#but. one thing i can guarantee is that i generally am not concerned with stranger's perception and opinion on me

[kerosene-saint]

hashtag one of the few jobs I can do as a physically disabled person is like. live streaming and being a youtuber. which is generally regarded as VERY BAD FOR YOUR MENTAL HEALTH. which really fucking sucks considering I am physically disabled and am much more likely to have mental health problems and already do and have for a long time.

[childofchrist1983]

Then the word of the LORD came unto me, saying, Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations. Then said I, Ah, Lord GOD! behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child. But the LORD said unto me, Say not, I am a child: for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. Be not afraid of their faces: for I am with thee to deliver thee, saith the LORD. - Jeremiah 1:4-8 KJV

As Christians, we are chosen and willing to be disciples of God in order to serve Him and spread the Good News of Jesus Christ concerning the coming of the Kingdom of God. Although we might be afraid that we are not up to the task, much as Jeremiah was, God promises to help us just as He did with Jeremiah. Without the witness of the early disciples, we would not know of Jesus Christ. Without our witness, how will future generations come to know Jesus and be saved by Him? How will we know what to say? What will others think about us? These might be questions that hold us back, but God is by our side helping us, giving us the words and wisdom we need at the right time. Our job is to look for opportunities to do our duty assigned to us by the LORD God Almighty.

So many times we can be talking to a stranger and the conversation turns to God. We can have a wonderful conversation about our Christian faith, our trust and confidence in God. Sometimes, these conversations begin when a friend tells us about a loved one being sick and we offer to pray for them. Sometimes, the opportunity comes after a political ad or speech. More so, a discussion might evolve because of a tragedy, either from a weather incident or after one of the many terrorist attacks the world has dealt with in the past few years. In any case, it's important for us to be open about our faith and also willing to listen to the views of others. We have been appointed and we need to accept the responsibility to spread the Good News of the Gospel throughout this lost, fallen and sinful world. May He give us the words we need to lead others to Him.

May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will for all our lives.

Everyday, we must remember to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and guilt. May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[accio-victuuri]

The GG & Li-Ning & Xianjiang Cotton Situation

I was asked to give my opinion. This is also for other bxgs who may have the same sentiment. You don’t have to agree with me but i hope you respect whatever it is I choose to share here. This is my blog and my space. I maintain this out of my pure enjoyment of the fandom and all the good it has given me. So let me address some of the points.

Li-Ning boasts their use of XinJiang Cotton

My simple answer here is, of course they will. This is not something new. Li-Ning is a celebrated olympic medal winning gymnast. A billionaire. You don’t get to that place in CHN w/out supporting the government’s agenda. In this case, that there is no injustice and persecution going on in Xinjiang. This brand, boasting about China made cotton, in their terms, shows patriotism and support for their country. This brand’s literal goal at first was to provide a local brand for Chinese athletes to wear in the Olympics. This is also not the first time that Li-Ning had been called out along w/ other international brands due to questionable ethical practices.

I find it very hard to believe that the timing of GG’s massive Li-Ning ad campaign, coinciding as it has with these Western brand boycotts, was a coincidence.

Let’s get this out of the way. Whether the boycott happened or not, Li-Ning is guaranteed an insane amount of sales because they hired Xiao Zhan. This is the same man who always sells out products in seconds. Who took KXZ to 200% growth and so on. I can talk about stats all day but this massive campaign for him is a no brainer. GG is expensive and a guaranteed success. Any brand who hires him will be stupid to not launch an all out campaign across all cities. Li-Ning knows what they are doing by hiring him. For years, they have been trying to appeal to Gen Z. Especially now that youth in CHN are more and more into the “guochao” (国潮) - National trend. Integrating traditional chinese culture and fashion w/ domestic brands. This ties in with the whole movement of erasing the connotation that made in china is of inferior quality. GG was a good choice. He appeals to the younger generation (19-25) and the working class ( 26 and up ) who buys goods. I would imagine even GG’s team did their research and knows this trend is going on too. This will not be the last you will see of this type of endorsement from him or Web. The rumors on this collaboration was going around as early as, March 15 I think? I was literally asking another bxg if GG’s ad will be pushed back a day or two because of what was happening. or what will this all implies. He was always gonna come out and endorse this brand boycott or not.

I am not removing the possibility that these local brands have a hand in the boycott. It’s a very valid concern. or that, it was a convenient perfect storm for them. A perfect storm of EU, US & CAN sanctioning CHN. The sudden attack on brands’ statements against Xinjiang cotton from a year ago. The whole agenda of controlling the people’s view on what is happening. All of these are connected. sure. There are many things behind the scenes that we will not know but we can make an educated guess of. Li-Ning is not the only domestic brand that had a positive push because of this.

On 3/25 Li-Ning’s stock closed with a high of 10.74% , plus an added 9% on the 26th when GG was announced as ambassador. The same thing happened with Anta and others.

I find it very hard to stomach seeing Li-Ning ads on my dash, regardless of GG’s presence in them. Without condemning him for taking this endorsement deal, and without judging what he is or is not personally aware

I will just be addressing GG’s alleged part in all this. I say that cause we don’t live in his brain and won’t know what he’s thinking. You can all try and project your values on him but he is a whole person of his own. I have hopefully given some view on why GG accepted to endorse this brand in the previous point. GG has spent most if not all, of his life in China. He has repeatedly said that he was brought up traditionally. Tho his father was very encouraging in him participating in the arts and widening his knowledge. He had Foreign professors at CBTU. He is part of the generation that knows what’s going on outside by using the internet. He’s smart. I would guess that he is aware of the country he is living in vs what it’s like outside of it. But at the end of the day, his loyalty will always be with his country. I hate to break it to you all but he will continue to live and thrive as an Actor even without international support. Tho it is great that he is a source of National Pride with how people outside of China love him.

Now, about his support for Xianjiang Cotton. I wanna start by showing this:

It’s a post from People’s Daily wb which boasts all the c-ent top stars that voiced their support of XJ cotton. The sense is, hey people look at your idols supporting the cause. Look at their Patriotism. What do you think will happen if GG was not on this list? Knowing that he is a top star in CHN. Knowing he was just in hot waters post 22*? Knowing that he is actively being endorsed in CCTV which is a National Channel. Are we still surprised that he posted that support? I was just honestly waiting for him to post if anything. I talked before about how C-ent celebrities are expected ( and actually it’s in their law ) to be more morally upright than the lay people. This is prime example of that.

Another one is this from CCTV Wb. I’m including this for you all to have an understanding of how this whole thing is being played out in CHN. This is the type of online narrative that is going around and I would think GG is seeing. The sentiment is,

“No matter what hardships, ups and downs and blows go through in our country, her people will always come from all directions and stand up to speak justice and do just things.”

It’s also showing all the hot searches that is related in support of XJ cotton and defending CHN’s innocence.

Also this video that was heavily circulated showing mechanized picking of cotton vs the allegations of manual.

This is the kind of narrative that is going around, as expected. I don’t really fault GG or condemn him for doing what is best for him. What is the best for an individual does not always mean it’s the best for all. In talks like this, I always try and put myself in their position. I mean, who the hell are these people trying to attack my country? the country that has provided for me. I wanna say I understand where they are coming from but understanding does not mean agreeing. I see these A LOT. ALOT ON WEIBO. The China vs. Everyone story. It’s the notion of, they are attacking us and we must protect the country. Also keep in mind that news is heavily regulated.

You know what type of news the CCP would love for them to get a hold of? The rising attacks on Asians in the US. Oh boy they would fuckin love that! Making America the big/bad asian-hating boogeyman in the eyes of their people yet again.

Okay, now we’re down to the final part of this. Why do I share the promo pics for Li-Ning. Where do i draw the line.

To me it’s simple. It had GG in it. I was waiting for this to come out, and tbh, would you all even know about this brand’s practices if the boycott didn’t happen? No. This is a bjyx blog where i share things about them. That includes ad, dramas, pictures and videos. I understand if people don’t feel comfortable w/ Li-Ning ads and others, so just don’t like those posts. Did I buy anything from the collection? No. Did I buy multiple copies Web’s single Youth in Times ( like i do with his other singles )? No. That’s where I draw the line in this. I know we’re all gonna be put on a tight spot again once Faith Makes Great comes out. Once I saw that leaked pic, Ooohhh! I just know. Also if BAH adds some propaganda about CHN’s war on drugs. I am just waiting. I am ready. I know what my values are. I will not allow other people to dictate who I am. I know what type of content I’m only gonna be sharing.

