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creampuffqueen · 4 years

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Just Like This | Chapter One

Summary: Rayla and Callum have been best friends since elementary school. Now, years later, Rayla is discovering new feelings for her best friend. The only problem: she's about 99% sure he doesn't think of her in the same way. Not willing to risk their friendship, Rayla continues to hide her feelings for Callum. How long until the truth comes out?

a/n: Hey everyone! Here it is, the greatly anticipated Rayllum high school au! Please please please reblog this, because Tumblr won't show this post in the main tags due to an affiliate link! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 3372

Warnings: Language

Read on Ao3

~~~~

Sunday, September 30th, 2020

Katolis Supermarket, 5:31 PM

“Who wrote this list?” Rayla complained loudly, stalking behind Callum at the grocery store, shaking the piece of paper in his face. Her fellow sophomore was pushing a cart around, eternally focused on the task ahead.

“Well, Claudia suggested it, but everyone else added on,” Callum replied, not even looking at her. Stopping in the middle of the isle, he grabbed a 12-pack of soda and loaded it in the cart. “What’s next?”

Looking over the extensive list again, Rayla frowned. “Uh, it says… ‘those little animal cookie things with sprinkles, you know the ones’.”

Callum finally turned to look at her, a wide grin on his face as they both said “Soren,” in unison.

“Jinx,” Rayla giggled, “You owe me a soda.”

“Okay… just take one from the pack when we get home?”

Both teenagers continued through the store, Rayla getting bored of walking and hanging off the front of the cart, laughing as Callum made a big deal of struggling to push them around.

She supposed they should be hurrying. Evening was approaching quickly, and soon all their friends would be over at Callum’s place to study. Callum had dragged her off to the grocery store to get snacks for their cram session, considering she lived only a street over and had a car.

“We’re all going to be sick by the end of the night,” Rayla sighed, loading more snacks into the cart.

“Well, at least we’ll be awake,” Callum, ever cheerful, turned his head around to grin at her.

At his smile, Rayla felt her heart give a small wayward flutter, though she squished it down quickly. Tonight was important; she needed to pass this test to keep her grade up, and it wouldn’t help if she spent the entire night mulling over how cute her best friend’s smile looked.

“Yeah,” She chuckled, trying to pull herself back to the present. Keep it together, Rayla.

They got their unhealthy amount of junk food, collectively winced at the price, bought it anyway, and set about loading it in the backseat of Rayla’s car.

In no time at all Rayla was driving, Callum reclining in the passenger seat. With the radio cranked up, neither felt the need to talk, content to sit in the comfortable silence.

It was hard to believe that they’d been friends for eight years now. Rayla could still remember the first time they met like it was yesterday.

She was eight years old, in second grade, having just moved to a new school after her parents left on a military tour and she went to live with her uncles. Her first day of school had gone off without a hitch.

That is, until she met Callum at recess.

Content to play by herself, Rayla had been making use of the free time by pretending to build a fort under the slide. While pretending to hammer in nails, she noticed a small group of kids nearby. Two boys and a girl.

While she couldn’t make out all the words, the body language she saw was more than enough. The bigger boy, a head of blond hair, was pointing at the smaller, brown-haired boy, and laughing. The girl, black hair tied in two pigtail braids, was looking between them, unsure of what to do.

Curious eight-year-old Rayla snuck up, for she’d always been good at sneaking, and listened in on the conversation.

“Soren, shut up, he’s going to cry!” The girl said.

“Oh, so little Callum’s a crybaby now?” The boy, Soren, taunted.

“I’m not a crybaby, Soren!” The other boy shouted, though he couldn’t hide the sniffle at the end of his sentence.

“Oooh, Callum’s crying! Who’s gonna help him, his dad? Oh wait-”

Soren didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Well, she thought as she sat in the principal’s office twenty minutes later, Runaan will be happy to know that I’m learning something in my karate class.

All four kids were in the office, sitting in chairs in front of the desk. Callum and the other girl, Claudia, were both still sniffling from residual tears. Soren, fresh from the nurse’s office, was holding an ice pack over a rapidly blackening eye.

The door opened, and in came the principal, shaking her head with a sigh.

“You three again?”

“We didn’t do anything!” Soren shouted, voice whistling through the new gap in his teeth. Oh yeah, she’d knocked a tooth out as well. “She started it!”

“Well you were being really mean to that other kid!” Rayla protested. She and Soren glared at each other from their respective chairs, accusatory fingers pointed straight out.

“I wasn’t being mean, I was just joking!” Soren explained, “Callum’s my friend!”

“Well Soren, what you said was really mean-” Claudia interjected, but the boy, who Rayla had learned was her brother, interrupted.

“Callum, you know I was joking, right?”

“Well…” Soren’s face fell as Callum dropped his gaze to his lap. “It did kind of hurt my feelings, Soren…”

“Wait, you’re friends?” Rayla exclaimed, glancing curiously between both boys. “I thought he was bullying you! And my parents and uncles always said you have to stand up to bullies and-”

“I’m not a bully!” Soren shouted. Voices began to rise between them again, and the principal was forced to interject.

“All of you, quiet down. I’m going to talk with you each individually, and we’ll see what happens then. Callum, come with me. The rest of you: play nice.”

In the end, Rayla got suspended for two days for fighting, and Soren got one day for bullying. Despite the massive lecture Runaan and Ethari subjected her to, Rayla couldn’t help but feel like she’d done the right thing in the end.

When she returned to school, she was surprised to find Callum approach her at recess, a little paper bag clutched shyly in his hands.

“Sorry my friends and I got you in trouble,” He said, passing the bag to her. Opening it, Rayla’s face split into a huge grin at the sight of two tart-things waiting for her, filled with jelly.

“Soren’s usually pretty nice,” Callum continued, “But he doesn’t know when to stop talking. If you hadn’t stepped in, he would have said something mean without thinking, I’m sure. So you kind of helped both of us, in a way.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome, I guess. And thanks for the tarts.”

She was about to turn away and enjoy her spoils, but then Callum kept talking.

“Do you want to come play with us? Me and Claudia are pretending to do magic, and Soren’s a knight. You can do magic with us, if you want.”

Well, this game was certainly right up her alley. “I’ll play,” Rayla conceded, “But only if I get to be an elf.”

Callum grinned broadly, pointing to where the two siblings were playing. “Of course.”

~~~~

“The snacks are here!” Rayla called into the house, arms laden with shopping bags. Callum shut the door behind them, similarly burdened with the case of soda.

The pounding of feet sounded overhead, and several heads poked over the stairwell to glimpse the pair in the kitchen. “Finally!” Soren cheered, racing downstairs to try and rifle through the bags Rayla was carrying.

“Not yet, you lump,” Rayla scolded, pushing past the senior boy, “We’ve got to get upstairs at least.”

“Thanks for going to get snacks,” Claudia called, and her thanks was echoed by the other kids there. Callum and Rayla both shrugged, and made their way upstairs to the game room, where they’d all be studying.

Sitting on the various bean bag chairs and couches, the rest of the study group cheered when the food and drinks arrived. Andromeda, Callisto, Ram, Skor, and Marcos all leapt up to snatch the snacks they wanted. When everyone was sitting again, food in hand, Callum gave a dramatic clearing of his throat, turning all the heads in the room towards him.

“So, uh, thanks for coming over. Hopefully we can all actually get some studying done, since, you know, that’s what we’re here for.” He fixed a firm glance on the two couples in the room. “Ground rules: no making out in my house, don’t be super messy, and also please actually study. Soren, no idea what you’re doing here since you’ve already taken this history class, but okay.”

The older boy shrugged, taking a big gulp of his soda. “Moral support. A welcome distraction.”

Callum clapped his hands together once. “Okay then. I actually made a schedule for this, and if we follow it, we can cover all of the sections by… midnight, I think. 11 pm if we work really fast.”

“You made a schedule for studying?” Callisto asked in disbelief. Andromeda laughed, throwing an arm over her partner’s shoulder.

“Yes, I made a schedule for studying, I think it’s going to be very helpful!” Callum defended, crossing his arms over his chest. Even talking with the other two people, his green eyes somehow still managed to find Rayla’s.

She met his gaze, just for a second, heart pounding, before she looked away again. “Well, guys, if Callum wants to make a study schedule, good for him. Let’s just get started; I really need to pass this test.”

“Since when have you been worried about grades, Rayla?” Skor snorted, reclining in a beanbag chair, dumping spicy chips into his mouth.

“Since I’m in four extracurriculars and if I don’t pass, I don’t play.”

“Try-hard,” Soren coughed from his seat. Rayla just flashed him her middle finger, eliciting wild laughter from the rest of the room.

“Guys,” Callum whined, “I’m trying to be productive-”

“Okay, let’s start,” Claudia said, placing a gentle hand on Callum’s arm. It took everything Rayla had not to glare at the other girl, biting back the unwarranted flash of jealousy.

That’s all in the past. We figured it out.

Usually, she could forget just how close Callum was with Soren and Claudia. But then, something like this would happen, and she’d be reminded that before he met her, it was the siblings who were his best friends.

Having known them his whole life, it was no surprise that he’d developed a massive crush on Claudia in middle school. And he never shut up about it.

His confession at the end of seventh grade had very nearly torn their friend group to shreds. He wanted to ask her to the end of year dance, and when Claudia accepted he was ecstatic. Rayla had been happy for him, and just hoped that when they started dating, they wouldn’t be weird about it and make her and Soren uncomfortable.

But as it turned out, Claudia only thought of Callum as a friend. When she told him, Callum was crushed.

Rayla could still remember opening up her front door to see her best friend standing there, tears streaking down his face.

“Rayla, I just- I can’t believe how stupid I am-”

She pulled him into a fierce hug, and didn’t relinquish her grip on him until his mother came to pick him up. At school the next day, nobody could stop her wrath as she stalked up to Claudia and demanded answers.

“How could you?! You know how Callum feels about you, and you led him on anyway!” Rayla shouted.

“I didn’t want to hurt his feelings!” Claudia insisted, “And I do know how he feels and I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea-”

“No, I know what flirting looks like, and you led him on! He believed that you felt the same way!”

Claudia looked on the verge of tears, and some sick part of Rayla was glad for it. Let her feel bad for her actions, let her feel the same way Callum was feeling.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. I just… I don’t see Callum in that way.”

“Then why’d you keep flirting with him?” Rayla’s voice was dangerously low. Their shouting match had attracted a small audience in the school cafeteria.

“I…” She was at a loss for words.

“You know what?” Rayla snapped, “Save it for someone who cares. Explain yourself to Callum, not me. It’s him who needs the apology.”

The next few weeks were tense. Hardly any of them spoke to each other. Even though Soren was in high school and had nothing to do with the drama, he still sided with his sister, like Rayla knew he would.

Things worked out. Slowly, but surely, they worked out. But not without a lot of tears from everyone involved, a lot of yelling, a lot of accusations. Things worked out.

But even after Claudia and Callum were on speaking terms again, he decided to ditch the dance. Rayla, who never was going in the first place, was more than happy to offer up her couch for a night of movie watching and junk food eating. And sure, Claudia’s Instagram photos were cute, but for Rayla, nothing could beat the fun she was having with her best friend, right here.

Rayla was pretty sure that was when she’d started to fall in love with him. Or, more accurately, when she realized that she already had fallen in love with him.

However, confessing your love to your best friend after a recent heartbreak seemed like a bad idea. So she kept it to herself.

Which, she supposed, was how she found herself here, three years later, still madly in love with her best friend who was none the wiser, getting jealous over a relationship she both knew was purely innocent and also she had no claim over anyway.

Cool, Rayla, very cool.

Shoving down her stupid feelings, Rayla listened as Callum went over his plan for the evening. Review through chapter 2, take a 15 minute break, review through chapter 4, continue pattern until they got through all the chapters they needed.

The plan was met with a loud groan of complaint from Soren’s end. “Callum, why are you even doing this? You literally have a photographic memory.”

“Well, you guys don’t, so really I’m helping all of you!”

“I mean…” Rayla snorted, “Soren does have a point. Why are you so worried about studying, Callum?”

The teenage boy scratched at his neck awkwardly. “Well, uh, it’s kind of embarrassing, but… I’ve only skimmed for answers this entire time. I need to actually read the passages to remember it.”

Rayla just rolled her eyes. “Callum. Everyone on earth just skims for answers. We know you’re all goody two-shoes, teacher’s pet, but chill. You’re going to be fine.”

“How are you so chill, Rayla?” Callum demanded, “Weren’t you just freaking out, like, two seconds ago? Hello, Miss I’m-in-every-sport-imaginable?”

“Changing the subject!” Rayla declared loudly, “Open up the textbook, Callum!”

~~~~

“Time check,” Ram moaned from where his face was pressed into one of the beanbag chairs, “How much longer?”

“We’re at-” Callum attempted to respond, but was cut off by a yawn.

“Chapter six?” Rayla asked, though she wasn’t too sure herself. All the words were beginning to jumble together on the pages. At some point her notecards had gotten mixed up, and random dates and events were scattered all over the room.

“No, the time,” Ram complained. The other boy sat up, brushing his shaggy white hair from his eyes. “What time is it? My curfew is 11:30.”

Callisto grabbed their phone and took a glance. “11:15.”

“Ok, let’s review,” Callum suggested. However, the entire room gave a loud groan of complaint.

“My brain is melting!” Soren cried, dramatically tossing his head into Marcos’s lap. His boyfriend rolled his eyes at his antics, though he threaded his fingers through the other boy’s blond hair.

“Soren, you don’t have to take this test tomorrow!” Claudia snapped, “Don’t start whining!” The girl looked almost ready to start pulling her hair out.

“Alright,” Andromeda sighed, “My mom’s calling; she’s probably here to pick me up. Thanks for this, Callum. If I find a quizlet I’ll send it in the groupchat, okay?”

“Yes!” Skor cheered, “Quizlet is my lifesaver!”

“Pass me some Doritos, Rayla,” Callum muttered in quiet defeat. Rayla hummed in agreement, grabbing the chip bag from the pile of snacks nearby. Her friend was so tired that he didn’t even complain when she took a couple for herself.

One by one, the room began to empty. Callisto’s dad came to pick them up, Ram agreed to drive Skor home, and Claudia, Soren, and Marcos piled into Soren’s little car to drive off into the night.

That just left Rayla. And Callum. Alone.

“Place is a mess,” Callum sighed, taking in all the damage. Although they’d started out pretty clean, as the night wore on everyone got lazier and started just piling the trash where they were sitting. Crumbs spilled over the carpet, and empty soda cans rolled about.

“Let me help clean,” Rayla offered, “I mean, some of the mess is mine.” She gestured to the notecards spilled everywhere. Her mind was a bit fuzzy from exhaustion, but she was pretty sure she and Soren had started throwing them at each other at one point.

“No, it’s fine-” Callum sputtered, but Rayla just rolled her eyes.

“Let me help. Then we can both go to bed and you won’t get in trouble for the mess.” She left no room for argument, and started gathering up all the garbage and stuffing it in the empty grocery bags.

They worked in companionable silence, just tidying up the room. Rayla knew his house well enough to know where everything went, and tossed out all the garbage and swept up the lingering crumbs. Soon enough, the room looked nearly spotless again.

“See, fast!” Rayla chuckled. She glanced at her phone. “Just in time, too. Runaan’s asking where I am.”

Callum surprised her with a sudden hug, catching her off guard for a moment before she returned it, trying to calm her fluttering heart.

It’s just a hug. Friends hug all the time, don’t get all excited.

“Thanks for coming,” Callum said, a tiny bit breathlessly, “I know you were worried about the test and I wanted to help, sorry it got kind of out of hand.”

“You… organized this all… for me?” Rayla hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Well, yeah,” He laughed, “Even though you probably didn’t need it. You know all the material really well.”

“Only thanks to you, and you know that,” Giving him a friendly punch to the shoulder, Rayla couldn’t contain her grin. “I do feel better prepared, though. I’ll pass. If my brain doesn’t turn to mush first.”

“You’ll ace it,” Callum assured her, “I’m sure of it.”

His green eyes were so bright. And his smile so genuine. Rayla returned it, albeit with less enthusiasm. “Thanks.” Her voice sounded stupidly high-pitched, even to her.

He held her gaze for another long moment before glancing down, at the buzzing phone in her hand that she hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in staring. “You should go. Get some sleep for the test tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rayla breathed, “You too. I’ll see in English tomorrow.”

It was an effort to leave the room. To walk down the stairs, quietly so she wouldn’t wake his parents, and out the front door. To open up her door and get in the car, turn the key in the ignition.

The entire street was silent. That’s how it always was, she supposed. The first to arrive and the last to leave. A glance up told her Callum was staring out his bedroom window at her, watching her leave.

With a heavy sigh, Rayla put the car in reverse. Pulled out of the driveway.

She wasn’t naive. Callum had always been big on physical contact, and it had never meant anything more than he cared. She wasn’t willing to put her heart on the line like that, not when she was sure he didn’t like her that way.

Rayla was a risk taker. Always had been. But this? To risk the relationship she already had with her best friend? That was one risk she would never be willing to take.

~~~~

a/n: Poor Rayla! I would like to apologize to everyone in advance; the pining is not going to get better for a LONG TIME

Tag List: (comment to be added or removed)

@hipster-rapunzel

#the dragon prince #tdp #mal writes stuff #rayllum #rayla x callum

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adultswim2021 · 3 years

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Ephemera Week (2002)

I really wonder how effectively I’ll be able to do this in 2003. In 2003, Adult Swim started doing the black and white text bumps, where they give max sass and NO EFFS (fucks), so every week had unique content. I definitely don’t have the resources to catalogue every bumper or even come up with a decent “best of”. Ephemera Corner 2003 may look very different. To quote my good friend Zorak, “Brak, do you ever think about the future?”. To this I say, yes. Yes, Zorak, I do.

BROADCAST ANOMALIES AND SPECIAL NIGHTS!

Adult Swim Action (and other stuff) | February 23, 2002

February 23rd was the first installment of Adult Swim Action. Up to this point, Adult Swim aired a block of mostly comedy capped off with Cowyboy Bebop. This was the first formal separation of Action and Comedy. I remember the bitter rivalry between the two fandoms on various message boards I posted on. It really did seem like a venn diagram with almost no overlap; action fans hated the comedy shows (maybe they liked one or two but hated the rest) and the same went for the comedy fans, except most of the comedy fans I knew were devout anime haters.

At the height of my anime animosity an internet ex-friend of mine started a message board called ANIME SUCKS. It was an experience I’ll always remember fondly. At it’s peak it had over 1000 members. All but about a dozen of those members were actually ANGRY anime fans who just stumbled on the board and were FURIOUS at us for being anti-anime, and we’d just act like obtuse dickheads about it. Like, we’d act stupider than they were and just wind them up.

We developed a few tricks to really set somebody off. For example: they’d write an impassioned defense of anime as an art form, and say something like “it’s not all like Pokemon or Dragonball Z”, to which we’d reply “actually those are the only two animes I like”. This really got them. There was a special thrill to just replying “miyazaki is an idiot” to a guy’s 6-paragraph essay about why anime was “good, actually”, prompting an even longer response. It was really fun! We didn’t have to harass people online, they’d just come to us to get abused. I’ve never seen bait get taken so effortlessly. One day that guy just closed the message board, locked everyone out, and disappeared forever.

That was some aside, huh? Anyway, the arrival of Adult Swim Action meant that Adult Swim stopped airing the Thursday night repeats of Adult Swim Comedy, which was a shame. It Also meant Adult Swim’s Sunday night had an extra hour to fill, which they did with Rocky & Bullwinkle and the Popeye Show. People complained. I didn’t. Vintage animation is just a different take on the “adult” label. Besides, I was used to tuning out by 12AM anyway, so even if I didn’t like those shows (I did!) I wasn’t missing anything, really. But yes, if it were a full hour of Space Ghost repeats I guess that would’ve been better.

The Lewis Lectures | May 19, 2002 - 12:45 AM

A repeat of Lewis Lectures? IT HAPPENED! But what was so different about this broadcast of Lewis Lectures? Well, they accidentally scrambled the SAP audio with the default English audio, causing the Spanish soundtrack to play in tandem with the English one. It was bloody well fucked mate. This is simply no longer England.

I remember becoming an Adult Swim completist and taping this, considering it some kind of void in my collection. Part of me wishes I saved the recording, so I could combine it with the inferior YouTube rip currently up and have a closer-to-pristine copy than the one that’s available. But also, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THIS IS LEWIS LECTURES WE ARE TALKING ABOUT. How much pain can I inflict on myself?

Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law Mini-Marathon | September 15, 2002 - 11:00 PM

On this night they aired a little Harvey Birdman marathon of the 4 episodes. This was kinda baffling, as Birdman had 6 episodes to its name and they’d been repeated into the ground by this point. I guess it goes to show that Adult Swim kinda considered Birdman to be their prestige program. I’m hard-pressed to call any one Adult Swim show “smart” in a way that’s apparent on a shallow level. Birdman is set in a courtroom, animated the most competently out of all their other shows, and involved cultural references in a showy way. Like, Space Ghost having Dave Willis absurdly shout “UP THE CHAIN” in the background of a Space Ghost episode is almost just a weird easter egg. But Birdman? Birdman was name-dropping Hanna Barbera characters the same way Frasier would talk about whatever gay shit Frasier talked about.

They aired The Dabba Don, Shaggy Busted, Shoyu Weenie, Very Personal Injury in that order. I would’ve swapped Shaggy and Shoyu and for Bannon Custody Battle and Death by Chocolate, but that’s just me, I guess.

vimeo

Adult Swim New Years Bash hosted by Carl and Brak | December 31, 2002 - 11:00 PM

Adult Swim officially ended 2002 with this: a night hosted by Carl and Brak in Times Square, watching the ball drop (which was FREAKING MEATWAD!!!!). I remember this night fondly. Unfortunately I can’t find the whole thing, but here’s a single segment I found on vimeo to give you some idea. I think I had it up at one point and Turner very annoyingly had it taken down.

I used to have this massive physical media collection; stuff on VHS and DVD and DVD-R that was meticulously catalogued. I ditched a lot of it in favor of digitizing stuff like this, eternally keeping it on hard drives that I meant to back up but never did. It seems more convenient, but it isn’t. If this were 2003 and I needed to show you this, I would be able to retrieve it from one of my many shelves. I might still have this, but would have no idea where to look for it and it would probably involve me getting in my car and going out to my storage unit and pulling every single box out. I turned it into ones an zeros and stuck it on a nondescript black box that could very well be dead. And now it’s not even on YouTube. Sad? Sure, it’s sad.

PEAK EPHEMERA

(phrase stolen from Grifthorse podcast)

Hey, here are some videos I found on YouTube in case you wanna go down a wormhole of watching old Adult Swim commercial breaks. May the gods of posterity keep them online forever:

February 4, 2002

Spring 2002

June 16, 2002

June 30, 2002

July 27, 2002

August 2002

November 17, 2002

November/December 2002

MAIL BAG:

This ends EPHEMERA WEEK. We’ll do actual episodes soon!

What's the scariest thing you seen on adult swim?

I don’t know if I have a real answer for this. I don’t think I actually get scared by stuff in movies or TV shows. I can’t even come up with a funny answer. Remember the end of that Metalocalypse episode where the little sick girl is dead and her eyes turn into maggots and you hear that screechy voice was like I’M DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!!! I’ll just go with that even though it made me laugh really hard

Ever watch Limmy's Show

I am content just being vaguely aware of Limmy (no, I never watched his show. Seems good).

Please don't do such a big mailbag. I couldn't believe how many r-words wrote inane bullshit to you. Let keep this blog about the real stars: Master Shake, Space Ghost, Brak, Zorak, Meatwad, Frylock, Debbie, Black Debbie, Carl, Sparks, Stormy, Hesh, Moltar, Harvery Birdman Captain Murphy, Dr. Quinn, Paula, Marco, Brendon, Jason, Melissa, The Mooninites, the Plutonians, Peanut, Coach Mc Gurk, Mentok the Mindtaker, Virjay, Antoin, Colby, Trotter, Adair WE ARE THE UPRIGHT CITIZENS BRIGADE :)

I can’t believe this IDIOT doesn’t get that by typing such a long message he very IDIOTICALLY contributed to the length of the Maili Bag... LMFAO, what a IDIOT

This is maybe the funniest blog on tumblr. You really think these nasty little cartoons are special, huh?

Hey than-- oh :( Yeah, I guess so :(

would you like master shake if he did the whole thing

I’m sorry what

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #ephemera

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plaidbooks · 4 years

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Everyone Deserves Love chapter 7 part 1

A/N: So, this chapter got a little bit away from me. And instead of posting all 14k words in one part, I’m splitting it into two parts (I’ll post part 2 tomorrow, though, instead of making you wait a week!) This first part is a lot of tension and even more angst! Their first real fight! And a cliffhanger? Wowza! I also got to make up a lot of Barba’s background in this chapter, so bear with me. Little bit of Spanish that’s also translated right then. According to my friend, Adrian, there’s no “direct translation for motherfucker into Spanish which is why it’s that long.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: mentions of cheating, minor character death, screaming/yelling

Words: 7k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba (lemme know if you want to be tagged!)

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Thursday, April 30th. 10:05am

Ever since the night they read about Marco Sorrel, Devon had pushed to train Barba harder in his self-defense training, especially with weapons. For the past three weeks, she taught him to disarm an assailant armed with first a knife—still sheathed—and then her gun, safety on. Barba hadn’t seemed too thrilled about the idea but agreed that it was necessary. And while Devon had to admit that he was pretty good in the training, that meant nothing when it came to the real thing. She had met many an agent who had excelled in training, and then froze in the field, leading to injuries or worse. Plus, the fact that it had been three weeks with no signs of any Aces made Devon uneasy. Very uneasy. She was sleeping less and less, hardly eating, and jumping at every sound. Barba, being his normal, collected self, didn’t seem disturbed by the news; he simply went about his day, doing arraignments, trials, meetings, and whatever the hell else he had to do. Which was a good thing, Devon supposed; it would make her job harder if they were both anxious.

Today was one of those days that was going to drag on forever, Devon knew. They had gotten to the courthouse early, skipping Barba’s office entirely, doing arraignments until almost noon. They then made it to his office for an early lunch, knowing that Barba would be in court for the rest of the day. Not that Devon was complaining; being stuck in the courtroom wasn’t all that bad, even though Barba had mentioned how boring it must be to sit in the gallery all day. But in all honesty, it was a nice break for Devon. She was still aware of people coming in and out, of course, but for the most part, once a trial started, everyone settled in. She didn’t have to worry too much about an attack once in court. And only once had a defendant gotten out of hand. But once he started shouting, the bailiff was on him, dragging him out, before Devon had fully blocked off his path to Barba. She knew he wasn’t in the Aces, but she was still going to protect the man.

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. It is pretty personal,” Barba commented, bringing Devon’s mind back to the present. They were just finishing lunch in his office, relaxing before the rush to court. She suddenly realized that he had asked her a question.

“I’m sorry, I was thinking about stuff. What’d you ask?”

Barba sighed. “We were talking about, uh, past relationships. I asked how your last relationship ended.” Devon remembered now; they were talking about some cases that they both did with SVU, just a walk down memory lane over food. Barba had brought up the Muñoz case, which led to him talking about Yelina. Devon could tell by how his face softened when he spoke of her that she held a special place in his heart. After asking he agreed that yes, while he had flings and relationships since, Yelina was his first true love. After she left him for his best friend, he had found a couple other partners, but none that had gotten as close to him as her. “You always remember your first,” he had said.

Devon smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Does she lie to him? Tell him that she’s had a couple relationships and leave it at that? “I’ve, um…I’ve never really been in a relationship, per se.”

Barba put down his takeout container at that, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? I thought guys would be all over you.”

She laughed his comment away, flattered. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; I’ve been, uh, intimate with people before,”—her face flushed. Why was she telling him this?—“but I’m just not the, uh, relationship type, I guess.” Why were they talking about this again? Though, she knew if she wanted to stop, she’d only have to say so. But she was curious about Barba; he was a very private man. She was interested—and a wee bit excited—that he even wanted to open up about this side of him. If that meant that she had to do the same, then so be it.

After a few moments of silence, Barba thinking through his words, he finally asked, “but haven’t you ever wanted to come home to someone?” It was an innocent enough question, but it filled Devon with such a strong sense of yearning. Of course, she did. Who didn’t want someone who would understand them, who would love them unconditionally?

“I mean, it would be nice, yes,” she kept her voice even, neutral. “But I don’t have the time, not with my job. Plus, how would someone react to something like this?” she gestured broadly. “I was out of the state for three years, then home for a week before moving in with a complete stranger, a man…no offense—”

“None taken—”

“--so, how would dating even work when I’m not even home or when I’m sleeping at someone else’s house?” Devon finished, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. She didn’t mean to get so emotional, so personal with the answer. But she was trying to make him understand.

He thought for a while, stabbing at his chicken. “I guess it would be tough with a job like that.” He took a piece out, chewed thoughtfully. “My last relationship ended because I was never home. I put my work first, so she found her home in someone else’s bed.”

Devon sat there, dumbfounded. Someone cheated on him? “What a bitch,” she mumbled. He stifled a chuckle and Devon realized she said that out loud. “Whoops,” she said, hand flying to her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was years ago; I’ve moved on,” he replied. Then, “The hardest part was returning the engagement ring.”

Devon’s heart hurt for the man. She couldn’t imagine being so in love, planning on being married to someone, and then to find out they were cheating. She couldn’t think of anything to say; she didn’t think saying sorry would help, but she didn’t want to ask any more probing questions.

“Do you ever plan on getting married?” Barba asked, staring at the desk.

The question caught Devon off-guard; she never really thought about it before. Maybe when she was a kid, as a last-ditch effort to escape her parents. But not anytime recently. “I’m not sure, really. I’ve never considered it…maybe if I met the right person, though I think I’d like to retire before hand. And I could not imagine having a wedding—too expensive. And rings are so old-fashioned and over-rated; have you seen the new movement of people proposing with beautiful, intricate knives?” She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself. Barba, to his credit, looked up from the desk, smiling and laughing at Devon’s increasingly ridiculous marriage proposals, awkwardness and past pain soon forgotten.

“Mr. Barba?” Carmen said, sticking her head into his office, causing them both to stop their frivolous talk. “Mr. Thompson and Mr. Buchanan are here to see you.”

“There goes the fun,” Barba mumbled. Devon grinned, but moved to stand behind him, bodyguard-style, her normal place by his side.

Courthouse

Thursday, April 30th. 7:08pm

Court had lasted much longer than either of them had thought; the Judge was intent on finishing the trial today, letting tomorrow morning be for closing arguments and then letting the jury deliberate.

“I need to head back to my office; I forgot a file,” Barba had said as he gathered his things. Odd, Barba never forgot anything; man’s head was a steel trap.

“No problem. I got nowhere to be tonight. You know that we’re still training, though, right? Staying here late doesn’t get you out of it.”

Barba sighed. As much as he knew training was important, his body was still sore from where she hit him, blocking an attack, the night before. “Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t worry; this will all be over soon enough,” Devon commented. It was true; during the trial, Devon’s phone had gone off with an update text from Olivia. 47 Aces were now sitting in jail. 18 reported left, though 5 of those 18 were reportedly no longer in New York. Once they learned that most of the police force were after them, they had picked up and left. So, in reality, unlucky 13 were left active in New York…including Marco Sorrel, who no one seemed able to pinpoint. If Devon was free to move throughout the city, she knew she could track him down. But she had to trust in the NYPD’s abilities.

Barba was elated at the news—not having to worry about being shot was a weight off his shoulders—but at the same time, he felt upset at the thought of Devon moving out, moving on with her life. He had grown accustomed to her being there; her laugh, her banter, her presence. He didn’t know if they would remain in contact after this was over. He realized that he didn’t want to lose her. And after their talk this morning, he felt…no, he didn’t want to admit it, not to himself, or to anyone else.

They made it to the courthouse elevator, no one else in sight, and started going down to the ground floor. Barba made up his mind; he had to ask, to know if there was any chance of them having…something after the Aces were in jail. “You know, about that…I mean, after this is all over….” Barba started. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped off, Devon first and Barba right on her heels. The words died in his throat as he felt someone grab him roughly from behind, the cold steel of a gun pushing against his head.

Devon had heard his case fall from his hands, turned and had her gun up, aiming right over Barba’s shoulder before her brain had a chance to catch up. How’d I miss him? she thought, chiding herself. Then, her mind went blank, instincts and training kicking in, no room for any other thoughts. The elevator doors closed behind them, effectively pinning Barba and the man against the wall, facing Devon. Devon locked eyes with the man, ignoring Barba’s frightened look, and for a moment she was in a brownstone, looking at Nathan Woods. But she blinked again, and it was a Hispanic man, gun to Barba’s head, tattoo on his neck.

“Drop your gun, or I splatter this bastard’s brains all over the hallway,” Marco Sorrel said. She could feel Barba’s eyes on her, but she stayed focused on Marco, watching his trigger finger, pushing down the panic that was making her heart race.

“Counteroffer; you drop your gun or you’re dead before you pull the trigger,” Devon replied. She held her gun steady despite her rapid pulse, and started shifting her position slowly to the side, taking such small steps, she hoped Marco didn’t notice. This could end one of two ways, and she was deciding how best to approach it.

“Look, la loca es la primera (crazy bitch), I’m not afraid to die. But I’m taking this el cara e verga es el segundo (motherfucker) with me,” he dropped his voice, talking into Barba’s ear, barely loud enough for Devon to hear, “I hope you’ve made peace with whatever God you believe in.”

Devon felt the floor drop out from under her; she made up her mind in that moment. She took another step to the left, gaining a clear shot. She took it, squeezing the trigger. It was like watching a scene in slow motion. One moment, Marco had a gun to Barba’s head. Barba looked terrified, frozen in place. Then, a hole appeared between Marco’s eyes; his head snapped back and red splattered the elevator doors. His body hit the doors, and he slid down until he was slumped against them, gun clattering to the floor. Barba had ducked from the loud gunshot; he stood slowly, shakily, and turned to look at him while Devon slowly lowered her gun. She holstered it, putting the safety on—she knew she’d be turning it over tonight.

People started showing up then; Devon wasn’t sure where they were coming from. But they must have heard the gunshot, the hallways and curved ceiling making a perfect echo chamber. She stepped up to Barba, who was still looking at Marco’s dead body. She reached a hand out to him, saw her hand shaking slightly, clenched it into a fist and dropped it.

“Hey, are you alright? Are you hurt?” she asked, voice surprisingly steady for how shaky she was feeling.

Barba couldn’t take his eyes off the dead man, his face a little green. “You—you killed him. You just murdered a man.” He had whispered it, so matter-of-factly, voice dead.

The tone he had—or lack thereof--hit Devon like a physical blow. She reached out, hand not shaking this time, and took his hand, leading him a little down the hallway, putting the body behind him so that he was forced to look at Devon. That was almost worse; he looked rattled, shaking slightly, his green eyes wide. He yanked his hand out of her grip as if she had stung him.

“Uh, yes, I did…. You heard him; he was going to kill you in the next moment. I saw my shot and I took it; it was a good shoot,” she explained.

Barba had seen dead bodies in the morgue and in autopsy pictures before, but he had never seen someone killed, been close enough to feel the man’s weight fall off him. To fear, even for one moment, that he was the one who was shot. It felt like his brain was moving through sludge; he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It all had happened so fast; it was amazing how quick, how easy it was to kill someone.

“Police are taught to de-escalate a situation. You’re a damn negotiator, for fuck’s sake! You didn’t have to kill him.” Barba didn’t know where this anger came from, but it was a familiar emotion. He knew anger, so he wrapped himself in it like armor, let it protect his frazzled mind.

The rational side of Devon’s mind knew that this was simply a reaction to shock; when she was in the same situation 4 years ago, her reaction was to shut down. But anger, she knew, was also a very normal reaction to shock. Sadly, another reaction to someone yelling is to go on the defensive. And with all of her senses heightened, adrenaline coursing through her, that’s exactly what Devon did, replying, “yeah, I am a negotiator! And I know when a negotiation doesn’t work; I’ve seen enough hostages killed to know what it looks like. I was not going to let that happen to you.”

“He didn’t have to die, though! You know how to disarm perps!” he shot right back.

Devon shook her head, ran her hand through her hair in frustration. “I had no options, Barba. I hesitate, and you die! I shoot the hand with the gun, and there’s a damn good chance I hit you. Like I said, I saw my shot and I took it. Do I wish I didn’t have to kill him? Of course! But I will not apologize for doing my job.”

“That’s not good enough!” Barba yelled.

“Then what is, huh? What would you, a fucking ADA with apparently expert knowledge on hostage situations, have me do?” Devon answered, blood boiling.

Barba had no answer, so he let out an annoyed huff, and pushed past her. He made his way to one of the benches left outside a courtroom, intended for those waiting to go in, and sat down hard. He leaned his face into his hands, elbows on his knees. Devon took deep breaths through her nostrils, knowing that she needed to take a step back, to control this anger that seemed to stem from nowhere. And she needed to try and calm him down, too, whether he liked it or not. But first, she had to make a phone call.

The crowd that had gathered was staying well away from the body, and even further away from the two of them after their shouting match. She was sure that the police had already been called, but Devon still took out her phone and dialed Olivia’s cell, asking her to alert CSU and IAB. While it was true that the FBI had their own Internal Affairs, and Devon would have to talk to them, too, she was technically working for SVU at the moment, so IAB and 1PP would be involved. It was always tricky with them; they loved to remind her that she wasn’t an NYPD officer, but they also loved to throw her under the bus when they thought she fucked up. She had a grim curiosity about what policies they would take with her this time. Once she hung up with Liv, she figured she’d inform Barba.

Without moving closer, Devon spoke to the wall in front of her. “IAB is going to want to talk to you, too. You’re an eyewitness.” Barba sat in silence, no indication that he even heard her. Devon took another deep breath; she was going to have this conversation with him at some point, might as well be now while he wasn’t yelling.

“If you want someone else to protect you, I have no objections. I understand if you don’t trust me now,” she said softly. The words ripped a hole in her heart to say, but it was his right to have a choice, something he didn’t have when Liv shoved Devon onto him. Plus, she couldn’t get the image of his face after Marco was dead out of her mind: the fear, the anger, the betrayal. Like she was the worst person in the world.

Barba had a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind; they swirled, and he couldn’t seem to clear it. He knew he had to answer her tonight, so he finally said, more to the floor than to her, “I just want to go home for the night; get a good night’s rest. I…I need time to process all of this.”

Well, that was normal after having such a near-death experience, and he wasn’t giving her the boot quite yet. Though, she was waiting for the other shoe to drop; by tomorrow, he’d be done with her. Recognizing that the conversation was over, she thought about their sleeping arrangements. IAB wouldn’t allow her to stay with him tonight; it was against protocol. They could concoct a story about all of this, lie for each other. Her adrenaline was already wearing off, leaving her exhausted. But they had to wait for Olivia to get there, to deal with this situation.

Thankfully, they only had to wait another five minutes, though it felt like an eternity in silence. Olivia was somehow the first on the scene, the rest of SVU on her heels. The detectives started clearing the courthouse of spectators, while Liv came over to the agent and counselor. Devon took off her gun and knife, handing them over.

She took them but turned to Barba first. “There will be an unmarked car watching your place tonight. I think you should get a good night’s sleep before talking to officers tomorrow morning. I’ll give you a ride home tonight, and then come by tomorrow for your statement.” He gave her a stiff nod, then Olivia turned to Devon, sighing heavily. “IAB has instructed me to escort you to the hospital for a blood-alcohol test,”

“That’s normal—” Devon started, before Olivia cut her off.

“And then to place you under arrest until they investigate this further.” Ah, there it is, Devon thought.

She smiled grimly. “And when will that be?” Devon asked. Officers had up to 48 hours to report to IAB after an incident like this, and Devon was sure that they’d make her wait the whole time, incarcerated...if they counted her as an officer. They could potentially make her wait indefinitely. As shitty as that was, all she could think about was who would watch Barba tomorrow at work.

Liv shook her head. “I don’t know; they didn’t specify. Detective Rollins will escort you to the hospital, and then to the cage at SVU.” Better than Rikers, Devon thought ruefully. She glanced at Barba, trying to make sure he was alright, but he was still staring at the floor.

Olivia gave her a look full of concern, before nodding to Rollins. Devon placed her hands behind her back and Rollins cuffed her, looking upset that she was the one chosen to do so. She read her her rights as they left the courthouse. Barba finally looked up as she led her away, a tightness in his chest. Arrested for murder…arrested for saving his life.

