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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

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The Wounded

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader [Dating], Bucky Barnes x Reader [Platonic] Warnings: mantions of kidnapping, slight depictions of PTSD, angst Summary: After you survive a kidnapping that ends up affecting you in ways you and Steve never anticipated, you turn to Bucky for comfort leaving Steve confused and insecure. A/N: alright this is an older one I had sitting on my computer i felt like uploading but very sorry for the lack of content! I am currently dealing with finals but this is my last year so fingers crossed i’ll have more time after this! Still, please enjoy this, I remember really enjoying writing it :)

Masterlist

You shot up in bed suddenly, praying your eyes would adjust to the pitch black darkness of your bedroom fast enough to ease your brain. As your heart raced and sides ached with bruises, you took in your surroundings finally.

You were in your bed, your boyfriend Steve sleeping peacefully next to you. You knew this in your brain but your heart didn’t. It still raced relentlessly, just a haunting reminder of your latest nightmare.

The nightmares always had the same theme. They always seemed to circle back to your troubling and scarring kidnapping you had suffered just a few weeks ago. It was a devastating ploy by some equally devastating men to get to your boyfriend. The abduction didn’t last very long — just about a week in some musty, dirty cell being kicked around — but the scars it left on your brain where so much deeper than you had ever realized until recently.

The physical abuse was bad but the bruises and cuts were healing just fine. It was the mental and emotional games they played that was going to take longer to ease. The words were haunting and they followed you in every crevasse of your brain, typically leaving you running on a couple of hours a sleep. It was a cruel routine: go to bed safe and sound, find peace for two hours, wake up in a cold sweat, watch mindless TV in the common area until breakfast.

Here we go, you thought as you made your way out of the bed. Steve was still undisturbed, in a peaceful dream sleep, typically unaware of your absence. The few times he had caught on you rushed him back to bed, claiming you just wanted a midnight snack. He never questioned it but his eyes always told you he wasn’t convinced. You ignored it — you just couldn’t tell him. The guilt he carried about your kidnapping was unbelievable. You worked so hard to convince him you were alright, it wasn’t ever his fault, and that the wounds were healing because you couldn’t bare to see those eyes in such a miserable state.

It really wasn’t a total lie — the wounds were swell and you wouldn’t dare to blame him for something not in his control — but then the nightmares started. The daunting voice began chiming in. The depression… the anxiety… the fear… it all came at once so unexpectedly.

You tugged on your fluffy robe along with your slippers and made your way to the kitchen. As you rounded the corner you were stunned to see the kitchen light already on. Peaking your head in, your eyes fell on Bucky who was situated at the kitchen island snacking on some chips.

You stared, unsure of whether you should head to the living room and venture into the kitchen. No one had ever been up with you before and if they did, they never made themselves known.

"I can feel you staring, Y/N."

Bucky’s rough voice brought you out of your ridiculous phase. You sighed and made your way to the fridge.

"What are you doing up?" You asked, grabbing a carton of vanilla ice cream along with a spoon and making your way to the island. You stood opposite of him, watching and waiting for a reply as he crunched on the chips.

"Isn’t this the time you always get up?"

His question stunned you. Holding his intense stare, you placed your spoon on the counter next to the ice cream. Suddenly, your stomach was in a knot. Maybe a part of you didn’t want anyone to know what was going on.

"I just wanted a snack," You gave your go-to spiel but the ex-assassin wasn’t buying one bit of it.

"Every night?" Bucky scoffed. "Probably should eat a bigger dinner, then."

You rolled your eyes as he gave you his know-it-all smirk. You loved Bucky really —totally loved his company and all that — he had been such a great friend to you and so inviting but no matter what, without a fail, he could always pick up on anything that was off. Steve, of course, could see right through you but he always gave you the benefit of the doubt. He was gentler with you, never wanting to pry or upset you, and you were so thankful for that. But Bucky didn’t give a shit — if something was wrong he was gonna find out one way or another.

"Why are you up?" You repeated your initial question, getting a bit fed up with this now. He stalled your question and reached for more chips. You sighed in annoyance and opened the ice cream carton, digging into the creamy deliciousness.

"Something’s up with you," Bucky finally answered. His voice was a bit softer and way less cocky. Hearing someone express they saw you weren’t okay nearly had you in tears. You shoveled more ice cream in your mouth, staring down at the granite counter.

You shook your head. "Just wanted a snack."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N." Bucky groaned. "Come on, don’t make this hard." You placed your spoon in the carton, pushing it to the side. You fiddled with your nails as thoughts and feelings swarmed in your brain. It couldn’t hurt for someone to know, right?

"Nightmares," You spoke softly, voice cracking ever so slightly. "Just some bad nightmares."

"The kidnapping," He whispered. You saw his fists clinch at the mention of it. Your kidnapping had shocked everyone. They all had their own way of handling it but usually it was just a lot of confusion. You weren’t some hero. You didn’t have magical power or a fancy training. You were just a nurse who bandaged up the heroes when they came back. Even with dating Steve, no one expected you to be a casualty.

"It’s really messing with my brain," The words were rough to get out but once they were out there, you felt a new freedom. A weight you never realized was so heavy was being lifted so carelessly with words.

Bucky just nodded and waited for you to continue.

From then on, your nightly routine was no longer a lonesome thing. Bucky began joining you every night with snacks and a therapy session. It felt easy to talk with him about it especially since he understood. He didn’t have to pretend to know how you felt — he had felt it all, too. He got what being captive was like, how the mental manipulation went, how strong the effects of it all could be… You for once didn’t feel crazy. But most importantly — someone knew. Like really knew. And you were immensely grateful.

It seemed to be helping as well. You knew when the thoughts got rough, you could just spew it all out. You could talk about what exactly had happened to you without fear of being looked at differently. The whole thing was like breathing fresh air. You could even sometimes fall back asleep on the couch which now put your sleeping time up to four glorious hours.

The nightly chats really put your daytime spirits back up. So much so, Steve was getting a little suspicious. While he was so relieved you seemed to be doing better, the steps you took to get there were still a mystery to him and you could tell he was curious. When you’d join him in your shared room at the end of the day, he’d ask more questions about what you had done through the day. It was almost like he wanted a play-by-play and you did your best to comply.

It wasn’t until a week or so later that he started catching on to you leaving in the middle of the night. Without knowing it, he had used all his might to stay up one night to see if something was going on. You didn’t appear to be doing anything but work during the day so something must’ve been happening in the night — and that’s when his mind wandered. The thoughts of what could be helping you started to get a little unpleasant.

It was a random Tuesday night and you were on the couch with Bucky eating some pretzels. He was sitting up right while you were laying on the couch, legs thrown over his lap. You were going on about how your nightmares had gotten weaker when unexpected foot steps halted your words.

"What’s this?" The unmistakably strong voice of your boyfriend boomed through the living room. You scrambled to sit up, throwing pretzels all over the coffee table. Both stunned and unsure, you and Bucky stared at Steve. His demeanor was hard, his face unamused, and his eye said he was ready for a fight.

"Steve, babe, what-," You fumbled for your words, trying your best to reason. He hadn’t caught you two doing anything but his energy was so startling it made you unexplainably scared.

"What? What am I doing up? What are you doing up?" He marched towards the couch. Hesitantly, you stood up to face him. Bucky stayed seated, looking at you both with a slight expression of annoyance. He knew how possessive his best friend could get but this felt excessive.

"Just wanted a snack-,"

"Don’t bullshit me," Steve growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. You jumped at the harshness. Sure, you guys had had disagreements before but this was entirely new.

"I… I’m not… Steve-,"

Steve took a deep breath.

"Y/N," His voice got deeper. It was slightly too calm compared to his attitude just seconds before. "Tell me why you’re up at night sneaking around with my best friend."

"Sneaking around?!" You gasped. "Steve, that is not-,"

"OH, IT’S NOT?" Steve’s voice boomed throughout the common area. Even a watching Bucky jumped at the noise.

You quickly backed away from him, completely scared beyond belief. His eyes were harsh, his entire demeanor fuming with anger. You had never seen anything like this from him and it started to bring up the memories you worked so hard to heal from.

"Steve, man, take it down a notch…" Bucky finally stood from the couch and placed his hands on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve flinched back, nearly ready to throw one at Bucky, but something in him clicked. He lowered his hand and took a few deep breaths. Coming to his senses, he looked at you and saw the absolute horror on your face. He had never seen you look at him like that and it broke him into a million pieces.

"I… just… what the hell is going on?" Steve meant for it to come out nicer, but the harshness was yet to leave him and his tone. You started rubbing your hands together, a nervous tick you’ve had forever. Bucky tried to get you to stop when he noticed your movements, but Steve’s cold glare wouldn’t let him anywhere near you.

"I can’t sleep anymore," you said, breaking the silence with a much more powerful voice than you intended. You didn’t know you had the strength. "Ever since… I can’t sleep. I keep having these nightmares and Bucky’s been helping."

Steve scoffed, "Helping?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Now you were getting weary of both super soldiers.

"We sit up talking," Bucky explained. "It helps her… well both of us, really, to talk, watch TV… anything."

"And you didn’t tell me this because…?" Steve asked, pointing his attention back on you. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went down your spine as his cold gaze. You sighed, realizing the gig was up.

"God, Steve, I didn’t wanna worry you!" You exclaimed. "The last thing you need is a girlfriend with PTSD. You go through enough shit and I just didn’t wanna pile it on."

The admission sat in the air heavily around you three. Bucky looked relieve you finally said something but Steve’s eyes just held so much confusion. Personally, you felt so much weight coming off you. You thought you’d never have to tell him, assumed everything would sort itself out, but no, you finally spoke up.

"Honey," Steve sighed with sudden tears forming in his eyes. "You didn’t… You shouldn’t have done that, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

You nodded, "Steve it was just so scary. I didn’t know what to do. Bucky was just there and he got it and would just sit up with me and-,"

"Alright, hon," Steve cut you off and made his way closer. Thankfully, you didn’t flinch away. "I understand and I’m glad you had someone, but I would’ve helped. I can help you, sweetheart."

"I’m sorry," You whispered as he pulled you into a hug. You threw your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest, letting the pent up tears flow. Steve rest his chin on your head, stroking your hair softly.

"I didn’t know you were hurting this much," he admitted.

"It’s been so fucking scary,"

Steve could almost feel his heart breaking at the sound of your voice alone. Your words just piled on so much.

"I should let you two…" Bucky began, essentially forgotten standing next to you two. You pulled away from Steve to look at him.

"Thank you, Buck," you said.

Steve nodded in agreement. "I’m sorry for the overreacting I just… I thought the worst, but really you probably saved my girl."

Bucky gave a small smile and patted Steve on the back. "I didn’t do anything. It’s her strength you gotta thank."

With that, he made his way to the elevator and back to his room, leaving you two still standing in an embrace in the common area. You stared up at Steve, watching his expression towards you change. What was once so scary and harsh was back to the softest man you’d ever met.

"We’ll make some calls in the morning but for now, would you come back to bed?" Steve asked. "I can’t imagine anymore nights without you."

You nodded, giving him a peck on the lips. He led you back to the shared bedroom and for once, you went to bed with a sense of hope.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #angst #steve rogers angst #mcu #mcu fic #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers #writing*#fluff

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wing-ed-thing · 4 years

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Obvious (Iruka x Teacher!Reader)

Word Count: 863

Warnings/Tags: Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: I think Daniel Dae Kim would make a really good Iruka tbh. Also, I tried soooo hard not to use “(Y/N)”, and I’ll tell ya, it was hard but I done didn’t do it.

Konohamaru had absolutely nothing to gain by trying to get his two teachers together. But Iruka never dated anyone as far as Konohamaru knew, you were single, and you both were teachers. So, kid logic, it all checked out. Setting the two of you up sounded like fun and that his classmates were as equally as enthralled as him. He didn’t know the best way to pull it off, but surely if he kept switching all of your things, you would have to talk to each other. And it worked.

A soft knock came at the classroom door and the attention of the class turned with the door handle. You poked your head in with a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry, Umino-sensei, I hope I’m not interrupting.” Iruka’s face lit up as soon as he heard your voice, something not missed by the Hokage’s grandson. Konohamaru buried his face into his scarf to mask his devious smile. Iruka shook his head.

“No, not at all. Sensei, please come in.” You approached his desk as he gave the class a busywork task to do while you spoke. Iruka’s students made no effort to listen to what they were told, instead choosing to hone in on your conversation.

“Your lesson plans ended up in my things again.” You whispered, handing him a small binder. Iruka gave a slight frown as he furrowed his brow as he accepted it. He flipped it open, thumbing through the pages.

“Thank you,” He said, cocking his head. “I’ve been looking for this.” He closed the book shut and turned to his sea of peering students. “Whoever keeps misplacing my things—” His eyes narrowed at Konohamaru. —“the joke is getting old.” Iruka’s nostrils flared as he prepared to give his trainee’s a lengthy, stern warning, but he stopped short as you let out a light giggle. A kind smile formed on your lips.

“Don’t be so hard on them, Iruka-sensei. I’m sure it was just a mix-up.” A tint of red washed over Iruka’s cheeks. He ran a hand through his hair to the base of his ponytail. “Benefit of the doubt as I always say.” The corners of his lips tugged upwards into a bashful smile.

“Yes, you’re probably right.”

Konohamaru turned to Moegi, gazing at her expectantly, hand up in the air. And reluctantly giving in, she gave him a high five. He got some good results today, but Konohamaru knew that he had to kick it up a notch. And so after school, when he thought everyone had vacated the Academy for the day, he snuck back into the room. With all the stealth that one eight-year-old could muster, he silently approached Iruka’s desk. Just as he pulled open the top drawer, Konohamaru heard a deep cough behind him. Before he knew it, he was being dragged by his ear. The classroom door slammed closed and Iruka stood in front of him, arms crossed.

“I knew it was you,” Iruka huffed. “What do you have to say for yourself?” His student blew out his cheeks, pouting. He mumbled something under his breath. Iruka tapped his foot impatiently against the door. “Please speak up, Konohamaru.” He didn’t skip a beat.

“I’m doing this for you, you know.” Iruka stood still, blinking, and Konohamaru mirrored his crossed arms. Konohamaru diverted his attention away from his teacher. “It’s not my fault that you haven’t asked Sensei on a date yet.”

“What?” That was the extent of what Iruka could get out, torn between laughing and walking away altogether. Konohamaru let out a gruff groan of frustration and threw his hands in the air.

“You’re so obvious, Iruka!” He gestured towards his teacher dramatically before his features fell ever so slightly. “We just wanted you to be happy…” Iruka quirked a brow.

“We?” Konohamaru looked up.

“Yeah, the whole class can see how happy you are whenever Sensei comes to return your stuff.” Iruka sighed. Konohamaru had good intentions, Iruka couldn’t get angry at that.

“I don’t want you to worry about those kinds of things, okay?” Konohamaru didn’t meet his eye. Iruka lowered himself and placed his hands on his student’s shoulders. He tilted his head. “Okay? No more stealing things.” Konohamaru met Iruka’s eye and reluctantly nodded. Iruka pursed his lips, his hands clasping in front of him. He let his head hang ever so slightly. “Sensei and I talk all the time.”

“Really?” Konohamaru asked, an excited glint in his eyes. Iruka nodded, a smile on across his mouth.

“Yep. We’re friends. Sensei and I are good friends so you don’t have to steal to get us to talk okay. C’mon—” Iruka gestured down the hall with a jerk of his head. —“Let’s go.” He led the two of them down the hall, the cool outside air hitting them as the door opened.

Iruka couldn’t help but reflect on Konohamaru’s words as the boy ran out into the courtyard. You’re so obvious, Iruka. And a realization hit him. His eyes widened and his hands clenched.

“Hey!” He yelled after Konohamaru. “Since when did you start calling me ‘Iruka’? That’s Umino-Sensei to you!” But Konohamaru was already gone.

Notes: Remember being in elementary school, having another teacher visit your classroom, and your teacher be like “Oh say hello to M(x). Teacher Name, class!”. I think it’s funny when teachers refer to each other as M(x). Lastname in order to set an example for students.

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#iruka x reader #iruka Umino x reader #iruka #iruka umino #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #naruto x reader #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto #x you #x reader #x y/n #reader insert #x reader insert

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aerynwrites · 4 years

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Mi Vida

Javier Peña x Reader

Author’s Note: What? a request? *GASP* who would have thought lol. I am ashamed of myself that it has taken me this long to get to these requests. I am so fucking sorry, it took this long! But this was hell fun to write and I almost forgot how much I LOVE soft!Javi, so I hope you all enjoy!

Request: I AM BEGGING FOR SOFT!JAVI where you like try to be all tough around him but in reality you’re so scared of what could happen to you and him and then one day he finally catches you crying and like—I—AH (Requested by @dindjarindiaries I am so fucking sorry it took so long.)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: anxiety, mentions of possible death, blood, gunshot wound, tiny bit of angst, but mostly just fluff and softness.

/////

You and Javier Peña had been together for a few months now. Something that most people, yourself included sometimes, considered a feat in and of itself. Javier was never the ‘settling-down’ type, so when he had asked you on an actual date several months ago, you had almost denied him – worried that you would just become another notch on his bedpost. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt, and it was the best decision you had made in a long time. You had never been happier, and it seemed, neither had Javier.

With both of you being DEA, you were there for each other when things got hard. You understood what it was like being in the field and seeing all of the death and destruction on a daily basis. This is what made your relationship work so well. Since you both work together, you know exactly what the other one has been through, you understand each other better than anyone could know. However, this was also a big downside to your relationship…at least to you it was.