I see this very forceful air of asking bxgs to take a stand on this ( always bxg, never the other side. always us of course even if we are the minority) and it really puts me off. I read someone say that they will not say anything because they don’t owe strangers on the internet an explanation. Which is true. I have separate spaces that I share my views on world/local issues. Accounts that show my actual name and around people I know in real life. That’s what I choose to do for myself. I started this blog for myself and i still find it very bizarre that people follow this account. I am not some sort of KOL, let’s get that straight. This is just a blog where I talk about things if i want to and SCREAM about GG and Web too much. I will probably not answer any follow up questions on this cause i feel like I have addressed a good chunk of it.

Just know that whatever I post on here in support of GG and his projects does not equate to my entire political/moral stand regarding this event or any. It’s really good that we have conversations like this cause it’s an important one.

Whew! That was a long post! 😅

[archived-mononokeland]

ask : Yes!! show us any drawings you have. Would love to see any fan art. Do you still open your writing request? If so I want to request headcanon of the brothers reaction when they found mc fainted and sick because this mc is rather hard working and pushover one.

Currently, I have no Obey Me fanart, but I am working on an Asmo piece so I hope I get finished with that!

And yes, my requests are open until I make an announcement that I’ve closed it. Sorry I was late to do this though! I kind of get too carried away and so each character is very lengthy ;;

The brothers’ reactions to finding you fainting and sick from over-working:

[] —— lucifer  —— []

Lucifer is very surprised and concerned when he finds you passed out in one of the House’s hallway one afternoon with a temperature hotter than usual.

He picks you up bridal style and carries you to your room and sets you down on the bed.

He notices that you have dark circles under your eyes, more prominent than Belphegor’s occasional ones.

He goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water, making sure that no one sees him.

Just as he was about to leave with a note telling you to text him when you wake up, your eyes open groggily.

Once he let’s you get a grip, he asks you on what made you pass out like that.

Diavolo wouldn’t like to hear that the exchange student fainting like that, surely. But he was very concerned himself.

After you explained that it may or may not be because of the work and tasks, Lucifer felt guilty. When he thinks about it, each favor he’s asked of you, you never really did decline.

He made a note to lessen your work from now one, and that you can tell him if it’s too much for you, “Because it’d be quite the trouble if this happens again, no?”

He insists that you shouldn’t go to school and take a break because, “seeing the exchange student on less than healthy conditions wouldn’t look well.”

But of course it’s more than that, and you knew.

And he does try to take care of you, now doing his paper work in your room on your desk and looking after you.

[] —— mammon —— []

Poor boy, when you collapsed in his arms, hotter than usual, just as you opened the door for him, his first reaction is panic.

He freaks out for a good five minutes before setting you down on the bed.

He thinks you’re going to die, so he just goes out bawling for a while.

Until you wake up, very confounded to see a crying Mammon by your side.

He clings to you and rambles at lightning speed once he found that you actually weren’t dead, leaving you more dumbfounded than ever.

“Wait, Mammon, s-slow down—”

Of course he eventually does, followed by a little tangent on how, “the Great Mammon d-doesn’t care for a little human like you, no, not at all!”

You ignored all that and asked him to explain.

Once you heard his story, you admitted that maybe you’ve been overworking a bit, and that’s why you’ve declined on hanging out with him—or anyone for that matter—and why you’ve passed out.

It took a few minutes for Mammon to finally work it all out, which at that point he huffs and begins to ramble about how stupid Lucifer’s giving you too much work.

You managed to calm him down before he goes and yells at his face on your behalf, and convinces him to help nurse you back to good health.

Which he agreed in less than a second, all red and stuttering.

And while you were sick, he’d go get you anything! Just ask for it and give him a few minutes and he’ll bring it back to you.

And he’s now glued by your side, spending the night with you. He’d even begin making excuses that you were still sick so you two can be around each other.

He also won’t let anyone else come close, cause he was your first, who needs the others to take care of you!?

But oh, when you’re halfway through the healing process, he will drag you to Lucifer to complain that he’d putting too much on the human without you even managing to slip in anything.

In the end, it is thanks to this idiot demon that you were now working less than before.

[] —— leviathan —— []

When Leviathan found you just fainting mid-game while you two were hanging out, he had negative ideas on what to do!

He paused the game and just put you in his bathtub bed, making sure that there was enough pillows at the bottom so that it’s comfortable.

He sees the bags under your eyes and came up with a possibility that you passed out from tiredness. After all, one-too-many late nighters also gave him that experience.

He’d just sit there by the side of the tub awkwardly, not sure what to do.

When you finally did wake up, he’d just look at you with unspoken panic while you get a grip on reality first.

Seeing you wince in pain was also adding to the panic in his mind, so he asks you how you’re doing.

You confessed you had a headache and your throat was dry, so Levi went and got you one of his many bottles of water from his supply of ‘being a shut-in’.

He asked you if you’ve bee sleeping well, to which you answered that you may or may not have been swamped with tasks and work recently.

You can hear him mutter under his breath something about your stupid tasks and why you can’t just chill and play games.

But he quickly snaps back and decides a break would be good for you.

He sets up a comfy place and just have you lie there. Maybe if he finds you awake he’ll let you borrow some of his games. He’ll probably convince you to play something relaxing like the new Animal Crossing.

If you’re in need of food or drinks, Levi will just give you some of his stock of snacks and drinks.

[] —— satan —— []

Satan’s very surprised to find you fainting whilst you were looking for some books in his room.

He sets you down on his bed and immediately looks through his books on human health. After all, something about the circles under your eyes were telling of what you may have.

He reaches the conclusion of lack of sleep and stress, something along those lines.

Uh-oh, detective time! He might gather the information more of why you weren’t getting enough sleep. You did come to his room in hopes to find books of Devildom history and Devildom laws. And sometimes he would overhear you complaining a bit of your tasks and schoolwork, and you did seem to be doing most of Lucifer’s cooking duties…

In the meantime, he prepares a glass of water for you, and a pot of tea for the both of you.

When you wake up, he asks how you’re feeling, and suggests that you take a drink.

Once you’ve finally realized what happened, he finally tells you his theory and whether he was right or wrong.

You nod. He asks if it’s something about Lucifer giving you too much work. Another nod.

That answer alone earns a sigh from him. He tells you to go to sleep and get some rest.

And once you do, he makes sure you’re asleep and goes to confront Lucifer about it.

You stay in his room mostly, the smell of books comfort you. And most of the time, if you’re in trouble of getting to sleep, or just because either of you feel like it, Satan will read you a story with a nice cup of tea.

[] —— asmodeus —— []

Seeing you passed out in front of his door isn’t a scene that he imagined. Picking you up bridal style, he decides to set you on his bed.

The dark bags under your eyes were noticed in a second upon laying his eyes on you. That enough is concerning to him. After all, sleep is crucial to your skin!

He would’ve cuddled next to you, but he needed your consent.

… However, he isn’t that much knowledgeable of how to treat a human like this.

He will probably set up some light fragrance candles for when you wake up.

And also a glass of water, cause hydration is also important.

And when you do, the first thing he does is to scold you for not taking care of yourself.

“Sleep is important for your skin! You can’t be walking around with dry skin, can you?”

You chuckle and explained to him that yeah, you might’ve been too busy with work and school to get enough sleep.

He will have a long talk with you on how to take care of your skin, and yourself in general for a long time, until you promise him that you would.

Other than things related to beauty and looks though, he doesn’t know much about the human body. So if you need something, you have to tell him.

And he will get it for you.

He’ll try all he can to get you back to health.

If you don’t have anything contagious, maybe like a headache, he could cuddle with you to try and soothe it.

He might’ve took a picture of your while asleep. Who could blame him, you’re just too cute!

Once you’re back to your feet though, he will drag you to a salon to pamper yourself properly before you can get to work.

[] —— beelzebub —— []

It happened during Beelzebub’s late night fridge raids. You came into the kitchen to get a glass of water, then just… fainted.

The sheer amount of shock and concern was enough to get him to stop eating and check on your body. Then, he’ll bring you to his room and lay you down on his bed.

