gone rather still. “No, she’s been a model student.”

To Beca’s surprise, he scoffs. Chloe continues to say nothing, but begins to push her food around her plate. “Can you believe that she’s been in school for seven years and she still doesn’t have a degree to show for it? And to think that she graduated high school early. All that potential...”

It’s the beginning of a rant if Beca’s ever heard one. Beca blinks back the sudden sharp sting she feels behind her eyes, the hurt she suddenly feels on Chloe’s behalf. “That really doesn’t mean anything,” she says before she can stop herself. She glances at Chloe’s mother who has not said a word. She merely swirls her wine glass and gazes despondently at her own plate.

Dr. Beale’s gaze cuts to her and she quickly looks back down, feeling chastised. “Your father is a professor, is he not?”

“Yes,” Beca says to her plate.

“He worked hard to get to where he is, didn’t he?”

“I’m sure he did, but—”

“And I guess he doesn’t want you wasting your time. He doesn’t want you wasting your life. You’re set to graduate aren’t you?”

“Uh, I—”

“Wish I could say the same for Chloe here,” he says lightly like he’s sharing a splendid joke. Beca clenches her fist in her lap.

Chloe sighs loudly.

“You know, Chloe,” Chloe’s father says, swirling his glass. Whiskey, probably, Beca notes. “If you tried a little more, maybe you wouldn’t be such a fucking disappointment.”

Beca startles at that, not expecting such harsh words in such a calm tone. She looks up hesitantly, eyes flicking back and forth between Chloe and her father. It almost feels like she had imagined the moment because Chloe continues to move food around on her plate and her father continues to hold his gaze intently on the side of his daughter’s head, arched eyebrow and a precariously-held glass of amber liquid to the side.

It’s surreal to say the least. Beca would have never imagined this moment happening.

“It’s literally just two classes, Chloe,” her father continues. “Two classes and you can stop sucking money out of us like a damn leech and actually do something worthwhile with your life. You already have a damn job ready for you, but you refuse to step up to just take it.”

It’s hard to imagine that these words are coming from the mouth of the man who had been such a generous giver to their school—the same that many students aspired to be. Atlanta, while not small or tucked away by any measure, was still no New York or Los Angeles. Yet thousands of students still flocked to their school and city for this very reason. This man, berating his daughter in full view of his daughter’s tutor.

Beca swallows.

Beca tries not to think about Chloe’s bright smile, helping children through dance steps at the studio.

She tries not to think about it because this isn’t any of her business. She tries not to think about it because she’s just a tutor.

A friend, maybe. A tutor, definitely.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe says quietly, a far cry from every version of Chloe Beale that Beca has been privy to thus far.

Chloe’s mother sniffs at her glass—white wine—and sighs before taking a long drink.

Beca isn’t supposed to be privy to this at all, she’s sure of it. She isn’t supposed to feel so fiercely protective over a student she’s meant to take money from so she can finally get out of this town. So she can finally move to New York. So she can finally make music which people care about.

She isn’t meant to care about what Chloe thinks of her music—isn’t meant to feel guilty for taking money for a job she does well.

This is all temporary.

— — x — —

When Chloe texts her to meet her at the diner, Beca heaves a breath. She thought Chloe was hellbent on ignoring her after that episode at Chloe’s house—horribly awkward and horribly tense. Chloe hadn’t spoken to her the rest of the time in her bedroom while they worked through a calculus assignment...except when she had quietly asked Beca if she wanted to have sex.

Beca had politely declined, not really feeling like taking advantage of Chloe in her state, but Chloe’s lackluster response, her quiet acquiescence, had been enough for Beca to quickly pack her things up.

Before she left, she hovered awkwardly by Chloe’s shoulder and felt like she ought to kiss her on the head or hug her.

Instead of doing either of those things, she had squeezed Chloe’s shoulder and half-heartedly murmured a goodbye with the promise to text her to set up another session.

And it ended up being Chloe who texted first anyway.

Now, sitting in front of Chloe, Beca realizes that she had missed her over the past few days. The past few days of not seeing Chloe’s infuriatingly innocent smile (a smile usually paired with something suggestive—suggestive enough to make Beca balk and completely fumble with her pen) had taken more of a toll on Beca than she expected.

It was because she was invested in Chloe as her student. Her tutor-subject-person. That was it.

“Hi,” Beca greets when Chloe takes out a novel and her notebook. “Are we...what are we doing today?”

“I thought we could just have breakfast for dinner,” Chloe says simply. “Then you can pretend like you enjoy tutoring me.”

It’s said so lightly and casually that Beca almost doesn’t catch it. “Hey,” she says finally. “That’s not true. I don’t pretend like I enjoy doing anything.”

Chloe relaxes and giggles. “Sorry, I just…” she sighs and shrugs off her leather jacket. Beca tries not to look at her bare shoulders. “It’s been a lot. With...you know. Especially around this time of year.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Beca says.

And with that, they don’t speak, at least for a little while. Beca orders a burger and coke because it amuses her to see Chloe’s furrowed brow when she chastises Beca for not ordering breakfast as per ‘tradition’ at the diner. Chloe orders a stack of pancakes bigger than her head.

It is not until Chloe is halfway through the pancakes and Beca is halfway through looking at Chloe’s recent homework assignment that Chloe speaks again.

“I had an older brother,” Chloe says quietly.

It is absolutely not what Beca expected to hear. The word choice isn’t lost on Beca. She slowly puts down her pencil and watches Chloe from across the booth.

“Okay,” she murmurs, gently as to not scare Chloe off.

“I...his name was James, but I called him Jamie. I guess most people did, except dad. And mom when she was mad at him.” A thought seems to bring a smile to Chloe’s face. A fond memory, Beca hopes.

A part of her wants to reach out to hold Chloe’s hand, but the more rational part tells her that Chloe would more than likely shut down if she did that. She sits on her hands to resist the temptation.

“I...we were close,” Chloe continues before clearing her throat. “I don’t know, I guess he kind of accepted that he would always work for dad’s clinic. He was in his second year of med school when he…” Chloe hums, looking thoroughly embarrassed at her own tears and hastily averts eye contact with Beca. “It was an accident. I was almost done with my last year here. I’ve felt stuck this whole time.”

What did you want to do? Beca longs to ask, she doesn’t get the chance. The words die in her throat when Chloe looks back up at her.

“I don’t want to work for my father,” Chloe murmurs. “He’s not the best person but I know he’s still family. I just...I can’t do it. I can’t see myself giving up my life like that. But not doing what Jamie was working towards feels like cheating his memory a little. Even though I know he wouldn’t have wanted that for me either.” Chloe laughs hollowly. “With how many extra years I’ve taken on here, I could have two degrees. But I just don’t…” Her voice cracks. “I don’t know how to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Beca says when she realizes Chloe is spent. “I...don’t know what to say. I didn’t know about your brother. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t really talk about it,” Chloe admits. “Aubrey knew because we were best friends when it happened, then she graduated and I guess I just...didn’t. It’s been a few years, but I still think about it. I guess I can’t forget about things as easily as my parents can.”

“I’m sure they didn’t forget about him,” Beca tries to say, but her voice feels weak and unused.

“Well, they’re doing a good job of making it seem that way.” She smiles wryly. “Didn’t see any family photos in my house, did you?”

Beca shakes her head, mouth too dry to speak. She wants to do nothing more than to slide into the seat next to Chloe and hold her—to at least sap some hurt away for the time being even if temporary solutions are barely sufficient for something like this.

Beca conceptually understands that people deal with grief differently, but the cold air in the Beale house had been unmistakable and immediately-apparent. She doesn’t say as much however because Chloe is right and nothing more needs to be said.

“Chloe,” Beca murmurs instead. She has no words, not really. It’s clear that Chloe is hurting—or had been at least. This impromptu study session in the dingy 24-hour diner just off-campus isn’t quite turning out how Beca initially expected.

Chloe shrugs. “I don’t...expect you to say anything. I know I’ve been kind of sucky the past few weeks and...I didn’t want you to think that it was…” Chloe licks her lips nervously, finally meeting Beca’s eyes. “Well...nothing that you did.”

Beca smiles at Chloe’s attempt to comfort her when it definitely ought to be the other way around. How are you real? She thinks to herself in wonder. “Want to know a secret?” Chloe nods, a curious look finding its way across her face. “I totally know you’ve been faking it, you know.” At Chloe’s incredibly confused expression, Beca fumbles with her napkin. “Not—not like that. I know you’re uh. Not. Faking that.”

“All those smarts and you can’t even say sex.”

“I meant,” Beca continues, pushing through the hot flush that burns across her cheeks. “That I know you’re faking this whole...not knowing calculus thing.”

Chloe smirks. “What gave it away?” she asks, the air between them losing some of the heavy feeling and tension.

Beca relaxes. Grades and homework, she knows more about. How to deal with Chloe flirting with her? Not so much. “Just...the blatantly wrong way you go about writing out some proofs. It really takes somebody who knows what’s going on to get every step wrong. Or, you know, getting all the steps right but getting the final answer wrong.”

Chloe casually leans up to flick some hair out of her eyes, taking the opportunity to swipe at her own eyes as discreetly as possible. Beca pretends not to notice and looks intently into her glass of Coke as the moment passes.

“Okay, fine,” Chloe concedes. Beca glances up to see that Chloe looks entirely too pleased with herself. “But the sex is still good, right?”

— — x — —

Yes, the sex is still good, Beca thinks. If thoughts could breathless, that’s exactly what’s happening in Beca’s mind as Chloe’s tongue does sinful things between her legs.

If somebody were to tell Beca when she entered college that she would thoroughly enjoy having a girl’s tongue between her legs, flicking incessantly at her aching clit, she would have run away screaming. Or at least blushed furiously to the point of passing out.

Now, she still feels on the verge of passing out, but for entirely different reasons. Better reasons. Now, she can’t imagine doing anything but tightening her grip in Chloe’s hair and keeping a steady enough hold so that Chloe can’t stop.

Not that it seems like Chloe has any plans on stopping. Her hands grip Beca’s hips with near-bruising force as she presses Beca’s hips down into the mattress.

“So good,” Beca chokes out, trying to loosen some of the pressure in her chest. Another moan escapes her and as if the sound pleases Chloe, she hums, circling Beca’s clit once with a precise tongue before latching on with her lips and sucking.

Beca cries out, arching her back against the pressure and comes hard against Chloe’s lips, tongue—her wonderful, wonderful mouth.

When she regains some semblance of sanity, she opens her eyes to Chloe smiling at her, glistening chin and all.

“You’re so good at that,” Beca murmurs lazily. “I want to be good at that for you,” she says before she can stop herself. Words keep slipping out of her mouth at an alarming frequency these days.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll teach you,” Chloe promises. “Later,” she murmurs, leaning down to capture Beca’s mouth in a lazy kiss. Her hand skates down the flat planes of Beca’s stomach, taking its time.

Later, Beca thinks when Chloe pushes two fingers into her. Later sounds perfect.

— — x — —

Somewhere down the line, Beca realizes the devastating truth that Chloe might actually be one of her closest friends. Jesse’s still there, sure, but everybody’s gearing up to leave. Beca wants to go to New York. Jesse wants to go to Los Angeles.

Everybody leaves eventually.

But somehow time feels like it doesn’t quite exist when she’s lying in her cramped bed with Chloe by her side, calculus all but forgotten.

“My mom died when I was a kid,” Beca murmurs, leaning up on her elbow so she can see the invisible figures she’s tracing on Chloe’s back.

Chloe’s eye cracks open, visible just barely beneath a mess of tangled, red curls. She sucks in a breath, but says nothing more, so Beca continues.

“I don’t really remember her. I mean, I guess I do. I have these memories of my favorite hugs. A soothing voice. But it never really feels tangible.”

Chloe rolls over slowly, breathing steadily as she continues listening intently. Beca feels nervous suddenly. “I’m not...I guess I was just thinking about what you told me about your brother. And I’m not trying to say I know exactly how you feel, but it’s just...I do get it.”

“You do get it,” Chloe whispers in agreement. Her eyes look softer than usual. “I...thank you for telling me. I’m sorry that you lost your mom.”

“I don’t think we ever really know how to deal with grief,” Beca explains quickly. But it helps having other people to share it with. “But I just thought I’d share that too. Not to, um, take away from your...pain, but just...”

As always, it seems like Chloe fares better with words than Beca does. “We don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to,” Chloe says gently. “But I don’t mind hearing more about her.”

Beca sucks in a breath. Chloe looks incredibly young then. Like all the world’s traumas have lifted from her shoulders in that moment—that moment of her extending her hand to Beca in a show of support. It makes Beca giddy with a kind of childlike delight, but also sweeping pain. As the two emotions war within her, she can do nothing more than to reach out and hold Chloe’s hand—figuratively, but she does reach out to brush an errant strand of hair from Chloe’s face.

“I know talking helps,” Chloe continues when she realizes Beca is yet to speak. “Not letting their memories fade away. I don’t...want that to happen to me. And I don’t want that to happen to you.”

I wish I knew you back then, Beca thinks forlornly. Three years ago. Two years ago. Any time but now, when their time is so limited.

“Okay,” Beca agrees quietly, already slipping into a sleeping state.

You are so much more than you know.

“You make me better,” Chloe murmurs. “I hope you know that.”

— — x — —

Jesse Movie night w/ Amy? Benji had to bail

Beca Ugh fine

Jesse Bring your girlfriend

Beca My what?????

Jesse Chloe?

Beca What the fuck, she’s not my gf

Beca Shut up, i can hear your smirk But shes really not, jesse i swear

Beca ok i can literally hear you laughing across the library idiot

— — x — —

Fat Amy Bumper told me tell you that jesse told him that you have a gf and you’re not sharing her with the rest of us

Fat Amy Is she that super hot chick you’ve been tutoring and totally-not-at-all sleeping with?

Fat Amy Beca???

— — x — —

Maybe they are kind of dating—kind of, sort of dating. Beca’s sure unlabeled things are all the rage these days.

(“All the rage?” Beca asks. “Who says that?”

Chloe scowls at her, somehow making the unpleasant expression more pleasant than it ought to be on anybody’s face. “Shut up, I’m studying.”)

But, the fact of the matter is: They’re not dating. They’re not dating, which is why Beca agrees to go with Chloe to an end-of-semester party. Exams are almost entirely over and Beca’s confident Chloe passed this time around.

The shift between them and in Chloe’s general attitude are stark changes. Beca would have to be blind not to notice.

But the fact is, she isn’t blind. She can’t be, not when Chloe makes her want to pay more attention than ever.

Though sometimes she kind of loses track of Chloe - where Chloe loses herself in her own her head, or loses herself to the masses. It’s hard, crushing on Chloe Beale, only daughter of Doctor Richard Beale, an incredibly intelligent and powerful medical researcher with his own medical research corporation to boot.

It’s hard, knowing all of that weighs on Chloe’s shoulders and Chloe seems to want no part of it.

But tonight, Beca loses Chloe at a literal party, which would be funny if Beca’s own heart weren’t doing that super weird pounding thing.

She’s nervous.

Beca finds Chloe outside of all places. It is odd considering Chloe was the one who asked her to attend the party and then she had essentially hidden herself away.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Chloe, still leaning against the railing of the balcony, tilts her head back towards Beca. “I’ve been waiting for you to come find me.” She grins. “Gotcha.”

“Oh,” Beca drawls, feeling bold. It’s the alcohol coursing through her veins. It’s the brisk chill. It’s the high she gets from being near her crush. “So you planned this,” she continues, moving so she can stand just behind Chloe. She leans forward, letting her lips ghost the side of Chloe’s neck.

Chloe sighs, a happy little sound with only a tinge of melancholy. Beca draws back immediately, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. She drops to sit against the railing opposite Chloe. “I’ll just…”

“Don’t be.” Chloe twists to face her. “It’s really dumb, but I had a big crush on you for like...the entirety of my second senior year.”

Beca freezes. She gazes up at Chloe’s silhouette in the darkness. “You what?”

“I had a crush on you,” Chloe says simply.

“But why? And how?” And you had a crush on me? Past tense?

Chloe sighs. “I don’t know, I guess I had seen you around when you were a freshman, but I knew you better because we had the same Advanced Topics in Philosophy seminar that year. You did not strike me as a philosophy major.”

“I’m not,” Beca replies distractedly. Her brow furrows as she combs through her memory for some kind of enlightening flash of red in her mind’s eye. A memory of sorts.

“I sat like right at the back,” Chloe clarifies.

Beca scoffs. “So did I. I would have remembered you.”

Chloe looks exceptionally pleased at that. “You would have?”

“Obviously, I mean…” Beca gestures at her. She feels nervous suddenly, like the ground is shifting beneath her feet. “Look at you,” she mumbles quickly. “You’re gorgeous. And like...super hot.”

Chloe’s smile dims a little. “Haven’t I heard that before,” she mutters, turning away from Beca.

Beca scrambles from her seat, moving to where Chloe is standing by the railing. She feels numb, suddenly, like she’s missing something crucial. It’s hard to think with the budding headache she feels, the rush from standing up too fast, and the incessant music from the party going on behind them.

She reaches out to touch Chloe’s elbow before she really knows what she’s going to say. Chloe turns her head slightly to face her.

“You’re so pretty,” Beca murmurs, keeping her eyes trained on Chloe’s expression. “But—but—” she quickly reaches up with a trembling hand to cup Chloe’s jaw, the tender movement stunning Chloe into silence as she opens her mouth to protest. “You’re so much more than that. You’re kind and you’re special and I know you’re insanely smart even though you feel like you’re stuck in this…” Beca shrugs. “I would have remembered you.”

She isn’t sure how she gets through all that because her body feels kind of numb afterwards. She doesn’t have much of a chance to say anything more however because Chloe is turning and swiftly pulling her in for a soft, tender kiss. The way her lips brush against Beca’s so gently and slowly, despite the urgency Beca feels in the grip Chloe has on her waist.

“You drive me crazy,” Chloe murmurs, breath hot against her mouth. “You make me feel all these stupid things that I shouldn’t—not now when we’re—”

“Shh,” Beca shushes, pulling Chloe in again for another kiss. She is addicted to this woman, all professionalism be damned. “I just want to be with you.”

Beca has no idea where any of this is coming from, like all the unwritten lyrics she has to the songs that remind her of Chloe Beale. They well up inside her like the best and worst emotions, quickly spilling out into the world; quickly spilling into the minuscule spaces left between her and Chloe’s body.

Chloe whimpers into her mouth at that, immediately ramping up the intensity of her kisses. Tilting her head, her tongue glides delicately over Beca’s lower lip like a gentle request for entry. Beca can’t deny her, not once.

“I saw you once,” Beca murmurs, pushing back against Chloe’s chest slightly. Their breathing, labored, is loud and deafening against the ringing in Beca’s ears. “In my freshman year, at the activities fair.”

Chloe laughs, a sad, hollow laugh, and presses her forehead against Beca’s. “You should have said hello. I feel like you would have somehow made collegiate a cappella fun.”

“I was too intimidated. I’m still intimidated.”

“Don’t be,” Chloe urges, voice low and hoarse. “I...want you so much that it scares me. And I feel like such an idiot for not telling you sooner. I’ve never felt like this about anybody before.”

Beca inhales sharply, struck by the sudden force of Chloe’s words and the emotion behind them.

“Somewhere along the line I—”

Beca knows what Chloe will say. It unlocks a world of possibilities, each more uncalculated than the last. The possibilities, with Chloe, seem endless, but they are unexplored and untested. Unproven.

“Don’t,” Beca chokes out, cutting Chloe off before she can finish. “I can’t, not now.”

Chloe pulls her close, into a hug that Beca immediately sinks into. She sighs, head tucked against the crook of Chloe’s neck, feeling all kinds of warmth for the first time since December started.

“We’ll figure this out in the morning,” Chloe promises, voice thick with emotion.

Right, Beca muses as Chloe’s lips meet hers again. Because we have all the time in the world.

She really believes it.

