#and potentially going to jail for killing my coworker. this is a joke I would never. but of all weekends I caNNOT deal with her screwing up

[shatterthefragments]

FUCK ME

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

Abrasive

Request: Hey, I just wanted to say I'm a big fan of your work and I was wondering if you can write another spock x reader imagine where spock and reader hate each other but that's because they don't know how to express their feelings for each other and Jim locks them into the same room?Thank you😊 - @mateapejic17mp

A/N: Sorry this one took so long. I was trying figure out how to make it different than the last one.

“I’m a grown adult, Jim. I don’t have to be friends with anyone I don’t want to be,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Isn’t that the exact opposite of your job description?” he asked as he sorted through the pile of PADDs on his desk.

“I’m a diplomate, not a pleasure planet entertainer,” you snapped.

“No need to get snippy. I just think the six months you have to spend with us would go smoother if you got along with my first officer.”

You sucked in a deep breath and when you let it out a small, forced smiled pulled at your lips.

“Fine,” you said, “I’ll play nice.”

“You’re not going to though, are you?”

“No.”

Jim sighed and rubbed his face roughly with his hands.

You raised your shoulders. “Sorry.” Dropping your eyeline to your hands and starting to pick at your nails, you continued, “He just really grates my cheese.”

“Does he?” You could hear the laugh he was holding back.

“Like cheddar.” You stood up, preparing to leave. “And I refuse to - on principle - get along with him.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said as you walked out.

-

With three PADDs, two empty coffee cups, and one full one set out in front for you, you dove deeper into your work. A coworker’s voice came in an endless stream from one of the PADDs. You nodded along as she spoke, your figures working tirelessly on the other two screens.

“I was not aware you were in here,” Spock stated from the doorway.

“Jim said I could work in here,” you told him without looking up.

“I’ll come back later.” You heard him turn to go back through the door but instead of the usual swoosh sounding from it, an angry beep went off.

Now you looked up.

“What was that?”

“It appears the door has been locked,” he said.

“So unlock it,” you said returning to your work.

“I can’t.” You looked back up at him, prompting him to explain, “It has been locked using a code I do not have the clearance to.”

“Mary, I’m going to have to call you back,” you said to your coworker before ending the subspace transmission being displayed on your screen.

“I’ll contact the captain, explain that a mistake has been made,” Spock announced as he reached for the communicator.

“There was no mistake,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “We’ve been tricked.”

Spock’s eyes moved back and forth between you and the locked door trying to put it together.

“Jim,” he started slowly, “did this in an effort to get us to get along.”

“Well, get the man a prize,” you snarked.

“Perhaps Jim would not have found this necessary if it were not for your aggressive personality.” He turned back to the door, thinking up a way to get out. “Then we could both get back to work.”

The corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. “And he bites back.”

Spock had no visible reaction to your comment.

“Might as well sit down and get comfortable; we’re going to be here for a while.” You tapped on one of your screens.

“You’re not going to try to appease the captain?” he asked.

“No, because while Jim seems to have confused our lives for an after school special where everyone can be friends, I’m grounded in reality enough to know that some people just aren’t meant for that.”

“You are suggesting that we are a pair of those people.” It wasn’t a question.

“You disagree?” you asked.

“Your stubborn and near immediate decision to dislike me has not left much room for me to disagree.”

You eyed him for a moment, before deciding to drop the conversation altogether. There was no point to it. You were a busy person and you didn’t have the time for any part of this situation.

It was hard to be productive while you were fighting to ignore Spock’s presence, commanding yet respectful, but you were determined to work through it. That was until the error notification showed up on your screen.

Letting out a load groan of frustration, you repeatedly hit the refresh button, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything.

“What are you doing?” Spock asked critically.

A message popped up on your PADD.

Jim T. Kirk:

Talk to him.

“Your dear captain cut off my connection to the server.” You tossed your PADD back on the table and added from between your teeth, “He’s insisting we talk.”

Raising an eyebrow, Spock waited in silence to see where you chose to go from there, his brown eyes - that you hated - studying you.