Of course, his stomach couldn’t survive for long so he’d grab as many snacks as he could and emptied the fridge, then came back to check on you.

When you woke up, Beel hurried to your side, relieved that you weren’t actually dying or anything.

He asks if you were okay, and you just answered that perhaps you were tired.

The bags under your eyes were no stranger. After all, with Belphegor as his twin, sometimes he’d see them on him.

He pressed a bit further, and that alone was enough for you to tell him that you were tired from working too hard. And the fact of how humans are such fragile creatures dawned upon Beel again.

It took him a while to convince that it wasn’t something that Beelzebub could protect you from with his strength, and that all you needed was sleep.

He’ll let you sleep on his bed as long as you’d like. He’d try to position the pillows so that it would be as comfortable as possible.

And it seems that each time his hands come near you, they’re very gentle. Like he’s afraid that too much pressure might break your bones.

He will try to make soup to help you. Try. There’s no guarantee that he might eat half of the ingredients during the process.

Similar to drinks and food that he brings. Probably about half of what was supposed to be your portion gets fed to Beel.

You promised him that you won’t get this much tired from overworking again.

From then on, you can find him sending texts through your D.D.D., making sure you weren’t overworking again.

[] —— belphegor —— []

He found you in the planetarium with a mind that seems to be half-working, your eyelids drowsing to sleep every few minutes.

And sure enough, just as he arrived to get to his usual napping spot, you passed out.

He took a look of your face. It was an easy assumption for him to make that you didn’t sleep as long as you should’ve.

And so he let you. He would’ve put you in either your or his room but… that was too much energy. So he used the pillow he had all the time and shared it.

Sleeping with you under the stars were a surprisingly elating experience for him. Who knew a human’s presence could do such a thing.

He’d soon follow you in sleeping until you woke up.

In the end, it’d probably you dragging him to your room, his room, or the attic for a more comfortable space to sleep in.

In the matters of food and drinks, Belphegor would probably rely on Beel more, as he’s too lazy to leave your side.

Sleep is the best medicine, so he’ll most likely just convince you to stay in bed and sleep as long as you’d like.

He’d probably slip in with you. To which cuddles would most likely proceed next.

A bit sad once you’re back to your usual self, now that he can’t just spend his day sleeping next to you.

However he will make sure that you aren’t overworking yourself again.

And he will tell Lucifer of your problems via text.

[misterghostfrog]

39 FOR THE PROMPTS PLEASE AAAAA

LOOK OK, i’m going to start by saying this one... got away from me a little bit. And I didn’t originally mean to combine the prompts, and neither are technically correct. BUT consider you can’t stop me

39. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

30. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

Cw; This takes place after the unknowing but before Jon wakes up in canon, and Martin starts in a rough headspace. Also accidental compulsion.

(This is actually a sorta part-2 to the pre-unknowing ficlet I did! Tho u don’t gotta read it to understand it works as a standalone too. Anyway welcome to the AU ZONE)

EDIT: fixed a typo

Martin usually visits Jon on Thursday.

He used to visit every day. But the nurses began to give him looks after the first month, and it was hard to balance checking on Jon with regular life things like groceries, laundry, and work. So he’s cut back. If only to preserve his sanity.

He considered Sunday. But Sunday is the day he visits his mum, another thing that has been hard to balance with- well. Everything. Besides, it’s hard to stack that much heartbreak into one day.

The receptionist gives him a funny look. He would give himself a funny look too, he looks a wreck, he knows it. She knows him, so seeing him on a wednesday looking like he crawled out of the back end of hell. Or maybe just hasn’t done any laundry for a few days. Or showered. And got in a fight and lost.

He’s already waited too long though, he thinks. He... well. It’s his last chance, he supposes. If Jon isn’t coming back, then...

Yeah.

It’ll be for the best.

He turns the knob on the door, he knows what he’ll say. Even if he’s talking to a dead man he needs a speech apparently. And-

He bounces off of something- or someone. Who trips back a step in turn.

“Oh god- I’m so sorry-” He says almost automatically.

“No, don’t worry about it I wasn’t-”

“I wasn’t even looking where I was going a-and-”

“Really it’s fine-”

The man isn’t a nurse, Martin’s sees that much. He’s tall-ish. Handsome, certainly. Definitely no-one he’s ever met. And certainly no-one he thinks might have a reason to visit Jon. Not that Jon shouldn't get handsome visitors, but- well. He doesn’t- didn’t? Have many people outside of the institute he ever talked about. And so this guy turning up out of the blue is... well.

“Er- I’m sorry, but who... who are you?”  He’s not- he’s not upset. that this random stranger is visiting Jon. It’s just weird is all. Yeah. Really weird, actually.

“Oh! I- I’m- I’m a friend of Jons.” The man says with an awkward smile, his eyes darting down to his shoes for a moment as he says it. “Er- Antonio.” He tacks the name on like an afterthought. This time his gaze flicks somewhere around Martin's shoulder, he shuffles on his feet.

Martin’s never been an expert at picking up on lies, not to say he’s bad at it. He just doesn’t find it something to worry about generally. But it’s hard not to notice when ‘Antonio’ is basically holding an imaginary blinking neon sign that says ‘I AM LYING’ with accompanying metaphorical Morse code with the same message.

He swears he’s heard that name before though.

“Oh. Er- he’s never um, talked about you?” he says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Very old friends. Haven’t um- talked in a while.” ‘Antonio’ waves a hand awkwardly. And casting consistent looks towards the elevator.

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway! I’m uh- I’ll be going now. Visits over stuff to do y’know.” He’s already walking away as he says it, backing up for a moment and casting a quick wave before trotting away down the hall.

“Oh, y-yeah. Sure, bye?” Martin waves- though ‘Antonio’ isn’t looking. Watching as he basically runs down the hall.

“Bye!” ‘Antonio’ throws over his shoulder as he turns the corner to the elevators.

Well then.

“Huh.”

That’s not how he thought this visit was going to start.

He pauses for a moment. He’d been working off of something of a momentum. Check in with the nurse, make his speech. And be ready to say his goodbyes. But that... whatever just happened. Well, it threw him off.

He sighs.

It doesn’t matter. Weirdo visiting Jon. Seems about right, actually. If he thinks about it. Probably left a statement somewhere too, just to complete the weird weird picture.

The word ‘weird’ is starting to sound less like the a word the more he thinks about it.

He pushes the door to the hospital room open, he knows he’s imagining it. But the air feels heavier. The dread of the situation. The finality. Jon is still there, unmoving in his hospital bed. There's several machines tucked into the corner, they’d unhooked him from everything after the first month when it became clear that this is simply his state of being. That’s also about the time the nurses started telling him Jon probably wasn’t waking up.

He’s not going to wake up. Martin knows he’s not going to wake up. He’s been fooling himself for so long but now with the flesh attack he needs to do something. Or at the very least stop feeling like he’s doing nothing. But being miserable isn’t a solution either. 

Maybe there is no solution. Maybe it’s just, problems. Stuff he can’t fix or deal with and just- has to let it follow him until he dies.

He shifts, and his ankle twinges.

He’d tripped. It’s so stupid, it wasn’t even the monsters. He’d just- fallen and ended up hiding in a side room while everyone else dealt with meaty things crawling out of the floorboards. Just sat and hid and did nothing.

He’s tired of doing nothing.

Jon snores, interrupting his train of thought.

Martin smiles, god he’d forgotten Jon did that. Those little snorting snores- he’d only heard them a few times, back at the institute. It had scared the hell out of him the first time he’d been living-

Wait.

What?

Martin blinks. And watches as Jon scrunches his nose, making a small irritated noise- and turns over.

What.

His head skips, rewinds. Plays what he just saw back. Jon is breathing, how long has he been breathing? Doesn’t matter, he’s breathing which means he’s alive but what-

That weird guy. “Antonio”

He’s gone, Martin knows he’s gone. But he checks anyway. Even running all the way to the elevators. But he’s gone.

And Jon...

Jon is alive.

The thought hits his brain, and then slips away like a wet fish. There’s no guarantees. This could be a fluke, this could be a trap. It might not even be Jon. Just... something that looks like him, and snores like him. And-

A nurse taps him on the shoulder. And he realizes he’s been staring at the elevators for, well, he doesn’t know how long. Long enough to catch several concerned glances from passers-by though.