Liv sat on the bench next to him. “Are you alright, Rafa?”

He pulled his eyes from Devon’s retreating form, looking at Olivia, her expression full of worry. “She saved my life yet again, but by killing someone. I’m...I’m not sure how to feel about it.” He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it could come to this, that she may have to shoot someone to protect him. But his life had almost always been painted in black and white; murder is bad, illegal. Sure, there were exceptions, but they were few and far in between. And even then, he always viewed justifiable homicide as a last resort. Was killing Marco a last resort?

Liv mulled over her thoughts for a while before replying, “I’ve known Devon for years; she wouldn’t shoot someone for no reason.”

Barba suddenly realized that she had no idea what happened here; Devon wasn’t allowed to tell her without having counsel with her, and Barba didn’t count since he was a witness. So, Barba gave her the broad strokes of what had happened, including Marco’s threat that had pushed Devon over the edge and their conversation afterwards. Liv almost stopped him—he shouldn’t be telling her or anyone besides IAB about this—but he wasn’t a trained officer, and he needed to tell someone about this. Might as well be her.

So, Liv listened in silence, nodding along with his tale. She sighed when he finished, saying, “look, Rafa, you know that I’m against murder as much as you are. But this sounds like a good shoot. She shot him not in self-defense, but in defense of you, which may be a stronger pull, especially for someone like Devon. Trust me, though, she’s not nearly as accepting of this outcome as she may seem.”

Barba took that into consideration; maybe killing a man was eating her up inside. He knew that she had shot people before, but he didn’t know if she had killed someone before. And all he had done was yell at her, blaming her for saving his life yet again. He felt ashamed that he couldn’t control himself, his emotions; he knew Devon at this point. She wasn’t some serial killer. She was his friend, and she was risking her life every day making sure he was safe. And now she was in jail.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Liv said, breaking through his thoughts. He picked up his briefcase on the way out, unable to stomach even glancing at the blood on the ground. They rode in silence, enraptured in their own thoughts; Olivia worrying over how IAB would handle this case—she knew that IAB wasn’t particularly fond of SVU’s relationship with the Federal agent—and Barba going over the whole scene in his mind over and over again, from the moment those elevator doors closed to Devon’s back as she was led out in cuffs. After saying their goodbyes, Barba headed into his building. He noticed the unmarked car parked in front, but it didn’t feel like a comfort, not like Devon’s presence felt. He opened the door and locked it behind him, arming the doorstop like she had shown him. His loft seemed so empty, so quiet. Grabbing the thickest book he could find, he checked every room for intruders; a mockery of how professional Devon usually conducted the search. Barba felt foolish doing it himself, book in hand, but he knew it must be done if he wanted any peace tonight; his blood was still rushing in his ears. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he slowly stripped off his jacket and looked at the time. 11:36pm. He knew there was no chance of sleep tonight, but he’d have to try. To hopefully help him sleep, he dug out his favorite bottle of scotch, pouring himself a glass. He had to sort out his mind if he was ever going to sleep, though the alcohol may help calm his nerves, too. Plus, he needed to figure out how tomorrow was going to play out. He’d never talked to IAB before, nor been an eyewitness to a crime…at least, not like this. For court, he had his bullet-proof question tree, his responses to whatever the opposition said written down and memorized. Now, though, he was the one on trial, and he had no idea what to say.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Friday, May 1st. 7:00am

Barba showered in the morning, after tossing and turning all night. He didn’t go to bed until after 1am, but even with how exhausted he was, not to mention slightly drunk, he could not sleep. He kept thinking about the look of conviction in Devon’s eyes as she pulled the trigger, Marco’s dead body, blood splattered everywhere, his anger and fear as he took out all that energy, all that adrenaline, on Devon. Every time he thought about that conversation, a fresh wave of shame washed over him. He knew that victims sometimes lashed out after something traumatic happened, but he wasn’t a victim…right? He never thought of himself as one; he was simply a marked man. But even he knew that was a bunch of crap.

He got a text sometime while in the shower from McCoy, telling him to take the day, and the weekend, off. First of all, he knew that IAB would want to interview Barba about the dead body found by the elevators last night. And second, he knew that Barba probably needed the time off to collect his thoughts after having such a close brush with death. True, McCoy knew the ADA well, knew that he could handle himself and could feasibly work if asked, but the DA knew it would be better to let Barba relax for a couple days.

Don’t worry, I got a continuous on all your cases. McCoy texted him.

Sighing, he got dressed in a suit, though not one of his expensive court suits—this was more of a “weekend” suit, as he liked to call them. Though, Devon loved to tease him that they didn’t look different. He tried to explain it once, about the different material, the different cuts in shape, but she only laughed harder. He came out of his room, mumbling a quiet, “morning,” then looked to the couch when there was no answer, finding it empty. Oh…right, he thought, missing her singsong, perky voice in the morning. Then he realized that that meant there was no coffee made yet.

As he moved in the kitchen. his phone went off, causing him to jump and almost dropped his mug; it was a message from Liv letting him know that IAB had pushed back the meeting and that she would update him with a time when she knew. She would be there in a bit for his statement, and the unmarked car would stay posted until further notice. At least that gave him some time to finalize what he wanted to say to Devon when…if he saw her. He had solidified his testimony that he would say to IAB. With nothing else to do, he sat in his armchair nervously, fiddling with a pen in his hands.

SVU Department

Friday, May 1st. 7:00am

Devon stared at the ceiling of SVU’s holding cell. Thankfully, she was its only occupant all night. Rollins had given her a pillow and a blanket and told her to try and get some sleep, but they both knew that that wasn’t happening. Instead, Devon counted the bars on the walls, did her normal workouts that she performed in Barba’s loft every morning, and thought about anything that wasn’t Barba’s face, full of fear—fear of Marco, or her?—from the night before. But as the time trickled by and night gave way to dawn, Devon was forced to confront last night’s events. She meant what she had said; she wasn’t sorry that she had killed Marco. If she had done nothing, if she had hesitated for even a second longer, there’d be two bodies in the morgue. She was pretty sure the Barba understood that, but she did not expect him to flip out like he did. Shock makes people lash out, she told herself. Though she wasn’t thrilled that she had killed someone, it wasn’t her first time, either. And Barba was right; in a perfect world, she would have been able to de-escalate the situation, even though she knew deep down that she only had the two options; kill or be killed. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself. She thought back to the fight with Barba; she had dealt with…troublesome victims before: she’d had people yell at her, take a swing at her, threaten her and everyone she loved. So, why was this different? Why did this hurt so much more? A thought in her mind caught her attention. She tried to ignore it, to squish it, but it remained. You love him. She shook her head—no, no! She didn’t, couldn’t. They only met a few months ago! This was just a crush, a superficial infatuation based on living in such close quarters...ignoring the fact that he was ridiculously handsome, smart, funny, caring.... Okay, she had to stop thinking about it. It would pass, it had to.

“Morning,” Fin greeted. Devon jumped, not hearing him approach; she was too wrapped in her thoughts. She sat up and saw that he held a coffee out to her. “Don’t tell anyone I gave you this.”

She took the coffee from him. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. She took a sip, letting it warm her; the cell was cold, despite the blanket. “So, what time is it?”

Fin checked his watch before answering, “seven. And bad news, IAB pushed your interview back. No official time yet,” Devon huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes; of course, they were going to make her sweat, waiting in a cell. Plus, it was Friday; they may make her wait all weekend. “Also, they told us to keep you in cuffs until you go into interrogation.”

“Ah, right. IAB: guilty until proven otherwise. Tucker still in charge?”

Fin smirked. “You think that asshole has anything better to do?”

Devon grinned, then took her seat on the bench that served as a bed, trying to calm her nerves. She sipped at her coffee but didn’t really taste it. Her mind was racing again; she wasn’t afraid of IAB, per se, but that wasn’t the only variable here. Tucker already had a deep dislike of Devon. And then there was also Barba’s statement. Was he still pissed at her? Would he throw her under the bus, tell IAB that she didn’t need to kill Marco? She honestly didn’t know, and that worried her most.

The day passed by slowly, but thankfully no other perp was added to the cage. She was only let out to use the restroom, and none of the detectives felt like making her wear the cuffs. Devon sat in silence, going over her testimony again and again, making sure she had an answer for everything. She was going to tell the truth, but IAB was good at twisting words and actions, and she wanted to be prepared. She replayed every moment from the night before…except for the fight with Barba. She knew she’d have to review it eventually, but she really didn’t have the strength after the sleepless night.

The detectives were all busy; Liv and Fin stopped by every now and again to check in, update her on IAB’s timetable and to see if she needed something. Technically, they weren’t allowed to talk about what had happened, even though Devon waived Miranda. It wasn’t until about 2pm that she had any real company. Detective Amaro came into the cage, bringing a plain bologna sandwich for Devon’s lunch. Government money at work.

“Thanks,” she said, sitting up. Amaro surprised her by taking a seat next to her.

“Mind if we talk a little bit? I feel like we haven’t really talked much,” he replied, handing her the sandwich. Devon unwrapped it, took a bite. Better than nothing, and her stomach was empty outside of shitty precinct coffee. It was true, though; besides bringing Barba in for cases, Devon hadn’t really been around SVU enough to really “meet” the new detectives. Not including the awkward hospital visit from the night before with Rollins.

“Uh, sure, as long as we don’t talk about last night; don’t want IAB coming down on your head, too. What’s on your mind?”

He held out his hand for her to shake. “Detective Nick Amaro. Transferred from narcotics. Been in SVU for a little over a year, but I don’t see myself doing anything else. Partnered first with Benson, and now Rollins. And trust me, I don’t need another reason to have IAB coming after me.”

Devon shook his hand, a little bemused that he was introducing himself. “Ah, Senior Special Agent Devon Motely. FBI for 20 years; started as negotiator and added on undercover. Don’t have a partner, but I do have a team, much like NYPD’s ESU. I trust them with my life, even if I don’t work with them as often as I’d like.”

Amaro sat for a moment, taking in her words. “I looked in your jacket, this is your third kill. Last two were clean, too.” He seemed a little nervous talking about her personal file but hid it well with a charming smile.

Third in the jacket, Devon mentally corrected, and that doesn’t include firefights, where it’s impossible to tell who shot whom. But that wasn’t something she was going to bring up, not now. Devon remembered the other two that were in her file, though. The first had haunted her for weeks afterwards, even if he did deserve it. The man was a bastard; trafficked young girls, even “tested” them out, to make sure they could perform. He had run when Devon confronted him, then started shooting once cornered. She just happened to get him first, total luck, and she knew it. Probably why she didn’t sleep for two weeks afterwards. The second one still hurt, even years later. It was a 22-year-old man—a kid, really—who was caught in a bad situation. He was abused, both physically and sexually, by his father since he was 13. Then one day, he snapped. Took a gun, went to his parent’s house. Devon was called in to try and de-escalate the situation. She got out of her car, and gunshots went off. The kid had shot both parents, then came out the front door just as Devon was rushing in. He had the gun facing down at the ground and didn’t raise it fast enough by the time he shot, hitting Devon in the hip. She reacted on instinct alone, shooting him in the stomach. He died in her arms, bled out before EMTs could get there. She still had nightmares about it, every time she looked at the scar on her hip. She was lucky; the bullet had gone clean through, hitting nothing. A one in a million shot.

“Devon?” Amaro asked, pulling Devon out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. I, uh, I have shot two people before Marco, correct,” she replied. “Wish I hadn’t, but things happen on the job. I’m sure you know that.”

Amaro nodded. “Yeah, I—I’ve taken some shots before, too.” He let out a breath. “Takes a toll after a while, huh?” Devon agreed. It came with the job, and therapy was a lifesaver. But some scars took longer to heal than others. “So, how did this one go down?”

Wait, was he trying to interrogate her? Come in as a friend and pry into the case? Or was Devon looking into it too much? She wasn’t sure, but she also didn’t know the guy.

“I think that Tucker would be pretty pissed if I talked to an SVU detective about this,” she deflected, keeping her voice light.

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to grill you or anything. But I agree; he already doesn’t care for me, anyways. Don’t need to give him more ammunition against me.”

“That’s something we have in common. You think they had to ‘push back’ this investigation because IAB is busy? CSU still processing info? Nah, Tucker hates my guts,” Devon chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“I think that’s just Tucker,” Amaro replied, smiling.

Just then, Fin walked up. Amaro stood to leave, as if he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Just so you know, they finally set a time. 3pm.” Fin announced. Thank god; having a set time took some of the weight off Devon’s shoulders, but it did make her stomach drop all the same. Both Amaro and Fin left then, Amaro giving Devon a small smile, a peace offering after her accusation.

Fin came back 20 minutes later and reluctantly cuffed Devon once more. At least he left them a little loose, so she wasn’t losing circulation. He took her to his squad car, and he, along with Rollins, drove her to IAB’s headquarters.

#rafael barba x oc #everyone deserves love #everyone deserves love chapter 7 p1 #edl #edl ch7 #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #oh no they're in love #it's happening

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colorfulhearts · 5 years

Text

Colorful Hearts Ch. 12

*Ring*

Jackie had just finished lighting a few candles when her computer started ringing at her for attention. Glancing at the old clock on her wall she smiled to herself, realizing who it could be.

*Ring*

Walking to her desk and pulling her plush computer chair out and sat down. Clicking her mouse she answered the video call. A comforting familiar face popped up on her screen with a genuine smile.

“Hey, Jack. There are two new commissions on the site. Did you see?” She was looking away from the camera. Probably looking at the website inbox on a different monitor.

To most it would have seemed rude but to Jackie it was just how her relationship with Robynn was. It didn’t matter that they didn’t see or talk to each other every day. When they did get to talk it was like not a moment has passed since their last conversation. It would be considered extremely strange to those that didn’t know them. Even to those that did didn’t seem to fully grasp the concept of their friendship. The two had never met in person but together they ran a very successful business. Robynn handle the website and the books of commission and projects while Jackie created. To them it was fate that had brought them together. Tech Science and creativity working together to bring fiction into reality as they put it.

Jackie shook her head, the messy bun slowly coming undone. Robynn saw her silly action and laughed while moving her webcam to show the other monitor. Just like Jackie had suspected their website was in full view on it. Squinting her eyes she got closer to her own monitor to read what she was showing her. It was two commission requests for a new item she had created that had yet to have its debut on the site. Bat wings that could be tied onto any shoe with laces. She had showed them off unofficially not long ago along with a few other pieces that she had gotten the guys to wear.

The guys.

Phelix.

Her mind began to wonder. Thoughts of the other night clouding her mind yet again. As her mind wandered about Phelix, Robynn continued talking about the commissions and their specifics. It wasn’t until after she had finished reading the notes on the orders that she noticed that Jackie wasn’t paying any attention to her.

“Jackie…” the voice sounded distant. “Jackie.” Another pause. “YO JACK! SNAP OUT OF IT!” That time Robynn shouted and clapped her hands close to the mic on her headset. That snapped Jackie out of her daze and back to reality.

“What? Huh? Sorry, what did you say?”

“Okay,” Robynn sighed, “spill. You don’t space out like that over nothing. What’s up?”

Jackie looked away from the camera, looking down at the keyboard. She noticed it had glitter mixed with dust in between the keys. She really need to clean it before it affected anything.

“Jackie…” this time Robynn didn’t have to shout. The concern in her voice was louder than any battle cry every could be.

She looked up from her keyboard to look up towards her own webcam and looked at Robynn. She didn’t say anything. She just locked eyes with her friend. Hoping that she would drop the subject. But she knew better. Robynn would start to worry and slowly get her to talk about what was running through her crowded mind. She was amazing that way.

“Come on, Jack. You know you can talk with me about anything and everything.” Her voice was so comforting. Like a warm blanket right out of the dryer.

Jackie nodded her head. She did know. She’d always known. Even before the business they created together. Since their first emails to each other on a blogging site she knew that Robynn was someone she could talk to no matter what the situation. It was like fate had created this crazy path through the internet for them to cross. What they had was special.

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Robynn didn’t rush her. She didn’t have to. She knew Jackie was just sorting her thoughts out. Jackie grabbed a pen from her pen pot and started messing with it. Removing the cap then putting it back on. It was a tick she had developed over the years when she was nervous or overwhelmed at her desk. She always had pens around so it was helpful. She would focus on the pen and breath.

“I think I’m starting to develop real feelings for Phe. And not just friendship feelings but…” her rushed words just stopped.

“Romantic feelings,” Robynn finished.

More nodding. She really needed to break this habit of losing her words. She made a mental note to look for other ways of communication that didn’t involve using your own voice.

Robynn smiled at her long distant friend; in the back of her mind she wished, once again, that they lived closer so she could hug her friend. She could tell that she really could use it.

“I was wondering when you would face the facts.”

Jackie tilted her head to the side and looked at Robynn in a very confused way.

As if reading her mind she said, “You and Phe have always had a different relationship. Yeah you two are great friends but it’s always been different.”

“How?” Jackie asked quickly.

“Well,” Robynn took a sip of what she was drinking, “When you talk about him you smile differently. Like you really like remembering whatever it is you are remembering about him.”

“I smile when I talk about Marco and Ethyn too,” she said almost defensively.

“True,” Robynn laughed. “But it’s a special smile. Like the kind that hurts but you don’t mind it because it’s about someone special.”

Jackie was about to say something to counter what Robynn had said but she had raised a hand stopping her words.

“Jackie, why are you so afraid of this being a real thing?”

Was she scared? Jackie took a moment to think about it. Really think about it.

If she allowed herself to give in to these feelings what could happen?

“Jack…”

Robynn’s voice made her refocus on her.

“Talk it out with me. Please.”

Jackie nodded her head. “If I let this happen, let my feelings come out about Phelix, it could be both a good and bad thing.”

“How so?”

Sighing Jackie answered, “We live in the same house. That’s both good and bad. We’ll see each other a lot. But maybe too much.” Her words started to get faster, “Then he might grow to resent me. We have a lot of the same friends, especially in this house. Also a good and bad thing. They may grow to be annoyed if we get to couple-y. What if they don’t like us together? What if they think it’s awkward? Or if we break up what happens then? Does he move? Do I? What then?!”

Her breathing was labored.

“Breath, Jackie.”

She heard her but Robynn sounded so far away. The pen in her grasp felt like it was about to snap in half.

“Just breathe.” Robynn’s voice was getting closer. The panic was dying down. The grip on the poor innocent pen was loosening. “I don’t know exactly what you are feeling but I can tell that the thought of trying something new and it failing is scaring you.”

Still unable to use her words Jackie nodded her head.

“But if I’m remembering right starting this friendship and business was also something new and very scary. I was a stranger.” Jackie looked up towards her screen to see Robynn looking off into the distance, recalling the beginning of their friendship.

“I was a random person answering your very vague post about looking for a website partner,” she laughed remembering the very suspicious post on tumblr of all places. “But look what that crazy post created. A friendship that most people find crazy and unreal. A very successful business that’s coming up on its three year anniversary. Which by the way we need to post a few pictures of the pieces that will be debuting with the coupon code.”

A smile was creeping onto Jackie’s face. Robynn’s words were true.

Instead of focusing on the actual matter she nodded her head and picked up her phone to pretend to text. “I’ll ask Ethyn and ask when he has a time slot for a photo shoot.” She gently placed her phone down and mentally took a note to ask Ethyn for some photo time. He’d do it for sure. He loved photography. Any chance to use his camera he took.

Robynn laughed and checked something off on a notepad she had in front of her. She loved working on her computers and tablets but nothing replaced the joy of checking something off on a physical to do list.

“But really, Jack. Talk to him. You know you want to talk with him.”

Jackie was about to say something but Robynn continued.

“It’s going to be scary and it’s a risk but isn’t it worth taking?”

Jackie thought on what she just said. Was it worth taking? She thought about the night she shared with Phe. It was sweet and every time she remembered his forehead against hers, the look in his eyes, her heart fluttered.

If she could take the risk of starting not just a friendship but a business with someone she had never met why was it so hard for her to take the risk to give these feelings she was having a chance.

“Jackie…”

The silence was getting overwhelming for Robynn. Jackie looked up and gave Robynn and genuine smile. “I’ll talk to him.”

“It’s going to be okay, my dude. I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

With that assurance Jackie finally felt like she really could, without a doubt, talk to Phelix. Even if it didn’t go like she imagined at least she had someone in her corner with support.

After a while the two began to get back to their so called meeting. Catching up on their personal lives and finally discussing the upcoming anniversary sale.

