#I could use the refresher though. I was explaining DA to my friend a while back bc she played Inquisition at my place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tanoraqui · 5 years ago

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[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[now all on AO3!]

Nie Huaisang wakes up from his overexertion-induced sleep after about 14 hours, and about 24 hours before his brother wakes up. He has this time to think

He doesn’t use it to think, because his brother is still unconscious, comatose from a severe qi deviation. Chief Physician Nie Fengji, Wen Qing, Wen Qing’s Uncle Six, and assorted Nie physicians do obscure medical things to him involving spiritual energy, needles, a dash of surgery, and actually more of the poison that nearly killed him, in what Nie Huaisang can only assume is some sort of physician-approved hair of the dog scheme, and Nie Huaisang participates by sitting quietly in the corner until even that is deemed too in-the-way and he’s banished first to the hallway and then, with physician authority, to his own bed

they do search, and find some of the yin-storing grass hidden in Wen Ning’s pillow. Nie Huaisang doesn’t go to bed; he goes down to the third guest room and takes A-Yuan and Granny out for a walk just long enough for a couple disciples to beat Wen Ning enough to look good later - split lip and bruises, etc. In case anyone comes checking the story he gave Jin Qixian

Wen Ning, he hears, bears it with aplomb. Just in case it’s the Wens who are lying, Nie Huaisang doesn’t really give a shit

But on the third day since he collapsed off Baxia into the main courtyard, Nie Mingjue wakes up. He’s groggy and weak, physically and spiritually, but he shoves himself into a sitting position with a glare, catches and holds Nie Huaisang reflexively when he flings himself at his brother with a relieved laugh. Someone pulls him back - “stop putting weight on him!” - but it’s enough. It’s enough.

Wen Qing has three-day bags under her eyes. She says quietly, “That he’s awake - it shouldn’t leave this room. Not until Nie-zhongzhi is more recovered, and has decided what he wishes to do.” She nods toward Nie Mingjue

“What the fuck happened?” he demands, and it’s the weakest snarl Nie Huaisang has ever heard. His brother is already sagging back against his pillows. “Jin Guangshan was actually polite before I left Lanling, but I don’t remember...”

“He poisoned you,” Nie Huaisang says bluntly, because he’s thinking again and that was the last straw he needed to be convinced of how this happened (he never really stopped thinking, deep beneath the anxious terror and anticipation.) “No, this stays here...or can he be moved to his own bedroom?” he asks the Chief Physician. “It’d be more comfortable, and easier to hide his state from any spies Jin Guangyao might have - I mean, I assume he has spies. I’d want to...”

[the mastermind]

A few days later, Nie Huaisang arrives at Lotus Pier and begs his friends to take him out on the town. Distract him with food and wine and cheer from the stresses of home, where his brother is still comatose and everyone is starting to expect him to be responsible instead

Jiang Cheng is busy with Sect Leader duties but Wei Wuxian takes him up on it immediately. There’s nowhere quite like Yunmeng’s piers for goofing around - somewhere around the fourth street theater show and second jug of wine between them, Nie Huaisang leans over and asks, “The next time there’s a cultivational conference at Carp Tower - would you be interested in making a ruckus?”

they’re walking down the street in a crowd. It’s very hard to be overheard on the street in a crowd

“Like tonight?” Wei Wuxian grins and he, too, looks like this night has been a welcome break

“Without me,” Nie Huaisang admits. “Just to have some fun - make a scene! Cause a fun distraction!”

A single jar of wine in Wei Wuxian means he’s still mostly sharp. “A distraction for what?”

“Oh, you know,” Nie Huaisang says airily, hides half his face behind a coy fan and says more quietly. “Helping some of those Wens dying in Jin Guangshan’s work camps.”

Wei Wuxian has never had much head for intrigue, but at least he whispers. “The same Wens who assa- who tried to assassinate your brother?”

“No, silly!” Nie Huaisang baps him with the fan, laughing, and hopes WWX sees in his eyes that he’s serious. “That’s a different thing. This is just to have some fun!”

Wei Wuxian meets his eyes, and his face splits back into a grin. It’s regained the sharp-toothed edge its been carrying since the end of the Sunshot Campaign. “Why not? I could use a little fun myself!”

The next cultivation conference at Carp Tower is in just three weeks, and Nie Huaisang spends them frantic. There’s so much to do, and he can’t let anyone know about any of it. There are plenty of empty houses, empty entire villages - the war was fought in Qinghe only second to Qishan, for Wen Ruohan’s determination to capture the impenetrable fortress clan

he wants to err on the side of making sure people will have shelter, especially with winter coming on, but he needs to err on the side of stealth or they’ll never pull this off -

but how are they (how is he) going to pull it off anyway, honestly; there’s only so many times he can storm in and demand things with a wild combination of pitiful tears and borrowed authority...he can’t exactly get another note for the actual Jin clan -

...though...

they don’t need that many extra roofs, at least, if there won’t be that many people (priority of the Dafan Wens, of course, to repay Wen Qing and because, honestly, they’re the largest group that survived the initial purges, being mostly non-combatants)

he tried and failed to put the distraction out of mind, because there’s really no way to know in advance what Wei Wuxian would do, much less how to handle it. whether it would create a day or a week or several more years of chaos...

and then there was the really difficult part: getting Nie Mingjue to stay the fuck in bed, or at least in his own suite of rooms. Nie Huaisang’s brother was the worst patient possible, which was unfair, because Nie Huaisang himself would’ve loved to have an excuse to lounge in his bedroom doing leisurely, sedentary activities for few weeks. Instead he was out running around organizing things - while letting as few people as possible know what he was organizing or even that he was doing it - and Nie Mingjue was being threatened every other day by Wen Qing and her needles

To make matters more exciting, 10 days out from the cultivation conference, a delegation arrived without from YunmengJiang - Jiang Wanyin himself, and riding with him, Jiang Yanli. Nie Huaisang met them in the courtyard; she stepped gracefully off her brother’s sword and gave him a hug that was, honestly, meltingly comforting and kind

“Nie Huaisang! I’ve been so sorry to hear about Mingjue-gongzi. I would have come sooner, but, you know, we’re only stealing this time from a trip to Lanling for more wedding planning.” She gestured to a pair of disciples who between them hauled a tureen the size of a small child. “I brought some of my best medicinal soup - I don’t know if it will possibly be right, but A-Xian told me how hard it’s been for you, and I just had to try to help.”

offer

“You’re too kind, Jiang-guniang.” He fluttered his fan anxiously. “I’m sure Da-ge would thank you if he could, but...” he blinked away tears. “I can’t even let you in to see him; the physicians even turned away his sworn brothers.”

skeptical outlining of situation

(Jin Guangyao was obviously right out, and the idea of involving earnest, idealistic Zewu-jun in any sort of conspiracy made Nie Huaisang think fondly of breaking out in hives)

“Of course,” Jiang Yanli said sympathetically. She took her brother’s arm back to lean on, and Nie Huaisang took his cue to bow and offer her refreshments and a set - maybe with a view? He knew all the best places. Jiang Yanli, genuinely frail enough to not be expected to do much more than look lovely, accepted

they had a very pleasant conversation about other things - poetry, who was and wasn’t being invited to the wedding, the latest fashions in Lanling (Nie Huaisang sighed wistfully)

eventually Jiang Yanli asked, between one sip of tea and the next, “This event you’re planning with A-Xian - could it be postponed? Say, six months?”

the wedding. Nie Huaisang’s breath caught briefly - now that would be a distraction in its own right, even without anything Wei Wuxian could pull

but he thought about the emaciated, flinching Wens in the Qiongqi Pass camp, and those back in Qishan who weren’t much better off, and shook his head. “Not for those to whom it would matter most.”

and, frankly, he couldn’t ask his brother to stay quiet so long, and he really would prefer than Lanling not know Nie Mingjue had truly survived until they were ready to strike back

Jiang Yanli hummed thoughtfully. “What about...two, two-and-a-half months?”

...there was nothing happening in two months, except the middle of winter. which would make roads more impassible, maybe to their advantage, but only if a couple different things went wrong...

but Jiang Yanli was smiling sweetly, like someone with a plan

“I think that would be wonderful,” he said, and sipped his tea back at her

Jiang Cheng punches him on the shoulder before they go and says he doesn’t seem like he’s doing completely terribly at everything, which is the Jiang Cheng equivalent of a supportive hug and 10-minute earnest pep talk. Nie Huaisang is genuinely warmed

Jiang Yanli, mentally cracking her knuckles as her brother flies her to Carp Tower: time to seduce my fiancee, the third hottest man in the kingdom, into putting a baby in me so we can speedrun our wedding prep - for a good cause! god I love my life

[the grifter]

unfortunately, two-and-a-half months is too long a delay to use the usual “ask for forgiveness, not permission” method, not least because Nie Huaisang has to explain to his brother why he wants him to keep pretending to be comatose, when even his physicians are starting to agree that he needs exercise more than rest

“No,” Nie Mingjue says flatly

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang pleads. “It’ll just be so much easier if everyone thinks I’m running around like a terrified rabbit!”

“Why do you insist on being useless at all times?” Nie Mingjue growled, a familiar old song. “If you just applied yourself - ”

“Because it’s easier!” Nie Huaisang cried (a newer tune). “Because I don’t want to be a great warrior, I just want to make pretty things and have friends and have fun - and when I do want something, it’s much easier to get it if no one thinks I’m worth anything - ”

“Of course you’re worth something,” Nie Mingjue snapped. “You’re the heir to QingheNie and you’re my brother!”

Nie Huaisang really did cry easily. He blinked away the tears.

“The Jins tried to kill you, da-ge,” he said quietly. “And they tried to make it look like a qi deviation.” (Like Father, went unsaid. Like my mother and your uncle and three of our cousins, one of whom was only thirteen.) “I want to make clear to them what we think of that.”

Nie Mingjue unclenched his hand from Baxia’s hilt, with whom Nie Fengji and Sixth Uncle had finally agreed to let him reunite. “Then we kill one of them back,” he said. “Not this underhanded, indirect...and with Wen-dogs...”

“If I could kill Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao in one stroke, right now, I’d do it. But that would start another war, and we could survive another war, but a lot of our people wouldn’t. Only about seven out of ten survived the last one.” He bit his lip. “And the Wens...not all of them were monsters, we’ve seen that, and the Jins tried to blame the ones we know are alright. This will show them that we can make up our own minds.”

Nie Mingjue was silent for a long moment, and Nie Huaisong resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot. His brother was never impressed with fidgeting.

“Fine,” Nie Mingjue said at last. “Do your scheme. But you’d better prove that you’re right, Huaisang.”

“I will, Nie-zhongzhi.” He stood at parade attention.

“And you won’t use it as excuse that you’re too busy to practice your saber.”

“Da-ge!” he whined instantly. “But I will be busy! We need to tar all the house roofs in Ning Village, and find about fifty spare horses, and weed out any spies in our household - oh, and do you have any letters from Jin Guangyao I can look at? And...”

News came that the wedding of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan had been moved up to two months rom now and Nie Huaisang whistles under his breath then flinches reflexively, before he realizes there’s no "Twin Prides” around to smack him for disrespecting their sister

But two months somehow passed even faster than that first week had. Homes to quietly repair and no few medical supplies to stock up on, winter snow-ready horses to find and discard with another trip to Yunmeng, social visits to carefully negotiate...

Gossip flowed, as always. Gossip said: Nie Mingjue has survived the dastardly attack on his life; he’s still half-dead or he’s twice the warrior he ever was or he personally executed every Wen in his dungeons. Gossip said: the witch Wen Qing had seduced him and stabbed him with a poisoned blade; the witch Wen Qing had fallen in love with him and saved him from a random qi deviation; the witch Wen Qing was actually the Yiling Patriarch in disguise and both of the above were true. Gossip generally agreed that Nie Huaisang was still wavering between disconsolate over his brother’s brush his death (and his own brush with Sect Leadership) and dragging anyone who would heed him out for drinks and entertainment

Jin Guangyao did have spies in the Unclean Realm, of course; he knew their value. His girl in the kitchen got fired over some mistake with a roast, but the guest cultivator and the chambermaid and assorted people in the nearest towns generally agreed: Nie Mingjue was back on his feet but still rebuilding his strength under the careful eye of his Chief Physician, and didn’t remember anything from the day of his qi deviation. Wen Qing was dead, as were all the other Wens - she and Wen Zhichen had preformed well in healing the damage she’d done in her attempt to poison the sect leader, under threat of their own deaths, but when Nie Mingjue woke up he'd ordered their deaths without even the dignity of public execution. Nie Huaisang was so wracked with guilt over bringing them into the house that he’d actually started practicing saber sometimes, and just a little heartbroken over the death of the child in particular

this last, Jin Guangyao found out himself, as well as confirmed most of the rest when he was allowed to visit his sworn brother and ended up letting Nie Huaisang sob on his shoulder for two straight hours. He had to have the robe steam-cleaned, but it was very informative

“Would you like us to kill the rest of the Wen-dogs?” he asked his sworn brother. “Or you can do it yourself, of course.”

Nie Mingjue snorted dismissively. “I killed the ones who were the biggest problem. Keep working your dogs to death as you like.”

The night before they were supposed to leave for the Jiang-Jin wedding, Nie Huaisang sat in his brother’s chambers (as he had taken to doing many evenings) and absolutely failed to focus on his paints.

“ - I’m sure I can handle the lieutenants left in charge, though really I haven’t talked to them as much so they’re more likely to be suspicious, especially if I didn’t get the calligraphy right - ”

“Huaisang - ”

“ - and the Wens themselves, I mean, this has to go quickly if it’s going to work at all - what if Wen Ning hasn’t gotten word around - we haven’t heard from him since yesterday, what if they found him, he could be- Wen Qing is going to kill me - ”

(the Nie sect wasn’t given to duplicity, but that didn’t mean their fortress of a sect building didn’t have a few spare secret rooms and passageways, in which to hide a handful of Wens for a couple months)

“A-sang - ”

“ - hell, what if the arrays don’t work and we all just die - but it’s the only way; horses wouldn’t be fast enough, especially with the heavy snows this year - ”

“Nie Huaisang!” Nie Mingjue barks in a parade-ground voice.

Nie Huaisang spins around mid-pace to stand at attention, one hand behind his back and the other on his saber hilt. A very few reflexes have been successfully trained into him

His brother scowls at him from the bed, where he sits in lotus position as the world’s grumpiest, most broad-shouldered guru. Nie Huaisang braces himself

“I’m proud of you,” says Nie Mingjue

“I- what?”

Nie Huaisang has spent the last two and a half months careful of every expression he made, but now he isn’t sure what to do at all.

“You’ve actually put effort into this. It’s needlessly elaborate and only just barely honorable, and it’s certainly not saberwork. But it’s...something.” He nods.

“...oh.”

his posture does relax in surprise. but then, the parade-attention was never going to last

“You will pull off this absurd scheme, and you will not be in any way injured in the process, because if you are, we will go to war with LanlingJin.”

“Yes, da-ge”

“Now shut the fuck up, or I’ll call Wen Qing in to put you to sleep, while I do this bullshit boring nightly meditation.”

Nie Huaisang ducks his head. “Yes, da-ge.”

oh, a smile. a smile is the expression he wants to make

The day of the wedding of Jin Zixuan of Langling and Jiang Yanli of Yunmeng dawns auspiciously bright and the ceremony lives up to every portent. Carp Tower is decorated with even more red than gold. The bride is radiant enough to make the sun weep for jealousy; the groom looks pretty good, too; and they only have eyes for one another. Both her brothers cry, Jiang Cheng stoically and Wei Wuxian loudly; Madame Jin looks even happier than the newlyweds; and Nie Huaisang makes sure he’s among the first to offer the happy couple congratulations, so he can equally quickly slip out and set off a teleportation talisman

He appears in the woods near the first town in the Qishan that the spare Wen cultivators and other prisoners of war are being stored in. A dozen Nie cultivators are waiting expectantly, led by Zhao Huandi

Nie Huaisang quickly strips himself of the outer layer of wedding-appropriate finery, leaving his ordinary day’s slightly-nicer-than-most-would-bother-with finery. He tucks the extra beautiful stuff carefully in a qiankun pouch and asks, “Everyone ready?”

nods and salutes and murmurs of agreement

He briefly channels a completely different work of fiction: “Let’s go steal a small populace.”

It’s actually...very easy. “Isn’t the young lord’s wedding today?” asks the man left in charge while Jin Qixian, being a cousin of the family, is at that wedding. “Why aren’t you at that?”

“I didn’t practice my saber for a week and my brother got sooo angry.” Nie Huaisang pouts. “He forbade me from the party of the year, and gave me a job to do instead! It’s not fair - I’d be happy to do a favor for san-ge any other day!”

The lieutenant eyes the orders he’s been handed, in Jin Guangyao’s handwriting with Jin Guangyao’s signature. “Well, it does all seem to be in order.” He waves to the nearest guard. “Hey, start rounding up the prisoners - all of them!”

Nie Huaisang had two months, a lot of correspondence, and a great deal of practice imitating art styles. He’d been able to forge his own brother’s handwriting since was twelve - Jin Guangyao’s was much easier. Much neater

Nie Huaisang spotted the guard who’d been kind enough to let Granny come with A-Yuan, that first time, and pointed at him. “Make sure you get all the old people and babies and stuff, too! Anyone who can’t come on their own!

As Wens start to gather (be gathered) in the main square, most of the Nie cultivators clear a space and sketch out a large array in blood, a little from each cultivator’s hand. It’s wide enough for about forty people to stand in. When it’s done, Nie Huaisang nods to a disciple standing to the side with a bow. She leans back and shoots an arrow with a red ribbon into the sky. It vanishes in a spark of golden light

one of Nie Sect’s messenger arrows. It will land at Wen Qing’s feet in Qinghe to let her know that they’re on their way, and she can be ready with whatever medical care and reassurances she wants

He claps to get the muttering, anxious crowd’s attention, and can’t quite help but grin as he gets it. He gestures to the bloody array, reminiscent of a teleportation talisman on a grand scale. “All right, who wants to leave this terrible place where everyone hates you in exchange for a new terrible place where everyone hates you, travel by serving as the first test subjects of the Yiling Patriarch’s new mass-teleportation array?!”

[the hacker]

(a jest. Wei Wuxian definitely tested it first, on himself and a bunch of rabbits and himself+Jiang Cheng (in that order.) He promised.)

it’s a little out-of-character, but most of the guards who react just laugh meanly. And the Wens, hell yes, have been prepped. A handful protest, beg mercy or insist that this is their home, but for the most part, Nie Huaisang can recognize amateur acting when he sees it

thank goodness - they need a ratio of at least 1 participating cultivator to every 6 civilians to power the array, or the Nie cultivators supporting it from outside will exhaust themselves immediately

as the first group is going, a burst of light bright enough to blind, an arrow falls from the sky to Nie Huaisang’s feet. The note attached is from Liu Lifang: won’t take Lianfang-zun’s orders

aw, hell. He hesitates - another arrow lands, a green ribbon on the end. The first batch of Wens arrived safely in Qinghe

he passes both arrows to Zhao Huandi and murmurs, “I’m going to go sort this out. Make sure everyone gets through, stop it if something goes wrong with the teleportation. If something goes wrong with the Wens or the Jins...try not to kill anyone”

Zhao Huandi bows, turns and immediately starts shouting for the array to be checked for the next batch. Nie Huaisang makes some hasty, whining excuses to the Jin lieutenant, pulls out another teleportation, and-

arrives in the filthy refugee/prisoner city with a bit of the ache of an over-taxed golden core. He rests his hands on his knees for a moment, catching his breath

Still better than sword travel. He’s going to bother Wei Wuxian for these all the time, now

the woman left in charge in Jin Guangchao’s place is engaged in a staring glaring contest with Liu Lifang at their supervisory office. But have their arms crossed and the tension is so thick they’re both clearly itching to slice it with a sword

Nie Huaisang tumbles through the door with a whining, “What? Why did you call me?”

“I actually sent my message to Sect Leader Nie...” says Liu Lifang, with masterful confusion

“Well, he sent me,” Nie Huaisang complains. He turns to the other woman. “What’s the big deal? Da-ge said we should have a note for san-ge - that is, Jin Guangyao, Lianfang-zun - ”

She scowled even more darkly. “My orders come from Jin Guangchao and his from Sect Leader Jin Guangshan, not from Jin-zhongzhi’s bastard son”

[split-second thinking]

“Oh, but Guangyao-ge really knows what he’s doing,” said Nie Huaisang, wide-eyed. “He was so good at organizing everything, before da-ge had to banish him that one time” Bait...

“’So good’?” she challenges. “Then why’d he get banished at all?”

“Oh, you must have heard of my brother’s temper,” Nie Huaisang whines. “He gets so angry when one little thing goes wrong, and then Meng Yao - back then - did a pretty big thing...you’re so lucky Sect Leader Jin is more forgiving.” Hook...

“It would be terrible if Jin Guangyao did something to so anger Sect Leader Jin,” she said thoughtfully.

“I’m glad I doubt he ever would!” He gestured to the forged papers in Liu Lifang’s hand. “And as you can see, we have direct orders from him for you to release these prisoners into Nie Sect’s care - so won’t you do your duty and obey, so I can get back to my party?”

Do your duty, the orders themselves aren’t your responsibility, they’re his. The Jin cultivator nods slowly, then bows sharply, formal and faux-friendly. “Of course, Young Master Nie. How good of you to help your brother like this.”

Sinker.