With a heavy sigh you made your decision, “I suppose we have no choice.”

“Shall we start with your distaste for me?” he asked crossing his arms. The sharp personality that you decided he had from the first look was in stark contrast with his soft features, which, just for the record, you also hated.

“I thought we’d dip our toes in, but okay, sure, let’s dive right into the deep end.” You straightened up in your chair. “You’re very abrasive.”

“I don’t see how that could be a valid reason given that you, yourself are quite abrasive.”

You narrowed your eyes, but found you couldn’t argue.

“You’re cold,” you offered as another reason.

“I do not believe my body temperature varies greatly from that of a human.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, closed-off. Indifferent. Unfeeling.”

“Now you are just demonstrating your ignorance of Vulcan culture.”

“Am I?” You crossed your arms, mirroring his posture.

“Vulcans are far from unfeeling.”

“Is this the part where you explain to me how ancient Vulcans were out of control because of their emotions and Surak saved the whole species with meditation? Because I’m already bored.”

He made a face that didn’t quite line up with any human expression.

“I’m sorry, that came off far more xenophobic than I intended.” You uncrossed your arms. “I understand that both your culture and biology play a role in how you display emotions and I’m sure it is just a matter of getting used to you, but honestly I’ve met plenty of Vulcans - and goldfish for that matter - that were better conversationalists than you.”

“You’re very up front with your opinions.”

You scoffed. “Because you’re so good at keeping yours to yourself?”

It was at this point that you were beginning to fully understand Jim’s reasoning behind locking the two of you in there. The realization of how fundamentally similar you and Spock were angered you more than anything Spock had ever actually said to you.

“I am not nearly as aggressive when presenting them,” Spock said.

“I prefer passionate.”

“You choose some odd things to be passionate about.”

“You don’t choose passion. It finds you,” you told him. “And it found me everywhere. It’s what makes me so good at my job.” You bit your lip and admitted in a quieter tone, “And really bad at it.”

“I don’t see how you can be both good and really bad at something.”

“Mmm. It is a gift,” you mused. “This trick is to be so amped up about things that you get others amped up and make them agree with you but then start fights when people don’t agree with you. Because you’re amped up.”

“I see,” Spock said simply.

With an absent minded hum, you reach for one of your screens, but your hand stopped halfway through its journey, when he spoke up again.

“Have you considered not fighting?”

You let out a breathy chuckle. “I have actually.”

“It was unsuccessful?” he asked in earnest.

“Doing my job without arguing would be like you doing yours without… I dunno, a microscope.”

“Fascinating.”

“Ya know, you have a great untapped potential as a debater,” you said as you grabbed a PADD that had pinged.

Jim T. Kirk:

See, you’re getting along. I was totally right to do this.

You quickly typed out a response.

(Y/N):

I’m punching you in the knee cap when I get out of here.

Jim T. Kirk:

And you’ll be totally justified.

“Is that Jim?” Spock asked.

“Why are we friends with him?” you asked instead of answering his question.

“I believe he conned us into it,” he said evenly.

You barked out a loud laugh. One of your hands flew up to cover your mouth as you stared at the man in surprise. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. You lowered your hand an inch or two.

“Was that a joke?”

“It was merely a statement. Any humor you found in it was unintentional,” he told you.

“I’m sure,” you chuckled.

“Vulcans do not joke.”

“Maybe not. But you’re half human and you’re,” you pointed a finger at him, “funny.”

Your PADD pinged again.

Jim T. Kirk:

Tell him you like his butt.

“What sort of repercussions would I face if I kill someone while aboard this ship?” you asked, still glaring at Jim’s message.

“You would be placed in the brig until we reach the nearest starbase where you would be handed of to Federation authorities. From there you would be brought back to Earth where there would be a trial, presumably resulting in jail time,” Spock explained.

“So just the regular repercussions then? Good to know.” You set the PADD back on the table without responding to his message. “Did he have a little talk to you about me before locking us in here?”

“Yes. He seemed to believe my displeasure with you was a thinly veiled disguise for my romantic feeling for you.”

“Did he?”