/end ch. 3

#bechloe #pitch perfect #fanfiction #we are the wild youth #mine #my fanfic #text

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blackswaneuroparedux · 5 years ago

Text

penman47 asked: Your pages on Stirling Moss and Graham Hill have brought back fond memories of my passion for Formula 1 racing and the Grand Prix races from 1963 through1972. Mechanical failures often plagued Stirling Moss, Graham Hill and Jimmy Clark as man put machine to test. My question would be who of the three would come out on top driving the same mechanically perfect car at say the British Grand Prix Silverstone.

Thank you for your question @penman47

I received this question just before the sad news about the recent untimely death of the legendary Sir Stirling Moss. It feels prescient to respond now after a bit time to pass to reflect with a more sober perspective rather than let sentiment and emotion cloud any judgement.

In my family we are, it is fair to say, racing nuts. My grandfather had the racing bug and drove classic cars at amateur meets like Goodwood through his friendship with Freddie Richmond and was involved heavily in the RAC Club. He was fortunate to see all three of these racings icons race. He saw all of Jim Clark’s five victories at the British Grand Prix and regularly went to Monaco to see Graham Hill win there five times. He saw Stirling Moss race too and he was there for the Glover Trophy at Goodwood in 1962 when Stirling Moss had his career ending accident. Without taking anything away from the modern era drivers like Alain Prost, Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher, and Lewis Hamilton - all of whom he thinks are a credit to motor racing - he is very much of his era. As a proud Scots, he thinks Jim Clark was the best he ever saw.

My father got the racing bug too but was more of a Le Mans fan when he was growing up because spectators were closer to the action than F1. He had inherited and also built up his own classic car collection that he sometimes races at Goodwood. He was a wee laddie when he saw Clark and Hill race but he doesn’t fully recall because he was too young to fully remember. He loved watching James Hunt, Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost but had a grudging respect for Nikki Lauda. He never saw Stirling Moss race but knew him quite well through Goodwood and at the RAC Club in London. I know his head says Jim Clark but his heart says Stirling Moss was the best British driver.

For one of my older brothers, who has a thing for speed as I do, he was always a big Ayrton Senna fan. Again as a small boy he saw Ayrton Senna race and was part of the converted to consider him as the greatest driver of all time. Senna’s bravery was his own inspiration to take part in the Dakar Rally and other endurance races.

It’s indeed one of my unmet ambitions to ride in the Dakar Rally but it’s always been on the back burner. I would like to ride with my brother because he has the experience but he and I are too competitive and we would fight over who was the better driver - for the record, I know I am.

My mother - being Norwegian - is left to make dry sarcastic remarks about boys and toys whenever my grandfather, father and us siblings talked about racing. But she’s not immune to the glamour of F1 racing either. I’ve been told by my aunts that when my mother was at her Swiss boarding school, and later learning to be a ski instructor in the Alps, she would descend upon Monaco during the Grand Prix with her friends and enjoy the social side of racing i.e. the partying side of Formula One racing. But she’s quite buttoned up about her partying past. Meanwhile she and my other siblings continue roll their eyes when the subject of racing comes up.

But speaking for myself, speed has been my drug of choice and flying combat helicopters in the army for a time helped satiate that need. When I left I felt empty and bereft. But if flying single craft planes and gliders gives me weird sense of peace these days (when I can make the time to do so), I get a decent rush from riding motorbikes hard and fast on the open country roads (forget about the urban traffic congested cityscape). Racing the odd fast car I managed to get my hands on through pliant boyfriend or good friend has given me a brief thrill too but it’s been spoiled often with my driving companion screaming in my ear or pissing their pants as I take the turn hard. With my penchant for crashing - tsk, more like a graze - I’m not allowed any where near my father’s classic cars.

I have been to Grand Prix races, including ones at Silverstone, Spa-Francochamps, Singapore, Shanghai, Suzuka, Yas Marina, Monza, and Monaco, from the time I was at boarding school. I would either go as a guest of my grandfather or father or even with some school friends who lived in Monaco and had links to get entry into the drivers’ paddock. But these days it’s more likely because of wrangling a corporate hospitality invitation that I would have the chance to go - sometimes if I plan my calendar fortuitously and Lady Luck smiles upon me I can catch two birds with one stone e.g. do a business trip to Shanghai and stay on to see the Shanghai Grand Prix. So I follow racing avidly if I can. For me of course the amazing Lewis Hamilton is the driver of our generation along with Michael Schumacher’s imperious reign at the top. And I do like the cut of Max Verstappen’s gib too.

Of course it’s hard for me to credibly assess who was the better driver between Stirling Moss, Graham Hill, and Jim Clark because I wasn’t a direct witness but not many today were either. But I consider myself a racing fan and I have seen old footage. I have also read about the history of Grand Prix racing and listened to others whose expert views I respect. So I hope what I offer is just an educated opinion at the end of the day but I recognise the heart will come into it because racing - at least in the vintage years - was quite romantic even as it morphed into something more glamorous in later decades.

Anyway, your question just added more fuel to the fire in our family discussions over our recent Zoom calls.

I have to say upfront that I consider Jim Clark as the greatest British driver of all time. I’m with my grandfather on this one and I always enjoy playing contrarian to my father(!). But all things considered Jim Clark was on a different level to both Stirling Moss and Graham Hill. And why I think so I hope I can lay that case out below.

It’s important to put all three drivers in their racing context.

Firstly, they all didn’t race at their peak at the same time and in the case of Moss in a different era. But there was some overlap between Moss and Clark and Hill. Stirling Moss had active career from 1951-1961. Graham Hill had his active years between 1958 to 1975. And Jim Clark was only active for eight years from 196O to 1968.

Secondly, unless you’re a racing fan or have seen old film footage, it really is hard to convey to our present times just how dangerous driving was in that era. It was known as the Killer Years in Formula One history. Back in the days when the British government leached up to 97 per cent from a race driver’s income, a racer had at least a 40% chance of dying at the wheel, so tragedies were commonplace. Some prodded the tiger once too often and ran out of luck. It really is hard for us to fathom the extreme danger Grand Prix drivers put themselves under when they hared around the track as one mistake might well cost them their life or a body of broken bones.

And thirdly, it may sound simple to say this, but they drove extremely fast at very high speeds. The temptation again is to look at vintage racing cars in the light of modern super engineered racing cars and think they were easy to drive.

Few drivers in the history of motor sport can prove they’ve won the elusive Triple Crown. Only Graham Hill can. Formula One world champion in 1962 and 1968; winner of the 1966 Indianapolis 500; winner of the 1972 24 hours of Le Mans and five time Monaco GP winner. An incredible achievement that underlines the fact that Hill was one of the most complete drivers of his time. He was fast, but not the fastest. Talented, but not the most talented. The best, but not always and everywhere. Explosive, but predictable. Professional, but with enough self-mockery to pull his pants down at dinner parties, running up and down the tables. Hill drove his cars throughout the most dangerous years of the sport. Calmly and reserved, while he tried to fight off virtuoso's like Jim Clark, Jochen Rindt and Jackie Stewart.

When Stirling Moss drove on the track, he was there to race, not to eke out championship points. And to do it fast, faster than anyone else. For a driver whose competitive peak coincided with one of motor racing’s most dangerous periods when death regularly stalked all drivers, a time when average lap speeds escalated while safety precautions stood still, Moss’ courage and achievements were even more astonishing. Moss knew all about that: witness the serious leg injuries he suffered during practice for the 1960 Belgian Grand Prix, a race in which compatriots Chris Bristow and Alan Stacey both died, or the career-ending aftermath of his accident during the 1962 Glover Trophy at Goodwood.

But for his own unswerving sense of fair play, he could have pipped Mike Hawthorn to become Britain’s first world champion in 1958. Moss won four races to his rival’s one, but the latter benefited from greater reliability and consistency. The pivotal moment came in the Portuguese Grand Prix, from which Hawthorn was initially stripped of second place for receiving a push-start after slithering off the track. Moss was among those who came to his defence.

To this day Moss has won more world championship grands prix than any other driver never to have secured the championship, despite the ever-escalating number of such races. He has always maintained that he’d like to remembered as “a driver who preferred to lose while driving quickly than to win by driving slowly enough to get beaten”. For a few years, after the retirement of the great Juan Manuel Fangio in 1958, he was the finest and most famous racing driver in the world. He was so good that Ferrari not only wanted him to drive for them but were prepared to have the car painted blue, the team colour of his friend Rob Walker. And it is worth remembering that Enzo Ferrari rated Moss ahead of Fangio and placed him alongside Tazio Nuvolari. He is, perhaps then, the ultimate proof that raw racing statistics sometimes mean very little when you are natural racer.

Jim Clark’s raw racing statistics spoke volumes for his achievement and the astonishing records he set, a few of which still remain unsurpassed. More than that he has been hailed as one of the top three drivers of all time in any reputable survey. His achievements were a reflection of the awe and admiration many of his driving peers and others since his untimely tragic death have held about the man and the racer.

Clark began matching Stirling Moss’s speed in the second half of the 1961 season, and took over the Englishman’s mantle in 1962 when Moss was injured in a crash at Goodwood on Easter Monday. Clark narrowly lost the World Championship that year to BRM rival Graham Hill, after his Lotus developed an oil leak while dominating the finale in South Africa. Two years later he lost another championship to an oil leak, literally on the last lap of the season-closing Mexican GP. The honours fell instead to John Surtees. But in 1963 and 1965 Clark was unstoppable in Colin Chapman’s green and yellow Lotuses, and their driver/engineer relationship was symbiotic.

Jim Clark not only won his second title in 1965 but he did so by leading every single lap of every race he finished in the 1965 season. Therefore, he won every race he finished with what we now call lights to flag victories. It was an incredible feat which has been unmatched by the other truly greats of the sport, Fangio, Senna, or Schumacher.

In 1963 only some obfuscation by the establishment at Indianapolis Motor Speedway in favour of the traditional front-engined roadsters prevented him from beating Parnelli Jones to victory on his Indy 500 debut in Chapman’s rear-engined Lotus ‘funny car’. He led the 1964 Indy 500 race before his rear suspension broke, and in 1965 dominated the event and became the first Briton to win this iconic race since Dario Resta in 1916.

Clark remains the only man in history to have won the Formula One World Championship and the famed Indianapolis 500 in the same year (1965).

His tally of 25 victories was a record at the time. It has since been surpassed by several other drivers, but none in so few races. Clark's came in just 72 starts, a win ratio surpassed only by Alberto Ascari and Juan Manuel Fangio.

Likewise, his tally of 33 total pole positions was first passed by Sebsatian Vettel, with only Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher and Lewis Hamilton ahead of Clark. But in percentage terms, Clark is ahead of them all. He was on pole for 45.2% of his races - only Fangio, on 55.8%, did better.

Those numbers give a sense of how Clark towered over his era, a period when he made many grands prix mind-numbingly boring, so completely did he and his Lotus dominate them. Yes, the Lotus was often the best car, but Clark's supremacy was not in doubt. His two titles in 1963 and 1965 were exercises in crushing superiority, and he would have won in 1964 and 1967 as well had it not been for the notoriously poor reliability of Lotus's cars.

But does any of this tell us which of the three would have won between the three of them at the British Grand Prix as you suggest?

Graham Hill may have been the monarch of Monaco - his nickname was after all ‘Mr Monaco’ with his magisterial six wins between 1963 and 1969, a record only bettered by the great Ayrton Senna - but much to his regret he never won a British Grand Prix race.

Stirling Moss won two British Grand Prix races in 1955 driving a Mercedes car and in 1957 where he shared a drive in a Vanwall car with Tony Brooks.

Jim Clark won the British Grand Prix an astonishing five times. In 1962, 1963, 1964, 1965 he won driving the same Lotus-Climax car and in 1967 he won with a Lotus-Ford car. His five victories were a record that stood through the subsequent decades until Alain Prost equalled Clark’s tally in 1993 (Prost won on and off between 1983 and 1993). Clark’s record was only surpassed in 2019 when Lewis Hamilton won his amazing sixth victory at the British Grand Prix (with perhaps more to come). Even more remarkable was how peerless Clark’s domination was as he won four British Grand Prix races consecutively. It was yet another amazing record that belonged to Jim Clark until Lewis Hamilton joined him in the record books with four straight wins (2014-2017).

It might be churlish to point out that Stirling Moss, like Graham Hill, never won at Silverstone even when he raced there. Clark won three times.

In those days the British Grand Prix was not always held at Silverstone. Between 1926 and 1986 the venue track chosen rotated between Brooklands and Silverstone, then Aintree and Silverstone, and later Brands Hatch and Silverstone. Only from 1987 onwards to the present day did Silverstone become the established venue race track of the British Grand Prix.

Moss’ two British Grand Prix victories were both achieved at Aintree (1955 and 1957). The British Grand Prix races that Moss did compete at Silverstone he retired due to engine or axle trouble.

In contrast Clark won his first British Grand Prix victory at Aintree in 1962, and another one at Brands Hatch in 1964 but the other three victories were at Silverstone.

So one would have to give the win to Jim Clark on paper.

But some may argue yes, that’s all well and good but who was the fastest driver and who really was the better driver?

Here again the stats speak for themselves. The all time list of fastest laps set during their respective careers gives us some clue because the tracks they drove on were the same during their eras. Graham Hill is 34th on the all time fastest laps set with 10 fastest laps in the Grand Prix races he drove in a 17 year career (1958-1975). Stirling Moss is 15th on the all time fastest - one position above Ayrton Senna - where he set the fastest laps in 19 Grand Prix races in his 10 year career (1951-1961). Jim Clark is 7th on the all time fastest laps set by a Grand Prix driver. He recorded 28 fastest laps in Grand Prix races in his 8 year short racing career (1960-1968). Only Mansell, Vettel, Prost, Raikkonen, Hamilton and Schumacher as 1st stand ahead of him. What makes Clark’s achievement staggering is that he was competing in an era where technology was in the Bronze Age compared to the modern marvels of technology, aerodynamics, and speed. It’s also worth noting all the other drivers had much longer racing careers than Clark did before his untimely death. At the 1968 South African Grand Prix - his last before his death in Hockenheim ring in Germany 3 months later - Clark won way ahead of the pack led by Graham Hill who came in second. He was comfortably on his way to another world championship with more records to be smashed.

Clark still holds the record of eight Grand Slam race wins - that is winning pole position, putting in the fastest lap, and leading every lap of a race to the win. Only Lewis Hamilton comes close with six and Schumacher and Ascari with five. He achieved this twice at the British Grand Prix in 1962 (Aintree) and 1964 (Brands Hatch). Again it needs to be emphasised that Clark did all this while driving in the most dangerous era of Formula One - The Killer Years - where death of drivers and lack of driver and track safety was all too common. This is simply astonishing.

Of the three, Jim Clark was the fastest. I think this isn’t just about stats it’s also the they way they drove that made all three such great racers. All three certainly had limitless courage that even now demands total respect and awe. In particular it’s breath taking watching old film footage of Moss driving his most famous and greatest victory of all was the 1955 Mille Miglia in which he covered 1,000 miles of open Italian roads at an average speed of 97.96mph in 10 hours, seven minutes and 48 seconds.

But the fastest doesn’t make you best of course. When it comes to judging who was the best I think what their peers and contemporaries thought of them counts a lot in coming to some conclusions as to who was the best driver.

Sir Jackie Stewart, three times world champion and a team mate of Jim Clark as well as friends with all three drivers, is worth listening to.

Many think that Graham Hill wasn’t the most natural driver. This isn’t said to slight him or doubt his abilities but to acknowledge his approach to driving. As Jackie Stewart said, “Whereas Jimmy [Clark], Stirling, to a certain extent myself, would drive around a car’s handling problem, Graham would fiddle with the car until it was right. Graham would take very different lines around a corner to others, and I know because sometimes I was following him.”

Sir Stirling Moss has echoed Stewart’s comments. “I’d go along with Jackie and say that Graham didn’t have a natural ability to drive a car extremely quickly. But having said that, when I was to choose a partner for a sports car race at say, the Nürburgring, I would always choose Graham because he was so reliable. Quick, but unlikely to do anything stupid.”

Jackie Stewart’s comment unearth one of secrets of why not only was Jim Clark the fastest but also the best of the three. Simply put Clark knew how to take corners and know when to brake.

It must be stressed that both Moss and Clark knew how to take corners and mastered the art of breaking to a level very few drivers reached whatever car they were driving.

Moss was certainly a pioneer in taking corners and knowing when and when not to brake. Moss - especially at his peak in the Lotus - would cut into the corner early and with the brakes on.

Most drivers run deep into a corner before turning the wheel. In this way a driver could complete his braking in a straight line, as is the standard practice and one everyone did and still do, before setting the car up for the corner. But natural drivers like Moss (and Clark) preferred to cut into the corner early and even with their brakes still on to set up the car earlier. In this way such drivers almost make a false apex because they get the power on early and try to drift the car through the true apex and continue with this sliding until they are set up for the next bit of straight. In other words, the result is a smooth line as you come out of the turn and race on at faster and more seamless speed.

Clark would take this to the next evolutionary step from Moss - also in a Lotus - as cars became more mechanically challenging to handle. Clark placed a big premium on braking. In his book At the Wheel (1964) he expounded on this belief, "The most important thing you can learn in racing: how to brake. Often, if I want to go through a given corner quicker I don’t necessarily put the brakes on any later than usual, but I might not put them on very hard, and take them off earlier. Where you are led into the trap is leaving your braking too late and having to run deep into the corner and brake at the last moment, you might certainly arrive at the corner quicker, but there is a psychological tendency to brake much harder than you need to and therefore over-brake."

A good example of this is looking at footage of the 1965 French Grand Prix in Clermont-Ferrand where Jim Clark won from pole position and set the fastest lap around this new track that no one had driven on before (see below)

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Fast forward to the 9 minute mark you will see all the top drivers of that era tackling a fast downhill left - unfortunately you don’t see Graham Hill, who had an off day and ended up 13th I think - but the point remains valid.

Jim Clark drives a Lotus in this 1965 French Grand Prix race and is bombing away from the rest of the pack as was his usual MO. The interesting thing to notice is the turn. Clark’s Lotus is 2-3 feet inside the painted white line as he turns into the corner. It’s really more of a smooth elegant sweep into the corner. Clark clearly turns in much more earlier with the brakes - as we now know - are lightly caressed. Clark smoothly glides through out of the turn as he disappears from view carrying crucial extra speed. Then the rest come and the difference is soon clear. Jackie Stewart’s BRM P261 car grazes the line and grappling with more understeer than he might have liked finds himself to the right of the dotted line when he comes out of the turn. The V8 Ferrari of the great John Surtees also grazes the line with a similar result. Dan Gurney’s Brabham BT11 car crosses the painted line and he pays for his aggressive stance by sitting cross the road’s dotted centre line. On this track at Clermont-Ferrand there were forty-eight corners in its five sinuous miles to perilously navigate and Clark using this MO had the nonchalant confidence and consistency as well as the driving artistry to increasingly pull ahead of the chasing pack to victory.

Analysing the Clark technique, Peter Collins (a former team manager at Team Lotus and Williams, and an avid Clark fan), who knows more about what makes great drivers than most, made a key observation, “His driving was incredibly fluid even in dramatic moments. Watching the first laps of various races you got a very strong impression that he was mentally more ahead of the car than was the opposition. Watching him leading at the ’Ring in 1967, for instance, the impressive thing was that there were no dead moments in transition from braking to turn-in, to throttle on. He was able to drive an understeering car in a four-wheel drift and judge the exits to perfection.”

Graham Hill, who was a good friend of Jim Clark’s as well as being a fiercely competitive rival on the track, knew better than most and so I shall let him have the final say on this. Hill in his penned eulogy to Jim Clark noted his mastery of taking the corner, “For a driver, the excitement of racing is controlling the car within very fine limits. It's a great big balancing act, motor racing. It's having the car broken away and drifting and doing exactly as you want it to do and getting around the corner as quickly as you can, and knowing that you've done it, and hoping that it is better than anyone else has done. You are aiming at perfection and never actually getting it. Now and then you say, "That's it. That's how I want to do that corner. Now beat that, you bastards." This is the essence of racing, and at this, Jimmy, in his era, was unsurpassed.”