(also not the worst idea, actually. a little dissension thrown into the Jin clan would be great)

Once again, most of the Wens are almost more willing the queue up than the guards are to make them, though many do blanch at the twenty-foot teleportation array drawn in blood (maximum power for minimal cost, Wei Wuxian had explained). A few are genuinely terrified of leaving; a few are almost certainly just enjoying the drama

a young man, as grubby as the rest and face hidden behind a shy curtain of hair, steps into the array without a flinch, and gives Nie Huaisang a subtle thumbs up. He waves back, just as underhanded, and lets slip a relieved sigh as he mentally crosses out “accidentally got her brother killed and/or captured/tortured/etc” on the list of reasons Wen Qing might kill him one day

[the thief spy]

(it hadn’t been easy to convince her to let him go in the first place. but really, Wen Ning was quick-thinking, trustworthy to all who met him, and good at staying hidden when he needed to. and they needed the Wens helping power the arrays, not to mention just not putting up a fight - everything going much quicker with word spread as to what was really happening. And, Nie Huaisang prided himself, it was just a little bit kinder)

this city’s worth were half gone to Qinghe when another messenger arrow landed at his feet in a burst of golden light. A purple ribbon - First Disciple Han Xiaoshi was done at Qiongqi Pass

she’d taken a much higher percentage of skilled warriors (not that all Nie Sect cultivators weren’t skilled warriors) than the other groups, as well as a “signed” note from Jin Guangyao. The work camp at Qiongqi Pass was the place Nie Huaisang least minded if the rescue of the Wens turned into a fight with the Jins. Sixth Uncle had taken nearly as long to get back into good health as Nie Mingjue, and he hadn’t liked hte way the inspectors smiled

[the hitter]

a few minutes later, a blue-ribboned arrow meant the first Qishan group was all through, too. Nie Huaisang and Liu Lifang’s group was the last to finish

they went with the last batch. One disciple stayed behind to clean it up and fly home - no point in sharing the Yiling Patriarch’s proprietary inventions with Jin Sect if they didn’t have to

the mass teleportation array is much worst than the single-use talisman. Nie Huaisang feels like he’s been turned upside-down and inside-out, and wrung out like a wet cloth besides. Golden core, more like yellowish pith. He does his best to stay standing

he’s knocked flat by the impact of a small mass slamming into his shins at high speed. “Sang-ge! Sang-ge! You didn’t say everyone was going to be at the wedding! Was it fun? Where are your pretty clothes?”

“My extra pretty clothes are in my qiankun bag, A-Yuan.” He pushed himself to sit up, and attempts to distangle the toddler from his legs. “Which is good, because you’re getting my normal pretty clothes all dirty on the ground!”

A-Yuan squeezed him even tighter, to show that nobody was the boss of him, then sprang away with his hands behind his back, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. That, too, lasted for about half a second before the boy was bouncing in place again. “Did you know that Uncle Four is here now, and Auntie Three, and Zhui Li and Mengmeng and Han Yao got a puppy - ”

“A-Yuan, stop harassing the poor man!” Granny hurried up behind him at a much slower pace than a toddler could manage. She bows, over A-Yuan-head, eyes shining. “Young Master Nie has done a great service for us this day. You should be saying thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, dreaming briefly of sliding a sword through Jin Guangshan’s throat. He forces himself to stand - the world has mostly stopped swimming - and pulls her upright, and pokes A-Yuan with his foot so he follows suit. “A-Yuan was just giving me a report - yes, we’re the last batch!” he calls to a cultivator approaching with a querulous expression. “You’d better send an arrow to da-ge to tell him that it’s all okay!”

Second Disciple Ling Jiaoshi nods and scribbles out a note, and hands it to a junior trailing behind him with a bow and arrow

behind them, around them, about five hundred Wens and Wen-associated people are milling around a deep valley tucked into Qinghe’s mountains. Most are avoiding the three great arrays painted in blood in the center of a some fields, mirrors to the ones in Qishan and Qiongqi Pass, though the landing sites will be inactive with their pairs destroyed. Many are exclaiming to see family and friends again, or looking around in wary uncertainty, or both. The main source of order is being imposed by the multiple triage tents, sorting out who needs medical attention and who just needs a blanket and hearty meal. Nie Huaisang can hear the Chief Physician yelling at someone in the distance

A-Yuan tugs on his hand and repeats accusatorially, “You didn’t say everyone was going to be at the wedding! That must have been so big! Are we all staying with Sang-ge and Miss Yi now? And Aunt Qing and Uncle Ning and Uncle Nie-Who-Needs-Quiet?” His eyes widen and he tugs even harder. “Did you bring new candy?!”

Nie Huaisang laughs and pulls from one pocket a silk flag in brilliant red, filched from the wedding decorations. “No, but I did get material for a new fan. Do you want to help me paint it?”

To be concluded with a brief epilogue!

#mdzs #the untamed #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #a yuan #UH #THIS WAS...LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE #BY A COUPLE THOUSAND WORDS I'M NOT GONNA LIE #I HAD TO GO TO SLEEP BEFORE FINISHING EVERYTHING #i just wanted...jiang yanli to have fun...and then the nie bros were almost kind of discussing feelings...#and then we still had to pull off the heist...

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hitsuackerman · 5 years ago

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Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.10

a/n: do ya’ll love Gei? because this chapter is dedicated for Gei <3

warnings: this cannot be read solo, flamboyance

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 11

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito

“I’m sorry but Endeavor’s schedule is still full. If you’d like to set a meeting with him, it would have to wait till next week.” Burnin answered over the phone.

It was now 2 days since the rather nice date with the chief. You could’ve done this yesterday but the chief had insisted you take the day off. Not sure what his intentions were, you took the opportunity nonetheless. Spending it with your family was the best choice. (Mostly for Nomura’s cooking though...)

Now, you were nested in your cubicle. Face buried in a day’s pile of delayed work. Disappointed that the arson case would have to be moved once more. Maybe the HPSC would take interest in this? Probably not. Still, you wrote down a note to call Mera just in case you were sick and tired of the dead ends.

“In that case, schedule me a 20 minute meeting with him. You can choose when and what time.” You replied and ended the call.

Looking at the time, it was almost lunch and you were set to meet with Gei. His workplace was only 10 minutes from your area and you could afford to take your time knowing this day wasn’t as heavy as the rest. Your phone dinged with a notification from the man himself.

Gei is the Best: Honey boo boo. Is it alright if you drop by the hospital first? I have this patient that just WON'T sit still for the love Beyonce >:(

You: Sure :) Need me to lower his BP? That might do the trick.

Gei is the Best: YAS! YOU DA BEST. Imma inform the receptionist. See you in a few! Lunch is on me <3

Taking your things, you informed Tsukauchi that you’d be out for the rest of the day. Upon hearing Gei’s name, he chuckled and asked for you to wait. Opening his desk drawer, he handed you a sealed envelope and told you to hand it to him.

“What’s this?”

“It’s some pictures of a recent guy I caught. He might find the man’s composition interesting. His quirk was body manipulation. It somehow failed and his quirk backfired on him. Try to imagine a human pretzel except… you can’t untangle him.” Tsukauchi explained. The slight look of amused disgust on his face.

“He does find these things interesting. So you’ll be asking him to fix the guy?”

“Yeah. Called him a while ago so he’ll be expecting that.”

After a few more small talk, you excused yourself and made your way to your car. Everything was going well till you saw the chief talking with another officer. Not wanting to have a chat with him, you turned and took the long way towards the parking area.

Now that you were on the road, you stopped at a red light and wore your ear piece. Using your car’s touch screen monitor, you clicked on Overhaul’s contact. It was lunch time, he surely didn’t have any schemes at this time.

“Problem child.” He answered after the second ring.

“Birdman.” You smiled at the pet names. “When are you free to test the earpiece?”

“Unfortunately my schedule is full today. Would tomorrow work?”

“Sure. What time are you available?”

“Lunch will do. Drop by the Shie Hassaikai. We can eat together.”

You did not intend to but your foot stepped on the brakes. Did you just hear him right? The car behind you honked his horn and that made you snap out of your daze. Remembering that he was still on the other line, you shook your head and tried to contain your curiosity.

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

“I’m more than capable of doing so.” The slight rise of his tone made your stomach feel ticklish. Your hands now held tightly on to the steering wheel, waiting for his next words. “But I’d rather not.”

“(favorite food). And you have a deal.” You turned towards the nearing hospital. Your mouth silently repeated ‘oh my god’ till you saw a parking spot.

“Till then, Problem child.”

When the call ended, you slammed on the brakes once more and shrieked. Feeling your blood pressure rising from the conversation, you placed your hand on your chest. A faint blue glow forming on your palms. Your rapid beating heart and incoming hyperventilation died down.

“Holy shit. It’s been a while since I used that on myself.”

Stepping out of the car, you walked towards the entrance of the hospital. The guard grinned as he saw you approaching. He knew who you were so you were able to skip the log book. Passing by the receptionist, she greeted you and said Gei was waiting in his office.

In the hallway, you could hear the sounds of shoes running around and a few announcements every now and then. Stopping at a window, you observed a few nurses helping some patients. Most of them had tubes connected to their bodies but none of them looked to be in pain. The machines inside were white and you could see how the liquids were gently shaking.

“OH MY LORD!” You turned around and looked at the direction of the scream. “WILL YOU SIT STILL?! I SWEAR TO THE ALMIGHTY FATHER JAY-Z, IF YOU DO NOT SIT STILL I WILL HAVE TO USE THIS ON YOU!”

Running towards his office, you immediately opened the door only to find Gei in his white coat. His hair a shriveled mess, a syringe with clear white liquid, and the patient hiding behind the sofa.

“Gei?”

“Close the door baby girl!” He yelled and lunged towards the patient. Somehow he was able to grab a hold of the hospital gown. Tugging the male into his hold, he turned to face you. “Your quirk please!”

Not wanting to anger Gei, you hurriedly made your way to the two people. Placing your hand on to the male’s chest, both of you saw how his shoulders relaxed. The crazed demeanor was now replaced with one of calm. You felt a tug on your palm and quickly adjusting your control, you increased his blood pressure till he was deemed stable.

You and Gei led the man to the sofa to where he sat down. Keeping your hand on his chest, you maintained control as Gei did his usual magic. Now that you were able to assess the patient, you saw the dislocation his arm had. His sleeves had hidden it from sight.

Watching as your friend used his quirk, the dislocation began to fix itself till it was finally back to normal.

“Now that that’s over with, put him to sleep boo.” Gei said while he walked towards his desk and paged a nurse to come get the patient.

Lowering the blood pressure even more, you felt the patient losing his consciousness. When his head fell, you had finished your job. Making him lean onto the sofa, you closed his eyelids and observed his breathing. It was steady and even. Not long after, a soft snore erupted from the sleeping man.

“What exactly just happened?”

“The way his arm was dislocated made it rather painful. Told him if he would relax, I could ease the pain by a tiny bit. Lord of quirks, the man panicked and began his episode.” Gei explained as he fixed his coat and poured alcohol into his palms. When the nurse arrived, he assisted in carrying the patient into the bed.

“Busy day?” You relaxed on to the chair and held a throw pillow.

“Oh honey no. Nothing I can’t handle. Your presence only made things quicker.” He exaggerated a wink. “Remind me why you didn’t pursue the medical world?”

“I retain information badly. And to top it off, my quirk just makes me into a human sphygmomanometer. It’s helpful but it works better with the police force in times of raids.”

“Well, if yo happy with yo job then do what you do boo.” Taking his coat off, he hung it on his chair and began to keep the files and paper works. Remembering the file in your bag, you reached for it and tossed it onto his table. When Gei saw the penmanship, he nodded and placed it in his drawer. “Send him my thanks and a hug as well~”

Now that Gei was ready, the both of you were now walking in the lobby. A bunch of other nurses greeted him with his hard earned title. Doctor.

“Dr. Hanayaka. Don’t forget your appointment with patient 247 later today.”

“Yes yes. I have it on my sched. Now puh-leaz! I am on break and I need to refresh my beauty with this lady over here.” He winked at the nurse who simply shook her head with amusement. “Go do your thing now, love.”

“It’s amazing how they put up with you.” You commented as both of you exited the building.

“Of course~ I have the charm, the look, and the wits.” He snapped his finger with each description he had for himself. “All I need now is a man.”

Unlocking your car, the both of you got in and drove to the restaurant he had in mind. It wasn’t too far from both your offices so you didn’t mind. It didn’t take too long before you found yourself seated in a comfortable booth by the window with menus in hand. Choosing one of their best sellers, the waitress was quick to get your orders.

“So… how was the date two nights ago?” Gei was in full gossip mode now.

“It ended pretty well.” A smirk formed on your face.Recalling how the chief experienced a bad stomach ache was satisfying. “The food was fine and luckily he didn’t cause a scene since his food made his stomach go bad.”

“Who was he anyway?” He titled his head. He knew you were too busy to even casually date or even try one of those speed dating things. If there was one man he knew you were interested in but it was too obvious you were still blind that the feelings were growing. “You never told me his name, never mentioned how you met, or even his age. Did you meet in Sinder?”

“Don’t freak out or whatever.” Upon seeing him nodding his head, you let out a long and tired sigh. “It’s my chief.”

Gei held on to his chest and began to hyperventilate. His face morphed into one with disgust and disbelief. Even made fake puking sounds to add to his reaction.

“Oh. Heyll. No.” His voice went a range higher. “Sis. Why the hell you go out with that man? You ain’t got no daddy issues! And don’t go tellin’ me no man would take interest in you cause thaz bullshit.”

“It was either that or I get 10 more cases. I already have too much on my hands. Two of which are major.” You explained and sunk deeper onto the chair. “It’s fine, though. The dinner ended on a nice note. His stomach ache was just so bad that he practically pushed me out of his car.”

Gei’s mind went ticking. The chief asks you out on a date, the date ends on a disaster for him but a success for you. Staring at your happy face, he lifted his fleek eyebrow and placed one knee on top of the other. Leaning onto the arm rest and pouting.

“Tell me, baby girl, whatdyu the day before the date?”

“Me and the chief met up with Overhaul for a quick meeting. Then he got mad cause the chief cut me off and then he dropped me home to let me take a shower cause he said I smelled like him.”

“And what does your brain have to say about that?” Gei asked. A sly smile on his face.

“Not much.” You shrugged your shoulders. “He was right, though. I smelled like beetroots.”

“Oh good lord.” Gei uttered to himself. “Beyonce, if you’re out there, bless this oblivious woman…”

“BUT, the waiter at the restaurant was pretty attractive.” Seeing how Gei shimmied his shoulders and leaned in closer was always fun. “I didn’t get his name, though. However, he had pretty cool hair. Like, arrows for the ends.”

“In that case, imma make a reservation.” He smacked his lips just in time for the food to be served.

The rest of the meal was light and fun. Occasional teasing from him which you didn’t take to heart. You had asked him how his job was and his patients, he in turn asked for updates about cases you could speak freely about in public. Now that the food was gone, he reached for his neon pink wallet to hand over the payment.

“By the way, I’m free tomorrow.” He added with a slight jump. “Wanna stop by this new cafe that opened down the block?”

“I can't. I'm meeting Overhaul tomorrow.”

“You say that so casually as if he isn’t a class-B villain.” He pointed out. “Look me straight in the eye and tell me your heart doesn’t skip a beat when you see him.”

And you did. Straight up told him that it did not. However, you still told him that he would sometimes catch you off guard and end up stuttering or catching your breath. All you’re flamboyant friend could do was to send a prayer to his queen that you would one day realize that you were slowly falling for the villain.

Lucky for him, his prayers would be answered soon enough.

Sadly, it came with a cost.

----

another date but this time with Overhoe himself? wew~ the possilities..

do you guys have any questions? feel free to comment and ill gladly answer them :) take care and i hope you guys like this chapter <3

#overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki kai #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai

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plaidbooks · 5 years ago

Text

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 5

A/N: They have met! And now they are stuck together! Will Barba be able to not be an asshole to Devon? Will he stop rolling his eyes? Tune in to find out!

Just kidding; this chapter starts off on the next day. About halfway through, it jumps, so watch out! I do put the dates, so they are kinda important. But in case you miss them, I think I also generally put in a sentence explaining the jump. I also totally head cannon both Barba and Fin as super not-morning people. Also also, I spent...too much time looking up knife wounds for this to be as accurate as it is. Triple also, obligatory straddling/pinning down scene while training >.>

Shoutout to my friend Adrian in Colombia, who translated Spanish phrases for me. They are in English in parenthesis next to the Spanish.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: blood, stab wounds, knives, fighting

Words: 11k+

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Friday, January 28th. 4:00am

Devon was the first awake—not something new to her. Actually, it was incredibly rare that she wasn’t the first up; ever since taking the UC in California, she had trouble sleeping, exasperated by the time difference. There was just too much going on in her mind, especially now, having to protect someone for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Plus, the root of the problem (that she refused to admit, even to herself) was that she was always on alert, always afraid of resting, even for a few hours at night. She never felt safe, even when she wasn’t working a job. Her place in the FBI was one that she loved, but it also put her in harm’s way often. She knew that she had enemies out there: cartels, mobs, gangs. But she never had anyone come after her directly. She had buddies in high ranking FBI positions, and even in the CIA, that would routinely check if they had heard about a hit on her, but it has only happened a couple times in the past, and always a one-person vendetta. Not a whole gang, like what Barba now faced. Even so, Devon was always on alert, even when simply walking down the street.

So, when she woke up at 4am to a quiet loft on this Friday morning, it was no surprise. She got up, stretched, then got on the floor. She did pushups, sit-ups, stretches, lunges, and every other exercise she could think to do when in the living room of a loft—no chance for a run, and even less of a chance to hit the gym. Barba didn’t look like the “gym” type. Devon chuckled at the thought as she worked. Once finished, she snuck into the bathroom in the hallway, praying that Barba was a heavy sleeper; waking him up early was probably not a great start to the day. She stripped quickly and hopped in the shower. She had shampoo, conditioner, and soap in her grip, plus deodorant, toothbrush and paste, and a variety of perfume.

She prided herself in being prepared for anything that fate threw at her; she collected perfumes and outfits for her job as a chameleon. She was damn good at blending in, and she planned on doing that today. She knew that Barba was…less than ideal as a victim; he was abrasive, spiteful, and seemed to dislike having her around—last night seemed like fatigue took out some of his bite. But she could play into that; she planned on wearing neutral colors, wearing natural-colored makeup, and donning a soft perfume. She wanted to look as plain as possible, wanted no one to notice her. Wanted to just be another face in the courthouse. The only thing that gave her away was the badge and gun on her waistband—though her jacket hid them unless at the right angle—and a knife strapped to her upper thigh. The sheath, straps, and hilt of the knife was black, which blended in with her black slacks. Ever since the UC in California, Devon kept the knife on her at all times—well, maybe not while sleeping.

Dressed and feeling refreshed, Devon tiptoed out of the bathroom. There was no sound from Barba’s room, so she assumed he was still asleep. She opened her laptop and wrote up her report from the day before; she’d have to have a report for every day for Olivia, plus a report for her boss, Jenkins. Even though she wasn’t technically working for the FBI for this, she knew that he’d want a debriefing at the end of this. Soon enough, she heard Barba’s muffled alarm go off, heard him haphazardly slap it until it turned off. He let out a groan and the bed creaked as he stood. A couple moments passed, and then the tale tell sound of a shower starting up filled the loft. Devon finished Olivia’s report at the same time Barba opened his bedroom door, walking quickly to the living room. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, bright blue tie bringing out the green of his eyes. He wore a strong cologne, his hair slicked back; he looked handsome, but his face showed that he was not quite awake yet.

He looked at his watch; he was running a little late today. He sighed, then jumped when he saw Devon sitting on the loveseat, fully awake and dressed. He had forgotten in his rush that she had stayed the night, had thought it might have been a dream.

“Good morning~!” she sang out, closing her laptop. She packed it into a small computer bag, then went to disable the screaming doorstop. Once disabled, she placed it on the coffee table.

“Morning,” he replied, groggily. He grabbed his briefcase and went to open the front door. Devon cut him off, opening it and poking her head out, checking the corridor. Barba caught himself rolling his eyes; he remembered that he resolved to be a “good victim” for her, no matter how ridiculous her safety precautions seemed. Once determined clear, they both made their way to the elevator. His phone went off and he looked to see who was texting him this early. Oh, Olivia. Of course.

Fin and Rollins are outside your loft, ready to take you to work

Barba couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes this time as he responded. I agreed to having one babysitter, not three

Liv wrote back almost immediately. Just get in the car, Barba

The elevator doors opened, and Devon took the lead again. Barba informed her that they had an escort this morning and who to look for.

Devon let out a giddy laugh at some unknown joke, and Barba wondered how someone could be so perky in the morning. “How Liv got Fin out of bed this early, I will never know.” Barba smiled at the fact that someone was as grumpy as he was and followed her over to the detective’s car. They greeted each other, and Barba saw Devon struggling to hide a smile as Fin was downright nasty. He said nothing as he waited for them to get in, Rollins not nearly as successful as Devon in hiding her smile at Fin’s expense.

1 Hogan Place

Friday, January 28th. 7:30am

Fin dropped them off in front of the DA’s building and barely waited for Barba and Devon to get out of the car before he peeled away.

“I know that some people aren’t morning people, but jeez,” Devon chuckled.

“And I thought that I was moody in the morning,” Barba replied. Devon turned to the doors but stopped when she saw Barba turn the opposite direction.

“Trying to ditch me already?” Devon admonished, whipping around to face the same direction.

“Of course not; I just want some good coffee before I have to deal with shitty office coffee,” Barba said. He looked both ways, then did a little jog across the street. Devon, seeing the only coffee stand across the street, kept up with the ADA easily. She looked around on high alert, looking at everyone who even glanced their way. She had her gun on her hip, like normal, but realized two things; 1) it would be too slow to reach for it if someone came at Barba with a gun already drawn, and 2) it probably wouldn’t look good to the public if she did have it drawn. Instead, she opted for the knife she kept strapped to her outer left thigh. It was over her clothes, but it had a button release so that it couldn’t be drawn without hitting the button. She hit that button now and kept the short throwing dagger in her left hand. She was ambidextrous when it came to hand-to-hand combat, including with knives; they were her specialty. She actually felt more competent with a knife than with a gun, but until recently, she hadn’t been given the OK to use them in the streets.

“Did you want something?” Barba asked, pulling Devon’s attention to him. She realized that they were standing at the window, Barba having already ordered. The barista was looking at her expectantly.

“Oh, sure, sorry. I’ll have a large mocha, please.” She looked at the menu really quick, realizing that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, and added, “and a poppyseed muffin, please and thank you.” The barista nodded and went to grab the muffin. “Thank you,” she said to Barba as he pulled some bills out of his wallet.

“No problem,” he gave her a puzzled look. “Where were you just now?”

Devon gave another quick glance around their surroundings before answering, “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t die right now.” She said it as a joke, but the realness of it settled on Barba.