Jackie had been working on new wing designs as well as finalizing the designs that she had created and had the boys wear a few weeks back at a show she was asked to be a part of. While the boys were on her mind she remembered to text Ethyn before she really forgot and he got busy with another project.

Reaching for her phone she actually used it to text Ethyn.

Jackie: Hey Ethyn! I need a favor please! Involves you and your camera.

She hit send and placed her phone back on her desk knowing that the boys went to the movies and was unsure if they were out or not. She returned to talking with Robynn about the orders she had been talking about before she got distracted. As Robynn was going into detail on the orders Jackie’s phone began to vibrate.

It was Ethyn.

Ethyn: I think I already know and of course. We can talk about the details when I get back. Be home soon.

Be home soon.

“They’ll be home soon.” Jackie hadn’t realized that she had said this out loud until Robynn replied to her.

“You don’t have to talk to him the moment he gets home. You take your time.”

“You’re right,” Jackie let out a breath she had been holding slowly. “Let’s get back to work. Also Ethyn said he’d take the photos.”

“Perfect!” Robynn smiled and continued typing.

As they were finishing up their meeting Jackie heard the door open and shut.

“JACKIE WERE BACK! WANNA GRAB DINNER WITH US?!?” Marco shouted.

“Is there a need for the yelling!?” Ethyn shouted at Marco just as loud.

Jackie laughed, “Will you both stop shouting before we get a noise complaint from the neighbors!”

Robynn laughed as she waved, “I better get going. But call me anytime. Okay?” She raised her eyebrows at Jackie.

Nodding Jackie waved back, “Talk to you soon Roby.” And with a few clicks their call disconnected.

As she got up from her desk there was a knock on her door.

“Come in…”

Slowly the door opened and Phelix was standing in her doorway, a smile crossed his face. Fully facing him she gave him a sweet smile in return and it faded a bit when she saw a bruise on his forehead, “How was the movie, violent?”

He looked at her confused, head tilting to the side. She gestured to his forehead and he quickly realized what she meant.

“Uh,” he stammered and laughed nervously. “Nah, just bumped my head. Wasn’t paying attention.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Wanna go to dinner with us?”

He looked so not himself but she brushed it aside.

“Yeah, just let me freshen up a bit. Just got done with my meeting with Robynn.”

“You look perfect.” The words left his mouth without thinking. His face blushed a deep red as Jackie giggled, hiding her face in her hands.

“I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Right.” Phelix began to close the door and almost got his hand caught. She managed to see him take his hand away just in time which made her laugh.

‘I’ll talk to him soon.’ The thought crossed her mind as she pulled her hair down, fingers running through her dark waves.

‘Soon.’

She looked at herself quickly in the mirror giving her reflection a smile and tossing her hair from side to side to give it some volume. After blowing out the candles she lit, she grabbed her jacket from the closet as she walked out of her room to meet up with her roommates. Her friends.

“Come on, Jackie! Before Marco eats the neighbors,” Ethyn laughed as he joked, holding the front door open for her.

Stepping outside she saw Phelix in the driver's seat waving at them to hurry up and get in. She laughed at the sight of a grumpy Marco in the passenger seat.

She walked over to the car and got in. She took a deep breath and let it out quickly.

“You okay back there?” Phelix asked as he looked at her through the rear view mirror. He took in her image, her dark hair, crystal blue eyes...

Marco quickly answered the question with a growl that wasn’t meant for him, interrupting Phelix’s mental note taking of Jackie’s appearance, “She’s hungry. Hurry up and drive!”

That made Jackie laugh a bit but when she saw that Phe was still looking at her she smiled and nodded her head to assure him that she was fine. He nodded back and put the car in reverse and backed out of their driveway.

Jackie’s heart felt like it was doing flips in her chest but she enjoyed the feeling. Change was coming and she was excited about it.

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ghostmartyr · 6 years

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(1/2)Erm, I saw your thoughts on the most recent EMA discussion, and while I agree that he cares for them and is agressively pushing them away and breaking the EMA BOND, I believe that some of the stuff he brought up were relevant. It's weird that Armin suddenly began visiting Annie that he wasn't particularly close to after receiving Berth's memories, and while pushing for negociations is something I can see Armin doing, he's been unusually passive on some stuff, and the way he snapped at eren

(2/2)reminded me of the exact way Bert snapped at Armin in the end of S2. A Titan Shifter’s memories influence is no joke, as seen with the SnK and the founder, and I’ve seen too many blogs dismissing that at “Eren is being bitchy” and leaving it at that. Also, while I don’t believe everything Eren said about the Ackerman. Also, Levi entertains the thoughts of Eren being eaten, get a headache, and the headache stop when he dismiss the thought and swith the focus on Zeke being eaten instead.

I agree a little bit on the Ackerman points. No matter where the story goes, I think it would be a waste not to explore Eren wondering if what Zeke’s told him is the truth. Depending on where his head’s at, being presented with the idea that a member of his family is never given a choice in how she feels about him is a pretty destructive bomb.

Whatever else is going on, Eren angsting over Mikasa and the impact he’s had on her life? Come on. This arc’s gone full fanfic already. Go for it.

I’m guilty of missing the possibility that Levi’s headache at the situation was due to thinking about killing Eren instead of just finding the situation headache-inducing. That’s one of the hills I won’t exactly die on, but I have a very strong preference for the Ackerpains being based in trauma. Because I’m an optimistic, hopeful person who believes in fluff and rainbows.

…If that turns out to be wrong, well. Sorry about your life, Mikasa.

The Titan Shifter memories are something I feel like we’ve really only seen at play with Eren, and at this point he has three separate Titans–the Founding Titan being explicitly pervasive about it as a plot point.

Reiner and Bertolt never bring up their predecessors, and Gabi’s understanding is fueled by her love for her cousin. Porco, with his family connection, should be the best example of the most that can be expected from standard Shifter memory transfer, and he only has bits and pieces.

Eren starts drowning in his father once he reads the journals, but my impression was that it’s a unique trip that mixes the bloodline connection with the Founding Titan. That read could easily be wrong, but that’s how I understood it.

Armin going to Annie actually makes a lot of sense to me as just a piece of Armin, and I guess I’m going to go babbling about that enough to earn a cut.

…Hi, it’s 2013 again, have some Female Titan Arc feels.

-one hour later- Good fuck why isn’t this its own post.

He and Annie are seventy chapters old by now, but she spares his life twice, both after he doesn’t say anything about her having Marco’s gear.

In that scene, he says, about the girl who keeps her distance and tries not to get attached, that she’s actually pretty nice.

Then they talk, before her brawl with Eren starts. He’s playing her, but when she asks him if she looks like a good person, the conflict is real. He knows what she is by then. He doesn’t want it to be real, but he knows. He knows she’s murdered countless of their comrades, and maybe helped take out the walls.

But he doesn’t say he believes in bad people. He says he doesn’t believe in good people. He makes it about perspective, knowing that he doesn’t have Annie’s at all, and feeling that gap, but knowing even more that bridging it can’t be important when she’s an active threat.

Bad or good in general isn’t the point.

“That would make you a bad person to me.”

Armin doesn’t say Annie’s the one who has Marco’s gear. He doesn’t want to believe it, and he wants to think that maybe, this time, his smarts let him down, because otherwise that means the girl he just realized is a nice person might be a traitor.

People die because he doesn’t speak up.

He isn’t one of them.

They both screw up.

They both are good people to each other in those moments, and it’s the last thing either of them should be doing.

Even once the shouting has started over Annie getting in the tunnel, Armin is still saying they can talk. He doesn’t have Bertolt in him then; all he has is his own heart, and he doesn’t want to fight, he wants to know why.

When Annie asks him why he doesn’t say anything about Marco’s gear, Armin has his answer, and it kills him, but he knows exactly why. Annie, in comparison, is lost. She’s killed loads of people, so she should have some room to understand what makes it different, but all she can tell him is that she wonders about it too.

Then she’s locked up in her crystal, and Armin finds his answers in Reiner and Bertolt. In Marley’s history. In the world’s history.

It isn’t a surprising thing that Armin goes to Annie.

She doesn’t want to be a titan either. She doesn’t see any way out of her role. She’s trapped, and all her only bit of freedom does is bring that trap out of her mind and turn it physical.

Annie is the link to the outside world that Armin and the rest of Paradis don’t have, unless you count Kiyomi. She’s their enemy, but not because she hates them. Not because she’s a bad person. Not because they can’t understand each other.

She can’t talk back, but I don’t think Armin identifies with any character in the series more.

She’s the odd one out of her trio. Her own mistake of having a heart makes her their prisoner. She’s smart, and sees all the angles of their fucked up, rotten world.

They’re both Titans.

In the more current world, she’s another person who saved him instead of moving her people’s plan forward.

Armin loves his friends so much he tries to die for them, and instead of paying him back by honoring that, they refuse to let him go and let humanity’s greatest commander die.

There’s something about that simple wrongness. It’s the kind of wrong that can only be born from a nice person. Someone who can’t drop what they should, because it’s too precious.

It’s not supposed to be, and Armin tries to live a life where it’s not, but his best friend… his best friend can’t even consider that sort of life.

Until he razes the internment camp.

Armin might not agree philosophically with Eren’s choice to save his life, but he loves Eren, and the part of Eren that loves him back so much it maybe breaks the world–that part might be gone now.

So he goes to talk to Annie.

Who’s frozen in a time when the Warrior sent in for blood couldn’t bring herself to kill a friend.

That’s a much nicer world.

Like, I’ll cop to the story having more to do when it comes to memories and Ackerman stuff, but Armin talking to Annie? That is the most Armin thing he could possibly be doing.

…Thanks for the asks.

Sorry for ah. derailing them a tad.

#attack on asks #Armin Arlert #Annie Leonhart #tl;dr

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hitominyo · 5 years

Text

Talent Show

I had to wait for a computer to finally post this in here since I still don’t know how to use the app well. Anywho, this is my first work and I’m reaaally anxious and insecure but I’m still pulling it out here. Comments are well recieved and if there is something that it’s spelled wrong or it just looks wrong, please tell me? English is not my first language. Enjoy!

The song I used as inspiration and as part of the story is ’Let it be me’ of Ava Max. Especially the acoustic version. Here is the link from youtube: https://youtu.be/CPpBDxhx-ws

**************

Marco sighs. He is looking through a small gap between the curtains from behind the stage. There was a lot more people than he initially thought it would be. To say that he was nervous was an understatement. He was terrified . Why would he do this to himself? Oh, right. One of his best friends asked him to do it.

Her friend Star Butterfly is the creative manager of this establishment and when she came to his house a month ago carrying a large bowl of his favorite freshly handmade cookies of that bakery from the other side of the city his soul was sold. He had learned a long time ago that trying to say no to the blonde was just delaying the inevitable, but that didn’t mean he didn’t put on a fight. Her friend asked him to play and sing for the Talent Show she was organizing since she needed a at least 4 interested people on performing to make it credible for her bosses and she only needed one more.

Marco has been playing his guitar since he was a little boy, but didn’t have much experience at playing in front of audiences. He didn’t have stage fright, but it still made him nervous and self-conscious when others aside from his close friends and family watched him perform. Overall it made him uneasy play the song he decided on, since the lyrics were made with someone very specific in mind.

*******

Tom stared at the door in front of him thinking for the last time if this was a good idea. He has been locked up in his apartment for the last three weeks since his last break up. Just remembering it made him feel that horrible pain in his chest. Like a big and dark space that made him feel hollow. The embarrassment, the treason, the rejection, the feeling of not being enough to deserve love.

He sighed. But. There was someone who needed his support that night. Someone who has been helping him each and every day after his most recent heartbreak. Marco was the first to know about the break up with her now ex-girlfriend. He remembered how he found her with another man on THEIR bed that fateful day when he left his work early to surprise her for their 2nd year anniversary. The fight has been quick but none the less hurtful. Some screaming, objects being thrown to the floor and tears. Mostly from Tom. The first thing he thought to do after he kicked her ex out from his apartment was to call the boy he's been friends with since they were 15. It took the other to listen to his quavery tone to know he needed to be there as soon as possible.

It took the Latino not even 20 minutes to arrive to his front door. Impressive considering it's almost impossible to get that fast to anywhere with the traffic at that hour. Not even that, he was carrying a few bags full of food and beverages that he knew were the homeowner’s favorites. Tom, who had been crying the whole time, wasted no time to hug him with all his might making his friend lose some of his balance but avoiding by little to drop the things he was carrying. After a minute of convincing from the brunette who had managed to pass all the things to one of his hands, he used the other to awkwardly hug his friend, they made it to the couch closing the door behind them.

Marco had listened all the taller one had to say and took the responsibility to take care of him since he knew he could do so much to make the other feel better. They drank and they ate so much ice cream it was hard for the smaller one to take his friend to bed, taking the couch for himself. The following days were no better for Tom, the pain still fresh and the inevitable reunion with the woman who broke his heart to come back for her stuff accompanied with no other but the one he was cheated with. Marco kept on visiting every night sometimes bringing food for his friend to eat since he knew the other wouldn't make for himself, sometimes to clean the place and others to practically wash the filth from the guy that couldn't even begin to care about his own self been. He even stayed some night by the taller one’s request, sometimes sharing the bed.

For his best friend to take care of him in such a pathetic time in his life, the less he could do was to support him in this night that he knew the other was incredibly nervous about. Even when the brunette didn't asked him to go, (because he is an angel and would never ask for something in return for his actions) he was invited by their blond and enthusiastic friend to support him as a favor for her. It wasn't a hard decision.

With a jacket on one of his hands and his keys on the other, he exited the warm and safety that his home provided to enter the dreaded outside world.

*******

Star went from place to place around the coffee shop with an energy everybody who didn't know her enough would assume was the result of an unlimited supply of energy drinks and pure coffee. The girl was ecstatic to see the great attendance for her first event, hoping there would be a lot more in the future. But it wasn't a surprise, she used every bit of her energy to share her Talent Show around the city and social network until an hour before it started. Even now she was broadcasting with the help of her girlfriend, Janna. Who was also in charge of the music between presentations and lights.

Marco's was the opening act, but she was trying to delay it as much as possible to give his second best friend the opportunity to watch him from the start. Star was done watching their relationship as a mere spectator, she was taking matters on her own hands. While she was talking with one of the contestants she felt a slight vibration on her right pocket and after a second of confusion looked around for her girlfriend at the other side of the room who was showing her two thumbs up.

”That's the signal!” the blond one exclaimed. ”Ok, everyone! You know where to go, just like in the rehearsal!” Screamed the girl running from people to people until she was in front of her best friend. After a very tight hug to the sick looking 22-year-old boy, she shared a big excited smile with him. ”Come on, Marco! You've been practicing since forever! You are going to do awesome!!”

”Star… I don't know if I can do this…” Said the terrified boy trying to look through the curtains for the 50th time that night. Her friend rapidly blocked his way to try not to spoil her very well planned surprise.

”Marco Ubaldo Diaz!” Started the blond with a severe tone on her voice. ”You are the most talented person I've ever met. And I went to art school!” Remarked Star raising both her eyebrows. She put an accusatory finger on the other's chest. ”You have a gift worth sharing and you've been keeping it to yourself long enough” Changing her expression to a sweeter one she lifted her hand to pat the other on his shoulder. ”I’m always going to be with you and all of your family is here to support you as well.”

This made the male smile. He was aware his parents were coming and were probably standing on the first row with their cameras to try to record every second of his presentation. ”Thank you, Star…” He was about to give her a hug when something clicked on his head. His family wasn’t just the ones related to blood for the both of them. ”Wait. Everyone?” Not waiting another second he opened a small gap between the curtains looking for somebody he didn't take too long to sight talking with the blonde’s girlfriend. ”Star! What did you DO?” Asked the taller one with desperation taking the other by the shoulders to shake her.

”Oh, stop that!” Star said removing herself from the other's grip wearing an amused smile. ”This is the perfect time. He actually got out from his actual comfort zone to be here FOR you!” The accusatory finger made it reappearance again with a vengeance. ”You know this is what you have to do, Marco. Or you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

The pep talk from her friend did little for that dreadful feeling in his guts, but he knew she was right. It's been too long keeping his feeling inside of him. They were completely obvious and had put him in various awkward talks with every person he cares about. With the exception of the one he love, who seems to be completely oblivious to them. Seriously, how could be someone so dense?

Marco hasn't been subtle, he even had planned a lot of confessions. But as the perfectionist he is, he needed the perfect time to do it. And everytime he spends with Tom are either so distracting he forget about his plans or trying to be the best comforter he could be. His friend has a point, even if it wasn't planned by him, this was it.

Breathing deeply and closing his eyes tightly he made his decision. With only a nod from the taller one, the girl left him to enter the stage greeting everybody in the audience enthusiastically.

*******

Tom had arrived at the packed place 5 minutes ago looking for any person he could recognize. Instead, he heard his name being shouted from his left. Janna was behind a table brimming to the top with all kinds of electronics and wires waving one of her hands lazily over her head for the boy to see her. With a little difficulty, he approached his friend asking for the people on his way to move politely. ”Hey, you!” Says the taller one once he was by her side.

The girl with the beanie, putting away her mobile on her back pocket looked to her front to the stage making a thumbs up gesture over her head. ”Sorry. Hey, man! You came just in time for the show!” Greets Janna directing her attention to the other before going back to the console in the table in front of her. ”How have you been?” Asked while dimming the lights of the coffee shop and the music at the time she was directing a white light to the middle of the stage controlling everything from a computer connected to all the other gadgets.

”Well, you know.” Paused the 23-year-old to his friend. ”Going.” He watched to the stage as her other friend, Star, walked to the front of the stage greeting the audience with her cheerful tone.

”That’s enthusiastic.” Said sarcastically the girl by his side looking at him sideways. ”But I'm sure you will feel better soon, don't worry.” She says with a strange smile now looking at the other turning her head completely to him before going back to her job as the first contestant was announced. ”Well, look at that.” The room now quieter than before stared at the front as a boy with his guitar took his place in front of the microphone. She could see how the expression from the other changed drastically to a happier one as he saw his best friend.

”Hey, ummm… I'm Marco Diaz.” The brunette presented himself looking a little flustered and searching for something or someone in the audience. After hearing a loud cheer from the back of the room and others followed from it his eyes found the ones of his most precious friend. He took a deep breath and continued. ”And this song is called ’Let it be me’, I hope you like it.” The blue haired girl smiled broadly as the last part seemed to be directed at the confused man on her right. This was going to be great, she thought.

*******

When you're faded and alone

And need somebody on the phone

Let it be me, let it be me

As the melodious voice of his best friend starts the song, the sound of his guitar came next in a slow tempo. Marco started to play when they were in school and he almost didn't need to look where his finger have to be on the guitar’s strings. Tom couldn't ignore the intense look the brunette was directed to him as the other performs as it was just the two of them in the room. Something inside of the taller one that he thought he had been buried inside of him was starting to emerge.

When she leaves you in the rain

You need a high to kill the pain

Let it be me, let it be me

The memories from the past weeks flooded his mind only remembering the moments the singer was there for him. Giving him his undivided attention. Only to make him feel better. To show him how much he cares.

And I'll show you love the way it's supposed to be

Tom felt how his heart stopped beating at the moment that sentence was said. Watching how sincere the performer's eyes were against his own. ’It couldn't be…’ though the pink haired man.

Summer days, winter nights

Ride or die, right by you side

Killing time 'till you're ready to see I'm all you need

The beat of his guitar started to pick up making the people in the audience to start clapping trying to follow the rhythm. This made the performer smile a little breaking their eye contact to look around the room and give them a little love too. But it didn't last long since by the second part they were there to find the ones of the one he loves the most.

You're a drunk, you're a fool

I'm insane, so right for you

When the ship goes down

Look in your dreams, that's where I'll be

Tom could sense the playful tone on his friend's voice as the lyrics progressed and it made him smile stupidly. Making him feel so many things at the same time it seems impossible for a person.

And I ne-ne-ne-need you

Breath in. Breath out

And I la-la-la-la-love ya

A gasp. This time his heart definitely stopped and he knew the way that phrase was said was different from the times it has been pronounced before.

But I wanna-wanna-wanna-wanna

Just stay the night

He remembered all the times they spent on sleepovers since they met each other. All the sleepless nights just talking about anything and everything. How easy it has been to share with the brunette those things he wouldn't say to anybody else. How sometimes they would share the same bed to stay as close as possible because it felt right...