A word must be said about the cars these drivers drove. Racing cars in that era were extremely fast but also extremely unreliable. One can only lament how many world championships Moss, Hill, and Clark would have won if not for some mechanical car failure that did cost them dearly. In the case of Clark, he agonisingly lost the world championships in 1962 and 1964 due to oil leaks in the final race both times.

Of the three Hill was the most technical, not surprising given that he started life with the Royal Navy as a technician specialist. When he was racing Hill took notes of every test, every practice, every race and how his car handled specific track conditions and setups. He was constantly on top of his mechanics with these early versions of telemetry and his expertise on engineering meant that the difference between mechanic and driver was nothing more than a grey area. According to some of the mechanics who worked with Hill, it was sometimes impossible to please him. Both Moss and Clark by contrast didn’t really bother with that side but rather they just jumped into the car and worked around the problems on the track relying on their natural flair and genius. That’s how brilliant they both were.

So how would Moss and Clark fare if they both had the same car and barring any technical issues. There are no certainties but they did both briefly overlap in their careers, as Moss was coming to the end of his and Clark was about to start his ascension. The race that most would point to is the 1961 South African Grand Prix. Stirling Moss was the undisputed world's best in 1961, pulling off some famous victories in inferior equipment, but Clark's performances at the end of the season showed that things were changing. Clark's Lotus Climax 21 car had beaten the slightly older Lotus Climax 18/21 model of Moss in the Natal Grand Prix earlier in the month, but the East London race stepped things up a notch. Clark was fastest in qualifying and started on pole position with Moss +0.2 seconds behind.

Both Clark and his Team Lotus team mate Trevor Taylor led the way at the start but but Moss was soon into second and took the lead when Clark spun avoiding another car. Now Clark charged, despite sustaining gearbox damage, lapping faster than his pole time, and Moss was powerless to stop him coming through to win."Moss pulled in behind Clark and tried to stay in his slipstream but could not keep up with Clark's fast and furious driving and fell slowly, but surely, behind," read Autosport's report. "Clark demonstrated that the world championship is no pipe-dream for him." Clark was a little more circumspect, though beating Moss was clearly a watershed: "I had the satisfaction of beating Stirling twice in two weeks, although, in all fairness, my car was newer than his," he wrote in his 1964 book, Jim Clark - At the wheel.

That Clark was being characteristically modest and magnanimous isn’t the main point to take away. The point is made by Colin Chapman the iconic genius behind Lotus who said of Clark, “when there was no mechanical trouble, Clark absolutely blew away the opposition. One prime example of that was the 1967 German Grand Prix when the Lotus was not an easy car to drive but still Clark got pole in it by a staggering 9 seconds. This also brought out another of Clark’s skills – to drive around problems. He was capable of driving a car with any given setup – he never asked to change the setup to make it to his liking, he went out on track and tried to make the car go faster by adjusting accordingly at corners, which was very easy for him as he had a very smooth driving style and it never looked like he was trying to muscle the car across the corners.”

Once Clark was in front he was almost unbeatable. No matter who you were or how good you were, Clark was quicker and relentless. It was almost game over once Clark took the lead and slowly pulled away from the rest. Graham Hill said in his eulogy to Jim Clark, “He was also particularly competitive, particularly aggressive, but he combined this with an extremely good sense of what not to do. One can be overthrusting—aggressive to the point of being dangerous. Well, this Jimmy was not. But he was a fighter, a fighter that you could never shake off. He invariably shot into the lead and killed off the others, building up a lead that sapped their will to win.”

This is one main reason with all things being equal, Clark would beat Moss and Moss would beat Hill. The really scary thing about Clark’s complete mastery of driving was what Colin Chapman said years later, "I think Jim never drove really 100% - he was so good, he didn’t need it to beat the others. Perhaps only in Monza 1967 he had the knife between his teeth...."

Moss is rightly celebrated as an icon of motor racing. Moss had a fantastic 15 year career on the track and just as importantly he had an even longer one off the track as the fantastic ambassador of Grand Prix racing. Moss lived to be 90 years old and he used that time to deservedly cement his legendary status as a Formula One great. He was a very charismatic and convivial personality. He is revered by contemporary drivers and racing fans because his presence was anywhere and everywhere. No racing event would be complete without the vintage stardust of the great Sir Stirling Moss. At Goodwood and at the RAC Club racing enthusiasts would mill around him and listen to his endless yarns. At race circuits during the Grand Prix season his presence in paddock would stop everything as racers and technical crew were in awe of him.

In contrast Jim Clark’s racing career was tragically cut short to a mere 8 years and yet he had achieved so much at the age of 32 years old. Arguably his death had the greater impact because it was more keenly felt by his peers and those within the racing world. So when he was killed by a puncture during the wet Formula 2 Deutschland Trophy race at Hockenheim on 7 April 1968, after his Lotus crashed into unforgiving trees by the side of the track, race drivers around the world felt death’s hand on their shoulder, and asked themselves, “If it can happen to Jim Clark, what chance do we have?”

The consequence of Clark’s death cannot be stressed enough. Clark’s death was the sacrificial blood price for the more modern era drivers to race with greater driver safety measures in place and safer tracks for spectators that these days we today take for granted. A lot of credit is due to Clark’s close friend and team mate, the great Sir Jackie Stewart, who at the risk of his own personal reputation, pushed hard for the racing world to take driver safety seriously. A lot of danger - and perhaps even the excitement - has been taken out as Moss used to say. But there is no question racing - whilst still relatively dangerous because of the higher speeds they are pushing for those micro margin of victories - is much safer than the dangerous era of Moss, Hill, and Clark.

So why isn’t he more well known or revered by the general public (as opposed to hard core racing fans and those within the racing world)? I suspect it was due to his shyness and aversion to publicity. Clark grew up on a Scottish farm and he was clear to many that this was his roots that he always returned to. While he couldn’t entirely avoid the glamour of the racing world with its hedonistic side effects of women, sex and fast cars - as personified by Graham Hill or James Hunt - Clark eschewed all that in favour of simple living on his Scottish farm. His only indulgence was an airplane that he used to piloted into race circuits in Europe - Hill could fly too and it cost him his life in 1975 in a tragic plane accident. Clark simply loved racing. The proud Scot was a gentleman with self-deprecating charm and modesty to match. He was simply a good and decent man revered by his own peers in his own time.

At Clark’s funeral, Jim Clark Snr, beloved father, confessed to Dan Gurney, a racing rival, that he was the only man his son had feared. Gurney, who died in January 2018, spoke of Clark thus: “It is certainly an honour to have had the opportunity to know him as a team-mate, a friend, and to have competed with him on so many memorable occasions. Jim whipped us so many times that we all sort of got used to it. Naturally, we didn’t like being whipped, but, it is probably a testimony to Jim’s integrity and stature among us, his peers, that we couldn’t help loving the lad in spite of it.”

Elizabeth ‘Widdy’ Cameron, whom Clark nearly married in 1960, and with whom he stayed close despite rising fame, said: “He was very shy. And he was a terrific gentleman. I didn't hear him say bad things about anybody. He was a good, good man and I hope everybody remembers that. He was very special.” Sir Jackie Stewart, the three time world champion and another great British driver, still sheds a tear when he’s asked about Jim Clark. The two Scots were close friends, and three years earlier when Stewart had arrived in F1, he played the Robin role to Clark’s undisputed Batman. “Jim Clark,” he says still, “was everything I aspired to be, as a racing driver and as a man.” When Jim Clark this humble man as a product of his upbringing on a Scottish farm in the Scottish Borders insisted that inscribed on his tomb stone would be, ‘farmer and world champion’.

Of course I never saw Moss, Hill and Clark race but I’m definitely in the camp that considers Jim Clark as not only the greatest British driver of all time but also arguably the best driver in the world of all time alongside that other most naturally gifted racer, Ayrton Senna. There’s not much to differentiate their greatness and genius.

It’s fitting that the final judgement of who was the best driver of the three should rest with their peers and contemporaries. Juan Manuel Fangio, the Argentine great is one of my favourite racers and one who is also considered one of the greatest of all time, said this about Clark in 1995: "He was better than I was - the greatest driver ever." Even the great Ayrton Senna when he went to Clark’s old Scottish boarding school, Loretto, confessed to the schoolboys, "After all - Jim Clark was the greatest driver ever."

The wonderful thing about arguing about who is the best with British icons like Moss, Hill, and Clark as examples is how the past can inspire the present generation of drivers to aspire to greater heights than the peers of the past. Who knows perhaps one day we will be talking about Lewis Hamilton or Max Verstappen in the same hushed tones of reverence and awe. Then as racing fans we should count our blessings that we can witness their special racing artistry on the track first hand while we can in the same way past generations were in awe of such special talents as Moss, Hill, and Clark.

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #grand prix #racing #driving #stirling moss #jim clark #graham hill #formula one #britain #british #sports

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duhragonball · 4 years ago

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (132/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[October 25, 233 Before Age. Despye.]

"The shipyard has a few surface-to-orbit cannons. Here, here... and here."

From inside his cell, Guwar pointed at various spots on a map printed from his ship's database. It had always been his plan to share this information with Luffa once he reached Federation space. He hadn't really considered how that handover would work. In hindsight, he supposed that it had been naive to think that he would just tell Luffa what she needed to know and that would be that. They didn't trust him, not completely. And so he was confined to a holding cell while a blue-skinned alien interrogated him over and over.

"Good," she said as she scribbled notes onto a pad. "What sort of ships do they have in the yard?"

He sighed before answering. "Mainly surplus Camelian cruisers, a few privately owned mercenary craft, all stolen, of course. There's some freighters for covert ops and troop transports, but most of those were already deployed. Our warriors would take them to various star systems and then hijack other ships, then take those into Federation space. That's how we managed to avoid being traced back. But you already knew that from the last four times I answered this question."

"Just seeing if you can keep your story straight, Guwar," she said. He didn't know her name, or even what planet she came from. He didn't think she was very strong-- not by Saiyan standards, anyway. But then, he wasn't very strong himself anymore.

"Tell me about the Jindan formula," she said. For a moment he thought she might have read his mind, but he knew this was impossible. It probably wasn't a coincidence either. She kept asking about the same things over and over, expecting to catch him in some lie.

"Trismegistus created it," he groaned as he explained it again. "The rest of the galaxy knows him as the Saiyan King Rehval, but you have to get to a certain rank in the cult before he reveals that to you. Some Saiyans can't handle the truth, so he wipes their memory and makes them repeat the indoctrination until they can accept it."

"Not what I asked," she said.

"I'm just trying to keep this interesting," he said. He got up from his seat in the cell and paced around a bit before sitting back down. Her chair didn't look that much more comfortable than his, but hers had a thin layer of cushioning that he envied.

The alien put her pen to her lower lip. "Oh, it's already pretty interesting, Guwar. Keep talking."

"The Jindan potion makes Saiyans stronger. Something about tapping into a wellspring of energy from the earth, and using it to supplement the life energy in the body. Rehval makes this potion and you drink it." As he mimicked the act of putting a goblet to his lips, he paused as he recalled the rush of ecstasy he felt as he received the power. In that moment, he had felt like he could do anything. It seemed like a hundred years ago.

"Is that how you get the Mindworm?" she asked.

"No, that's a different procedure," he said as he tapped the side of his head. "Your mistress already knows about the Mindworm."

"Mistress?"

"Well, you work for her, don't you? Like, her butler or something."

She laughed quietly and jotted something down in her notes. "Butler, right. Okay."

He shrugged and decided there was no point in prying. "The Mindworm attacks anyone who tries to probe our minds. It protects his secrets. And it's permanent. The Jindan Power, he can take that away whenever he wants. He withdrew it from me while I was on my way here. The catch is, he takes some of my own power with it. Like he's collecting interest."

"So you end up weaker than you were before you started," she said. "I thought I sensed something weird about your ki."

"You can sense my ki?" he asked. He suddenly felt very exposed. Her left eye, the one that wasn't covered by the patch, seemed much more intrusive as she stared into his cell.

"Oh, I can sense more than that, Guwar," she said. "Ki, temperature, heart rate. Why do you think I'm doing this interrogation instead of her? I mean, she's got better things to do, but besides that."

"You're what, then? Some sort of lie detector?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Let's just say I've learned how to interpret a Saiyan's pulse. But enough about me. Tell me about the Nagaoka system again. You said Rehval's on the second of four planets, right?"

"No, I said there was only one planet. Nice try."

She smiled and glanced down at her notes.

"This is a waste of time!" he said. "I already told you everything you needed to know. I thought Luffa would be halfway to Nagaoka now. The longer she waits--"

"You let us worry about that, Guwar," she said. "All you have to do is answer my questions."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, but I probably won't answer."

"Can Luffa defeat him? I mean, she's the Super Saiyan, but is that enough?"

The alien looked up at him with a serious expression. "She's more than enough, Guwar. But you already knew that, didn't you? Otherwise, why else would you risk everything to come here?"

"I... I'm just hedging my bets," he said. "The universe has gotten too hot for Saiyans lately. It's all coming down between Luffa and Rehval, and anyone who doesn't pick a side will get caught in the middle. Rehval's insane, so there's only one other choice."

"You're lying," she said. "If all you cared about was saving your own skin, you'd have taken your ship as far away from here as you could go. Rehval's got you worried. Not just about yourself, but for everyone."

"You can tell all that from my body heat?" Guwar scoffed.

"No, I can tell from your answers," she said. "You're in a big hurry for us to stop this guy, even though he's already punished you for turning against him. And you keep talking about how all the Saiyans will be doomed unless she saves them. You've seen the light, Guwar. Just like I have."

There was nothing he could say about that. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, or that he didn't believe her, but the truth was that he wanted her to be right, at least as far as Luffa being able to win. So instead of saying anything, he just turned and faced away from her, but only for as long as it took for him to pace the length of his cell. She was still there when he turned around.

"Let's move on to those spears you guys always use," she said. "What's the deal with those?"

*******

While Zatte questioned Guwar on Luffa's ship, Luffa herself was briefing the Federation Council, along with its top military commanders, on their planned counterattack. Despye prided itself on the image of a pastorial, agrarian society, but it was also home to a powerful military-industrial complex. Prester Ganzut wore a simple pair of pink overalls and often carried a ceremonial pitchfork when conducting political business. He even smelled of hay, suggesting that he had always just stepped in from tending his fields, though Luffa suspected that he used some sort of farm-scented cologne. The more she got to know the man, the less and less he seemed like a simple man of the land. Watching him host the Federation's leaders in a heavily armored amphitheater only made it that much clearer to which world he belonged.

"Federation observatories have confirmed the presence of a star system in the coordinates you gave us," Marshall Booth said as he addressed the delegates. Luffa didn't care much for him either, but at least his red military uniform told no lies about his agenda. "We don't want to send scout ships, since it might tip our hand, but we've managed to verify just about everything else that Guwar has told us so far. He even told us about an upcoming raid, and gave us the codes to disable their ships. We defeated them easily."

"It's a little too good to be true, isn't it?" asked Emir Plair of Porpozit. He was an ophidian being with thin legs and arms, and a forked tongue that darted out of his mouth every so often. "We've been fighting these cultists for months, with no end in sight, and suddenly this defector shows up on our doorstep and tells us everything we need to win?"

"Attacking Nagaoka won't be a walk in the park, Emir," Luffa said. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in her chair. "I intend to personally kill every Saiyan on its surface, but we'll need a whole fleet to surround the planet so no one escapes. And we'll need a second fleet to guard the first one from any counterattack. Rehval won't go down without a fight, and Guwar tells me that his Jindan powers are strongest there."

"We ought to contact him first, shouldn't we?" asked Jett Farthing, Leader-1 of Kiqs IV. He looked like a pile of tentacles stuffed into a blue robe. "Once he finds out that we know where his lair is, he might be open to negotiations."

"He's not interested in negotiations," Luffa snarled. "I tried playing nice with him before, and he lured me into a deathtrap. Drang Dedruhn still hasn't recovered from that charmed necklace he gave her. I won't underestimate him again. Besides, why would any of you want to talk peace with that bastard, after everything he's done to your people?"

"Yes, the element of surprise is vital to this offensive," Booth added. "Even if the cult knows that we have Guwar, they won't know when we'll strike, or how our attack will be carried out. We may not get a second chance at this."

"Rehval seems to take that planet pretty seriously, but he'll abandon it if he thinks he's cornered," Luffa said. "Don't forget about those rock-creatures he's been manifesting on your planets. If he can control those things from another star system, then he probably has some way to escape Nagaoka in an emergency." She punched her open palm as she spoke. "That's why we've got to hit him hard and fast, and from all sides. If we catch him off-guard, we can disrupt his contingency plans before he has a chance to use them."

"Seems t'me that's exactly what he'd want you to try, darlin'," said Prester Ganzut. "You take a fleet all the way out to Nagaoka, and leave our homestead vulnerable to his next attack. If I were him, I'd already be on my way here, leading my own fleet into battle while yours heads to an empty planet."

"We thought of that," Luffa said through clenched teeth. Her tail moved in such a way that would have made her growing irritation very obvious to anyone who understood Saiyan body language. But to the aliens delegates of the council, she simply appeared to be slightly anxious to get underway. "The entire Saiyan Free Company will be going with me to Nagaoka, along with the third and sixth fleet from the Federation Navy. Booth will be taking the ninth fleet to the Gelbo System, about halfway between Nagaoka and here. The rest of our forces will remain in Federation space to deal with any new invaders. From Gelbo, Booth can coordinate with both fronts, and deploy reinforcements wherever they're needed."

"Will the remaining fleets be enough to protect us?" asked Saith Reinar of Rastraw II. Her exoskeleton clicked and the gold bangles on her six limbs clinked as she trembled with anxiety. "We've all seen what those Saiyans can do once they reach the surface of an inhabited world--!"

"Which is precisely why we must intercept and destroy incoming ships before that happens," Booth said. "I have already issued new shelter orders for civilian populations, and local defense forces have been mobilized for--"

"None of that will mean anything if a band of these Saiyan fanatics get past your fleet!" said of Bort Samsa of Drakkenfilt. His body was covered in a thick layer of symbiotic moss, which made his form difficult to make out. "They've managed to do it time and time again during this war, even with all of our forces on the defensive! And now you want to send troops to Gelbo!?"

Booth didn't have a tail, although Luffa could imagine what it might have looked like if he had one. "We have to take the offensive," he insisted. "If we adopt a siege mentality, then the enemy will simply wear us down."

"Hold on a moment," said of Chet Vil, President of Boiperpei. He spoke slowly, more deliberately than the others. While they seemed more terrified of the risks, he talked as though giving a speech to his caninoid constituents back home. "In these unprecedented times, it's clear that there's a great deal at stake. And I think that what we should be focusing on is finding a way to attack the enemy and defend our territory at the same time, without dividing our brave fighting forces. It could be very beneficial to the Federation. Why, just think of what we might accomplish, not only in this war, but in future conflicts."

"You're an idiot," Luffa said. "I only came here to brief you all on my plans, so that you could prepare your people for what might happen if anything goes wrong. I'm not interested in suggestions, especially nonsense. You're up, Dotz."

Nearby, Dotz rose from her chair and gingerly waved to the councilors, then clasped her hands together for a moment, before fidgeting with the purple shawl that hung around her neck and shoulders.

"We've been briefed about your psychic, Madam Federatrix," said Tak-Tik of Kopey. "And we know that her predictions are no guarantee of success."

"Dotz can see the future a lot more clearly than anyone else in this room," Luffa said with a smile. "And she's accurately predicted every Jindan attack inside of Federation space. The only reason we've taken as many losses as we have is because we couldn't always keep up with the invasions, but she always knew where they would show up, and when. Tell them what you told me, Dotz."