“Well, I’m glad you’re the one staying on top of it. I’m not even awake enough to consider throwing a punch right now,” he smirked, grabbing their coffees, and thanking the barista—Jordan, if memory served. Barba tried to hand Devon hers before realizing that her hands were taken up. He knew that she had a muffin, but he was shocked to see a knife glinting in her left hand. Devon hesitated a moment before sheathing the knife at her side—he didn’t even notice the holster strapped to her leg, it blended in well—and took the coffee.

“Thanks again,” she said before taking a sip. Barba opened his mouth to warn her; Jordan may run the best coffee stand in town, but his coffee was also notorious for being incredibly hot. But Devon was able to take a sip, not even flinching. She lowered the cup from her mouth, clicked her tongue a couple times, tasting the coffee, before swallowing and saying, “this coffee is hot as hell.”

Barba laughed at that; a nice sound, Devon noticed. She was glad that he seemed a little looser today than yesterday. Maybe it was just nerves that made him that crabby the day before. She couldn’t blame him; the flood of adrenaline and emotions that come from narrowly avoiding death can sour anyone’s mood, especially twice in as many days. At least this smoldering coffee would make for a good weapon, since she didn’t have the hands for a knife right now.

They quickly made their way back across the street, into the DA’s building. Barba was shocked when Devon didn’t insist on leading him; instead, they walked side by side. It was only once inside that he figured out why; the building was bustling, even this early. Attorneys, police officers, and other general people moved in and out of hallways, ducking into their offices. Barba and Devon weaved their way through the throng, quickly making it to his office. Once there, Devon ripped into the muffin while Barba prepared his first court case for the day. Devon offered him some of her muffin—“you should really eat something before going and standing all day”—but he declined; he had a stash of snacks in his desk. He pulled out a small package of nuts and ate them while he made sure his case was solid, or as solid as it was going to be, going over every little detail that he could think of. Once it was 8:30, Barba gathered his things, mentally aligning himself with his work self; he was in no way a saint outside the court, but he was downright devilish in the courtroom, and he knew it, prided himself on it.

Devon had since finished her muffin and mocha and stood when she saw Barba gathering his things. She made a last-minute decision, leaving her laptop behind; she wouldn’t be able to work in the gallery anyways. She muted her phone and followed Barba out of his office. What had always seemed like a short, easy walk from his office to the courthouse now seemed to take forever. Devon’s head was constantly on a swivel, watching the crowded street, marking every person who looked a little too long, who gave a weird look. One man reached into his pocket and Devon’s heart leapt into her throat until she saw him simply pull out his phone and start typing. This is going to be a very, very long job, she thought.

It was a relief when they made it to the stairs leading into the courthouse. If Barba felt any of the anxiousness that Devon did, he showed no sign of it. Instead, he seemed calm, collected. He took the lead up the stairs, and Devon let him. He knew the courthouse better than she did, so she let him lead her through the winding hallways, keeping an eye open to the people around. They made it to the courtroom, and Barba went up to his normal table, while Devon sat directly behind him, turning to look at everyone who opened the door behind her, just in case. She still didn’t particularly enjoy being in a courtroom, but her fear was much more manageable, thanks to the time she spent with ADA Casey Novak. This quickly became their routine for the whole day; they walked together to whichever courtroom Barba was assigned, He went to the table while she sat and watched from the gallery as he destroyed the defense’s case over and over again. Devon was impressed with how well he conducted himself in court, glad to see he was just as capable, even more so, than the past ADAs she dealt with. Then they would leave, sometimes going back to his office, but more likely, heading to another courtroom. They broke at around 2pm; they hid in Barba’s office and ordered takeout while he worked on some papers and she trolled the FBI database for information on the Aces. They barely got their food by the time Barba was called into the DA’s office to ask about the attempt on his life the day before. Devon was honestly shocked it took that long for his boss to mention anything. She strong-armed her way into the DA’s office with Barba, much to his chagrin. The DA—Jack McCoy—wasn’t too pleased about it, but she knew how to deal with his type. She let Barba relay in brief detail what had happened, and then explained that she was there to protect him. Seemingly satisfied with that, McCoy kicked them both out of his office. Afterwards, they hurried back to Barba’s office, and got a couple of bites in before it was time to go back to the courtroom.

“I’m sorry about this,” Barba said, indicating the food. “Don’t get much time to eat in this profession.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine. Work is work,” Devon smiled. She knew what it was like to not have a moment to yourself, let alone to eat. And the last thing Devon was, was a complainer. So, they went back to the courtrooms, the cases, the defense vs. the prosecution. It wasn’t until 6pm that they made it back to his office. Only two of the cases had ended in convictions today, but they were in Barba’s favor. Devon marveled at how well-spoken he was in court; she may be a negotiator, but she wanted to learn some of his tricks. Maybe she’d pick them up if she watched him work enough.

Barba put the takeout container down, sighing contently. “I promise that most days aren’t this intense. Maybe a week or two every other month. I’m not normally in court this often. I’m usually in here, prepping,” he gestured at his office.

“Why the big case load?” Devon asked. She was genuinely interested; she had never worked closely with a lawyer before, especially an ADA. She didn’t know the ins and outs, but if she learned, maybe she could add that profession to her repertoire of fake jobs she took while undercover.

Barba sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Besides the one case that got moved to today from yesterday, there was a huge sex trafficking bust a couple months ago. A lot of the people involved took a plea, but the ones who didn’t are finally getting processed. Those two cases from today will be continued tomorrow, but after that, it should slow down.”

Devon nodded. “I forget how long the courts take, sometimes. I’m actually surprised that their being processed only a couple of months after the fact.”

“Through some legal maneuvers, and with urges from the mayor, the DA was able to speed up their trials.”

Devon gave Barba a knowing look; she knew how the Big Bosses pushed around things that they wished to. Liv complained about 1PP all the time, and she had experienced it every now and again with the Feds.

“Well, I don’t mind; running around so much means time goes by much quicker.”

Barba smiled at that, “sometimes, too quick. Speaking of,” he looked at the time, “I think that’s it for tonight.”

Devon looked at the clock on the wall. 7:05pm. “Wow, calling it early, eh?”

“I try and not spend my whole life trapped here, as much as it appears otherwise,” he replied. Devon grinned, standing up. Barba stood as well, grabbing his things. Devon swung her laptop bag over her shoulder, unsheathed her knife—she wanted less conspicuous tonight, and her gun still felt heavy in her hand--and made her way to the door. Barba waited behind her, without prompting today, as she cracked open the door and made sure the coast was clear. It wasn’t until after the elevator doors opened, letting them off, that they noticed how many people were still around. Devon kept the knife by her side, though she kept her arm loose, flexible, ready to defend. But they met no obstacles as they made their way outside. Devon was shocked to see that Fin and Rollins were once again parked outside, readying to escort the two back to Barba’s place.

“Liv said she texted you,” Rollins said as an explanation. Taken aback, Devon took out her phone and noticed that there were a couple missed texts from Olivia. Then it dawned on her; her phone was still muted from earlier. She’d have to remember to keep it on vibrate from now on. She sent a quick apology text, promising to call once they were secured at Barba’s place.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Friday, January 28th. 7:30pm

“Today wasn’t so bad,” Devon commented after hanging up her call with Liv.

Barba had been working on the coffee table again and looked up. “No, it really wasn’t. I hope I’m not being lulled into a false sense of security, what with no attempt on my life today.”

Devon was going to joke about how the night was still young but thought better of it. She realized that she still didn’t really know this man; she didn’t know his humor, and she didn’t want to worry him. Besides, today really had been pretty good; she didn’t notice anyone tailing them, or anyone threatening. But that just seemed to add to her anxiety; they went from back-to-back attacks to nothing. They could be taking this time to plan. She was going to have to be more alert the next day.

After a couple hours of work, they both said goodnight, and made their separate ways to bed. And with a full day together done, this became their framework for every day afterwards, never really deviating from the norm.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Monday, March 16th. 9:36pm

“When did you join the FBI?” Barba asked. They were eating pizza for dinner in Barba’s loft. It had been almost 2 months since he was shot at, and Devon took on the job of bodyguard. There hadn’t been an attempt since, which only made Devon more nervous; her head was on a swivel, eyes never settling on anything for too long. Sleep had been becoming harder and harder for her, eyes snapping open at every creak. If Barba was feeling nervous, he didn’t show it; he just went about his day as if nothing were different. At least Liv had called the day before to tell them that 11 Aces were now in jail; the only good news they had gotten. But none of them were talking to the SVU detectives about the hit.

Devon thought about how much she wanted to say. She chose a simple answer. “I was recruited when I was 20.”

“Recruited? How do you get recruited to the FBI?”

Whoops, wrong use of words. “Carefully,” she said, smirking.

Barba knew her enough to know that he’d get nowhere if he pushed the subject. There were only a couple subjects that Devon avoided, mostly her childhood and family. Barba couldn’t tell yet if she locked her past away because of her training in the FBI, or because it was painful to revisit. To be completely fair, he dodged the question about his parents, too, when she retaliated after he asked her first.

After a pause, Devon asked, “why ADA?”

This was how almost every night went when they weren’t absorbed in their own work. One of them would break the silence with a question, and then they’d get sucked into hours-long discussions. They were slowly getting more comfortable with each other—easy to do when they were stuck with each other all day, every day. Devon had even followed Barba into the men’s restroom at the courthouse, to his embarrassment. It took some arguing, but she eventually checked every stall and left, not allowing anyone else in until Barba had finished and come back out, still red in the face.

“To be honest, it wasn’t my first choice…or a path I even considered until my last years in high school.” Barba thought back to his high school years, to his past career choices. He never had a “dream job;” he actually felt like he was living it now, even if it wasn’t something that had crossed his mind as a child. “I had no idea what I wanted to do as a kid. I played around with some stupid hobbies, but they didn’t pan out. So, in high school, I just started taking classes that sounded interesting. I ended up taking a criminology course and fell in love, as cliché as that sounds.” Barba smiled at the memory. “I did well enough that I got a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”

Devon nodded; she liked hearing stories of people finding themselves, finding their passions. She was glad that Barba seemed motivated; he actually loved his job, instead of being forced into it by his parents. Though, she was curious what his idea of “stupid hobbies” was.

Barba thought a moment, then asked, “you said you joined the FBI at age 20. Does that mean you skipped college?”

Devon grimaced. “Uh, yeah, I never even applied.” She tried to shut out the memories from that part of her life, but the familiar knot formed in her stomach.

“Say you quit the FBI; you’ve had enough, and you’re done with all of it. What profession would you go into?”

Devon thought for a long time. It had been so long since she even considered doing a different job. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ve been in the FBI for nearly two decades. They don’t exactly teach job skills outside of my profession.”

Barba scoffed, “come on, you must have had a dream job when you were a child, right? What would you have done if you never joined the FBI?”

Devon knew the answer to the latter, but she knew she couldn’t tell him. I’d be in jail. Instead, she answered, “I didn’t really have a dream job lined up. When I was in high school, I only ever thought about college as just a way to get away from my parents; I had no long-term goals. I honestly didn’t even see myself as attending college, not that I could’ve afforded it, anyways.”

Barba was at a loss for words. He tucked the small nugget of information about her family into his mind, which answered an earlier question; she didn’t talk about her family because it was painful. He could certainly understand that.

Both of them seemed to be content with letting the conversation die there. It was getting late anyways, and Barba had yet another early morning the next day, though not as early as that first day. They went through their nightly routines before saying their goodnights and heading to bed. They both had a little trouble sleeping that night, stuck in memories of past lives, both good and bad.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Tuesday, March 17th. 4:00am

The next morning, their routine hadn’t changed. Devon was up first, showered, and ready for the day. She had a weird feeling in her gut, so she made sure she packed some gauze and an extra shirt in her laptop bag. She didn’t believe in superstitions, but she did know to listen to her gut; it’s saved her ass before. By the time she was ready, Barba was up and showering.

“Morning,” he grumbled when he came out, voice thick with sleep.

To the untrained eye, he didn’t look any different than normal; sharp suit, sharp hair, sharp cologne. But Devon could see the exhaustion in his expression, in his slightly stooped shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep?” A tired huff was his only reply. “Why don’t I make us some coffee? Carmen won’t care if you’re a little late today. ‘Sides, you don’t have an arraignment until 9:30—we got time.”

Barba was too tired to argue. He sat heavily in the armchair while Devon flitted about the kitchen, scooping coffee into Barba’s French press—something she had teased him about the first time he showed her how to use it (“how can some kid from the Bronx be such a coffee snob?”). While the water heated up, Devon examined Barba’s resting form; his eyes were closed, his breaths were soft. It was almost as if he had fallen back asleep. But he opened his eyes when he heard Devon move to pour the water into the pot. After a couple more minutes, letting the water seep into the coffee the perfect amount, Devon poured them both a healthy amount in to-go cups, pouring in the small amount of sugar she knew Barba liked, and the copious amounts she liked herself.

“Thanks,” Barba said with a small smile, standing and taking the cup from her. She smiled back, then headed for the door, checking the corridor like normal before leading him down to the street.

“What took so long?” Amaro said by way of greeting, though there was no real anger in his voice. Rollins made eye contact with Devon and raised her eyebrows. Devon, oblivious, shrugged and got in the back with Barba.

“Made some coffee this morning. We were up late working,” Devon replied. Rollins’s smile grew, and even Amaro made eye contact with Devon in the rearview mirror.

“Oh yeah? Working on what?” Amaro asked accusingly.

“Get your minds out of the gutter, detectives,” Barba spat before taking a long sip of coffee. If Devon didn’t know any better, she’d swear she saw a blush on his cheeks. But why is he blush—oh, Devon thought, feeling her own face turn red. Is that what they thought they were doing last night? She took her own sip of coffee, attempting to hide her face. They sat in silence for the rest of the car ride, trying to ignore the tension in the backseat.

1 Hogan Place

Tuesday, March 17th. 8:30am

All of the detectives have learned to drop Devon and Barba off across the street from the DA’s building at this point, so that they could get their morning coffee. Even though they both had a cup in their hands, the habit was hard to break, and Amaro dropped them off in the normal spot.

“Idiots,” Barba mumbled as they drove off, and Devon didn’t think it had anything to do with where they were dropped off. Her face was still red, and she couldn’t look at Barba directly. Glad to see SVU is still a gossip ring, she thought.

“Let’s at least grab some breakfast,” she suggested, walking towards Jordan’s coffee stand. Those muffins really were delicious. She heard Barba sigh and follow her.

The tension in the air was still tight, and Devon desperately wanted to say something to change the subject, but nothing came to mind. She looked down at the coffee in her hand, coming up with a weak topic.

“Hey, feeling more awake now?” she asked sheepishly. When Barba didn’t answer, she chanced a glance at him. His mouth was slightly ajar, eyes wide in shock and fear, locked on something over Devon’s right shoulder. Instinct took over, and she threw herself in front of him, coffee flying out of her hand. She had her forearm pushed across his chest, shoving him against the coffee cart, her face inches from his. She felt a pressure that turned to pain in her right shoulder, but adrenaline had taken over, and the pain was soon forgotten. Without missing a beat, Devon whipped around and saw one of the men from the night in the alley—Rogelio Olivera—looking shocked and backing away slowly. His arm was raised, but nothing was in his hand, which seemed odd to her. But she had no time to think about it as she used her momentum, turning towards him to punch him in the face with her left fist. Rogelio went sprawling onto the ground.

Movement in the corner of Devon’s eye caught her attention. Jose, the younger brother and the other man from the alley, was trying to use the diversion his brother set up to attack Devon, knife gripped in his hand. He swung it towards her gut, but she blocked, throwing her right forearm haphazardly into his hard enough that he dropped his weapon. She pushed down on him, letting his momentum carry him downwards, and she punched him hard on the spine with her left, dropping him to the ground. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out one of her pairs of handcuffs and cuffed him before he could regain his composure. She couldn’t get a grip on his wrists with her right hand, though—there was so much blood on her hand, it made everything slippery. In the rush, Devon didn’t think about where the blood came from, nor the fact that the muscles in her right hand weren’t working correctly. Instead, she pushed a knee between his shoulders, forced his hands together with her left, and somehow cuffed him with the right.

“Stop resisting,” she said. Shockingly, he laid still, turning his attention to the right. Devon saw the movement and followed his line of sight to his brother.

Rogelio, who was just getting to his feet, gave his brother a guilty look. He was just out of reach of Devon, so she instead reached for her knife on her thigh. Rogelio saw his chance and took it; he turned and ran. He only made it a couple steps by the time Devon had cocked back her left arm and threw her knife. It twirled through the air perfectly, blade over handle, before embedding itself into his left calf. He stumbled to the ground, yelping in pain.

Devon looked to Barba, who’s mouth was agape in shock and awe, and commanded, “call 911 now. Tell them we need a bus and an officer.” With that, she sat Jose up, telling him not to move, and then made her way to Rogelio. He was clutching his calf, which was bleeding but not gushing, and looked like he was going for the knife. “Leave that there; you’ll bleed out if you don’t,” she advised. She felt like handcuffs were kind of unnecessary at this point, so she half helped, half dragged him to where his brother was sitting quietly, possibly in shock as he stared at the knife protruding from his brother’s leg.

She looked up as Barba hung up his phone, his hands shaking, eyes still wide. “Are you okay?” she asked. In the madness, she never looked to see if he was injured or not. Mentally, she berated herself for even letting this two get close enough to attack, getting distracted by some idiotic rumors. Stupid….

“I’m fine; are you okay?” His voice was full of concern. When Devon squinted in confusion, he continued, “there’s a knife in your shoulder.”

As if he had spoken it into existence, pain shot through her right shoulder. She looked and was able to make out the hilt sticking out of her back. That…explains a lot, she thought, remembering the pain she felt earlier after shielding Barba, the blood, and not being able to use her hand while cuffing Jose. She looked at her right hand, now covered in red, flexing and closing her fingers. At least those still worked, albeit weakly, but she was unwilling to test the full motion of her arm, at least until the knife was removed.

“Never better,” she tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. Sirens were going off in the distance; the ambulance was coming. Devon looked around at the gathering crowd, noticing that most of them had phones out, filming everything. Great; if the Aces didn’t know Barba had protection, they did now. With any luck, they wouldn’t hire anyone outside the gang to take him out; hopefully, it was a personal enough hit that they wouldn’t outsource. Either way, Devon was going to have to make some calls, keep an eye on known hitmen. She ignored the people murmuring about police brutality, and just tried to focus on the next steps. No one looked like they were about to take a shot at Barba, but she still hovered near his side, just in case. The pain in her shoulder hurt, but it wasn’t extreme; she’d had worse before. Though, the blood starting to pool at her feet, dripping off her fingers, wasn’t a great sign. At least she had extra gauze and an extra shirt. Always follow those gut instincts.

The ambulance arrived a few moments later, three cop cars right behind it. One set of cops took Jose into custody while another set took Rogelio to the back of the ambulance. Devon followed, handing the EMT her card and asking for her knife to be returned to her after it was taken out. The EMT looked a little disgusted with her priorities but took the card anyways.

“That was a little tactless,” Barba said.

“That was a really good knife,” Devon replied.

The last two cops came to check on Devon and Barba, get their statements. Once they saw the handle sticking out of Devon’s shoulder, though, they called an EMT over. Devon had lost enough blood to feel woozy, but not enough that the EMT could convince her to go to the hospital. Being a torso wound, the EMT could dislodge it right there, after discerning that no major arteries were hit, though he did so begrudgingly, saying that she should really go to the hospital. After the knife was removed, and Devon received 8 stitches, she went through the whole range of motions that she could; it seemed like the knife had missed the important stuff, though she couldn’t raise her right arm above her head. The EMT gave her a look before forcing her to sit still and wrapping her in gauze. Statements given, and all patched up, Devon led Barba into the courthouse and away from the growing crowd. With the time wasted, they were now running late for Barba’s first arraignment of the day.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You should go to the hospital,” Barba said once away from the peering faces.

Devon focused on walking straight, one foot in front of the other, trying to block out the pain, the wooziness. “I’m fine, really. This isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed.” Barba whipped to look at her, trying to find out if she was joking or not. “Besides, how are you feeling? You’re due in court”—she looked at her phone—“2 minutes from now. Are you feeling up to it? Should I convince the judge to give you a continuous?”

After the attack, Barba’s hands had been shaking. From fear, adrenaline, or worry, he didn’t know; maybe it was a mix of all the above. But with how long it took to give statements to the officers, to remove the knife and get Devon patched up, and then her fighting with the EMTs to not go to the hospital, Barba’s nerves had calmed down. At least a little bit; better than nothing.

“I’m fine; it’s only arraignments,” he replied. She shot him a skeptical look; they didn’t have time to eat their breakfast and they didn’t have time to make any coffee in his office. He was going to say more to try and reassure her, but they had arrived at the courtroom he needed to go preach law into anyways. Barba had a sudden thought, looking at Devon, or more importantly, the state of her clothes; her shirt, though black, was sticky and turning hard from dried blood. Sitting behind her, one could even see the stab hole in the fabric, the white of the gauze peeking through. In the craziness of the attack, Devon had dropped her laptop bag, and had completely forgotten to change clothes. Barba took the overcoat he had been carrying and held it up for Devon to put on.

“Here, wear this,” he prompted.

Ever sharp, even with her woozy mind, Devon understood immediately, slipping her arms into the sleeves and shrugging the heavy coat on. The winter jacket was way too hot to be worn in the courtroom, but it was better than having a bloodied Federal Agent in the front row of the gallery. Plus, it was only arraignments; they didn’t take long. It also smells like his cologne…she thought, wistfully, mind drifting.

“You’re late, Mr. Barba,” Judge Barth admonished when they both finally walked into the courtroom. He had some snappy comment that Devon missed; she spent all her attention on making it to the bench on wobbly legs.

Devon dutifully sat in the front row of the gallery, right behind Barba. He gave her one more once-over, noticing how her eyelids drooped and how pained she looked, sweat on her brow, before switching his mind into ADA-mode. He could worry about her injury later.