When you're faded and alone

And need somebody on the phone

Let it be me, let it be me

How could it be that even as he could see how nervous his best friend was he could still sing about something so intimate as these feelings? Tom couldn't believe the person on stage was actually the same one he saw blushing and stuttering when too much attention was on him.

When she leaves you in the rain

You need a high to kill the pain

Let it be me, let it be me

There was no doubt the taller one's face was brighter than the lights facing the stage at the other side of the room. It seemed as his whole body was on fire, feeling how he was producing more heat than he needed.

And I'll show you love the way it supposed to be

Tom felt like he was drowning. Drowning in something so rare he believed he could never deserve. The heat on his chest was pleasant and suffocating at the same time.

Ta-da-da-da, da-da-da-da, da-da-da-ta-da-da-da

The listeners around the room that have been swaying and raising their phones to create their own lights were starting to clap to the beat again making some encouraging sounds to the performer's passion on every bit of his song. Tom couldn't notice any of this as he was completely enthralled by the one on the stage.

Ta-da-da-da, da-da-da-da, da-da-da-ta-da-da-da

The pink haired man looked how the one stealing his attention enjoyed the way others were responding to him, even how his flushed face shows that anxiousness he couldn't hide completely. The singers focus fluctuating between his friend and the rest of the room.

And I ne-ne-ne-need you

Hearing again that phrase made the taller one sigh feeling how he was falling completely to the one on stage’s feet. He just couldn't care to keep any of his walls up when this moment was happening in front of his eyes.

And I la-la-la-la-love you

A stupid smile and an even brighter face made him lift up his hands to his cheeks to try to hide a little his expression. But he knew he wasn't changing the fact that his best friend could see every one of his emotions as clear as they were his own. Even if they were so far from each other.

But I wanna-wanna-wanna-wanna

Just stay the night

He just couldn't imagine wanting to ever be apart from the one that was serenading him with such emotion and sincerity. He just wanted to go to him and intoxicate in his eyes. To hug him as close as it was possible and even tighter than that.

When you're faded and alone

And need somebody on the phone

Let it be me, let it be me

Oh, how he wants to kiss him. How he NEEDS to kiss him.

When she leaves you in the rain

You need a high to kill the pain

Let it be me, let it be me

He just couldn't remember a time where it was anybody else but Marco. He is his past, present and future. There couldn't be anyone else. It has always been him, Tom realized as he saw how the last chords of the guitar where strummed.

And I'll show you love the way it supposed to be

It was said as a promise and he just knew it was something both of them were very excited to experience.

*******

Their thoughts were interrupted by the deafening noise from all the one's present in the room that seems even more packed than before. Marco felt as if pulled out from a trance as the cheering made him realize where he actually was. And flushing a bright red made a small reverence to the excited listeners that seemed to be more vocal by every second. He saw how the louder ones, that were throwing him flowers, were his own parents. The hostess entered the stage again to stand beside his best friend hugging him sideways to evade knocking the other’s guitar. Star took the microphone to encourage the audience to be even louder for him. It passed almost a whole minute until she had to call for the people to settle down a little so they could go on with the night.

*******

”Hey.” Tom jumped as he remembered he was in the company of one of his friends. Just the one that would never let him forget how silly he most look in that moment. With a smug smile on her face, she seemed to enjoy the surprise and self-consciousness the boy was sharing unwillingly with her. ”So, what are you doing here?”

”Uh?” Says eloquently the taller one receiving a loud laugh from the other.

”Shouldn't you be looking for your man to tell him how much you want to suck his face?” Tom felt how his face erupted again in a furious blush. ”Take that door and walk until the end of the hallway. You can't miss it.” Says the girl winking at him and giving him a push to the door she was referring behind the coffee bar at her left.

*******

As they exited the stage letting the next performer take their place, the two friends took a little turn to arrive at the deserted small staff room that only had a table, a couple of chairs and a pantry with a coffee machine on top. The male had to sit down. He didn't notice until that moment that his legs felt like noodles. ”Oh, my lord! You were so cool, Marco! I knew you could do it!” Said the hyper girl now standing in front of him to take the guitar from the other and place it on an adjacent wall by their side. ”Did you see how everybody loved you?! I told you you were going to be a hit!” Squealed the blonde girl giving him another big hug now that there was nothing preventing her to do it properly. He heard his friend laughing while returning the gesture but got worried when she felt something wet on her shoulder. ”Marco?! What is it?!” Asked the shorter one using her scarf to try to dry his friend's tears.

”Star… I can't believe I did it…” His voice small and the adrenaline he felt before was draining quickly from his body. Her friend smiled at him again, this time softer and full of pride for the brunette. ”What's going to happen now? I can't just go back to how things were before now…” Everything seems so uncertain for him. The fear starting to settle inside of him like wildfire. They heard the other entrance of the room opening behind Marco’s back. By the smile rapidly forming in his friend’s face in front of him, he knew exactly who it was.

”Well, pretty boys! I have to go back out there to keep the party going.” Singsonged the cheery girl taking her scarf back and started to walk to the door where they previously entered the room before. She opened it and sent kisses to their direction before exiting the place closing it behind her. She gave herself a pat on her back and continued her journey to the place where her attention was needed.

*******

Tom felt breathless and had to stay a moment just looking at the door in front of him. Taking a well-needed breath, he opened it finding two figures on the center of the small room. One of them being the person he was looking for. He watched that the other was saying something to them but couldn't focus on her. His brain not processing anything anymore. As the blonde left the room he took another step and closed the door behind him directing his attention to the other men in the room.

They could hear the noise of the audience applauding another performer muffled by the thick walls. Marco felt as his body was suddenly made of stone and his heart was dangerously trying to escape from his chest. He heard slow but intent steps getting closer to him and a new set of tears left his treacherous eyes. Marco closes his eyes tightly lifting one of his hands to try to get rid of them.

”Marco, why are you crying?” His best friend asked kneeling in his front giving him a worried gaze. He felt the other take his lifted hand preventing it for the brunette to hide. Sighing he opened his eyes founding the taller one looking at him as he was afraid he might break at any moment. This made him let out a short laugh, feeling silly.

”Sorry.” The worry in the other features turned into something akin to annoyance which in turn frightened him. He was opening his mouth again when he saw how the other straightened his bac to match their heights so their faces were in front of each other and placing his free hand on the shorter one’s cheek. He let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and looked something in the other’s eyes that surprised him.

”I'm the one that should be saying that, Marco...” Tom’s gaze traveled around his friend entire face like he was looking at him for the first time. ”You already said what you had to say. Now it's my turn.” The pink-haired men connected their sights once more. ”I'm sorry.” He paused. ”I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner that I've been in love with you since we met.” At the surprised look in the other’s face, he traced his jawline feeling the roughness of the beginning of a stubble. ”And I don't mean… When we first met. That was… Unfriendly, to say the least.” Tom letting out an awkward laugh and Marco smiling softly. ”But, when I actually met you. When we started to talk and share and spend time together… I just knew I never wanted to be apart from you ever again.” This was said with such conviction and sincerity the brunette felt like crying again. Like he was in a dream. ”At the time I was too stupid to understand what that feeling was and I just associated it to friendship, since I never really had one before.”

”Marco, you definitely are my best friend. But you are also the one that stole my heart.” He could see how new tears were emerging from the one in front of him and move closer to kiss just above his eyebrow. ”I was so afraid you might found out about it. I had to keep as much distance from you as you would let me.” He intertwined their finger and moved his other hand to the back of Marco’s head feeling his soft hair between his fingers while leaning his chin on the others shoulder. ”I started dating people trying to find a connection. Frightened that if I showed you too much I might lose you.”

The shorter one squeezed their grasp and used his free hand to the others shoulder to make a little bit of distance between them to look into his partner eyes. After sharing a watery smile he spoke. ”You are so dumb.” The playful tone clear in this voice, but also a bit of exasperation. They laughed shortly but with contentment.

”I know.” Says the older standing up since his legs were starting to feel numb. He pulled the other to do the same placing his now free hand on the small of his back. ”May I kiss you?” Asked the taller one moving closer to join their foreheads together with an intense look that almost looked hungry.

The other laughed quietly. ”I'm going to be really mad if you don't.” He says unlocking their hands to hug him around his neck and raising himself a little to make it easier for them to join. He didn't wait much longer as the pink-haired one made a small humming noise before pushing their lips together softly. Tilting his head to the side to fit better against each other.

They moved slowly enjoying the moment both of them have been waiting for. Tom felt electricity and fire at the first touch of their lips. His legs wanting to give up. Luckily he had the grip on the other's body to steady himself. His free hand traveling up the brunette’s back to keep him close. Almost afraid he might lose him or wake up from a dream suddenly.

The shorter one was the first to pull back after a minute to look at the other enjoying the confusion in his best friend’s face. He took a moment to appreciate his flushed skin. His brown eyes that look almost red under the sun. The freckles like constellation on his cheeks, nose, forehead, and neck that he knew made him feel self-conscious when they were younger. The makeup that he wears so confident every day even when he doesn't need to leave the house. His pink hair that is starting to show his natural ginger color at the roots. ”Hey.” Those rosy lips said to him, making him smile a little broader. ”What is it?” The curiosity present on his smooth voice.

”Just thinking.” Was his response starting to play with the short hair on the other’s nape. At the arched brow and the small quirk on the corners of his lips, he decided end his suffering for a real answer. ”How lucky I am.” He heard the instant laugh noticing a little embarrassment in it and observed how that blush grew a little more reaching the top of his pierced ears.

”That's so cheesy!” His laugh getting louder and louder by the second.

”I know you are a sucker for that.” Came back the younger one, infected by the other and letting out his own guffaw.

”Oh, my God! Why did I have to fall in love with my best friend?!” The taller one couldn't stop, almost doubling over by the amusing banter between them. Taking a few steps against the other to push him to the table behind him. ”What was I thinking?” Asked a little breathless trying to calm down with little success.

”You weren't. Sorry.” He sat down on the edge of the furniture pulling the other by the neck starting to kiss his face in a random pattern, trying to reach every spot in it.

Putting a hand in the middle of the younger’s back the other pushed him a little more to also kiss him were his lips landed still laughing, but a little calmer.

They definitely looked like a pair of mad men.

”I love you, Marco Diaz.” Was whispered against the shorter one’s ear, making him let a pleased whimper out.

”I love you, Tom Lucitor.” Was his response before kissing the tip of his nose connecting their gazes again.

[Later that night they were found making out in that table by a pair of amused girls and the parents of the younger. One of the first ones with a cellphone on her hand.]

#tomco #tomarco #marco diaz #tom lucitor #fanfiction #fluff #some angst #like just a little #love confessions #janstar #matchmaker star butterfly #send help #please

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sp4c3-0ddity · 6 years

Text

Found and Lost

remember me expounding on a bizarre post-apocalyptic android!Pidge AU in this post?? well, here are ~4800 words!!

setting somewhat inspired by that in Nausicaa

if you’re scared of creepy crawlies (specifically centipedes) you might want to skip that...attack at the end of the last scene; also warning for non-graphic (implied really) nudity

enjoy!!

The first thing Lance had noticed about Outside was how humid it was. The air filtered through his breathing mask sat heavily in his lungs, and the mask itself stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Sweat pooled in the small of his back underneath his pack, and he worried he drank the water in his canteen too rapidly in his effort to avoid dehydration. The mask’s lenses fogged up, but he couldn’t wipe it away without taking it off and exposing himself to the air’s toxins.

Moss covered every inch of the ground, absorbing the sound of his footsteps like a plush carpet. Leafy vines flowering in a myriad of colors and textures wound around tree branches and massive trunks and along the ground. Roots arched up so high Lance had to watch his step and climb over them. Insects with gossamer-thin and brightly patterned wings fluttered through the air, alighting on flowers and touching his gloved hand when he held it up.

The beauty of it took his breath away - and would do so quite literally if he wasn’t careful.

Very little sunlight penetrated the thickly intertwined branches overhead, just enough to see by but not nearly enough to be blinding. Motes of dust and pollen spun through the air, and a small yellow lizard lounging on a sunny root caught his eye when its pink tongue lazily flicked out of its jaws.

Lance had never seen so much color - so much green - in his life.

He rested his hand against the trunk of a tree, gazing around this forbidden world…wishing he had someone to share it with.

Something glinted in his periphery, and when Lance turned his head, his eyes shot open at the sight of sunlight flashing off metal.

His grip on the rifle tightened, heart skipping a beat. Had he come across an expedition by accident or was it something more sinister?

But when standing still and listening told him nothing, he crept closer to the source of his trepidation, pushing away the vines that grew thickly over a…

Structure, Lance realized, his eyes widening.

He stood before a gaping doorway, and the glint of metal had come from mostly corroded hinges that no longer held a door.

Humanity hadn’t always lived trapped behind a wall, shielded as well as they could be from a world that could kill them with a single lungful of unfiltered air.

He stepped over the threshold, his rifle at the ready, wary of anything lurking in the shadows. Cobwebs stuck to his clothes, making his skin crawl, but they were few enough that he was only disgusted rather than fearful.

His boots crunched over broken glass, a rotten wood floor creaking as he ventured deeper into the structure. A low croon made him freeze in place, but a heartbeat later a dove launched itself into the air and flew past him with a flapping of its wings.

Lance sagged, tension deflating from him. So he only startled a bird…

The further into the building he stepped, the darker it grew. He fumbled in his pack for the torch and flicked it on, casting the light around a room littered with scraps of wood, lichen and mold-covered beams exposed under a holey ceiling.

“Any minute now,” he mumbled, “something’s going to fall from the ceiling and eat my face…”

Water dripped steadily from an unknown source, the sound filling the room and getting louder as Lance sneaked through another doorway, this one with a decomposing wooden door still hanging from its hinges. His light fell on a sink in the corner with a rusted faucet, drops pooling in its opening before falling.

“Bet I wouldn’t need a purifying tablet before drinking that,” Lance mused sarcastically. He turned out of this room and back, pausing in another doorway.

The torch shone on a face.

Lance’s breath caught in his throat, a strangled shout escaping him as his heart raced. He stumbled backwards, tripping over a piece of wood before catching himself in the doorway.

When he calmed enough - when his heart didn’t pound in his ears and he could breathe again - he approached cautiously. If someone died while on an expedition and no word was brought back to their family, then Lance could—

Oh, right, he wasn’t allowed Outside.

He shook that concern away - he should be more worried about whatever killed them rather than who would kill him once he returned home - and crouched beside the body.

Round, pale face, relaxed expression, closed eyes, light and wavy brown hair that brushed ears, spectacles with shattered lenses perched on the edge of a nose, vines creeping in through a window and wrapping around the body…

It took seconds for him to recognize there was something very strange about this person.

“Y-you’re not human,” he breathed. No one could survive exposure to the toxic air this far from the Wall’s protective bubble, not for long, and whoever this was hadn’t a single sign of decomposition on them - no gaunt cheeks, no cold complexion, no maggots writhing under their skin…

And when Lance dared to tug off his glove and stroke their cheek, it felt as smooth as porcelain but as soft as silk under his thumb.

He pushed aside the dense vines, delicate white petals falling to the floor, in an attempt to disentangle the body and tug it out. His lip curled when the motion disturbed a rat that skittered away with an indignant squeak, and his fingers tore sticky cobwebs to shreds.

Heat rushed to Lance’s face when he revealed a little more than he expected.

Rags hung off the slight body, but they were so frayed and eaten away that they left little of a feminine figure to the imagination.

Lance averted his gaze and guessed, “So you’re…kind of human.”

He sat back on his heels with his arms crossed and eyes fixed on the moldy floor, considering. A part of him wanted to take them - it? Her? - back home with him, but it was obvious they - it? She? - wasn’t alive. No hint of breath whispering from her nose or lips, no warmth emanating from her skin, no heartbeat under his ear when he pressed it to her chest.

(He tried not to think about what else touched his ear…)

But she looked perfectly intact, even healthy despite her pallor.

If he did carry her with him - which would make defending himself from attack by dangerous animals…hard - he’d have to find some way to sneak her through the Wall without alerting the guards and incurring Marco’s or Veronica’s wrath.

Lance sighed and picked his way to the structure’s entrance in time to watch the shadows lengthening, the dense flora coming alive with the screeching, croaking, hissing, and howling of hidden fauna. In the moonlight that filtered through the branches and bathed the forest in a pale white light shapes and shadows moved, concealed and all the more sinister for it.

His skin prickled with tension as he flicked off his torch to avoid attracting a predator to the unnatural light, and he retreated into the crumbling building.

So much for returning home before sunset…

There was no way one of his siblings wouldn’t find out now, no way his absence hadn’t been noticed.

Lance returned to the room with the not-human body, shrugging out of his jacket - the humidity retained so much of the day’s heat he didn’t need it for warmth - and draping it over her front to avoid…looking. He sat before her with his legs crossed, taking off his pack and digging through it for a nutrient packet. He dumped the contents into his specialized canteen, shaking to make sure it dissolved properly, and inserted the straw into the opening in his mask.

The stuff tasted foul on his tongue, plain vitamins and minerals and proteins with no real flavor. But he swallowed anyway, sipping slowly to avoid finishing it too quickly before he found a water supply to replenish the water in his canteen.

Exhaustion crept into his muscles after the hours of trekking, and he longed to take off his mask and dump water onto his face. He already missed his evening routine…

Maybe his mother had a point, forbidding him from training as an Excavator.

Lance lay down on the dirty floor, his pack serving as a lumpy pillow. He clutched the torch, flicking it on and off out of boredom as he waited for sleep to take him.

But the noise of Outside kept him awake, the hair on the back of his neck rising as if something watched him.

The torch’s beam landed on a pair of brown eyes.

“Ah!” Lance shouted, bolting upright and scrambling backwards away from her, careful to keep her in his sight as he reached for his rifle.

A strange whirring sound came from her, and her lips turned down into a slight frown. “W-w-w-what happened?” she whispered, so low he almost didn’t hear her.

Lance raised his hands, waving them while his heart pounded an uneven rhythm. “I-I didn’t mean to turn you on!”

She closed her eyes, almost as if opening them had cost her too much effort, and hummed. “I-I was low on ch-charge then…”

He crawled towards her, curious despite the tension in his limbs, and when he hovered just in front of her, her eyes flicked open again. “Charge?” he asked, raising a confused eyebrow. “Like…batteries?”

“Hmm…” she sighed, eyelids slipping shut again. “N-need light to ch-charge…”

Lance blinked, his mouth hanging open until he understood. He fumbled for his dropped flashlight and shined it on her face.

Rather than squinting like would’ve been expected, she opened her eyes and smiled. “S-sunlight is better,” she explained without much intonation, “b-but artificial light will suffice until s-sunrise.”

“So…what are you?” Lance wondered before he could stop himself. “You look like a girl”—he swallowed and pushed the image of what his jacket hid out of his mind—”but you’re…not human.”

“Good observation,” she said in what might’ve passed for a sarcastic tone. “I-I’m the android KT-005, but m-my programmer n-nicknamed me P-Pidge…”

“Well”—Lance pressed his thumb to his chest—”you can call me Lance, even though I’m a—”

But she ignored him. Her head turned, something audibly spinning in her neck, to take in their surroundings. “W-where is he?”

“Who?”

“M-my programmer…M-Matt…”

“I don’t know who that is,” Lance told her, his brow furrowing. “No one lives here - no one can live here unless they want to be dead in a few days.”

The girl - android, Pidge - frowned. “B-but h-he promised he’d come back,” she said. “I-I told him I-I’d go get him if he didn’t…”

She sounded so much like a confused child Lance’s chest ached. “Whoever he was, he’s long gone now.” He rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, although he didn’t know if she could feel it. “I’m sorry.”

“N-no…” Pidge’s face screwed up, nose wrinkling and lip curling; it was such an obvious expression of pain despite the lack of tears.

And Lance, not knowing what else to do for a grief-stricken stranger, embraced her.

It felt like hugging a pillar, something that wouldn’t - perhaps couldn’t - return the gesture. She sat stiffly in his arms, didn’t even tremble - although he didn’t know if that was due to her lacking charge or a feature of being an android - or sob.

But she rested her forehead on his shoulder, and Lance took that for reciprocation.

“H-how long has it been?” Pidge asked, bursting their bubble of silence.

He confessed, “I don’t know…a few centuries since the air became too toxic to breathe.”

“O-oh. Th-then that’s why you wear a mask.”

“Yeah, if I take this off I’d die quickly.” He pulled away from her, his hands on her shoulders, and met her eyes when she glanced up. “I’ll spend the night here and leave in the morning…” His eyes narrowed, and he wondered, “Do you want to come with me?”