"W-well," she began. "I've been trying to improve my abilities lately, for the war effort and all. When Luffa told me about this attack on Nagaoka, she asked me to find out if the prisoner she captured was telling the truth about it. I saw a battle taking place there. Very terrible, but I can't tell anything specific about it. So there must be something there worth fighting over."

There was a rumble of murmurs from the council, and Luffa gestured for Dotz to continue.

"As for the Federation, um, well I'm sorry, but I don't really see any fighting inside your territory, not with Saiyan invaders anyway. Other enemies are harder for me to forsee, unless you have one in mind that you want me to look out for."

"I can't be sure of Dotz' maximum limit," Luffa explained, "but she's forecast battles a month before I fought them. The accuracy gets kind of fuzzy further out than that, but it won't take more than two weeks for the fleet to reach Nagaoka. Dotz says the cult won't make a move while we're gone, and that's good enough for me. Even if something did happen, you'll have Booth's group one week away at Gelbo."

"Convenient, ain't it?" asked Prester Ganzut. "That the enemy'd suddenly stop attacking us like that, for no good reason."

Luffa turned to look at him with an eager gleam in her eye. "Oh, I'll give them a reason to stop attacking, Prester," she said. "They won't attack the Federation because they'll all be dead after I finish attacking them. Or maybe they'll win, and you all can negotiate a settlement over my dead body. Either way, the war will be over, which only confirms that Nagaoka is where the last battle will be fought."

"And we should accept this as fact? Based on the words of this... this confidence man?"

Luffa shot a dirty look at a woman who now stood up from the group. "Do you have a problem, General Bailgrad?"

The general made a self-satisfied smirk as she peered over her glasses to look down at Luffa on the floor. "Not with you, Madam Federatrix, but I have a duty to object to the quality of your advisors. It's shameful enough that our entire defense is centered around 'psychic' visions, however accurate they may be."

"Dotz's prophecies are legitimate, General," Luffa growled. "I wouldn't have consulted with her if I didn't believe in her abilities."

"It's not a question of ability," Bailgrad replied. "It's a matter of allegiance, of competency. How can you trust someone who's not even a Federation citizen, who has no stake in this war? Why, just look at him."

"What?!" Luffa snapped.

"Really, Luffa, I'd like to think that women have made some genuine progress in this society. You're a role model, and it's very damaging to your cause when you humor such infantile notions that biology can be circumvented, simply by dressing up like my grandmother. How can we even take seriously a prophet who doesn't know whether he's a--"

As Bailgrad spoke, Luffa stretched out her hand, and quickly twisted her wrist, pointing her index and middle fingers toward the ceiling. As she did, the general suddenly exploded where she stood. Everyone around her cried out in terror, and yet, the force of the blast was directed upward, the energy so carefully controlled, that the people nearest to Bailgrad felt only a stiff breeze. As for the general herself, nothing remained but her shoes, and a plume of smoke that rose up from them.

"I'll only say this once," Luffa said. "Dotz has saved countless lives in this war. She has my complete confidence. If any of you dare to insult her like that again, I will slaughter you without hesitation. Now. Does anyone else have anything to say?"

No one did. And so Luffa adjourned the meeting, and gestured for Dotz to follow her back to her ship.

"Y-you didn't have to do that," Dotz finally said.

Before Luffa could reply, she noticed Prester Ganzut running after them from the corridor.

"Luffa, wait!"

"The meeting is adjourned, Prester," Luffa said coldly.

"Beggin' your pardon," he said, "but you know it ain't that simple. That wasn't some buck private you just destroyed. Bailgrad's got a lot of friends on Despye. Lot of pull in the rest of the Federation too, f'r that matter."

"Hah! Not anymore, she doesn't," Luffa said with a smirk.

"Consarn it, I'm serious, Luffa!" Ganzut said. He wore the pink overalls of a simple Despyan farmer, but he was as much a career politician as the rest of them. His snowy white hair and leathery skin only meant that he had been doing it longer than most. There was a time, not so long ago, when she found him and others like him to be somewhat amusing.

"So am I," Luffa said. "I protect all of you people by choice, and somehow you think I'm just going to sit quietly and lick your boots while you disrespect my comrades? Think again, Prester."

"I know what you're capable of, ma'am," he said. "And personally, I think Bailgrad deserved what she got. Not much of a general if she couldn't see the tactical flaws in pissin' you off."

"She wasn't a general at all," Luffa said. "Just another pencil pusher behind a desk, handed a title she was never qualified to hold. Just like all of those 'friends' on Despye you were warning me about, Prester. Now that I think about it, maybe someone needs to clean things up on this planet of yours."

He chuckled for a moment, and then his eyes went wide as he realized she wasn't joking. For a split second, his arm reached out, as if he meant to grab her by the shoulder. Perhaps this was how he was used to scolding other women of Luffa's size and stature, but he thought better of it, and kept his hands to himself.

"It don't work that way!" he said, almost pleadingly. "Can't you see that? I thought you woulda learned by now how complicated this stuff is. The government only works when it keeps enough of the people in line. Sometimes that means making compromises, darlin'. You scratch someone's back so they'll scratch yours later. You learn to eat slop and like the taste, because not all of us can break a mountain in two, or shoot lasers out of our hands. It's all a popularity contest, and--" he paused to glance at Dotz-- "beggin' your friend's pardon, there's a lot of rotten ideas out there that are a lot more popular than you are."

"Is there a point to all of this, Prester?" Luffa asked.

"Dagnabbit, I'm tryin' to tell you that if you keep throwin' your weight around, there won't be any Federation left to run! You probably don't look at the polls, but folks ain't as keen on you as they used to be. Some of 'em think you're a troublemaker, and there's plenty others who say you started this whole war, just so your Saiyan buddies could take over. Nobody can stop you, but if you push them too far, a bunch of 'em will die trying, and they'll ruin everything else while they're at it. So just... just back off a hair, is all I'm sayin'."

"Is that all? Fine. Here's what I say."

She grabbed Ganzut by the front of his pink overalls, and lifted him off his feet with one hand. Dotz gasped at the sight of this, but knew better than to interfere. To Ganzut's credit, he didn't panic, though it was clear from his expression that he would have much rather stayed on the ground.

"You probably think I don't keep up with current events much," Luffa said as she stared into his eyes. "I'm so busy fighting your wars, or looking for my own battles, so you figure you can do as you please while my back is turned. That's what got Bailgrad killed, Prester. She got so complacent, so used to thinking she was untouchable, that she forgot how to behave when I was right in front of her."

Ganzut tried to talk, but there really wasn't anything he could say at this point, so he ended up just making a series of nonverbal grunts. Luffa smiled.

"The fact is, I have been paying attention to what goes on in the Federation. The deal was that all of you kings and ministers and presidents would work together and keep things running smoothly while I protected you. And you've done a halfway decent job, but there's plenty of corruption and inequality in the system. Humanoids like Dotz don't get the respect they deserve. The outbreak of space cholera on Fedender is being completely mishandled. Some third-rate celebrity has been stirring up a campaign to harass Ichthyoids on Eetie, based on some laughable conspiracy! Oh, and one of your own department heads has been withholding technical services to farmers with malfunctioning equipment. Are you going to tell me to back off from that, Prester?"

"W-we're workin' on that!" Ganzut said.

Luffa dropped him to the floor. "Work harder," she said. "Because when I get back from Nagaoka, I may just decide to take matters into my own hands. And you might not like the way I solve problems. I won't be very popular by the time I get done, but that's never mattered much to me before."

She turned and left with Dotz. Ganzut gathered himself from the floor, coughing and struggling to catch his breath.

*******

"What did he say then?"

"Nothing. What could he say? He probably thought if he argued with me anymore, I'd kill him like I killed Bailgrad."

"Would you?" Zatte asked.

"Nah, he's not such a bad guy," Luffa said. "He's in a difficult position, or at least what he thinks is difficult. I killed Bailgrad because she was an embarrassment. She owed her life to Dotz's predictions. A little courtesy is a small price to pay."

After the conference, Luffa had returned to her ship, which she and Zatte prepared for the long trip to Nagaoka. Together, they took inventory of the supplies in the cargo bay.

"Is that what's next for us?" Zatte asked as she checked the expiration date on a crate of flour. "After we settle things on Nagaoka, I mean. I was starting to think you were planning to leave the Federation for good."

"Oh, I thought about it," Luffa said. "Trouble is, there's nothing else out there for me. I started this alliance to make things simpler for me while I hunted down Kandai. Ever since then it's been more trouble than it's worth, but there's no bigger battles out there for me to find. I might as well stay put and hope the competition comes to me."

"You don't think Nagaoka will be big enough for you?" Zatte asked.

"To tell you the truth, it doesn't matter much anymore. I... maybe this won't make any sense, but I'm sick of this war. When it started, it seemed like a proper challenge, but I've just been fighting variations of the same battle over and over again. The only real issue is keeping my injuries under control, and making sure we get to the next planet in time. It's more about time management than combat. The enemy knows they can't match my power, so they're just trying to wear me down, so what could they hope to do when they're on the defensive?"

"They might have a secret weapon or two," Zatte offered. "Something Guwar doesn't know about."

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up, but I think they would have used something like that by now," Luffa said. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. When this is over, there probably won't be any new fights for a while, and I think I'm okay with that. I think I'd rather wait for something big to show up instead of trying to force it. I just have to keep busy in the meantime."

"So this social justice campaign is your new hobby?"

Luffa lifted a tank of potable water to read the lot number on the bottom. "I'm not looking forward to it, if that's what you mean. I just know there's a lot of people like Ganzut who feel like they're stuck, and to me it doesn't seem all that hard to get them unstuck. There must be something I can do, and I'm not afraid to bust some heads to make it happen."

"Well I think it's perfect," Zatte said. "It might take you a while to get the hang of it, but with your power, there's no limit to the good you might do for people. Not to mention all the other Saiyans."

"What about them?" Luffa asked.

"Well, with Rehval defeated, they'll have to recognize you for what you are, right?"

Luffa put down the tank and shook her head. "You're a dreamer, Zattie. You ought to know by now how stubborn my people are."

"Seltiss is starting to see it," Zatte said. "And Guwar too. They won't admit it, but I can tell. They wanted Rehval or someone like him to prove you wrong, but now that they see him for what he really is..."

"I can see it now," Luffa said. "'And that's the story, children, of how Old Luffa got all the Saiyans to start planting trees and lobby for fairer transportation laws.'"

"Hey, don't sell yourself short," Zatte said. "You can do anything you set your mind to. And don't worry about getting bored. Trouble usually finds you sooner or later."

"Hah! I hadn't thought of it that way," Luffa said. "Maybe it won't be so bad after all."

NEXT: Left Behind

#dragon ball #fanfiction #lssjluffafic #super saiyan #luffa #zatte #prester ganzut #dotz #ryba booth #guwar #general bailgrad #despye

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recentanimenews · 4 years ago

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FEATURE SERIES: My Favorite One Piece Arc with Maffew

I love One Piece and I love talking to people who love One Piece. And with the series going on 23 years now, there is a whole lot to talk about. As the series is about to publish its 1000th chapter, a true feat in and of itself, we thought we should reflect upon the high-seas adventure and sit down with some notable names in the One Piece fan community and chat about the arcs they found to be especially important, or just ones they really, really liked.

Welcome to the next article in the series "My Favorite One Piece Arc!"

My next guest in this series is Maffew, creator of the popular pro wrestling web series Botchamania. For my chat with him, he chose the Alabasta Arc, in which Luffy and his crew not only have to save a desert kingdom but also topple Baroque Works and its powerful leader Crocodile.

A note on spoilers: If you haven't seen the Alabasta arc yet, this interview does contain major plot points. Watch the Alabasta arc starting RIGHT HERE if you'd like to catch up or rewatch!

Dan Dockery: So I guess my first basic question is, let’s say for some reason, I got to the end of Drum Island and I said “Well, One Piece ends here for me. This seems like a good finale.” What would you tell me to keep me going into the Alabasta Arc in one sentence?

Maffew: Well, after Chopper has made all the kids cry, you’ll need pickin’ up.

That’s pretty good! What was the impetus for you getting into One Piece? What made you want to jump into an anime that’s nearly one thousand episodes long at this point?

I think I tried watching it on YouTube back in 2009, and I just couldn’t get into it. At that point in my life, I wasn’t ready for a character like Luffy and his adventures, and I couldn’t wait for the villains he fought to kill him. So I dropped it. A year later, I’m in Germany and this wrestler ACH was doing a Q&A panel for this German wrestling organization called WXW. And ACH is a REALLY big One Piece fan, and even dresses up as Luffy in New Japan and Ring of Honor. And I was like “Hey, you watching JoJo?” because that was my thing at the time, and he was like “No, no. Just One Piece.” I said, “What else are you watching?” “Just One Piece.” And I’m like “Wait, what? Just the one?” But he was sellin’ it to me like he was a One Piece ad on QVC. And guys like Steve Yurko are so passionate about it, and if one person tells ya to watch something, you’re like “Eh, whatever,” but if five people tell you, you start to pay attention. So I’m gonna blame ACH and my good friend Steve Yurko for this.

What do you like about this arc in particular?

You get so much wonderful worldbuilding. They go to Alabasta, meet up with Mr. 2, and it’s one of those cool interactions where they’re meeting, but they don’t know who they are meeting exactly, like when they meet Blackbeard in Jaya. So later on, they’re like “Oh, it’s THEM!” There’s a real sense of everything not being really pre-determined at this point. It’s building everything through a bunch of pirates just doing stuff. Ace shows up, knocks out some assassins so he can get his royalty checks.

That’s such a funny way to put it.

Then we get Kung-Fu Dugongs, and they’re a pretty pure expression of One Piece. They’re all synchronized, they’re adorable, they play their part amid all the serious stuff, and they’re completely ridiculous, but they work anyway. And it’s with Alabasta that Eiichiro Oda starts to perfect the tropes that he puts into place throughout, with the new islands, the new leader who everyone loves but is actually a bad person, the crew having to deal with him and the Navy, them having to help put someone back in their position, etc. And even though, on paper, it reads like “Well, he’s gotta beat this dude and this dude and this dude,” it’s so much more chaotic and less formulaic than you’d expect. It keeps things interesting.

I agree. I like how he takes all of these pieces and he’s consistent with them, but Oda always plays around with how he sets them up.

But it’s all a foot massage before the real reason to watch Alabasta: Sir Croc.

Are you a big fan of him? That dude is so cool, conniving and powerful. He’s kinda the perfect villain.

Back when I was being miserable and first watching One Piece, I really liked him. I like the design, the sand powers that could actually pose a threat. I always appreciate it when a villain provides actual tension. It’s like why I think Goldeneye is still the best James Bond film. Because Alec Trevelyan is constantly reminding Bond “Remember, I could kill you. I’m from the same place as you. I can take your exploding watch and just, eh, I’ll stop that then. Thank you.” And Luffy loses twice to him in the three-match structure that really works here as it did for wrestling in the 70s.

How so?

So you’d have somebody like champion Bruno Sammartino and someone like Ivan Koloff or one of the Wild Samoans or Stan Stasiak. They’d have one match where the hero would beat Bruno by disqualification. Bruno’s still around to fight, but he’s lost. Luffy survives being thrown in the sand, but he’s been beaten. Then they have the second match, where Bruno would win because the villain would just give up and leave and get counted out. Luffy attacks Crocodile with water, but it’s not enough, and Crocodile just kinda leaves Luffy thinking it’s all done. And then Bruno would be like “Oh no ya don’t. Next time, you won’t be able to escape, because we’re gonna be in a cage match.” And then Bruno wins, just like Luffy wins by punching Crocodile up through that giant enclosed space. He escapes the cage.

It’s just so satisfying and that’s a great way to describe it. So, villains in the series have had extensive crew members before, but they haven’t been as recognizable and colorful as Croc’s crew, Baroque Works. Do you have a favorite member?

They’re all good in their own way, but at this point, I’m gonna go with Mr. 2. Eh, that’s probably too obvious an answer…

Mr. 2 is a lot of people’s favorite member.

Oh, who cares. I’ll go with Mr. 2. I like how Mr. 2 interacts with everyone, having fun with the boys and fighting Sanji with kicks but respecting him.

So, in this arc, there’s a lot of government intrigue and a revolution is about to happen, and everyone’s dissatisfied with their perception of the monarchy. How did you react to all of this political drama in One Piece?

Well, it’s great because you have Vivi, and you get to learn her motivations and because she’s on the crew, it gives you a reason to care for the crew and how all of the political intrigue affects them. Without her, you’d just hear about a war and say “Oh, sorry about that. Hope it goes well.” And with all this lore being thrown at you because you have Vivi and that connection, it’s adding to the main conflict, rather than distracting.

Yeah, Vivi really grounds it all with a personal attachment. Because otherwise it’s just savin’ the kingdom, which is cool and they’re good for it, but it doesn’t have the same impact. So, they did this back in the Arlong Park arc, but what returns here is the kind of 1 vs 1 match structure, where a member or members of the enemy crew are matched up against a Straw Hat or Hats. Mr. 1 has knife body parts, so he’s obviously gonna fight Zoro. Mr. 2 kicks and Sanji kicks, etc. What do you think about that kind of matchmaking, because it’s also a little wrestling-esque.

Yeah, right, like if you have D-Generation X fighting the Nation of Domination, you can’t just have The Rock fighting Triple H. Ya gotta have D’Lo Brown vs X-Pac and The Godfather vs Billy Gunn. I like it because the characters feel like they have to prove themselves, like Zoro’s a swordsman, and he’s gotta test himself against another swordsman. And Usopp does it when he fights Mr. 4 and Miss Merry Christmas with Chopper, because they have a weird dynamic and they’re fighting two people and they have no clue what they’re up against.

So, at the end of the arc, they do the iconic “We can’t let Vivi become associated with pirates so we’ll hold up the X symbols on our arms in solidarity” pose. What did you think about that? Because it’s one of the most famous images in One Piece, and it’s hard to avoid it, even if you’ve never watched the series. Was that your first time seeing it?

It actually was. And I’m glad you brought this up because I was watching it and I thought “Wait, they’re just going? They’re not even keeping the duck?” And then they do that with the X and the original opening starts playing and I get goosebumps just remembering it. That really hit me. Because it finally got me really emotionally invested in the series. Made me feel a bit cheeky.

ONE PIECE LIGHTNING ROUND!

So, considering you’re such a huge pro wrestling fan, your lightning round is gonna be a bit different. I’m gonna say a Straw Hat that’s in the crew at this point and you tell me which wrestler they’re the most like. You can also tell me what time period they’d fit the most in, since wrestler personalities tend to change. So, Luffy?

Gotta be Cena. Specifically? With Luffy’s attitude? Probably 2015 defending-the-United States-Championship John Cena.

Zoro?

He’s all business, he likes to fight. So I gotta go with Cesaro.

Sanji?

Going with Eddie Guerrero.

Usopp?

That character is all over wrestling - the underdog who isn’t very good and uses every trick in the book to win. Gonna go with MJF. He had one of my favorite matches of this year against Cody Rhodes and he just had to use EVERYTHING to beat him - brass knuckles, distraction, chairs, everything he could to get that win. But he could be MJF, could be The Miz, could be Mikey Whipwreck from ECW, take your pick.

Nami?

Hmmm. Becky Lynch.

Chopper?

KeMonito

Robin?

Oh, she shows up after being booed for ages and you’re supposed to like her, so 2019 Charlotte Flair.

Stay tuned for the next installment of "My Favorite One Piece Arc" as we speak with One Piece's official English manga translator Stephen Paul on his favorite One Piece arc: Skypiea!!

Daniel Dockery is a Senior Staff Writer for Crunchyroll. Follow him on Twitter!