“Are you alright sir?” She asks, politely. He recognizes her, he chatted with her once when visiting Jon. She’s nice. She does the check ups a lot of the time, one of the few who’ll actually do it.

“He’s alive.” He says flatly, instead of answering. Because he’s not sure what the answer to the question is anyway.

The doctors do tests, though not many. According to them he’s fine. Fit as a fiddle aside from some fatigue and a little confusion. Which clearly makes them uncomfortable. Which he understands. A man wakes up from a three-month coma like he’d just rolled out of bed on a Monday morning? It makes him uncomfortable too, he thinks.

Basira drops off a statement. ‘Just felt like I should’ she’d said when he asked why. And neither of them felt particularly good about that answer.

After the statement he’s fine, not even fatigued. He’s alive.

He keeps looking at Martin.

Martin isn’t sure why he doesn’t want to look back.

Maybe it’s because it still feels like a trap, all of a sudden he comes back with no- no fanfare no effort. Right as rain and just... there.

Nobody else wants to deal with him right now- not after he just pulled a Lazarus like that. Jon wants to go to the institute. But Martin isn’t having it. He just woke up from a three-month coma. He’s going home. And yes- his lease apparently expired before the unknowing, so he doesn’t have a place to stay. And yes the only person willing to give him a place to stay is Martin. And Martin... well, it’s Jon. and even if it wasn’t, in the wake of losing three months of his life- and a friend. Or someone who had been a friend at a point before this all went to hell. He wouldn’t leave him alone for anything.

Martin tries to force himself to come to terms with it as they both climb into his car- this is what he wanted. He should be overjoyed. But it feels... it feels like if he looks at Jon for too long he’ll just... disappear. Or stop breathing again. Or stop being Jon.

“Good to see not too much has changed while I was gone.” Jon says wryly as he wrestles with the seatbelt. Which squeaks as he struggles to pull it out far enough to actually fasten it.

Martin just hums in response. Not trusting his voice not to betray whatever it is he’s feeling right now.

The drive to his flat is mostly quiet, aside from a few awkward attempts at conversation from Jon that all fall miserably flat. Eventually he gives up, and the rest of the drive is spent in silence. 

It’s not too far from the hospital to his flat. So before he knows it he’s leading Jon up the steps to his home.

It’s not much, he knows. Can’t afford anything truly fancy when carrying medical bills around. But it’s nice, homey. He hopes.

“Home sweet home.” He says, dropping his keys on the table by the door and hoping he sounds cheery. Because he doesn’t know what else to be right now. He’s figured out what emotion he’s feeling, though he’s not sure it counts as an emotion honestly.

Numb. 

Stupid, isn’t it? 

“The bathrooms down the hall- I think your stuff’s all in storage at the moment,” his voice wobbles at that, he swallows “so we’ll have to go get that soon. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge-” He’s stopped by a hand on his wrist. Familiar, too-thin, and cool.

“Martin.” Jon says. “Did I... did I do something to upset you?” It’s a question, small and helpless. Martin just wants to brush it off, he’s fine. He just needs time-

“You died, Jon.” He says instead. The words coming out unbidden.

“I- I came back.” He tightens his grip on Martins wrist for a moment before loosening  “In one piece even. I believe that was a part of our agreement” There’s a note of teasing in that last part, Martin wishes it was funny.

“I said come back safe Jon, not ‘come back from the dead’” Jon's hand drops from his wrist.

“Do you not... Are you not glad I’m back?” He sounds- sad. Of course he sounds sad Martin basically just said he wished he'd died.

“Of course I’m glad your back, I just-”

“Then what’s wrong?” The words are just- they’re just words. But Martin feels something pull in his chest.

Martin looks at Jon for the first time since the hospital.

“I’m scared, Jon! I You were dead for three months, Y-you didn’t even have a heartbeat and I-” He brings a hand upland runs it through his hair, Jon doesn’t need to hear this. He should be resting not listening to Martin dump his issues like this- “you were dead and I was the only one left. A-and yeah you came back, but- god what even is this! You’re just, fine. A-and I’m- I don’t want you to not be fine but I- I can’t even prove to myself that you’re real and not- I-I don’t-” He forces himself to stop. clamping his jaw shut around the words that suddenly feel like they’re pushing at the back of his throat like bile. Jon stares back at him, eyes wide and confused and hurt. He’s disheveled and still wearing the pajamas Martin had brought for him in the first week. Small and tired and maybe even real. He looks at Jon until he can’t because his vision begins to blur and his eyes begin to burn.

“Martin, I- I’m- I’m sorry I-” Jon's blurry form moves, and Martin shuts his eyes. Shaking his head. He should be the one apologizing, Jon didn’t need to hear that and he just- threw it at him.

“I’m-” Martin tries to apologize, but it comes out as little more than a croak. Cool hands cup his cheeks, and he opens his eyes. Jon's face is closer now, eyes scanning desperately over Martin's face.

“I- I’m not- I don’t know what I am but I’m- I-I’m me. I-I promise, I don’t know how to prove it to you but I-” Jon starts, and Martin can see his lips move to form the words-

Jon is here, he’s alive. He’s awake. His hands are on Martin's cheeks and he’s running his thumb through the tear tracks, fumbling over awkward reassurances. and looking so, so earnest. Hell, he made a joke about a conversation nobody else heard. Something just between the two of them, nobody else. And to fear entities, maybe that doesn’t matter. But for now, with Jon so close and acting so perfectly imperfectly Jon. Martin can let- no. Make himself believe. Jon’s not dead, it’s not a trap. Not right now, not yet. Just for right now, Martin isn’t alone anymore.

It doesn’t take much to lean forward, pressing their lips together. Jon makes a small, cut-off sound of surprise before melting into it, letting a hand move to the back of Martin's hair and the other fall to his shoulder. Martin's arms wrapping around Jon's waist.

Eventually they have to part for air. Martin doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel Jon's breath on his face, and his hand in his hair and it’s all just another reminder he’s alive. And so wonderfully real.

He feels Jon move after a moment, using the hand he’s left on the back of Martin's head to guide him down. Pressing now-warm lips to the wet patches on his cheeks. Martin tries to laugh, he’s not sure why. It all just seems a little absurd all of a sudden. but it comes out as sort of a wet hiccup. Prompting Jon to tilt his head, and lock their lips together again.

Martin doesn’t know how long they stand in his entryway, trading kisses and just... being in each other's arms. But it’s long enough he’s run out of tears for Jon to try to kiss away, and the strange wired feeling has faded. Leaving him tired and heavy and in desperate need of a lie-down.

He pulls back, though not far. He can still feel Jon's lips against his as he speaks.

“Please don’t die again.” He says softly.

Jon sighs, pressing a small, chaste kiss against his lips.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and Martin can feel the words as Jon's mouth brushes his as much as he hears them. And then he kisses Martin again, like he’s trying to seal the words there with his lips.

And, Martin supposes that promise was enough last time. It might be more than enough for him now.

[royalcalum]

Must Love Dogs

Featuring: Calum x reader

Warnings: language, mentions of being catfished I guess... it’s just straight up fluff tbh

Summary: As an up-and-coming Twitch streamer, you’re used to befriending people online. When you start getting cozy enough with one fan for them to ask for a ride from the airport, you find out who you’ve really been talking to for six months.

Author’s Note: I’m going to try to start rewriting some old fics (mainly Calum tbh) to make them more realistic (lol as if this is realistic) and better in general so this is a rewrite of “blurb request lol 4/4 where you're whole relationship has been on the internet like you met on twitter or something and you finally meet at the airport after like five months idk this would be really cute and it's like my dream :----(“ Not beta’d

It started as an innocent fan and creator friendship. You’d been streaming on twitch for a while and had gained a decent sized following, averaging about 500 viewers per stream. Needless to say, your comments section was a little difficult to keep up with. But even with the quick scrolling of new comments with each statement you made, you noticed one name in particular whose comments were always funny or sweet instead of crude and vulgar, like some of those your mods were frequently deleting.

When that same username followed you on Twitter not long after you took notice of them, you were quick to follow back. You’d followed a few of your “fans” before, so it wasn’t unusual. Hell, it wasn’t even odd for you to DM back and forth with some of your followers. What was out of character was becoming attached to one of those fans.