He couldn’t leave her alone.

“I-I don’t know…” Her gaze drifted down, a deep frown on her face.

“There’s no way your programmer is still alive,” Lance pointed out. “He’s probably been dead for centuries, and somehow you survived without any damage.”

“I-I can’t walk without more charge,” Pidge said, her eyes flicking up.

“Do you have batteries?”

“There are photo-voltaic cells under my synthetic skin,” Pidge said. “Th-they need to charge if I’m to gain more mobility.”

“How long does that take?” Lance asked.

“A-an hour in direct sunlight, more if indirect.”

Could he spare that long in the morning? Even at high noon little sunlight made it through the dense growth overhead…

Well, he’d made it this long; what was another half day?

“All right, well, let’s get some sleep,” Lance said, lying back down.

“I don’t sleep. I only shut down.”

“Then…do that?” he suggested, raising an eyebrow at the ceiling. “Wake me up if you hear or see any—”

“I only shut down when I lose all power,” Pidge said almost clinically. “If you turn off your flashlight, I will shut down within a half-hour, and you will have to carry me outside in the morning.”

“I can do that,” Lance said, raising and flexing an arm while flashing a smirk. “You don’t look—”

“I’m heavier than I look.”

His face fell, but he couldn’t help rolling his eyes and grumbling, “Guess we’ll see in the morning. For now, I’m going to sleep. And can you close your eyes? You don’t blink, and it’s kind of freaking me out…”

***

Finding a spot sunny and sheltered enough proved harder than Lance expected, and the sun must've been well and truly over the horizon, warming the earth and turning the air a yellow-green, by the time Pidge's eyes flickered open.

"You ready to go?" he asked, crouching over her.

Pidge blinked slowly and said, "No...how far away is your residence?"

Lance raised an eyebrow. "I think I trekked about ten miles yesterday." He rifled in his pack and tugged out the wrinkled map he'd use to navigate...only to realize he hadn't bothered to make note of landmarks - except the structure where he found Pidge, which wasn't even on the map - or leave any other trail for him to follow back to the Wall.

He groaned, his shoulders slumping and dread curdling in his gut. His eyes drifted to Pidge's, taking in her curious gaze, before he turned back to the forest with his hands tight on his rifle.

How was he going to confess to her that he was lost?

But she spared him the need when she wondered, "Are you expecting something to attack us?"

Lance sighed - of course they wouldn't starve because the forest and the predators that stalked through the trees would kill them (or maybe just him since Pidge wasn't made of flesh and blood) before they even made it through his rations of nutrient packets and purification tablets! "Yes," he admitted to Pidge, "I am."

A heartbeat later, he realized how that sounded and spun towards her, kneeling on the ground and reassuring her, "But that won't happen! You're safe with me."

Well, she'd be safer with a trained Excavator, but she didn't need to know that.

Pidge frowned. "What are you expecting?" The machinery in her neck whirred as she turned her head, taking in the dense vegetation, the forest alive with the calls of birds and the hissing of reptiles and the buzzing of insects. "I-is there a war?" Her gaze roved down to stare at her small hands - visible because he'd rolled up the sleeves of his jacket for her - while she mused, "If it's been centuries, surely it would've ended by now..."

Lance blinked. "War?" He shook his head - it didn't matter - and scoffed, "Only war these days is man versus nature...and nature's winning."

"Then whose attack are you expecting, Lance?" Pidge insisted, her brow furrowing with concern.

"Uh..." He had to mentally congratulate himself for managing to worry an android, which...weren't they meant to be emotionless? But before he could ask about that, Pidge prodded him in the ribs.

"H-hey!" he exclaimed, pushing her hand away. "I'm glad you're getting your mobility back, but can you not—"

"Answer my question," she said, her fingers weakly fisting in his shirt. "Are you in danger?"

Lance licked his lips, her use of "you"...startling. And from this close he could see the details in her eyes, the shutter like that of a camera behind her pupils, the yellow color not as...yellow as he'd thought.

Brown...her eyes were brown.

"Lance?" Pidge prompted, jerking him from his thoughts both with his name and with a tug on his shirt.

"W-what? Yes, I'm in danger, and so are you." He grabbed her hand and pulled it off his shirt before bolting to his feet and circling their vicinity, peeking around the wide trunk of a moss-covered tree. "It's more dangerous at night, but there are plenty of predators creeping around during the day that would just love a taste of your flesh." He glared over his shoulder at Pidge before tapping his wristwatch.

"I don't have flesh, or blood for that matter," she pointed out. "If something attacks, it would be wiser to focus your energy on defending yourself since nothing will be interested in consuming me."

“Well, you never know what a stinging bear is in the mood for,” Lance said, forcing a smile onto his lips in a pathetic semblance of joking.

“Bears don’t sting…”

“Maybe not in your time.” Lance stretched with his arms extended over his head, a groan escaping him. His back and neck ached from sleeping - or dozing; the forest’s night sounds kept him from a proper rest - on the floor, and he longed for his own bed in the city, safe behind the Wall and far away from anything that would want to eat his face off.

Never mind that he got the chance to rescue helpless, sleeping androids like Pidge…although the efficacy of his rescue was still up in the air.

He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “So you have…feelings.”

“Yes.” Pidge toyed with a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket, an awfully human mannerism. “I suppose you’re accustomed to androids with none.”

“Well, androids are just a thing of stories now,” Lance told her. “We have more important…things to build.” Ignoring a twinge of guilt at his word choice, he propped his rifle against his shoulder and paced in a short line. “I guess an android without feelings would be as shocking to me as an android with them.”

“Stories?” Pidge stared at him, her eyes wide and incredulous. “No more androids?”

“None, except…I don’t think you’re the first that Excavators find? I mean, I guess I’m not technically an Excavator”—he rubbed the back of his neck as heat rushed to his face—”but I’ve seen some of the stuff they bring back.” His gaze drifted from the top of her head - her untidy mess of hair draping to her shoulders - down past the hem of his coat that brushed just under her knees. “None of it is in as good condition as you are, Pidge.”

Pidge raised an arm, examining the back of her hand. “That’s because my skin was of the latest synthetic model.” Her fingers flexed, no trace of blue blood vessels trailing under her skin. “I was - and am, I suppose - the only one of my kind in more than one way. A pity the skin was wasted on me…”

When her eyes fell, Lance guessed with a tightening in his chest that she thought of her programmer again.

“What do you mean by wasted?” he wondered.

“My programmer designed me to establish deeper connections with humans,” Pidge explained with an almost faraway look in her eyes. “I can feel, even if I can’t express it in a human way, and I can long, and I have a will.”

“So you express it in an android way?” Lance half-teased, a smirk pushing at his lips.

“I express it in my way,” Pidge told him, shrugging. “I can’t cry or blush anymore than I can bleed, so I have to find some other way to make my feelings known.”

“And you were the only one like that?”

She nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “No one wanted an emotional android,” she said. “Anyone my programmer tried to sell the designs to always said that if they wanted someone who could tell them no, they would…find a human partner.”

“Partner?” Lance frowned, crossing his arms. “What do you—”

But Pidge’s face twisting in distaste and anger told him everything he needed to know, his own skin running hot in answering fury.

“That’s—what the hell? Your programmer built you for—”

“No!” she snapped, her anger turning onto him so suddenly he took a step back. “My programmer only wrote the code that makes me function, and he designed me with the capacity to forge multiple and varied emotional bonds.”

Lance’s jaw dropped, stunned by her vehement defense of her programmer. “So he was like your…father?” he said lamely.

“He was my brother,” Pidge corrected, her face screwing up. “His father also became mine.” But her expression smoothed eerily before he could even consider comforting her.

Lance sighed, shifting his feet, and asked her, “How much longer till you can walk? We need to be on the move soon.”

Once he figured out which way to walk, he remembered with a creeping shame and a shiver of fear.

Pidge wiggled her bare toes, a grimace of effort crossing her face before she said, “Another ten minutes until I’m able to walk, but another hour until I’m fully charged, which I would prefer since I have been so long drained of—”

“No time,” Lance said. “Can you charge as you walk?”

“I charge as long as there is light,” she said, scowling at him.

“Good, so as soon as you can stand—”

Lance cut himself off when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His grip on his rifle tightened, and he stepped backwards towards Pidge, wary as his eyes scanned the surrounding trees.

“Lance?”

He waved a hand towards her, bidding her to stay quiet, though his heart pounded so loudly he feared it wouldn’t make a difference. The scent of rot reached his nose, his lip curling in disgust.

The shadows shifted, branches shaking, and a long, sinuous, many-legged shape slithered between them.

It hissed and charged.

Lance’s blood froze, his eyes wide and legs refusing to budge, but Pidge’s shout of alarm unstuck him. He scrambled to angle his rifle, finger finding the trigger, but it refused to budge.

“No, no no no—”

His heart raced so fast he would’ve feared it giving out if not for the nightmare bearing down on him, its mandibles clicking and grating, the jerky motion of its body making his skin crawl. He tried shooting again, not even bothering to aim, but it stuck.

Every expletive he’d ever heard escaped his lips as he threw the rifle aside and fumbled for the long knife at his belt. The hilt sat clumsily in his gloved hand, and he doubted it would make any kind of dent in its tough carapace, but he stood his ground.

“Lance, get out of its way!” Pidge shouted.

“And let it take—”

“It can’t kill me!”

Her voice sounded closer this time, but he didn’t register why until a gunshot fired from behind him.

Silence descended over the forest for half a heartbeat.

Until the giant, unscathed centipede hissed in fury and turned.

Lance turned with it, his eyes shooting wide at the sight of Pidge kneeling, her teeth gritted and his rifle clutched in her hands. “What the—”

She fired a second shot, flinching at the gun’s kickback, but she held firm.

But the monster only grew more enraged, barreling past Lance and targeting Pidge.

“No!” He dove towards her - she was clearly still weak from the way she hobbled backwards with a gasp - intent on shoving her behind him, but recoiled when something fizzled on his clothes.

Drops of liquid burst from the monster’s mandibles, eating through his sleeve and burning into his skin. Lance grimaced, pain shooting deep into his nerves, and clutched at his arm. But he was undeterred; with Pidge so immobile, he needed to get to her, to grab her and flee—

A snick of metal echoed through the trees, and a distant gunshot fired.

Something struck the back of the centipede’s neck, making it rear on its hind legs with a pained screech.

Lance took advantage of it and ran for Pidge, scooping her up. But before he could turn and run, he faltered, her shocking weight making him stumble.

“I told you,” Pidge said, trying to hop out of his arms.

“But—”

“I think I can walk now,” she protested, and she slipped down before he could stop her.

Her feet landed heavily, sinking into moss, but she kept an arm around his neck.

A gaping hole in the skin at her neck, peeking out over the collar of his coat, caught his eye, his breath catching in alarm. “Pidge, you’re—”

The monster trumpeted, startling hidden birds into flight, and dove for them.

Lance held Pidge close to him, pinching his eyes shut and bracing himself against more of the creature’s venom. The drops could burn through his flesh, but they wouldn’t get to her.

The attack never came.

Metal sliced through soft meat, a disgusting squishing sound that drew a wince from him, before something big fell and the ground trembled under his feet.

Lance dared to squint through his eyelashes, but his eyes shot all the way open when he spotted the arching, segmented body of the monster lying prone, its many legs sticking into the air at odd angles.

Over it stood two figures: Shiro, reloading a rifle, and Keith, polishing the blade on a long knife.

His breath caught as relief filled him. His legs finally gave out, and he fell to his knees, trembling. Pidge went with him, her arm still looped around his shoulder and leaning heavily against him.

“That’s a centipede,” she said hollowly. “Why is it so big?”

Shiro approached after shouldering his rifle, his eyes wide behind his face mask, and said, “Your Highness? What’re you doing Outside?”

“‘Your Highness’?” Pidge echoed, her eyes wide as she turns her head towards him. “But there isn’t any royalty in this—”

Lance elbowed her in the side, earning himself a grimace when her ribs proved harder than he expected and the shock traveled up his arm.

But her speaking brought her to the Excavators’ attention, and Keith’s brow furrowed as he laid eyes on her. “What happened to your mask?” he demanded, crouching before them.

“And…who are you?” Shiro wondered. “I know all the Excavators, and you’re not—”

“I found her,” Lance interrupted before Pidge could introduce herself. “She, uh…she’s my friend.”

He mentally kicked himself; he’d been inventing stories and excuses for his rule-breaking his entire life, so surely he could do better?

But finding a living human alive Outside - much less an android, something not human - already defied reality.

“You do seem…close,” Keith observed dryly.

Heat rushed to Lance’s face, but before he could retort, Pidge sighed and confessed, “I’m KT-005, but my programmer nicknamed me Pidge. I was…shut down for more years than I can count with limited data, but Lance woke me by accident last night. I…” A grimace crossed her face and lifted her eyes to Shiro’s. “Nothing is as I remember it, but I need to know what happened to my programmer and his father.”

Shiro held her gaze for a long heartbeat. He glanced at Keith, who only stared back with wide, bewildered eyes before shrugging, and at Lance. “So you snuck Outside and found a—what are you, miss?”

“An android,” Pidge replied. For a second she almost looked shy as a slight smile pushed at her lips.

“Whoa,” Keith breathed.

Shiro, though, looked less shocked, less impressed. He raised his hand - the cybernetic one painstakingly replaced by Duke Lotor’s mother - and curled his metal fingers into a fist.

A rapid whirring from Pidge drew Lance’s attention back to her. When he took in her wide eyes, fixed on Shiro’s hand, he shook her and muttered, “Pidge, what’s wrong?”

She pointed and said, “His hand, it’s…just like”—her eyes narrowed, her grip on Lance tightening—”a prototype my programmer and his father designed.”

#filed under: AUs i may or may not expand on #voltron #plance #pidgance #lidge #flirtyrobot #reem writes fic #i haven't posted fic in a bit or even written that much lately #but i also finished the first draft of my zine fic last night so #to celebrate i post a fic i've had done for over a week lol

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canadiankazz · 6 years

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The Ninth Time - An L.A. by Night Fanfic

This was written directly in response to Season 2 Episode 2 “Eye for an Eye.” I decided the events at the Grove also happened in my "Feeds From" Alternative Universe, wherein Jasper has been feeding from Annabelle for some time now and they have developed a Blood Bond. Assume that the Grove Incident more or less how it did in the game, but with a different ending to suit my needs and the needs of my loyal readers and new readers alike.

SPOILERS for the end of Campaign 1, the one-shots, and up to an including Episode 2 of Season 2. This was written before the author saw Episode 5 of Season 2. It’s obviously worth reading the rest of the "Feeds From" series before this part.

The Entire ‘Feeds From’ Master List Can be Found Here

I lay no claim to owning any of the characters involved.

I felt like we came teasingly close to something like the beginning of this fic series of mine happening at the end of "Eye for an Eye." Though Jasper told Annabelle "no" in the episode, in this AU, things would have gone a little differently.

Thank you to everyone who had enjoyed this series. Thank you always to @cravatfiend and @gokaiyellow for their love and support.

Also posted to the author’s Ao3.

First Posted Feb. 26, 2019.

The Ninth Time

It had been a hell of a night. Jasper was still reeling from everything. X, ghosts, Tremere, the Grove, Marcos, fire, decapitation...

He wasn't sure which was worse, the physical pain from his injuries, or his Beast gnashing and clawing at his insides in silent rage. He had over taxed his body tonight, and was going to be paying for it for several nights to come. It was worth it, he told himself. The Tremere were safe. Annabelle was safe. It was worth it. It was worth it.

Annabelle had offered to help him when he told her he was leaving the club's basement to go home to do what he could to fix himself. He had eyed the others in the room. His and Annabelle's relationship had been successfully kept secret from the rest of the coterie and the world at large so far. He knew she was worried about him. He didn't need a Blood Bond to tell him that. At the same time, however, he didn't want to risk anyone finding out, so he had told her no, there was nothing he would have her do.

And so he left without her, and made his way home via the sewers.

Jasper's phone rang. It was Baron Abrams' number. Jasper snarled to himself, preparing for an uncomfortable discussion. Abrams was very likely aware of what had happened at the Grove by now. Jasper answered it, holding the phone up to his non-burned side. “Hello?”

The connection was a little choppy. Phone signal was sometimes difficult in the sewers and tunnels. “Jasper? I can barely hear you. Where are you?” Issac Abrams asked.

“My apologies. I am underground at the moment, sir.”

“Ah. I am aware of what happened at the Grove. Victor called me. Also... I have seen the web video he posted.”

Jasper growled. Damn Victor and his stupid live stream. “Things did, unfortunately, get a little out of control.”

“... Are you alright? You sound rough.”

“I was injured in the events. I'll be fine.” He sure as hell didn't look or feel fine, but he wasn't telling the Baron about that.

“Well, I'm glad you'll live. I'm not calling to shout at you about that. I'm going to pay Victor a visit tomorrow night.”

Jasper grinned. He hoped he would be there for that.

“No, I'm calling about the individual I sent to you,” Abrams said.

Jasper had also been expecting something like this. The Ivory Tower were moving in and he had a prisoner who belonged to them in the cage in his sanctum. In particular, he had Chaz Price as his prisoner. He had only been there for a few months, but it had been a very busy few months. It had brought Jasper a lot of sadistic joy having Chaz to torment, but it had meant that Annabelle was unable to visit him at his sanctum. She didn't know about Chaz, and Nelli certainly didn't know either.

“Yes?”

“Vanovar has negotiated for a prisoner swap. He tried to go back on it, but I'm holding him to it. Mr. Price is going to be removed from your safekeeping.”

“Who of ours did they have prisoner?”

“That is not something I can divulge with you, Jasper. Can you have Mr. Price prepared for transport in the next hour?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I will send a team to pick him up in one hour. We will talk more later about what happened at the Grove tomorrow night. I'm not at all happy, Jasper.”

“Nor should you be,” Jasper agreed.

Abrams hung up. Jasper put his phone away.

Well, this did change things. Part of him was a little disappointed to lose Chaz, but a more overwhelming part of him was glad. Soon Annabelle could visit him at home again. It meant he had to get a move on through. He couldn't stop and rest yet, as badly as his body and soul was crying out for it.

Jasper was in an awful lot of pain. He had been shot, and he knew he had torn, bruised or otherwise pulled almost every muscle and tendon in his arms and shoulders. As bad as that was, however, it paled in comparison to the pain of the burn Kyoko the Tremere had accidentally given him. His skin on the left side of his face was black and scorched, from nose to ear and scalp down his neck almost to his shoulder. It had missed his eye by millimetres. Every facial expression hurt. He wasn't angry at Kyoko, but only because she had been overly apologetic about it and he had made a promise to Eva to make sure the Wyrd Sisters came to no harm. Jasper was beyond exhausted, but he had to push himself, just a little more. Then he could rest, and be ready for whatever chaos would happen due to his actions at the Grove that night.

As soon as Jasper got into his sanctum, he made a bee line for his cage. Chaz was sitting with his back against the bars. He glanced at Jasper when he came in and did a double-take. “Good Lord!”

“Hi, Chaz.” Jasper grinned and growled. “I have good news.”

Chaz got to his feet, eyeing Jasper. “Well, seeing as it appears you've come face-to-face with one of the banes, I would consider that good news already! It's only disappointing they didn't finish the job properly,” he sneered.

“Ha,” Jasper said dryly. “Yes. There was an unfortunate accident tonight, but that's not the good news.”

Chaz arched a perfect Toreador eyebrow at him. “Then what, pray tell, is the good news?”

Jasper grabbed at him. He had enough energy left to catch him, though he tore Chaz's shirt again as he struggled to escape. Jasper didn't care. He bit down hard into Chaz's arm, ignoring the hiss of pain and protest. He drained enough to weaken his prisoner and stifle his own Beast for the time being. Then he grabbed the stake he kept close by and, while Chaz was still recovering, plunged it into his chest. Chaz's face became frozen in a sneer of rage and pain. Jasper unlocked the cell and painfully dragged his body out. He secured a black pillow case over Chaz's head for good measure and tied his arms behind his back with zip ties. He was not at all delicate in dragging Chaz up the tunnels that lead out to his front door and was quite happy to turn it over to Abrams' men when they arrived. Jasper returned to his now quiet sanctum and smiled. Already, things felt more peaceful.

He texted Annabelle in their private chat. “I know what I said before, but I was just covering because of the others in the room. Can you come over?”