Luckily, it was only a couple arraignments, so after 2 hours, they were headed back to Barba’s office. Devon seemed alert, but not like normal; it was almost as if she was relying more on instincts than on thoughts. Her eyelids were still drooping, her footsteps seemed heavier, and she wasn’t looking around as much as she usually did. But she still hung close to his side protectively, uninjured hand resting on her gun hidden under Barba’s jacket that she was still wearing. They made it quickly to his office, Devon making it through the door first, to make sure no one unexpected was occupying his office. Once cleared, she all but collapsed onto the short couch against the wall, letting out a grunt of pain.

“No calls or visits, please,” Barba said to Carmen. She nodded, and he closed the door, throwing the lock. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance for you?”

Devon turned to shoot him a glare, but in this state, it fell flat. “If you ask me that one more time, you’re going to be the one who needs the ambulance.”

Barba would have laughed at that, but he was too worried about her to manage it. He went over to the little water cooler he had put in—sometimes he needed something besides coffee, only sometimes—and filled a cup. He forced it into Devon’s hand, the left one, the uninjured one. She drank the whole thing gratefully, and he went to refill it.

While he did, she shrugged out of his coat, grimacing at the motion. “Thank god I brought an extra shirt. Though, I don’t think I can put it on,” she chuckled softly, then winced as her mirth cause her body to shake her shoulder painfully. Oh, this was going to suck.

Barba handed her the second glass of water then said, voice barely above a whisper, “I can help…if you want, of course.” She sipped at the water this time rather than chugging it, shocked that he’d offer. Normally, she wouldn’t care if someone she counted as a friend helped her put on a shirt while she was injured. And she did count Barba as a friend. But the conversation with Amaro and Rollins came flooding back, making her hesitate. Did he think of her as a friend?

“Go for it,” she replied drily, trying to play it off as nothing. As if it were just another work thing. As if she didn’t care. Barba nodded, going to where her bag was on one of the chairs, digging through it until her found the extra shirt she had packed that morning. Grabbing it, he came back over to her. Devon moved to sit on the arm of the couch, feet on the cushions. He sucked in a breath as he stood behind her, preparing himself for what he was about to do; he’d never helped dress someone before…well, besides maybe shoving discarded clothes into someone’s arms after a night together. He was glad that her back was to him, that she couldn’t see the blush on his face. Devon grabbed the hem of her shirt and raised it as high as her hurt arm allowed. Gently, he unstuck her shirt from her shoulder—it was still caked in dried blood—and pulled it off of her, left arm first, then over her head, then off her right arm.

He found himself caught staring at the patch of gauze, stark white against Devon’s otherwise tan skin. There was a little bit of red, only a little, to show that some blood had seeped into the material but had since stopped. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to check; he knew that the EMTs already did, but deep down, he had to know for himself, what he had narrowly avoided. And how much she was now hurt because of him. This was all his fault, he knew; if he had warned her, if he made them go to his office instead of out in the wide open, if he didn’t have a target on himself, then Devon would be fine. She would be enjoying her time off after three years of whatever hell she had endured in California.

His gaze wandered from the patch on her shoulder to the rest of her broad back, starting with her other shoulder, than travelling down her spine, then resting on where the waistband of her slacks rested on her hips. She was littered with scars, most of them thin lines of white, but others that were longer, thicker, some that were straight, some curved. One of them even looked like a bullet hole down by her hip. Barba fought the urge to trace the markings along her back, wondering how she had gotten them all.

Devon had winced as Barba removed the ruined shirt from her—a part of her was shocked with how gentle he could be. But she resolved not to make a noise; she didn’t want to seem weak to him, to seem too injured. Besides, sitting and drinking water was already helping her wooziness and nausea, though she knew that she needed food. After what seemed like forever of him being silent behind her, she cleared her throat.

“Sorry,” Barba murmured, shaking himself, ripping his eyes away from a particularly long, thin scar across her spine. He moved to scrunch the shirt up to the right sleeve, slipping that over her injured arm, before helping it over her head and other arm. She fixed the hem while he checked her glass of water, which was still half-full, before sitting at his desk. He pulled out his phone and called in an order from his favorite Chinese place—he already knew Devon’s order after spending this much time together. While he was doing that, Devon felt like she should warn Olivia about the encounter. Devon knew it would get back to her eventually, better to get in front of it.

Just so you know, I was able to subdue and arrest two Aces in front of the DA’s Building

Olivia wrote back immediately. Good work. Is Barba okay?

All business with her, like usual. He’s fine, no injuries. I’m sure it’s already viral

There was silence for a couple minutes before her phone lit up. YOU WERE STABBED? Are you alright? Are you at the hospital? Is Barba with you? Devon laughed, knowing Liv must have seen one of the many, shitty phone videos of the attack.

I’m fine; Barba and I are safe in his office, ordering lunch. An EMT stitched me up; no worries. I’ll call you tonight with more details.

Devon put her phone away before she could see Liv’s reply; she didn’t have the strength to fight off both Barba and Olivia worrying about her health. Barba hung up shortly afterwards.

“Thank you, by the way. That’s twice now that you’ve saved my life,” Barba said.

Devon waved him off. “All in a day’s work,” she smiled, then grimaced in pain.

It looked like he was going to ask if she was alright again but thought better of it when he saw the glare she shot him. He instead changed the subject. “How did you throw your knife so accurately?”

She grinned at some inside joke, then answered almost sheepishly, “many, many years of practice. I’m still practicing.”

Barba looked impressed. “It was pretty amazing to watch. It was like something in a James Bond movie; I never thought I’d see something like that in real life, with my own eyes.”

Devon smirked to herself; the fact that Barba even watched James Bond was weirdly funny to her. “Wanna know something stupid?” Barba perked up. “I started teaching myself to throw knives when I was 13, because I thought it would make me look cool. Then, when I joined the Bureau, I thought that it was a great skill to master. So, I could be a cool, super-agent like some shitty action movie.”

“You’re right; that is stupid,” Barba replied. A beat of silence, then they were both laughing, at least until Devon’s laugh turned into a groan and she grabbed her shoulder. Barba went straight into worried again, launching out of his chair. He made it halfway around the desk before Devon waved him off.

Once the pain subsided, Devon said, “well, it may be stupid, but it has come in handy plenty of times. I think that it’s the element of surprise; no one actually predicts someone to throw a knife at them. Not in real life, and not accurately.”

At that moment, food had arrived. Devon still didn’t know how Barba got lunch delivered so quickly, and he refused to give away his secret. They both hungrily scarfed down most of their food before a thought occurred to Devon, something that she should have asked the day she took this job.

“Do you know how to defend yourself? In anyway besides that mouth of yours?”

Barba finished chewing and swallowed. “I think the last fight I was in was when I was 15. And it wasn’t really a fight. It was more a kid beating me up until my friend chased them off.”

“So, no. Awesome. We’re going to fix that, starting tonight.”

“Tonight? Did you forget that you were stabbed today? You are going to take it easy tonight.”

Devon shot an annoyed look at him. “Is Mr. Never-been-in-a-real-fight trying to boss me around?”

Barba shot a glare right back. If looks could kill, then Barba would at least have some sort of self-defense training. “Damn straight I am. Early night tonight, and you’re going to sleep in a bed. That couch cannot be comfortable.”

“Oh-ho, really? You’re not the only one who relies on spite, Barbs. Besides, injured shoulder or not, I could still kick your ass. And the couch is fine.”

Barba was taken aback by that; not so much the threat, but what she had called him. Barbs. As far as he knew, she didn’t call anyone by a nickname, except for Fin and Liv. And anyone who called Fin by his full name was either not a friend or would not be around long.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. But I’d feel better if you were at 100% before hurting yourself on me,” he looked at her over his takeout box, “and yes, the bed. This isn’t a negotiation.”

“And I’d feel better if you knew at least basic self-defense,” she countered, “and you’re right; this isn’t a negotiation. I will sleep where I want.” Stalemate, how most of their arguments ended. She knew he was done talking about it as he rolled his eyes and stabbed what remained of his lunch.

The rest of the day went normally, or as normally as it could; Barba only had the arraignments in the morning, so they hadn’t left his office until 5pm on the dot. Early night indeed. Devon still went through the motions of checking the hallways as they left, keeping Barba behind her, even though he was pretty sure she couldn’t do much in way of protection, though Devon disagreed (“I only need one working arm to use a gun, Barbs”). They met no resistance and made it to the street. They hailed a cab—the detectives were in a flurry after the attack today--and made it to the loft promptly.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Tuesday, March 17th. 5:42pm

Devon still insisted on Barba placing his hand on her back as she cleared each room. He tried to touch her gently, keeping to her left. Devon thought it was sweet, but she was getting a little annoyed by the kid-gloves he was treating her with.

Once the nightly routine was done, Devon said, “you know I’m still teaching you some self-defense tonight, right?” Barba started to argue, but she overrode him, “nothing too physical. More positions and motions tonight. We can practice them in full when the stitches come out. Deal?”

He huffed; there really was no way to win an argument with her, was there? He may be a successful lawyer, but he could not outtalk the agent when she had her mind set. Stubborn, like him. “Deal,” he replied begrudgingly. They moved the furniture to the walls, giving them enough room to move comfortably. Barba discarded his suit jacket and tie, rolling up his shirtsleeves to the elbow. Devon shed his winter jacket—he let her wear it again for the ride home—and gun, placing them on the table. She then went through the most basic ways to break someone’s hold, whether they were grabbing an arm, a wrist, or the torso from behind. Surprisingly, Barba picked it up quickly. He had some muscle despite being an attorney.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he said when she commented on it.

“That’s a good thing, promise,” she laughed. Her shoulder was hurting, but it was more of a dull thrum in the back of her mind. Plus, she knew if she mentioned it, or winced at all, that he would call the exercise to and end, and she didn’t want to stop this night yet. She was enjoying teaching him something, his eyes bright with focus, and then watching him recreate the steps. Maybe she’d retire and teach self-defense classes one day, if she was lucky enough to have the chance to retire. “Last one for the night, then we can stop.” Barba nodded and she taught him how to flip a person that grabs him from behind over his shoulder, then mount them, ready to attack the face and chest of his attacker. Simple.

“We’re not going to actually flip each other,” Devon said when Barba started to protest.

“Better not,” he replied. “Now show me the steps again.”

At this point, Devon had almost completely forgotten about the pain in her shoulder; it was a constant throb, but it blended into the background as she focused on the steps. She grabbed Barba by the arm gently as she demonstrated, without actually throwing him, what to do slowly. Barba found that he enjoyed having her teach him things, especially if it meant that she could ease up on her vigilance. It was also a plus that she was touching him, not in a sexual way, but her strong hands on his sweaty skin was enough to make his heart beat faster. He could feel the strength in her powerful form; her hands, arms, back, legs. Every bit of her was muscle.

“May I flip you over my uninjured shoulder? I’ll put the sofa cushions down first. You’ll be safe, I promise,” Devon asked. “But it’s important to teach you how to go from leaning over a prone attacker to on top of them.”

Barba sighed and reluctantly agreed. She always got what she wanted. “But only if you use your left.” Devon nodded and they both stripped the couch of cushions. Barba felt nervous as he stepped up behind her. The thought of flying through the air was exhilarating, but not something that Barba ever thought he’d be doing on a weekday evening in his loft with an FBI agent. He forced himself to breath, to keep his eyes open so that he could pay attention, as he wrapped his arms around Devon’s torso. She pretended to elbow him in the gut, like she showed him, and he let go. She then grabbed him by the arm and threw him over her left shoulder. His world spun until he landed flat on his back, Devon didn’t move, waiting for him to lock eyes with her.

“You okay?” she asked.

He grinned back up at her, feeling oddly alive. “Never better,” he parroted her words from earlier back to her. She smiled back, then went through the next steps slowly, narrating as she went, until she was straddling his hips, knees pinning his hands into the cushions by his sides, hands raised as if she were going to punch him in the face. He fought to keep the blush from creeping up his neck, hoping that Devon would attribute his red face to how hot he was from the workout.

“Got it?”

“I think so.”

She got off him, held out her hand. He took it and she helped him up.

“Now it’s your turn,” she announced. The thought of him straddling her was enough to get the blush to fully infiltrate his face. He turned away, nodding as he did, hoping that she would miss the redness creeping around his ears and neck. Instead, he stood at the cushions, facing away from her.

Devon came up behind Barba and wrapped her arms around his torso. She smelled his cologne, mixing with his sweat, and felt his rapid breathing against her body through his back, matching her own breathing. She hoped he couldn’t feel her heart fluttering in her chest. They’d been doing this for a couple hours and were both slightly out of breath. Bracing herself, she tightened her arms, signaling the start of the exercise. Barba positioned his feet the way she showed him, fake hit her, and bent forward. Devon felt weightless as she was thrown over his shoulder, then slammed into the cushions. Pain shot through her shoulder and she whimpered in pain. Barba, though, was already following the motions that she had shown him, straddling her hips, fist raised above her head in mock-fight. It took him a moment to recognize the pain in her face, to realize what he had done.

“Ah mierda, estas bien? (Holy shit, are you okay?) Did I hurt you?” he asked, dropping his hand from fist to cupping her cheek, searching her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she breathed, heart fluttering and not entirely from pain. Barba leaned down closer, scanning her face for any sign of a lie. “Good form.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Both of them whipped their heads to look at the door. “You expecting company?” Devon asked. Barba shook his head, then scrambled off of her. Devon pushed herself off the floor with her left arm—her right buckled in pain when she put pressure on it--grabbed her discarded gun and aimed it at the door. She moved slowly, carefully, towards the door. Another round of knocking rang out.

“Dev? Barba? It’s Olivia,” Liv’s voice called through the door. Breathing a sigh of relief, Devon made it to the door and looked out the eyehole; it was indeed Liv. Not taking any chances, Devon kept the gun aimed as she unlocked the door. She motioned for Barba to stay put, well away and out of line of sight of the door. Devon opened the door, pushed past the shocked Olivia—she did have a gun in her face when the door opened—and checked the hallways.

“Clear,” she called out, beckoning Liv inside.

Once the door was closed and relocked, Liv took in the pushed aside furniture and cushions on the ground, before asking, “what happened today? Are you alright?”

Devon spent the next couple minutes going over the ordeal from that morning, Barba interjecting a couple of times with his point of view, but otherwise staying silent. Devon then spent the next half hour convincing Liv that: yes she was okay, no she didn’t need to go to the hospital, yes she could still protect Barba, no she didn’t need backup. Barba had surprisingly backed her up, saying that she seemed completely capable. Devon was slightly touched at the gesture, her heart clenching with his support.

Olivia sighed. “Well, the other reason I wanted to stop by was to give you an update on our side. The NYPD have collectively caught another 8 Aces, putting the total at 21 incarcerated. If that number of 65 gang members is accurate, then there’s only 44 left.”

“Only 44?” Barba commented, incredulous.

“Better than 65, yeah?” Devon shot back. Barba rolled his eyes but didn’t answer. She did have a point; 44 was less than 65. But 44 people with the potential to kill him left a twisting feeling in his gut that he fought to ignore.

Liv nodded. “We have patrols working around the clock to pick up members. But they know we’re on them; a lot of them have gone into hiding. And those videos of you taking down two of them in front of the DA Building isn’t doing us any favors.

Devon shrugged. “As Munch would say, good ol’ Big Brother looking out for the gang members in that sense.” They talked for a few more minutes about a couple of known hideouts before Olivia excused herself. Devon locked the door after she had left and stretched. Once her right arm was level with her head, she grimaced and dropped it.

Barba was instantly by her side. “Let me see it; I may have pulled the stitches when I flipped you.” Devon didn’t object as he pulled back her shirt, being even more gentle than when he examined her in his office. “Can I take the gauze off? The EMT said that we should change it out tonight.”

“Let’s get the replacement ready, first,” Devon replied. As Barba went to grab gauze from her grip, she struggled to get out of her shirt.

Gauze in hand, Barba looked up to see her struggling to get her shirt over her head. They locked eyes for the briefest moment before Barba quickly adverted his eyes, cheeks turning red.

“Oh, stop playing choir boy and come help me,” Devon huffed, hiding her own face in the fabric of the shirt she was tangled in. Barba made his way over, his ears turning bright red. He grasped the cloth and gently pulled it up and over her head. He discarded it on the back of the armchair, moving to stand behind her once more. He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed by this—he helped her change earlier today. And while he was struggling with his emotions then, too, this seemed more…intimate. Maybe it was because Devon was essentially stripping in his living room rather than his office. Either way, he needed to get his mind out of his pants. Though, his eyes still got pulled from the white patch of gauze to the scars painting her back. Unlike in his office, Barba wasn’t able to stop himself from touching the longest scar on her back, his fingertip ghosting over the white line that stretched from just under her left shoulder blade and leading to under the gauze. Goosebumps sprung up under his finger, and Devon’s breathing hitched.

“What caused this?” Barba breathed, voice barely a whisper. He wasn’t actually expecting an answer, so he was shocked when Devon cleared her throat.

“I believe that one was a leather belt,” Devon muttered. They sat in silence, Devon unwilling to continue, and Barba unwilling to ask for more. Instead, he set about changing the gauze, questions swirling in his mind…though, he was pretty sure he was starting to get an answer.

He slowly pulled off the old gauze on her shoulder. The stitches were still intact, and there was no new blood on or around the wound. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. How could he be so stupid? He knew she was injured, fought against training tonight. But still, he lost focus, he let her call the shots, and it got her hurt. He chastised himself for hurting her; she saves his life, takes a goddamn knife for him, and he slams her onto the ground. If he hadn’t distracted her this morning, if he hadn’t relaxed his guard, then maybe—

“You alright back there?” she asked, pulling him out of his self-hating spiral. He gently placed the new gauze over the wound, pushing it down against her warm skin. Devon sucked in a breath through her teeth, straightening her back at the pain.

“Let me get you an ice pack,” he said over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen. He needed a moment to collect himself, to get away from the heat in the room, and to also let her get dressed...if she could on her own. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the blood rushing through him, and grabbed the ice pack from the freezer before coming back out to her. She had, thankfully, got into her oversized, pajama shirt by herself.

“Sit,” he ordered. Devon obeyed, sitting in the armchair. Barba had her lean forward, then placed the ice pack between the chair and her shoulder—she jumped at the coolness seeping through her new shirt and gauze--and ordered her to lean back into the chair, holding it in place. She relaxed into the chair, eyes closed at the comfort she felt almost immediately; she hadn’t noticed how hot her skin was in that area...compared to the rest of her that was on fire from his touch. Barba sat on the arm of the loveseat and watched her face. All the tension left her features, making her look younger. He never noticed how much stress she had around her eyes until this moment, something that he noticed with others in this line of work. He was shocked he hadn’t noticed until now, when she was relaxed; her attitude, her…liveliness often exuded off her, making her seem much more jovial than the stress on her face showed. He suddenly wondered how much hardship she had gone through in her life, as an agent and otherwise.

Devon sat like that for a couple moments, and Barba felt like he could stare at her in comfort forever. Memories came flooding back to him; that first night when they sat so close to each other on the armchair, her smile and perky “good morning~!” every day, her eyes and body language when she was alert—dangerous, protective—Amaro and Rollins having their fantasies about why they were late, him straddling her in his living room, hand cupping her face as he made sure she was alright. The scars covering her back like a living tattoo proving that she had lived a full, hard life, yet still found a way to smile.

Oh…he thought before he mentally shook himself; he would not allow those feelings to manifest. He’d learned long ago that that path wasn’t a viable option, that it was his lot in life to be alone, and he’d be damned if his resolve would break after only a couple months with this woman. So, he locked away those memories and feelings, shoving them in a tight little metal box in his heart and throwing away the key.

“I’m fine, really,” Devon finally said, opening her eyes. She looked at Barba, found him staring at her, eyes boring into hers. “That was just a stupid mistake; I got carried away in our training. I’m sorry to put you in that situation.”

“It’s my fault; I knew that you were hurt, and I still went along with it.”

Devon chuckled. “We’re going to get nowhere in a conversation if we keep hogging the blame and self-deprecation. Let’s just say that mistakes were made and leave it at that.”

Barba agreed verbally, but he didn’t really believe it. He knew better, needed to be better. After waiting the allotted 30 minutes that the EMT advised, Barba stood, taking the icepack from her and returning it to the freezer. “We should both go to bed,” he said.

Devon nodded, moving to the loveseat. She knew that she’d be up for a couple more hours doing work, but she couldn’t tell him that. She learned early on that he’d get annoyed if she stayed up half the night working—whether it was a worry about her not being alert the next day, or just a concern for her sleeping habits, she didn’t know--but she just couldn’t force herself to go to sleep. She couldn’t turn her mind off. It was hard enough to sleep at night as it was, and with the attack that happened earlier, tonight was going to be even harder.

“You’re sleeping in the bed tonight, remember? I’ll take the couch,” Barba reminded her.

Devon chuckled and made a big show of stretching out on the couch. “It’s so funny when you think you can order me around.”

Barba gave her a look. “You order me around all the time.”

“And you obey, like, 60% of the time. I appreciate that. Now, off to bed with you,” she gave him a little wave towards the hallway, dismissing him.

He shook his head in disbelief. This woman really knew how to push his buttons. “I’m serious; this couch isn’t good for you. You’re injured.”

Devon pretended to be deep in thought, finger on her chin, before saying, “nah, I like the couch. Goodnight, Barbs.”

This was getting him nowhere; if she wanted to sleep here, then fine. He tried to be polite, gentlemanly, but if chivalry really was dead, then she’s the one who killed it. As he started making his way down the hallway, he stopped, looking over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “Barbs?”

“It’s quicker than saying Barba; only one syllable. Does it bother you?”

He could tell by her tone that she did actually care if it bothered him; if he said yes, then he knew she’d never use it again. But, if truth be told, he rather liked it; a name for him that only she used. It was kind of…cute, in a way. “It’s fine,” he replied, turning back to his bedroom door, a small smile on his lips.

Once he was closed off in his room, Devon pulled out her laptop. She started in on her daily report for Liv, but soon enough, her mind started to wander. She learned something new tonight, something that she didn’t want to admit to herself. But she knew that now, while alone, was the best time to go through it; she had to take the thought out, examine it, understand it, and then lock it away.