All you knew was his first name (Calum), his age (24), and his location (LA) before you started talking regularly. He had asked for your number at one point, but was understanding when you said you don’t give out that kind of information. For you, it was a relief to finally talk to a man who not only enjoyed your streams, but didn’t make you feel objectified and demeaned. For him, it was a relief to finally meet someone who liked him instead of his name or money.

Communicating with him grew difficult when he flew to Australia to visit family. The time difference still gave you time to DM every day, but staying up late wasn’t quite the same when it was just afternoon for him. You’d already spent five months talking to him and as much as you hated admitting it, you had started to care for this mystery man despite never seeing his face. That never stopped you before (Corpse, anyone?), but for all you knew, “Calum, 24, California” was actually “Craig, 42, Alabama.”

When it came time for him to fly back to LA, you were surprised when he asked if you wanted to meet up when he got back. Like, right when he got back. As in “my friend can’t pick me up and I don’t want to ask you of all people to suffer through LAX traffic so I can just get an Uber if I need to but it’d also be nice to finally meet if you could give me a ride from the airport,” back.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t apprehensive. He was technically still a stranger you met on the internet and you couldn’t guarantee he wasn’t going to overpower you, take your car, kidnap you, and murder you somewhere in the desert. But you took precautions and told your roommate and a couple other friends where you would be and when to expect you back. If things went well and you spent more time with Calum, you’d call them and tell them, no texting.

Two days later, you stood next to your car parked outside the baggage claim for his airline. You didn’t even know who to look for, but he knew what you looked like — obviously, since you met through your twitch stream.

As people started to flood out of the airport doors, you started to wonder if you had been duped. Would this be a story worthy of Nev and Max? Being led to an airport just to be stood up? More and more people left the terminal while you took up space with your car. You’d get a ticket if you didn’t leave soon — your car may be running but you were technically parked in the loading zone — and your anxiety just continued to grow. He wouldn’t lead you on for nearly six months and stand you up at LAX, of all places… right?

Just as you looked down at your phone again to let your roommate know you might be back sooner than expected, you heard your name called from a few feet away.

And when you looked up, you were starstruck.

“You motherfucker,” you laughed as he got closer. “You knew I was a fan from my stream! That’s why you didn’t want to FaceTime!”

He laughed with you and didn’t hesitate to pull you into a hug.

“It was fun getting to just talk to you,” he defended. “I didn’t want you to unintentionally treat me differently just because you like my band.”

It felt nice to not only meet him, but feel him. He held you tight against his chest, his arms circling your shoulders with yours around his waist. And his thick sweater gave you a soft cushion to rest your head against as you just held each other. You pulled back from his hug but kept your hands on his ribcage, his resting on the sides of your neck as you asked, “How did you end up on my stream?”

“Someone tweeted a clip of you singing one of our songs from an older stream so I decided to check you out. I thought you were pretty and fun so I came back for more.”

For a second, you just stared up at him in multiple stages of shock. This was Calum Hood. From your favorite band. He just hugged you. And called you pretty. How could you handle this?!

But you could handle this. Because he was also the guy you had been talking to for the past six months. The guy you stayed up late talking to and who sent supportive messages when your chat got too aggressive and told you stories from his childhood. You knew him. You just had to let yourself realize the man you’d grown to care about personally was also the man you cared about as a fan.

Holy shit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sliding his hands down your neck and over your shoulders to your upper arms as he looked down at you with concern etched on his face.

“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, it’s just taking me a second to really let this all sink in,” you admitted.

“Yeah, now that we’re here, I’m realizing I probably should’ve broken the news in a less, uh, spontaneous way,” he laughed nervously, dropping his hands from you and shoving them in his pockets instead.

You should’ve just kept your mouth shut to keep those hands on you. Or if luck was on your side, he’d have his hands all over you later.

“I mean, I’m not mad about it,” you shrugged. “It’s just not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” he asked with a smirk.

You let out a sigh. “Honestly? I was kind of expecting to either be stood-up or meet a 42-year-old balding man from Alabama with a beer belly named Craig.”

“Wait… his beer belly is named Craig?”

“No, he is named Craig, you doof!” you laughed, gently shoving Calum’s arm.

“Well I’m sorry to disappoint,” he said with that same smirk on his lips.

“Oh believe me, I’m anything but disappointed,” you replied with a quirk of your own lips. “So, am I taking you to your place then?”

Calum started loading his luggage into the backseat of your car as he spoke to you. With only two checked bags and a carry-on, he didn’t have much, but clearly wouldn’t let you help as he hoisted everything in.

“Yes, please,” he said as he shut the car door. “As excited as I am to finally meet you, I really miss my dog.”

You gasped and immediately perked up. “Duke?!”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Do you want to meet him?”

“Oh my god, yes!” You ran around to the driver’s side and impatiently waited for Calum to get in and buckle his seatbelt before weaving through the waiting cars to get out of LAX. Fortunately, Calum got in on a late night flight so the traffic wasn’t as bad as you’ve seen before.

“I feel like you’re more excited to meet my dog than you are to meet me,” Calum pouted from the passenger’s seat.

“As excited as I am to finally meet you,” you started with a direct quote, “I really love dogs.”

[my-one-true-l]

Masquerade

Rated G

One shot written for @deathnotetober [Day 28, L]

Summary: As a favor to Watari, L takes on a case he has no interest in and finds himself spending his birthday at a masquerade in order to meet the culprit. 

“Watari, is this really necessary?”

Watari held the black suit coat up behind L, allowing him to slip into it easily.  

“Since we’re shorthanded, you going yourself is the only viable option, so you must blend in my boy. If you wore your usual attire, they will laugh you right off the property and we don’t want that now do we?” Stepping in front of him, Watari smoothed the lapels before securing the top button. “Now don’t you cut a fine figure!”

“If you say so.” L caught his reflection in the mirror and sighed. “The things I do for you.”

“You’re technically doing it as a favor to Roger, but I do appreciate you helping him. That ring has been in his family for generations.”

“Then perhaps his niece should have been more careful with it.”

“It wasn’t her intent to leave it behind at her pottery class, she just…didn’t think of it.” Watari ran his hand over L’s hair, the unruly locks refusing to relent to his arranging. “Now remember to be polite when you locate the young woman that found the ring.”

“You don’t have to remind me how to behave in public, I’m not a child and don’t you mean the young woman who stole the ring?”

“She didn’t steal the ring, she just didn’t turn it in when she found it. She was more than willing to give it back when you hunted her down and contacted her about it.”

“A task far beneath my abilities. I do have my pride, but I suppose I can write her off as an inferior jewel thief and leave it at that.”

“She’s far from a thief. I say she falls in a grey area and you of all people should understand that position?”

“When I fall into the grey, it’s for the purpose of justice, not to keep something that is clearly more than a forgotten trinket.”

“L, she agreed to return it. She isn’t a criminal, please don’t treat her as such.” He smiled at the detective’s aggravation, stifling a laugh as he watched him fidget in the uncomfortable clothing. “The transaction will take place on the balcony, 10 pm. Since you’re not privy to what the ring looks like, be sure to check the engraving on the inside so you know it’s the correct one.”

“Yes, I am aware of the parameters around the meeting, but I still don’t know why you agreed to such a peculiar location.”

“She’s attending the party anyway and felt more comfortable being surrounded by acquaintances. You are nothing more than a stranger, one that tracked her down and demanded you return the ring. You can’t blame her.”

“No, I suppose not.” L turned his eyes towards his handler. “But if I’m to waste my birthday doing this, please have cake waiting when I return.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Watari chuckled warmly. “Oh, and L…don’t forget your mask. It is a masquerade after all.”

“Of course it is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

L leaned against the balcony, the autumnal evening washed in moonlight. Music from the ballroom drifted on the night air, his thoughts running through his mind in time to the melody.

What if she doesn’t show? In fact, I gave her no incentive to. No mention of a reward, no threat if she didn’t come. Other than knowing where she lives, what leverage do I have? I suppose I could have Wedy break in and search her dwelling when she isn’t home, but there is no guarantee she would even keep the ring there.

“The moon’s lovely tonight.”

The gentle words took him away from his thoughts. He never heard her approach, lost in his own preoccupations.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Quite.”

