ɢᴀʟᴇ (traps) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-02-25 08:22:00 |
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There had already been a number of firsts for Gale since settling in Orange County for the second time - his first attempt at civilian jobs since he was a teenager, working in a warehouse back in West Virginia to supplement income after his father died, his first attempt at co-habitation, first love, first nasty dream bleed-through that affected everyone. First time visiting a porn studio? That too. The horror with Panem and the Hunger Games popping out of where he’d firmly stashed the stench of oppression back behind the walls of his psyche had been stressful. But it passed, a storm always did, and he was ready to do something that could be (in the scheme of things) considered normal. Not like he met Revy under normal circumstances, because monster-slaying wasn’t. But he just considered this a tour of her workplace - like, take a friend to work day? That was a thing, right? Maybe call it gleeful, amused, morbid curiousity too. He was sure she had hilarious stories to tell - and he’d never actually seen the process, from having porn actor footage to splicing it together to producing the final product you downloaded or bought from a shady DVD store. It had to be somewhat interesting. He followed the instructions she gave him and arrived at a building that looked like the warehouse he used to work in, just not next to a gas station you could probably either get hepatitis in or get dead in - there also weren’t pink lights on his former warehouse, but he guessed it was fitting. Pink was definitely a porno, bow-chicka-bow theme. But once he opened the doors, he wasn’t sure where to go. People stopped, turned to stare. Slightly awkward? “I’m just...looking for Revy?” He came in peace. Really. Not even armed today. At least the inside looked a lot better than the outside - it was neat, fairly clean (meaning all surfaces were wiped down for obvious reasons), and there were cameras and lighting and sets all around. Cheap ones, nothing extravagant. Set up was a backdrop for a church scene, and something that looked like a classroom. Cliche, naughty kinks. And there were women and men, scantily clothed, conversing like normal. Gale had come at a good time. Nothing was filming, no one was currently taking it up the ass, but when the tall bundle of military muscle came in some heads definitely turned, almost like sharks sensing blood in the water. Didn’t exactly help he had the physique of a dude who’d star in this sort of thing either, and there may have been a few eyebrow waggles in his direction. Up until they heard Revy’s name, of course. All females (and some men) visibly deflated and went back to what they were doing. Yes, she’d given those fuckers all a warning - he wasn’t fresh meat for them to snack on or whatever they wanted to do to him with their genitalia. “That’s right, fuckers, hands to yourselves,” she barked from her office, which was more like a closet converted into some sort of....quasi-habitable space. A small desk, a computer, wall shelves stacked with folders and a teeny fridge in the corner for beer. But the staff seemed to listen to her, maybe mumbled to themselves not-very-nice things, and she motioned Gale over. “Told you. Paws off.” Gale actually had no ambitions to be a porn star anytime soon - if the sex industry (the world’s oldest profession, even) worked for others, awesome for them, but he’d rather just not. “Nice meeting you,” he said to the group at large, Seam-grey eyes (that had never seen anything like this in good old District 12) shifted between the naughty pulpit and the naughty detention hall - or whatever they were. He was just getting all kinds of images - best to find who he came here for and stick with her. She seemed to rule with kind of an iron fist around this joint, and he didn’t blame the others for looking intimidated. “Hey Revy,” he grinned, stepping toward her fancy closet. “Good to see you without the monster interruptions this time.” And to actually be able to view her clearly - in the fog so thick you could slice into it like a steak, it was difficult to tell what was what. Despite them being little fucking shits Revy would be the first to argue that they were decent people - just with more unconventional ways of earning a paycheck, anyway. And who the fuck was she to judge? Their profession was much better than what hers had been; at least their stuff was actually legal, and no one had actually been killed by dick impalement around these parts. “Hey, big guy,” she greeted with a mirrored grin, gesturing for him to take a seat in front. The studio wasn’t anything too high-budgeted, but the mac computer was top-notch with the latest software. It was a matter of clicking and splicing through scenes and giving them some kind of visual coherence, and it honest to god got boring after a while. “Take a seat. You want a beer? Smokes?” Heineken was her beer of choice. Bottled in green glass, she took two out anyway - worst case scenario she’d just double-fist both of ‘em. Gale definitely wasn’t expecting a mac with editing programs and shit, that looked way fancy to him - then again, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He didn’t watch a ton of porn, wasn’t what you’d call an expert, but this studio was probably a few steps above ‘handheld camera’ status when it came to filming - especially