She couldn’t deny the feelings and thoughts that she had when Barba had straddled her, or when he touched her back, feelings that had appeared briefly that morning in his office, while he helped her change shirts. The heat that had flooded her face, among other places. And sure, pain was one of those feelings as well, but even that went away when he had cupped her face, had looked at her with such concern in his bright green eyes. It was as if time had stopped; she didn’t even hear what he said to her, though his mouth was moving. That was the moment she had noticed; she had feelings for him. How the hell that had happened, she wasn’t quite sure. Now sitting and thinking about it, she realized that she liked quite a bit about him. She liked how he dressed, his smell, his vocabulary, how he worked, his mannerisms and little quirks. She liked that he tapped his pen when deep in thought. She liked that he mumbled to himself while doing paperwork. She liked how his eyes lit up when he was focused, or when he thought of the perfect argument for a case. She liked the brief, accidental touches, just a brush of a hand, when they were both working on his desk. And the longer, less accidental touches, like when she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the coffee stand, or when they smushed too close in the crowded elevator, his cologne strong in her nose. Maybe it was because she had never spent this long living with someone before. Maybe it was because the past three years have left her emotionally drained, vulnerable. In any case, there was no chance of…whatever they could be from happening. 1) She had a strict no-dating rule with victims, whether he played a victim or not. And 2) she didn’t “do” relationships. She didn’t have the time, energy, or patience to dedicate herself to someone else. Sure, she had taken out some stress in someone’s bed before, but she never had repeats—one and done was her motto. She refused to let someone have that part of her; she kept her heart locked in a stronghold. So, how in the hell did Rafael Barba make his way through the drawbridge when she had thought it was up?

#everyone deserves love #edl #edl ch 5 #everyone deserves love chapter 5 #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #rafael barba x oc #fanfic #my writing #amaro and rollins totes gossip #all the time #about everyone

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shyvioletcat · 6 years ago

Note

For the firefighter au, Aelin notices Rowan's back is bothering him from sleeping on the couch and offers to let him sleep in the bed! 😉

First of all, a short letter

Dear Anon, Thank you for submitting this. I had been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to get to this point and you paved the way. So who ever you are, thank you. You’ve done me a great service.

Secondly, @highqueenofelfhame and @galyxsy this is for you guys. Hope it makes you smile. Also for you @tangledraysofsunshine. You know why.

Masterlist

~~~~~

Rowan was definitely miserable.

Aelin had noticed that his back had been progressively getting worse the longer he slept on her couch. She remember the conversation they’d had two nights ago about his fitness test coming up and she was feeling guiltier as the days went on. There was still a week and a half until the landlord got back and from Rowan’s foul mood it seemed like he hadn’t been able to move the date of the test. He’d been sullen each night when he trudged into he apartment, practically slamming the lock into place.

Tonight was no exception. He came through the door already dressed in his pyjamas, blanket and pillow in hand. Aelin watched from where she was eating a slice of chocolate cake at the kitchen counter. There was a hobble to his walk, just ever so slight, but Aelin picked up on it. She couldn’t help flinching as he continued his routine by slamming the door and sliding the lock into place.

“Hello sunshine,” Aelin called. Rowan didn’t answer just threw his bedding onto the couch. “Look at you, such a joy to have in my home.”

“Not now Aelin,” Rowan grumbled as he sat down.

Aelin wasn’t letting up. “I said you can go home Rowan.”

“Not happening,” Rowan bit out.

“If you lose your job just from being a stubborn –”

“I won’t lose my job!” Rowan said he stood and whirled to face Aelin. “I’ll just get demoted. I’m 2IC at the station so if I perform badly I’ll just lose that, not my job entirely. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Aelin retorted back.

Rowan ran his hands through his hair, a habit Aelin noted he did when he was frustrated or nervous.

“What’s not fine is that I was an idiot who broke down your door and did a half-assed job of fixing it. What’s not fine is that my half-assed job left you in danger and someone broke into your house and you could have been hurt.”

Aelin was a little taken aback by not just his words but how distressed Rowan was while he spoke them. She hadn’t realised he had actually cared that much.

Aelin crossed her arms over her chest, “You saw that I could handle myself.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to,” Rowan sat down again and Aelin heard him audibly wince.

Aelin made the decision right then. She walked over to where Rowan sat and stood in front of him, hands on her hips.

“Alright, if you’re going to be a stubborn bastard here’s the deal. You sleep in my bed to save your precious body for your precious job.”

Rowan looked up her, surprise written all over his face. “And you sleep on the couch? No way.”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Aelin said simply and couldn’t help the smirk that spread across her lips at the slight flush that crept over Rowan’s face.

“I… What?” He stammered.

“We’ll both be comfortable and refreshed for work. It’s a king sized bed, you won’t even have to touch me,” Aelin explained. “We’re both adults. I’m sure we can manage sleeping in the same bed without any trouble.”

Now Rowan rubbed at his face. Debating if he should do as she said.

“Look, you’ve got your blankets and pillow. I’ll sleep under mine, you put yours on top. Ta-da we’re not even under the same bedding, keeping our virtues intact,” Aelin waved a dismissive hand.

Rowan still didn’t say anything.

“Well, I’m going to bed. Feel free to join me.”

Aelin went to the kitchen and finished the last few bites of her cake before putting the plate in the sink. She didn’t even look at Rowan as she then went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. But she did look at him when on her way to her bedroom though. All she could see of Rowan was he feet propped up on the arm of the lounge as he lay down.

“Suit yourself,” Aelin said and went into her bedroom.

Rowan didn’t want to know how long he’d been lying there on the couch going over what Aelin had offered. It made sense. They both had jobs they needed to be their best for. And they were both adults, not hormone fuelled teenagers. There was no reasons for him not to.

With a sigh Rowan threw off his blankets and bundled them up, and then grabbed his pillow. Aelin had graciously left the door ajar and Rowan pushed the door open with his foot.

Aelin lay under only a sheet, her golden hair loose and catching the faint moonlight shining through the window. She wore a silky nightgown of midnight blue and the strap had slipped off her shoulder, making the neckline drop dangerously low. Rowan closed his eyes reminding himself that he was not a hormone fuelled teenage boy and no matter how alluring and beautiful Aelin was he could do this without complicating the situation with… feelings.

Maybe this was the one reason he shouldn’t do this. Bed sharing felt too intimate, too close. Just over a week ago the’d been ready to rip each other’s throats out. They’d come to to some sort of truce since the break in, but they still weren’t friends he supposed. More like unwilling allies. Maybe that was his protection in this situation. Their indifference.

Rowan bit the bullet. He pulled off the pillow from the left side of the bed and replaced it with his own. Then lying on top of Aelin’s bedding he arranged his blanket over him and laid back. This bed sharing, it was nothing. It was a means to an end. Rowan would be able to keep his position and once that was sorted he’d be back on the couch until the landlord got back. Holding onto that thought Rowan drifted into sleep.

Aelin woke up to a heavy weight draped across her waist. She blinked her eyes as she tried to figure out what the weight was. As she rolled over she startled at the sight of Rowan asleep beside her.

It was his arm across her waist.

She looked at him, his face looked softer, younger, in sleep. It made him look heartbreakingly handsome. Knowing he’d be mortified if Rowan woke up to find he’d cuddled up to her in his sleep Aelin slipped out of bed a smoothly as she could, letting him arm fall softly on the bed.

Aelin looked at him again and Rowan sighed heavily, as though he was subconsciously missing the contact of her body. A small smile worked its way onto Aelin’s lips. Maybe she could get used to waking up next to a handsome man, even if was just to take in his handsomeness while he slept. Aelin laughed at herself and decided to make breakfast before she turned into a full blown creep.

~~~~~

Tags: @tangledraysofsunshine @nalgenewhore @fucking-winchester-trash @literary-licorice @http-itsrebecca @highladyofthesith @aelinfire-bringer @soup-that-is-too-hawt @sleep-and-books @3am-reading @average-girl-at-best @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius @rowaelinforeverworld @alifletcher2012 @westofmoon @tswaney17 @mydarlingfireheart @rowansfirebringer

#AND THE THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED #we got there guys #striking matches #firefighter au #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction

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themomsandthecity · 2 years ago

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Seth Rogen Gets Candid About Not Wanting Kids

Seth Rogen is challenging the notion that married couples should want kids. The actor has been happily married to Lauren Miller since 2011, and during a March 5 episode of the "Diary of a CEO" podcast, Rogen was met with a question often asked of married people, particularly women: why don't you want kids? During a discussion about his success as an actor and filmmaker, Rogen noted that that not having children played a role in helping him realize his goals. When asked if having children would make him happier, Rogen was candid. "I don't think it would," Rogen responded. "I've been around, obviously, a lot of children. I'm not ignorant to what it's like. Everyone I know has kids. I'm 40. I know. Some of my friends have had kids for decades. Some people want kids, some people don't want kids." "The older we get, the more happy and reaffirmed we are with our choice to not have kids." Since tying the knot, Miller and Rogen have only become more sure of their decision to remain child-free. "I mean, a lot of people have kids before they even think about it from what I've seen, honestly," he said. "You just are told, 'You go through life, you get married, you have kids' - it's what happens. Me and my wife, neither of us were like that. Honestly, the older we get, the more happy and reaffirmed we are with our choice to not have kids." For the couple, the freedom that comes with having only each other to worry about is invaluable. "We are in the prime of our lives," Rogen pointed out. "We are smarter than we've ever been. We understand ourselves more than we ever have. We have the capacity to achieve a level of work and a level of communication and care for one another, and a lifestyle we can live with one another that we've never been able to live before. And we can just do that, and we don't have to raise a child - which the world does not need right now." Image Source: Getty / Matt Winkelmeyer / FilmMagic Rogen's quotes prompted listeners to realize how rare it is for men to be questioned about not wanting children. Women who express no interest in motherhood are often met with harsh criticism and invasive questioning that forces them to publicly justify what is, in reality, a deeply personal decision. In the comments section of Rogen's interview, listeners supported the star's decision to speak out. "Very refreshing to hear someone vocalize, without shame or expectations from society, that they don't want to have kids and are happy with their choice," one commenter wrote. For Rogen and Miller, not having children is something they've always agreed on: in an August 2018 interview on Dax Shepard's "Armchair Expert" podcast, Rogen explained that, while he feels he'd make a good father, he is perfectly happy without children. "A lot of people [try to convince us to have kids] because they seem to like their kids," he said. "People get joy from it, and they feel as though I don't have that joy. I appreciate that. I'm pretty at peace." Speaking on "The Howard Stern Show" in May 2021, Rogen said that not having kids gives him the freedom to focus fully on his work, bringing him a level of joy he compares to that felt by people with children. "I don't know anyone who gets as much happiness out of their kids as we get out of our non-kids," Rogen said. "Like, we're f*cking psyched all the time! We're laying in bed on Saturday mornings, smoking weed, watching movies naked. If we had kids, we could not be f*cking doing this." Related: Da Brat Announces Pregnancy, Says She Didn't Think It Was "in the Cards" at 48 https://www.popsugar.com/family/seth-rogen-not-having-kids-49110520?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

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maxxfabray · 4 years ago

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First Date | Harry + Max

Who: Maxine Fabray + Harry Potter ( @drharrypotter )

When: Friday 12.4.20

What: Harry & Max go on their first date.

Max

Max couldn't remember the last time she went on an actual date. It was usually drinks and sex. Or going out and... sex. It was part of her routine when it came to interactions with others. So getting to dress up and go out to dinner with Harry, she jumped at the chance, even buying a red dress, just as the professor requested, and really made herself irresistible by the time he picked her up. "You look spiffy," she commented, running her hand over his chest as she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. This was an official date so she didn't have to refrain from more intimate touches if she didn't want to.

Harry

It had been a long time since Harry had met anyone he'd actually asked on a date, while he'd been writing the book his entire focus had been on getting it published and making sure that it was good enough. And before then, well he'd just wanted to make sure he was making enough for his family. Max was like the most refreshing and unexpected surprise in his life, she was beautiful and a little worrying at times but he always found himself thinking about her. He smiled at her when she arrived, god she was beautiful. "The lady in red." He teased lightly. "You look even more gorgeous than I thought you would." A light blush forming when she kissed his cheek.

Max

Receiving compliments was something Max was a pro at, but coming from Harry made her feel some kind of way that she couldn't explain. Plus there was the way he looked at her that made her stomach flip. So she just smiled in response, backing up and doing a small spin to show off her whole body in the stunning dress she was proud of. "I did this all for you, Sir," she confirmed, pulling her curled hair over one shoulder, then grabbing her small silver clutch that matched her heels. "Ready when you are. She wrapped her arm around his. "I suppose tonight is going to be your treat as well?" She asked with a smirk.

Harry

His soft smile became something akin to an embarrassed grin when she said she had done it all for him. Giving her a small whistle as she twirled. “Well I’ll try very hard to deserve the effort. Though it’ll be a tall order when you look like that.” He told her, and then started leading her towards his car. “Naturally. A gentleman never lets a lady pay on the first date. My Ma would immigrate to Florida just to drown me in the ocean.” He laughed easily.

Max

Max smiled at the mention of his mom. She normally didn't pay much attention to what other people said, but she remembered this being the second time he mentioned his mom. "You're really close to your mom, huh?" She asked with small smile. She wondered what it was like growing up with normal families and having normal mothers. "I promise I'll let you do all of the gentleman things tonight then," Max couldn't have timed it better herself. "And that includes opening all doors and pulling out all chairs." It was exactly the kind of behavior that was expected in the circles she grew up in, so all was good there.

Harry

Harry shrugged, it was odd to think that nobody knew about him or all of his siblings here that he had a separate identity when back home everything that he was attached to them. “I’ve got a big family, and I’m the oldest so I’ve always tried to help my Ma out.” He explained. “So she’s sort of like my best friend as well as my Ma.” The Irishman said with a smile. “Of course, you can’t sit down if I don’t make sure the chair doesn’t have a pine come on or something.” Harry joked lightly trying to show that he wasn’t always serious. However when they reached his car he did open the passenger door for her.December 7, 2020

Max

"I've got pretty big family too," Max added. "But I'm pretty sure that's the only thing our families have in common. Your mom sounds sweet though." Max shrugged, not really caring to continue the conversation about her family. Some of the things he said were odd, but she was sure the same could be said about herself. "Or you were just taught to be a gentleman, which is cool." She slipped into the car once he opened the door and took a moment to scroll through her phone while he climbed in on the other side. Taking a selfie or two for her social media. When he was situated, she leaned over, pressing her head onto his shoulder and holding her phone up on the camera screen. "Smile."

Harry

“Oh yeah, you Fabray sisters are pretty famous with the faculty.” The irishman told her honestly. “A quartet of blondes.” He teased just a little. “Are you close with your sisters?” He asked her, hoping that the question wasn’t an uncomfortable one. He got into his side of the car and was a little surprised when she put the phone up. But he gave her a smile all the same, not minding humouring her even though he usually hated having his picture taken. “Gonna put that in your burn book?” He asked, as he started the car.

Max

"Are we?" Max asked with an arched eyebrow. It amused her and she honestly was used to attention being on her and her sisters. Especially back in Connecticut. At his question, she shook her head and scrunched her face. "I'm fairly close to my sister Jo, but as for the other two not really." It was hard to be close to your sisters when you were always competing for your parents' love and affection. "I think it's cute that you know what a burn book is. No, this is going to be be posted on Instagram. First date vibes." She showed him the finished product with the caption and dropped her phone onto her lap. Max planned on takin advantage of him spoiling her for the night and waited for him to come around and open the door for her. It was a bit ridiculous, but Harry seemed more than happy to do it. "Are you one of those Dominants who like ordering for their dates?"

Harry

“Yeah for sure, I mean maybe I hear it more often because I’ve been guilty of bringing you up.” Harry shrugged with a slightly guilty smile. “That’s fair enough, I wouldn’t say I’m that close to all of my siblings either.. though there are thirteen of us all together and I’m old enough to be a fair few of thems Da.” He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had any first date vibes posted on Instagram. So thanks.” Harry smiled, parking and then coming around to let her out. “I can be, I’m not forceful about it. Especially on a first date, wouldn’t want you to be stuck with something shit just so I can feel like a big man. Are you a switch who enjoys that?” He countered, he didn’t know all that much about her in a D/s sense and he was keen to do that too.

Max

At this point, Max could not contain the smile that followed his words. "You've brought me up with the rest of the faculty?" She asked, leaning over the table to run a finger over his hand. "You really must like me." She bit at her bottom lip, getting lost in his accent as he talked about his family. She couldn't imagine having that many siblings. Her parents would have gone even more crazy than they already did trying to keep all of them in line. They didn't even manage that with 6 kids. She licked her lips and closed the menu, sliding it back. "I'm a Switch who enjoys submission just as much as I enjoy domming. And I'm curious to see what you would get me. I don't have any restrictions, so go wild, Sir." She paused and tapped her chin. "Oh, but make sure the wine is red."

Harry

“Well could you really expect me not to?” He asked. “You showed up at my office like a hurricane, I had to know more. Then you lured me out with sweets you didn’t have by the way. You fascinate me.” He teased, though she was right he did really like her. He was secretly pleased that she wouldn’t mind him ordering for her. Harry liked to Dom, but he didn’t want to be one of those guys who came on too strong especially when she was a student. Didn’t want to get thought of as weird. He browsed the menu. “Well I know it can’t be boring, so none of the ‘classics’ and you always order white wine with fish so that rules that out. I think we’ll both get the house special, glass of red for you and a beer for me.”

Max

The way Harry talked about her really had her going. Like a hurricane. She’d been called that before but never in a way that made her smile the way she was currently smiling. “I do like to be fascinating.” She wasn’t sure how he was going to react to her willingness to take on a more submissive role and was pleased when he just went ahead and ordered for them both. When the waiter went off to get their food, Max leaned in a bit. “I think this is the portion of the date when we ask each other extremely personal questions, right? I’ll go first. How the hell are you single?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry

He laughed when she asked if it was time to ask personal questions, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked him anything about his private life. “I guess because I’m sort of boring? I spent most of my adult life writing a book that most people would consider deadly boring. And when I wasn’t doing that I was helping my Ma with my siblings.. it’s not exactly sexy. Plus I never went to one of these finishing schools, I just went to the library and sort of willed the hot girls to start lining up.” He joked awkwardly. “How about you? We’ve established your always the most interesting person in a room. Why are you single?”

Max

"And did the hot girls line up?" She asked with an amused grin. He was not the typical type of person that normally caught Max's attention but here she was, completely smitten. "Well, the thing about being the most interesting person in the room is I'm always on the go and hardly fully satisfied." Max shrugged, pausing so the waiter could pour her glass of wine. She smiled and immediately took a small sip. "I'm single because people lose patience with me quite early on. And I just move on to the next thing." She held up her glass when he got his beer. "A toast to our flaws that keep us single."

Harry

Harry laughed. "No, they did not. I think they were busy getting their own degrees and having a life." He shrugged, almost glad he'd never really met anyone until now because he couldn't imagine they'd measure up to Max Fabray. "You're right, how could the most interesting person in the room ever be satisfied by us mere mortals." Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, her next statement made his heart sink a little because he didn't see any way that it could really be true. Raising his glass he clinked it against hers. "Agreed... "

#harry potter #para: harry potter #para: first date #( you've got me entranced )

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withasmoothroundstone · 8 years ago

Video

youtube

[Lyrics at bottom of post, past all the footnotes.]

Before anything else, I have to say I love Susan Boyle’s singing. I saw an interview once where a guy who worked with her to record songs, said that he’s never really met someone like this before -- where basically, if she identifies with the characters the song, her singing is amazing, and if she can’t identify, she doesn’t sing well at all. Which is something that makes total sense to me.

It took me a long time to be able to watch or listen to her, though. I found other people’s reactions to her painfully familiar. I guess I identified with her too much. Both in watching how other people treated her and talked about her, and watching her trying to adjust to the new attention and publicity in her life. I was glad people were recognizing her talents, but I boiled over with rage at the fact that most of the people who put her on a pedestal now, would have continued making her the butt of every joke if they’d never realized how well she could sing. It’s like her singing skills made her human, and that made me beyond enraged.

Hearing stories of how even as an adult, little kids would find ways to poke fun at her in public, reminded me too much of my own life. Having recognition of my humanity depend entirely on recognition of my talents -- same. Watching her try and fail -- spectacularly and publicly at times -- to handle the ugly side of celebrity... I’ve never been and hope I never will be a true celebrity, but I’ve had my fifteen minutes of fame (which I only consented to because I thought it would get certain messages out there and was told hiding from all publicity might be selfish) and it was one of the most miserable experiences of my life. So there have been many times I’ve found it too acutely painful to follow her, because I could identify with too much of what I was hearing. It was like touching a raw nerve, I couldn’t handle it so I just looked away.

And also... and also. I recognized her the moment I first saw her. I recognized her as ‘my type of people’. (Something that, while it has more overlap with some labels than others, is not tied to one specific disability label.) I was not surprised to hear she was labeled as having some kind of nonspecific developmental disability growing up. I was thoroughly unsurprised when, after all the publicity, and after some very public meltdowns, she was diagnosed with autism(1). These things were on the order of “How did other people not notice?”

Which leads me to a question I’ve had for a long time:

Some autistic people are absolutely and totally obsessed with finding and listing famous people that they believe are autistic. Much of the time, the people they’re calling autistic are either undiagnosed now, or were born and died long before they could’ve been diagnosed, so they’re guessing. (I’ve got some problems with that kind of guessing, at least the way they do it.) Sometimes, they do list people who are officially diagnosed. But at any rate...

Of currently-living people, Susan Boyle may be the most famous person on the planet with any kind of actual official autism label. She’s not famous for having autism, but she’s famous and she’s been diagnosed with Asperger’s, and these are facts that are readily available. She’s certainly way more famous than Temple Grandin -- she’s a worldwide household name, Temple Grandin isn’t.

I have never seen Susan Boyle on a list of famous people with autism. And these lists are circulating all the time.

There’s probably a lot of reasons this doesn’t happen.

But I suspect I know one reason that it sometimes doesn’t happen.

One way that I identified with her right off the bat -- she’s embarrassing.

Before anyone gets mad at me for saying that, I’m not saying I’m embarrassed by her. I am saying that lots of autistic people probably are. I can’t explain how I know this. I just know that she has qualities that I also have, and I have been outright described many times by other autistic people as so horribly embarrassing to look at that it’s a terrible thing that videos of me even exist, or that people look at those videos and pass them on.