“At the time, I very strongly disagreed.”

At the time? You tried to keep your cool, picking up your coffee cup to hide the whirlwind of thoughts that just started up in your mind.

“We had many similar conversations. Some of which shouldn’t be discussed in polite company.” You took a sip of your coffee that had long since grown cold.

“And did you agree with him?”

“I think it’s been well established that I like to argue.”

[buzzycohen]

I just finished Blackkklansman and I should just dive right in with a few things

Spoilers ahead obvi

1) I always get uncomfortable when white men are given scripts that prompt them to say horribly racist things. Like, Quentin Tarantino with all of his characters saying the n word? I always feel uncomfortable. I don’t know why I didn’t think that would be much of an issue in this movie. But by the time Adam Driver’s character was unprompted and started dropping the n word down and the real Ron was dropping sp**s and k*ke and other derogatory terms down when he was talking to the initial KKK guy... that really bothered me. I think it’s good that it bothers me, of course. I understand it’s a period piece and especially a period piece that deals with race and ESPECIALLY one that deals with the KKK... so why didn’t it occur to me that this was going to happen? I guess I figured that if I were a black person watching this, it would be a hard movie to watch. It was hard for me, a white woman, to watch. I think that’s good that it was hard to watch because white people have such a horrifying history and it’s good to not pretend that there is evil out there. But I guess my thing is- do these kind of scripts enable some people to really unleash racist thinking? I think by now, we know that white people are inherently racist. I think the movie seemed too Buddy Buddy to me and- other than what, one guy?- there was no hesitance that the real Ron faced when it came to fitting in with the police. So I dunno, you started off with a great scene at a Black Student Union where the main character Ron hears from a former Black Panther about a whole system of oppression and then it focuses strictly on racist cops. And you have this whole thing about these cops shooting down black folks and there’s a great part that ties in the Vietnam War with this as well...

“Now We are being shot down like Dogs in the streets by White Racist Police. We can no longer accept this Oppression without retribution. The War in Vietnam is Illegal and Immoral. I'd rather see a Brother Kill a Cop than Kill a Vietnamese. At least he's got a reason for Killing The Cop. When you Kill a Vietnamese you're a Hero and you don't even know why you Killed him. At least if you Kill a Cop you're doing it for a reason.”

And it was like- that’s a reasonable stance. The whole speech seemed like it could set up an arch for the character to challenge the men he worked for. I thought that’s where the movie was going and I figured the more he dived in with the KKK, the more he could see the racism that his coworkers displayed? But then, other than that One Guy, they ended up not doing anything? Like, they were all supportive and accepted this racism as a joke like it didn’t affect them? There was even a point where Ron asks Adam Driver’s character why he wasn’t affected negatively by the racism that the KKK showed and he kind of swept it off with a sentence or two about how he hadn’t realized he was passing off as a Christian WASP guy until he got into the KKK and had to deny his Jewish faith. But that’s IT. There was no hesitance in his motivation for doing this job and he said awful things as a part of his job but also was it REALLY necessary? Wouldn’t it have said more if these guys were uncomfortable with what the KKK was doing instead of turning it into a sort of game? And that’s the motivation behind their work?

But watching the KKK actors so effortlessly go about saying these things... I get that it’s acting. I get that. But I personally don’t think I would ever take a role where I would play such a character because I would feel horrible about it? It’s just such a wonder how white men and women have gone on this long, playing these roles and like... is it ever going to stop? Is there ever going to be a time where someone finally puts their foot down and says “I am tired of seeing white guys say the n word”. Like oh my fucking god, it’s concerning. The script was written by 2 black guys sure... but higher up on the bill it was written by 2 white guys. So half and half- but the white guys were higher up? And it just makes me feel like these characters kind of release catharsis for the actors where it’s like “in this context we can be as racist as we want and we can get really into character like an actor should and that will show everyone that we really are fantastic actors because we did this job that not everyone wants to do” (that’s what I felt when I attempted to watch Three Billboards and I’m sure there are countless other movies where white guys get acclaim for playing racists) Is it some sort of power high for the writers? Where they can write racist things that come from their head and then people can applaud their creativity when really it’s just... all that internalized or inherent racism that comes with being white? Basically I don’t understand why that language or behavior is necessary and it’s concerning when you look at the producers and... 4/6 are white. Is this kind of movie one that white people make to feel good about themselves? Like, “hey, at least we aren’t like THESE people”. I get that it was adapted from the book that the real Ron Stallworth wrote but still... you really do have to wonder about the power high that white guys must get.