“Fitting for an occasion like this I guess, or perhaps a little too on the nose, being Halloween and all.”

He wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but Watari’s voice echoed in his ears, reminding him to be polite. “I admit this isn’t my forte. Dressing in one’s finest and interacting with those that are barely acquaintances is not something I would consider entertaining.”

“Me neither. Truth be told, I came here tonight out of obligation, though I did enjoy the excuse to dress up. There are not many occasions when you can wear something like this.” Gathering the layers of black satin in her hands, she fanned it out, crossing one foot behind the other, bending into a playful curtsy towards the mysterious stranger.

Her eyes sparkled through the plain black mask tied securely with a velvet bow, concealing her assumed soft features. He smirked at her antics, wondering if her playfulness came from the freedom of anonymity the mask afforded her or if it was just her personality.

It was then the moonlight reflected off of the gaudy, jewel-encrusted ring she wore on her index finger and it became all too obvious. This was the young woman he was sent here to meet and he felt foolish for not realizing it sooner.

“That’s an interesting ring. May I see it?”

“Of course.” Not removing the ring from her finger, she extended her hand to him and he took it cautiously. “I found it. I’d never seen anything like it before, it just seemed magical with all the gems and the ornate shape of the setting. If it had been mine, I would never have been so careless, but I suppose one person’s impossible is someone else’s taken for granted.” She gazed at it affectionately.

Watari was right. This is no thief, just someone that found something that caught her eye and wanted to keep it. Even if it wasn’t the correct action to take, but who hasn’t given in to such whims now and then…and Roger’s niece was careless with it.

“It’s quite unique indeed.” He commented, gently dropping her hand from his hold. “Aren’t you concerned that the owner will want it back though?”

“It’s you isn’t it? The person that I’m supposed to meet to give the ring back to? I should have realized…” Her eyes saddened, even the mask couldn’t hide that fact. She slid the ring from her finger and held it out to him. “Here you go. Tell your friend I’m sorry.

L hesitated before he spoke. “I assure you I have no idea as to what you’re referring.”

“You don’t?”

Maybe it was the fact that Roger’s niece had always been careless, taking her good fortune for granted or perhaps it was the way the young woman spoke of the hideous ring with such affection, but either way, it didn’t matter. A rare circumstance has occurred. Something had caused L to soften towards the young woman. “No, please put it back on your finger.”

“It’s alright. Take it. It’s what we agreed to on the phone and a promise is a promise. Check the engraving. It’s the same ring you’re looking for.” Taking his hand, she placed the ring in his palm and closed his fingers tightly around it. “It isn’t mine. I shouldn’t have taken it in the first place, but thank you for being kind to me.”

“On behalf of the family that I represent, thank you.”

“They’re not pressing charges are they?”  A hint of fear trembled in her voice.

“Of course not. They simply wanted it returned.”

“Ok. Good.” With a sigh of relief, she smiled softly at him. “Well, thank you…I don’t think you ever told me your name.”

“Correct. I didn’t.” He turned away from her, leaving her alone on the moonlit balcony. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“How did it go my boy?” Watari glanced at L in the rearview mirror.

“Fine.” L grumbled the simple reply.

“You don’t seem too pleased?”

“It was a simple task and an unremarkable case, if it can even be considered such.” Leaving his shoes on the floor mat, L scrunched his legs to his chest and frowned as he stared out the window at the moonlit roadside. “Though I feel this one would have been better left unsolved.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

More than a month had passed since she returned the ring when there was a knock at her door. When she answered, there wasn’t a soul to be seen, but a plain brown box sat on her doorstep, no bigger than a child’s building block.

She picked up the small package, looking left, then right, and left one more time before ducking back into her home and shutting the door behind her.

She eagerly tore the paper from the tiny gift, carefully removing the lid with excited fingers. Inside was a ring, identical to the one she had given back to the strange man on the balcony, the only difference being the engraving on the inside of the band which were her initials and the date of the ball.

Scrawled on a scrap of paper tucked inside the box were the words… “I know you won’t take it for granted.”

[amazingdriverfics]

Hey sweetie, can I ask for a Kylo Ren imagine where the reader is dating him? He’s overprotective of her, and tries to keep her to where he could see her. When they were looking for someone to take a mission assignment, she volunteered. Kylo protests about it and it leads to them having a argument and says some hurtful words to her before she left. When the time came for her return, she never did. Kylo grew worried and decided to look for her. He spots the ship she took, now a wreckage site. He

Hey sweetie, can I ask for a Kylo Ren imagine where the reader is dating him? He’s overprotective of her, and tries to keep her to where he could see her. When they were looking for someone to take a mission assignment, she volunteered. Kylo protests about it and it leads to them having a argument and says some hurtful words to her before she left. When the time came for her return, she never did. Kylo grew worried and decided to look for her. He spots the ship she took, now a wreckage site. He saw it was on fire, he rushed towards it, seeing if she was trapped. But when he noticed that she was a few feet away, he rushed to her and saw she had been injured badly. Once the recovery starts, he’s there to take care of her.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this, I wrote it while listening to The Reason. Sending you tons of love, thank u for the request.

warnings: angst with happy ending, fluff, injury, implied sex. 

The Reason

Walking through the grey halls of the Finalizer rushing to the Intelligence room, you started to think of how much your life had changed since you got to know Kylo, at first the mere sight of him made you shiver, his imposing figure demanding respect and spreading fear into the bodies of everyone standing near him. That was until he noticed you. You were the best at Intelligence Department, you brought in a great amount of resistance members to the First Order and countless informations that guaranteed the success of this organization.

It was the end of your shift, you were walking as fast as you could to the mess hall dying to eat something, you had been hearing your stomach complaints for about two hours now, but you had decided to ignore em’ in order to finish what you were working on. It was a terrible decision, you were starving. And then, you crashed with a huge black figure, falling to the ground.

“Stars, what the fuck are you? A mountain?” you said trying to get back on your feet, cursing the giant in front of you of every bad name you could possibly think. When you managed to stand up and look to the man you crashed into, you frooze, your blood stopped pumping and your face lost all it’s color. “S-Supreme Leader, I’m so-so sorry, I didn’t see it was yo-you”, you whispered facing his terrifying mask.  

Great so this is how I’m going to die, starving after a work day at a corridor in this stupid ship 

“You clearly did not” the mechanic voice reverberated inside of your brain making you even more scared “Or you might have a death wish, I think you need to be taught a lesson”. 

Much to your surprise the night ended at his quarters, he taught you a lesson, but it was the most pleasurable lesson of your life.

That was the start of a series of encounters between you and the Supreme Leader, he would often take you to deserted meeting rooms, computer rooms and his own private quarters. He was an incredible and absolutely gorgeous man, but it was hard for him to open up, so it took about five months for your relationship with Ren to be more than just sexual, you fell for him fast and hard. 

Now everyone in the Finalizer knew you were Kylo’s girl. It was annoying sometimes, you weren’t able to make any new friends, they all feared your lover, and you were constantly being followed by some troopers, Kylo was very protective of you, that’s why you haven’t been outside the ship since you and him started to date. It’s not like you didn’t appreciate his concern, but you missed feeling the breeze making your hair move, the sensation of sun against your skin, the adrenaline of a mission, the high after being successful. However, every time you brought the topic on a conversation with him he quickly said no.  

You got to the  Intelligence Room still in your head, but it wasn’t long before your eyes met a red haired man, taking your thoughts elsewhere.

“General Hux, a pleasure to see you, sir” you said stopping at the door waiting for his command. 

“Thank you, L/N, I was just starting to tell you colleagues about a mission that will take place in Bespin, we need someone to infiltrate among locals and check an information about a Resistance recruiter working in the area” he said, with a monotonous voice and a certain mischief on his eyes. “I was hoping that you could take the job, you are the best at this after all and you haven’t been active in field for almost a year now”. 

“It’s a honor, sir. You can count on me”, excitement started to pump in your veins, you were thrilled, you loved to act as an undercover for the First Order the only problem would be to tell Kylo about it, you weren’t so sure he would understand, but this time you would stand your ground.

“I’m happy to hear that, L/N, we will be leaving at 0800 hours in the next cycle, see you at the hangar” he said making his way out of the room. “Yes, sir”, you answered doing your best to hide the excitement in your voice, but you were certain that you had failed.