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Daniel Dockery

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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movienotesbyzawmer · 4 years ago

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October 26: Friday the 13th Part VIII - Jason Takes Manhattan

(previous notes: Friday the 13th Part VII - The New Blood)

I know that this is devastating news for you but I'm almost done watching the Friday the 13th movies and posting here about them. Believe me it hurts me a lot less than it hurts you. Or something. Whatever, I'm not enjoying these movies so I look forward to moving on to a slightly more worthwhile project, such as those Fantastic Beasts movies. That's a joke get it, those movies blow.

So to recap… Jason drowned as a little boy in Camp Crystal Lake and his mom perceived negligence on the part of horny teenage camp counselors so she kills a couple of them before her son even drowns and then twenty years later she takes up that cause again bigly. She gets beheaded but Jason, still a boy in the lake, pulls his mom’s killer in the water which makes her very whelmed. Then a few years later Jason is an adult-sized monster who stalks that camp and the houses in the area, violently murdering everyone he can, and in different methods whenever that is feasible. At one point he gets so stabbed that he is apparently definitively dead enough to get buried in a spooky graveyard, but the guy that originally stabbed him so effectively thinks he needs to dig him up and extra-kill him. But lightning strikes a pole that got stuck in Jason so he just stops being dead and goes back to being a murder monster. He eventually gets anchored to the bottom of Crystal Lake but a girl who lives on the lake has powers which mostly involve moving things with her mind, but she also was able to inadvertently will Jason up from the lake so he could just keep doing the same death stuff. After many killings and poorly-thought-out chases through the woods, the magic girl uses her power to have her dead dad come up from the lake and pull Jason into it in such a manner as to convince her that Jason is just gone forever.

So then how can there be another movie I don't understand.

Maybe the first seven movies were all a dream, and this one is just a movie.

What does it tell you that I'm putting off starting this movie.

Again I haven't seen this eighth movie. It came out when I was 18, but even though it promised a tongue-in-cheek, self-aware, campy experience I just didn't fit it into my busy schedule of wanting girls to like me even a little. I do remember kind of rooting for it to be fun and funny, but based on having just watched the first seven movies in the series, my confidence that there will be any decent humor here at all is very, very low. Okay. It is time. This truly is the beginning of the end.

It begins and an unfamiliar narrator describes the intensity of The City as we see Manhattan-at-night imagery. Totally doesn't seem like the other movies right off the bat. Oh also the score is a pop song that sounds like it is approximately 36 months older than this 1989 movie.

Okay… we're actually apparently back to Crystal Lake, and now that narrator is apparently a radio DJ who is giving a shout-out to the graduating kids of Crystal Lake. For some reason he cares about them and says something that is strangely both welcoming and mournful about them coming to the city.

These two attractive people are getting busy on a large boat on the lake. It is Crystal Lake, that is established, but this boat is too large for this lake. This is like having a Jet Ski on an above-ground backyard pool.

They drop the anchor and it catches on a high voltage cable that is running at the bottom of the lake! It makes sparky electro-fire under there, and it jolts probably-Jason's body under some of the collapsed dock stuff and he un-dies and climbs out of the water! We even hear a warlocky "ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"

Jason goes into the room where the couple is having another go, and he shoots a harpoon at the girl but misses! But he has some other stabby thing and he stabs the guy with it. The girl got away, but he finds her where she's hiding and kills her kind of slowly. Like, he very slowly bears down on her as she screams and it's like they have time for someone to save the day. But there is no one. No one saves the day. The day ends with her just getting stabbed with the harpoon.

Now it's new characters in a new place. Looks like the eastern seaboard, an ocean port, and some students are getting on a boat that is going to New York. It's the graduating students the DJ was talking about. There is a girl who interacts with a woman who is apparently her admiring teacher and a man in a suit who is her legal guardian. Something about her being troubled. Then there's this captain, and he's talking to one of the kids like they are father and son. His name is Shawn and he is handsome like a movie star.

0:16:00 - Whoa, Jason is suddenly on the ship! This is totally not Crystal Lake, and the ship has left the port, but Jason emerged from the water and grabbed onto the ship! Then Shawn runs into a creepy deckhand who tells him this cruise is doomed. That is important to the formula, apparently. It is then established that Shawn is the boyfriend of Troubled Girl. How troubled can she be if she has a boyfriend who looks like he was rejected by New Kids On The Block for being handsomer than the rest of the group.

The rollout of this motley cast of characters continues with a rocker girl and a longhaired filmmaking auteur. The rocker girl walks around with her guitar rocking, and the auteur films her for a video. But then they part ways, and she goes down below decks to experience the primo echo acoustics or something. She just rocks down there by herself with nothing but her rad axe. Not even an amp, even though she succeeds in playing loud rock music. But Jason shows up! He chases her a bit, gets his hands on her electric guitar and bashes her to death with it.

0:23:14 - Whoa, surprisingly ambitious shot they pulled off! In all one shot we see Jason come down some stairs onto like a promenade deck, then he looks at the porthole window of a room, and the camera goes through the porthole and continues through the room in a way that is not at all obvious to understand how they did it! Good job!

It's Troubled Girl's room. She has a vision of a drowning little boy. Little Boy Jason, I guess. If I’m supposed to know her relationship to Jason, I must have missed it.

So suit guy is Troubled Girl's uncle, I get that now. But also he is chaperoning the kids on this cruise so he's like a teacher. And he is very stuffy.

There are two new characters, boy-crazy girls, and between them and Troubled Girl there is a lot of hairspray in this movie's budget.

Uncle Suit walks in on Boy-Crazy 1 & 2 doing cocaine! He doesn't quite catch them in the act, so he just says something menacing about how one of them has a project due. But aren't they graduating? And on the "we made it" celebratory cruise? One of the Boy-Crazy girls (2 I think) is played by Kelly Hu, who has had plenty of success these past 30 years. But for now she is just Boy-Crazy 2.

Someone is in the sauna, this little ship has a sauna. I have no idea who the boy is in the sauna because he covered his face with a towel. Jason comes in and grabs a scalding hot rock, way bigger than the hot rocks that usually are in saunas, and kills the boy by shoving the big rock through his chest.

Boy-Crazy 1 has gotten it into her head that Troubled Girl is the one who got Uncle Suit to walk in on them doing drugs, so she bumps Troubled Girl into the water! Before getting fished back onboard she has a vision of Little Boy Jason pulling her down. Some other unrealistic interactions take place when she gets back on deck, but then she has really scary visions in the bathroom.

0:35:00 - In perhaps the most gruesome scene in this series so far… Boy-Crazy 1 is in her cabin wearing a silk robe. Uncle Suit walks right the fuck in and gets all huffy at her about "where's your biology project". He's serious! And she is ready for that question because she jettisons the robe to reveal that she has drawn some artful anatomy references on her underwear'd body! She's unambiguously seductive and kisses him and pulls him into bed! He is mostly not having it and eventually wriggles his way away from her scoldingly. But Auteur was filming! It was all a blackmail plan of some kind.

The next scene is Boy-Crazy 1, just moments after blackmailing Uncle Suit, getting out of the shower in her bathroom as Jason comes in. She sees him come in and look around and decides to just stay in the bathroom and be scared. But he smashes his arm through the door, tosses her around a little, smashes the bathroom mirror, and after another drawn-out approach, stabs her with a piece of the broken mirror.

In the very next scene, the ship's pilot is piloting when Jason creeps up from behind and kills him with something long and sharp and snippy. Then the Dad Captain comes in and finds the body, and just like that Jason is behind him with a knife. It's just a run-of-the-mill throat-slash but it's edited with a stylish frame-rate effect so it's still fresh and exciting.

Shawn finds this carnage right away and since he's the Captain's son he has some ship cred, maybe he can get the ship back to shore! But when he tries to radio for help, Jason cuts some cable somewhere to thwart it. And he just seems disappointingly clueless about what to do otherwise.

Everyone assembles in the cockpit - what do you call a cockpit on a ship, I forget - and Creepy Deckhand repeats his warning that the cruise is doomed, and this time he says he knows Jason Is on the ship to kill everyone, but Uncle Suit is so mad at that story that he grabs a knife and comes at the creepy deckhand! Others are around though so the fight is broken up.

Boy-Crazy 2 wasn't with everyone who went to the cockpit; she decided to go look for Boy-Crazy 1. But when she finds her body, she runs around screaming! And instead of ending up someplace where there is anyone, she ends up in the unoccupied disco. Loud music is playing. Lights are swirling. Sensory overload. And Jason is there! He kills her by strangling her to the kind of music that all the kids like nowadays.

Auteur always has his camera, and now he is shuffling around the ship with his camera in one hand and a shotgun in the other. Someone suddenly appears in front of him and he accidentally shoots the guy. He starts to feel bad about that, although continuing to film, but then Jason shows up, knocks the camera away, and chases him. He kills Auteur by picking him up and throwing him so hard at an electrical console that all the electricity blows up and makes him be on fire and twitchy and dead!

Shawn's friend from before is just wandering scared on the decks when he runs into Jason, so he climbs a ladder up a mast. Even though he climbs up way past Jason, Jason can still somehow reach up and throw him on some stuff, we don't see what stuff, but it makes him be Dead Friend.

Pretty chaotic on this ship; Jason watches some of them trying to figure out a place to be. Uncle Suit, what is his deal. He had an argument with someone about using the flare gun. There's a storm so no one will see it, someone says, but Uncle Suit makes some sinister comment about there only being one person that needs to see it. The fire is super problematic from Auteur getting killed, and now the ship is flooding for some reason? Is the storm just that bad?

Uncle Suit yells at Shawn, he says "this is all your fault!" What the hell is he talking about. Shortly thereafter Creepy Deckhand shows up and Uncle Suit aims the flare gun at him, he just thinks he needs to shoot Creepy Deckhand with the flare gun, that was his strategy all along! That and blame all these violent murders on one of the kids who fancies his niece. But the flare gun does nothing and Creepy Deckhand was already about to die anyway because there is an axe in his back.

The survivors have all now gotten into a lifeboat, and now they are just rowing away on a lifeboat. It's taking forever to get anywhere, just how far off shore were they? Their rowing is extremely weak and devoid of urgency to a level that puts it among the more unbelieveable things in this movie.

Uncle Suit literally snarks at Shawn, "I hope you can find shore soon, CAPTAIN! We don't all want to drown out here!" I admit, if they make his death really violent it will be satisfying. Yes indeed. Well played, Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan. Well played.

1:03:40 - Oh, the reason it was taking them so long to get anywhere in their little lifeboat is that they had to end up in New York harbor, right off Manhattan! They find a dock area and start looking around for help… and Jason also climbs up on the dock because he just was able to follow them there somehow.

Also, by the way, Troubled Girl's beloved dog came with them in the lifeboat.

They get mugged right there at the dock. Because Troubled Girl is pretty, the muggers take her away! They take her to their little headquarters in a gap between two warehouses, say "welcome to the casbah sister" and inject her with liquid narcotics… but Jason shows up and finds the needle that just got used, and he actually stabs the first mugger with the needle! Because he's Jason, he can stab someone so hard with a three inch needle that it writhes painfully all the way through his body and kills him! Another mugger tries to shoot Jason, but mugger bullets are no match for Jason Voorhees, so he clangs the guy to death on a metal pipe while Troubled Girl runs away.

One of the remaining students somehow runs afoul of Jason shortly thereafter, not sure how he got separated from the rest of the group. But Jason chases him onto a roof of a nearby building, and I'm sitting here typing this as many, many of this movie's seconds are spent with this student trying to beat up Jason with his fists! He just punches him and punches him and punches him repeatedly for a while, and Jason just sort of barely notices. Finally, Jason takes one swing and knocks the guy's head off.

Just as quickly as they all got inexplicably separated, the four remaining people from the cruise all run into each other with an NYPD cop, so it looks like everything is going to be okay… but when they get into the squad car, a mugger head is on the dashboard! Jason is there! He gets the cop! The rest are in the car so Troubled Girl drives away… but she has a stylish vision of Little Boy Jason, and that ends with Actual Jason on the ground inexplicably unmoving, the cop car ramming a building and exploding violently, and Troubled Girl's hair looking more fabulous than ever before. Three of them got out of the car before it exploded, but the teacher who was nice to Troubled Girl at the beginning isn't with them so maybe she blew up with the cop car.

1:17:00 - Oh a flashback! Young girl who is probably Young Troubled Girl is lake boating with Uncle Suit. POS that he is, he tells her that she needs to learn to swim or Jason Voorhees will get her, and he even pushes her into the lake so that she'll learn the hard way! What a tool! Little Boy Jason is down there, we see, grabbing at her ankles to hold her down.

Back to the present day, she confronts him about it and runs away. Then Jason gets up and walks at Uncle Suit! Why, he wasn't dead at all! Then a very strange thing happens which I don't think was a fully baked cinematic setpiece… Uncle Suit runs away into a building. Seconds later, Jason throws him out of a second floor window of that building. Then Jason is next to him in the alley where he fell, and he grabs him and shoves him in a barrel of sludge until he drowns.

All that's left are Troubled Girl and Shawn. She reveals that one of the reasons she's so troubled is that her parents died in a car accident and she was at school when she heard the news. Well of course she's a basket case, it's no wonder no one understands how to deal with her. That is the most intense story I've ever heard in my life. Or they just never got around to writing a more interesting story for this moment in the movie. But anyway, she and Shawn then shove their mouths together and it looks like that's the first time that's ever happened in all of human history. But Jason interrupts them and it's a chase down into the subway.

They get on a train. So much graffiti! What a dystopian nightmare! Is this the future the liberals want???!!! Jason is there though. There is no escaping Jason.

The train stops and Jason chases them down the tunnel. Shawn tackles Jason very bravely, and boy does that work out well for him because Jason totally fries up from touching that rail so hard. Shawn is fine though even though he was also rolling around and touching rails.

Troubled Girl and Shawn get up to the surface and are momentarily blinded by the dazzling lights of The Borough Of Manhattan, America's Most Exciting Borough, but then Jason, just fine as always, shows up. He chases them into a diner, makes some trouble there, and then chases them into a dead end alley. There is one way out though… through a manhole and down into the sewers!

They actually run into a sewer worker down there. Much of Manhattan has been inhabited only by gangs in this movie, so this is a pleasant surprise. He tells them that the sewer is about to have its regularly scheduled nightly flood of toxic waste so it's a good idea to not be in the sewers pretty soon.

But Jason catches up with them and kills the sewer worker by taking his wrench and clubbing him with it in a way that is cool shadows and blood spatter on the sewer wall.

Jason comes after Troubled Girl, but she spots a vat of toxic liquid and douses Jason with it! It messes him up! They are able to climb up a thing but all it gets them is a few feet above Jason’s head. But he can't follow because he's been toxic'd and that is making him gravely flummoxed. We hear the abstract sound of a drowning boy crying for help as a flood of toxic liquid rushes through, but just below where Troubled Girl and Shawn are clinging. It drowns Jason and when it goes away he is a little drowned boy. Shortly thereafter, they are strolling along Times Square and that dog finds them. It is the last thing that happens in the eight Friday the 13th movies that were released between 1980 and 1989.

So this movie was not campier or wittier than any of the others, and it didn't really try to be. It very much changed the setting, even though most of it was on that ship. It wasn't good. You should not watch it. I would advise against it. But if you do, may I please review your notes?

#friday the 13th

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a-tragedy-told-in-metals · 5 years ago

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A Tragedy Told In Metals: Copper & Arsenic

Chapter: 1 link AO3

Playlist (Youtube) Playlist (Spotify) Songs 1-3 apply to this chapter

CW: chronic illness, mild injuries, past abuse

[I’m just jumping to posting in real-time w/ my AO3]

Toni drummed her fingers on her desk watching the chemical formulas for different filaments swirling in front of her eyes. And then what she was almost positive would happen, happened: a red marker reading “failure” blinked in front of her. She dropped her sweaty head on the cool surface of her desk.

“We can keep trying,” JARVIS said.

“Yeah,” Toni muttered.

The formulas, graphs and test results continued to mock her from the screen and Toni sighed. She felt tired but grabbed the stupid chlorophyll shake and downed it. The disgusting drinks were meant to slow the poison. She was going through the motions, pretending this wasn’t as bad as it was. Just pushing through, she wasn’t dying, absolutely not. Except she was and had been since, well, probably since forever, but this particular threat had started the day she survived. It was horribly ironic that the stupid glowing light in her chest, which had saved her life, was now slowly killing her.

That level of irony was honestly funny but she was laughed out. Now it just left a bitter taste in her mouth along with the smoothie. Toni ran her hands along the hardened veins on her chest. The brittle feeling made her feel slightly ill, but that might just be part of the constant nausea she was going through.

Toni was really only going through the motions now. She had already finished writing her will The money was split four ways between charity, Rhodey, Happy and Pepper. Stark Industries went to Pepper. Rhodey got the suits, JARVIS’s mainframe and the Bots. Happy had his choice of cars. Properties, expensive stuff she had and shares of SI would just be split between her friends. Rhodey’s family also got some shares of the company to set them up past the cash Rhodey had.

Toni had it all planned out, it wasn’t guess work. The business had to go to Pepper, she was the only one Toni trusted to not turn Stark Industries back into a weapons company. Rhodey was the only person she would trust in a million years to take care of the Bots and JARVIS with the love they deserve, and, well, he did get the suits; he was the only one who could figure out how to use them if necessary.

“Toni!” Pepper said walking into the lab, her high heels clipping along the floor.

“Yes, Pep?” Toni re-buttoned the top button on her shirt before she spun to face Pepper.

“You returned these forms to me.” Pepper brought up a form on her Stark pad.

“Yeah I did, my signature is there and everything,” Toni replied pointing at the screen

“You signed this page, and the last one but there were a bunch of signature lines between them.”

“Oh,” Toni said with a sigh.

“This is like the fifth time you've done something like this. All of your work is like you’re trying to do it in your sleep.”

“I’m really not Pepper I’m just, ya know, tired. I’ve been busy with SI, and the Iron Queen and just like sleeping and life things.”

Peppers deep suck of breath at the words ‘Iron Queen’ did not go missed by Toni who directed her eyes away from the other woman.

“Well, you can’t leave me to do everything just because you want to fly around in your metal toys. It’s your company and half-done work, late reports, and missed meetings just aren’t fair to everyone else.”

“They aren’t toys. None of this is a game!” Toni shot back.

“Nor is your company! At least not to me, you’re the CEO and no one else is here to do your work for you anymore.”

Toni ground her teeth together as an image of the men who had run the company before filled her mind for a moment. She breathed out, steadying the immediate way her hands shook just thinking about them.

“I know that, okay? I do.”

Pepper sat heavily into the couch and looked to the side, her fingers resting on her lips. She shook her head softly, “I know you’ve been through a lot lately and all. But I’m being the CEO right now.”

A switched flipped into Toni’s head. Why not make Pepper CEO? It was her plan after she died anyway. Toni looked up, “Why aren’t you?”

“What?”

Toni stood up, she grabbed a long piece of scrap metal from her table.

“Ta’ da you’re the new Stark Industries CEO” Toni mimed knighting her.

“Haha, this is important Toni,” Pepper said sliding the scrap from her shoulder.

“I thought we established we weren’t joking tonight.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deathly.”

“Well umm, I think we should have the actual paperwork done up.”

“Sure, yeah, we can do that.” Toni nodded.

“Toni,” Pepper said in that “I’m about to say or ask you something you don’t want to answer” tone of voice.

“Yeah?” Toni replied exhausted

“I’m still going to need you to do some work though. You still own Stark Industries, and I assume you will want to continue working on product development.”

“Yeah, I know that. But now you don’t have to do two jobs anymore. You’re the only person I would ever trust with SI anyway. You’re better for the job anyway; you have the degree, the attention span and people skills.”

“Thanks, Toni. Can you still sign this though?” Pepper pointed to the tablet on the table.