It took her a little while to reply. “To your place? What about your GUEST?”

Jasper smirked at her capitalisation. “The guest has been removed. Abrams has taken him away.”

“Good,” she replied. “I'd love to come over, but I can't leave. There's a massive crowd outside because of the live stream.”

Jasper snarled to himself. He didn't want to have to go all the way back to the club to get her, but she didn't know the tunnels like he did. “I'll come back and get you. We'll go the back way,” he texted.

“Through the... thing?”

“No. We'll skirt the edge of it.”

“Okay. I'll make an excuse to Victor. See you in a bit.”

Just before he put his phone away, he noticed a single heart emoji she had sent him.

Walking all the way back to Club Maharajah seemed to take forever. He tried to heal as he went. He knew that the burn would take a long time to go away, but he could at least do something about the ache in his arms. He felt incredibly weary and brain dead. He just wanted to lie down and let everything stop for a little while. Soon, soon he could, and even better, soon Annabelle would be by his side again.

He texted Annabelle when he got to the secret door that led to Victor's basement and waited for Annabelle to appear. He had a few minutes to wait, but eventually, Annabelle crept out and joined him in the tunnels. She looked at him with a mixture of sadness, relief and fear, taking in his burns once again. “Oh, Jasper...” she sighed. She put her arms around him and hugged him gently.

“I'll be alright,” he assured her softly as they pulled away from their hug. He sounded exhausted. “I want to go home though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let's get you home,” she agreed.

He started back down the tunnels with her. Annabelle held his hand as they walked. Neither of them noticed the rat hiding in the shadows of the tunnel, watching them carefully. It followed them down the passage, making sure to keep far enough away to remain unnoticed, but close enough to see and hear them.

“So... what the hell happened in that stairwell?” Annabelle demanded after a minute.

Jasper sighed. “Well... the Wyrd Sisters were stopped half way down by police, who were shooting at them. I jumped down the stairs to protect them and I knocked out the cops. Little did I know that the Tremere were preparing a spell, and it hit me instead of the cops.”

Annabelle's eyes went very wide. “You mean they cast fireball?!”

“Yup. And it hit me right in the face.”

“Oh, my God... did you know they could do that?”

“Nope.”

“Did you kill the police?”

“I don’t know. I tried not to.”

“And what happened then?”

“I Frenzied. I ran. I panicked... I'm lucky I stopped before I ran out into the parking lot.”

Annabelle squeezed his hand. “I felt like you were in trouble. I was so afraid when I saw that Sheriff guy outside the door... I just ran at him. I tried to stake him.”

“Yeah. I saw the stake. It was a good thought Annabelle, but your aim was a little off.” He was so proud of her. “You are so strong.”

“And then you jumped out and...”

“...and I cut his head off. Yeah.”

“The look on his face was priceless! He never saw you coming.” Annabelle let out a little sigh, trying not to smell the sewage as they passed. “We're going to be in big trouble for that, aren't we?” It wasn't really a question. Annabelle knew enough about the political climate to know that there would be major consequences.

Jasper shrugged with a little wince. “I'll be in trouble. You'll be fine.”

“I won't let them hurt you,” she vowed.

“I don't know if you could stop them if they really tired, but... I appreciate it, Annabelle.”

They continued walking. He could tell that Annabelle was upset. She was also still a little hurt from being thrown into a smart car, but she was far better off than he was.

“I'm glad that your prisoner is gone,” she said softly as they got to the door to his sanctum.

“I am too,” he confessed as he pulled the door open.

The interior of his sanctum had changed little since Annabelle was last there. Jasper heaved the door closed behind her with a sigh. The rat, who had followed them all the way there unnoticed, paused to scratch itself, then it scampered off towards Griffith College.

Inside the sanctum, Annabelle was checking her phone. She groaned. “Damn it, Victor...”

“What?”

“Everyone I know is messaging me about the live stream and the Baby B thing,” Annabelle mumbled as she scrolled her phone. “Shit... people I haven't seen in forever... some people I've been trying to avoid...” She sighed and turned her phone off. “I'm not dealing with any of that right now. I'm here for you.”

“I have something to show you,” Jasper said.

“Yeah?”

He led her through to his bedroom and she smiled when she saw what he had done in there. His tiny single bed was gone. In its place was something closer to a queen size. He also had an end table in there now, near the bed. Both looked cheap and simple, but Annabelle was glad all the same. “Aww, Jasper! You got a real bed!”

“I did, yes, in the hopes you'd eventually be able to come back down here.” He went over to it and sat down with a pained, but relieved sigh.

“It's good.” Annabelle sat next to him and frowned at his burns again. “Will you let me help you now?”

“There's really not a lot you can do.”

“I want to try though.” He looked like he was going to protest and she cut him off. “You're really not in any position to say no, Jasper,” she snapped.

He snarled a little to himself. It was already harder for him to say no to her lately because of their Bond, but when she used that stern tone of voice he found it next to impossible. “Alright.”

“Okay. Thank you.” She softened her voice. “First things first... hoodie off, please.”

He growled.

“Jasper...” she scolded. “Don't make that face at me.”

Reluctantly, he lowered his hood and started to gingerly remove the hoodie. There was burn damage to it as well, and he hissed in pain when the fabric pulled away from where it had stuck to his burned flesh. Annabelle bit her lip as the extent of the damage was released. The skin around the edge of the burn was black, curled and flaking. The flesh visible inside was red and sore. It was bad enough to make Annabelle ignore the fact that Jasper was now sitting there, temporarily naked from the waist up. “Jesus...” she breathed. “That looks bad.”

“It feels worse.”

“Can you take painkillers? Would painkillers even work?”

“No. Can't take any pills, and even if they did work, I don't have any medicines here anyway.”

“So... you just have to deal with the pain?” Annabelle sounded heart broken.

“Yeah.”

Annabelle's lower lip trembled. He could feel her sadness towards him.

“C-can I at least dress the wound?” she offered. “Would that help?”

“No... I think we should leave it. I don't have to worry about infection. I will heal, Annabelle,” he tried to reassure her. He took her hand. “It might take me a few nights, but soon I'll be good as new. Well... new-ish. All I need is blood and time. Thank you though. I know you're trying to help. I'm glad you're here.”

“I can give you blood,” Annabelle said.

“What about your injuries?”

“I'm fine. Just a bruise.” She couldn't help but smile a little. “The car got it worse than me.”

“He could have killed you,” he said softly. “I was incredibly lucky to be able to stop him.”

“I know,” Annabelle said. “When I saw him walking around after you pushed him off the roof, I knew that... attacking him was stupid, but... he was going to...” Her voice broke with emotion as she fought back a few tears. The whole situation had been very intense and now that the adrenaline from it had well and truly faded, other emotions forced their way in.

“You did good, Annabelle,” he assured her. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

She wiped away a blood tear. “I just... I don't want to lose you.”

“I don't want to lose you either. But I'm still here, mostly. You're still here. Everyone we care about or were trying to protect are still here. We've survived to fight another night.”

Annabelle nodded. She went to hug him and suddenly remembered that he was shirtless. She hesitated, looking at his torso. He was pale as death, and in the dim light of the bedroom, his skin looked almost grey. Her eyes were drawn to the black veins that crossed his skin. They made him look like he had some kind if disease from a fantasy novel.

Jasper noticed her hesitation. “I'm going to get another hoodie. I'll be right back.” He got up with a small grimace and headed to his closet. He retrieved one from the tiny hidden room behind a bookcase he kept them in and slipped it on. He hated being exposed. He accepted that he could not change what he looked like, but that didn't mean he had to look at himself. There were very deliberately no mirrors in his sanctum. Jasper left his hood down for now, to avoid having the fabric stick to the burn again. He returned to his bedroom. Annabelle was waiting.

“It's stupid that you don't keep your clothes in your bedroom,” she told him. “If you can get a better bed, you can get a dresser.”

He smirked. “Noted.” He reclined back on his new bed, making sure to keep Annabelle on his non-burned side. He allowed himself a groan and growl of pain. Annabelle leaned against him carefully. He could feel her relaxing gradually.

“I still would like to feed you, if you'd let me,” she mumbled.

“I'm okay.”

Annabelle looked doubtful. “You don't look okay. You look like you're in pain, and if my blood will help with that, then I want to give it to you.”

Jasper was truly too exhausted to argue. He also was in a lot of pain. He wanted to itch at his face and couldn't, so he made a fist instead. He watched as Annabelle pulled one arm out of the sleeve of her jacket, wincing slightly as she did so, and offered him her wrist. He looked from her wrist to her face and back again, still reluctant.

“Please?” Annabelle said. “Just a little bit. Then I'll feel I've helped and I'll stop bothering you about it. You started a war to save my life. It's the least I can do.”

Jasper sighed and gave in. “Alright.” He sat up a little in bed and took Annabelle's hand and arm gently in his hands. He considered her smooth skin for a moment, then bit down gently on her wrist. He was mindful not to damage her tendons. Annabelle gasped and flinched, but forced herself to hold still. It had been a very long time since he had fed on her like this – from the wrist and without her activating Blush of Life first. Her Vitae lacked the potent warmth that he had tasted in her then, but it was still rich and nourishing. He heard Annabelle moan softly through closed lips as the pleasure of the Kiss kicked in. This wasn't an orgasmic bite, but it wasn't intended to be. He spent a few seconds licking gently as her skin as the blood seeped out. He could taste her affection for him as well as her anxieties. She wanted to protect him just as much as he wanted to protect her.

Before long, he licked her wound closed. He hadn't taken much from her as all this time, but she seemed satisfied with his effort all the same.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he let her arm go.

She surprised him by placing a gentle kiss on the non-burned side of his head, just above his ear and temple. He felt her soft lips and the brush of her hair on his skin. Jasper blinked, but when he glanced at her, she had put her arm back inside her sleeve and snuggled down, hugging him gently around his ribs, as if she hadn't kissed him at all. He knew he hadn't imagined it, but decided he wouldn’t say anything about it if she didn't. She looked nearly as tired as he felt. He relaxed down next to her, resting burned-side up.

“The new bed is good.” Annabelle concluded, sounding sleepy.

“I'm glad you approve. And... until Abrams makes me babysit some other Ivory Tower asshole, you are welcome here any time. Just give me a heads up in case I'm not home.”

“Thank you.”

Annabelle snuggled herself closer, tucking herself gently under his chin. She was very mindful of his burns, careful not to touch them at all. He put a protective arm around her back.

When dawn broke over the city and the morning news reported on the Incident at the Grove, Jasper and Annabelle missed it. They were snug safely in his haven, sleeping the sleep of the dead.

#la by night #fanfiction #l.a. by night #fanfic #vampire the masquerade #jasper/annabelle #jaspabelle #alternate universe #hurt/comfort #times jasper fed from annabelle

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haystarlight · 3 years

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#like i don't like how she's causing luz so much pain and heart ache and i believe luz should stay in the boiling isles

My Top Posts in 2021

No, you don't understand

It's 2021. Gay marriage has only been legal in the state of New York since 2011. 10 years.

So, legally, Holt and Kevin have only been married for 10 years.

And yet, Holt says Kevin has been his husband for 20 years. Because he considers him his husband for as long as they've been living together, no matter what the law says.

Excuse me while I die

614 notes • Posted 2021-09-17 16:16:30 GMT

shout out to Amphibia (and Adventure Time, too) for including subtitles when a character is speaking another language (Anne’s dad speaking Thai, Lady and Lee speaking Korean).

I wish more movies and TV shows did this, specially children’s media.

when I was little, I grew up on a country that mainly spoke Spanish, it was the only language I knew. but, then, I started watching My Little Pony in English with Spanish subtitles and that really helped me learn English. I started reading faster and faster and, eventually, I didn’t need the subtitles anymore.

whoever made those Youtube videos of the MLP episodes with the color coded subtitles is my fucking hero and I don’t even remember what channel it was.

I want English-speaking kids to have subtitles when a character speaks another language, it helps the story so much and removes the barrier between people.

I seriously hope that other children’s media follows suit. I want there to be subtitles when Camila Noceda speaks Spanish, when General Amaya speaks ASL (when The Dragon Prince comes back in 100 years).

I hate it when the captions just say “(Speaking Spanish)” instead of actually telling you what the characters are saying. how hard is it? “(Spanish) Don’t worry, everything will be okay!” “(Spanish) Nothing will work, unless I make it work!”. there, I did it.

TLDR; subtitles aren’t bad. most people can read and they don’t mind them. scrath that, they need them. if anyone doesn’t like subtitles, for whatever weird reason, they can just ignore them.

689 notes • Posted 2021-10-04 15:44:51 GMT

Florida Girl Goes Missing For 3 Months Comes Back With Alien Found Family And Proof Of A Multiverse

783 notes • Posted 2021-05-22 14:02:04 GMT

Shout out to Tía Pepa who:

1. Is a light skinned white passing latina in an animated movie made by yankees. Not a lot of light skinned white passing latinos in movies like these. The only other one I can think of is Angie Diaz (Marco's mom from Star vs the forces of evil).

2. She's 50 and she has a 5 year old son so the math tells me she got pregnant at 44, which is badass. Getting pregnant at all is badass but like, most women at 44 are going through menopause and shit.

3. Is just really funny and expressive and her design and everything, she's sooooooo cool.

4. Having just the best relationship with her husband. I love watching them dance during We Don't Talk About Bruno. (Also, Félix took her last name, which is just a YES)

1108 notes • Posted 2021-11-26 01:45:44 GMT

Ladybug and Chat Noir successfully convince the rest of Paris (or at least, the ones that don’t know the truth) that they’re in a polyamorous quartet with Marinette and Adrien.

the magazines go nuts with Ladrienettechat speculation and they snap pictures of all of them. Adrien Agreste becomes a poly enby bi icon and the Agreste brand is more popular than ever. photographers scramble to catch a glympse of Maribug and Adrichat by themselves but they only find (photoshoped and edited by Nino) pictures and videos online.

reporters follow Adrienette around trying to get them to reveal the secret identities of their boyfriend and girlfriend. the ice cream dude is losing his shit.

Alya is dying.

2311 notes • Posted 2021-11-02 14:13:51 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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newstfionline · 7 years

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How to Complain and Get Results

By Christopher Mele, NY Times, June 15, 2017

The blender does not blend. Your vacation was spoiled by a late flight. Or the cabinet you bought is as sturdy as wet cardboard.

When products or services fail, it’s easy to feel as if your complaints to the company responsible disappear into a black hole. While there a no magic words, there are a few tricks to help your complaint get a friendlier reading. All it takes is a little finesse, and some good documentation.

“Deal with your emotions,” Meg Marco, executive editor of Consumerist, which is a part of Consumer Reports, said. The most effective letters of complaint are confident and calm, so do not make threats or write in uppercase letters as if you were shouting.

It may feel like ranting helps you communicate how unhappy you are, but stick to the relevant details. Keep your emotions--and sarcasm--in check, or you run the risk of turning your reader against you. Get the shouting out of your system first, then sit down to write.

Be clear about what you want. State your “conditions of satisfaction,” C. William Crutcher, president of the National Customer Service Association, wrote in an email. What are you expecting from the company? Be reasonable, though. The remedy you seek should be proportionate to the problem you experienced. If you had a terrible meal at a restaurant, ask for a refund or credit to a future dinner. Don’t, however, ask for a brand new car just because the tail light went out a month after you drove it off the lot.

Be focused and think about what you want, Kit Yarrow, a consumer psychologist and a professor emerita of psychology and marketing at Golden Gate University in San Francisco, wrote in an email. Do you want the company to improve, get compensation for your issue or simply complain?

Jennifer Thomas, a leadership consultant and co-writer of “When Sorry Isn’t Enough,” suggested treating your demand for a remedy like a salary negotiation: Don’t be the first to name your price. Wait and see what they offer.

“If it’s insufficient, then you politely tell them that it’s inadequate in your eyes,” she wrote in an email.

Be succinct. Go light on the details and don’t treat your letter like a legal brief with multiple exhibits. “You don’t need to paste the whole chat log,” Ms. Marco said.

The first paragraph of your letter or email should be no more than seven lines.

“Basically the first paragraph is the only thing that is going to get read carefully,” said John A. Goodman, vice chairman of Customer Care Measurement and Consulting in Alexandria, Va. “Once you have more than seven lines or bullet points, everybody sees gray.”

Your letter should be no more than a page, single-spaced, Ms. Thomas wrote. Be specific about dates, times, names and locations. Attach documentation if necessary or a list of other items you can provide if they’re requested. Photos are helpful.

Write a ‘complaint sandwich.’ Guy Winch, a psychologist in Manhattan and author of “The Squeaky Wheel: Complaining the Right Way to Get Results and Improve Your Relationships and Enhance Self-Esteem,” recommended a layered approach.

Your opening line can be something positive about how long you’ve been a customer or why you like a company’s product. It signals you are being measured, he said.

The “lean meat” of the sandwich should be your complaint, presenting the relevant details as briefly as possible. The last layer should end on a positive note such as “I really hope you can resolve this issue for me” or “I hope to continue my relationship with the company.”

Avoid these mistakes. Don’t exaggerate your history as a customer as a way to get attention. Customer service representatives can find your purchase history.

Avoid foul language. It will erode your credibility.

Don’t ask to be compensated for lost time. You may have wasted several hours on a defective product or waiting for a service, but demanding to be reimbursed for it will be seen as being unreasonable, Mr. Goodman said.

Keep track. Mr. Goodman recommended getting the name of anyone who responds (even it’s just a first name) and note any case number assigned to your complaint. If you don’t get one, ask for it. You want some way to reference your issue in the future, without explaining your issue all over again. You also want to make sure you have records of who promised what and when, so no one can pretend those conversations never happened.

Consider escalating. An email or web-based form you complete will get routed to a low-level customer care center or outside contractor, Mr. Goodman said.

To improve the chances of a response, mail or email your complaint to the company’s president or other executives. You can search online for company contacts and addresses and on the professional networking site LinkedIn, he said.

Consumerist calls this approach the Executive Email Carpet Bomb, a well-written message to the right group of corporate executives. Keep it short, polite and use it as a last resort. Even if the executive themselves doesn’t address it, they’ll likely forward it to an assistant or customer service manager who will.

Avoid complaining on social media. It may be tempting to blast a company on its Facebook page or on Twitter, but doing so will not necessarily fix your problem.

“Social media is really about shaming the company into taking action,” Ms. Yarrow wrote. “If you think the company is honorable and will help if they know the trouble they’ve caused, don’t use social media.”

If direct contact fails, post on rating sites like Yelp or Angie’s List, where other consumers will look for feedback on the company that’s wronged you, Ms. Yarrow wrote. Consider the company’s Twitter or Facebook as a last resort. Check their accounts first to make sure they actually conduct customer service there. Many companies have special accounts for support, while others just direct customers to call or email instead.

#complaints #consumer complaints

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the-martial-law-thingy · 7 years

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I’ve been looking through posts about Marawi in Tumblr and I feel like I should share some food for thought

A lot of people from Mindanao and Visayas are annoyed and angry at Filipinos currently protesting against martial law this time, especially since most are from Luzon. And I’ll be blunt, your anger is justified, they’re being pretentious.

But there are reasons to their actions, not just because they’re allergic to anything related to ‘martial law’. It does not excuse their hastiness and quick generalization over a very serious threat to people, but I feel everyone deserves to see a bit of both sides. This is just my introspection of it.

We do not have a good relation with martial law thanks to Ferdinand Marcos. Yes, there will be apologists. Yes, there will be people whose lives have genuinely become better because of him. But the fact that his bad overwhelms his good will remain the same.

Martial law victims exist, many are dead and are still missing. Many are alive, most are still scarred from it. And a lot of Filipinos don’t care about that.

Marcos’ burial in Libingan ng mga Bayani is proof of that. A lot of those surviving victims, the ones who were detained and tortured, broke down and cried when they heard the news. My friend’s father did, and I’m sure several of my professors did as well.

And before, during, and after the burial? A lot of people protesting against the burial were harassed. Some just because they were affiliated with schools who were actively protesting. There were many students from my college whose Facebook accounts were hacked just because they studied in UP Diliman, the same with Ateneo. I don’t know with La Salle, but they probably had problems too. A lot of people began to harass children who were shown to protest as well (this was mainly due to one of Mocha Uson’s typically misinformed posts).

Guys would make rape jokes and tell women online that their mouths were better used to suck their dicks rather than protesting. People chanting bayaran, bayaran, bayaran. Yellowtard, yellowtard, yellowtard. (to UP students) Sayang lang taxes namin sa yo.