You are a senior DEA agent – just like Javier. And while being a senior agent is a huge honor – you have the respect of those around you as well as much needed experiences in the field – it also comes with the more terrifying experiences too. You’ve seen the worst of the worst, the most evil people out there in your eyes. And you’ve seen what they do to people who they deem as a problem. You’ve seen the unspeakable things they’ve done to innocent people, and that is enough to make your heart race and your mind go to dark places. Which is exactly where you were right now as you sat on the edge of the bed in Javier’s apartment.

Today had been a rough day.

You had gotten a call about a possible Narco location, but when you got there, it had been an ambush. Several of Carillo’s men were killed - and while you remained unscathed, Javier had not. It was a small injury – just a bullet graze to his upper arm – but that’s all it had taken to break the thinly veiled tough exterior you had managed to uphold all these years. You had held it together through his treatment in the ambulance and the car ride home, but the minute you arrived home and Javier had disappeared through the bathroom door to clean up, you had broken down.

The tears ran hot down your cheeks as sobs wracked your body. You knew it was probably stupid to be crying over such a small thing, but it had all caught up to you in this moment. The constant worry for you and Javi’s safety, the anxiety of him not returning to you…it was all too much. And it all decided to spill over in this moment.

You were so caught up in your own emotions that you hadn’t even realized Javier had exited the bathroom, rushing over to you the moment he heard your cries. He crouched in front of you, one of his hands grasping yours lightly while the other cupped your cheek.

“Hey, hey, mi amor, what’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, concern lacing his words as he tried to understand what was going on.

You immediately started to relax at his touch, the warmth and familiarity of it calming you slightly. His thumb wiped gently at the tears tracks on your face as he looked at you, patiently awaiting an answer. Your cries had abated slightly, now replaced with small hiccups and your eyes trailed from his face downward until they stopped at the bandage wrapped around his upper arm – plain as day since he was not wearing a shirt to cover it. You felt more tears well up in your eyes as your free hand reached out to brush over the bandages lightly, and you felt your lower lip wobble as you tried to speak.

“I was so scared Javier,” you whispered, voice cracking slightly.

Javier’s eyes softened at your words, and he let out a small sigh before standing up and crawling into the bed, pulling you with him until you were both laying on your sides, facing one another. he slipped one arm under your head, hand carding through your hair, while the other fell across your waist, tracing small circles on your back.

“It’s just a scratch,” he assured quietly, “we’ve handled way worse before.”

You let out a shaky sigh and moved to be as close to him as possible, your hand resting on his chest and finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart. After a small moment of silence, you finally spoke.

“But what if it had been worse Javi?” you whimpered, “I don’t-“ the words died in your throat as a lump started to form and you had to take a deep breath in order to continue, “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you,” you finally admitted, “and every day we go out there. Every time there’s a fire fight or a bombing I can barely breath because I’m so scared your name is going to be among the casualties…or mine,” the words slip from your lips in a whisper and a few stray tears fall from your eyes at the thought, but Javier pulls away from you slightly, looking down at you with a loving gaze.

He removes his hand from your waist to wipe at the tears once more before resting it against your cheek and leaning down to press his lips against yours. You immediately melt into it, and despite this action slightly abating your fears, more tears fall from your eyes and meet your lips. You wrap your arms around him, afraid that if you don’t, he will somehow disappear. But he doesn’t. he only pulls away from your lips slowly, then presses a gently kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you and rolling onto his back with you on top of him. you relax against him, relishing in his warmth as he pulls the covers over both of you before letting his hands return to your back, rubbing up and down soothingly.

“you know I only have one goal everyday right? When we walk into the office each morning and do our jobs, I only have one goal each day. What is it?” Javier asks quietly.

You look up at him through your lashes, your cheek resting in his chest, “Catching Escobar?” you say, your answer coming out as more of a question than a statement.

Javier just smiles and shakes his head, one of his hands moving to brush a stray piece of hair from your face, “It’s to make sure I come back to you. Everyday, my goal is to stay alive so I can come back to you and be in your arms.” He admits lowly, fingers now brushing through your hair.

You feel your heart swell at his words, and once again a lump forms in your throat at the weight behind them. You let out a small sniffle and move up so you can press a kiss to his lips before returning to your position with your head over his heart, the strong and steady beating soothing you.

“I love you Javier,” you breathe, fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly on his bare skin.

Javier wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you tighter to him and presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Te quiero tanto, mi vida.” He whispers.

And even though you know each day is uncertain, and you don’t know if either of you will have a tomorrow, his words make you forget that thought – even if it’s just for a moment.

----

Mi Amor - My love

Te quiero tanto, mi vida - I love you so much, my life.

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Permanent Taglist: @lord-wolfgen @petalduck @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @stillreadingfantasy @pedrosdoll @simonsbluee @justlovetoreadfics @discogrrl @maryan028 @asaucecoveredsomething @hiscyarika @theforceofdisney @hail-doodles @murdermewithbooks @getinthepoolkeanu

Pedro Tag: @fleurdemiel145 @lustriix @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @longitud-de-onda @jellyfishpoptart @ah-callie @mutantsandproud @pascalisthepunkest @24kgolden @kaelyn-lobrutto24

#Javier pena x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal x reader #narcos x reader #pedro pascal masterlist #narcos #request

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popwasabi · 5 years

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Lockdown Lookback: Catching up on the past months’ Pop Culture

Aaaaannnd we’re back!

It’s amazing what a little pandemic can do to shake you out of your creative cobwebs but if we’re all going to die, I want to make sure all my pop cultural hot takes are up to date at least.

Many of us are already on lockdown and many major movies including “007,” “Black Widow” and ummm I guess “Mulan” are all getting pushed to the backburner as no one is leaving their God damn homes unless they’re told to!

(Didn’t realize the thing I wish I had more of in the apocalypse would be sweatpants...)

But there’s still plenty to talk about from the previous months and other hot topics I have been meaning to write about but just hadn’t found the time or energy for. Life has been hard I think for just about all of us these days thanks in no small part to this pandemic. For me personally, I’ve had two different vacations canceled because of the virus and currently working understaffed at my job which is considered essential. Not to mention my therapist is on call only at this time and both my martial arts schools have been suspended, so I can neither talk nor punch my feelings out of my system.

So, I might be just a LITTLE on edge at the moment.

(My internal monologue for most of these past few weeks, more broadly years...)

Anyways, I digress, you come here because you like to read my highly unprofessional takes on pop culture and genuinely to those who have cheered me on from the beginning thanks, you guys are my prime motivators. But anyways let’s talk about all the shit I was supposed to write about these last two and a half months.

“Birds of Prey” was a hot, but needed, mess

Earlier last month I got to see the sort of sequel to the much-maligned “Suicide Squad” in “Birds of Prey and the…waaaay too long of a title for me write here.” I had cautious optimism for it because it looked strange and off the beaten path of most comic book movies and seemed to promise at the very least a fun time at the theater but it’s still also a DCEU movie so the floor was pretty low on its possible quality as well.

In the end, the movie is kind of bit of everything; the best and worst parts of the DCEU.

In terms of the good, it’s definitely outside the box, a sort of fem Deadpool first person story as told frenetically by Harley herself. Margot Robbie is, of course, still quite great at this role and you can tell she’s having a blast as this character. The humor is mostly good and visually the bright colors and cinematography pops on each screen and on that front there isn’t much to complain about.

But as a DCEU movie it does suffer from some narrative imbalance partially due to it’s psycho storyteller but mostly, and more than likely, due to corporate editing that probably axed an entire dance number that I was honestly looking forward to from the trailers.

(Seriously, I actually wanted to see the full unedited version of whatever hell this ended up being.)

It’s definitely in the “could’ve been better” camp of comic book movies but you know what? I’m still glad it exists. You know why? Because comic book movies dominate our blockbuster culture right now and if the genre wants to survive, at least artistically, it needs some outside the box films like this. I HATED “Joker” but I appreciate that it opened the door for stranger, more unique takes on a genre that is getting increasingly more stale. This movie falls into that unique category too.

(Also, to all the faux-intellectuals and alt-right nerds making a culture war out of “Sonic” vs “Birds of Prey” *kindly* reevaluate your lives please...)

We’re at the point now where comic book movies should be getting weirder, not more formulaic, and that means swinging for the fences even if a couple don’t quite make it out of the ballpark. If it takes a few not so stellar takes on the genre for Hollywood to greenlight a truly fantastic one I’m all for it.

In any case “Birds of Prey” doesn’t quite end nor continue the DCEU’s recent hot streak but it is enjoyable enough to where I would be more than open to a sequel. It’s worth a watch.

The Mandalorian and The Witcher: Two shows about violent mercenaries and fatherhood

Both these shows are old news at this point, but I did want to talk a little about both for a bit if you would have me.

First, “The Mandalorian” which was Disney+’s flagship production to begin its streaming chapter late last year is definitely a more than welcome addition to the galaxy far, far away. It’s pretty easy to feel fairly jaded about Star Wars these days given how flat the new trilogy ended but for what it’s worth “The Mandalorian” was a good mix of nostalgia bait and something new and interesting for fans to chew on. Its production value is obviously top-notch, no doubt because of all the Disney money pumped into it, it’s well-acted and thrilling and fun from start to finish. It plays heavily on the genres that influenced the series, primarily westerns and old samurai flicks, and fans of those will certainly enjoy the homages to them all.

The series was something of a coming out party for Deborah Chow who directed two of the season 1’s best episodes. Her steady hand, eye for details and tributes to Asian cinema throughout really gave the series an extra kick at times and showed how Star Wars can evolve still. Chow is set to helm the upcoming “Kenobi” series and one can only hope that she *really* leans into the samurai genre for that show.

(Hopefully, there are some “Yojimbo” vibes in there somewhere...)

The Mandalorian’s best and worst parts though are its semi episodic nature making each episode easy to digest as a one-off but also lacking some narrative tension between each. It plays kind of like a Saturday Morning cartoon to both its benefit and detriment with bite-size easy to digest plots and dialogue for the viewers but not offering a ton of depth beyond that.

The Mandalorian himself is also kind of a Gary Stu. His armor is basically impenetrable and far and away the best killer onscreen typically, making more than a few action scenes lack real stakes and tension. Baby Yoda certainly helps at times to make him more vulnerable and puts him in precarious positions plenty of times but outside a few moments (mainly episode 2 and to a lesser extend the final episode) he’s just a little too overpowered to be a more interesting character.

But this show and frankly the Star Wars series as a whole is meant for kids, no matter what the neckbeards try to tell you (violence =/= adult), and that’s not necessarily a bad thing either. Plenty of kids productions can be both great and even sophisticated and while I wouldn’t say “The Mandalorian” is either of those it’s a good and fun kids show for the fans.

(And yes I’m aware that the books, some comics, and games have touched on more adult stuff, you weirdos. But how would you describe the overall tone and presumptive audience of the movies and TV series as a whole, guys??)

As far as “The Witcher” goes it also has a bit of an episodic style to it as well with an overarching, albeit, convoluted story that runs parallel to it. The first 3-4ish episodes can be classified as a quasi “Game of Thrones” clone leaning perhaps a little too heavily into the tropes of that series. Once the series finally starts leaning into its real identity, a dry-witted hack and slash fantasy, the series is much more consistent both tonally and narratively.

Henry Cavil is solid as Geralt of Rivia and the supporting cast of Joey Batey as Jaskier, Freya Allen as Ciri and even more so Anya Chalotra as Yennefer are all great in their respective roles delivering some great moments throughout the season.

(And lest you forget this earworm...)

“The Witcher’s” early season struggles keep it from being as tonally or narratively consistent as “The Mandalorian” but where the monster slayer beats the bounty hunter is that it has overall more compelling drama and has more to say, leaning much more heavily into the thematic greys of the plot. There are tons of problems with “The Witcher” on a story-telling level but you can definitely say it cares more about adding some depth in between the more pulpy aspects of the story which is something you can’t say as much for in “The Mandalorian.”

Of course, I’m partially overselling “The Witcher” a bit here, it’s not anywhere near “Game of Thrones” best (yet at least), and on the flipside one could argue that “The Mandalorian’s” more subtle sense of story-telling does its themes better. But when it comes down to these two shows you get somewhat similar story-telling ideas, mostly involving both characters and their smaller counterparts, in two very different genres with equally diverging conclusions to their respective seasons.

(🎵 Toss an “Oof” to your Witcher...🎵)

All in all, they’re both good and worth a watch and I think they deserve a chance to evolve and hopefully showcase more of what they have to offer moving forward.

“Parasite” wins Best Picture! Many people have some hot takes, including the president...

Last month one of my favorite films of 2019 “Parasite” won Best Picture at the Oscars. It’s a movie that is becoming increasingly relevant as elites and celebrities alike are getting front of the line testing despite being asymptomatic in the middle of pandemic and think they can assuage our concerns and dread by poorly singing “Imagine” together within the comfort of their McMansions.

It’s about as a good time as any to revisit this movie, I mean where else are you going to go during this timeline, and at a later date I’ll write something more extensive about it eventually (hopefully) but first here’s a helpful video on one particular thing that came out after director Bong Joon Ho took home the night’s top honors:

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“Cats” is still a fever dream of madness

Back in late December, I watched “Cats” for science, as I had AMC A-List and a friend crazy enough to join me. I figured it would be bonkers and unlike anything I had seen before in the worst way but even then, I don’t think I was truly prepared for what I ended up seeing that fateful night.

I remember quite vividly going to the bar inside the theater and ordering a stiff drink beforehand to numb the pain and the bartender asking “So what are y’all watching tonight?” and beginning to laugh manically like an insane asylum patient at the innocuousness of the question. Walking into the theater was like that feeling you get before getting on a particularly scary-looking rollercoaster at Six Flags but instead of the pre-ride jitters eventually subsiding to the eventual fun and joy of the ride, only a deep sense of existential dread built up and sustained itself through what felt like six hours of the most baffling thing put to screen in front of my eyes ever.

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(The music that played in my head as I exited the theater...)

Have any of you watched the Stanley Kubrick movie “Eyes Wide Shut” before? You know the scene when Tom Cruise is walking around in his mask observing the strange occult sex orgy going on around him at the mansion? That’s kind of what “Cats” felt like except way more terrifying, somehow MORE sexual, and definitely crazier.

(Is...this some type of...intepretative dance to summon an eldritch horror??)

There’s a voyeuristic terror that comes from sitting in that theater room as you watch bipedal humanoid looking felines dance to confusing songs about “Jelicle” cats (whatever the fuck that means) and all other manner of things that should NOT take human form throughout it’s near-endless runtime. A lot was made about Rebel Wilson and the disgusting roach people she consumes but NO ONE warned me about the frankly HORRIFYING mice children in the same scene!

(I am not perusing the internet to find that image again for y’all. I have enough nightmares each night...)

The saddest thing about the whole movie is everyone, save for Ian Mckellen who seemed to be acting as if a gun was pointing at him offscreen and Judi Dench who looked 100 percent like a geriatric in her digi fur, was giving the movie their fullest effort in what can only be described as a Titanic-sized level of hubris by all parties involved. This movie really needed a “Chaostician” involved in evaluating the production for studio heads and shareholders because there were definitely NOT enough people on this project wondering whether or not this film SHOULD exist...

(Dr. Ian Malcolm coming to Universal Pictures to access the film.)

What has “Cats” wrought upon this world? The universe has been clearly out of balance since this movie came out and while I’m not saying it’s director Tom Hooper’s fault, I’m not saying it isn’t either.

“Cats” is one of those things, much like The Matrix that cannot be simply described but must be seen to believe. It’s one of the worst things I have ever seen onscreen but with the right group of people and a few stiff drinks it’s certainly an experience you won’t forget. Consider it for your next Google Hangout during this apocalypse.

Anyways, that about wraps up my thoughts on the last few months. Going to try to be more consistent going forward especially given how much more time I have now to write, for better and worse. But more importantly, just want to say stay safe y’all. It’s going to be a process to get through this and while things are more likely to get worse before they get better there will be a day when this all ends and some normalcy may yet return to our life but in order for us to get there we need to remain vigilant.

So stay at home, wash your hands, and if you want to watch movies just order it online for now and we’ll just wait until aaaallll this blows over…hopefully.

Don’t panic...

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taki118 · 5 years

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Why down grading Demeter was a terrible decision for Cats 2019

ok soooooo apparently i’m not done ranting about this adaptation.

Anyway you might be wondering why I care so much about 1 character getting down graded from the plot to essentially be a cameo when she’s not one who has a song about them. (And it’s not cause Munkustrap and Demeter is clearly the superior ship) But the thing is I’d argue Demeter is like just a notch bellow Munkustrap on the importance scale as she assists in nearly every song, and sings two narration songs, she also has some importance in the backstory thats kind of an implication thing but not really like only in that they never flat out say it, everyone who’s seen the musical can say without a doubt that like Demeter was Macavity’s ex who left him and he’s kinda not over her (not in a loving way mind you but a nobody leaves me sort of way).

And here’s the weird thing though they basically gave Demeter’s stuff to two characters in the movie and there by lessened it.

