cactusy | IC contact for lastvoyages

I don't know. I don't know what to do with you jumping wildly from "I'll try to do better" to "I'm never going to get better, I'm just broken" to "Actually I'm fine and it's everybody else that's wrong". Your communication is maladaptive, Bright, and at some point you're going to have to actually work on fixing that instead of relying on translators.

I'm broken, too. There are things wrong with my brain that can't be fixed, but how I act and what I say is still on me. When I kept saying stuff that made people think I wanted to storm through every inmate cabin and steal all their possessions because I hate them all, you know how tempting it was to just throw up my hands and say that if they were reading me wrong, that was their problem, not mine? And you know what, I still think some of 'em were being kind of stupid and reactionary. But at the end of the day, we have to take some personal responsibility for ourselves, so I bucked up and did that. And I hated it. And it sucked. But I did it anyway.

So, uh-- I guess that's my answer. If you want to try even though it's hard and you're messed up, then fine, let's keep slogging. But if you just wanna equivocate and make excuses, then I don't really see the point in us talking anymore, Will or no Will.

I already said I would try harder. Nothing I said after that contradicted that, except for what you read into it. You ask me to explain my thoughts further or my process further or I ask you clarifying questions about yours and you assume that means I’m not going to try or that I think I’m not even the problem. You were trying to shame me into trying harder - after I already agreed to - by telling me that you and a lot of other people were pissed off with my way of communicating. I was only pointing out that you can only speak for yourself, if specific people haven’t made the same complaint to you; you can’t… hypothesize peer pressure. And you don’t need to, because I already agreed. And while I agreed to try harder, I said I don’t think you actually understand me well enough to tell me what that looks like and when you asked me to explain, I told you how much I’ve already worked and how hard I’ve already tried because I want you to be prepared for it to not get much better than this. I’m not going to go ‘well, time to be a Real Boy’ and become a witty and sparkling dinner companion like I’m suddenly Neal, okay? Do you think if I could just be Neal, I wouldn’t? Everybody loves him. And they should. But the point is, I said I would try and only you decided that anything I explained subsequently meant that I wouldn’t and that is why we need Will and I can’t believe someone as smart and analytical as you can’t see that.

Also, can I ask one more question without it contradicting my assertion that I’ll try harder? Why does every conversation we have have to be about fixing me? Can’t we talk about anything else sometimes? Do I have to pass a functionality barrier to be just your friend? I’m not your inmate; it’s not really your responsibility to fix me, you know.

We can't have a normal conversation about other stuff because every time we try, you do something that puts me on edge. Every conversation turns into me trying to teach you how to talk to me without doing that because you can't do it on your own.

But all I'm getting here is a bunch of excuses, so yeah, I'm done trying. I've given you a bunch of examples of how you can moderate your own conversational output to make things easier with me. You don't wanna do that because you think you shouldn't have to, because your intentions should be enough? That's on you.

Good luck pulling your head out of your ass, Bright.

…What? I never said I shouldn’t have to! I did ask why we can’t meet in the middle. I still think that would be fair, actually, since we’re talking about just you and me again and not everyone I’ve pissed off. But you know what? You’re the one that’s manipulative. I only asked for your time and to get to know you better. Now the deal is you’re withholding your friendship until I change because you don’t like this me? Be a normal person and just say you don’t like me and you don’t want to be friends. If you need lessons in how to do it brutally, ask Eiffel.

[He cuts the call.]

Like what, in post-orgasmic haze?

[She asks, walking her fingers up Root's back.]

-- I had a whole plan. I was gonna tattoo a ring on you.

Hey, progress is progress. Neal reaches over to give her a stupider version of a wet willy aka trying to stick a bit of popcorn in her ear.

Not deep, okay, he's not that much of an idiot.

"Well, technically you're both bachelorettes, so there could be a joint bachelorette party, or as your siblings we could be tasked with arranging both."

Mmhmmm. [ She nuzzles Shaw's cheek. The way Shaw looks satisfied, relaxed, not thinking about someone trying to kill them, certain that this is real. ]

You still should. It'll be the best ring ever.

Gimme your hand.

[Shaw says, sitting up a little and reaching for the gun.]

I figured there are times when a real ring would be a pain - too many opportunities for it to get lost, or something. But I can get you one. Something small and thin.

[Big diamonds don't really seem like Root's style, at least not on a day-to-day basis.]

[ This is real. This isn't a dream. This is really happening. She is not dead. Shaw is not being held captive. They are here together, and they are now engaged. aaaaaaa

Root holds out her hand, booping Shaw's nose on the way. ]

Practical and romantic. You sure know how to make me weak in the knees.

Ow.

[Is all Shaw says to that, though there's absolutely no way that that boop hurt at all. But she leans forward before she turns on the gun, pressing a kiss to Root's cheek.]

Hold still.

[ She'll kiss it better later. For now, Root keeps her hand still under the needle. They've earned this with blood, sweat, and tears-- literally-- so the sharp, stabbing pain of getting inked feels like nothing, and means everything. ]

I can get you a ring too. And tattoo one on you, of course.

I'd like that.

[Shaw isn't a professional tattoo artist by any stretch of the imagination, but she's been practicing a lot; she's much better at intricate designs than she was six months ago. The ring she starts tattooing on Root's finger is thin, just like the still-hypothetical metal ring will be, with lines figure-eighting their way around her finger.]

Infinity.

[ It's personal and quite literally involves blood. That means so much, given their history. Choosing how to bleed, to show they're in this forever... ]

I love it.

You like it enough for me to do it all the way around?

[ Root nods and lays her head on Shaw's chest. ]

[Still holding the tattoo gun in one hand, Shaw pauses to just... look down at her. Carefully, she brushes the fingers of her free hand across Root's forehead, pushing a lock of hair aside.]

Root.

[ Root could fall asleep like this. She has, before. ]

Hm?

[ Her free hand gently strokes Shaw's side, around the edges of the freshly bandaged tattoo. ]

I'm here.

I know.

[She closes her eyes for a moment, exhales... and then opens her eyes, lowering the tattoo gun to Root's skin once again.]

[ Lying like this, with her right ear on Shaw's chest, Root feels Shaw's heartbeat, comforting like an embrace. ]

Idar.

Yeah.

[You get it, Root. Her hand perfectly steady, she continues the tattoo, not speaking or stopping again until the circle around Root's ring finger is complete.]

[ Despite the redness and stinging ache of this being a fresh wound, Root admires it like it's gold and diamonds. ]

You really... [ a breathy laugh, nervous and excited and a little disbelieving ] --you know I never expected this. I'm happy just to be with you. This is...

[ She never expected she'd ever fall in love, let alone get married-- she's got no idea what to say right now. ]

I might suck at it.

[Shaw says, gently taking the hand back so that she can start cleaning and wrapping it. She figures Root knows what to expect from her by now - it's the only reason she'd gone ahead with asking in the first place - but still, a warning seems polite.]

You won't. And even if you do, I don't care. You're stuck with me, sweetie.

Kind of the point.

[Her lips quirk up a little.]

I just want to make sure you know that you're stuck with me, too.

I was hoping as much. [ She lifts her head just enough to kiss Shaw's neck. ] Wouldn't want it any other way.

IC contact for lastvoyages

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