2) the main villain in this is obviously the white woman. I’m bad with my words but white women are the reason Trump is in office and white women aiding and abetting white men with these racist ideaologies is scary and very very real. The parallels I saw throughout this with the “America First!” and the “Let’s make America great again!” were an obvious dig at the trump election. But even MORE SO, it was the white women that really had the power to destroy in this movie. And that’s a fucking parallel y’all!!!!!! Connie was fucking evil. Connie was brainless and evil and you can’t even make an argument that she didn’t know better- that excuses horrifying deeds TO THIS DAY that white women have had a hand in. It’s terrifying, I know. But that’s why white feminism is so gross. That’s why white women need to do better because their influence and support could literally help flip a racist society or election or movement or WHATEVER. Because they have NUMBERS. But their numbers do the wrong fucking thing all the time and it’s scary!!!! They’re like the senior citizens in a local election- you need them but they might not be for you!! And that’s fucking scary as hell! And the character of Connie made me sick to my stomach and it’s absolutely insane that a woman like her, who has a terribly racist and somewhat abusive husband, can be equally as racist and STILL SUPPORT HER HUSBAND! That’s what Trump voters did! They supported their husbands! There’s no pretending that these women don’t make their own decisions though! Because they choose to be ignorant or they choose to support their husbands or they choose to vote for a certain someone or they choose to be fucking racist. You can’t ignore their history and then say that they didn’t decide to be racist because of a husband or something. Connie decided that she’d support her husband and kill a house full of black people. It’s fucking scary and you can’t even blame it on the husband because SHE CHOSE THAT! She chose to do it and that’s fucking scary and that’s EXACTLY how racist white women are! I think the movie was spot on with the white woman part of this.

These are my two main things and I dunno... I will have to listen to the Black Men Can’t Jump in Hollywood podcast about this one but at this moment, I don’t think I was a huge fan because I think the potential for it was too good and I was a bit disappointed.

Obviously the white writers, white producers, and a lot of white actors is a bit concerning with a movie involving race. I thought it was going to be a little more thoughtful and more of an inflection about the Black Power movement and the relationship between races (especially because police brutality was a theme throughout the ENTIRE MOVIE? And the main character is the only black cop in his city. AND he is the one to infiltrate the KKK). It seemed pretty digestible for white people to watch, which I was surprised with. Once you had to get over the fact that the n word was going to be said 100 times and you get past how real the issues with racist white women are... it’s like everything that happens with race conflict is put aside? You don’t exactly know why they infiltrate the KKK and you get one like about two members being in NORAD... a fact I wouldn’t have remembered if I hadn’t read the Wikipedia page on the real Ron Stallworth and read about the NORAD guys having access to NUCLEAR BOMB CODES!!!!!! (Which would have been good to include in the movie because that’s like... a SERIOUS thing obviously) The racist guys are bad but they seem like more of a butt of a joke than an actual threat (that is until there’s a story about a lynching and postcards and then you have your bomb). But even then, when everything is over, there’s just one phone call that is made for closure and you’ve got a bunch of cops sitting around a phone laughing at the real Ron making fun of David Duke?? All that shit happened and then they talk about how horrible it is that the white woman is facing jail time for her bombing that car and then the fact that that killed her husband and these cops are HOWLING laughing about their trickery. I didn’t think this was supposed to be a comedy and... I was not laughing.

Overall, I wouldn’t say it’s my movie to critique when it comes to how it portrays race and black people. A lot of people seem to love it and I’m happy about that!! I’m glad so many people loved it and so many people resonates with it! But I think my main issues came with the white parts in this movie so I am going to say it’s alright for me to be a critic.