Soooooo this is hard to explain but like Demeter was with Macavity for sometime it’s debated whether or not she was with him willingly but what’s shown in the musical is that for a time she was into it, eventually though she left and was either taken back or brought into the tribe. (Where she hooked up with best boy Munkustrap who cares about her so much in certain productions like the 1998 taped version and 2016 revival that he constantly checks in with her or just does cute shit in the background and in the 2016 version goes to protect her first and i’ll shut up) By the time the musical starts Demeter is now a protector of the tribe and is a bit paranoid about Macavity returning this is why she’s the one to constantly shout Macavity, but this proves a benefit as its her knowledge of him that leads to him being unmasked. Another thing to note about Demeter is she’s one of the few older cats who shows Grizabella sympathy it often looks like she wants to help but is afraid of being cast out herself if she does so. Basically Demeter in a not in your face way shows that one can be reclaimed or claimed by the tribe even after making bad decisions.

But like the movie thought hey lets not put in the subtle allegory to an abuse victim reclaiming her life and helping to take down her abuser. Nah lets instead take her out lessen Grizabella’s story of youthful pride leading to ruin by giving her the fall back that she was taken in by Macavity and left by him. Then for good measure lets take Demeter’s greatest supporter Bombalurina who was like the Poison Ivy to her Harley Quinn. (like ya’ll realize when she’s describing him in the song she’s taking digs at him right? She says he’s got a bulbous head, he’s filthy and doesnt take care of himself) and lets make her Macavity’s new henchgirl more than likely the position Demeter use to have in the musical version and kinda missing the point of the song.

And the thing is it would have been so easy to have her there in the movie like you just make her Munkustrap’s mate (as she ought to be) replacing i think it was Cassandra? Have her helping with songs and looking after Victoria, kept the Macvity song a duet just switch the singing order like Demeter knows its a trap immediately and tries to stop it from happening.

But no lets take Demeter out even though she could only help to add cohesion to the story. Let’s take out Grizabella’s own agency make her more or less just another victim of Macavity Let’s take Bombalurina’s fun flirty spirit and make it a BAD thing cause what? Being sexual and a good person as a woman isn’t possible, hahaha.

I just ugh this bugs me so much

#cats #cats 2019 #cats musical #cats demeter #demeter #rant

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crocifixio · 4 years

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Quasimodo

You know that cliché shot – badass, multimillion-dollar contract action film star slowly making an appearance by walking out of that rise on the road, blurred by the hot fumes of the pavement. His leather pistol dangling by his side, wide-brimmed hat tipping down low. It is a cliché as old as cinema, a cousin of The Explosion Walk, and it works all the time. Only for that day, it was a stocky young man in a waway hat who had figured in my vision.

Three months had passed since our Tirad Peak hike and the misadventures surrounding it were almost wiped out now from our memory. In the next 48 hours we would be overwriting whatever clean slate we had with something much worse. I had my reservations about dwelling on the subject again but this is an honest journal and thankfully we would have none of the same misfortune involving local guides on our subsequent hikes.

I was again with my two regular hiking buddies Dirty Harry and Liquidator in this dilapidated sorry excuse of a bus out from Dangwa on a hot Good Friday morning. Whatever calories I might have stocked up on hours ago from Good Taste had been consumed by intermittent bursts of adrenaline as I imagine hurtling myself out of the windshield while I rode shotgun with the daredevil Kankana-ey driver. Dirty Harry and Liquidator were far in the back buried in boxes of live poultry. I was lightheaded when we got off the bus at the Kibungan municipal gate.

And then this kid in the waway hat. We had to figure out for ourselves that he was the assigned guide for us as he approached in his filmic entrance. We had asked him, but he just gave a grin and we took that for a yes. For the entirety of the hike he would be giving that menacing grin with his tobacco spit-stained crooked teeth, not making eye contact as half of his face would be shadowed by the brim of his hat (I later saw his eyes were misaligned). He would just launch on a low, continuous muttering every time we would ask him things. At times, I would ask him random questions just to get him into that state and annoy my two companions. Liquidator thought he acted like Gollum and was convinced he would kill us in our sleep. Dirty Harry on the other hand thought Quasimodo was more apt as he was wearing green, had little of a neck and had pants cut off just after the knee. But he also thought we would be killed in our sleep. I am all for benefit of the doubt, even if a number of villagers we would pass by had to shout ‘Ingat kayo dyan sa isang yan!’. After all, it was a joke common among Filipinos who would see friends in the company of unfamiliar guests.

But Kibungan Circuit was such a beautiful hike that there was no effort freeing ourselves from all of our doubts about him. Never mind that he insisted we settle for Version 1 – we told him we were physically ready for Version 2 and that we were willing and able to add hours or days just to tab more miles and notch Mt Oten and Mt Tagpew, but his incessant mumbling told us he was not fit for it. So on we proceeded to what we would downgrade as just a relaxed hike, or ‘chill climb’ in local hiking parlance.

We set off in a steady pace, and my two companions were all awe every step of the way. We passed by the cemetery, and the local who was tending the graves had to give out another ominous remark – apparently another warning to watch out for our guide. I was glad that my companions were too absorbed at the scenery to mull over the same worries again. The cemetery, which was sitting on a plateau, pans in a cinematographic way as you walk along the road while the nearby peaks at the background hung like painted cloth in this huge theater stage. I swear I could hear the The Ecstasy of Gold! Rest in peace, Ennio..

Packs down for early lunch in the first village we stopped by. You would think that we would get a lovely scenic spot for lunch but the guide pointed at a small corner of a cemented wall with about six inches of shade from the overhang of the roof, and then just left. Dirty Harry was furious after fully grasping the idea that the guide had meant for us to take our lunch on that spot. We moved to a more comfortable location, which was a charming Cordillera hut and shared our meal and coffee with the owner who was in his twilight years but still spoke fluent English from the Commonwealth era. The guide came back two hours later, still dazed from his siesta. He had that troubled look that meant we were becoming too much of a burden already and he would show it once more come morning when he came back for us, two hours late again, at the Buga Campsite. I was glad we did not have to share tent space with him for the evening as he crashed in a nearby hut that was also the last water source. I had my whole A-type tent for myself, with a belly full of chicharon and Hainanese rice. Liquidator was up all night in the other tent, beside himself and his iPad all the time from the abundance of cellular signal all throughout the trail.

Speaking of strong cellular data signal in the vicinity, I remember running into the Bakun-Kibungan Traverse Team on our way down from Mt Tagpaya on the second day. I had initially considered joining them but could not yet find it in me to return to Bakun and wanted this hike to be all Kibungan. They were in high spirits, and were on their way to finishing their route opposite of us. About an hour after we had parted ways, we then ran into the tail of their group who did not appear to be as ecstatic and were in no rush to catch up. They told us they were sticking to the original itinerary after being voted off by the majority to cut their hike short by one day, suspecting everybody had spent all their power banks due to the abundant cell signal all throughout and were in a hurry to recharge batteries at the municipal hall. Five years ago, I would not have thought how the dynamics of a hiking team could be altered by this aspect of technology.

Meanwhile, Quasimodo would always advance ahead of us so he could stop by and smoke a cigarette while waiting for us to catch up. I would chase him and ask if he had another stick (to test him, because his cigarette pack was showing by the back of his pants, as was his buttcrack- insert coin here), not doubting he would say he had none left. We would repeat this process for a total of four times before we reached Tanap, where Quasimodo’s friend of a van driver was already waiting for us ‘for a reasonable fee’. I had my ViewRanger app open and could point to where we could cut the hike back to the municipal hall from the terraces, but Quamisodo insists he had contacted a van already. Reluctantly, I agreed because half of me would also like to see the exit from Lungsad Falls. I forgot how much we paid for it, but I asked the van driver in private when I had the chance if he was on his way back to Baguio as well and struck a deal. I knew Quasimado was up to something again, knowing that we had already missed the last trip to the city.

Back at the población, the washrooms were all occupied by the Bakun-Kibungan Team so I decided to gather everyone instead for a little snack by the adjacent grocery store after paying the guide fee. As we walked to the store, Quasimodo made the offer for us to get the same van back to the city for two thousand pesos. I did not reply. Moments later while having our snack and sodas, he would make the offer again, so I spoke directly to the van driver to clear it up as we already made a deal for six hundred pesos only. Quasimodo went back to the van driver in a mix of Kankana-ey and Iloko, and then back to us practically begging to just pay 1,500 because it was already late. I told him and the driver that if the terms were to change, we were better off spending the night at the municipal hall. The van driver told Quasimodo (from the little Iloko that I could decipher) to just shut the hell up as ‘kwarta na magiging bato pa’. Feeling defeated, Quasimodo let out a wail and threw his arms in the air like some vessel dispossessed of demons. I honestly thought he had given up right there, when, upon seeing Liquidator paying for the snacks, he asked the storekeeper for a fresh pack of Marlboro and sniggered at us, motioning to put it in our tab. Liquidator snatched the pack from Quasimodo and said something along the lines of an expletive and kanina ka pa ha!

All pics in this post by Dirty Harry, Canon EOS 60D

Quasimodo, in the green shirt, fortunately with his buttcrack covered at this moment

Mt Tagpaya

My Canon G12′s sd card conked out early into the hike and was dead weight since

A lot of segments were like snippets of Bakun, this one reminded me of Mt Kabunian

This was to be the last time I would be wearing this brand, in the following months I would be signing up as Ambassador for two other local hiking apparel companies.

#philippine mountains #pinoymountaineer #hiking #backpacking #philippines #cordillera #kibungan #kibungancircuit

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chubbyooo · 4 years

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Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 80 - Monsters of All Shapes and Sizes

man this is a long boi hope you enjoy :D

Kyradia and the gang find shelter and secrets are revealed

Malora’s voice echoed as she shrieked out in anger throwing her lightsaber “damn it how could we let her escape, what even was that!!!!” Kyradia sighed once again Zash had escaped but t this time it was different she’d caused her to run because she was scared, that made her vunerable.

Ashara tried to calm down Malora “well there’s no use getting angry and throwing your lightsaber away Malora we don’t have time to waste finding it” Malora’s stone face turned to her as she held out her hand

Seconds later the saber was back in her had “don’t be ridiculous this thing is magnetically linked to my hand so I don’t lose it” Kyradia wanted one of those, she frowned as she looked at Malora she looked weirdly jittery as she continued her echoed voice seemed choppy “What are we going to do the bitch destroyed the speeders” Kyradia wasn’t exactly sure but they should definitely find shelter

She checked her datapad “kriff no signal, Andronikos should notice our absence if we’re gone for a day though. We need to find shelter and just wait this out” she knew Andronikos was already paranoid about them so it shouldn’t be too long

Malora nodded “fine I’ll find us an adequate shelter” she picked out a scanner and began walking towards a nearby outcropping of rock

Ashara frowned “how many gadgets does she have on her?” Kyradia chuckled she was certainly more prepared than either of them

Malora responded tersely “I have a number of ‘gadgets’ for this exact scenario so I can’t be bested by a coward, I’d advise that in future you come more prepared” Ashara glaced to Kyradia giving a ‘sheesh’ face

Malora strode ahead leaving the two of them to talk, Ashara was quick to ask “hey are you doing ok?” Kyradia didn’t know quite how to answer that, everything was so full on at the moment that she may just be compartmentalising her searing rage

Kyradia answered “I think I’m ok, Zash ran because we injured her that makes her vunerable and I count that at least as a little win” Ashara’s eyes were wide clearly surprised by Kyradia’s calmness

Ashara folded her arms “so you’re not mad that she got away?” Kyradia laughed she wouldn’t quite put it like that

She responded “oh no I’m angry but I’m not giving it the time of day for now” Ashara nodded a unsurprised look crossing her face “by the way Ashara I noticed something about the Mirialian, she seems to genuinely believe we’re the bad guys” Ashara nodded clearly having also picked up on this

Ashara stroked her chin “yeah I have a feeling Zash has been lying to her and if so I worry for her safety” Kyradia nodded it may be a weakness Zash hadn’t accounted for

Kyradia nodded “Zash relies on her though maybe if we could use her against Zash then she could be exploited” Ashara’s face turned to a frown giving Kyradia a silent glare “oh and save her from Zash as well” Ashara sighed clearly unimpressed with Kyradia’s idea

Ashara continued “I doubt we’d have to manipulate anyone and I would not allow that, we just need to so her the truth” Kyradia nodded falling quiet it really was easy to fall back into her old ways

Kyradia looked away “I uh sorry that kinda just slipped out I didn’t mean to uh” Ashara cut her off before she could flounder anymore

Ashara shook her head “it’s ok Ky Zash is bound to bring back a lot of old habits” Kyradia nodded looking away awkwardly

They walked towards the ridge for a while longer before they found a suitable cave, Malora spoke “precipitation levels around this cave suggest a perfect source for a small supply of water if I set up some collection points and it will also house a suitable temperature for temporary residence” Kyradia blinked not quite understanding any of that

Ashara clarified “she means it’s suitable as shelter in non nerd speak” Malora shot daggers at Ashara as she was setting up what looked like little basins

Malora tutted “it’s not a crime to be well prepared Jedi, it’s why I have been able to survive so long” Kyradia noticed it again as she jittered a bit and her voice became choppy. She would ask about it but she wasn’t exactly one to talk about having weird sith quirks. Malora seemed to notice it though and got up “please excuse me I need to modify one of my gadgets” Kyradia frowned but really wasn’t in the mood for questions today and just sat down eating some of the jerky Malora had provided

She smiled “you know she’s got a point being prepared has its benefits” Ashara nodded but her eyes were still on Malora as she went out of sight a distinct frown on her face “Hey Ashara you’re doing it again” she joked

Ashara turned to her confused “w-what do you mean” Kyradia chuckled she knew that face she was so clueless

Kyradia grinned “you’re trying nose into a siths business, I know that face” Ashara frowned looking back to where Malora had left

She shook her head “no I’m not I uh I’m just worried about her intentions” Kyradia gave a sarcastic nod “and I’m not nosy I’m just careful” Kyradia couldn’t help but stifle a laugh

She raised her eyebrow “Ashara you know more about me than anyone in the galaxy even you have to admit you’re a little nosy” Ashara looked away embarrassed, it felt good to be right.

Ashara conceded “Ok maybe I am nosy but you gotta admit there’s something weird going on with her, have you seen the chip on her neck” Kyradia had seen it when they met on Ossus

She nodded “well yeah but siths all have something weird about them I’m not exactly one to talk, she’s resourceful and seems genuine that’s enough for me” Ashara had never been very trusting and she doubted the fact Malora was acting suspicious helped

Ashara looked at her confused “I just… what if it’s something bad or that’s hurting her she said it was helping her cope but I just I like to know a siths intentions, I’m sure you understand why” Kyradia shuddered she really had damaged Ashara hadn’t she

She sighed “yeah I suppose so you’re right to be careful most of us are awful but Malora never stuck out as one, even when on the dark council” Kyradia chuckled “though I could take the ego down a notch” Ashara smiled a little. Kyradia looked away “if you’re so worried about her why don’t you just ask her?” Ashara looked away and sighed

She responded “she won’t listen to me she thinks I’m just some Jedi who only wants turn her to the light” Kyradia could understand that worry but Ashara was definitely not like that

Kyradia put a hand on her shoulder “then show her you’re not cause no offence you’re not the shining example of a jedi what with the crowd you hang around with” she chuckled “seem like a bad influence if you ask me” Ashara gave a reluctant smile

Ashara got up “ok I’ll try I’m gonna be upfront and honest” Kyradia nodded she had no idea how this was gonna go but she hoped it would make the bickering stop she had a feeling there was something else there

Kyradia joked “you sound like you’re about to ask someone to a dance” Ashara shot her a glare her cheeks turning a darker orange

She folded her arms “shut up” she had a little smile as she ‘stormed’ away

Kyradia sat there silently for a couple of minutes wondering how it was going and trying to keep a sense of calm, maybe she should try that meditating thing again. She put down the food she’d been snacking on and tried to clear her mind, however as she did she felt a force pull her back to a familiar place

She opened her eyes and was back in the void space with an enraged Zash “I bet you think you’re pretty clever” she was nursing her shoulder a clear burn mark where Kyradia’s saber had gone through “but if you’re going to avoid me I’ll just have to make the connection myself” Kyradia was again surprisingly calm seeing Zash so rattled was kinda vindicating

Kyradia folded her arms “what do you want Zash I thought you were too busy running away” Zash snarled at her the true form bringing back many bad memories for Kyradia.

Zash grabbed her arm “you only stand a chance because of this power you hold I’m well on my way to finding it but I need to be one step ahead and you’re going to help me” Kyradia felt Zash try and access her memory but she was ready grabbing onto Zash’s head

Kyradia sneered “I think you’ve over-extended yourself here” she felt Zash’s memories becoming clear “remember ‘Master’ this is a two way street” with that she felt them travel back before suddenly stopping falling into what seemed like an alley.

Kyradia could hear explosions and battle all around her, the architecture reminded her of the republic Zash got up looking around in surprise “NO how did you? Here?” Kyradia smiled at the clearly surprised Zash

She smiled “struck a nerve have I?” Zash went to lunge at Kyradia but she moved effortlessly out the way “you’re not the only one who can use this bond Zash, now let’s see about you” Kyradia had to admit she was curious

Zash’s face was covered with rage “you think this is going to affect me, I’m not ashamed or hiding anything like you” Kyradia watched as a family rushed into the alley hiding behind the dumpster. Zash continued “this is Corellia during the Great Galactic War and that is me” she pointed to a little girl with the family

Kyradia folded her arms “I bet you were secretly wrinkled as a baby too, you certainly weren’t a cute one” Zash ignored the comment as they watched the family trying to keep the young Zash quiet

Zash scoffed “they were useless, it’s no wonder we ended up in a warzone” Kyradia frowned at the contempt she clearly felt towards them, as she spoke Kyradia noticed a platoon of soldiers pass by the alleyway. Zash laughed “here he comes ‘my saviour’” Kyradia frowned as the platoon stopped and the looming form of Darth Malgus came into view but a much younger version who lacked the breathing mask he would become so known for.