if it had multiple sets and regular actors. Revy would school him though, that was why he was here. He settled in a chair, getting comfortable and taking a curious look around. “Beer’s good, I think beer would be perfect, actually,” he said, and took one of those familiar green bottles. “Not a bad setup you’ve got here. What’s on the editing chopping block for today?” He was going to guess something that had to do with...naughty schoolgirls. Oooh la la. Revy would have never imagined herself in a position like this - but if she figured one of the head military bosses of the Russian mafia could handle porn editing and be a total psychotic bitch when it came to the criminal underworld, then she could manage it with just having to go home and making sure she could at least afford to feed her pet rat. Steve sometimes came to work with her, usually nestled around her neck lazily. Despite the reputation rats were smart as shit, made awesome pets, but had a habit of making about every other woman under this place piss her monster truck thong. Gale would be her buddy for the day, then. He seemed pretty laid back, the kind of ‘go with the flow’ type that she seemed to get along with well. “There’s a couple I need to work on,” she explained with a roll of her eyes and a sigh, popping the cap off the bottle. “Naughty school girls.” Typical, but reliable. “Pool boy. MILF. And nuns. Pick your poison, Hawthorne.” Hey, she’d be nice enough to let him choose what he wanted to burn his eyeballs with. The lines were cheesy, the storylines absurdly cliche but they sold. Who watched porn for the character development and plot flow anyway? Nuns? Gale wasn’t religious but he felt almost skeezy watching a porno that had to do with Catholic school girls and nuns and priests and holy relics and just - weird, no. He’d pass on that one, since nuns just made him think of Leli being raised by one. MILF also seemed weird, too weird for the likes of him. Maybe he was kind of vanilla when it came to his porn choices but that was alright with him. Executive decision made. “Pool boy sounds good,” he laughed a little, tossing back a swig of beer after the cap plinked off. “That also sounds kinda typical for porn. Is it like, rich bored housewife has an affair with ‘the help’? Then the husband catches them and joins in?” Well, that last part may be a stretch for porn - could be too plotty. Might just be ‘rich bored housewife fucks pool boy, the end.’ It was so awe-inspiring and tearjerking. Ahhh, the pool boy thing. A classic. It was also some kind of plotline common in soap operas, especially those Spanish ones that seemed to air on networks like Telemundo or whatever (sometimes she’d get bored and drunk, don’t fucking judge). “The only pool boy threesome we’ve got is when the maid joins in,” Revy snickered, tongue in cheek. “This one’s got the ploy of housewife needing to be rubbed down in gross oily lotion, you know how that whole thing goes.” It’d been awhile since she had anything too ludicrous cross her desk. No fury midget porn as of recent. For fuckin’ shame. “How the fuck did you deal with the whole bleeding sky and monkey thing, by the way?” That was a bullet she mostly managed to dodge. Most of her time was spent with Midna trying to find a way to haul Henry’s in distress ass out of danger, and finding the best deal on wholesale rubber dicks - which was harder than it looked, actually. Oh, right, the maid. Gale looked impressed - well, amused, mostly that. He was actually sort of sadly right when he told Revy that coming to observe her at work would be the most normal thing he’d done in awhile. And it was true, because he actually felt sort of relaxed - maybe it was because she likely had multiple guns on her and would shoot anything, point blank, that broke into the closet editing space. “That shit was courtesy of Panem seeping through into this world - I’m beginning to think that whatever separates our world from every other dreamworld is wearing away, it’s like our own fucked up ozone layer that is being eaten,” he sighed, drumming fingertips on the desk. It would explain why so much kept happening, because there were a lot of other realities hanging over their heads. “But it was...okay. I mean, I kept it together. Besides when I fought mutt monkeys and that got messy. What about you? Sorry in advance if my dream shit fucked up your life.” Both brows skyrocketed. Well, fuck. She knew people were experiencing some screwed up shit but she didn’t think it’d be related to the dude that was conveniently seated across from her, either. Talk about a crazy goddamn coincidence. Revy thought back to their conversation online - his ‘battle royale’ type dreams, where the rich and the privileged got to toss a group of poor youngsters into a circle and made them fight to the death, all while manipulating their environment. Made what happened make a lot more sense, come to think of it. “Could be the more people that dream, the more shit’s going to keep bleeding over,” she expressed, stroking her fingers quickly against the keyboard to access a couple things on the screen. “But I actually didn’t run into anything. I got caught up with some debt collectors that kidnapped a friend.” It sounded a little callous, which wasn’t her intention, but the way Revy saw it was this: it was her own shit, Henry lived, it was taken care of, she knew she was a bad egg and was (mostly) trying to fix the rotten mess she was. It’d come along, slowly. “Could be.” Gale wouldn’t dispute that - because something was happening; it all really wasn’t what he’d consider ‘par the course.’ In fact, he wondered if any of those science people were looking into it, or if they were just as wrapped up in their own problems and trauma as everyone else who decided settling here was a ‘good’ idea. “Because it’s not like it’s slowing down. Not my area though, all that....theoretical, physics, multiverse stuff. I just try to keep people calm when shit does hit the fan.” Another swig of his beer went down the hatch as he sort of slumped in the chair - about as relaxed as he’d allow himself to get. Usually he was just so tense. “Debt collectors?” Now it was his turn to brow raise, mostly out of curiosity - not like he was judging. He knew how hard it was to break out of a lifestyle you were accustomed to for so long; if he didn’t have Leliana, if they didn’t have each other, he wasn’t so sure he’d even be here to discuss it. “It turned out okay, I’m guessing? Kidnappers got their due?” Yeah, seriously - no judgment here, from the guy who had to fake his death for a month. “You’re better than most people, if you’re out there making sure people don’t get themselves fucking killed,” she told him, taking a tentative sip of her Heineken. It wasn’t her field either, trying to dissect the reason why this place worked the way it did - she didn’t even have a GED, for christ’s sake. Seemed either scientific or magic-y, and all she dreamt of monsters in the form of regular humans. Outlaws and blood, merciless business that didn’t even make an exception for children. It got a little taxing after a while. Drinking usually had her crave a cigarette, and she fished into her pocket for the box and lighter. You weren’t supposed to actually smoke in here but they didn’t give her much shit about it. “I owed people money from forever ago, I guess, and they waited until I was out of prison to collect.” Revy shrugged. They were dedicated, she’d give them that. “Got a friend who can open up portals and impale people with her fucking hair, so we got shit handled. No one important died.” Maybe murder wasn’t the best way to try and turn a new leaf, but they wouldn’t stop until they got theirs and she wasn’t about to fork over money she didn’t even have anyway. Her solution was one she liked a fuckton better. “...you’re okay if I smoke in here??” It was odd for her to ever ask, and she had been about to ignite the end of the cancer stick before realizing it could be a little...uhhh, rude? Or something. “I mean, fuck if I know if you have asthma or whatever, I don’t want you to have a breathing episode on my desk.” There had been a lot of weird shit Gale faced lately (like being healed by drinking vampire blood? Can we just not?) though he had to admit that ‘death by hair impalement’ was pretty much at the top of the list. “You know, I’m not sure I want to picture how hair can run someone through, but I kind of am anyway,” he laughed, shaking his head. At least as a connoisseur of weapons he could appreciate the more creative ones. “But I’m glad it worked out for you and your friend. And no, go ahead - “ He tipped the edge of his bottle vaguely in Revy’s direction, in acknowledgment, “I’m in the Army, we pretty much get cigarettes as soon as we enlist.” Personally, he didn’t smoke, but many soldiers did. There sometimes wasn’t a lot to do out in the field besides waiting to be told what to do - so the time was killed by lighting up. And when soldiers ran out of cigarettes? It got ugly. Oh, phew. Revy leaned back and lit it, taking a couple of deep puffs to make sure the embers took root. Tobacco and gunpowder, her personal perfume. How attractive. “It was pretty gnarly,” she grinned, tapping the first bits of ash into a nearby tray. “She’s some princess of twilight, killer hair comes with the territory. I’m fucking jealous.” It was an impressive sight to see, and she wouldn’t deny wanting to bring Midna around specifically just to see her go apeshit with her magic - maybe next time she’d get the chance to literally ride her into battle while in her shadow beast form, bullets firing in the air. It’d make for an awesome movie poster, it really would. But the army? Hm. “You’re military? That explains an assload. It didn’t look like you were an amateur when we met.” Part of her thought she remembered him stumbling, like he was almost hesitant about facing that monster thing they fought against - Henry explaining how those things were basically fears and guilt and all sorts of negative emotional baggage personified helped her put a couple puzzle pieces together. “That piece of shit we saw; that got personal for you, didn’t it?” “It...yeah,” Gale admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt his muscles tense a little at the mention of the monster they’d faced, what was clearly his monster, but he shook it off. That was over and done with, he didn’t have to be weighed down by it anymore. Especially because he’d faced the fear. And maybe talking about it would help a little too. He needed to do more of that, he realized - so he steeled himself, gravestone eyes tightening just a little. “It looked like something from the Capitol’s labs - they were fond of mish moshing animal breeds together to make weapons of war. Like the monkey mutts that infested the place for a bit. But it just brought me back to the battlefield. Kinda made me realize that I haven’t