“Sure, right.”

~~~~~

Toni was laying on her couch with ice on her knee, shoulder and head all at once. A particularly bad day of “Iron-Queening” had left her feeling really banged up. Everything hurt, but Toni almost didn’t mind. She was used to being in pain and destroying the Stark weapons cache was something worth getting hurt for anyway. Plus, she actually remembered how she got these injuries, which was cool.

“Ms. Toni, Ms. Potts and an unknown woman are at the door.”

“She armed or suspicious or anything?” Toni said sitting up slowly.

“Not on first scan.”

“Alright let them in.”

Toni sat all the way up and kicked an empty beer bottle under the couch and blinked till her vision cleared up. Pepper was trailed by a woman around her age with bright red hair and light skin.

“Toni, how are you?” Pepper asked.

“Peachy, all these ice packs are for fun!” Toni snarked.

Pepper sighed and rolled her eyes, “JARVIS and the legal department drew up the papers to change Stark industry’s CEO.”

“That's good, but who is she?” Toni pointed to the new lady.

“This is Natalie Rushman. She is going to be your new PA.”

“You're CEO shouldn’t you have one?”

“Oh I will I’m still looking for one suitable. I think you need one or you will never get anything done on time.”

“Hey, JARVIS reminds me of stuff.”

“JARVIS is soft on you.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes he is. He's almost as bad as Rhodey.”

Toni sighed.

Natalie walked forward and tried to hand Toni what she assumed were the papers from the legal team. But even if she rationally knew what it was she still flinched back.

“I don’t like being handed things.” Toni explained, “Can you put it on the table?”

“Oh. Yes ma'am,” Natalie said placing it down.

“Oh yuck, just call me Toni. We’re like the same age.” Toni leaned forward and signed the papers, and smiled at Pepper. “Now you're the boss.”

“I’m the boss?” She said returning Toni’s smile, which much to Toni’s annoyance made her stomach swoop. Apparently, that crush she had was not going away and it was really frustrating.

“Yup. Can you stay for dinner?”

“What are you ordering?”

“Actually I’m trying to learn to cook. So I'll make some Pasta. Apparently, cooking is a good skill to reintegrate into life, connecting with the body something, something.” Toni waved her hand as she walked stiffly into the kitchen.

“JARVIS better make sure you don’t burn the water,” Pepper said

Toni shook her head. It was quick work to make spaghetti, not something hard to do. Having Pepper with her made it more enjoyable, though. While Toni was working on making the pasta, she watched Natalie from the corner of her eyes. Something was off with her. Even with a permanently distracted state of mind, Toni could clock signs of Natalie not being what she seemed.

She was really stiff, unnaturally, so. Most people would be really fidgety when in a new place. She didn’t look uncomfortable, per se, and she wasn't so comfortable that it seemed like she had no emotions at all. Natalie just seemed...chill. Toni decided to test Natalie. Was it nice? Probably not, but she needed to figure out what was going on.

“So, Natalie, where are you from?” Toni asked.

“Ashland Oregon.”

“I’ve only been to Portland. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child like you. I’m not really close to my family.”

“That sucks. But friends are so much better than family, if your family’s shit.”

“I just moved here so I’m not close with anyone yet.”

“Well this is kind of a crazy place to meet people but the parties are still really fun.”

“Ah, partying hasn’t been my thing recently.”

“Recently? So was there a time it was?”

“Well, I had a bit of wild stage in high school and college. But I got my head back on straight at the end of college. I had to make sure to get good enough grades in class to get a job like this. ”

“What was your poison of choice?”

“Rum, weed the usual stuff”

Toni traced her eyes over Natalie, there hadn’t been enough pause, hadn’t been enough shame. She did smile, though, and lean into the table. Gave Toni a bright smile. It was charming, and she was for sure hot, but Toni knew fake people, had lived with them.

After eating Toni sucked in a large breath. It was time to enact the next part of her plan.

“Hey, can I show you something in the lab?” Toni asked.

“Sure. Visiting the lab is always a mix of cool and a disaster” Pepper said, turning to Natalie who shrugged and slid off the chair.

Down in the lab, Toni sat in her chair glanced behind her. Both women were watching her expectantly. Toni clicked on the keyboard and the design for her next Stark Pad came up.

“In between my Iron Queen life and having to go to your meetings I actually finished this design.” Pepper walked forward and slid through the specs on the screen. While Pepper was looking away, Toni kicked her foot under the table and caused a pile of stacked up raw material and tools crash to the ground. Pepper jumped and yelped like any normal person should. Toni watched Natalie closely as the redhead also quietly jumped, and then quickly assumed a fighting stance. Natalie’s eyes snapped around the whole room, not to the site of the crash. Yeah, she wasn’t someone ex-party girl PA.

Great, someone was in her house who was lying to her about, well, maybe about everything. Why did people keep making her life so fucking complicated?

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aristidetwain · 5 years ago

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The Author’s Dossier: “Remembrance of the Judicator”

@doctornolonger and @rassilon-imprimatur have both used their Tumblr blogs to write fun and informative “spotter’s guides” to the miscellaneous references in their licensed Faction Paradox stories. And, though they are of course further removed from Who than the further adventures of everyone’s favorite time-traveling goth cult, the adventures of Lady Aesculapius are indubitably another spinoff existing on the edges of the extended Whoniverse, no matter what a certain Wiki maintains. Besides which, I thought, “this looks fun”.

So while there may not be as much to say here as there might in future entries (fingers crossed on the existence thereof!), here is, without further ado, the official author’s guide to Remembrance of the Judicator, my short story from the Forgotten Heroines of the 10,000 Dawns 2020 April Fools’ Day event, available for free here. Obviously, this detail-attentive reread will spoil what little there is to be spoiled in this tale, so you should probably read it first if you haven’t already.

Enjoy!

REMEMBRANCE of the JUDICATOR

We kick things off with a classic “Phrase of the Creature” sort of title. The Phrase even begins with the letter “R”! This isn’t anything new ([1], [2], [3]) to the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids series, but I’d be lying if I said that classic Doctor Who’s famous use of such titles wasn’t on my mind when I chose this one; in fact, one of Who’s most famous “Phrase of the Creature” titles used “Remembrance” as its Phrase.

And you know what? Much as we might all admire 1988′s Remembrance of the Daleks, I think my plot justifies the use of the term “Remembrance” far better than Ben Aaronovitch’s. What are the Daleks remembering, exactly? Or is it that some other party is remembering them? If so, who and why?

So I hope you’re happy with finally having a “Remembrance of the X” story where what the X remembers actually plays a big part in the plot. Because to do this, I gave up on “Prisoner of the Jud…icator”.

“So on the bright side,” began Ashlyn Oswin, straining against her bonds, “we're not back with the talking cats.”

Starting ruthlessly in medias res: now there’s a trick that comes more from Duck comics than from Who. 1950′s and 1960′s stories, be they by Carl Barks or Vic Lockman, had a tendency to open with splash panels of the main characters in a ridiculous predicament and trying at half-hearted banter despite the situation, which would then spark a flashback to how they’d gotten there in the first place. Not that I employed a flashback.

Because who has time for flashbacks when you can instead reference a delightful bit of Ashlyn Oswin’s official James Wylder-sanctioned story? In fact, that Ashlyn spent some time in a dimension of talking cats was one of the things in her condensed character bio that came with the submission guidelines for the Forgotten Heroines Takeover event. The story, if anyone’s wondering, is The Days the Cats Spoke, from 2015.

When Ashlyn says “we” aren’t back with the talking cats, is she just referencing that story and using a rhetorical “we”? Or did the Forgotten Heroines run into the same talking cats again at some point between Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot and the opening of this story? You decide!

“Everybody wants to be a c...” Miranda began to hum sarcastically. “Hush, you can't sing that here,” barked a guard.

It would be wrong to characterize Disney’s The Aristocats (1970) as a guilty pleasure of mine, in that actually, I wear my Aristocat fandom proudly. The Disney movies of the 1970′s are, I find, generally very underrated. They made up for the lack of showy big-budget effects with stellar character animation, great voice performances — and the earwormiest of earwormy tunes!

Pictured below: me, setting out to write this story.

Anyway…

“No copyrighted music, are we clear?” “If you think I give a damn about that sort of thing, you have another thing coming,” the mysterious traveller in all of narrative space only known as the Tourist retorted, trying to take a daring stance.

The Collective of the Retconning Crocodiles’ policies regarding recognizable songs turns out to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who’s tried to upload a YouTube video lately. And significance the Tourist’s flippancy at the idea of caring in the slightest about copyright is, of course, immediately made obvious by a slight twist on that classic “mysterious traveller in all of Time and Space known only as the Doctor” line from the Doctor Who Target novelisations, and not-so-recently made hip again by Missy in World Enough and Time (2017).

In other words, as a first draft of Lady Aesc, the Tourist belongs to the same long tradition of riffs and remixes of the Doctor Who formula, divergent stories which are very much their own characters and their own stories, but who are also very conscious of being just different enough from old Theta Sigma that the BBC won’t mind. Copyright, to her, isn’t some scary taboo to be bandied about by scaly bullies, it’s an ongoing game of cat and mouse.

Could... specimens of... of whatever species she was... drown like regular people? Clearly they could trip like anyone else. Or get chained up by sentient crocodiles like anyone else. The real question was, could you drown in a Time Sewer?

Just what is the Tourist, aside from a lovable grimdark prat? “Not a Time Lord”, say any lawyers worth their salt; as much a Time Lord as I can get away with making her, I suspect is more like what the younger James Wylder who made her up originally envisioned. Just like Aesc herself, the finished version of the 10k Dawns riff on the aesthetics of the Great Houses, namely the Firmament, would end up striking a perfect balance of the new and the familiar.

But in the meantime, the Tourist’s crew can get confused about whether or not she has a respiratory bypass system, albeit not in so many words.

I had mentioned some time ago, via in-character blog comments, that the Crocodiles get about through, and reside in, repellant Time Sewers. A take-off on that whole “alligators in the sewers of New York” thing, don’t you know? But this was the first time I took my readers into them and elaborated at any length on how they work.

The Tourist and her merry crew had stepped out in search of the fluid leak that was so rudely interrupting their lackadaisical rampage through the slice of omniversal reality known as the 10,000 Dawns, and been immediately set upon by—

Wait, liquid from the Sewers clogs up the Black Pyramid’s systems, and their response is to go out to look for a leak? Well, I’m sorry. But then, how else could I work in a reference to the reason that a certain rip-off of the Tourist had for stepping out of his own Ship back in Dr. Who and the Daleks (1965)?

If Pathway had been here, there might have been some hope. Things seemed to get suddenly more serious when Pathway was around. Possibly because of the katana. But, alack, Pathway was not here, being busy following a probable wild-goose-chase for a Numbered connection in Dawn 789.

In James Wylder’s Prototype, another story in the Forgotten Heroines Takeover which ran before mine, but which I hadn’t read when I submitted Remembrance of the Judicator, we see Pathway squaring off against one of the Numbered whose designation is… 789. Here’s the scary thing: I swear this is a coincidence. Dawn 789 was just supposed to be a random Dawn and I had no idea quite what the “Numbered connection” really was.

(Or did Wylder add that detail to his draft in reference to my story, even though his story happens first and was released first? Who knows!)

“You've kept us alive, so clearly we're valuable to you.” “You're not talking to a Centro stooge, you know,” Ashlyn muttered with a glare in Shona's direction, which was rather impressive as they were tied back-to-back. “Maybe these guys aren't even capitalists.” “I should say not!” grunted the Crocodile, waving its spear closer to them. “We are in fact a Collective! The Collective of the Retconning Crocodiles!”

Shona, like many other characters in the 10,000 Dawns series, has spent a significant of time fighting against the tyranny of various versions of Centro Systems, a world-spanning megacorporation who, in a lot of the Dawns, acts as a world government for whom capitalism isn’t just an economic system, but an actual political philosophy.

The Crocs aren’t meant to be actual communists, of course — in their case, Collective is to be taken in the more sci-fi-oriented, “Hive” sense of the word. But the joke was too good to pass up. And anyway, whatever they are, they’re not capitalists either, even if they do try to make people sign contracts.

“Oh? Isn't this part of the 10,000 Dawns?” Miranda asked with a disappointed pout. “We were rather heading for the 10,000 Dawns here.” “Yeah, we had a whole thing going,” Ashlyn concurred.

The “heading for the 10,000 Dawns” made more sense back when I imagined that this would be the crew’s first adventure after escaping the draft universes, rather than the last before the finale.

Still, it all worked out: my story ran immediately after Alex Wakeford’s Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot, where some enemies whose tech has more than a little in common with the Crocodiles’ accidentally sent Ashlyn to a certain battlefield in what was clearly the bona fide Doctor Who universe. And of course, White Canvas (2018) established (if it still needed establishing) that this world isn’t part of the 10,000 Dawns, though it has had contact with them.

So maybe, just maybe, Miranda is actually talking about their having been on their way back to the Dawns from Earth-5556…

“I'm only a humble guard,” the Retconning Crocodile answered, “I'm sure I wouldn't know.”

Wholly meaningless reference to a beloved bit of Doctor Who dialogue? Or a hint that however the Time Sewers work, it’s similar to how Gallifrey in the Stasis Cube worked? Who knows! …Not me.

“Ugh! I know!” she cut it off moodily. “But don't say it in front of them!” She gestured at Shona and Ashlyn. “Miranda's like me, but they — they don't understand metafiction the way I do.”

Take it away, The Inexplicable Adventures of Bob:

“Behind those shades and that too-cool-for-school attitudes, you're just another intruder.” “I am far more than just another intruder,” answered the woman with the pyramid. “I'm the Tourist.”

The only direct allusion to Remembrance of the Daleks in this story, title aside.

(“You’re just another Time Lord!” “I am far more than just another Time Lord.”)

“Even if I had ever been human,” the Tourist answered through clenched teeth, “which by the way isn't admission one way or another—my method of travel would have turned me into something... more than human, one way or another, by now. Also, shut up, didn't you hear the reptiles?”

When Doctor Who decided to retcon, in 1969, that the Doctor was from an alien civilization that only coincidentally resembled humanity, perhaps the most intriguing piece of canon that was lost was the suggestion in The Evil of the Daleks (1966) that it was the Doctor’s travels through Time and Space which had made him “more than human”. At the end of the day, that is where the EDAs’ concept of biodata got started, too, I think.

“A little chaos between friends is a wonderful thing,” the Tourist boasted.

Not only is the Tourist a bit of a Doctor clone, she’s an unwieldily sturm-&-drang, “darker and edgier” Doctor clone. Sound familiar? Yep, the Tourist thus finds herself (nearly) quoting Sacha Dhawan’s Spy Master from Spyfall (2020).

“Not in the eyes of the Firmament it isn't,” the Head Crocodile boomed, thumping his staff against the marble floor for emphasis, and the four realized that it had retconned itself into having held a staff all along, just so it could do that. “Don't you see? They'll never allow your wanton interference to stand. Before day's end, I expect they'll press a massive Reset Button on the entire thing. The entire thing.”

I think it was the idea of Lupan Evezan (@drleevezan), in The Frost King’s Treasure (2019), that the Crocodiles would have technological gizmos at their disposal which have the names of, and the ability to effect, various popular tropes. A literal Red Herring which briefly makes anyone who looks at it think it’s a major clue in whatever mystery they’re trying to solve, that sort of thing. Case in point…

(Do the Firmament also call it a Reset Button, or were the Crocodiles just phrasing it in a way that would make sense to them? I’m not the person to ask.)

“Hold on, you're just quoting the Judicator's introduction paragraph in the original 10,000 Dawns webnovel, aren't you?” the Tourist interrupted, unimpressed.

And they are, too.

“No!” cried the Head Crocodile as all the other members of the Collective collapsed back into him.

See what I meant about the sci-fi sense of Collective? The Crocodiles are plural, but they aren’t really a set of actual individuals, or at least not all of the time. Someday I’ll write a story explaining this in more detail.

“To come to its conclusions,” the Tourist explained, talking down to Shona slightly (to her displeasure), “the Judicator draws from a sense of morality and from every record it can find of every law ever passed in history. So, if someone were to, say, go back in time and spam all legal records with an overwhelming number of new laws, stating that we specifically have to be let go under all circumstances — well — its hands would be tied, wouldn't it?”

This is an obvious, twofold loophole that jumped out to me when I first read 10,000 Dawns: feeding every legal system ever into a computer wouldn’t really get you the perfect jurist, would it? It’d first risk getting a blubbering wreck who can’t deal with the mountain of contradictions between the laws of 11th century China and mid-19th century Holland; and even if you get past that, it’s liable to be polluted with a bunch of useless, anachronistic laws. Nonsense like laws against being ugly in public would take up unnecessary but uncrunchable space in its databanks.

Still, I suppose the “but also it has to act moral” element mostly rights the logic. Our heroines are only able to exploit the loophole here because they have limitless time travel and because, as the heroines, they’re assumed to be in the right opposite the Crocodiles and thus favored by the Judicator.

“Ugh, enough soul-searching!” Miranda suddenly declared, and sprayed a portal onto the nearest wall. “I don't know how long it is before day's done. But in the meantime, let's have some adventures.”

#The Author's Dossier

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wealth4living · 5 years ago

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Price : $37.00

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Official Website : https://www.sloganseller.com

As more freelancers flood the online market, online opportunities continue to increase. Many individuals, today, earn their daily bread by doing simple tasks on different online platforms. Some of the jobs in the online niche that people embrace include freelance writing, affiliate marketing, earning by typing, or selling slogans.

All these jobs have made people rich. Some of these individuals leave their office work just to get serious with the online hustle.

The slogan seller website is a goldmine for people who are broke or are finding it hard to make money on the internet.

Introduction the Slogan Seller

Slogan Seller is a website that was created by Ben Olson, it is a Clickbank product that seeks to help you make money from the comfort of your home! Interesting isn’t it? This simply means that you will type few simple words and phrases every day and get companies to pay for them.

The Slogan seller is a website where users make and sell attractive but straightforward slogans using their computer. Once you come up with the phrase, the user will upload it online.

Different customers buy these slogans. Clients include large, small companies and individual buyers. If the slogan is good enough, you can make thousands of dollars with one single phrase or word.

What constitutes a slogan

Upon registering, the slogan seller provides you with a tool that helps you to create the slogans. The most effective slogans constitute of simple sentences, which comprise of two or three words.

People also use famous quotes, emoji and common phrases that are used frequently. For instance, from the site, you will find that phrases like, “OMG”, “Never Give Up”, “Be Yourself”, brought thousands of dollars to the ones who came up with the idea.

Note that individuals who make these slogans do not have to be graphic gurus or be familiar with the design world. No. Ordinary freelancers use pure knowledge to create slogans.

Where the Idea Came from!

The company’s founder is Ben Olson.

He never had an idea of establishing the company in the first place. The idea dawned on Ben when he had to drop out of school because he did not have enough funds to cater for his college fee. While in a conversation with a friend, he discovered that he would make money by typing slogans.

Ben went on to do his research. To his surprise, he found thousands of ways, which one to make money through writing. After the first tryout, Ben was able to make $4,000 with just three words: “Brewed To Perfection”.

After establishing the company, he was now able to make over $50,000 annually.

Steps to follow when using Slogan Seller by Ben Olson

You need to follow three easy steps.

1⃣Step one. Write a Slogan in which you are required or needed to type an ordinary word, phrase or even a symbol on your computer.

2⃣Step two. Upload the slogan online, you will only need some few seconds to upload you slogan up for sale.

3⃣Step three. The best step because it is at this step that you get paid, you make money anytime someone of a company uses your slogan.

Now you know what you need to do, it is as easy as 1, 2, 3!

Who would want to Work on the Site

Slogan seller offers extensive opportunities for people who want to:

✅Work at home. Office jobs can be tiring. Your current occupation may also bring little income at the end of the month. You also benefit from working few hours. Ben, in his review of the website, says that he only works less than one hour in a day.

✅Have multiple streams of income. You have to make various slogans so that you can make money. You have no limit on the number of slogans you can make when you come to this site. Slogan Seller was invented for people who would want to work from home

✅Use their creativity to make money. As mentioned in this review earlier, you do not need any graphic design knowledge to make a crazy and creative slogan. Besides, anybody can be creative.

Why Should Users Register on the Site

Most online entrepreneurs do not trust such companies because some of them steal your money. Therefore, new users will become reluctant because they think that they will be conned just like on some other malicious site.