Kyradia looked to Zash “So what he killed your parents and you resent him come on Zash you’re better than petty revenge” she paused “well then again I guess you aren't” Zash turned to Kyradia raising her eyebrow

Zash laughed “don’t be so sure you know me apprentice” she turned to Malgus “I believe he’s back right? He really is the definition of a cockroach no one could kill him not even his greatest ally” she chuckled “but that is the way of the sith” Malgus strode up to the family and called them out

He looked at them folded arms “I sense someone among you, they could be valuable but only if they were strong enough” Zash seemed to be trying to suppress a grin

The parents began to deny the fact “no there’s no one special here we’re not anything special just factory-” Malgus cut them off as he looked closer at the child

He bent down “why are they trying to hide you child” the little Zash looked away not making eye contact with Malgus, “you know what I think, I think they’re trying to hide your potential I think they’re scared of you” the little Zash nodded. Malgus smiled lifting up a piece of rubble with his hand crushing it “but to reach your potential I find the weak must be snuffed out, to be honest they should be scared of you” the little Zash smiled “now can you prove yourself to me” she nodded turning to the parents

Kyradia’s eyes widened looking at Zash “y-you killed your parents” Zash’s face was transfixed on what was happening

Zash cackled “no Kyradia I slaughtered them” Kyradia watched as they began to gasp for air as they were lifted high off the ground and soon were being slammed against the wall “he was right they were holding me back, but that was the only thing he was right about” Kyradia felt a little sick as the parents fell to the ground dead

Malgus ruffled the kids hair “very good I think you’re going to fit in well with my associate” the vision faded leaving them in the blank space

Zash smiled “I don’t believe that had the desired effect Kyradia” she didn’t even seemed phased by it she almost seemed energised by it

Kyradia shivered “you really are a monster aren’t you, I don’t think you need the sisters gift” Zash only smiled deviously

Zash tutted “I’m not a monster I’m a pragmatist nothing will stand in my way and if something only enhances my best traits I don’t see a downside do you?” Kyradia had never thought in her wildest dreams Zash was this rotten she had to be stopped “you know you would’ve liked him too but hey what do I know I’m just a monster” Kyradia suddenly jolted awake leaving her back in the cave.

She breathed heavily not quite sure what she just saw and who were they talking about?...

Meanwhile Ashara made her way to see what Malora was doing, she snuck up so as to not disturb her and found her fiddling with the chips trying to pry it off.

She seemed like she was having a lot of trouble with it and after five minutes Ashara decided to speak up “um Malora do you uh need some help” she turned around shocked and quickly the surprise turned to anger

Malora sneered “no Jedi go away! I’m fine” Ashara folded her arms raising her eyebrow

She responded sarcastically “really because you’ve been trying to fix that thing since we got here, I know it got broken in the fight you can at least let me help get it off” Malora looked away still fuming

She shook her head “this is something I have to do myself it’s not that simple” her anger seemed different it was more like defensive anger than offensive

Ashara wasn’t giving up “I promise I’m not gonna judge you or try and turn you I’m not actually a proper Jedi I mean I have more sith teachings than Jedi you” Malora cut her off

She shook her head “It’s not that Ashara I don’t think people should see me like this” Ashara frowned

Ashara walked up to her “hey I mean I promise I won’t judge you I’ve seen some pretty messy things but I don’t think it’s good to hide things” Malora didn’t make eye contact still clearly angry at her

Malora gritted her teeth “I’d rather that no one see me like that but” her voice echo seemed to shift and change “the lightning short circuited it, it can’t contain everything” Ashara was confused by what she meant

She sat down next to her “well then we need to fix it right?” Malora looked away nodding

Malora sighed “but I don’t want… Why am I telling you these things Jedi? what are you trying to do!” Ashara nodded understandingly

Ashara shrugged “uh nothing really I came to try and clear up what you wanted from us but now you seem in pain I kinda wanna help with that”

Malora frowned at her “why? You don’t benefit from that” Ashara’s eyes widened

Ashara smiled warmly “I’m uh not trying to gain anything Malora but I see a person in pain and I can’t really leave them it’s kinda annoying at times Kyradia could tell you all about it” Malora looked at her stil jittery

She laughed “you have a compulsive need to help people? That must be awful” Ashara couldn’t help but laugh

She nodded “yeah it’s pretty annoying but really I just want to help” Malora nodded fiddling with the screwdriver she’d been using

Malora frowned “I am being genuine I don’t want anything but my plant back after everything fell apart it was a sign I could still perform experiments and maybe fix this” Malora frowned looking at Ashara “why am I telling you all this I never tell people this stuff” Ashara stroked her chin thinking

Ashara responded “well I doubt you’ve been around many people that don’t want to stab you in the back” Malora slowly nodded agreeing with the idea

Malora mumbled “I still don’t trust you Jedi, no one is this nice just for the sake of it” Ashara didn’t blame her really

Ashara nodded “I don’t really trust you either but at least that’s one thing we can agree on” Malora stifled a laugh “hey was that a laugh?” Malora’s eyes widened

She shook her head “no! This chip is just causing me problems” Ashara looked at it, it seemed to be sparking every few seconds

Ashara picked up a screwdriver “well I can help you remove it if you want” Malora’s anger returned

She shook her head “no I don’t want anyone to see that it’s worse” Ashara frowned it couldn’t be that bad

Ashara tried to persuade her “come on I promise I won’t judge you” Malora seemed torn as she jittered

Malora sighed “I uh I don’t want people to see me as I monster ok I’m a scientist and this mistake it doesn’t define me” Ashara started to understand

Ashara folded her arms “I won’t see you any differently one of the greatest scientists in the galaxy is a giant slug Malora, and the most pretty person in world can be rotten to the core just look at Zash”

Malora conceded “Fine but don’t say I didn’t warn you” she turned around and let Ashara get the chip off her neck with a quick pry

But as she did she heard an echoed shriek from Malora as her hair suddenly shot out of her head draping over the majority of her body, Ashara saw as her skin hardened and her armour seemingly jutted out as if something had grown underneath. Her boots seemed strained as Ashara heard the echoed voice turn to a much more raspy pained voice as she fell to the floor.

She collapsed on the ground hardly visible under all the hair she spoke up a pained raspy voice exiting her mouth “the chip suppresses the extreme growth, I uh did an experiment that went wrong and it’s what caused the growth of the spines, the hair and the skin hardening” She brushed the red and black hair out of her eyes and looked at Ashara, she could now see Malora’s skin was solid and cracked the spines much more prominent on her face “still think I’m not a monster?”

Ashara was baffled unsure of what to do “I uh I was not expecting that” Malora sighed picking up the chip and beginning to work on fixing it

Malora mumbled “I knew it this was a mistake, don’t tell anyone Jedi or I will make sure you never speak another word” Ashara was still stunned but she had to make it right

Ashara shook her head “no no I don’t think you’re a monster I mean it I just I thought you’d turned yourself into a rakghoul or something” Malora shook her head as she tried to work on the chip

Malora responded “no of course not only a madman would do that, I tried to use an ancient sith ritual to give me more power but when I tried to apply it scientifically the ritual cursed me for daring to think different” she sighed “I got the power but it turned me into this, you haven’t even seen the worst of the spines under the armour” Ashara sighed she had no idea Malora was going through this

Ashara comforted her “You’re not a monster Malora you clearly just weren’t like the other sith and believe me I can respect different sith” Malora nodded as she continued

She seemed much sadder without the chip on “I designed this thing almost immediately to combat it but it hurts and the more time that passes the more I grow and the more strained the chip is” she seemed to be getting frustrated “this hair is the worst part I can hardly see a kriffing thing!!!” Ashara thought about that she might have a solution

Ashara sat down next to her “well we could always braid it” Malora looked at her frowning her stoney brow cracking a little as she did

Malora joked “what are we apprentices talking about boys” Ashara chuckled

She shook her head “well no but surely it’d take strain off the chip right” Malora considered the idea for a second

Malora responded “well yes but for that I’d need someone else to do it” Ashara raised her eyebrow at her starting to brain the back “hey what are you doing!!!” Ashara had to admit maybe Malora wasn’t so bad once you got passed her stoney exterior

Ashara ignored the protests “I’m helping you Malora I can braid it for you and then you won’t be as strained controlling the spines” Malora didn’t seem happy about it but seemed relieved to be able to work on her chip

Malora conceded “fine but if you make me look stupid I will make sure you don’t live to see morning” Ashara nodded as she began an eleborate design that would hopefully make her look like less of a wookie

Ashara questioned her “so have you found any other way to combat it minus this chip?” she didn’t know if she was getting too personal

Malora seemed engrossed in her work “yes that’s what the plant was about I’ve been investigating similar compounds that may hold a way to stop the growth” Ashara understood now why she was so intent on helping “it seems impossible to reverse the damage beyond what the chip managed to compress but I may be able to stop it getting worse” Ashara nodded this was gonna take forever

Ashara thought she’d reassure Malora “to be honest Malora you don’t look that bad like the skin is obviously worrying and the voice isn’t ideal but you still look just fine” Malora didn’t seem to be too fazed by the comment

She tutted “forgive me if I’m not flattered by you saying I look fine minus my entire body” Ashara knew Malora knew that wasn’t what she meant “ok I’ve fixed the chip how are you doing?” Ashara had ages left to go

Ashara stammered “we’re gonna be here’s for a few hours Malora this is kinda complex and I’m not so good at it” Malora sighed as she put the chip back on, this metamorphosis was much less extreme as her voice and body returned to normal

The echoed voice rang out “fine but if this is the case we’re going to do it silently I’ve done enough sharing today with you Jedi” Ashara nodded that was fair enough...

Hours later Kyradia was sitting by the fire still a little shaken up as Ashara returned with Malora who now had a long braid of hair running down her back where the heck had that come from “so we’re not gonna talk about how you two had a brading party and didn’t invite me?” Ashara chuckled sitting down next to Kyradia

Ashara smiled “I just helped Malora with her chip don’t worry you didn’t miss much” Kyradia frowned she’d know Malora was hiding something about herself but she’d assumed it wasn’t hair of all things

Kyradia joked “it seemed like I missed a gals sleepover you owe me one both of you” Malora’s glare was very clear as Kyradia continued to joke “unless it was a different kind of sleepover” both their eyes widened

Ashara punched her in the arm “shut up you’re the one who told me to go and help her you jerk” Kyradia chuckled watching Ashara go deep orange was always fun

Kyradia sighed getting serious “well while you were gone Zash tried to mess with me again” Ashara was ready to freak out but Kyradia stopped her “don’t worry I actually messed with her, she’s losing her temper and that’s good news for us” Ashara seemed to consider that

Ashara folded her arms “well still we should be careful are you ok” Kyradia didn’t quite know how to answer

She nodded “mostly I was just reaffirmed at how evil Zash is” she hated she’d ever been close to that

Suddenly Kyradia’s comm sprung to life “Kyradia come in are you there” Andronikos’ voice rang through she could always rely on Andy to be prompt

Kyradia smiled “ah my saviour get to these coordinates and quick if we’re here any longer I feel like there may be a confession” Ashara’s face turned to embarrassed anger as Kyradia chuckled. “I’m just kidding hun we need to get back to Odessen pronto Zash is vulnerable right now we gotta strike the iron while it’s hot”...

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

Text

It’s Complicated Chapter 7: Playing By The Rules

Source: @all-things-raul-esparza

Chapters 1-5 Chapter 6 Story on AO3

Rafael Barba made the best huevos rancheros in the world. The solar system, even. He was fully aware of that and unafraid to acknowledge it to anyone who would listen. Frankie mocked his conceit about it, but her biting sarcasm was belied by the fact that she was on her third helping.

Beneath the playful ribbing, Rafael’s eyes kept sliding to the stack of luggage next to his door. She had packed her things as he’d made breakfast, despite his repeated assurances that he was just as happy for her to stay. He didn’t say he wanted her to stay, preferred her to stay, although they both knew that was what he’d meant.

But Frankie needed to go home to her apartment. Rafe’s plane had left at an ungodly hour that morning, and Amanda had taken him to Kennedy, so she didn’t need to rush in order to see her brother off, but she needed as much normalcy as she could find. Alan was dead, and that was a good thing, however it had happened, and she could now resume her normal life without fear. But it wasn’t that easy and, as a psychiatrist, she knew that.

And then there was Barba. Frankie needed a lot of things right now, and space was at the top of the list. She was in love with Barba. She’d told him that. Twice. And she knew it was true. But she also knew that she was a mess. Having just come through a traumatic experience that had threatened every aspect of her life, and been welcomed into the arms of a man who was everything she had ever wanted, she knew as a psychiatrist that what she felt could very easily have been deep gratitude and a need for security being mistaken for love. She needed to do the adult thing and reclaim her life. When she had her feet back under her, solid and balanced, that would be the time to see how things stood with Barba.

The other benefit of that strategy was that it would give Barba space and time, too. Frankie had fallen for him completely. And he was being as supportive as she could ever hope for at this moment. But that didn’t mean he felt anything for her. It could easily just mean he was a good man who liked women. She remembered what Amanda had said. He dated, but he didn’t get involved. If she wanted him to feel what she felt – and holy shit did she want that - she needed to give him time to get there.

“I ordered a lot of groceries when I knew you were coming here, but maybe I should have ordered more.”

“I do not apologize for my appetite. Besides, I haven’t really eaten in days.”

“I can make more toast.”

“No, thank you. More coffee would be good, though.”

Rafael stood touching her as much as possible as he filled her mug with his excellent coffee. When he was done pouring, he kissed her cheek before stepping away to replace the pot in the machine.

“Francisca…”

“You can call me Frankie, you know. You’ve seen me naked.”

“Your name is beautiful. I’m not about to desecrate it with that preposterous nickname.”

As she looked at him over the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes sparkled with the smile he couldn’t see. It actually gave her a little thrill every time he said her name. Not only did he pronounce it beautifully, but the slight roll on the “r” made her think about his tongue. Every time. She even liked it when he called her “fresa”, although she would take that secret to her grave.

“When are you planning to return to work?” He asked, returning to the subject he’d been about to raise.

“As soon as possible. Tomorrow. I want my life back.”

“I can understand that. We’ll be glad to have you back. This whole thing… I don’t care what you had to do, I’m just glad it’s over.”

“What does that mean, ‘what I had to do’?”

He blinked. Why had he said that to her? It didn’t matter. That was the decision he’d made; he would never let it matter.

“I don’t mean anything. Just that I’m glad it’s over.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Barba. What did you mean by that?”

“I misspoke, that’s all. Let it go.”

Frankie set down her coffee cup on his kitchen table. “Barba, this is important. You’re… We’re… If you have questions, or misgivings, you need to ask. Or maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

Frankie ran a hand through her hair, looking around the room as if for help. “Look, I mean… We started out badly, and then things got intense fast, and… I know you see a lot of women, and why wouldn’t you, you’re…”

“Rico?” His mocking expression was a little forced.

“And if that’s what this is… was… then fine. But I feel, um… Well, that’s just it. I feel. For you. And I don’t need you to return that, I’m a grown-up, but if you wanted us to see each other, then you should know that. And I would need to know that you didn’t think I’m a murderer or… whatever it was you were just suggesting.”

Rafael didn’t respond for a moment. Which of those things was he supposed to deal with first? He turned and refilled his own coffee cup to give himself some time to gather his thoughts. “You really know how to pack a lot into a few nearly incoherent sentences.”

She stood and began to clear the dishes from the table. “You don’t have to respond. I need to get going, anyway. Sorry if I dumped a lot on you. I think too much about things. Occupational hazard.”

“Stop it. Don’t do that.” He turned to her, leaning against his counter. “I assume you were speaking your mind. Now let me speak mine.”

She turned from the sink and unconsciously mirrored his position, leaning against the counter a few feet from him.

“You said I date a lot of women. I don’t know what ‘a lot’ means, but I don’t suppose it matters. That’s apparently something someone thought you should know, and there’s not much I can say about it. It is what it is. But I really don’t like you making yourself a notch on my bedpost. That’s not what happened.”

“I apologize.”

“So do I, if that’s how I made you feel.”

“It isn’t. Of course it isn’t.”

“Then there’s this whole idea that I think you killed Canady. I don’t know how many ways to tell you that is not what I think.”

“But you think I did something to get the charges dropped.”

“I think…” He frowned. “We’re being honest with each other here. I don’t know what I think. It happened pretty fast, Francisca. Out of nowhere, there’s this ‘anonymous tip’ about a guy who wouldn’t give us the time of day before, and suddenly he’s spinning the exact same story you are…”

“Spinning? Story?”

“Here we go…”

“Words are critically important, Barba. You say a lot simply with your word choices.”

“Don’t try this at home, folks, she is a psychiatrist…” He muttered unhappily into his mug.

“You say you don’t think I’m a murderer. But I’m ‘spinning a story’ about what really happened, and apparently I somehow got to Jefferson from Riker’s so he would ‘spin’ the same ‘story’.”

“Francisca, I don’t care. That’s my point. You can parse my language any way you want, but you can’t tell me what I believe. I know you didn’t kill Canady. And I don’t give a flying fuck why some tweaker backed you up when there was no evidence we could use to help you…”

“FUCK! You think I did it!”

“For the ten billionth time, I do not think you did it.”

“You think I got to Jefferson.”