During my lolo’s cremation, this was December, after the Marcos burial, one of his friends were chatting with me. He asked where I studied, and I said UP Diliman.

He shook his fist like how Duterte supporters do and said to my face “Marcos pa rin!” and then laughed at my face, like that was supposed to be funny. His friends laughed as well. It wasn’t funny, I remember posts keep telling me I was a waste of taxes. I remember ML victims heartbreaking stories. I remember a lot don’t care.

And my experiences are mild compared to others. I have friends who have families who were martial law victims, I know people who join protests and have faced shittier people than an old man saying “Marcos pa rin!” to my face. People have put graffiti on the People Power Revolution statue, have shouted at students younger than them, have denied that parts of our history don’t exist.

There was one student who was terrified of their GrabTaxi driver because he was so passionate about Marcos and Duterte. That she was scared to talk and say something that would make the driver attack them.

You have people telling you not many died, it’s just an exaggeration. You have people telling you that their family didn’t experience that, so it didn’t happen (yes, because your family is the whole population of the Philippines). You have people telling you not to post false information when you pull up the location of Bantayog ng mga Bayani. You have people dismissing things that happened like the famine in Negros Occidental or the brutal rape, torture, and murders of thousands of people - saying it’s okay since Marcos made the economy better.

And Ilocos Norte, ooooooh, that place is beautiful and also very... bizarre in their history of Ferdinand Marcos.

We’d already lost a battle against Marcos when his LNMB burial was pushed through. What stings is we aren’t even fighting against Marcos, he’s dead, he can’t do anything. We were against fellow Filipinos.

And then the drug war happens, and most of us are baffled with the blatant hypocrisy happening. With the Marcos burial, everyone was telling people to be kind and forgive sinners. With the drug war, every criminal should be killed, even minors. No mercy, no due process. Just death.

People are happy with it, they see less impoverished people loitering. It’s a slow and gradual cause and effect we saw, that majority don’t care as long as it’s not in their personal sphere. They weren’t ML victims so they support Marcos, they aren’t poor so they don’t care about the EJKs. If it benefits them, they’ll support it even more. EJKs mean less poor and sketchy people in their path, so they’re happy - even if innocent are killed. Marcos made them rich in some way so they’re happy - even if innocent are killed. Everyone that they don’t personally know is just collateral damage. They make it about them.

I’m not asking for you to understand. I’m just saying all this so at least you kind of get it now. We like making this about ourselves, and it’s happening now.

To the people protesting martial law, I will say this bluntly: This isn’t about you. This isn’t about Marcos or the ML victims or the EJKs. This. Isn’t. About. You.

There is a time and place to protest about martial law, and now is not the time. You are unknowingly making Marawi and Mindanao as collateral damage, you are making more enemies. You are being hypocrites, showing how much you’re ignorant of the current martial law and the current victims and the current situation.

You do not consider the situation in Marawi seriously because it’s not in your personal sphere. You’re not a terrorist victim, so you don’t know how important military power is. You’re not in Marawi, so you don’t think of the consequences if martial law is lifted. The lack of martial law benefits you and the people around you, so you’re against it. Everyone else is collateral damage.

Stop.

Take a deep breath.

You can fight against martial law another time, but now is not the time.

This isn’t about you, this isn’t about Marcos, this isn’t about the ML victims. Not this time. It might be after 60 days, but now is not the time.

I know a lot of ML victims are terrified and scared with martial law, but please consider, the people in Marawi are experiencing similar things you’ve experienced. Perhaps worse. Unless somebody is personally attacking you, please don’t forget this. Your battle hasn’t started, it may not even begin.

Stay vigilant, use your freedom to make sure the military doesn’t go out of line, but never forget that this is about Marawi. Not Marcos, not EJKs, not the ML victims. That’s for another day.

#sad emoticon thoughts #marawi #philippines #martial

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ghostmartyr · 7 years

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SnK 96 Thoughts

The good news is, we’re not in Marley anymore.

That’s it.

Boy do I wish we were in Marley.

That’s maybe an unfair thing to say, because if we were still on Marley, I would probably spend the next five to ten paragraphs complaining about why we shouldn’t be on Marley, but my initial response to this chapter is to ask what is volume 24 ending with that is so important we have to drag out the story like this?

That is definitely an unfair thing to say, but I feel it.

As a piece of the story, I’m mostly okay with this existing. One of the nice things about Isayama not following standard pacing techniques is that unnecessary expansions can contain some nice character moments. His characters are great, so that works out.

In the distant future, where we didn’t wait a month to see Wall Maria falling one more time.

(If the person who suggested that we’ll get back to the Paradis crew once Reiner has finished flashbacking his perspective of the entire manga turns out to be right, I... I don’t even know. No.)

As someone who’s not particularly attached to RAB... uh.

I like how they were always terrible at coming up with plans together (”we were going to do this stretch with two people, but now that we don’t have two people, we’re going to do the exact same plan, only it will nearly kill you before anything is accomplished. aaaand break!”)

I like the page of Bertolt staring up at the wall.

I like Dina walking past Bertolt (she made a promise to the man she loves, after all).

I like every moment Annie is not in a crystal.

But this is so dull, considering where we currently are in the story. We’ve just been introduced to all the horror that is Marely, we’ve seen none of the Paradis cast for four years, in-universe, and instead of doing anything with that, now we’re back to material that the very first chapter covered.

It’s like reading the instruction manual for the desk that you just watched someone put together.

Were previously unknown details established? Yes.

Was there any reason to bother? Depends on how much value you place on the reading of instruction manuals for its own sake.

There are plenty of moments I will be happy that we have now, but mostly I’m staring sideways at my screen and wondering if anyone would notice if I just didn’t bother writing a chapter post this month.

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah; blah blah blah blah blah blah blah--blah blah. Blah. Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah.

Blah blah blah blah.

Blah.

One of the interesting tidbits we did get this month was the origin of the story Bertolt tells Eren and Armin.

A man sees a monster and runs for his life, considering nothing else. He leaves his children to die, and survives to kill himself.

Reiner, Annie, and Bertolt don’t have children, but they do leave their friend behind, as well as Jaws. Then they spend the next five years letting their consciences and circumstances tighten the nooses around their necks.

So far, Bertolt’s the only dead one.

I like that he’s the one who the story sticks with. The day it happens is a nightmare for all involved except Ymir, but Reiner and Annie are the ones shouting at each other over it. They don’t need someone else to give their experiences a voice.

Bertolt, who has always believed that he has no will of his own, borrows the dead man’s voice for a little while. He remembers what it’s like to run blindly from death, only for more death to be waiting when he stops.

In other Bertolt news, hey, it took fifty chapters, but I finally believe that Bertolt has a crush on Annie!

I have no feelings about that, but four for you, manga! You go!

Also, despite being the only one to ever suggest that Eren needs help learning how to talk to girls, add Annie to the list of characters who completely misses the obvious in terms of romance.

Dude, if someone strongly objects to you saying you don’t have seductive charms, that might be a slight indication of them considering you attractive. Just saying.

...I think Annie probably has no feelings on Bertolt having a crush on her, either. Tough break, kid. I mean, we already know that you die without telling her, but maybe this makes it easier to be at peace with that.

Speaking of Annie, I forgot how much I appreciate her perspective: “This all sucks, everyone sucks, I am an everyone.”

Going back to the tried and true word producer of comparing Marley kids to Paradis kids, when Historia goes on her rant about how the titans should just go ahead and eat everyone, she’s saving her new friend’s life.

When Annie expresses a similar sentiment, she’s kicking the life out of Reiner.

That about sums up the general psychological health of Marley Eldians versus Paradis Eldians: Appalling, but one side has the option of undergoing treatment.

If you really want to have fun with it, or are just really, really bored and trying to come up with something less boring to say, this chapter is titled, “The Door of Hope.” Taking that literally, RAB knock down that door, opening the rest of the world to hope. That thing Paradis still has, and can fight for under its own name.

The hope Marleyan Eldians have feeds a negative loop that furthers the suffering of their people despite their best efforts. Paradis, as it stands, has grown people who have started taking steps outside their harmful cycles, bringing about positive change to themselves, and possibly the world.

...Taking this another flight down the touchy-feely route, Marley, and the First King, are of the opinion that Spiral energy is going to doom the world, and needs to be contained or destroyed.

The Survey Corps is Team Dai-Gurren.

Anti-Spiral: You continue to struggle, even knowing what you know? Simon: Of course we do! The tomorrow that we're trying to grab for ourselves... is not the tomorrow that you've set out for us! It's the tomorrow that we choose for ourselves: a tomorrow that we choose out of all the infinite universes. We'll fight our way through. We'll keep fighting and protect the universe! We'll stop the Spiral Nemesis too! Anti-Spiral: You can't possibly accomplish all that! Simon: Just watch us!!

Jury’s still out on whether they’re actually Team Dai-Gurren, or some of those no-name Spiral Warrior schmucks that leave a graveyard behind, but the underlying principle that’s shielded the people we know on Paradis is that if there’s a wrong, it should be fought, and it can be fixed, even if they don’t know how yet.

Marleyan Eldians aren’t protected by that belief, so we get Annie repeatedly kicking Reiner in the face in lieu of accomplishing anything helpful.

That sounds about right.

I’ve avoided talking about Reiner this chapter, because I’ve done a lot of complaining already, and I don’t want my dislike of the guy to make this a totally unfun read.

The scene where he brings Annie and Bertolt over to his way of thinking is the latest example of why Reiner’s status as an interesting character doesn’t endear him to me.

Reiner’s tied up in a million different knots before he ever steps foot on Paradis. His mother plants a purpose in his heart that turns to desperate, slavish devotion, that makes him break instead of bend. His father destroys the dream that inspires it all. Once he does reach Paradis, Marcel completely shatters his confidence and self-worth.

All that’s left is his mother.

All that’s left is the mission.

Reiner commits himself beyond sense. He doesn’t simply decide on a course of action; he has to perform. This has to work. He covers up his fragility with twisted cords of steel that refuse to give an inch.

This is how he survives, and he won’t let Bertolt and Annie talk themselves out of it. They’re doing this. If they don’t want to, he’ll make them want to.

“So in other words, you’re going to threaten us to protect yourself?”

Reiner says he doesn’t know, but that’s what he does. The boy who turns into a man who will consistently throw himself in the way of physical harm to protect his comrades will throw them under the bus to help them all out of the street. Physical safety isn’t one of his top priorities outside of this incident, but emotional safety repeatedly sees him lashing out.

He terrorizes Falco because he’s poking holes in a system that Reiner can’t turn his back on.

He screams Marley fanaticism at Galliard for calling him the least likely to be chosen as a Warrior.

He threatens Annie into helping him kill Marco so that Bertolt doesn’t have to.

He makes similar arguments to get them back on track for breaking down the wall, because this can’t end without success.

Reiner’s suffered unspeakably, but he has a nasty tendency to wield that trauma as a weapon against people who are getting in the way of the goals that trauma gave birth to in the first place. He does not bend. He breaks, and reforges, and will break other people to make it to the finish line.

He’s the one who binds himself, Annie, and Bertolt together. He creates the rallying cry of going home. He gives them the fuel to move forward.

Because he needs this to work.

The older he gets, the more he models himself after Marcel and the more he becomes a sturdy soldier, the more he finds his true cause. He finds stability. He can act on belief, not desperation. As he tells Shadis on the final page, he’s here to save humanity, and he means it.

But under the surface is this complete mess that got him to that conclusion, and it still has its grip on him. He doesn’t know what’s right or wrong, but he does know that he’s going to see his duty through until the end. That’s what he has left to work with.

He still needs his mission to go right. It’s quieter now that he has more skill and experience, but deep down he’s just as emotionally fragile as he's always been, and the paths that drives him down at breakneck speed haven’t changed all that much.

Reiner’s a character who just... bothers me, because the emotional destruction he causes people doesn’t seem to register as long as the end is okay.

Not that the end has ever really been okay.

It’s obviously a way more extreme problem as a child (Reiner strangling Annie while he says they’ll all go home together is possibly more disturbing than Eren murdering people at a younger age), but his problem resolution skills could still use a remedial course or five.

Anyway, yeah.

This has been... a post.

To wrap it all up, let me just say that Annie is the best, and despite the whining, seeing the disastrously unchill murder children trying to make things work is always a trip.

...Is that what we find out at the end of 24?

She’s coming out of the crystal?

The 98 hype is real.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 96 #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #Reiner Braun #tl;dr #chapter post #sorry this post is what it is #I don't really have anything funny to add #I'm just sorry

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hongbubs · 7 years

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@cinnamonsnow sent me an ask thing so prepare for a loooong Haikyuu (AsaDai and Yamaguchi) rant

AKA OHH BOYYYY BUCKLE UP DDDDDDD:

001 -AsaDai

When I started shipping it if I did: Like how many episodes did it take for Asahi to appear? That’s when :D

My thoughts: HAPPY HAPPY FEELINGZ ALL AROUND T.T I ship this ship to the ends of the world and back and it’s both my second favorite pairing for Daichi and Asahi. Because my first favorite pairing for BOTH Daichi and Asahi is AsaDaiSuga and I would die for all of these boys.

What makes me happy about them: That they exist??? Okay, so basically I love how insanely and completely Daichi trusts Asahi and how much he relies on him. Like how there seems to be 0 doubts in his head about Asahi backing him up and holding his ground in his stead and of course we mostly see that during games, but since this is a sports anime games are pretty good parallels for their everyday relationship. Asahi is a safety net for Daichi and when at the beginning he was trying so hard to get him to come back, I believe that was as much for himself as it was for the team - like for Daichi to function as well as a captain as he does, he needs to know that Asahi is there having his back, mentally and sometimes physically. Re: when he had to leave bc of his injury. Daichi puts on the bravest and strongest and most driven front for his team but we know that sometimes hes afraid and has doubts and I believe Asahi is amongst the few that are aware of that and are able to give some strength back to him.

As for Asahi, well, it goes without saying that when you are constantly viewed as one thing while being totally different (re: big scary guy vs actual baby kitten), when you constantly doubt yourself and try your damned hardest to overcome those doubts and fears, having someone trusting you and treasuring you unconditionally can save your life. I believe that Daichi loving and cherishing Asahi (either as just a friend or a lover) is a constant source of confidence and willpower for him, especially since he clearly looks up to Daichi in a way. (As does everyone and rightfully so).

TL;DR: It makes me happier than anything how SUPPORTIVE they are for each other, how much they can mutually rely on each other and overall how everything in their relationship seems to be built on mutual and unquestioned trust and love and respect, which in turn makes them both stronger as individuals.

What makes me sad about them: I’ve seen in mentioned multiple times that Daichi goes to Tokyo and Asahi doesn’t?!?!? And I don’t want them to separate?!?! :(((((((( Also the lack of AsaDai random interaction content : DDD

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: THE FACT THAT THE TAG HAS ABOUT 50 FICS?!? Like honestly I’m not gonna get annoyed because characterisation is the freedom of the artist, but I personally don’t enjoy reading about Asahi as this fragile and shy and insecure quasi-princess character. Sure he is mentally fragile sometimes and he gets shy and insecure sometimes, but he is also a strong-minded person, an ace of all positions, and he fights to overcome his fear of challenge and failure so hard. Don’t erase that part of him. Similarly, I don’t really like overconfident and insensitive Daichi either.

Things I look for in fanfic: basically existence? Xd mutual support and love and lots of caring for each other and just silly boys in love :D but then again I look for that in all fics soooo yeah.

Who I’d be comfortable with them ending up with, if not each other: basically all 4 of the 3rd years (so them and Sugawara and Shimizu) I’d love and support and cherish if they ended up together in any pairing. Other than that I haven’t given it much thought yet I guess? I just want them to be happy T.T

My happily ever after for them: I want Daichi to eventually get a job where he can keep on being a leader/teacher, maybe even a coach later, and before that, play in a uni team for a while maybe too… but I guess I can’t see either of them as Big City Men running around with briefcases. Maybe join one of those neighborhood volleyball teams together for fun… I’d love for Asahi to have his own little something, like a flower shop or a little craft store something equally pretty and cheesy, and Daichi helps out when he’s not coaching/teaching and its the ultimate soothing bliss for him, just arranging bouquets with Asahi, not really talking just being together, enjoying the quiet and the flowers and the company… and living like that until they’re both 200….

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: generally Daichi is the big spoon because even though Asahi is bigger, Daichi is just one of those people BORN TO BE the big spoon. Perfect husband spoon material… but then there would of course be times when he’d just curl up and let Asahi envelope him in warmth and safety and peace.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity: lots of outdoor activities, like hiking and biking and camping? Things where you don’t have to talk a lot to enjoy it, but if you want to, you can have the deepest/ most open conversations without feeling embarrassed. They’d go on these 1 night camping trips, hike somewhere with their stuff on their backs, discover little hidden streams or views from mountaintop, collect wood, build a little fire in front of the tent, watch the stars, talk about memories and future plans, dreams and fears, without having to feel awkward about being honest and vulnerable.

002 - Yamaguchi Tadashi

How I feel about this character: I WILL PROTECT AND LOVE HIM UNTIL THE DAY I DIE AND THEN MY GHOST WILL FLOAT AROUND WHISPERING INTO PEOPLE’S EARS: LOVE YAMAGUCHI

All the people I ship romantically with this character: There isn’t actually that many… YamaYachi is super sweet and lovely, and TsukkiYama is also sweet in its own extremely codependent and childish way :)) I haven’t honestly seen many Yamaguchi ships but basically anyone would be luck af to have Yamaguchi so, yeah.

My non-romantic OTP about this character: I LOVE LOVE LOVE how Shimada teaches him and helps him and believes in him and cheers for him, I love their relationship so muchhhhhhhhhhhhh also I generally see him and Tsukki as a BROTP rather than a couple but yeah that’s a whole different story :))

My unpopular opinion about this character: He is one of the strongest willed characters imo, because he’s technically the least talented and he gets nervous and misses a lot at first but instead of just quitting he struggles to keep up with the team. I was like that once (except I was not simply the least talented I basically sucked xdd) and tho I loved volleyball, I just quit because I hated staying while knowing that I’m the least useful member of the team. Idk what counts as an unpopular opinion since I haven’t read that many posts about him, but it’s certainly a very important one for me.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: the whole stadium cheering and shouting his name as he gets 10 consecutive no-touch ace points in? :D Oikawa saying that he’s great at serving? Tsukki hugging him and telling him how important his friendship is to him and how much he cares about him? Like, i know i know that THEY BOTH KNOW IT and like tsukki doesn’t have to SAY it for Yamaguchi to know, but I still want him to xd oooops that’s not one thing xd

My OTP: uhhh idkkkk as i said i havent seen that many pairings but out of the ones i saw its the TsukkiYama BROTP. Like if i had to choose one relationship with him and someone else that i love more than the others.

My crossover ship:… SO MANY FANDOMS TO CHOOSE FROMMMMMM but just. Limiting it to the few animes I’ve been watching recently (Shingeki no Kyojin amd Free)… he reminds me of Marco, kinda, so maybe Jean/Yamaguchi… AND ALSO CONSIDER: SMALL FRECKLED ANGEL YAMAGUCHI AND GIANT SOFT ANGEL MAKOTO. ALL THE ANGELS ALL THE SOFT.

One headcanon fact: one stolen (from @topftopf ’s BokuAkaKuuroTsukki series, aka the If You Read One Haikyuu Fic Series Then Make It This One as i like to call it): Yamaguchi grows out his hair, gets some tattoos and a bike, and he’s basically The Dream Guy. Hottest, Sweetest, Nicest, COOLEST by all standards. Get yourself a Yamaguchi. And one original: sometimes when he just Cant Deal™ with Tsukki’s shit, he’d go to Yachi and BICH freely about how his best friend is insufferable because Yachi will always listen to him but would never say it back to anyone or hold it against Tsukki and Yamaguchi is always careful around others since everyone talks shit about Tsukki and he wants them all to see and love him as he does, rather than how Tsukki wants to seem. This later develops into free bitching sessions with the two of them where they can let out all their frustration about other people that they’d never say out loud to anyone else. (Like Yachi about her mom, or stupid first year boys that keep obnoxiously trying to flirt with her…)

#asks #haikyuu #im literally dying of haikyuu feelz as of late #save meeeeee #cinnamonsnow #asadai #yamaguchi #all of these boys are my children

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