She’s visibly odd in ways that some of us are and some of us aren’t. So am I. We’re not visibly odd in identical ways, by any means. But... I can sort of map out the reaction some people have to me, and map out the way she moves and responds to things around her, and map out the fact that some autistic people are not going to respond well to her. Also our physical appearance is... I wouldn’t call us ugly (I find people with distinctive appearances attractive, actually -- probably an outgrowth of faceblindness), but a lot of people definitely would. And autistic people are far from immune to judging other autistic people based on things like our weight, face, dress sense, mannerisms, etc. And while being nerdy and geeky have become cool in some circles, it’s still never cool to be dorky. Susan and I are dorky.

Also I have to wonder if there’s any element of this related to the fact that she’s famous for something that’s part artistic skill (including both creativity and technical skills), and part emotional skill. She’s got a great voice, but that’s not what people respond to. People respond to her ability to put herself into the shoes of whoever the song’s point of view is from, and then translate that raw emotion into a way to use her talented singing voice. If all she had was a good voice, nobody would know her. What she has is empathy.

And according to stereotype, autistic people aren’t even supposed to have empathy, let alone rely on empathy to guide our greatest talents in life. Even autistic people who know intellectually that this is not true, tend to view other people with autism as having talents primarily in technical areas, not emotional areas, and if they are in emotional areas, they’re to do with self-expression, not empathy. But, in fact, some autistic people are if anything over-empathic to the point it can become painful, like another source of sensory overload. I’m one of many such people. She’s another. And if she didn’t excel at putting herself in a character’s shoes and then expressing the innermost feelings of that character artistically, nobody would know or care who she was.

So I think all of those things add up to why she’s not on many -- not on any I’ve seen, but I can’t claim to have seen them all -- of those lists of “famous autistic people”. Despite the fact that she’s world-famous and actually (unlike half the people on those lists) officially diagnosed. It’s also possible that some of the people making those lists simply don’t know this about her, but I can’t buy that nobody making such a list would have noticed by now.

Mind you, I don’t think she’d care whether she’s on such a list or not. She doesn’t strike me as someone who gets caught up in the identity of being an autistic person. She strikes me as someone who sees that as one way of describing some of who she is, but that who sees themselves primarily from outside the lens of autism. (Which I find refreshing. People who get too caught up in autism-as-central-identity tend to lose sight of important parts of who they are, even if their view of autism is broader and more positive than the official one. There’s something dehumanizing about the whole thing that even the most ardent supporters of ideas like ‘neurodiversity’ have never been able to fully remove from the concept of autism.)

The only reason I care, is that... well... I don’t like to see people treated as too embarrassing or too non-stereotypical for recognition of that kind. And because I don’t know of anyone else who is both officially recognized as autistic and famous primarily for an empathic skill. Lists of people who all have skills in roughly the same (usually science/technology/etc., sometimes artistic but still in a sense that’s viewed as somehow solitary and unconnected to people) skill areas, give the impression that we can only be good at things in a narrow range of areas. Or even that we shouldn’t even try in other areas, because those things are ‘not for us’. And that can become incredibly limiting and confining.

I have a friend who says that people with intellectual disabilities are often stereotyped (even by people trying to “highlight their strengths”) as ‘mindless hearts’, while autistic people are often stereotyped as ‘heartless minds’.(2) It’s time people recognized that autistic people can be interested in or excel in “heart-related” areas and people with intellectual disabilities can be interested in or excel in “mind-related” areas. But most of all, it’s time people recognized that all of us have both minds and hearts.

(1) I stopped differentiating between the different diagnostic sub-labels of autism long before the DSM lumped them all together as one diagnosis. It’s not that we don’t vary from each other in important ways. It’s just that those ways are not captured by any division anyone has ever come up with to split us up into categories, whether that’s “high functioning” or “low functioning” or purported differences between Asperger’s, autism, and PDDNOS. Also, in times and places where various diagnostic labels have been used, they’re not always used by the book. Meaning there are lots of people who fully more than qualified for a straight ‘autism’ diagnosis who were labeled with PDDNOS or Asperger’s because of age or stereotypes. Age? Adults getting an autism diagnosis are often labeled with Asperger’s whether they actually meet those criteria or not. Because, even (as in one person I knew personally, and she was far from unique) in someone who didn’t speak a word until their mid-teens and grew up labeled with a severe intellectual disability, both of which make you disqualify massively for an Asperger diagnosis, the fact that she could talk in her late twenties meant she got diagnosed with Asperger’s. She actually had mild Rett syndrome which was only discovered genetically after her daughter was born with severe Rett’s -- but if they didn’t know about the Rett’s, the appropriate label would’ve been ‘autistic disorder’.

It may seem odd that I care so much about people inappropriately getting Asperger’s diagnoses, if I don’t see Asperger’s as separate from autism. The reason I care is that every time you get someone saying “If you made it to your thirties with no diagnosis you couldn’t possibly qualify for an autism diagnosis” or “If you’re talking really well now it doesn’t matter what your speech development was like,” it strengthens the stereotype that “real autism” can’t be missed in children and also strengthens the stereotype that every autistic person capable of talking to you about the matter actually “only” has Asperger’s and not “real autism”. So it’s actually my objection to the way stereotypes are employed that makes me care about people using Asperger’s as a catch-all term for anyone who went undiagnosed until adulthood and anyone who can use language with superficial fluency at least some of the time.

So there ends my long explanation of that, there’s a reason I put it in a footnote.

(2) It’s more complicated than that. Some of us get seen as both heartless and mindless. Some autistic people (even without ID) get thrown into the mindless heart category. And there’s a huge array of related disability stereotypes in general that I’d love to discuss someday. But right now I don’t have the time or energy, so I’ll stick with my friend’s basic way of saying it.

LYRICS (”Mad World”, originally by Tears for Fears, as sung here by Susan Boyle, the lyrics are different from the original in some places):

All around me are familiar faces Worn out places, worn out faces Bright and early for the daily races Going nowhere, going nowhere Their tears are filling up their glasses No expression, no expression Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny I find it kind of sad The dreams in which I'm dying Are the best I've ever had I find it hard to tell you I find it hard to take When people run in circles It's a very, very Mad world Mad world

Children waiting for the day they feel good Happy birthday, happy birthday Want to feel the way every child should Sit and listen, sit and listen I went to school and I was very nervous No one knew me, no one knew me Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson Looked right through me She looked right through me

#actuallyautistic #Susan Boyle #actuallyDD #actuallyneurodivergent #empathy #famous autistic people #mindless hearts #heartless minds #singers #singing #embarrassment #Mad World #Tears For Fears #music #songs #favorite singers

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 8 years ago

Text

One School

*Justin Laboy (21 Chump Street) x Reader

*Summary: The reader takes a break from telling her story, speculating about things to come, and finally gets to the moment Naomi asked for the drugs.

*Warnings: Mention of drugs? Does that count? Possibly swearing

*A/N: Part 2 of that Justin Laboy fic. I’ve been binging Law & Order lately and kinda forget to write... oops. This one is also way shorter than the last one, and I’m trying to do a part based on each song of the musical, so look forward to that!

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Just as you were starting to doze off, images of your arrest and your story playing behind your eyelids, the door opened again. “(Y/n)?” The same man from before softly asked, making you slowly open your eyes. You saw a look of sympathy flash across his face, so you knew you must have looked tired. It was refreshing to see someone so expressive, especially when your arresting officers had been so crass the entire time.

“That’s my name,” you joked, smiling. You saw he had a fast food bag in his hand and a soda cup in the other, definitely a step up from the water and chips you’d requested. He placed the items down in front of you, motioning that you could eat if you wanted to.

“An apology for the lack earlier,” he explained as you opened the bag and found a burger and fries.

“Thank you,” you said, pulling out the food and flattening the bag so you could place the food on top of it. “Hey, do you mind if we just talk while I eat? Like, I’ll get back to my story, but I kinda want to ask some questions myself.”

“Of course,” he nodded, pulling out his notepad and pen from earlier. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, what’s Naomi’s real name?” You asked, eating a fry.

“I can’t tell you that,” he replied.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t be able to, but I thought I’d give it a shot. You gotta protect your UCs, right?” You asked as a bit of a joke, but you knew it was true. Again, you’d watched enough Law & Order to know how these things go. “I’m gonna have to take a plea if the DA offers one, aren’t I?”

“That’d probably be the best option, but I’m not a lawyer,” the man told you with a bit of a shrug. “It wasn’t a lot, but you still sold.”

“I know. You know, I understand this entire thing. Like, politicians swear that high school is when all the kids are getting addicted to the hard stuff, but that’s not really the case. A lot of the time when high schoolers do drugs, they’re just trying to catch a high and chill, maybe get the munchies,” you said. “High school drugs are generally just pills and weed. Like, it’s crazy easy to get pills and weed if you know where to look.”

“You know the drug scene at your school, but you said they. Why is that?” He questioned gently, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t actually questioning you. You rolled your eyes at his poor attempt, but you knew he was just doing his job.

“I talk to people, I know some people that smoke. It’s not even that they’re bad people, they just enjoy the high. I also knew some people who deal, and that I found out on accident. You know, I walked into the bathroom at school during finals once and caught two girls about to smoke out. They just looked at me, offered me a hit, and wished me luck on my finals when I said no thanks. Anyways, I said they because I’ve never done drugs, and Naomi was the only reason for me dealing. I’m not even a dealer, she was the only reason they got me on that,” you explained. “You know, when I was waiting to make my statement, I started wondering about something.”

“And what would that be?” The man asked. He wasn’t really talking, just responding when it was necessary. You weren’t sure if you like that or not, but you did know that you liked this guy enough. He was nice, not too overbearing.

“I wondered if Naomi ever feels bad for doing stuff like this. Like, she would have set up Justin if I didn’t take the fall, and that would’ve been just because he liked her. It’s kinda messed up, especially since she started pushing the whole weed thing, asking Justin to get her some,” you said. “That’s part of the story, by the way.”

“You didn’t like Naomi, I’ll take it,” he encouraged you to continue.

“No, not really. She came in, charmed the dude I’d liked since freshman year, and then she wanted him to get in some major trouble for her. It didn’t feel right to me,” you admitted. “See, Justin has a future. He’s honor roll, works harder than anyone else I know, and got accepted into multiple colleges. I knew if he got caught with that weed, he would’ve thrown that all away.”

“What about your own future? Weren’t you worried about that?” he asked.

“I wasn’t planning on going to college anyways,” you told him. “I was going to take a gap year and then try to be a freelance photographer for magazines and stuff. If that didn’t work out, then I’d go to trade school.” Throughout the conversation, you’d been eating, and you’d finished about half of the food. You took a drink of the soda and contemplated whether you were ready to continue your story or not. “I think I’m ready to continue.”

“Go right ahead,” he prompted.

It had been nearly a week since Justin had asked Naomi to the prom. She’d been giving every excuse in the book: it was too expensive (which you weren’t arguing since you struggled to pay for yourself), she was just a transfer and wouldn’t feel comfortable with Justin’s friends, the list went on and on. You knew the spiel; it was the same one you used to avoid going to homecoming with someone you weren’t interested in. You were hanging out at Justin’s house when he got the text that set off your alarm. “Naomi just asked me if I smoke,” he said, not looking up from his phone.

“What?” You asked, tumbling from where you were sitting on his bed. “That’s sketch.”

“Yeah, she just asked if I smoke weed. What should I say?” he asked, looking for guidance. He’d been bummed lately since Naomi still hadn’t given him an answer, but anytime he talked to her he still held hope.

“You don’t, just tell her that,” you replied, going to sit back on the bed, book in hand. “Why’s she asking anyways?”

“Maybe she’s looking for a supply?” Justin responded, texting away.

“What’re you telling her?” You asked, curious. Normally the dealers were able to find the people looking for weed within a month of them coming to the school. It was odd that she hadn’t found one yet if she was honestly looking for a high.

“That I can find her some,” Justin replied with ease, like that sentence wasn’t the stupidest thing you had heard all day. And that was including the guy in photography asking you if the teacher would notice if he edited in a small Shrek into one of his projects.

“Do you even know where to get drugs?” You asked, brow raised.

“How hard can it be?” Justin asked.

“I don’t know,” you said, shaking your head. “Why are you agreeing to this? It can hurt you big time.”

“Maybe this is my in with her. Maybe she’ll finally like me back, and go to prom with me,” Justin insisted, the look in his eyes letting you know he wasn’t going to let this go. “C’mon, (y/n), this is my chance.”

“It’s just… I don’t trust her. Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in if you get caught?” You continued, needing him to see just how crazy he sounded. “And, again, you don’t even know where to get drugs! You don’t hang out with guys like that!”

“I don’t know, maybe I can ask Andrew if he knows a guy,” Justin trailed off, on his phone again as he texted. “Nope, Andrew just said ‘why the hell would I know?’ Maybe I can call one of my cousins, see if he knows anyone.”

You sat, watching as Justin tried to call anyone he knew, searching for that little bit of weed to get for Naomi. It made you sick, seeing how he was willing to do anything for her, even things he knew to be illegal. You pulled out your own phone, texting to call in a favor you’d held since the previous year. You also texted one of Justin’s cousins, giving them instructions to not go through with a deal for Justin’s own good. You received replies to both of your texts within minutes, faster than the whole mess Justin was going through.

“So, what are you thinking as you watch Justin trying to get the pot to sell her?” The man asked. You still didn’t know his name, but you liked having him as a nameless listener. Then you couldn’t name an enemy, even though you didn’t consider him to be that.

“I’m thinking, what the heck is he doing? Cuz he doesn’t do things like that for anyone, and he doesn’t hang out with guys like that. Trust me, I should know,” you replied.

“So what did you do?” He asked. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, finally getting into the meat of the story.

Tag List: @pearltheartist, @holycoldcoffee

#justin laboy x reader #justin laboy imagine #21 chump street imagine #anthony ramos x reader

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putschki1969 · 8 years ago

Audio

Kalafina Club 2017/07/04

Note: According to my poll, lots of my followers would like to see more content regarding Kalafina’s regular radio show “Kalafina Club” so I thought I’d start right away. This won’t be a super detailed translation or anything. I guess you could consider it a sort of summary but hey, you know me, my summaries usually tend to be quite detailed XD As always be aware that my listening comprehension sucks so take everything you see here with a pinch of salt. Sorry this took so long >_<

Let’s get right to it 〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

Day duty: Hikaru (three times in a row! She has been busy!)

Song: あたらしい世界 (Atarashii Sekai/New World) – by The Gospellers (ゴスペラーズ) 1998

何もかもがあたらしい世界へ Nanimo ka mo ga atarashii sekai e きみをさらって行こう Kimi wo saratte ikou 世界一短い誓いをするよ Sekai ichi mijikai chikai wo suru yo そうきみが好きだよ Sou kimi ga suki da yo

Referring to the second to last line of the lyrics they just sang, Wakana says, 「短い誓いでした」 which pretty much means, “this was a short little vow”. In the lyrics it says “I am gonna make the shortest vow in the world, that’s right, I love you!”

The girls are very much smitten with this song, Keiko says that singing those lyrics about a love confession made her heart beat faster. YAY for “late night excitement”. Hikaru really loves the second line they sang, “きみをさらって行こう” which more or less means “I will take you with me [to a new world]” Wakana agrees, it’s a cool line, she is all like, “tomorrow? will you take me along tomorrow?” (referring to the listener who requested them to sing this song). To conclude this little romantic intro, we get one of Kalafina’s “love” songs =>

Te to Te to Me to Me

A fan has written a mail talking about all the different ways they are spending their summer (at the sea, at summer festivals, doing certain things etc) and then we have a question for Kalafina => Do you have any favourite ways how to spend your summer?

Hikaru decides that due to this question it will be a “Kalafina Vision” segment!

Keiko is starting out by stating that summer is always a struggle for Hikaru and the both Wa and Kei wonder if Hikaru even has favourite ways to spend her summer days. As always one of the first things that Hikaru says is that usually she doesn’t go outside in summer. No surprises there. Then she goes on to say that she doesn’t really like opening curtains and windows in the summer due to the strong sunlight but her family members will always ask her to open them so it can’t be helped and she has to open them. So whenever her family starts asking her to open the windows she knows it’s officially summer. Wa and Kei make fun of Hikaru’s aversion to sunlight. Keiko is doing her best impersonation of Hikaru being all like, “No, stop, don’t open the windows. The sunlight....!!” Awww, vampire-Hikaru is the cutest thing ever! Hi says that she always feels like melting so she really doesn’t like the sunlight, Lastly, Hikaru established once again that she really loves eating shaved ice in summer.

Then Wakana tries to think of things that instantly make her feel like it’s summer. I am not sure but I think she talks about some radio show that’s also on air around the same time as Kalafina Club. Either way, she mentions that it’s always nice to listen to Joe Hisaishi’s summer themed songs on the radio, she especially likes to hear the orchestra versions, she even has a CD of those. And yeah, she feels it’s a great way to spend your summer days, listening to these pieces while thinking about all the lovely things in summer.

As is quite usual for Wakana, she suddenly changes the topic and mentions a friend of hers. Apparently Wakana doesn’t really like air conditioning but her friend on the other hand likes to blast the AC to a point where she will have to wrap herself up in blankets in summer. Wakana thinks that’s so fascinating. Hikaru says it’s probably comparable to sitting under the cosy and warm kotatsu (table with a heated blanket) in winter when it’s cold and then you feel like eating ice cream.

Keiko then starts talking about how people tend to stay out longer during the summer months, they will walk around at night because it has cooled down a bit and there will be a refreshing breeze. She feels like that’s why it’s a little more dangerous at night. Then again, there are SO many people that in fact there is no real danger. Wakana is like, “let’s be careful! But let’s have fun!! And let’s not forget to bring a flashlight!” :P

They remember their trip to France in the summer of 2014, they went to have gelato at night around 10 pm. And they were really surprised since it was still light outside.

In your Eyes

Now it’s Keiko’s turn to talk a little. Keiko is describing the summer activities of an “imaginary” girl called A-chan. In her cute little kiddy-voice she lists stuff like “...I am gonna go to summer festivals nearby and I am gonna eat squid, drink lots of beer and enjoy some cocktails, then at home I’ll watch my favourite DVDs...” Wakana is like, “Oh that girl is having a blast!!” and then she suddenly gets curious and asks Keiko, “Is it possible that A-chan is me? It sounds a lot like me! Are you describing me?” Then the realisation hits her, “Oh no, it can’t be me, I don’t eat squid!...and I don’t drink beer...BUT I watch my favourite DVDs at home XD” (she later explains that she usually buys okonomiyaki at the festival and she will bring it home with her to eat it while watching a movie, most of the time she will just drink tea or something). Keiko then tells us some more details about A-chan, apparently she is a single woman in her 30s, so a girl of their generation XD A-chan always looks at girls in their 20s thinking about how young they still are...But then she doesn’t really continue with her stories about A-chan...I guess we’ll never find out more about her...

Wakana shortly talks about her plants but Hikaru says it’s probably not such a good idea since she is absolutely clueless when it comes to plants. That’s obviously because she spends all of her time watching anime XD Keiko interrupts her by yelling in a cute voice, “you need to go out girl!!!” Hikaru though is happy to stay at home watching summer animes. After all they provide enough heat, no need to go outside. The girls then go on to talk a bit about summer ghost stories, in particular Gakkō no Kaidan (literally School Ghost Stories), a series of horror movies. Wakana is like, “I love those films but I am also really scared of them.” Ever the talkative one, Wakana provides a short summary of one of the films for Keiko and Hikaru who have never seen it.

I think that Keiko says she would rather watch love stories.

Hikaru finishes by listing various ways to spend the summer of 2017 (the ones they have mentioned in the episode), they are people who do lots of outside activities, people who spend their time with all kinds of ghost stories etc...of course she finishes with an emphasis on people who spend their summer holidays watching anime. Lastly, the girls tell everyone to take care and to stay hydrated in the horrible summer heat

Natsu no Ringo

After this we get the usual info regarding new releases and upcoming lives. Nothing regarding their Hyakka Ryouran launch events yet but I am expecting info on those quite soon.

Most fans on twitter seem to think that we’ll get 「Hyakka Ryouran」 next week but the girls haven’t mentioned anything in that regard. We shall see. Also, there was no mention of Hikaru’s birthday during the entire episode. I guess it’s because they recorded it last week already. Maybe we’ll get something next week.

#kalafina #kalafina club #summary #my translations

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stray--thoughts · 8 years ago

Text

Stray thoughts: 7/9/2017

I had another one of those strange cinematic dreams last night. Thankfully, I feel like I’ve got enough to sit down and bang away on this keyboard for a bit.

It started out, I was in my parents’ house, in the living room right as you walk in the door. I was in a big comfy crushed velvet chair that didn’t exist in the house when it was ours. Given, there was a dark brown crushed velvet sectional and couch in that room way back when, but the chair that came with it was given to my grandparents for some strange reason. This wasn’t that chair, this chair had huge arms that you sunk down into. It was comfortable. I was sitting there with a book (unknown) watch a huge flat screen on the wall (that also didn’t exist back then). I heard someone coming down the steps.

It was Sarah Hyland, from the show “Modern Family” she walking down the steps. She’s wearing a pair of mesh basketball shorts and an old “shimmel shirt” (the half cut off shirts worn under shoulder pads in football). She wore it far better than I did. She walked over and lifted the shirt, showing off her perky little breasts and all I could do was smile not fully knowing what was going on.

I went back to the book and drifted. I woke up and it was the middle of the afternoon. I opened the door and Sarah was nowhere to be seen. I get in the car, one my dad’s old ones(it was if every car my family ever owned dating from an early 70′s Toyota Corona to my ‘84 CRX to my current car was in the drive/side of the yard) and leave. I’m driving down the road, and it’s like the road is towel or a sheet and two people are shaking it, fluffing it like it’s fresh out of the dryer. With each wave, the car flies forward. I pull into the high school gymnasium and I’m instantly playing a I a 3 on 3 basketball game.