“I think… something happened. And Francisca, I do.not.care.”

“I care! Don’t you get that? I care! He told the truth! What he said, that’s exactly what happened. And if you don’t believe that, if you think he ‘spun a story’ to help me, then you think I’m no better than he is.”

“I really need you to stop telling me what I think.”

They stood, side by side leaning against Barba’s kitchen counter, heads turned so that they were scowling at one another.

“And I need to live with myself. I did not do what you think I did. Whatever that is.” She kept a tight rein on herself as she spoke quietly and pushed up from the counter. “I’m just gonna hail a cab outside.”

“Francisca, don’t leave like this. You’ve been through enough.”

She didn’t respond as she pulled on a short, fitted leather jacket over her soft grey tank top. When she’d collected her luggage, she turned to him as she stood just inside the open door.

“Thanks, Barba. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, more than I can say.”

“I’m not a monster.”

“Neither am I.”

“I know that. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“And that’s the problem. I’m one of the good guys, Barba. I can’t feel the way I feel about you and have you doubt that. Even if you don’t care.”

“What does that even mean?!” He shouted.

“It means I hear you. You know I didn’t kill Alan but you think I did something to get the charges dropped, and you don’t care about that because all’s well that ends well.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“For you, that doesn’t make me a monster. For me, it does.”

“You’re young, Francisca.”

“OK, that’s my cue. When your argument starts being my age, we’ve said everything there is to say.”

For the rest of the afternoon, both Barba and Frankie muttered to themselves all the things they wished they’d said.

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

“Amanda, stop! I cannot hear that stuff.”

“I wasn’t telling you sex stuff! I couldn’t, could I, when I’ve been back from Austin for a month? It’s just that Rafe’s amazing, and we had the best time together, and why didn’t you tell me he was such a studmuffin?”

“Ugh. Stop.”

“Well, he likes you.”

“I like him, too. We’re close. Just… tell someone else. Tell Carisi.”

“Carisi doesn’t want to hear about how hot your brother is.”

“Carisi is right.”

“OK, well, Barba’s here, so you get a reprieve for now. But seriously, Frankie, he is just…”

“Briefing time.”

Around the table, the team provided the information they had about their latest case, making sure everyone had all the data they would need during the questioning to come. Frankie’s role would be a passive one; she didn’t need to take part in the interview unless something unexpected happened. What they needed was her read on the suspect.

It was awkward standing next to Barba in his sublime suit, even though the past two months had been surprisingly normal. Rafael and Frankie had even found their way into several arguments. It was awkward because he’d hung his jacket over the back of his chair at the conference table and rolled up his sleeves. His hands and forearms were beautiful and kept drawing Frankie’s attention. Not only that, he kept making astute observations and asking piercing questions that were helping Frankie to zero in on this suspect’s psyche. They were a good team.

During the past months, blessedly full of routine and ordinariness, Frankie had recovered her sense of herself. It had been healing to be in her own apartment, waking up and going to work in her own office, in charge and control of her life. She didn’t see any reason to replace her burned-out car; she liked the freedom of not having to deal with it. Her colleagues at the FBI and in SVU had been wonderfully supportive. She hadn’t had the opportunity to see Porter since she’d been released from prison, which was a little odd given what they’d been through with Canady, but he’d called. Olivia assured her she’d see him soon.

The problem was that, the more she recovered and settled permanently into her New York life, the more head space she had for Barba. Her feelings for him were not lessening with time. Worse, they had both been terribly adult about the whole thing, which told her that she was going to need to get over it. She was the only one who had been foolish enough to fall in love in such an irrationally short time. She didn’t blame herself – trauma could do that to a person, she’d seen it a million times on the job. She just needed to shake it off. But it made her very sad, and the more she grew into her role at SVU, the worse it got. Barba was so very attractive, so brilliant, so damn great at his job, she would really have liked to build something with him. It was not going to happen. He was a serial dater, and she’d just been the latest woman on his agenda. He’d made her feel attractive and special, and had been exactly what she’d needed when she needed him. But that was apparently just the reason he was so attractive to so many women. He didn’t feel what she did.

“How old is this guy?” She asked Barba as they stood, a discreet distance apart, watching the interrogation.

“Sixty-eight.”

“Yeah. That fits.”

“What are you thinking?”

“He’s not faking this.”

“You’re saying the entire building and everything in it really has been replaced by exact duplicates?”

Rafael’s heart skipped a beat when she gave him the familiar scornful side-eye he sometimes said things specifically to elicit. Like now.

“I’m saying that idea is a real symptom of a real problem. It’s called ‘reduplicative amnesia’ and there’s an easy way to find out.” She knocked quietly on the door and walked into the box.

“Mr. Wilson, I’m Dr. Rojas. I apologize for the interruption, but I wonder if I might ask a couple of questions. It will only take a moment.”

Rafael watched as she asked a number of questions about where the suspect believed himself to be, and was surprised when he informed her that this building was in Detroit. It was an exact replica of an actual police station in New York, but this wasn’t the original. It was a fake copy, designed to trick him. He could see “Aha!” written all over her.

Barba appreciated the chance to simply watch her for a while. He was fascinated by the way she made her simple shirtdress seem so elegant, and the way the different sections of her braid shone with slightly varied colors in the overhead lights. He found her dazzling. And watching her use her talent and insight was fascinating no matter how many times he saw it. He even enjoyed the hell out of their verbal sparring. But he was at an absolute loss as to what to do with his feelings for her, and it was starting to be a problem.

Rafael didn’t understand what had happened. He’d thought that Frankie had asked him to be honest about what he thought of the information Juwon Jefferson had given them. He had been, but apparently that wasn’t what she really wanted. What she wanted Barba to do was tell her that he believed everything Juwon Jefferson had said. She wanted him to lie.

Rafael might have been right about her in the first place. Francisca Rojas might be a woman who required the people in her life to believe she was perfect, or at least to tell her that she was. He couldn’t do that. He’d told her what he believed. He’d even told her that he didn’t care if she or someone else had done something that might not be entirely admirable, since it had kept her from going to prison for a crime she didn’t commit. That was the best he could do. But, apparently, that wasn’t good enough. And, worse, what passed for “love” in her mind was far short of what he was looking for. She’d said she loved him the night she came home from Riker’s, and although she hadn’t repeated it the next morning, she had at least confirmed that she had feelings for him. Yet since the moment he’d blundered into suggesting that someone might have influenced Juwon Jefferson to give a statement corroborating hers, it was as though she’d turned it off. Rafael needed a woman whose love was indestructible. Francisca Rojas’s was apparently about as durable as smoke.

“He needs a CT, and probably an MRI, as well,” Frankie was saying to Olivia, who had been in the interrogation but was now leaving with her and Fin, apparently having abandoned it. “There are several things that can cause this: tumors, dementia, brain injury, other psychiatric disorders... He needs a workup. Because we need to know his mental state before we can go one step further.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” Barba cried, stopping them as they passed him on their way to Olivia’s office. “What’s going on?”

“Wilson may not be competent to stand trial,” Frankie said.

“Bullshit. So he thinks he’s in Detroit. He still knows rape is wrong, and he still tried to avoid being arrested. Voila! Competent.”

“Oh, brother. Get over yourself, Barba. Nobody’s that good. Any expert psychiatrist as sane as Wilson is could make hay out of this. We need a workup.”

“Not today, we don’t. I’m charging him. If it gets to the point where there’s a need for a workup-“

“Ni siquiera te importa si él es [1]–“

“Esto no se trata de [2]-“

“Ding! Ding!” Olivia called. “Fighters to your corners. There’s no one in your room right now. Let me know who wins.”

Rafael and Frankie expressed their displeasure, but both trudged into the least-used interrogation room at SVU, which had begun to be affectionately known as “their room”, because it had become routine for them to have heated disagreements that apparently could only be solved through half an hour of high-volume Spanish discourse.

“Explain to me why you don’t want to know the truth here?”

“Explain to me why I need to explain anything to you?”

“I’m not here to be decorative, Barba. This guy’s got a pathology going on, and it could mean he’s not legally responsible for what he did. How is it that doesn’t matter to you?”

“Because even he thinks he’s legally responsible. He ran away, remember?”

“Even you don’t believe what you’re saying.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaand, we’re back to you telling me what I believe.”

Frankie was taken aback for a second. Was he still talking about the case? “I don’t think you really want to just stick your head in the sand on this. Do you?”

“You call it sticking my head in the sand. I call it looking at the world the way it really is. You oughtta try it sometime. It’s very refreshing.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He was talking about them. She was sure of it now.

Rafael sighed. “Nothing. It means… Francisca, not everything is black and white. This job, you gotta get a little more comfortable with gray.”

“Well, thank you for the career advice, but in this particular situation, there’s a fairly simple way to determine whether this man has organic brain damage that might-“

“So what if he does? He still raped a woman and beat her bloody. He still deserves the punishment for that. I really don’t give fuck one if ‘the tumor made him do it’. He’s still guilty, and he should still pay the price.”

“Even if that means breaking a whole shitload of rules.”

“Sometimes, to make things come out right, you have to break the rules. You can do that and still be one of the good guys. And that, mi fresa, is a lesson you have yet to learn.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

“Then stop acting like one. The world is an imperfect place. The sooner you get comfortable with that, the better off we’ll all be. I’m instructing Liv to charge him.” Rafael turned his back on Frankie and strode from the room. Although he’d won this argument, he’d lost what mattered.

Olivia Benson constantly accused Barba of having too much respect for the rules, of being too bound by them. In that moment, he realized that he had lost Francisca, a woman he could have loved, because she didn’t think he respected rules enough. It was the ugliest kind of irony. And it was enough. Time for Barba to stop living like a monk waiting for a woman who was never coming back.

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

One of Frankie’s favorite things to do had become Friday night drinks with Sonny, Amanda, and Fin. They were so much fun, had so many great stories, and she really enjoyed the chemistry between them. On rare occasions, they were joined by Olivia and Porter, but when the two of them had a night off together, they were much more likely to want to spend it alone together, or just the two of them with Noah. Tonight was an “alone together” night while Noah stayed with a friend, which received its fair share of jokes in questionable taste around the table at Folini’s.

Amanda and Sonny were now trying to get Fin to reveal details about the date he had planned for the next night. Fin was enjoying their attempts, but was giving nothing away. Apparently, Amanda and Sonny shared Frankie’s opinion that it was kind of cute how excited he was about the date, because they would not let it go. They were well into their second drink before the subject finally changed.

“I don’t know why you won’t tell us about her,” Amanda said to Fin. “We tell you everything.”

“Did it ever occur to you that might be why I don’t tell you anything? You overshare. Both of you.”

Sonny’s offended look was hilarious. “I do not overshare,” he insisted.

“You so overshare,” Amanda laughed.

“Oh, Partner, you do not get to go there with me. I should not know how many condoms you went through when you visited Frankie’s brother in Austin.”

“Ewwwww! Stop right there! I do not want to be in therapy for the rest of my life,” Frankie shouted.

“Hey, look, we were celebrating! He’d just got the splint off his hand so we were finally able to-“

“Wait, what? What splint?”

“Hmmmm?” Amanda asked, with a false confusion Frankie saw through instantly.

“What happened to Rafe’s hand?”

Amanda looked around the table, each of the other faces as blank as she was trying to make hers.

“Oh, you must have heard about it. He got… hurt on the ranch.”

“How? What happened?”

“Oh, I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t remember the details. I just know he was doing something with a steer, and his fingers got caught in a rope somehow.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“They probably thought they’d be accused of oversharing!” Amanda laughed and began to tease Sonny about his own lack of discretion.

Something about the exchange bothered Frankie. Amanda was clearly lying, and Amanda had done enough undercover work to be a very good actress when called upon. But that was when she was prepared. She had clearly said something she shouldn’t have. There was something about Rafe’s hand injury Amanda, or Rafe, didn’t want Frankie to know. But that made no sense. What could be secret about a hand injury?

She was temporarily distracted from her thoughts when something across the street caught her eye; a familiar profile in a well-made suit walking in front of a Chinese restaurant the team never went to because it was far too expensive. Rafael was holding the door open for a striking blonde woman in a pantsuit Frankie had been drooling over the previous week at Barney’s. As she walked past him into the restaurant, the woman gave Rafael an unmistakable pat on the butt, which made him laugh in a way that made it clear the touch was quite welcome.

[1] You don’t even care if he’s-

[2] This is not about -

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #fin tutuola #sonny carisi #amanda rollins #olivia benson #law & order SVU Agent Dean Porter

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deviationdivine · 6 years

Text

Caustic Salvation (RK900!Prompt Request! w/Connor)

TLDR: Never made to love, he simply destroys to accomplish his mission...

Word Count: 3,381

TW: Heavy Angst, Pining, Character Death, Allusions to Smut

A/N: Follower/Reader Appreciation Drabble | Prompt: “Did you really think I loved you?” - @your-taxidermy request! This turned into some fierce angst I couldn’t let go and a bit of a triangle. Thanks for participating sweetie! Hope you like! If there’s errors I’ll fix them but I need to post this. I’m actually proud of this one.

“I want to take you somewhere. Private and reserved for no one but us.”

Affection.

How you long to hear it pass his cold lips. Molding as a notch in a slot connecting to seal what once burns aflame. Even chilly his kiss retains warmth spreading a righteous inferno.

If ice can conduct heat then his eyes are a source of comfort. Impenetrable to everyone else around him but hauntingly open to you there is shock in his amiable introduction. It is there.

Underneath all his stoicism, serious facade beats a heart of a man. To you he has a heart, a tin man who captures yours from the beginning. A man not an android because he is much more.

You tell him this. He politely if curtly declines small talk. That is how it starts.

It builds until there is nothing left to hold back. As much as you were close to Connor friendship became the pinnacle between. Nines, however, he opens floodgates and swamps the tender emotion hiding inside.

Why does a light gather towards darkness? How can something soft coexist with an indurate stone?

The anchor steadies you. There is serenity in stability. Somehow, you did not think to find such and most of all not with him. However, it happens. Whether it is realized or not, slowly but surely Nines creeps into your lonely life.

“Are you a quiet storm brewing in the substructure of circuits and wires or a gentle breeze fluttering around a crescendo of my heart?”

“I will be whatever you want me to be.”

Promises sweet they are a line of life. How delicate in need this fairy tale blooms but all at once it becomes so clear. As a sunny morn bathing the world in light and vanquishing the dark. Yet, still an edge tingles upon mechanical digits twisting your dainty strings.

Are you merely brittle, shaving off piece by piece carved by your lover’s command? Or simply lost amid constant craving by heart’s demand?

Your heart sings for those nights stowed away from rest of the world. They are silent. Only sound between two pairs of ears, one far more advanced than the other but equally perked together.

His kiss is molten. Shivering tempestuous, cradling you for the first time. It is your first moment of intimacy.

Quietly fuming down in the evidence room, attempting to get some extra files looked at and isolation stabbed at you. It was colder in a way. Without anyone to offer company, no husky voice of Connor and crooked goofy smiles to placate this overlong work week.

You assumed you were alone. Then…then you were not.

Nines scared you to death. Quickly recovering it was then the building attraction reacted. Pulled together you were two magnets in the night, metallic energy, sweeping you into strong arms but never crushing.

Instead this kiss crushed you in many ways. It crushed your dream of Connor that will never be. It was never his fault. If you had to be his friend the rest of your life that was enough for you.

RK900 blazed in to sweep you off your feet. Seemingly he had done that, unknowingly you had succumbed to the most terrible plot of all.

“He is not what he appears, Y/N. Believe me.”

“No. Connor, please! Just stop. Stop…”

What is wrong with Connor? Why is he acting like this? Now of all the times he could’ve showed some type of interest, he does it after finding out you and Nines are dating.

It hurts. To believe the one boy who never in a million years would do anything to make you unhappy and this happens. Jealousy is not real. He’s only doing this because he’s not the only android detective now.

That is what you believe. Nines makes sure you do.

“Do not allow the opinions of others to taint what we have, Y/N.” The RK900 spins words of comfort. Craving such affection, he readily offers because it is the greatest benefit for his objective.

“But Nines he doesn’t mean anything.”

Standing up for Connor causes a curious reaction in the superior android. A first blinding sign of software instability…

“Nines?” Quietly gaining his attention, brushing fingers down his chest, the soft sweater rests firmly beneath your touch. He stills with a stroke of palm and tugs you close.

Devouring your mouth, slipping smooth tongue through the warm cavern between parted lips claims you out of spite. As a machine pretending he does not require validity.

However, there is an urge to lift your body away and ravish every inch. Witnessing Connor’s reaction would please him to no end.

Machines do not feel pleasure. It does not stop his need to taunt the RK800. The idea will bring him great satisfaction. Little does this impeccably advanced model realize in this moment you already begin the spread into his system.

“What are you doing?”

“Ending this charade.”

Sweetness turns bitter, poisoning both mind and body. This is where your heart dies. Withered away a tainted apple eaten down to its core and burrowing out the other side by a ferocious worm.

Everything is blood, tears and anguish. Bleakest night in a thousand nights as darkness casts over Detroit. Nines is no longer stark white and majestic. He is pitch black and the soul reaver.

“Connor was right,” you whisper regretful. Pain consumes more than is bearable because what once gave so much takes everything away in a snap.

RK900 does not flinch. Ultimately he discovers no amount of remorse in these actions. This was his plan all along. There is no turning back.

Strewn upon empty warehouse floor, tears cascade in a glistening symphony of despair. Shed for your precious Connor. Shed for the RK800 whose seeming uninterest pushed you into the arms of a white demon, thirium staining jacket, the essence of his target. Murdered in the most horrible place he could have been.