* This movie is NOT a thirst bank for Adam Driver?? If anything people should be talking about John David Washington??? This movie isn’t about Adam Driver, it’s annoying that that is what this film is reduced to.

** It was definitely influenced by blaxploitation and I think it kind of poked fun at itself for that but I didn’t think blaxploitation was a very good thing? I’d honestly love to learn more about that. That’s not a criticism, I am just wondering about that!

[sku1lrose-blog]

First kill

It was in the aftermath of what had happened with my brother. I had to go through a lot of therapy, a lot of suppressed memories. I didn't think I needed that mandatory therapy, I still think the same. I think it was all just a time spent talking about things that are where they supposed to be, in the past. I had to take a lot of medication too. Annoying. I was fine, and still am. I don't need some pills to do my job, nor live my life. I am fine.

I came back to my outpost, and back on duty 6 months after killing my own brother in the abandoned hospital. I had a lot of paperwork to do, and, quite honestly, a lot of time to do so. After all, I lived in the most boring town of the most boring state in the world.

It was all easy money. No work, but get paid, really nice.

Anyway, to get back to the story.

I was bored. But not like checking the fridge every five minutes bored. No. I was out of my skin bored. Nothing felt comfortable, nothing felt quite right. So I decided to change it.

That's when I found her.

A cute little red haired woman. Social study proffessor at our local community college.Almost as damaged as me. I ran a background check on her the same day I met her. Don't judge me, in my line of work, we are taught to doubt everyone.

Anyhow, it was like in the movies. We met by bumping onto each other on the street. I knocked some papers out of her hands. Must have been an exam or something like that, since she was carrying a lot of those.

Stress... That was all I saw in her eyes. It was like she was ashamed of looking me in the eyes. Either that, or she was afraid of me.

I mean I wouldn't blame her. Even my coworkers looked at me with a certain dose of fear. I guess that was because I shot and killed my own brother. My own flesh and blood. But that didn't change me.not one bit.

All I know is that I started writting again. I used to do that a lot when I was a child. All of my proffessors told me I had a gift for imagining, and writting things only I could see. But alas, it was not in my plan. To live of of my imagination. It's too unstable of a job for theese times. And I liked catching idiots in crime more. Seemed a lot more fun than it really is. I mean the worst was when some granny called me to report her senior neighbour for "killing" her dog. It would be all good, if that was my job, and if that same granny DID have a dog. Her dog died of old age five years prior to her calling me to investigate.

Anyway, that night I got back to writting, I didn't even realise I was writting. I was just sitting home, at my lap top (kind of the same as I am now) and I was doing my research on the proffessor I mentioned a little bit earlier. I was listening to Beethovens' Moonlinght sonata third movement, when my fingers started following the music on the keyboard. Funny enough, I don't even remember opening Word when I started typing.

When I finished, I was stunned by what my subconcience, along with my brain, produced. I never knew I could write something like that.

"It was at the corner of the main street, and 52nd. There was a nice warm breeze, with a really nice, and sweet smell in the air. The sun was shining, so I needded my sunglasses to see better. It was really nice, and pleasant to be outside in this conditions. I felt warmth surrounding me, and soft breeze going through my hair and beard. How long since I shaved last time? I don't even remember. Or maybe I do, but I just don't care. Something hit me!!! Panic! Wow! That smell is hers. Did she bump into me, or did I bump into her while being lost in translation of this fine fine pre-summer weather? I menaged to collect myself to muster a simple and quiet "sorry". Then she looked up, while we were both collecting some papers of fromthe pavement. Those eyes. Wow! I was simply stunned. Like someone had just hit me over the head with a montauin, on top of a plane on top of a tractor. I was cemented in place. That sorrow. Fear. Shiverring. So much potential for those eyes. I hope to see them lighten up next time I meet this mysterious woman."

Amazing what my subconcience caught, and remembered. I couldn't put it like that even if I tried my best to do so.

I did my "research", and I found her.