One of my high school friends is on my team and so is the science teacher from the movie “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”. I scan the bleachers looking for Phoebe Cates, she’s not there. Neither is Sarah. We are playing against Julian Edelman, Danny Amendola and some guy I didn’t know. On the other end of the court, Roy Williams was overseeing Tyler Hansbrough and two other guys wearing Tar Heel gear going off on 3 guys that went to a rival high school.

I was enjoying giving Edelman a few hip checks. Nobody was guarding Mr. Vargas so I gave him a bounce pass that he reacted to about 8 seconds too late and I remember yelling at him and he looked confused, why he was wearing his lab coat over his tank/shorts, I have no clue. Each time I got close to Edelman I’d foul him. Foul him hard. He was starting to do that Patriot whine. He finally quit and walked off the court cursing at me when he took a final elbow to the grill that knocked out two teeth.

I blink and I’m back in the old Turbo Diesel heading home, back riding those melting waves of roads. I pull in, park, go inside. I hear the shower running upstairs and I’m still sweaty from the game so I go up, Open the bathroom and Sarah is showering, I step in and she vanishes. It wasn’t the shower from the house but like a smaller high school shower with 3-4 shower heads instead of the normal 8-12, but I was alone. So, I went over and the cut the other three shower heads on as hot as they would go and let the bathroom steam up. I shower, feel refreshed and cut the water off, dry off get dressed and the house is still empty.

I go out looking for a bite to eat and I run into two more Hollywood stars arguing in the parking lot at the local hang out. Julie Bowen (also from Modern Family) and Jim O’Heir (Jerry/Garry from Parks and Recreation) are yelling at each other about whose car hit the other as they were both backing out. I shook my head like a confused puppy and walked in and ordered the Double Chef, large fries and a banana milk shake.

I go back home and Julie Bowen is sitting at the bar in our kitchen. She’s talking to one of my friend’s mothers. She asked me “did you see the wreck?” and I said “no, you were both fussing when I pulled in”. Then she says “That damned Jerry”, like she was on the set of “Parks and Rec” as opposed to calling him Jim. I laughed at the comment but the friend’s mom looked dumbfounded. It went right over her head.

I get back in the car and the roads are still floating a bit, but a little bit more mellow. I come up to an intersection and it’s as if my car just vanished. One of my old football coaches was standing there, the one with the long hair that became more of a friend than an old football coach. He was standing there with two of my friends and I was like “what’s going on?”. We walk out of the road and immediately into the auditorium at the high school. It’s dark, but the stage is lit up. Just the four of us standing there but there is a news crew down at the bottom below the stage. The coach said, “they want to talk to us about what we saw on the boat”. I was like “okay whatever.” Then I’m like what boat?

My coach then says you don’t remember going on a boat with Julie Bowen, the Hollywood actress? I said, “no, I remember getting into a shower with Sarah Hyland, her Hollywood daughter and she vanished”. One of my friends said, “sure you did, that’s a good one.” I gave him, “I can break you in half stare” and said “what about this boat?”

The four of us sat in the back row of the auditorium, then, a waitress brought us four beers. The coach stared to explain the story and I started to remember. I said “no, I wasn’t on the boat with her, I saw her dragging this big bag on to a boat and while it took her quite some time to accomplish, she was determined, and she sped off. I said, “outside of seeing them argue in the Chef’s parking lot and her asking if I saw it, I have no clue about it”.

The newscaster waves us down and she asks, “Can I interview you about the two missing Hollywood stars?” I said, “No” and she looked disappointed. It was like I knew her. Maybe a younger sister of someone I once knew, but I couldn’t place her. We turned to leave walking up the aisle and back out the door stepping into the road. The Turbo Diesel was pulled off to the side as were their cars. We exchanged goodbyes, and I got in the car and headed up 21, to take a drive in the mountains. As the road was about to shift from 4 lanes to 2 I noticed a town Police car closing in on me.

Two lanes and blue lights are in my rear view. I’m thinking, “I’m hoping this is Pete with another joke”. It wasn’t. It was this young hot head jerk of a cop that though he was the shit way back when. He had aged some progressed up the ranks. He asked me for my license and registration, and I handed them to him. “Long time no see”, he says and then “I need you to get out of the car”. As I was getting out, I asked, “Officer what is this about?” and he’s like “First of all it's Sargent and you know damned well what this is about.” You might be a witness to a crime or you might have committed a crime, our detectives want to talk to you. I didn’t like the guy so I felt it was appropriate to be a bit of a smart ass. I said, “you forget ‘secondly’”. He was like “What the fuck are you talking about?”, I said, “You said ‘First of all it's Sargent’”, you then should have said, “Secondly, you know damned well what this is about”, he said, “you always were a smart ass.”

He calls in on his radio, in some Rosco P. Coltrane jive talk to let them know I was stopped and that they were sending back up. I asked him, “Can I drive to the station and you follow me?” and he said, yeah but let’s wait for an escort.” A few minutes later Ole Pete pulls up. He gets out and shakes my hand and says “Have you heard the one about the….. it trails off all of his corny jokes were the same…. I swear he used to pull us over to tell us a joke, or likely to keep a good eye on us. One of the small world stories, before my parents moved to what became my hometown, their next door neighbor an hour or away was Pete’s brother.

Sgt. Dickhead is leading the way, and Pete is following me. We get to the station and I see the Chief, father of an old teammate, but he wasn’t a fan of mine, since I used to like to speed and they never could quite catch me. We go in and sit down and they ask, “How do you know Julie Bowen”? I say, “she’s Claire from “Modern Family”, I think she was on “Boston Legal”, but I don’t recall her name on it”. “Cut the shit”, Sgt Dickhead said, we are well aware of her filmography. “I said, look you asked a question, I answered. I don’t know her. I know who she is, but I don’t know her and filmography is a big word for you, good job.” They asked about the bump up. I explained what I saw. They asked why she was at my house and I said that “Bertha (the friend’s mom) was at the Chef and was talking to her and told her she knew where I lived, and they were there when I got home”. I explained to her that I didn’t see the actual accident, and that she was dragging this big bag onto a boat, but I haven’t seen her since.

I asked if I can leave and the Chief said “no, you are being held on outstanding speeding tickets”. I got loud in saying, “what bullshit speeding tickets”, he opened his desk drawer, pulled out a folder and handed me 5-6 speeding tickets that were still in-tact, all the copies were there. I flipped through them. ’88, ’88, ’89, ’89, ‘89 ’90. I said “these are bullshit and you know it”. “We will let the DA decide that”. “Do I get to make a call?”, I asked and he said sure we will let you make a call. So, I called home. The answering machine came on and I left a message, knowing it was a waste of time. I sit there thinking, I should just rip these fake ass tickets up, but then I knew they’d try to charge me with “Destroying evidence”, so I sat and waited. Then ole Woody came back and said “you are free to go”.

I walk out and Sarah Hyland is standing there, dressed in jeans, a faded light blue UCLA t-shirt a pair of Wayfarers and a Dodgers hat tucked down on her head. We stopped at her rental in the parking lot, grabbed three bags from the trunk and threw them in the back of the Turbo Diesel and was driving out of town. I saw Edelman at the gas station, hit the horn and waved good bye with a one finger salute. I was pulling on the interstate, turned to my right and I was alone and that is when I started to wake up.

Stray thoughts from a warped mind.

#Sarah Hyland #Julie Bowen #Jim O'Heir #hometown #Julian Edelman #basketball #missing teeth #wayfarers #dodgers #300 d turbo diesel #strange dreams #dreams #stray thoughts #warped mind

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savourylife-blog · 6 years ago

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When in Rome...

... Eat a lot of pasta, see the sights, and load up on pictures! Starting off our visit to Italy with beautiful and historical Rome.

So much to see in a city that dates back how many centuries, didn't even really think about food - at first. Then after seeing all pictures and places to eat, outside of pizza and pasta (which totally lives up to the hype, as long as you don't end up in a tourist trap which can easily happen). There's also quite a bit of seafood and of course gelato, coffee, desserts, etc. So here we go!

Arriving early afternoon we had time for one stop, the Pantheon! You can see it though the alleyways as you're walking towards it. The size is overwhelming! Then you see all the tourists, wonder how long it's going to take to get in, send the husband into the line while you take pictures and then be pleasantly surprised the queue moves super fast! I thought the inside would have been bigger, maybe because there actually weren't that many people inside compared to those waiting outside or that I was expecting more after being blown away by exterior. Regardless, very happy we made the stop.

A couple blocks away is the very famous gelato shop Giolitti. Absolutely flooded with people, can barely make out the flavours with all the bodies in the way. It was delicious and refreshing, however, I can't say it was the best we had during our trip. A must-visit because it's an icon but you'll find tastier and cheaper... My fave places that we tried out to come ;-)

I booked as many skip-the-line tickets as possible since standing in a queue is a waste of time. The best thing was booking the early access to the Vatican, skip the line and get in before the crowd does. Arriving just after 7am for check-in we were inside the Vatican Museum (above) before 7:30 and had a tour guide explain the history of the tapestries, maps, etc. We get to the entrance of the Sistine Chapel just before 8am when the doors open. I've heard from many friends that it's normally shoulder to shoulder, can't imagine trying to lean back to see the masterpiece on the ceiling in that kind of crowd. Happy to grab a seat on the back bench and take as much in as possible. The company we used was City Wonders and would recommend them.

By the time we made it to the veranda to see St. Peter's Square there was a line that snaked about 1/4 the way around square, it was only about 10am! It was a hot and sunny day so standing in that wouldn't have been pleasant.

Jet lag isn’t so bad, you can use the time to go to the super early things like 7am tours. It’s funny, sleeping isn’t that important on vacation but is top priority back home.

Around the corner from the Vatican is a pizza place called Alice Pizza, recommended by our guide. Order by the slice, everything looked amazing and we were famished so we certainly bit off more than we can chew. Actually worked out, having done the touristy thing - look for the pie with the least slices left and order that - we essentially had a taste of each pie! The more popular local flavours did not work for us non-Italians (fish apparently is a popular flavour!) but we still were stuffed from the different types of cured meats, mushrooms, veggies toppings

Later that evening we wandered to Trastevere since there's lots of shops that open late along with restaurants and bars. We had a nice drink at a trendy place called 404 Name Not Found. Friendly staff and cheap beer and wine. The highlight though had to be the dinner we had at Da Enzo, the pasta was fabulous!

The wait was about an hour and I was totally regretting not grabbing a snack at 404 but it was worth the wait. The traditional lasagna (above) and carbonara was 5/5! Carbonara (below) seems to be the specialty and go to in Rome so it's a must try. At Da Enzo they use a pork cheek bacon that has a nice hint of smokiness and just the right amount of crisp. Who doesn't love lasagna, let's be honest. The meat sauce was perfectly seasoned with a right thickness. Watery meat sauce is a tragedy (which you'd often come across with lasagna at home), makes the pasta too soft and ruins the whole dish. The tiramisu was also delicious, not overly sweet, smooth cream and coffee with ladyfingers soaking it all in.

We joined another skip the line tour for the Colosseum and Roman Forum (Walks of Italy). The guide, Guido, was full of information but also monotone like a jaded junior high teacher. So you want to listen and learn but struggle to keep focused. Well worth it to have him lead the way since there's so much to see and loads of other tour groups but would have been more enjoyable if he had just a wee bit of enthusiasm.

When I researched how we'd explore the Colosseum I had seen so many picture of the exterior, with the one side that had crumbled because of the many earthquakes, but not many pics of the inside. Without the guide's explanation we couldn't have guessed half the things and what they were for. Like in the image above, this was where many of the animals, from all over the world, were brought into view - using man powered elevators! Well slave powered pulley systems, each animal, could be hippos, giraffes, leopards, skunks, etc, would be brought up at different times to increase the suspense for the audiences, rising from different parts of the stage. The larger animals, like elephants and lions, would come through a side entrance. All animals were kept in the dark and starved for several days to ensure they would come out enraged and attack the first thing it saw. Who would have known?

The Spanish Steps was just around the corner from our hotel. Typically packed with visitors. It was a pleasant surprise when we were leaving to go to the train station one early morning to see they it was almost completely empty. The contrast from the night before is actually kinda magical, to feel like you have the place all to yourself after seeing literally thousands of people just 10 hours before bending and reaching to try and get a selfie that doesn't have 25 people photobombing you. It was peaceful, nice way to leave Rome and head to our next destination - Florence.

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verdelet · 8 years ago

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Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: Gen Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Relationship: Dazai Osamu & Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: not-a-date date, Fluff, No Angst, pre-relationship if you squint

Language: English Published: 2017-01-23 Words: 2024 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Dazai is, upon hindsight, an acquired taste. Oda doesn't mind though. Dazai's company is more than he's had in a long while, even if he can't figure out why Dazai meets him as often as he does.

It's not like Oda is complaining about the company. He wouldn't. He enjoys Dazai's company and the way Dazai seems to regress by at least five years when spending time with Oda. It's refreshing, and it gives Dazai the opportunity to actually act his age, though Oda thinks that sometimes Dazai isn't acting his age as much as he is simply catching up. He'd mentioned it once, out of curiosity, but Dazai had laughed and feigned wounds at the 'cruel' words. Oda had apologized, wondering if he'd touched on a raw topic, and the face Dazai had made at the time looked somewhere between amused and surprised. He digresses, however. The point is that Oda genuinely enjoys Dazai's company and the way Dazai is so very careful not to touch his skin for even a second so long as their location isn't absolutely secure. The way Dazai takes ages to order anything at a restaurant but always settles for the same crab dish. The way Dazai bounces from thought to idea to revelation so quickly Oda's surprised he doesn't get motion sickness, but always leaves room for Oda to offer some kind of input anyway. Still, he doesn't know what to make of the way Dazai is smiling at him right now, smirking actually, and leaning precariously over the chair that Oda finds himself getting ready to catch Dazai when he inevitably falls. The owner of the curry shop, to his credit, laughs and serves up Oda's usual lunch before heading upstairs to make sure the children aren't causing property damage (from the thumping Oda's been hearing every so often since he'd arrived, he's not going to hold his hopes up too high). "O-da-sa-ku~" There's something in the way Dazai says that nickname that he likes. The way it rolls off the other's tongue so easily, the way it sounds like affection at times, the way Dazai grins like he would make Oda carry him if not for the importance of not cancelling out the future-seeing Ability. “Yes?” He watches Dazai steal a bite of his curry, absently wondering why Dazai always steals a bite despite never being able to handle its spiciness. Dimly noting that he could stop Dazai from the inevitable burnt tongue but also realising that he doesn’t really want to because there’s something appealing about the way Dazai’s nose scrunches up as the younger man pulls a face at him. It’s cute, which is a term he’d never thought he’d use on anyone in the mafia. “Egh…” Dazai steals his water and drains most of it, still pulling a face. “Don’t you have a mission to complete today?” Oda takes his spoon back, unable to help smiling when he takes a bite and Dazai squints as though waiting for him to react to the spices. “Mmhmm. I’m on it right now.” Dazai frowns when Oda doesn’t react, but Oda just tilts his head in confusion. “Here?” For the life of him, he can’t imagine why the mafia would organise a mission in a curry shop important enough to send in an executive. Upstairs, there’s another heavy thump, and Oda also hopes that the shop structure is a lot stronger than it looks. “Yup! You know, Odasaku, it’s important for me to make sure my subordinates are working in an acceptable working environment,” Dazai explains, grinning and sitting sideways on the stool so he can kick his feet lightly at Oda’s. “But I’m not your subordinate,” Oda points out, because he might be in the lowest rank of the mafia, but that also means he isn’t tied to a particular division. “Ah, but you see, as an executive,” Dazai counters back, “The only ones who aren’t my subordinates are the other executives and the boss. So Odasaku, you’re technically my subordinate~” “I see.” It makes sense, he supposes. In the barest sense, he is technically under Dazai, even if he isn’t directly affiliated. Strange that Dazai would still consider him a subordinate, though. Few would. “So… your mission is to check on my working conditions?” “It is.” Dazai hooks an ankle around Oda’s, tugging as though to make Oda turn to face him but not hard enough for it to be an actual command. “It’s important to make sure my subordinate is happy with his working conditions. It wouldn’t do if they were being asked for too much, you know?” He doesn’t. “And you arranged for this mission… on my day off?” There seems to be a logic there that he can’t quite follow. Dazai doesn’t even look phased, which means the other knows it’s Oda’s day off (and it’s obvious because Oda’s spent all morning with the children as he always does when he can afford to). “Exactly.” Dazai nods as if to seal a deal Oda hadn’t been aware was being made. It’s followed by a slide that nearly has the stool Dazai’s on tipping over from the sheer weight imbalance, but Dazai plants a foot on the footrest of Oda’s stool to keep himself upright and leans forwards until he’s almost draped against Oda’s arm and shoulder. “So, Odasaku, what do you do on your days off?” "Nothing worth noting..." Oda can't say he knows where Dazai is going with this. Even when he does have work, it isn't as though the mafia has anything significant for him to do. Dazai doesn't seem the least bit perturbed by the lack of enthusiasm, only grinning crookedly and hooking an arm around Oda's own. He can imagine Dazai's commentary though, the little comments his friend would drop in regards to how Oda spends his day and well... It'd be sad to waste Dazai's time if the young man is willing to spend it with Oda. "Dazai, what do you do on your days off?" The question gets him a laugh, Dazai's grin apparent even without Oda looking. "Mafia executives don't get days off, Odasaku," Dazai teases, as though it's common knowledge, "You know how it is." Oda doesn't. "No rest for the wicked, and all that." "That sounds tiring," Oda answers dutifully, and Dazai's weight slumps against his arm in response. "Exactly~ That's why I've decided to take the much less stressful job today and spend it on making sure my dear subordinate is doing well!" Dazai hums, clearly not about to change his mind, and Oda shrugs internally. If Dazai wants to treat today as the day off that he doesn't usually get, who's Oda to tell him otherwise? Still, it would be better to ensure Dazai at least enjoyed it, right? "Okay," he says in the end, as though he'd been questioning whether Dazai should tag along in the first place. "Well... First of all, there's a movie that I've been considering watching for a while now, if you're interested?" It's not a lie, but he hadn't planned to actually watch it until now. "Oh? That sounds like you're asking me out on a date, Odasaku," Dazai teases, and Oda pauses to think on that for a moment. It doesn't sound as though Dazai is opposed to the notion of being on a date with him, but it's not like he wants to give the wrong impression either... "If that's how you'd like to see it," he says, and it really is as simple as that.

"Humans really are strange... Would someone really go to such lengths just for the sake of another person?" It's natural, the way Oda finds himself half a step behind Dazai. Most of the younger man's expression hidden by the angle as well as the bandages that never seem to come off. He's not sure what sort of expression Dazai carries when the statement is made, but he's also learnt by now that the physical features rarely convey Dazai's true emotions. "You didn't enjoy it?" Oda watches Dazai out of the corner of his eye. Dazai pauses, barely for even a second, but it's enough for Oda's stride to catch up, and they fall into step side by side. It's not that much easier to see Dazai's face, but Oda appreciates the gesture. "It was decent," Dazai concedes, hands tucked neatly into his pockets. To their left, Yokohama's lake glistens with the colour of sunset, brilliant orange melting into blue melting into black. Following the brick-lined path brings them past various couples leaned against the railing, all caught up in their own little world. To their right, past the shrubs that act as a separator, Oda can hear children laughing as they chase each other around the field, the occasional bark of dogs meeting in play. "I'll look for a better movie next time, then." For some reason, that makes Dazai laugh, and Oda turns to him in question. "Your tastes are just fine, Odasaku," Dazai says, then frowns a little. "Though I have to ask: Where exactly are we going?" "Ah... A seafood restaurant opened up recently, and I thought it'd be more fun to try it out since I had someone with me." Also not a lie, but he thinks Dazai knows it isn't the whole truth. It isn't a reason why Oda had parked the car on one end of the park, after all, and why they're walking to the restaurant instead of driving there. Fortunately, Dazai doesn't seem to mind - there's a smile Oda can catch the edges of, and if his companion had had any complaints, he's certain Dazai would have brought them up. With a laugh, Dazai skips a few steps ahead and spins around, treading backwards with ease even as Oda glances around to make sure he isn't about to bump into anyone. "You know, when I said that this was a date, I didn't actually mean it~" He's grinning and reaching out to pull Oda closer by the coat lapel, and Oda follows the motion until they're almost chest to chest. "If you don't want it to be a date, it doesn't have to be," Oda reminds him. Had Dazai not enjoyed the day? It'd be disappointing, but Oda supposes it isn't surprising... It's not as though he's very good at being decent company- "What do you want today to be, Odasaku?" Dazai's finger trails up his chest, running over each button but stopping just short of where his collar parts to show the dip of his collarbone. Even now, Dazai's careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact, and Oda can't help but appreciate the little gesture regardless of its practical uses. "I just wanted you to enjoy today." Facing Dazai like this, Oda can watch his friend's expression shift slightly. "It would have been boring for you if you'd just followed me around on errands, so I wanted to spend time with you instead... But if you'd prefer to stop here, we can-" The smile Oda's so used to seeing slips, just for a fraction of a second, before it's back and melting into something much softer. "I'd like to have dinner with you, Odasaku," Dazai murmurs, and his hand falls back down to catch Oda's sleeve, tugging just slightly. "Since you've been such a wonderful subordinate lately, I'll even treat you myself~" "Dazai, you don't have to," Oda points out. He may not be paid as much as an executive, but Oda's always been good at saving money and he can afford this much at the very least. "Ah, but what if I want to?" There's a laugh dancing just below those words. Oda can hear it as clear as day, and considers resisting for all of a second before tilting his head in submission. "Then I'd appreciate the gesture," he answers. Dazai hums, something victorious in the steps his friend takes until Oda carefully pulls on a sleeve so Dazai doesn't end up walking in the wrong direction. Overhead, the streetlights are starting to flicker to life, the sky a purple-blue kaleidoscope of colours speckled with the silver glitter of stars. All around, Yokohama hums with the life of its citizens. For Oda, just for tonight, he need only focus on Dazai, and he's willing to admit that he quite likes it that way.