Defunct Cyberlife Tower makes for an ironic location. He led Connor here. The deviant took the bait.

Nothing may be here any longer but that does not mean Cyberlife is gone. They are still operating undercover. He is their agent of stealth moving through shadow, blending with humans as a deviant android. Nothing at all is deviant in him. Even if you tried to cause glitches in his software he is too strong to be fooled.

“Nines! I know you wouldn’t do this!”

Begging is a pitiful display he ignores. Saccharine protests echo in a hollow tin. No longer full of thousands, androids awaiting release of merchandise, released instead by RK800-51.

Designated Connor model #313-248-317 came under swift destruction when RK900-87 struck out in his completion. Mission successful flickered in his syntax until a glaring shift took over. Another influx of software instability shudders but not in guilt over accomplishing assassination of Cyberlife’s original prototype.

Your face blinds following the splatter of thirium. Lodging a bullet in the brain of android you truly love. He knows this. He understands deciphering interactions at the DPD, watching careful for a slip to slither in and compromise.

It is easy. While naivety shrouds the clarity of the RK800’s return in affection for you, RK900 coils into favor. Using the inane lack of confidence in yourself to benefit him, Nines begins a careful tug. Slipping in concern about state of being following late nights at work; Connor would do this. The newer model would watch a private talk between you two, smiles and laughs.

An opening came when Connor is stuck out late with Hank Anderson. Specifically assigned cases to the department’s best in android crime affairs they are out more often. Nines slithers into your orbit, piece by piece planting doubts to the closeness you share with the other android.

After all, Connor does not love you that way. The RK900 hints as much. He purposely inflates your misleading thoughts on the matter. That is how he snares. It is how he begins to get close to that one thing that will give him a clear victory.

Here in the now the handgun aims directly at your head. Ice narrows straight down the barrel as you continue to grovel for him.

“Th-there’s something wrong.” Suggesting quickly it’s the only explanation to this. Maybe there is a virus in his system. It might have altered his perception and changed him in some horrible way.

Is that what Connor meant? No. No, he-he meant something else didn’t he?

Please. Please, don’t destroy this. This is everything. It was everything. You gave all knowing each outcome may be riddled in hardships. A human-android relationship is difficult in hindsight even whence this all blew over. You thought this before him with Connor. That was only a pipe dream. A beautiful boy like him would never love you but tonight –

It would have worked; no longer running in fear but Nines was not there during.

The RK900 came after. He is still shunned by those who accepted Connor. Is this why? How can it be an answer when he threatens you? When he-he did this to Connor!

Nines loves you. This is what he spoke softly in nights of passion.

“Can you love, Nines?”

“I can love you.”

“Nines, please,” a gasp shatters composure as everything snaps.

A bundle of energy expels between two bodies. You scratch nails into his shoulder blades marking synthetic skin for only a short time. The trophies of love will fade but they will never fade from you.

The android groans barely audible below your ear. Hips lie snugly between your thighs pushed to the hilt amid your warmth.

Stirring a deep response out of his metal frame, Nines traces fingers along the length of your body. Sweaty beneath him as a pause in the strenuous evening satiates even a race of hearts.

He feels more against his chest pressing atop yours. A human thrum flutters not quite in sync with his regulator but touching in harmony. Only a sheet of metal covered in liquid, pale skin separates the most machine parts of him from your delicate humanity. Many things are feeble in his eyes. That is how they are made but this-this surges within at an alarming rate.

As much he will like to stop it is too far along. He is too far into this ruse. The more it sticks to synthetic skin, RK900 loses another edge. Dulling blades and softening him is not part of the plan.

Only the mission matters. He takes you to infiltrate personal space. Staying with you even though he is not required to fall into comfort; pillow talk, as it is called, loosens those lips in detail.

Kissing them now seals another step. Seduction enraptures intricately around your heart. Easily giving over to him because of the love you honestly crave, thought lost in the footsteps of Connor and Nines takes advantage. Nines embraces you sweetly to fill a falsity.

He is sweet only in protocol. Programming himself, pulling upgrades into the equation, drawing him ever closer into the fold of the DPD.

You grant him this proximity. You place the bull’s eye onto his target without knowing.

As you return to slumber this first eve of lovemaking, android lying beside, threading an arm to keep you close for an image desired, RK900 stares blankly into the void. The machinery in his head hypothesizes, constructs steps and analyzes every outcome to fulfilling the mission.

It is then he closes eyes. LED blinks amber before steadying but it is not stasis he falls back to.

“RK900. Tell me of your status.”

“Things are going remarkably well, Amanda. It is only a matter of time.”

Time does not exist in the zen garden. Unchanged since Connor’s disconnect, blooming anew with a more powerful source. Connection to their highest of upgrades the RK900 breathes this fresh landscape grown over last tendrils of ice from whence RK800 escaped.

He offers shade to Amanda. Hoisting umbrella above to blot out speckles of rain, he moves steadfast beside the petite master program, listening intently as a machine who should obey.

“What about the human?” She asks, intent solely held with the dark opaque of her scrutinizing gaze. “This relationship. Do you feel it is a necessary step in order to complete your mission?”

The android shifts stopping upon the arch curve of bridge. Rain begins pouring heavier in time with his hesitation.

“It is necessary,” he decides. “I will use this to advance the current stage of my infiltration. The RK800 will be destroyed. As you order, Amanda.”

“Why did Cyberlife really send you? When the revolution is won?”

“Careful who you question, Connor.”

Careful eludes his inferior. Nines’ warning seems futile. In the fight it begins equal both RK800 and RK900 locked to the death. It becomes clear even for this android that fakes deviancy, pulls tender threads from your human vessel only to use to get closer. You and the RK800 are close but not in a lover capacity. That is why the newer model inches his way into your pathetic heart.

It is far too simple. You make his mission easier. After all it is you who ultimately offers inside information on Connor’s schedule. Living a fabricated life in viral disease; he takes every bit from you.

You are also the reason Lt. Anderson lies in a puddle of his own blood. Another human obstacle who saw fit to suspect RK900 of nefarious means early on his arrival. It did not take long for him to convince Connor. Then he attempted to warn you but of course denial is what you love. As he represents that and more but no machine can love.

No machine will truly feel. He fakes this but a small spark of pleasure seeps in. Physically from those times playing the perfect lover but also mentally.

Shoving it in the face of the RK800 placates him. It stirs dominance, smug self worth. He enjoys the obvious jealousy that rages behind the deviant android’s eyes.

Perhaps if your pitiful self esteem did not keep you from discovering the obvious love this defective android held for you. Then you may be spared. Only to accomplish to his mission strictly set by his creators. Masters of the artificial intelligence, branding him the most acclaimed and he will never fail.

He did not fail. A tough battle leads to one calculated aim.

Connor fights for you, to protect you from what he knows is to come but his emotion derails him. The original android sent by Cyberlife missteps because of his love, his fear for you.

That is what killed him.

“I’m so sorry, Connor! I-I love you. I loved you so much.”

“We both know what you really loved. You loved me. A ruthless machine.”

Everything burns in your vision. Breath stagnant, chest pounding and thirium staining fingers. Where you cradled Connor’s head once discovering his body sprawled upon floor. Shining, echoing in fast paced steps, dropping to knees frantic and searching for a sign.

Only glassy chocolate bore into the void. A gaping hole trickles eternal blue where his deviant life snuffed from one direct shot.

Even now fingers latch onto Connor’s jacket. Pulling at him in desperation knowing why he tried to warn you. He did love you. Why couldn’t you see? If you did – things would be so different. Turning back the shades of time is a fantasy because nothing will erase what has come to pass. Nothing will bring this sweet boy back. Connor died a true death. His deviant self is gone and frankly you find yourself gone with him.

Ra9 save his soul. Please, please, please don’t let him fade away. His soul was beautiful. Please!

“Time for tears are over, Y/N.” Nines interrupts your quiet mourning, devastation forcing a tremor in your frame. “Did you really think I loved you? It is time I finish. I am after all the RK900. Faster, stronger, more efficient. I am the android sent by Cyberlife.”

Cyberlife!

You spit on them. Monsters that hide somewhere unknown but this horrible place is a reminder. Connor was here once. He came to free his people. Now he lies dead! Dead in their domain where they bore him out some nightmare laboratory!

Yet, his face is still serene. He can no longer see or smile but nothing will change. Forever a kind, awkward boy who loves dogs; you lean forward to place lips against his cheek, kissing a freckle as the sobs pour over.

Let this be a mercy. As everything falls back to that time of terror before revolution’s end take this villainy away. Allow a bathe into light, the same kind that shone in soft brown eyes. Let it be good when you awake you again. Maybe this time it will be what is right in front. Maybe then Connor will be alive. Even so at what cost? Why?

“Cyberlife will never win.”

Strength exudes as you look into the face of the man, no the heartless machine that you stupidly gave your heart to. When all you had to do was look at Connor, his sweet smiles in deviancy, his warmth despite his design to do exactly what Nines is now; Connor became alive. He became sweet and a place to feel safe.

Friendship began this and there is where it ended. Foolish you never thinking, never dreaming or hoping Connor will see you more. Then it was too late. Far gone this thought and prayer…

All that remains is a hole in the heart and a desolate stare outwardly to your fate. Raising a chin now brings tear stained streaks, bloodshot eyes onto that face almost identical but harsher, wider and a seal of death.

“Just do it, Nines!” You scream, fury overtaking sadness, betrayal and heartache. Oh so much you ache. For this so-called love and-and for your sweet Connor.

“End me,” you plead. “I want to be with him! I just want to be with Connor now.”

Nines’ digits loosen the tiniest of margins on weapon. A sow of doubt in his programming? Fight to retain his machine persona over needles of deviancy, he cannot allow this disease. You are viral. Contagious!

You-you rather the corpse of a defective cretin over what he is! Filthy deviant! RK900 will not follow footsteps of the RK800. He will do what he failed to do. Amanda will not be disappointed in him!

“Then go,” the android sneers, LED ablaze in sickening scarlet. “Go and be with your RK800! There is no heaven for androids, Y/N.”

A smile draws the lips upon your face. Smiling in the face of everything torn apart but still you hold even then.

“Oh, yes there will be,” so sure the breath escapes that it fills you with a final instance of peace. “Because he was alive. He was an angel. And you won’t stop me finding him there.”

RK900′s facade cracks following the resounding bang of gunshot ending not only your life but contagion. As he lowers the caliber weapon he cannot tear eyes from the still form. Defiant even this truth your life ebbs away but you still find a place to fall, slumped atop Connor’s chest.

Human and android lying dead, blue and red mixing a palette of violet; the moment everything clears a faint smile remains upon your lips.

“I’ll be with him, Nines.”

A phantom echo dissolves his stiff posture. Your voice sticks. It is spreading throughout circuitry, buzzing in mockery. In the end there is incompletion to his mission.

The last laugh against what Nines did to you. Happy to die for a deviant!

He digs fingers into his coffee colored hair, attempting to dig, peel synthetic scalp apart and dismantle an urgent transmission of deviancy. Software warnings pop into vision blurring your peaceful position resting eternally upon his predecessor, inferior and obsolete. Yet, it is still enough for you to crave an end to torment to meet him again.

RK900 screams out in this torrent of infection lying dormant since the first time he became one with your human flesh. It rips him apart bringing him down to knees in a static bellow.

Slowly but surely this instability you leave harboring inside like a symbiotic pest will fry the circuits of brain and drive him viciously insane.

Tag List: @elydith @your-taxidermy

#dbh #rk900 x reader #dbh rk900 x reader #dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #dbh nines x reader #nines x reader #follower/reader appreciation #dbh drabbles #detroit become human #dbh drabble choice #drabble prompt #personal prompts #actually proud of this

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prettywordsyouleft · 6 years

Text

The Sex Contract - Chapter 20

Genre: friends to lovers au / friends with benefits / mature content / romance / angst

Characters: Shim Changmin x Kaia Ashton (OC)

A/N: Due to the overwhelming request I have followed your encouragement to bring back one of my older stories. This was back in a time where OCs were everything and writing one chapter in each main’s point of view was the trend. I hope that even though I have edited this drastically, that you can appreciate this story comes from my older style of writing. I definitely still read this often and find it enjoyable so I hope you will too.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 - FINAL

Chapter 20 – Kaia’s POV.

“So that went incredibly well, huh?” Kaia didn’t respond, her eyes were fixated on the two pieces of paper strewn on the floor by her feet. “I’m sure there was no other way you could possibly think of handling that, Kaia.”

“Your sarcasm isn’t needed right now.” Kaia finally glanced up at Sungra, the Korean smiling sympathetically. “Nothing is needed.”

“Why didn’t you tell him how you feel instead? I swear you are clueless at times.”

Kaia sighed heavily and leaned against Sungra as she crouched down beside her. “Tell him what exactly? That I’m falling in love with him and I can’t bear to see his face or hear his voice because it all hurts too much? I doubt Changmin would want to hear it. In fact, he’s so hell-bent on the friends issue that I know he’s only ever going to see me that way.”

“Kaia, you are simply hopeless.”

“I’m just stating the truth, Sung!” Kaia glared briefly at her friend as the hurt continued to course through her veins. “Shim Changmin is out of my league and doesn’t see me the way I do. I like him but he doesn’t like me. Not in the same way, anyway.”

“Fool.” Sungra shook her head. “Why the hell do you think he left here in such a hurry when he heard about Jaewon?”

“What are you getting at?”

Sungra gave her a hard look. “Ugh, and you wondered why Yunho called you stupid all the time. He’s right; you’re both as clueless as one another!”

“Don’t act like you know the situation Sungra,” Kaia warned and couldn’t help but smirk. “You only met him for less than five minutes and your first reaction was to scream and slam the door in his face.”

“Hey, it wasn’t my finest moment.” She cringed at the memory. “But I wasn’t exactly expecting to open the door and find him there. That kind of stuff happens in movies, not reality.”

Kaia sighed again and thought over the past few months. “I think what Changmin and I did should have remained in the movies too and not become our reality. I’m going to miss him. I miss him right now.”

“Kai, are you going to just stop meeting with him?”

“Of course.” She diverted her eyes to the contract, noting the friends clause. “If we couldn’t protect our friendship from falling, then there’s no way I can attempt to fix it. I’m in love with him now. It’s best I forget I ever had relations with Shim Changmin.”

Getting up off the floor, Kaia hastily picked up the contract and scrunched it up in her hand whilst walking over to her desk. She hovered above the trash bin, blinking a couple of times before dumping the paper into it and turned away.

Kaia had been lucky enough to keep her job at Korea Star despite ending the trip to Japan short. Minah hadn’t even been angry, which had completely surprised her. It was still awkward to work in the office, however, Kaia’s fellow staff members all coming to her now and then in attempts to get information. She couldn’t blame them; she had stuck a big neon sign above her head stating she was an inside source of SME idols. Keith and Sungra slowed them down though, interrupting the conversations sometimes even before they began. Kaia was thankful to them both; she was struggling to work to the best of her ability since returning back to the office anyway.

“Kaia, I have a new article for you to work on.”

Kaia glanced up at Minah and smiled. “Sure, what is it?”

“You have the most knowledge on it.” She handed the transcript to her with a smile and Kaia glanced at it, her breath ceasing. It was regarding Changmin and Kaori and she closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t of reacted so visibly.

“I don’t think I can give this piece a good attempt,” she said softly and avoided eye contact with her boss.

“I wouldn’t give it to you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

Kaia coughed awkwardly. “Abby is very up to date on the TVXQ front also, perhaps she would prove a better candidate for the story?”

“I can do it if you don’t want to Kaia,” the girl mentioned said across from her, and relief coursed through Kaia’s body. She handed it over to her and sat back down, Minah still standing above her.

“Are you avoiding work from SME too?”

“E-excuse me?”

The woman folded her arms across her chest. “Are you still working for SME?”

“Not currently, I’m on a leave of absence.”

“Really? How come?” Hyurin asked quickly and Kaia heard Keith make a hissing sound in her direction. The junior staff member sat back down slowly.

“That is interesting.” Minah nodded and continued. “Your work on the TVXQ TONE promotion was top notch Kaia and I just find it odd you’ve come back from it with a different outlook than you went in. Are you struggling because I told you to write under your real name?”

Kaia looked around at the rest of the occupants of the room, her cheeks reddening. “Shouldn’t we take this to your office?”

“Do you feel uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

Minah smiled. “Don’t worry then, I’ll drop the subject. Back to work everyone.”

Kaia sat there for a moment, watching her boss retreat to the separate office before letting out a deep breath. Chairs from either side of Kaia swivelled around to her cubicle and she glanced at the pair.

“That was intense.”

Keith nodded. “I wonder why she brought all that up in front of us. That’s not like Minah to make a point in front of everyone, is it?”

“She’s normally so nice. I wonder if she is angry you came home earlier than planned Kai?”

Kaia thought over the conversation again and then shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know but I really need to stop looking like a deer caught in headlights every time I come across awkward situations.”

“Don’t worry; your secret is safe with us.”

Sungra slapped the man and shook her head, leaning closer to the man. “Not if you don’t keep acting like there’s a big story that we’re hiding in front of everyone. I swear sometimes you are a dangerous man to be around!”

“You’re just as dangerous Sungra!”

“Really?! I’ll have you know that I’m the best at these types of things!”