really dealt with all that like I should have. It was...weird. I don’t know how it worked, exactly.” Weird, and terrifying. Even if it ended up being kind of a kick in the ass, to up the ante on taking better care of himself, for the sake of mental health. He didn’t want to become one of those statistics. Revy wasn’t exactly a stranger to trauma, and she had sensed his hesitance when it came to talking - but also understood it more than she cared to admit. To discuss even a little bit something that fucked you up right in the core, it wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Wasn’t something really anyone wanted to do. It made sense, though. Gale being a soldier, dreaming about some twisted battle royale world. That wouldn’t help anyone in the head. “Weirdest thing about that fog thing was that those monsters were supposed to help people deal with their emotional dirty laundry,” she grumbled, eyebrows knitted together in the center. In a way it sort of helped Henry? He was always a weird one but the experience had made him a little more...fearless, especially in the face of heartburn tacos and guns. “Some kind of fucked up psychological therapy, I don’t know. Maybe sitting on a lounge chair spilling your guts and telling someone with a degree what you think those inkblots look like wouldn’t have the same effect.” Literally, that entire horseshit made you face what could be your worst nightmare - and gave you the chance to shoot it, right between the eyes. She was almost a little jealous. It was true, and Gale wasn’t really one for sitting on a couch and interpreting inkblots. The point of therapy was that you did spill your guts to someone unbiased, who could just listen without judging - and that part was helpful, to an extent. But directly facing your fears? Yeah, there was something about that. It was probably the best kick in the ass anyone could ask for. Even if they didn’t know they wanted or needed it at the time. “Actually, it did kind of work,” he agreed, sort of picking at the label on his beer bottle, if only for something to do with his hands. “Helped me come to terms with things even if it was really...in your face for a minute there. But that’s the OC, I guess. Fucking you up psychologically for your own good.” That made him laugh - damn, maybe they all really were nuts for living here. There was a slow brow raise once she exhaled a cloud of smoke - away from him, that is, she wasn’t a total prick. But fuck, when you put it that way? “You know the saying,” she began, those golden-brown eyes flickering from the computer screen (the video that needed to be worked on was being loaded onto the software, give it a minute). “What doesn’t kill you, blahblahblah. I’m seeing a version of myself I don’t ever want to turn into. If it weren’t for this place giving me a window to a very possible ‘what if’ scenario, who the hell knows.” It provided a window of watching yourself in another situation, all while also seeing it unfold through the same eyes - and experience all the screwed up feelings and complications like you were there. Revy was a self-loathing murderous psycho on the other side of whatever this layer of reality was, it was pretty fucking extreme. And she was miserable to boot, a festering bundle of emotional wounds that never healed no matter how many bullets she shot from her guns. A psychologist would have a field day with that hateful version of herself, but she at least tried to keep it to a more toned the hell down here, christ. And, well. Friends or something. They helped. “Our porn date turned really fucking philosophical,” was the next thing she pointed out, the crack of a grin crooked. “Usually these things happen when I’m shitfaced and the only other person who’s listening is my pet rat.” Did Gale see a version of himself that he also didn’t want to turn into? Oh, definitely. It wasn’t as severe as what Revy saw, but after the dust from the wat settled the Gale in Panem had ended up alone. He’d gone over the top to ensure it wouldn’t happen here - but it was kind of like self-fulfilling prophecy, because for a minute, everything just kind of blew up (rolled downhill?) and it almost backfired. But those lessons, they were there - a smack in the face, letting him see just how well things turned out if he gave into all that fire, that anger, and let it drive his decisions. Meaning, not very well at all. “Looking at it is a cautionary ‘what if’ scenario isn’t a bad way to do it,” he said. “I have things here too, that I never got to have in Panem. So I won’t screw that up.” Like love, someone knowing his faults and yet still choosing him - not much compared to how amazing that was. “But yeah, this did turn kinda philosophical.” He didn’t mind, however. “I’m happy to listen whenever, Revy. Promises of porn don’t even have to be involved. But since I’m here - “ Now he was an eager pupil, so school him, Yoda, “...show me what you’ve got, oh wise editing one.” Alright, Revy had to laugh there a bit, smothering the remaining bit of cigarette. It met its demise with a soft hiss, and then she twisted the screen so he could see the glory of cliche housewife porn. “Let’s go with the editing porn for now, before we segue into another philosophical conversation.” A couple strong drinks later, she probably wouldn’t mind doing the whole talking bit more - but baby steps. Porn first, therapeutic discussions about their fucked up dual existenences later. |