Your anxiety increased with the passage of time, you barely touched your lunch and by the time you finished your shift you felt like you were going to die. You took the longest path to Kylo’s quarters, you knew he would feel your anxiety the moment you got closer to it, and you weren’t exactly looking forward to the conversation you were about to have. After a ten minute walk to his place you were finally standing outside the door, you typed the passcode with shaking hands.

“What’s wrong?” he said, the minute you walked in, getting out of the living room couch and making his way to you “Someone hurt you?”. You shook your head, tears of anxiety falling slowly down your face. “I w-was assigned on a field mission by Hux” you whispered cleaning your face with your hands. 

“I’ll tell him that it is not a option, don’t worry, I won’t let anyone put you at risk, love” he wrapped his arms around you “I missed you” he said into your hair. You shook your head once again, leaving his embrace “You don’t understand, Kylo. I want to go. Don’t get me wrong, I love every single moment I spend with you, but I really love what I do, I miss being undercover, I like the thrill of it, it makes me feel alive”

“That’s not up to discussion, you. are. not. going. End of story” he said with anger dripping from every word. “You are right, Kylo, this is not up to discussion, I am going, I was just letting you know, not asking for permission”, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy but you needed to be firm, to make him understand. 

“You are not going, Y/N, you are weak, you are not capable of it, you are going to fail and then you are going to get hurt. It’s that what you want?” he barked at your face, eyes filled with rage. Every single word was like a punch to your stomach. “You don’t mean this, Kylo, stop being a dick. You’re just scared”.

“Scared? You should be the one terrified, you’re a nobody in this Order, if anything happens to you, no one will remember you.” now the tears were streaming down your face, you couldn’t believe he said that, it seemed that you were back to the day that you bumped into his chest, he was a stranger to you once again.

“Well, if I’m a nobody to this Order, than I’m nothing to you, Supreme Leader” you didn’t wait for a reply, before he could hurt you again you were going back to your quarters, leaving him and his anger behind. As you turned around the hallway you could hear the sound of his lightsaber going through his furniture. 

Kylo overreacted, he knew it, but the thought of losing you killed him on the inside, you were the only good thing in his life, the reason that he got out of bed every morning, why he tried to be a decent person, and he blew his chance, his rage got the best of him. So he made a plan to win you back, Ren was standing at the hangar maskless with a basket full of your favorite things in one hand and with a speech in his head.

 A ship landed there, but it wasn’t the ship you went to Bespin with. He started to panic and make his way to the vehicle. The ramp lowered and there were a great amount of troopers with injuries and covered in dirt. The basket was quickly forgotten on the ground.

You were nowhere to be found, that’s when his eyes met Hux, he quickly made his way to the red haired man, now with dirty clothes and a purple eye. He caught the man by the throat. “Where is she?” Kylo gritted through his teeth. “The ship exploded, and she was nowhere to be found, Supreme Leader” he whispered, having trouble breathing. “Prepare my ship” Ren barked to his subordinates letting Hux fall to the ground “If she is dead, your head will be standing in my quarters walls by the next cycle”. 

His trip to Bespin was quick, his anxiety consumed every single atom of his body, he couldn’t lose you, you couldn’t die knowing that his last words to you were so cruel, he didn’t mean it, he knew you were very much capable of anything but he was so scared, he felt like the little boy he left in the past. When he got to the crash he almost emptied his stomach on the ground, the ship was destroyed, everything was on fire. Fighting against every feeling running through his body he tried to concentrate on finding your signature through the force, when he felt you he almost cried, relief coursed through him.

Your signature was there, it was a week one, which meant you were seriously injured. Without thinking Kylo made his way through the fire, and he saw you, lying on the ground with burns all over your small body, a few feet away from the crash. The following hours were a blur. He saved you and soon you two were back on the Finalizers hangar. He stayed with you in the med bay and threatened every single doctor encouraging them to save you.

 You had had serious burns and broken bones caused by the impact when you were thrown away by the explosion. When you woke up you were in so much pain that all you could do was scream, he held your hand and let you squeeze it as hard as you needed. The treatment was long and hard, Kylo wished that he could take away all of your pain, but even his force healing abilities weren’t developed enough to do that. So he stayed there, by your side, helping you eat, helping you shower, helping you take your medication, talking to you until you slept, holding you tenderly through your nightmares. After two months in the medical bay, you got permission to get back to his quarters, you still had daily appointments to check on your burns and physical therapy to attend.

Walking was still a challenge for you since you broke your pelvis so he carried you there, and covered you with love. Your fight was now long forgotten, he apologised when you were still in the med bay, and it didn’t take you long to forgive him, you could see in his eyes how much he loved you, and his actions didn’t fail to prove that you were right. Ever since the crash Kylo whispered how much he needed you and adored you every single night before you slept. A year after he saved your life Ren asked you to marry him and you didn’t think twice before saying yes.

@originalposter-96

[asherlockstudy]

I got into gmm fandom this year and I love these 2 old men extremely, and I recently read your discussions about Link's psyche and the ear biscuits commentary and I totally relate to you. I couldn't find anything that you wrote about the competition eb#255. I'm very interested in your thoughts on this particular episode since your ideas on their psychology really fascinates me. Will you please share?

First of all, thank you for your kind words!

The truth is I certainly have an opinion on the competition episode but I was hesitant to post anything about it because I wasn’t sure whether that would push any boundaries. Since you asked, I am going to tell you, but I would like to stress to any MB who will read this that this theory / analysis works through a Rhink perspective or at least the perspective of an intense friendship, which I think their friendship is anyway, so you need to be in that mindset from the beginning. This is obviously my personal take on their conversation; the way the puzzle pieces fit inside my mind if you will. It can be as far from the truth as Rhink itself in general. Technically it can be read out of the Rhink lens but IMO it makes more sense this way, so I’m gonna tag this only as #rhink. 

Now let’s actually go to the topic in question. Rhett and Link are both competitive but in different ways and for different reasons and to different targets.

Rhett is naturally competitive. Or maybe not naturally per se, as I think this competitiveness was planted inside him by his father. His father expected him to be good at everything, an expectation that Rhett then internalized and simply never escaped from. His competitiveness might be maximized by feelings of insecurity and self-consciousness. If Rhett cares so much what people think of him, it’s only natural that he wants to ensure that people will think highly of him and that requires him to be good, look good and always perform well. The more Rhett loves and is loved by a person, he’s sooomewhat more relaxed in revealing his weaknesses. Rhett is always competitive but he’s less competitive with his close friends and family than with strangers. Rhett would take 100 defeats from Link than one from any other youtuber. And like he said, Rhett doesn’t mind losing to his sons because he wants them to do well and because, duh, they are McLaughlins and they are proof success still runs in HIS family.

Link is insecure too but handled it for the most part of his life in a completely different way. I have the impression that until 5-6 years ago Link had resigned and lived defeated inside his insecurity. His own insecurity stems from lack of self-worth, which probably stems from feelings of abandonness in his childhood. Let alone that if there’s any truth to the queer!Link theory, he also felt socially and religiously alienated from everyone around him, most importantly Rhett, and all this suffered in silence. This is why his insecurity is associated mostly with the people close to him and not strangers. Link doesn’t care much if random people think poorly of him which is why he’s not self-conscious and can talk to people. But Link is hurt a lot if a person he loves a lot doubts him or mocks him or simply doesn’t  regard him very highly. He has a primal fear of getting taken in, abandoned or betrayed. He’s grown to become a suspicious person, often entertaining the worse case scenario, fearing that a person he loves could actually not love or respect him back as sincerely. As an example, from everything they’ve said I have the impression Link adored Rhett when they were children. He looked up to him and Rhett was some sort of role model for him. Link didn’t have many other friends and certainly not others like Rhett and the rest of his time he spent mostly alone in his home. Meanwhile, Rhett had more variety in his life: he had other friends, including Ben whom he admired so much, hobbies and an obsession with girls. So it’s safe to assume that Link was more “there” for Rhett than Rhett was “there” for him, without that meaning IN ANY WAY that Rhett didn’t love him as much. But Link couldn’t know that - and when Rhett was busying himself with something else, his feelings of abandonness and lack of self-worth intensified.