Kaia turned away from the bickering pair and back to her computer screen, scooting the chair closer to the device. It was hard to keep her mind from travelling to the report she had briefly scanned just moments ago and so she got to her feet, deciding a bathroom break was in order. Once inside the restroom, Kaia went over to the mirrors and stared at the image reflecting back. It didn’t look like her and as she scrutinised her appearance, her phone started to vibrate in her pocket.

Freezing, Kaia looked down at her jeans. Is it him? Changmin always had an uncanny way of contacting her within this room. Slipping a hand into the pocket, she pulled the device out and unlocked it. Jaewon flashed over the screen instead, and Kaia answered the call quickly before it clicked over to her message inbox.

“Hello?”

“I thought you weren’t ever going to pick up.”

“Sorry I’m in the bathroom,” she admitted the man on the other end chuckled. “I’m fine to talk though, how are you?”

“Missing you.”

“Oh really? How is Japan?” Kaia turned around and leant against one of the sinks, smiling lightly to herself.

“I don’t know, I’m in Seoul currently.” He chuckled again. “I just got in actually.”

“And you chose to ring me?”

“Well I rung my Mum first,” he teased and she laughed. “I want to see you.”

“When?”

“Now, tonight, tomorrow, whenever you’re free.”

Kaia blushed despite being alone. She had forgotten how different Jaewon was about how he was feeling. He was so upfront, unlike other guys. “What about your schedule?”

“Forget that I’m an idol and consider me a man instead.”

“You’re an idol?” Kaia joked and laughed again. “Surely you have a schedule though?”

“Well, I can’t actually do anything tomorrow but my manager gave us tonight off because the choreographer in charge of our new release is sick.”

“I’m so glad to be a second thought then.”

“Hey!” He laughed all the same. “Come on, can you squeeze me in for something tonight? A movie? Dinner? A movie and dinner?”

“I guess I can’t leave you bored,” Kaia agreed slowly, turning back to face the mirrors. “A movie and dinner does sound nice.”

We arranged a time and meeting spot and then hung up, Kaia now looking at the reflection smiling back at her. Her smile grew and she nodded, happy to see the stranger who was previously there was gone.

Kaia just hoped that Jaewon could heal the damage she had recently caused.

_________________

Part 21

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agwitow · 6 years

Text

A Witch’s Bargain

Being a witch in the modern world can be surreal. Normal humans rarely see the fae, spirits, shapeshifters, and other supernatural beings wandering among them. Those that do tend to become targets - either of the beings they see, or of judgmental humans. I’ve never been sure if their blindness was an innate defence mechanism gifted by evolution, or simply a by-product of most beings sliding into our world from a parallel one.

Being blind to the supernatural is not a gift witches possess. In fact, one of the first signs of a witch coming into their power is that their eyes open to the supernatural all around us. Which is a stupid way for our power to manifest. Do you know how many young witches became snacks because they hadn’t learnt how to observe without being observed? Too many. Way too many.

Being a witch means being stuck between two worlds. We are, technically, human. But our magic pulls us toward the supernatural. It’s a stupid dichotomy, and I hate whatever circumstances lead to fae magic becoming entangled in human lineages. Not that it’s fae magic anymore. Oh, no. That stuff has evolved. It’s what makes humans such good familiars for supernatural beings.

But I digress. (Can one digress if they haven’t even started?)

I stood at my door, staring at the man who’d rung the doorbell. His smile was charming - though the flash of fangs beneath his glamour was concerning. Despite the presence of a glamour, I didn’t think he was a fae. At least, I’d never heard of one with dark grey skin, like the ashes left after a bonfire, and electric blue cat eyes. Of course, there are a few other beings that can create glamours, but most glamoured beings are simply using charms created for them by the fae.

Usually that means they look just like an average person. This man was drool-worthy gorgeous. Deep brown skin so dark it was almost a night-sky black, flecks of light brown is his dark eyes, a fade hair-cut that left enough length for some of his natural curl to shine through, and a neatly trimmed beard. If his goal was to blend in with humans, he would fail. Hard. The man looked like a god.

Beneath the glamour, I could see all the markers of his non-humanness. Purple-ish veins flowed beneath skin a colour that no human in the history of mankind had ever possessed. His hair looked the same as his glamour, but white instead of black. And his ears were long and tapered, with a serrated looking edge. Whether that was natural or the result of a body modification of some sort didn’t really seem important at the moment.

“Can I help you?” I asked, realizing I’d been staring at him far too long for polite manners.

His smile widened. “I’m going door-to-door to find lovely ladies, such as yourself, interested in a series of personal improvement coaching sessions.”

I felt a tingle trace up my spine. It took conscious effort to keep his real appearance in view. A shiver raced after the tingle. He, or whomever cast the glamour, was powerful.

“I...I’m not sure today’s a good day,” I said, moving to close the door.

His hand splayed against the door and I felt my fear notch up higher. Supernatural beings weren’t supposed to be able to enter a home without having permission. Was that just a myth? Or was this man so powerful he could force his way in?

“Wait, I’m sure I can make you reconsider,” he said, his smile wide, but his eyes predatory.

The tingle of his magic made my skin itch, and seemed to tie my tongue up in knots. I knew my heart was racing and it felt like I couldn’t get enough air. I shook my head and prayed he didn’t realize I was refusing him because I knew what he was. Well, in general, what he was.

“Come now,” he cajoled, his magic caressing my skin. “Surely there’s some aspect of your life you’d like to improve. I can help you with that.”

I blinked. Was he a soul barterer? Most beings had stopped dealing in souls centuries ago. As powerful as a soul was, they were used up quickly. It was a better long-term investment to ensare a human and siphon off bits of them. Memories, dreams, passions, health, and luck. Less powerful, but naturally replenishing.

“I’m very happy in my life right now,” I lied.

The hunger in his eyes sharpened. “I know that’s not true, Mandana.”

He said my name like he knew it wasn’t my true name, though how he even knew it was another mystery on top of the enigma that was him.

“How do you know my name?” I asked, a little annoyed that the quiver in my voice hadn’t needed to be faked.

“My name is Mernyn, and I’m here to give you your heart’s desire. All you have to do is invite me in,” he said, his voice taking on a lilting quality.

My nerves were already on overdrive, so I wasn’t sure if he’d tried to work more magic on me or not. That none of it, so far, had stuck was dumb luck. My grandmother’s grimoire had a spell to create a protection charm, and I always wore one, but none of the other spells I’d ever tried from it had worked. And I usually tried to keep away from situations where I’d need to test whether the charm worked. I pushed my surprise to the back of my mind and focused on Mernyn.

“If, if, I invite you in, do you promise to leave as soon as I ask? Do you promise to not come back unless invited? Do you...” I wanted to say promise to do no harm but that was too ambiguous. I needed to get more specific. “...promise to do nothing to me without my express permission first?”

His lips curved into a sardonic smile, but I could see the anger simmering in his eyes. “You think a simple promise will keep you safe from strange men?” he asked, his tone light and teasing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, then I’ll promise.”

I frowned. “Say what you’ll promise. Not just that you promise, but what you’re promising me. Say it how I said it to you.”

Even his smile disappeared this time. “You are playing at things you don’t understand, girl.”

Despite how much I wanted to slam the door and run and hide, I straightened my back and met his glare with one of my own. “Come now, Mernyn. I’m sure you’ve figured out I’m not a simple human you can charm into doing what you want.”

He laughed. It was rich enough to give me a tootheache, and ended far too soon. “Oh, I knew you were a witch before I came to your door, Mandana. You don’t think I would actually go door-to-door, ensnaring humans, do you?”

I’d thought just that right until that very moment, but I would shove my bare hands into a beehive before telling him so. “Well, now we both know that we know what each of us is. Yay for us. I’m still not letting you in until you promise.”

“Ah, my little golden one, I could force my way in. Your grandmother’s protections are pitiful things, easily torn aside.”

I shivered. I couldn’t help it. The threat of a man forcing himself into my home was terrifying. From the stories I’d heard, being raped was one of the less horrible things someone like him could do to someone like me.

But...he hadn’t forced himself in yet. His threats were just another way to convince me. To say the, pardon the pun, magic words. Either he was lying about being able to get in on his own, or it would be a time and energy intensive process. Both possibilities provided me with leverage.

“Fuck off. I’m not letting you in without those promises.”

Mernyn laughed again. I blinked in surprise. He was amused? His eyes danced with merriment when he met my gaze and I wondered if this were some strange way to trick me.

“You have spirit. So many of your kin are cowering little things. I will make your promises, but you must make me one in return.”

“Promises aren’t binding for witches, like they are for you,” I pointed out, too surprised by his sudden shift in mood to just accept the win.

He waved a hand dismissively. “It is a nebulous thing I would ask anyway.”

I frowned. “What do you want me to promise?”

“That you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt in all future dealings.”

I snorted. “What makes you think we’ll have future dealings?”

He flashed me a feral grin. “Do we have a deal?”

I hesitated for a moment before holding out my hand. “Deal.”

He clasped my hand and I felt magic burn through my veins. It wasn’t witch magic, but it also wasn’t fae magic. It felt older, wilder, than either of those. When we let go I had to lean against the door to steady myself. Mernyn sagged against the door frame and gave me a weak smile.

“There, we are bound now. I promise to leave your home whenever you ask, and not reenter until I am invited in again. I promise to do nothing to you without your permission first. Will you invite me in now?”

“Come in,” I whispered.

“Thank you, little one. This is going to be the start of a beautiful relationship.”

I just stared at him, a single thought running through my head on a loop.

What had I just gotten myself into?

If you liked this, you might be interested in my published work. You can also support me by ‘buying me a coffee’

#writing #short story #fantasy #witches #fairies #street magic

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claudeng80 · 6 years

Text

Bared Steel (Day 2, Metal)

Obi balances the sword across his knees, watching the lamplight gleam along the edges. They’re straight and true, razor-sharp, not one nick from a block gone wrong and not one subtle curve of a notch ground out. It’s unblemished. It makes him deeply uncomfortable.

It started with Zen’s idea of help, a new tag with a new title, but surely this was not what he had in mind.

“My knives are all I need,” Obi argued, over and over. “I’ll never use it.” But Mitsuhide was deaf to his arguments, the frown on the knight’s face just the vanguard of a belief rooted far too deep to shift. Obi was a knight now. Knights bore swords. Mitsuhide was as excited as if his own squire had been promoted, and Zen took his side.

The next thing Obi knew he was standing before the royal blacksmith, serious discussions flying over his head about hands and height and hilts and balance. Nobody asked Obi, so he just lingered awkwardly under the racks of steel while the smith eyed him over Zen’s shoulder like a bar of particularly suspect iron.

Mitsuhide glowed with pride as his master handed over the sword and ceremonial scabbard. Obi eyed the intricacy of the leatherwork while Zen spoke flowery words about trust and responsibility. He’d killed a man once for shoes, and here he was being entrusted with the “sacred duty” of bearing a sword, a royal gift. He seriously considered escaping through the window, but Kiki’s hand fell on his shoulder, steadying. She’d promised quality booze, and Kiki never reneged. He could hold out, for that.

The drinks were prime indeed, casting a softer light upon his worries for at least one night. Mitsuhide, pink to his fingertips and affectionate with brandy, hung on his shoulder and demanded he name his sword. “A man and his sword share a lifelong bond of trust,” he slurred, Sereg accent heavy in what must have a quote from his own teacher. “Being properly introduced to her is a necessary first step.” Obi could argue. He’d had partners before who’d never known his name, for sure. But he’d never shared a lifelong bond of trust with anyone, either, so he was willing to give Mitsuhide the benefit of the doubt.

There would be no escape from Mitsuhide’s embrace until he named his sword. “Orbia,” he said, then refused to elaborate. He was being tied down one gift at a time, and maybe he could tell himself this was as innocent as Ryuu’s flower seeds if he gave it the same name.

“Sounds like a plant,” said Zen, squinting.

Mitsuhide nodded vigorously in agreement, so much that he stumbled in place. “Time for bed,” Kiki informed him, matter-of-fact, and he pumped Obi’s hand solemnly before turning toward the door. “It’ll be all right,” Kiki murmured to Obi as she passed him, offering a hand just as Mitsuhide had. She grasped his wrist, firm, just for a moment, and he could almost feel he’d accomplished something when she met his eyes before nodding and turning away.

The next morning the sword was lying on his table. He put it in the wardrobe where he wouldn’t have to look at it.

Obi’s had too many years of weapon care drummed into him, too many times his life depended on being prepared, to forget it entirely. No blade of his is going to rust, no matter how little he likes it. His knives don’t have names, but they’re old friends just the same. There’s no telling how many spots he’s ground out, how many times he’s sharpened edges and fixed the balance, smoothing the handles to his own comfort and ease. The sword sits harsh and heavy in his hand instead as he lifts it.

It’s a symbol of an honor he hasn’t earned, and no matter how proud Mitsuhide may be, nobody would mistake him for a real knight. He holds it like a club and the only thing he does right is walk without tripping on the scabbard. When he’s with Shirayuki he can forget, accept the title as the price for staying near her. The rank and file guards don’t care, more impressed by his flips and stories than any title.

But every genuine knight knows the difference. They have a system and he doesn’t belong to it, a grain of sand in the oyster that is Clarines. He wonders if someday the pressure will overcome Zen’s patronage and spit him out like the trash he started as, or whether over time Clarines will make him a pearl.

He catches himself. That all assumes he stays long enough, because he's certainly not taking the sword when he goes. He's never needed one before, and it's the last thing he needs weighing him down. He tries not to think of Mitsubide’s disappointed face, because he never asked the man to care-

Expectations are insidious that way. You stay around people who want something from you long enough, and you forget you’re free.

#answeek2018 #day2 #fanfic #in which obi dislikes a sword

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abigailkua · 2 years

Text

Just wanted to put this chapter of my life here so maybe one day i can look back on it :') - ps not a break up post but close i guess lol

So we met in dec 2021 and this ended in apr 2022.

To be truthful, his first impression was not bad. Felt like a cool, chill person, different from the previous few that ive met before. I liked that feeling, felt special. He is a christian, carries himself pretty well and good relationship with his parents, already a notch above many.

Fast forward mar 2022, i agreed to try things out and see how things would progress despite all the sus that had happened. Because "he was different", because he said he liked me and i was "different" for him too. But i guess that was when things started going south...

Post agreement, nothing changed much. We just agreed to meet once a week for the next 3 months for me to figure things out. At the end, if i feel nothing, he wanted to remain friends and i didnt read much into it because at that point it was a viable option. He talked about plans for the future, what we could do as a couple, how he was excited to do things with me and no cap i was drawn into it.

But all these things fuzzy feels only come when i meet him physically, on that one day of every week. For the other six days, it just feels like he doesnt exist, no text no calls unless its to plan for the next meet up, like a sunday christian. He explained that he was trying to be very careful with me because he didnt want to force himself on me and make me feel uncomfortable since i was still unsure of my feelings towards him. And he assumed that because i was very independent on my own, i wouldnt want someone to cling on to me. And he didnt want to feel rejected if he reaches out to me and i dont respond and so he didnt contact me even though there were time when he wanted to. But to me it just felt like he wasnt genuinely interested because how is it possible that you like me if you dont have the urge to want to talk/text me. And he has been in relationships, he should know better how things worked. But i gave him the benefit of doubt due to his past experiences and so i told him how i felt and like maybe what could work.

So second chance given, he did try to change. He called almost every night (gave him credits for reaching out more) but i guess it was just bad timing because finals were coming up. His work probation was ending and his mind was all over it so whenever he called he would be talking about how worried he was and how he is confused about what his next step should be. I dont blame him but i guess its very draining on my part as i listened to him and then still deal with my own load of stresses. Like i understand why he is stressing but hi i have stress too why you never ask me about my stresses. So once i did ask him "dont you have anything else to think about" and he didnt and that kind of struck something in me. I mean i did know from the start that his work was very important to him but i guess it took too much of him and it kind of indirectly transferred to me. And of course, i didnt like that feeling, i dont want it.

Then i realised, all this time though i was trying my best to understand him better faster, he wasnt. He said he wanted to take his time to find me out but he never asks me questions about me. But he do ask questions about the people around me and it just felt like he wasnt interested in me but more of my lifestyle, or rather he wanted the kind of friendships i have built with the people around me. I guessed that it was because majority of his fun group of friends had went overseas and he has a void that he wants to fill (and he likes big crowd). And to achieve that, he will want to do things together with my friends as a group instead of just me alone. And this made me feel very uncomfortable because i personally dont like mixing my dating life with my social life. Realising how he was trying to "integrate" himself into the life i built for myself without much respect, i decided i had to end it.

Hence on badminton day, day before his work confirmation results come out, he had a hunch from previous nights and so he insisted that i tell him even though i did warn that it might affect his mood. So i told him that we shouldnt see each other anymore due to a difference in our personalities. He asked if we could remain friends and still hang out some time, but because of what i know of him i said we could but i dont think we will ever meet unless there is a good reason to. And i think that was when he cracked because at the end of the day he wanted to make more friends, active friends, friends that he could do activities with. He believed that even if things didnt work out, i would be okay to continue being friends and hanging out because i said "okay" at the start. But being friends after all ive observed wasnt a viable option anymore. I dont need a friend that would only pass on negativity, i dont want a friend that wants to "intrude" into my other social circles, and i dont lack friends.

When he left, i did feel a little angry because of how he acted. He said he was going to be mature about it but it felt like i meant nothing to him when he walked out. I know that obviously he didnt take it very well and he was trying to keep it together all the way through the game but honestly i expected a proper farewell because that is what i would have wanted if i were him. I have been in his position before, i know how it feels but to him i dont because he never bothered to ask. So when i asked him if he was okay and he turned around and snapped at me with "when you are in a relationship you would understand how i feel", i dropped it.