On the other hand, this is not the case with the company.

As we did our research, we found no negative reviews about the site. Different reports stated that the site is legit. Here are some of the reasons why we think that this is a legit company:

1. User friendliness

The website is easy to navigate. Once you get into the site’s interface, you do not have a problem going through the site. Also, navigating through it is very easy.

2. Testimonials

When you scan through the website, different users compliment the system. In their reviews, they state that they were able to go through the training successfully, and started to earn money by creating slogans.

3. Money Back Guarantee

Users have to pay a fee to access all the site’s services. The amount tends to change depending on the discount that the company is offering at different times. If you feel that the site is not a place where you belong, or earn money, the system has a 60-day money-back guarantee where you can get back your cash.

Many people want to join the program. The most efficient way of short-listing them is by putting a fee on it. The charge will only invite intentional people into the venture.

4. Numbers do not lie

On the site’s landing page, the site’s owner posts different slogans, how much they made, and include screenshots of Ben’s PayPal account. I think this is enough evidence for any person who is uncertain about the authenticity of the site.

5. Safe and secure site

One thing that most people ignore to check is the site’s safety. Legit owners will invest in a stable system. A non-secure website will bring different malware to your computer, which can damage your machine or even privacy.

In this site, the team states that they use McAfee antivirus to enhance integrity.

What Happens After Successful Registration

After successful registration, the user will access all the site’s resources.

The system provides an eBook that gives a step-to-step detail on how to make money. It reveals three methods that you can use to start your writing business.

Method 1

The first method introduces you to the system and shows you different ways you can use to market your idea. New users will be taught on the meaning of slogans, and how to come up with the best phrases. Additionally, the book helps you to develop an idea out of a previous one. They should be original and make it purposeful to you.

The next section shows the different graphics tools to use to make it more appealing to the commercial buyer. The third part shows you how you to market the slogan. You will have a list of companies and products that would wish to buy your slogan at a reasonable price.

According to different reviews, this method is the best and the easiest to implement. Reviewers state that they were able to get quick results.

Method 2

The slogan seller system has different contests that a seller can join. Companies would spend massive amounts, even millions of dollars, to get a catchy phrase for their products. In these contests, the seller has to develop the slogan, and the system will reveal a list of contests to join. The method also gives you strategies to use to bring you more money in these contests.

Method 3

This strategy involves a lot of marketing. This is where the book shows you a list of companies that may be interested in buying your ideas. Once you get a potential buyer, make a phrase and submit it to them.

The seller should understand that the buyer has different guidelines and rules that they check when you submit the slogan. The buyer should adhere to these regulations; otherwise, the company may ignore their advances.

To help you to create a successful career in this industry, you will have other experienced slogan sellers who will help you to develop the skills that you need.

Other resources that slogan seller provides include:

⭐Video Tutorials- The team has created numerous instructional clips to help the user know how to use the different design tools

⭐Different design tools- These tools help to create the best and sophisticated designs

⭐Slogan Seller Provides the best designing tools for the best slogans in the market

⭐Access to profitable markets- As a seller you want to have a market that will give you a handful of opportunities that provide enough profit. Once you register, the system will give you access to these markets.

⭐Ready-made slogans- One slogan can resell repeatedly. Therefore, the slogan seller provides a formula for users to resell these slogans.

⭐Customer support- This is an essential tool in case you have a problem with the system. The team will be available to offer any help that you need.

The Slogan Seller support team is always available to help you with all your system needs

Pros

🌠Slogan seller is very easy to access and purchase.

🌠You get to open a new source of income that will help you cater for daily expenses without straining.

🌠Anyone can easily follow and understand the steps involved when using this Slogan seller.

🌠Slogan seller is versatile.

🌠You can purchase it conveniently because the price is pretty suitable and affordable

🌠There is a 60 Days full money back guarantee meaning purchasing the product is 100% risk free.

🌠There is a 50% discount for the product, it was $74 but now you can buy it at $37.

Cons

Expense depends on the quality of materials you purchase and pricing of materials in your area of residence.

Conclusion

According to this review (and many other reviews), the Slogan Seller platform is a safe, secure and reliable system. With it, you are assured that you will make more money at the comfort of your home. However, you should not assume that this as a get-rich-quick money scheme.

If it was, it must be a pyramid scheme. Therefore, buyers need to put in a lot of effort to ensure that they earn thousands of dollars that they have been dreaming of making.

The team encourages people to create as many slogans as possible. This is because not all slogans have the potential of bringing you much money.

If you earn a few dollars within the first month, do not give up. Put more hard work into it. This stuff really works… But you do have to invest some time in learning the system and creating the slogans. I honestly was not expecting much when I started this program, but I have been really surprised with the extent to which it has increased my monthly income. Definitely not a get-rich-quick scheme, so don’t expect to make instant profits with no work at all, but if you stick with it, it will really pay off.

You can get the terms and conditions on the official website . In the official website you will have more information about the product Slogan Seller and even more interesting you will have the opportunity to read user comments, product specifications and usage.

I hope and believe that this review has and will be of great importance and value for you who is looking into the idea of working online. Online businesses are amazing, nothing beats working at the comfort of your home, right?

Summary:

Slogan Seller is an online company where creative users earn by creating prolific slogans using short phrases, words, and emoji. I am happy to recommend Slogan Seller really to anyone out there who is considering to start working online, it works, but only when you take some time to learn the system well and get familiarized with creating slogans.

So what are you waiting for, go make money, Slogan Seller has it all sorted out for you?

>>>>Click this link if you’re ready to become a Slogan Seller – find out how to make those big profits selling simple slogans, simply following the guide!<<<<

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calzona-ga · 6 years ago

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Timely stories, inspiring legions of medical students and empowering women (and its cast): showrunner Krista Vernoff and star Ellen Pompeo and the rest of the cast talk with The Hollywood Reporter about breaking 'ER's' record as TV's longest-running medical drama.

Two weeks before Grey's Anatomy's March 2005 series debut, series star Ellen Pompeo thought her ABC medical drama was, in her words, "dead in the water."

"The day the network changed our title to Complications it was like someone died in here," leading lady Pompeo tells The Hollywood Reporter from the show's L.A. set during an early January visit.

The title change would not stick. Two days later, ABC would revert back to Grey's Anatomy and, now, 14 years and 332 episodes later, Grey's Anatomy, with Thursday's installment, will break ER's status as TV's longest-running primetime medical drama.

It's a feat that creator Shonda Rhimes and showrunner Krista Vernoff, who spent the first seven seasons working under the former, never expected during the show's early days.

"After we produced 10 of our 12 episodes that first year, I went away to make a pilot and my assistant stayed behind in L.A. and she called me and said, 'They're making us pack up our offices.' They made us move out. They didn't think we were getting a season two," says Vernoff, who worked with former ER showrunner John Wells on Showtime's Shameless before being hand-picked by Rhimes to take over Grey's in season 14. "We owe a huge debt of gratitude to ER — without it, Grey's wouldn't exist. … We have surprised everybody — and ourselves. The staying power is amazing."

And the Seattle-set drama really does have some staying power. Seriously. It ranks as ABC's No. 1 series for the 2018-19 broadcast season with an impressive average of a 3.1 rating among the advertiser-coveted adults 18-49 demographic. Grey's is also, sources say, one of Netflix's top performing acquired series. The streamer has helped bring in a new legion of viewers that further propels first-run originals on ABC. What's more, Grey's has global reach: It is the key asset among all the Shondaland shows that have been licensed in more than 235 territories worldwide and dubbed in more than 67 languages. Grey's remains a top performer for foreign broadcasters and has been adapted into localized versions in Mexico, Colombia and Turkey. The series remains a top-performing U.S. drama abroad.

"It's a $4 billion business and it's everywhere in the world," says Pompeo, who ranks as TV's highest-paid leading lady on a primetime drama series with $20 million per season (plus points of the show's lucrative back end and producing fees). Adds Vernoff: "Shonda says I'm leading a multibillion-dollar worldwide corporation but if I think about that for too long, I won't be able to get out of bed!"

Global Reach Every single one of the current 11 Grey's series regulars has a story about the impact of their show. Most of them include anecdotes from viewers — and their children — about entering the medical field and becoming surgeons and nurses because of Grey's. "Graduating female surgeons have gone through the roof since Grey's Anatomy started," says Caterina Scorsone, who is the only (primetime, live-action) actor to start on a spinoff as series regular and wind up holding the same status on the original series.

Kevin McKidd — who was originally cast as a love interest for Sandra Oh's Cristina Yang and has now appeared in more Grey's episodes than the Killing Eve star did during her tenure — was recognized a few years ago on a dirt road in the "middle of nowhere in Mozambique," where he was helping a doctor friend improve conditions at a local hospital. "To see that in the farthest reaches of a very poor and struggling country there was this show that inspires people was pretty emotional," he says.

TV legend Debbie Allen, who exec produces, directs and has a recurring role, says she's now approached more about her time on Grey's than her iconic part on Fame. "I was in Cuba and accosted by these young girls who were screaming, 'Katherine Avery!'" she says with a laugh.

Giacomo Gianniotti, who has been a regular since season 12, is now repeatedly spotted in his home of Italy. "Because I'm Italian, there's this pride — like one of us made it to America and made it on our show that we watch," he says. "I traveled to Kenya doing some volunteer work this summer and a lot of people approached me to say they love Grey's. The reach is just huge."

Sums up Pompeo, who had an impact off-screen when she fought for her record-breaking salary: "Everywhere I go I get, 'My daughter is a surgeon because of you.'"

Empowering From the Start Grey's was the first TV series creator Rhimes got on the air. (ABC previously passed on a Rhimes drama about female war correspondents). Grey's broke out in season two and became a cultural phenomenon, contributing terms like "vajayjay" and "McDreamy" to pop culture. Grey's has also birthed two spinoffs — Private Practice, which ran for six seasons and 111 episodes — and Station 19, which is currently in its second season on ABC. The success of Grey's has led to other opportunities for Rhimes, who really broke out with ABC's political soap Scandal. That series built on Rhimes' penchant for color blind casting on Grey's. (Former star Isaiah Washington nearly played the McDreamy part that went to Patrick Dempsey, while network execs expected Oh's role of Cristina to be played by a white actress.)

"When they had me come in to read for the role of chief of surgery, I hadn't seen an African-American in that kind of role before," says James Pickens Jr., who remembers sitting next to Rhimes at the 2005 upfronts when she hoped to get five or seven episodes on the air. "Grey's is more than just entertainment. Shonda always wanted to make sure that the show impacted the landscape in a way that we hadn't seen before on TV. I like to think that Grey's had a big part in how the industry casts shows."

In addition to Rhimes' breakout success — she left her longtime home at ABC Studios last year for a $300 million Netflix overall deal — the cast has also been able to add to their skillsets. Grey's has launched directing careers for stars including showrunner Vernoff, Pompeo (who made her debut in season 14), Jesse Williams, McKidd and Wilson, the latter of whom helmed Thursday's record-breaking hour. (Former star Sarah Drew also earned an Emmy nomination last year for directing a Grey's digital short.)

"The atmosphere here is if you want to try something, you're encouraged," says Wilson, who along with Pompeo, Justin Chambers and Pickens is one of the four remaining original stars.

For Williams, that outlook has also afforded him the opportunity to build up his own businesses. "Grey's has made a home for me so that I can launch three tech companies and can go on speaking tours and live a life. A lot of that has to do with being on a show that's run by women and people who can actually multitask," says Williams, who will direct again this season.

Grey's has also created a safe space for its (many!) pregnant stars, who have always been afforded job security. Wilson, for her part, thought she'd be written out of the series when she told Rhimes of her pregnancy early on in the show's run. Instead, it was written into Bailey's season two storyline (and the character's son is now old enough to have been featured in a season 14 episode exploring unconscious bias).

"Instead of shunning it and hoping you don't get pregnant, I watch producers actively encourage all of our actors to have a family," Williams says. "That is the formula and secret for longevity: feeding into a healthy life and happiness instead of running from it or trying to press you out of it."

Opening Hearts, Changing Minds Beyond creating a new legion of directors and producers (Pompeo has an overall deal with ABC Studios and produces both Grey's and Station 19), the long-running medical drama has made an impact on-screen with empowering storylines. More recently, Grey's has explored domestic violence with Camilla Luddington's Jo, unconscious bias and new stories for transgender characters. Grey's this season features a same-sex relationship with its first openly gay male surgeon (Alex Landi, whose Nico is romancing Jake Borelli's intern, Schmitt) as part of its "Season of Love." The latter is especially true for Pompeo's Meredith, who is now exploring serious relationships after losing her "person" when Dempsey's Derek was shockingly killed off back in season 11.

"The most empowering storyline for me has been to portray a woman who has lost the love of their life and what does life look like having to continue on after losing the right side of your body? Did his departure mean I no longer mattered or my magic and chemistry was somehow gone? We saw that I could stand on my own and that women who do lose their partners or children, there is a way for people to go on. To be able to portray someone who could go through the hardest thing you could go through — the death of a loved one — and to be able to portray the survival of that is the most meaningful," a tearful Pompeo says, comparing Meredith's loss to the passing of her own mother at a young age. "After that, you think you can't go on. … So it's all come full circle."

Other cast members point to medical storylines that have helped viewers diagnose loved ones. Wilson is especially proud of the cyclic vomiting syndrome episode, while Chambers singles out exploring mental illness with Alex's mother in a storyline first planted in the show's early days. But all involved can point to several subjects the series has explored that have helped open minds and let viewers see versions of themselves on TV.

"Callie and Arizona's wedding was a really big deal and you think of the different countries that the episode was broadcast in and they may not have thought they were ready for big things like that," Williams says. "Whether it was the transgender young woman I just met who felt like she was included because she saw a trans patient whose storyline wasn't focused on her trans-ness, or the police violence episode — which is close to the work that I do — the running theme is allowing people to feel seen and considered."

And sometimes the impact Grey's is making is subtler than a storyline or patient.

"I've had black women say that I'm the reason they decided to go natural with their hair," says Kelly McCreary, who has played Meredith's half-sister, Maggie, since the end of season 10. "If seeing me on screen representing our hair in its natural state freed viewers from any ideas they had about that being bad, unattractive or unprofessional or whatever else they're trying to feed us about it, that's remarkable."

Doing Something New (That Still Feels Familiar) Everyone on the Grey's call sheet will give credit for the show's creative and ratings resurgence to Vernoff, who as Chambers says, "hit a refresh button and reinvigorated the show." Kim Raver, who reprises her role as Teddy after previously serving as a series regular for seasons six through eight, feels the same old-school energy now that she did a decade ago and credits Vernoff for "infusing the quintessential Shonda Rhimes vibe of it." And while Vernoff smiles when told of the cast's kind words for her work, she is aware of the power that comes with writing for a beloved character like Pompeo's Meredith Grey.

"When Meredith Grey speaks, people listen," says Vernoff, who recently signed a big overall deal with ABC Studios. "There is so much darkness and so much to be frightened of and this show has so much impact. People have grown up with Meredith. So, my goal is to have a voice on the planet and to have an impact: to change hearts and minds."

Vernoff is aware that she is already achieving that impact. The showrunner — who has been outspoken about timely issues surrounding Hollywood including the #MeToo movement, salary parity and more — recalled a recent conversation with Rhimes in which the Grey's creator shared a story from a makeup artist who noted that his brother is a Korean gay man and was moved to see himself represented on screen. Other highlights include hearing from a current Grey's writers PA who wrote a letter sharing a story about experiencing his father's death at the age of 16 and finding solace in a storyline with George (T.R. Knight) and Cristina talking about the "Dead Dad's Club."

"To put my painful loss on TV and help other people through that is deeply meaningful to me," Vernoff says of the origin of that storyline.

As for what comes next, Vernoff did not want to write in a wink and nod to ER — fitting given her relationship with Wells on Shameless and the fact that the former NBC medical drama was one of the series that made her want to be a TV writer in the first place. Instead, Vernoff opted to do something that Grey's had never done before.

"In the 300th episode we did a huge number of winks at the show's history and beginnings. I don't know if ERdid it or not but what I came up with was a no-medicine episode," Vernoff says of the Grey's first. Adds McCreary: "We're in this party scene and I keep waiting for somebody to need a tracheotomy! But instead it's great because it feels like a real celebration of these characters."

Meaningful Milestone As the episode doubles as a celebration of sorts of the record-breaking milestone, the stars all share the same refrain when asked about the significance of doing a whopping 332 hours of television. All involved recall their initial shock that the series few thought would work has become the powerhouse franchise it is today.

"My goal was to do the pilot, take the check and pay some bills!" Wilson recalls with a laugh. Adds Chambers: "When we were in season two, I'd say to everybody, 'Do you think we've got two more years? I just wanted to get my kids to college.' And now some of them are done with it!" Pompeo also points to the record's value in the current TV landscape where viewers have an option to pick from nearly 500 scripted series and 700-plus unscripted offerings on an array of platforms as competition for eyeballs expands to other forms of entertainment like video games and podcasts.

"The fact that we're still the network's No. 1 drama and can stay afloat in this landscape after 15 years is incredible," Pompeo says. "It's also incredible in a larger sense because it's something that I resisted [and] that I said I would never do."

For his part, Williams has now appeared in more than two-thirds of Grey's Anatomy's total episodes after first joining the cast as recurring player Jackson Avery in season six. It's a jarring fact for the actor who initially thought the show would only be around for only a few more seasons when he first signed on. He now scoffs at those who use Grey's Anatomy as a punchline.

"That response — 'Oh, Grey's is still on' — at first, I took offense to it but now I don't because it's not really about our show; it's about the business because shows don't last that long," says Williams, whose tech companies are all inspired by the message of visibility he sees every day on Grey's. "I'm really proud of what we do here — I wouldn't be here this long if I wasn't."

The Future While Grey's has not officially been renewed for its 16th season, it's considered a lock as Pompeo's deal covers the 2019-2020 broadcast season. ABC Entertainment president Karey Burke and ABC Studios topper Patrick Moran both bow before what Pompeo and Grey's have been able to accomplish. "We are awed by this rare and incredible achievement," Moran says. "To make 15 seasons of television that are creatively fresh and compelling — and now record breaking — is almost unheard of, but Shonda, Betsy Beers, Krista, Ellen and the incredible cast and crew have managed to do that. We're very proud of this show and this team." Adds Burke: "How fitting and well deserved it is for Grey's Anatomy — a show that never ceases to inspire, surprise and move us — to achieve something no other primetime medical drama can lay claim to. The creative bar set by Shonda, Betsy, Krista, Ellen and the entire cast and crew will keep this iconic show in rarefied air for generations, and as one of their millions of fans, I congratulate them on this historic milestone."

Pompeo, too, knows she has experienced something special in her decade and a half on Grey's, where she has been afforded a rare ability to evolve Meredith as a character while growing as an actor and producer. "I've come full circle on this show from being an actor with no voice, no say and terrified to speak up or advocate for myself in any way," Pompeo says. "I'm now someone who is heard here and who has a say here. I'm one of my bosses and that's an unusual situation for an actress in Hollywood — to get to say what I want and what I don't. If I left the show, I don't think I'd have that same situation anywhere."