#odazai week #bsd #sakunosuke oda #dazai osamu #odazai #i saw a man so beautiful i started crying #verdy writes #i just realised i don't have a really shippy odazai fic #i should fix that #one day #i ship them so hard #but for i just havent posted the schmoopy stuff

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awkwarddezzy · 8 years ago

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Uplate on RL Dan

typed this all last night on a word doc and felt too lazy so I only proofread once

Hiya lovelies! Whoever read Anywhere But Here and 7 Days are aware RL Dan (if you didn’t read the stories, his name is David) and I broke up. Since posting those imagine fics, a lot of things have happened. I mean A LOT. Between then and now, the things that happened will make you guys dislike RL Dan less (should you hate him for what he did). DO NOT BLAME HIM FOR HIS CHOICE. As you’re about to read, what’s going on with us atm will shed a new perspective for our entire situation.

PS before I forget I learned what “her” name is. However, for privacy purposes, I’ll call her Sarah like what I did in 7 Days. As for David, I’ve grown used to calling him RL Dan here so that’s the name I’ll be sticking with.

We chatted on Facebook Messenger a few times throughout winter break. When I originally posted the stories, I assumed Sarah and RL Dan would get a chance to meet, talk, and start a proper relationship over the break. I was ready to spend the next three weeks wallowing in my misery and playing the role as supportive best friend as I watched their relationship progress. But that didn’t happen. She was supposedly under a home lockdown for whatever reason. Maybe she was grounded for doing something bad. Maybe an alien attacked her like what happened with Tabitha in that Sims ep last year lol. I didn’t know. She had no way to get in touch. On top of that, she was sick. As someone who has asthma, I felt bad for her. This is a season for getting sick. RL Dan was feeling incredibly disconnected since he wanted so badly to talk to her. So I gave him words of encouragement, telling him things will get better and to think positive. And it did… I guess. He got to talk to her a couple times before New Years Eve, though he was laying low and mostly focused on the holidays.

He appreciates when I’m around to cheer him up. He knows about my situation of barely having internet at home (a reason also explained from 7 Days). He’s happy I’m still there for him, because he was afraid I wouldn’t want to talk to him anymore. But I’m not that sort of person. Experience from the past taught me to keep fighting for people even if they’re pulling away.

We’re both emotional messes. It’s one among many reasons why we’re so close.

He told me a little bit about Sarah. In his words, “she’s smart, funny, she laughs at my jokes, she’s always been there, she makes me laugh, she loves her family, I just think she’s great.” He described her as a likable person, but in the back of my mind, something felt off. I didn’t know what it was, but I imagined her as one of those “dream” nerdy girls that seems so perfect you wouldn’t expect them to have a bitchy side. I didn’t tell him that though. I didn’t want to sound jealous, and I really did want him to be happy. He was doing what I wished I could’ve done in the past with someone else.

I also asked him why he wanted to talk to me when we started the poetry unit for our creative writing class. Apparently, I did mention I was into MCR too when we had to do that whole explanation of our opinions about poetry. In his head, he thought I was cool and felt intrigued to approach me after class. It was something I was curious about for the last few days, especially since you guys know I’m incredibly introverted and have a difficult time socializing to people outside of social media.

Fast forward to this Monday. What was SUPPOSED to be my first day of microbiology lab was a bust since I got an email in my college email account from my professor telling us class won’t start till Wednesday (today). So for the next few hours (because I didn’t wanna go home yet), I was chatting with Crystal aka @beforethebraces, later, RL Dan. With Crystal, we talked about… well, something that makes her incredibly happy right now that I can’t share the details yet (I’ll let her be the one to give me the green light for the big reveal). But anyway, we also talked about David and our thoughts about Sarah. We had a very, very deep conversation over the feelings I still have for RL Dan. She gave me the best advice about believing there’s a reason we met. She agreed how we’re highly suspicious of Sarah’s feelings for RL Dan. Between the two of us, we analyzed the events I knew happened with Sarah and RL Dan and realized there was something fishy. We sensed Sarah didn’t feel the way RL Dan felt toward her.

When I got to chat with David (he had class and immediately left campus afterward for dialysis), he told me he ran into Sarah on his way to class. They did some catching up. He learned her phone was acting up, hence why she couldn’t reach him. She was also still sick (he thought it was the flu), so even if she could get in contact with him, she didn’t feel well enough to do so.

So how do I secretly react?

😡😡😡

I sensed some lying.

Lemme break it down for you guys.

The most obvious one: You can’t have the flu for three weeks. As a future medical specialist, it isn’t possible. A flu is only supposed to last a week or two. Anything beyond a week could mean something serious.

Second: the way RL Dan described their encounter seemed like she was distant from him, as if she feigned being sick so she wouldn’t talk to him. If you’re being distant, it usually means you’re hiding something, or at least have something weighing your mind.

Third: What if the lockdown was an excuse? It was a possibility on the back of my mind while I was on break, but didn’t think much of it since it would make me sound jealous. But it was likely. Think about it: if you’re sick, wouldn’t you desperately want to talk to the people who matter to you? That’s what Crystal and I would do. When I was really sick in 10th grade and was absent from school for 3 days, I was desperate to get online and talk to my friends so I could tell them what was up. I barely kept my resistance to stay offline. My mom drilled into my head to get better, so that’s what I did. And I was so exhausted I’d sleep most of the day away.

In general, I had a hunch Sarah wasn’t being truthful. But I wouldn’t allow my suspicions cloud my friendship with RL Dan. I did what a good friend would do: give a great pep talk, because that’s what I’m a master at (ask Crystal; just being there for her and not being a judge gets her through awful times). I kept him company while he was on dialysis. He told me he had issues with his schedule. We tried to make plans to meet up the next day, though the time I’d arrive at school is the time he has a class. So we just let that tiny dilemma be. We’d have time to meet another day once we get used to our spring courses.

So that brings me to yesterday. He found me sitting at one of the tables in front of the campus Subway. I just finished my first day of a micro lecture class and doing my usual Tumblr spree/waiting for another chat room to open for Mystic Messenger (I finally started deep story and crossing my fingers to land on Jumin’s route). I planned to stay for 10 minutes or so before catching a bus home. We talk for a bit, and he finally tells me he discussed his feelings with Sarah with her.

She. Changed. Her. Mind.

She told him she didn’t feel the sparks anymore and the door is now 100% closed. In other words, it’s done-zo. Oh, and he apologized for our breakup. He still feels bad about it.

We met up again a couple hours ago, though it was short. He wanted to see me before he had to head home, eat a quick lunch, and go do his dialysis. In that time frame, we talked like we usually did. Still super close, still open and didn’t act weird around me, still just… him.

How rare is it for exes to remain like best friends? You guys tell me.

So… what happens now? Where do we go from here? RL Dan says he’s fine about it. Good actually, since he knows the truth and now he can move on. I feel guilty about my hunch being right. I’m selfless and was so supportive for his happiness. But I can’t help but feel… hopeful. A door closes and another opens. An end to a beginning.

I’ve let go of my fears about love. I did that during the break. I’m not scared anymore to fall in love. I’m not letting my past hold me back. I feel refreshed for 2017: with school, with love, with life… with everything.

Think positive. That’s my motto for the year.

I’ll give RL Dan a few days to think it over. I was so, so tempted yesterday to ask him about us, but my feelings weren’t what’s important. It’s his. I won’t make the mistake to give him space, because trust me, I made that choice once and it was the worst choice I ever made. But I will be here for him. I’ll talk to him and continue to be his confidant. Now isn’t our time. It’s too soon for him to jump back into a relationship. No matter how much I want us to get back together, being hasty will only lead to disastrous results.

Then again, a part of me thinks we never actually broke up. I see it as us pressing pause in our relationship; someday, when the time is right, we’ll press resume.

Red string of fate, ya’ll. I still believe he’s on the other end of mine.

I care so much about him. It’s scary. I don’t want to lose him as a friend. For now, I’ll set aside my emotions and get through the rest of the week. I’ll talk to him one-on-one about our relationship next week (unless he brings it up sooner). I’ll tell him I still have feelings for him. I’ll tell him I didn’t give up on him and wonder if we could open the door for our own relationship again. I’ll go on a first date we never did and be the girl that won’t ever hurt him again.

So… yeah. You guys deserve an explanation for what’s happening between David and I. Dating him during a time where I suffered through a semester-long existential crisis over questioning what I was doing with my life really helped me out. I was in such a funk and he was that fallen angel who rescued a princess of darkness. He reignited my passion to go into the medical field. And it’s not everyday I meet a boy who resembles Dan Howell (and a bit of Phil). When I truly got into Dan and Phil in early 2016, I structured my ideal boyfriend to be someone who’s a mix of Phan. And guess what? I met that person. I met that person who knows about their existence. I met that person who I don’t have to put a persona for. I met a boy who showed me the best parts of falling in love and refused to let me go when he chose Sarah.

He matters. He’s… my cheesehead (a nickname I started calling him since he’s so cheesy AF lol). He understood the part of my past that made me fear trusting people. He’s everything I could ask for in a red string soulmate.

Nowadays he calls me fam. Like we’re family.

I adore him. He’s a beautifully broken boy I waited 19 years to capture my heart like this.

Trust me on this, everyone. I know what I’m doing and I won’t let him hurt me again.

I’ll definitely update you guys again once I do our one-on-one talk. You guys have been incredibly cool about us and I really love sharing these kind of details with you. It’s exhilarating to experience events that become incorporated in my imagines.

My life… it’s a gigantic fanfiction eh? 😂

#danisnotonfire #danisnotonfire imagine #danisnotonfire preference #dan howell #dan howell imagine #dan howell preference #mý life is just one giant fanfiction #but don't worry about me guys

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this-is-for-the-record-blog · 7 years ago

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Pearl Jam - Backspacer - Album Review

Backspacer is the ninth studio album from Seattle’s greatest alternative rock band, Pearl Jam. The band returned to their famed producer Brendan O‘Brien. Despite Brendan O’Brien mixing their recent record, this would be the first record to be produced by O’Brien since 1998′s Yield. Backspacer also is the most glossy, produced, accessible and dare i say poppiest record since Yield and even more so than that record and most successful record since No Code. Its the shortest, most upbeat and lyrically optimistic record in their entire discography especially compared to the preceded Riot Act and self titled records, which was due to the recent election of President Barack Obama and singer Eddie Vedder becoming a family man, raising two daughters now. This record is the first record to be released independently under their own label Monkeywrench Records with physical copies of the record sold exclusively at Target and some independent record stores. The bands music video for “The Fixer” was used on a Target commercial promoting the record. This lead to a bit of controversy within the fan base where the band was called “sellouts” for working exclusively with a major retail corporation. To be honest the choice didnt sit well with me either not to mention the bands promotional deal with Verizon especially when similar companies like AT&T have censored their music. This is the same band who wrote songs like “Blood”, “Not For You”, “Do The Evolution”, “Soon Forget”, “Ghost” and “Green Disease”; but its like singer Eddie Vedder said about The Who offering their music to commercials and tv shows, the band uses their profits to donate to non profit charities. They arent like some artists out their pimping their music for another lambo or yacht. Pearl Jam is the same way and now Eddie has two daughter’s futures to think about not to mention the other band members and their children. Backspacer was the first record from the band to receive an exceptional amount of promotion and a TV spot. Its the first time since Vitalogy or No Code that the band made a huge directional shift, but quite the opposite shift this time. Gossard said that Backspacer is “what we could have done for the last five records, in terms of re-engaging with the roots of why this band works”, and that “there’s plenty of ballads, too… and there’s some shifts in how Jeff and Matt and I are all relating—I think this record’s got a chance to sound significantly different.” Pearl Jam is now a band kind, peaceful, love seeking, and eco friendly family men and those traits play huge part in Backspacer’s direction.

Sonically the songs, as I said, are more accessible with their shorter and upbeat poppy structures, similar to early Devo, Buzzcocks, The Rolling Stones, The Police, X, R.E.M., The Kinks, The Knack, Split Enz, Guided By Voices, U2, and Oasis. This is due to producer Brendan O’Brien having a bigger hand and voice on the direction of the records sound. Guitarist Mike McCready said “It’s a really quick record, but I like that element to it. I like the sparseness of the songs and the way that Brendan pulled us together and made us play as good as we could.“ Frontman Eddie Vedder said “At this point, I think we’re willing to let somebody cut the songs up a little bit… In the past, Brendan would say, ‘It’s a great song, but I think you should do it in a different key’, and we’d say no, but now that we’ve heard Bruce [Springsteen] has listened to his suggestions, I think we will too.” Bassist Jeff Ament said this about O’Brien “He brings a brutally honest approach to what he thinks is working and what isn’t, and it really moves things along… We don’t get weighted down with ideas that maybe aren’t even that good. He’s one of the few people outside of the band that we trust with our music, and we’re really, really looking forward to making this record.” The band even left Seattle for extensive amounts of time to work with Brendan O’Brien at his studio in Los Angeles. McCready said, “We got together with Ed and it really started getting more cohesive, we took that momentum down to Los Angeles with Brendan… It was a great idea to get us out of Seattle. You’ve gotta get out [of] your comfort zone, and we’ve talked about doing that for the past ten years and kind of haven’t, so we trusted Brendan’s judgment.” Backspacer sounds like a record written with touring and live performances in mind. The uptempo song structures seem to really draw a lot of crowd participation with the claps and “yeah yeah yeahs” especially on the lead single “The Fixer” a song that has an energy to that of Split Enz’s “I See Red” and The Police’s “Truth Hits Everybody.”and “De Do De Da” on the tracks riff and rhythm. Its easily the bands most poppy and most accessible song even more so than “Better Man.” Gossard said “At one of our gigs, without flashpots and electricity, there’s only so much room for those difficult listening songs. That’s one reason we kept the arrangements lean.” This song was written by drummer Matt Cameron, which explains the odd timing. The song starts in 5/4, then switches to 6/4 for the verse, while the chorus and bridge are both in 4/4. Gossard stated, “It’s relatively straightforward, but it has Matt’s love of odd time. It also breaks back down to something very three-chord and fun. We need that. If Pearl Jam is thinking too much, we’re not very good. We’re much better when we’re not thinking.” The band treads in new waters, shifting musical direction. Even organist Boom Gasper starts playing more keyboards rather than just the Hammond organ like his piano parts on “The Fixer”.

Backspacer is a bit of contrast from their previous work that doesnt sit well with longtime old school Pearl Jam fans, with its glossy production, accessible upbeat song writing and promo use. In the bands defense though, they served this movement well and retained many of their core values. The sound comes off more natural and showcases the band simply have fun and reminding people that they are still here. This shift is quite similar to indie rock band Guided By Voices’ Do the Collapse record. some of the bands side work brought new colors to the Pearl Jam palette. Stone Gossard said “There’s a couple of great things that Ed brought in that could be real departures for us.” One of those songs is “Just Breathe” a song that is what you might call a “cliche love song” or the bands first love song. While Pearl Jam have written unique and sparse love songs like “Oceans” and “Thin Air” this song is a bit more direct, less ambiguous and more sappy. Eddie’s folky, acoustic, arpeggio riff in the song resembles the same pattern played in “Dust In The Wind” by Kansas and is very similar to “Tuolumne,” a song off Vedder’s Into The Wild record and features some sweet violin and Boom playing a tonal key melody. “Whatever wave Ed caught with Into the Wild has taken him to different places,” Gossard stated. Other acoustic songs are “The End”, a somber but beautiful melody that features for the first time an orchestration and “Speed of Sound” the albums downbeat that was released in its early demo acoustic form before the record dropped and I have to say how much more timeless and more beautiful it is when compared to the recorded Backspacer version. Some of the faster songs like “Gonna See My Friend” and “Supersonic” are possible B side tracks from the self titled record that sound like Chuck Berry meets Ramones, while “Got Some” has an early period of Devo’s “Gut Feeling” meets The Police’s “Its Alright For You”. Matt Cameron is at his best on this record with his Stewart Copeland like energy barrelling through the songs meshing Jazz beats with punk speed and intesity controlling every start and every stop and every tempo shift. Many songs on the record like “Johnny Guitar”, sound like something from The Knack’s debut record and find the independent and free band just having fun. “Amongst the Waves” and “Unthought Known” are great mid tempo tracks with the band shifting into half time on the first track and building with a climactic crescendo in the second. Pearl Jam sounds tighter and more professional than ever before and its not just the production. Backspacer is the first time the band had rehearsed pre written songs before going into recording since Ten. The song writing process was quite similar to their debut record too and like Ten, Vedder wrote all the lyrics.

“The Fixer” is a song that Vedder calls “a reminder song to me, to stop fixing.“ It seems to be written in result to Vedder’s feelings as hes become both a father and a husband with feeling the need to fix or correct things. Vedder said, “Men, we all think we can fix anything. It’s not necessarily a good thing. In a relationship, a woman will say ‘This is wrong,’ and we’re like, ‘I’ll fix that, don’t worry about it, we can fix it.’“ Gossard stated, “There’s some retrospective moods on this record, where Ed is looking at both his past and his future.” Lyrically Pearl Jam approached Backspacer with a positive outlook rather than the moody political angst that the band had become known for. We’ve made a couple of political and pointed records, the last two in particular, and just to move away from that is great, because it allows you to go back to that when you need to and it refreshes everybody, and it comes down to a beat and a melody and your friends and a lyric and a poem and something that’s important to you.” Many songs seem to have an underlying theme of drug use. The song “Gonna See My Friend” is about recovery, while “Got Some” is presented in a way that suggest dealing some kind of drug but like the concept used on “Spin The Black Circle” that drug again here is Rock n Roll. Like a drug, music can energize you lifting you up when you are low. Both “Got Some” and “Supersonic” are a reminder to live life to the full and are simply Vedder again expressing his love for music and needing to turn it up loud. Vedder said, “It’s a tangible thing that gives you as much energy as a drug. It can change the shape of your mood" “Just Breathe” is about taking a moment to appreciate love and life and “Amongst The Waves” marries love and surfing and again mentions feeling high (almost like a drug) on life while surfing. “Unthought Known” uses some fantastic imagry and is a simple but beautiful and philosophical song that reminds me of “Wishlist” that, also like that song, has Eddie stuck in his mind pondering and thinking. Its sort of the feeling you might have while day dreaming on the west coast after the sun has set and youre the last one on the beach. The song “Force of Nature” is my favorite song on the record about being a rock in a relationship. Vedder said, "The person in the song is the lighthouse for the other person caught in the storm.“ “Speed of Sound” and the last song on the record “The End” are the more deeper and sadder songs on the record. The first being about regrets and living so long in the past that you neglect the present and forget to care about your future. The closing track is the darker love song on the record and is a final goodbye message from someone who has made mistakes in his life.

Backspacer was named after the historical name of the backspace key on typewriters that went out of use in the 1950s. The title may represent deleting a previous error, ethos, opposition or formula, to reword or rewrite it over again. Vedder said, “Backspacer [means] actually you kind of have to go back and look at your mistake.” The art work on Backspacer was done by underground, political, editorial cartoonist, Tom Tomorrow and features 9 otherworldy, comic-esque, reimagined images inspired from pop culture and history. Images of Vern running from the train in the film “Stand by Me,” Guilligan’s Island meets Lost In Space, Johnny Guitar Watson, Evelyn McHale from the historical photo known as “the most beautiful suicide”, Ed White in space on the Gemini 4 flight playing Keith Moon’s drumset, the great magician Howard Thurston, a mannequin of the human anatomy, the brain of Morbius from Dr Who, and Esther Williams in a Seattle aquarium. On the limited edition vinyl the typewriter keys, that spell out BACKSPACER, glow in the dark. On the exclusive target CD the outer sleeve pulls out revealing the single brain in a jar to be connected to each of the band members. Not sure what the cover art represents but it definitely represents something. There are 9 pictures and this is the bands 9th studio album. Each image could possibly represent a record in some way. The astronaut would be a good place to start its clearly Binaural. The rest is up to you to figure out. I think thats what I like most about this artwork unlike the record its much more complex and ambiguous or it could be as simple as inspirations for each member in the band. Its a colorful bright record like the record itself.

Critically, Backspacer lacks some depth present on their previous records, its got personality but not much depth. It also offers more strained vocals from Vedder who sounds like hes struggling within the key of the heavier tracks. The strain plays off well at times and at others not so much. The drums and rhythm section sound better than ever but the guitar parts, licks and leads probably lack the most creativity here and not in the intentional way that was present on Vitalogy or No Code. Backspacer is admittedly the first Pearl Jam record that has a couple tracks that still have not grown on me and that id skip over, such as “Johnny Guitar,” the bands weakest song lyrically stealing The Who’s “Pictures of Lilly” concept. Backspacer is simple upbeat record, but provides some of the best melodic rock in their entire catalog. I have many memories of taking trips to the beach in San Diego and Huntington while listening to it. The record itself has a very bright and sunny oceanic sound. At the time I was in a place where I probably would have related more to broken hearted music but I think the optimism of this record was what I needed. I certainly wasnt in love with anyone but I loved Pearl Jam, I loved my friends and family and I loved the air i was breathing and ocean i was swimming in. I think there was plenty in life to still be thankful for and I think thats what this record is about and it helped remind me of that. I think the record sounds great, at times i think a little too good, but even punk rock bands like Ramones had their glossy pop driven records. With the band now approaching 20 years together, Pearl Jam have definitely established their name as an experienced band that lives for their fans and their live shows. Like their self titled record, not much is known of the tracks that were left off the record other than at least 6 songs were not included on Backspacer. At least one of those songs was included on the bands next record. Other known songs are “Santa Cruz”, “Santa God”, and the McCready sung “Turning Mist”. Hmm.. Seems the band is saving these tracks for something My favorite tracks are “Gonna See My Friend”, “The Fixer”, “Amongst The Waves”, “Unthought Known”, “Force of Nature”, “The End”. If you like Ben Harper, Mad Season, Mother Love Bone, Soundgarden, Brad, X, Foo Fighters, Candlebox, Hater, The Rockfords, U2, The Knack, Guided By Voices, The Police, Buzzcocks, Bruce Springsteen, The Kinks, R.E.M., Split Enz, Ted Leo and The Pharmacists, Skin Yard, Ramones, Joe Strummer, The Rolling Stones, Oasis, Buffalo Tom, Devo, Temple of the Dog, My Morning Jacket, Neil Young, Counting Crows, Soul Asylum, Our Lady Peace, The Who, Kansas, Van Halen, John Doe, Three Fish, or Wellwater Conspiracy you will love this record.

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