But after he sent that message, after he cooled down, only then could i feel how sad he actually was. And after i sent my message, i realised how hard it was hitting me too. I did really have feelings for him but i guess he really just wasnt what i wanted.

To beehoon: Im sorry if i let this dragged on for too long. Im sorry if i gave you false hopes, im sorry if i hurt you. After all youve been through, i really didnt want you to go through it again. I was really trying my best for this but i just cant. I hope that you would be able to tide through this and move on. Just know there will always be a part of me missing you and wondering how youve been even though that might be the last text you will ever receive from me. (unless you decide to hmu again for whatever reasons)

To myself: You tried. It wasnt meant to be. You didnt want to waste any more of his time. You did the right thing. Dont feel bad for ending it. You were brave and you learnt and most importantly, you grew.

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fuzzballsheltiepants · 7 years

Text

Back to the Start, part 9

All For the Game/The Foxhole Court, post-canon. A few moments of softness this time around, but nothing’s ever easy with the Foxes. Read it on AO3 if you choose. Read Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. I live for your feedback, so likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Half of Andrew was in a hospital room in Boston; the other half was standing in a parking lot next to his GS, a bruised and battered yet unscarred Neil reaching under the driver’s seat. Somehow the auburn hair seemed a surprise. His mind skipped to another memory, or perhaps another part of the same one. The roof of the dorm, the icy bite of wind, and Neil looking at him with that expression in his eyes while Andrew was swamped with fury and disbelief. ‘The next time someone comes for you, stand down and let me deal with it. Do you understand?’ ‘If it means losing you, then no.’ Four years ago, he thought. But something was happening and he thought it was now; the doctor’s voice was sharp, and Neil was leaving. Andrew tore his eyes away from Neil’s retreating back to find Aaron looking at him calculatingly. He didn’t know if that was another memory. ‘I can’t trust them to bring you back.’ He slipped his thumb under his armband and dug the nail in between his scars to help find the present.

“It’s not that we’re not willing,” Aaron was saying, “it’s just that we’re gone ten, twelve hours a day. We can’t be there for him.”

“Then we need to decide if we’re going to do a facility, or a live-in nurse. Given your brother’s needs, that might be the best option.”

“Why is Palmetto off the table?” Aaron asked. The doctors exchanged looks. “I’m serious. Wouldn’t it be helpful for him to be in familiar surroundings?”

“I understand why you might be attached to Mr. Josten -”

“Me?” Aaron laughed. “No. I can barely tolerate the bastard. But that doesn’t mean he’s not right about what’s best for Andrew.”

The doctors fell silent and Aaron looked at Andrew. “You have an opinion here?”

“Just want to make sure I’m clear here,” Andrew said, gesturing at his head. “My options are go to a nursing home -”

“A rehab center.”

“Because that sounds so much better. Okay, I can go to a rehab center, I can go to my apartment with a live-in nurse, or I can drive 14 hours to South Carolina. Yes?” The doctor nodded. “South Carolina.”

She looked startled at his emphatic answer. “Mr. Minyard. Andrew. I’m not sure you understand the benefits to staying nearby. You will continue to need monitoring and care.”

“And there aren’t neurologists in South Carolina? Look, I might have head trauma but I’m not an idiot.”

Dr. Martin started to say something then stopped and studied him for a long moment. “I know you and Mr. Josten are close -”

Aaron laughed and everybody looked at him. “Sorry,” he said, directing the apology at Andrew before looking at Dr. Martin. “I’m just wondering if you would use that wording if I was in that bed and we were talking about Katelyn. Though of course if it was Katelyn you probably would’ve let her stay. Anyway.” He made a shooing gesture. “Carry on.”

“You kicked Neil out,” Andrew said before the doctor could reply, “so you don’t get to blame him for my decision.”

There was more blustering but Andrew stared her into silence. After a long look between the two doctors, Dr. Martin started talking about necessary arrangements. Aaron gave her Abby’s contact information and the doctors turned to go. “When will I be discharged?” Andrew asked before they could leave.

“If you keep up like this, and can get onto oral medication for your headaches, tomorrow or Monday.”

Andrew nodded and the doctors left, no doubt sighing in relief. Aaron texted something then looked up at Andrew. “I’m surprised you let them do that. Kick Neil out.”

Andrew shrugged, debating whether to answer. “I was remembering something.” Andrew saw no need to clarify that sometimes it was hard to differentiate the past and the present, and Aaron didn’t ask.

The girlfriend poked her head in. “Um, Neil went for a walk,” she said. “I texted him but he hasn’t replied yet.”

Aaron snorted. “He’s probably off running somewhere.” Andrew wasn’t sure why his stomach clenched, why his fingers dug into the blanket.

“I figured. If he’s not back soon I’ll go look for him,” the girlfriend said. “Did you guys work everything out with the doctors?”

“He’s going back to Palmetto,” Aaron said, and she smiled, her whole face lighting up.

“Good, oh, that’s great, actually.” She snuggled back in with Aaron in the chair and they started talking about their physiology classes. Andrew half listened, half looked at the magazine the nurse had given him, pretending that his eyes weren’t constantly straying towards to door looking for a flash of red.

*****

It only took one rep of running all twelve flights of stairs and one near miss of almost crashing into a distracted intern for Neil’s mind to quiet. He walked around in the lobby, staying away from the windows and the cluster of paparazzi he could see outside. His phone buzzed in his pocket for the dozenth time and he pulled it out, then sat down to go through the texts. Several from Allison, the daily check-in from Nicky, two from Matt, one from Dan, and this exasperated one from Robin. He replied to hers first, giving her an exercise to run the arrogant assholes through to check their egos. Technically they didn’t have practice today, but he knew with the championships coming that his core crew would be at the court anyway. Jack might have been a dick but at least he was devoted to the sport.

He scrolled through his contact list until he found Andrew’s defense line coach. He stared at the number for a long minute before pressing it. Coach Estrejena picked up on the first ring, and Neil’s phone buzzed at the same time. “Coach, it’s Neil Josten.”

There was a brief pause, then, “Josten. Is Minyard able to have visitors now?”

“I haven’t asked him. That’s not why I’m calling.”

“Damnit, Josten.”

“I know, I know. But I need to come get Andrew’s stuff from the stadium.”

“Er, that’s not a great idea right now.”

Neil sighed. “Press?”

“Yeah. You could’ve warned us, you know.”

“Sorry, Coach, but I really couldn’t.”

Neil could hear Estrejena breathing through the phone. “I guess I get that. Okay. Well, how about I come over with his stuff after practice, and you take the next few hours to find out if he’s up for visitors. And by find out, I mean back the hell off and let me go in and talk to him.”

“Only if he says it’s okay.”

“Seriously? I just need to talk to him.”

“I don’t give a shit about what you think you need, Coach. Sorry.”

“You’re a real asshole, Josten.”

“That’s one word for it. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

His phone buzzed again just as he was hanging up. The first message was from Katelyn, that the doctors were done dictating Andrew’s fate; the second was from Aaron. Where tf are you?

He set his phone face down on his knee for a minute that turned into ten as he watched the people coming and going around him. Rationally he knew that delaying learning the decision would not impact the actual outcome but for a while it seemed easier just not to know. Finally he flipped his phone over. Lobby. I’ll come up

Don’t bother the OT just came in I’ll come down and get a coffee

Neil wondered what the OT was while he waited. Aaron and Katelyn appeared and he joined them in their walk to the coffee shop. “So he’s going with you,” Aaron said as soon as he joined them. Neil was startled to feel prickling in his eyes and he looked down. “Yeah, he didn’t even hesitate.”

Katelyn gave his arm a squeeze and he nodded and cleared his throat. “Glad that’s settled. What’s the OT?”

“Occupational Therapist,” Katelyn answered. “That Ben guy?”

Neil stopped dead, surprising the others. “I don’t know who that is.” There was a weird pounding noise and muffled yelling that Neil could barely hear over the roaring in his ears.

“Don’t worry, the guy’s cool,” Aaron said. “He gets it. He’s making sure Andrew can do like, basic things before he goes. Showering and stuff.”

“You left him alone with some guy he doesn’t know?” The pounding got louder.

“It’s fine, Neil,” Katelyn said. Neil was already turning towards the stairs.

Aaron made an exasperated noise. “Neil, Andrew basically - ugh, fuck these people.”

Neil looked over to see that the pounding and yelling was the paparazzi banging on the windows. He hadn’t realized they had gotten that close to the entrance. Aaron was already moving to the door and people lifted cameras to their faces in a wave of movement. He strode through the automatic doors and yelled, “Wrong fucking Minyard, assholes!” before spinning on his heel and coming back. Katelyn covered her mouth in her hands, her shoulders shaking; Neil wondered if he was supposed to do something for her. Aaron got back to them with a disgusted expression and Katelyn dropped her hands, revealing bright, sparkling laughter. Neil’s opinion of her went up several notches and he couldn’t help but grin.

Aaron went on like nothing had happened. “Anyway, Andrew basically booted us out. He didn’t want us there when he was showering.”

“I don’t care, I’m going back up there.”

Aaron just shrugged in response. “Do you want anything?” Katelyn asked. Neil shook his head and headed towards the stairs.

Andrew’s door was closed and he practically burst through. He could hear the shower running and there was a man in scrubs standing in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the jamb holding a towel. He flashed Neil a big smile when he came in. “You must be the boyfriend, huh?” he said, holding out his hand. Neil stared at it in confusion. “I’m Ben, I’m making sure your man doesn’t kill himself trying to shave or some shit.”

Neil took his hand hesitantly. “Hi. Neil.”

“Yeah, I know, man. I heard from one of the residents you two are some big time athletes or something huh?”

“Or something.”

Ben gave an easy laugh. “I’m not really into exy, more of a basketball guy myself. But he says you’re hella good, I’ll have to check out one of your games.” The water cut off. “Hey, man, how’s it going in there? Ready for a towel?” When he got the affirmative he tossed the towel up, Neil presumed into the shower. “Now, it’s your choice, man. I can let you put a hospital johnny on yourself, or I can give you some sweats but you’ll have to let me make sure you can put the pants on safely.”

“Fuck off, I can put pants on,” came Andrew’s voice.

“Yeah, man, everybody says that but then you lose your balance, hit your head on the toilet or some shit, and you’re stuck here for another month and I lose my job, right?” There was a long pause. “So what is it, sweats or the dress?”

“Give me the fucking sweats.”

Ben glanced at Neil. “I’m gonna close this door partway, okay?” There was some low muttering and Ben’s booming laugh, then the door swung open. “Now, you wanna shave or are you going to go for some hipster bald-with-a-beard look?”

“My choices are cancer patient or balding hipster. Fantastic.”

“I don’t know,” Neil interjected. “I think your beard and hair are growing back at about the same rate. You can go full-on hipster in a few months.” Ben laughed at the flat look Andrew gave him and Neil couldn’t fully bite back his grin.

Andrew held out his hand and Ben dropped a razor in it. Neil had watched him shave plenty of times before; for some reason he always kind of liked it. It was one of the things Andrew was meticulous about, unlike Neil who would run the razor haphazardly over his face while making coffee or getting dressed and was always finding random spots he’d missed. And apparently this was one thing that hadn’t been lost; he always started on the left side and worked his way across, then down over his throat; always the same pattern, the same facial expressions, the same flicks of his wrist over the edge of his jaw.

“Staring,” Andrew said when their eyes met in the mirror. Neil didn’t look away and Andrew returned to the task at hand, though his eyes kept flicking back to Neil’s.

“Congratulations,” Ben said when he took the razor back. “You can officially shower, put pants on, and not cut your throat with a razor.”

“It’s an electric razor.”

“No kidding.”

They ended up walking laps afterwards, mostly because Andrew was bored and Ben had a little time. Aaron and Katelyn had returned and stayed in the room to study. Neil walked silently along with them, surprised when they began debating the merits of Isaac Asimov. He knew Andrew was widely read, despite his odd aversion to libraries, but he had never heard anyone argue that Asimov’s books were all inherently sexist before. Then again, he had never read Asimov. At least he’d heard of him. He smiled to himself; it reminded him of debates they’d had with Renee those first couple years at PSU.

Back at the room Ben promised to bring by a book before he left for the night. Katelyn and Aaron were piled in the chair again and Neil eyeballed the window ledge until Andrew scooted over in the bed, making room. He rolled his eyes at Neil’s unspoken question and Neil settled in next to him, leaving one leg off so there were a few inches of space between them. He pulled out his phone and went back through his texts. “Hey, Allison sent us Coach’s press conference from yesterday.”

He pressed play and held the phone so Andrew could see easily. It was…a disaster. All the reporters wanted to know was what the situation was with Andrew and Neil. They tried a dozen different ways of asking but Wymack just stared at them and asked if they had any questions related to exy. Eventually they moved onto the upcoming game, and everything seemed to be going smoothly until one reporter asked, “What do you have to say about Josten’s tirade against the reporter?”

“I think the kid summed it up pretty well. Any more questions about the championships? No? Good.” He turned and walked away to a chorus of his name.

Aaron had been listening and he shook his head at the end. “I pity whoever is your PR person next year, Josten.”

Andrew twisted his fingers in Neil’s sleeve and Neil almost jolted at the contact “Your team is going to have to double the salary of whoever draws that short straw.”

“What, like you’re any better? You had to have something in your contract demanding you sign autographs.”

That subtle flicker of humor lit Andrew’s eyes and Neil had to fight the urge to ask to kiss him. “At least I’m a silent pain in the ass. You always give them a sound bite that gets blasted all over the internet.”

Neil shrugged and looked over at Aaron. “At least I didn’t just call them a bunch of assholes.” Katelyn started laughing again and Neil joined in until Andrew’s fingers twisting tighter demanded the story. Neil and Katelyn told it in tandem and Andrew shook his head at the end of it.

“You’re all idiots,” he said, but his knee ended up against Neil’s and Neil couldn’t have stopped smiling if he tried.

*****

Coach Estrejena showed up near the end of visiting hours, not that those had been enforced once the entire week. Neil had warned Andrew during the afternoon, but he found he didn’t really care either way. He remembered his defense line coach, as well as the rest of his team, at least superficially.

Neil had gotten to his feet at the knock on the door. The coach set a duffel down at the foot of the bed and surveyed the room, his eyes lingering on the girlfriend in a way that had Aaron bristling. “It’s a right party in here, huh?” he said finally.

The girlfriend introduced herself and Aaron nervously and the coach had the good sense to look at Andrew before something unpleasant happened. Well, unpleasant for him. Andrew thought it might be rather amusing if he continued to push Aaron’s buttons. Everyone had always thought he was the only dangerous Minyard; he wondered if that was still true, or if Aaron also had to live under that cloud of suspicion.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” Coach said, and Andrew refocused. “And that your guard dog let me in.”

“Why did you want to see me?” Andrew asked, sure he knew the answer. He wondered if Coach would beat around the bush or not.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay. That was a hell of a hit.” But he wouldn’t quite meet Andrew’s eyes and Neil picked up on it.

“What the fuck are you trying to say?” Neil asked.

Estrejena gave him a scathing look that Neil met with his own version. “Minyard, call off your dog.”

“No,” Andrew said. “He’s quite useful at cutting through bullshit.”

There was silence in the room. Aaron leaned forward in the chair, looking from the coach to Andrew. Neil stood poised at Andrew’s shoulder, braced to throw Estrejena out completely if needed. The coach may have been six inches taller and a good fifty pounds heavier, but Andrew’s money was on Neil if it came down to it.

As expected, the coach broke first. “We’re just wondering what the doctors have told you.”

“They’ve told me a lot of things. What specific information are you looking for?” He knew it, he knew it, but he wanted to make him say it.

Estrejena looked at the floor before dragging his eyes up to Andrew’s cheek. “Are you expected to make a full recovery?”

Neil exploded, and Estrejena took a big step back. “Are you fucking kidding me? Are you seriously asking if he’s going to play again a week after he got a skull fracture on your fucking court?”

Aaron was on his feet, and Andrew couldn’t tell if he was planning to stop Neil or help him if he went after the coach. Estrejena held up his hands like he was warding off a wild animal.

“I just…We need to know if we need to look for a new goalie for next season.”

And there it was.

The past two days in the quiet moments, the question had been chasing him. He had never had Neil’s all-consuming passion for the game, nor Kevin’s unwavering dedication. Though his memories of the past five years were scant, several of them involved him sitting silent in the bleachers while they perfected their game; eating every damn thing Kevin told him to avoid; mocking them for their single-mindedness, especially Neil. He had fought every attempt by those two idiots to drag him over to that dark side.

He hadn’t succeeded.

Not that he would ever be like them, and let the sport take over every waking moment. But there was satisfaction in being the best. There was pride in being the one that everyone on the team looked to be the final defense. So help him, he was almost happy on that court, when the racquet reverberated with the force of the ball, when he could read the striker’s eyes and beat them to the corner, when he slammed a pass down the court to where only his striker could get it. Where only Neil could get it.

There are three things in the world I don’t want to lose. It was so loud in his head at first he was afraid he had said it aloud. After all, some manifestation of all three things were in this room right now. He looked from the coach to Aaron then slowly up at Neil. The expression in those crystal eyes told him that he already knew.

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #neil josten #andrew minyard #andriel #fanfic #my writing #amnesia #hospital #hurt and comfort #a little fluff #a little angst #aaron minyard #katelyn

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