That's not to say Pompeo hasn't toyed with the idea of leaving Grey's over the years. The actress has been candid many times about experiencing the nagging pull many stars on veteran series experience as they consider leaving and taking on new and different roles. But at the end of the day, the idea of stepping away from something as big as what Grey's Anatomy has become has proven impossible.

"You can't ignore the worldwide phenomenon that this show is. How do you walk away or ignore that?" Pompeo says. "Being the face and voice of something that can generate that much money, there's only a very small number of people who can say that they have achieved that. If you're lucky enough to be the face and voice of something that's generated billions of dollars for a network, that's something to be proud of."

Meanwhile, Pickens is in talks for a new deal that would see him continue on as Grey's Anatomy's elder statesman Richard Webber. ("Nothing is solid yet but more than likely, I'll be here," he says.) Pickens adds the thought of going after Gunsmoke or Law & Order: SVU — the latter of which will break the former's record as TV's longest-running primetime drama series when it is renewed for its 21st season — remains "intriguing." Wilson, for her part, has one goal in mind now that Grey's has snapped ER's streak. "I would love to be a starter and a finisher of a thing," says the original star, whose contract is also up this season. "When the show is ready for that last shot, I want to be in that."

Seeing Ghosts Of the many notable cast departures, Vernoff, Pompeo and the cast all have quick answers at the ready when asked about which former Grey's co-stars they'd like to bring back to Prospect Studios:

Pompeo (Meredith): "I would love for Sandra Oh to be on the show but not more than I love seeing Sandra Oh out there in the world doing her thing. Not more than I love seeing her shine on her own at the Golden Globes and on Killing Eve. So I would say no [to that]. I love everybody who has been on this show, regardless of their time here and whether it was tumultuous or not."

Chambers (Alex): "Richard Herrmann. He played my intern for a while and was such a joy to work with. He passed on but I felt very lucky to work with him."

Wilson (Bailey): "Bailey was crazy about George O'Malley. But the thing about our show is we always keep our past characters alive; there is nobody we don't ever not talk about because every one of those characters has been the foundation for why we're here."

Pickens (Richard): "I've been in this business almost 40 years and Sandra Oh brought something very special to every scene."

McKidd (Owen): "Sandra Oh's Cristina, especially the way things are right now with Amelia, Teddy and Owen. To throw her into the mix at the same time? Owen would literally keel over and never get up again."

Raver (Teddy): "Sandra Oh. I started off having crazy, intense scenes with her — like when Henry (Scott Foley) was dying and I love her as a friend and admire her as an actress."

Williams (Jackson): "Frances Conroy. She was here in season seven and I didn't get to work with her. She is tremendous and was on one of my favorite shows ever: Six Feet Under."

Luddington (Jo): "Kyle Chandler. I love Friday Night Lights."

Scorsone (Amelia): "Chyler Leigh (Lexie). She is so much fun and is great with drama and comedy. I'm sad that I didn't get to work with her more."

McCreary (Maggie): "Kate Burton. I'd love for Maggie and Ellis to interact. Kate and I did a play together in 2014. She's one of my favorite people."

Gianniotti (DeLuca): "Jessica Capshaw. We would laugh until snot was coming out of our noses. I miss having her around."

Allen (Katherine): "I had so much fun directing Patrick Dempsey when he was here. I nicknamed him Dash because he would come on the set, look at his watch and want to keep it moving. He never liked to do a lot of takes but was always great. I didn't get to act with him but I did some of his best scenes while I was here. We think of him fondly."

Vernoff (showrunner): "Sandra Oh. I miss writing for Sandra and Cristina."

#grey's anatomy #Ellen Pompeo #justin chambers #chandra wilson #James Pickens Jr.#kevin mckidd #kim raver #Jesse Williams #camilla luddington #Caterina Scorsone #kelly mccreary #Giacomo Gianniotti #Debbie Allen #Krista Vernoff

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thefandomdirtymind · 7 years ago

Text

Magic Touch 4

Marvel

Tony Stark x Reader

Magic Touch Serie : Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

The next morning, you found the store in a real mess. Everywhere, construction worker was busy like ants. A small group was placing the new window, repairing the one Iron Man had destroy when he does his entrance to save you. Other was cleaning the floor, removing the torn tapestry or changing the broken lock.

Pushing the door, you nod of the head at few curious worker. Sit at a small table, you boss was drinking a coffee with two gentleman, wearing both a suit who’s probably cost more that you whole wardrobe. Lifting his eyes of the paper in front of him, he leave his chair for greeting you.

“ Y/N ! How are you, the police tell me what’s happen, you was already gone when I had reach the store yesterday, i’m so glad you’re okay ! “ He exclaim, showing you more emotion in that huge minute that he have in the entire five years of business relation.

“ I’m fine, a little bit tired, but, it will pass when I will start working” You say, looking around you, trying to estimate the time it will take to be ready to open.

“ I’m not sure if we will open today, in fact, Y/N I want to present you Mr. Freeman and Mr. Elwes. They are the lawyer and architect of Mr. Stark. He had make a offert to buy the shop ! “

Surprise, you look at him, greeting finally the two men before being impolite.

“ He want to buy the coffee shop” You ask, like if you wasn’t sure to heard right.

“ Yes “ Mr. Freeman, the lawyer, reply with a voice more low that you though he possess.” Mr.Stark desire to buy this coffee, he already pay for the repair of the broken window and other importante need of the store. He don’t want to change the formula, but maybe doing some architectural amelioration and change the hours of opening. It’s really clear in the request he made. “

Opening you mouth, you close it quickly, now knowing the real reason of his little illogical business decision.

“ I should work a little for at least two customers” You say “ Mr. Stark and Mr. Happy take their coffee here each morning without exception. If we don’t open today, I suggest I bring them one, It could be a bad idea to not give what he like to our new boss “ You said, removing already your coat.

“ Good Idea Y/N,the kitchen is clear and clean, like you let it yesterday" The little man say,losing all interest in you, taking his sit again to finish is meeting with the business man.

" The tower is under protection, we not sure they will let you come in, but, maybe we could call Mr. Happy to come here take the coffees." The architect inform you with a kind but superior smile.

" I'm not worried, Jarvis know me, he will open the door for me i'm sure " You let escape before heading to the kitchen.

Waiting for the coffee to be ready, you start to draw on Tony’s cup. Your first though was to draw the Iron hand pouring dollars bills, but you think it could be a little bit childish. After all, you wasn’t completely mad that he brought the coffee shop, just a little bit irritated that he didn’t talk about it before and, even if the reason was pretty evident, you try to scold yourself that maybe, buying the store was already in his mind before the event of yesterday. You finally drew the iron man mask, adding the last few reflect detail before pouring the precious brown liquid and adding the cinnamon touch.

Putting the two cup and the small bakery bag in a travel tray, you put your light coat on and leave the construction area behind you, traveling the small way between the tower and your work place.

Standing in front of the large glass door, you look around, trying to find a handle or at least the small button of an interphone. But, you found nothing else that the plate with the number of the building.

“ Hello, my name is Y/N Y/L/N I came to give Mr. Stark and Mr. Happy their coffee. “ You say at loud, hoping that someones what looking at you with an hidden camera.

“ Miss Y/L/N, welcome back, I will inform Mr. Stark that your here. “ The familiar voice of Jarvis inform you, opening the door in the same time. “ I hope you have sleep well, it’s a true pleasure too see you again.” The robotic voice say.

Smiling, you passing the door, enjoying the beautiful effect of the sunlight on the white marble.

“ Good morning Jarvis. I sleep well yes thank you. I’m really glad to talk to you too.” You answer, liking more and more the artificial assistant.

The sound of the elevator door opening, take you by surprise.

“ Mr. Stark wait for you in his workshop.”

“ Good, can you please inform Happy that I have a coffee for him too ? “ You ask, not wanting to give a cold breuvage to the so sweet bodyguard / driver.

“ I have inform M.Happy about the coffee, he seem really glad you have think of him, you can put it on the desk.”

Obeying, you leave the cup and one of the chocolate pastry with a napkin on the long pale surface.The elevator cabin seem more bigger that the night before, but, you didn’t say it out loud, thinking that maybe it was an effect of the small shock you have suffer.

Stepping inside, you watch the door close, a nervous feeling starting to grow in your stomach. What happen if Tony just act with you like your kisses never happen, it was maybe a way to calm you down, after all the man is a well know womanizer when he's single.

“ Have a nice day Miss Y/L/N” Jarvis finally said busting your thought when you reach the secret workshop.

“ Thank you Jarvis” You reply, looking the door opening.

A loud rock music you knew was filling the room, AC/DC, back in black, was amplify by the tall metal wall. Somewhere in the middle of the room, Tony was standing in front of his desk, wearing a casual sweat pants and tank top, clearly waiting for you. A pair of protection glasses was crossing his messy brown hair, a smile you never seen before was on his lips.

“ Jarvis, low the volume. Morning Y/N what a surprise and a kind attention” He say, approaching you, taking the tray to put it appart, focusing is attention in you and only you.

His hand, previously handling the carton tray, was now on you waist, pulling you slowly closer. His brown eyes lock in your yours.

“ Can I kiss you or it was only a luck I had yesterday ? “ He ask you, joking but asking for your approval.

Biting your lips, you smile, the knock in your stomach now totally vanish.

“ You can, but we have to have a talk after “ You answer, already closing your eyes.

“ Talking ? It so overrated, i’m more a lover that a talker” He respond, putting finally is lips on yours.

The kiss was as magical that before. The man knew exactly when add his tongue and how much pressure he have to put with his teeth on your bottom lips to make you melt.

Stepping back slowly, you try to not blush or show that this kiss was the better "good morning" of your life. But by is small smirk, you knew that he already know that.

" Thank you for the coffee love" Tony say, giving you some space you didn't want, for reach his coffee cup and spy in the pastry bag.

" Tony, you want to buy my workplace...why ? " You finally ask, having a last hope that maybe it wasn't because of you after all.

Tony stay silence for few minute, enjoying the first slip of hot coffee and cinnamon crashing like a wave on in tongue. Once the first drop of caféine had reach his soul, he gave you a side look, trying to understand if you was angry or not.

"Yeah well, the decoration wasn't really modern enough. I think we can make it a really big affair, with your wonderful coffee and maybe some iron man exclusive picture hang on the wall, it could be really great and maybe opening other store in the futur" He say, joking a little. But, you easily see that he was hiding the true reason. His smile, usually so bright was going on and off.

" You bigger demand was to stop the late shift. It's was not just about become modern " You reply, crossing you arms.

"Fine, I judge that it wasn't enough secure and your boss isn't really into putting more security so I buy it. You will be safe and it will be more easy for me to not....thinking of you all the time, wondering if your okay. It was a necessary transaction" He finish, now serious.

"Yesterday was an accident...an event who’s happen sometimes but not always. You don’t need to do all that.” You protest, discovering a new part of the personality of the billionaire.

“ Yes I have to, I’m Iron Man, it’s my job to protect people...and I have to protect even more the people I care about. “ Sighing, he put the cup down. “ Take it like a upgrade of the administration if you want, but please, do it for me.”

“ How can you care that much...we just start to know each other” You shyly retort.

“ I know “ He reply. “ but the way you act with Happy, he really like you by the way. You’re personality, these funny little draw you take time to put on each of my cup...this funny but so innocent view of the world, I like that and I want to see more of you. Maybe take you on a date ? “

“ The famous Tony Stark do that, having dates ?” You tell with humour, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Laughing, he take you in his arms.

“ Yes I do sometimes, come on, i’m not just a genius, rumor say that i’m human too” He joke, stealing you a kiss. “ I have a charity gala tomorrow night, please tell me you will come with me. Or I will have to bring Happy and he will look horrible in the dress I have plan to give you “

Laughing at the mental view of the big guy in a dress, you bite your lips.

“ It’s a date then”

“ It’s a date” He reply, offering you a wink. “ So, now your here, what do you thinking of a visit of my workshop “

Giving a look to the sexy man, you softly smile.

“ Show me your world, genius”

Tag : @jadepc

#marvel #marvel imagine #Avenger #tony stark #Iron Man #iron man imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #imagine #Robert Downey Jr

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recentnews18-blog · 6 years ago

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The creator of 'BoJack Horseman' comes from a home of funny Jews

Jerusalem draws in animation bigwigs from all over

Antisemitism czar slams German cartoon as ‘Nazi propaganda’

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Bojack Horseman. (photo credit: YOUTUBE SCREENSHOT)

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While growing up in Palo Alto, Raphael Bob-Waksberg was a serious consumer of popular culture. He would watch TV for hours on end and view movies over and over until he memorized them. In particular, he was a huge fan of “The Simpsons.”

“We used to talk about Bart and Lisa at the dinner table as if they were real people,” said his mother, Ellen Bob.

Nowadays, the conversation around American tables is more likely about “Bojack Horseman” a successful Netflix animated series created by Bob-Waksberg. The show’s fifth season premiered on Sept. 14.

In addition, Comedy Central recently acquired the rights to reruns of “BoJack Horseman,” reportedly making it the first Netflix show to enter TV syndication in the United States. Season 1 reruns are scheduled to begin on Sept. 26.

The show is an adult drama-comedy set in an imaginary Hollywood populated by humans and anthropomorphized animals (the eponymous main character, BoJack Horseman, has a horse’s head and man’s body), and has catapulted Bob-Waksberg’s career to new levels in the real Hollywood.

In addition to his work as head writer and showrunner for “BoJack,” Bob-Waksberg is developing new shows for Netflix and Amazon. He’s also writing a book of short stories scheduled to be published next year by a major imprint.

The 34-year-old’s success has come as no surprise to family, friends, rabbis and teachers in the Bay Area who nurtured his creativity and independent thinking from an early age.

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“I think Raphael was really headed in that direction since his teen years,” said family friend Nechama Tamler, a longtime Jewish educator who early on recognized his writing and performing talent.

Simultaneously sad and funny, but mostly funny, “BoJack” is a satire about the elusive nature of happiness. It has gained praise for its intelligent writing that does not adhere to the typical sitcom formula, and there is no emotional closure at the end of each episode. It’s an ongoing, frustrating effort for characters to learn and grow from their mistakes, and to grapple with the meaning of existence.

The titular character, the deeply flawed BoJack Horseman (voiced by Will Arnett of “Arrested Development”), struggles after his successful acting career flounders. Fans still recognize BoJack for his role as a young, single guy who adopts three orphans in a popular late 1980s sitcom called “Horsin’ Around.” However, now he’s a 50-something depressive addicted to alcohol and drugs. Critically, he lacks the required self-awareness to stop from hurting himself and those closest to him.

When Todd (voiced by Aaron Paul of “Breaking Bad”), a slacker who lives on BoJack’s couch and suffers the equine actor’s constant indifference, has had enough of BoJack’s apologies, he yells at him: “You can’t keep doing shitty things and then feel bad about yourself, like that makes it OK. You need to be better … You are all the things that are wrong with you. It’s not the alcohol, or the drugs, or any of the shitty things that happened to you in your career, or when you were a kid. It’s you.”

The message is that there are no easy answers, and that making amends takes hard work. Ultimately, actions speak louder than words.

Bob-Waksberg’s father, David Waksberg, recognized the Jewishness of this value immediately.

“When a friend asked me about it after the first season, I said it was about teshuvah,” he said, using the Hebrew word for the Jewish concept of repentance.

For his part, Bob-Waksberg wasn’t quite sure how to answer when asked whether his Jewish identity influences his writing, and in particular the melancholic humor of “BoJack.”

“Asking me that question is like asking a fish how much being in water has affected it,” he said.

Bob-Waksberg grew up in Palo Alto in the late 1980s and 1990s with two younger sisters, Becky and Amalia, in a family that was — and still is — very involved in the Jewish community. David Waksberg worked to free and resettle Soviet Jewry, and is now the CEO of the San Francisco-based Jewish LearningWorks, the central agency promoting Jewish education in the Bay Area. Ellen Bob ran a Judaica store (Bob and Bob) with her mother for 26 years, and in 2011 joined Congregation Etz Chayim as executive director.

Humor was always central to life at home.

“We like to laugh … big belly laughs,” Ellen Bob recalled. “David is a great storyteller and joke teller. He would regale the kids with routines from Steve Martin, Woody Allen … and songs from Tom Lehrer. I’m more of a wisecracker. Like my son, nothing gives me more pleasure than to make someone laugh.”

She said she is always pleased when her son makes a point of telling his interviewers (and there are many) that his was a happy childhood, and that BoJack’s family is not based on his family of origin.

“I’m delighted to be known as Raphael’s mother, as long as people don’t think BoJack’s mother is based on me,” she said, alluding to Beatrice Horseman (Wendie Malick), a neglectful and abusive heiress to a sugar cube company who appears primarily in flashbacks.

In looking back on his childhood and adolescence, Bob-Waksberg pointed to Mid-Peninsula Jewish Community Day School (now Gideon Hausner Jewish Day School), the Palo Alto Children’s Theatre and the Gunn High School drama program as other outlets where his creativity was rewarded.

“In school, there were a handful of teachers who understood me. And there were many who didn’t. I didn’t make it easy for them,” he joked.

Rabbi Sheldon Lewis, rabbi emeritus at Congregation Kol Emeth in Palo Alto, recalled Bob-Waksberg as “not an easy student” in the religious school.

“It was because he was so clever and beyond his years in creativity, humor and mischief,” he said.

Despite having grown up in the Palo Alto academic pressure cooker, Bob-Waksberg was never saddled with any expectation that he would become a doctor, lawyer or founder of a startup. His parents were always supportive of his creative leanings.

“It was pretty clear to me that he was going to need to figure a way to make a living through the arts because it was the only thing he knew how to do,” his mother said.

Like “BoJack Horseman,” the shows Bob-Waksberg is writing for Netflix and Amazon are also animated. It’s not a format the graduate of Bard College in New York originally planned to work in when he moved to Los Angeles after trying his hand at comedy writing in the Big Apple.

In his spare time, he collaborated off and on for a decade with his high school friend, illustrator Lisa Hanawalt, on a cartoon featuring human-like animals, which became the basis for “BoJack.” Hanawalt is now a production designer and producer for the show.

The program was in development with Michael Eisner’s company, Tornante, for a couple of years before it went to Netflix, which wanted it to be put into quick production for a summer 2014 premiere.

“I didn’t know I would get into animation. I was initially writing for live action, but ‘BoJack’ is the one [project] that went,” Bob-Waksberg said.

He said this decade has been an exciting time to be working in animation, and that he has an appetite for more.

“Animation is a format, not a genre,” Bob-Waksberg said. “There is a lot to do in animation for adults. What has been done in the past has been limited in scope and has lived in the shadow of ‘The Simpsons.’ The new shows I am developing are about women, which is really fresh.”

Much has changed for Bob-Waksberg in the past few years. On the personal side, he was married a year ago.

Bob-Waksberg and his wife have not yet found a synagogue in Santa Monica that feels like the right fit for them, but they welcome Shabbat on Friday evenings at home.

“My wife grew up more observant than me, so she has been a good influence and has helped me reconnect to Jewish practice,” Bob-Waksberg said. “We even had benchers [blessing booklets] at our wedding, which surprised my parents.”

Professionally, Bob-Waksberg has become more aware of his role and responsibility in the pop culture universe. First, he checks himself as to whom he hires, ensuring that he brings in writers and cast members of diverse backgrounds.

Additionally, he doubts he would now make some of the jokes he made about anti-Semitism, the Holocaust and Nazis in the show’s first season.

“Those jokes were made in the spirit of Mel Brooks, in the sense that you have to laugh at the things that scare you,” he said. “But now I think a lot about how what is said on ‘BoJack’ will be perceived by the audience.”

Speaking to that point, Bob-Waksberg recalled how, as he was growing up in Palo Alto, other kids would tease him with anti-Semitic taunts they had heard on the Comedy Central animated series “South Park.” The writers of that show meant it to be satirical and did not intend to actually be anti-Semitic, but that was lost on Bob-Waksberg’s young tormentors.

He would hope that viewers take dialogue from “BoJack” in context, understanding that it is not what the writers are saying, but rather the flawed characters’ thoughts or opinions. However, Bob-Waksberg said he is more averse these days to taking a writing risk, lest the point be lost or weaponized.

“If we make jokes that are bad for society,” he said, “then it is on us.”

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Source: https://www.jpost.com/Israel-News/Culture/The-creator-of-BoJack-Horseman-comes-from-a-home-of-funny-Jews-567244

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