She was broken, almost as I was. Her ex, who she lived with abused her. Beatings on a daily basis, and sometimes even rape. And she tolerated his behavior. Idiot. He is not changing for anyne honey. Get that through to that smart brain of yours.

I waited for her outside her classroom the next day. As she walked through that door, I suddenly smelt that same beautiful candy flavored scent all around me.

"Hi. Can I help you with something?" were the first words she said, after which she froze for a second. I guess she remembered who I was.

"Actually, you can. I would like to talk to you, if that is okay with you." I said after a moment of hesitation.

"This way, please" she said as she lifted her right arm, showing me the way.

"Please, hae a seat. Would you like something to drink."

"Just a glass of water, if you don't mind, it's very hot outside." I lied. I was feeling hot, and I was sweating like a pig because of her.

"Okay, so please tell me, detective, what can I do for you?"

(I could think of a couple of things) "Well, this may sound a bit wierd, but I can't get you out of my head since yesterday, so I snooped around for a bit, and I came here with intention to just have a conversation with you. I hope that is okay with you miss."

"Wh... Why would you like to have a conversation with me? Did I do something?"

"No, no" I assured her "I am not here onofficial police bussiness today. I just wanted to get to know you. You intrigue me."

"Intrigue?"

"Yes! I could see fear of men in general in your eyes, not the usual kind of fear I am used to, after... Well, you know."

"Yes, I do. So what would you like to know?"

"Tell me everything."

And she did. Don't worry, thi isn't a play, so I will not write the entire conversation. Even if I wanted to, I don't remember like 70% of that.

Anyhow, we started dating. Me, a loner, who didn't like to be touched, and just sat in silence, or listened to classical music for hours at a time, and her, a social study proffessor, beaten and raped by her ex boyfriend.

We heard he was in jail for possessing, and using drugs, and a gun. I was so 'surprised' when I heard the news. Scum of the earth. Parasite. What do you think, who tipped him of?

To this day, he swears he was framed. I only partially agree with him. He was stupid enough to not notice what 'someone' left in his apartment.

Anyhow, her eyes were glowing that day. It was like looking into two big-ass hazelnut colored stars on top of a body sitting across me during dinner.

That night she went wild. We ended up in my house. It was like magic. She was out of control.

Like she knew what I had done, and rewarded me for my 'mision'. I felt her. Everywhere. That scent I felt, it wasn't perfume, my friends, no. Her skin was what gave that scent away. And now, that scent was smeared all over my body. So much sweat, those moans, right volume, right place. Right into my ear, as she bit that same ear. That drew out some unknown flame out of me. Even I didn't know I had that inside me.

I was like wild animal. I kept going faster, harder, deeper.

"Choke me" she whispered.

Her pulse. So strong. So disturbed. So unequal. Her blood flow. As I squeezed, I felt more and more things under my palm. I felt her breath wearing thin, her voice chords stretching, like she was trying to say something. But I couldn't hear anything lost in that sudden impact of power, passion, and bloodlust. I kept squeezing life out of her.

That fear in her eyes. That look as she realized she is not going home anytime soon. That look as she realized she said wrong words to the wrong person. That fear as she realized she was, indeed, going to die.

That somehow made me want more of it, and made me even wilder.

When I came to, she wasn't moving.

As I looked down, I realized that she wasn't even breathing.

Ode to death. That was playing in the background, on my gramophone, silently, inpatiently.

A fitting part, don't you think?

I have to make her disappear. So, i went into the woods, and lit a fire. I was very careful, and I waited for quite some time.

I didn't know that human flesh smells so bad when set on fire.

After the fire died out, I checked to be sure there was nothing left as evidence. After all, I am a homicide detective. It would be a very cruel joke if I had to chase, and try to catch myself.

After that, I called Rangers'department, and reported a smoke coming out from the forest.

As I sat down in a chair in my living room, I sipped some bourbon, and I was looking at the almost empty bottle, when I realized one little fact. Now, I am a killer. I am not terrified, nor am I sorry for what I did. I liked it, very much, for that matter. And I was sure of only to things.

One, I am not stopping anytime soon.

And two, that was my first kill.