I think Link never escaped from these feelings.There were some GMM episodes where Link has implied that he often feels Rhett takes him for granted and shouldn’t. In short, Link loathes that he feels uncertain in his friendship with Rhett whereas Rhett feels perfectly sure in it. This, especially at a point 4-5 years ago, when Link started changing stylistically and in the way he carried himself (we can only guess why), it was also the time Link’s efforts to fight that feeling of defeat especially around Rhett reached their peak.

I trust Rhett’s input in this. I don’t doubt Rhett senses competitiveness coming from Link’s side. What Rhett might not understand is that Link is not globally competitive but mostly towards certain people, including him, first and foremost.  Things such as vanity, overt enthusiasm when winning, “OOOOH HA-HA-HA-HA” when Rhett got insulted, “I prefer time with my wife”, “I can’t be always there for you”, “I have other friends beside you Rhett” are some random examples of this overcompensation that is the unconventional competitiveness Link feels against Rhett. “Against” is a strong word though because I believe Link doesn’t do any of this to bring Rhett down but rather to go up and be on the same level as him. NOTE: I don’t believe Link is in any way lower, I believe Link fears this is the case. Link dreams of an entirely equal and balanced relationship between them, not because it isn’t so, but because he has invested so much in Rhett that he constantly fears everything he can lose. He wants Rhett to look up to him, to admire him so that he can keep him, and moreover keep him eternally interested and intrigued. In short, he wants Rhett to feel the way he feels about him and he thinks this cannot be as long as Rhett takes him for granted or doesn’t take his skills, mind, virtues and looks seriously. Furthermore, his tendencies to take most of the control in their job and be a perfectionist could also be connected to all that and increase his anxiety associated with the stability of their job.

The problem is that Rhett perhaps doesn’t understand the motive behind Link’s behaviour and interprets it as plain old competitiveness. He’s however, as I felt in the podcast, troubled by it being targeted to him. A remark like “I have other good friends too” is something that makes Link feel more independent from Rhett but Rhett could occasionally get hurt and think “Okay but why does he have to say this to me?”.

This unavoidably is channeled in their business too. A duo of internet celebrities? That’s like the recipe of guaranteed failure! Even non-competitive people have destroyed their businesses and friendships this way. What Rhett and Link have managed so far is world record. Part of their success is how open they are to each other about how they feel. In fact, it was very healthy of Rhett to confess openly that he has some level of “mild envy” about Link doing well in various aspects of the show. This means that Rhett sat down when he experienced these feelings, had a talk with himself and reached the conclusion that he was very happy Link was doing well. He just felt he had to push himself to be as good - not better -  so that he would not feel bad about himself contributing in this show, in this business. And in short, Rhett feels he need to compete with Link in being as likable to the viewers. I consider this totally understandable.

Link was reluctant to speak openly throughout the whole episode. And that was because his answer was not that easy. From everything he said, I was positively surprised that it seemed Link has it all laid out very clearly in his mind - how he acts and why. He just wasn’t willing to explain, particularly in public. This becomes clear towards the end of the podcast - when Rhett is essentially about to lose his mind because Link denies everything, Link starts to say something only to stop and decide he shouldn’t do it eventually. More importantly, Link adds in the end that Rhett made the big mistake to base his understanding of Link’s competitiveness in minor conventional things such as games and job performance. Link said that Rhett was stripping their relationship off of way too many parameters that he wasn’t taking into consideration to reach a valid conclusion. So indeed Link’s competitiveness is a very personal topic with deep roots and IS connected mostly (if not exclusively) to his relationship with Rhett. Link doesn’t want to be better than Rhett either - he wants to be as good as Rhett and be liked by the viewers. Not for the viewers’ sake but in order to rub it in Rhett’s face later. Again, he doesn’t want to hurt Rhett - this is likely a desire for guaranteed continuous attention from Rhett, whatever it takes.

Furthermore, Link always makes sure to draw attention from the audience as much as Rhett, if not more, (which could be fundamentally what Rhett interprets as competitiveness and doesn’t know how to regulate) which is Link’s way to ensure he’s not taken for Rhett’s sidekick (in his own words) by either the viewers or Rhett himself, because inside Link’s full of concerns mind this hits a little too close to home.

Now, if there’s any truth to Rhink, intensify this by 10x.

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

Cold Eyes (Dark Rey x Reader) [Part 14]

Summary: You confront Rey after the meeting ending in her arms again but wake up to some bad news and a prisoner.

Words: 2,778

A/N: Things go south from here because we're reaching the end of the series, just a few chapters left. Hope you like it!!

Time seemed to pass slowly while you waited for Rey in her chambers, with nothing more to look at than the big window you stared at the shining stars that adorned the vast and black sky, for a moment you feared that much darkness could even exist, the more you glanced at it the more you felt like if you were drowning.

Drowning on your thoughts and doubts. Thinking about the First Order’s breakthrough over the galaxy, the memory of the holograms fresh in your mind and how many sistem they had already taken, not to mention the cannons in the planets. Hux's words were also stuck in your head, he made sure of that.

Thinking about the brief talk with Finn and your friends in the Resistance, how many of them would be there? not much surely but you hoped they were staying safe, praying the First Order wouldn’t find them.

Thinking about Rey.

About her actions in the past and present, the atrocities she had done and she was still doing, killing people somewhere in the galaxy so she could rule upon them. About the truly monster she had become.

You didn’t realized she was back until you heard her voice calling your name and felt her hand laying on your shoulder.

“How was the meeting?” she asked with a bit of a smile on her face that faded away as soon as you spoke.

“Did you know about the cannons?” you murmured, your gaze focused on the sky.

“Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew it was going to push you further away from me” she sighed “It was the very last thing I wanted, Y/N” you kept silent “It was Hux’s idea. After Endor he thought it would be helpful to have more options…” Rey explained.

“In case something happen to the fleet, I heard that” you interrupted her finally turning to gaze into her confused eyes.”What I don’t understand is why?” you begged for answers “Why?”

“Control” she said serious “A guarantee they will do as we say and they won’t dare to rebel.”

“And what if they do? You’re gonna just blow the whole planet, Rey?” you huffed.

“No.” she said “No, I can’t do that. Not again, not after what I did to our planets” she told you and you saw her eyes filling with worry, with pain, with regret. “That’s something I just can’t do anymore.”

You watched every detail of her face for a moment. This wasn't her plan, the whole cannon thing was Hux's idea. Her words calming you down a little bit but her eyes, soft and sincere let you trust in her again.

Nodding you murmured a little "Okay"

"Is there something else, Y/N?" She asked concerned. "I sense you a bit tense" There was a lot going on inside your head but it wasn't something you could discuss with her, you trusted her more than before but still not enough.

"No, just that." You told her. "I didn't expect something like that and taking your place on the meeting today was a lot, I don't know how you do it" you said finally in a more relaxed tone, even smiling a little.

"Yeah, it can be too much sometimes" she added with a smile and you shared a small laugh with her, but as much as you tried the images of the holograms kept coming back to your mind, the whole day had been a lot to take, you just wanted to take all of those thoughts out of your head somehow.

"Y/N" she murmured getting back your attention "Are you okay?"

"Yeah" you told her "I just, can't stop thinking. Wish there was a way to just shut my mind " you confessed chuckling.

"Well, I can help you with that" she told you with an irresistible smirk before she leaned to capture your lips, you melted under her touch when she wrapped her arms around you. The effect she had on you was bigger than you would like to admit but feeling her close to you pulled you into a state of calm, so you allowed her to work her magic on you.

It didn’t take long for you to find yourself lost in a trance lying beneath her on the soft mattress, panting and softly moaning as her gentle hands roamed over your body, discovering and memorizing every single spot that made you shiver in pleasure. Felt good to feel her again, her warmth, her touch, the feeling of her lips pressing against your skin.

The world seemed to vanish with every stroke and every caress, every passionate kiss and hungry gaze, the way her fingers always found the right way to your most delicate spots sending new weaves of pure pleasure taking you closer and closer to your high until the only thing you could think of was her and nothing more than her.

Later that night you cuddled up to her, watching the way her chest slowly rose and fell calmly on her sleep, you observed her relaxed face inches away from yours, she looked younger when she was like this even a bit defenseless, not the cold blooded woman everyone thought she was, but the girl from Jakku who waited endless years for her family.

You sensed peace coming from her as she was lost in her dreams, you sensed calm and light. For all the stars, you sensed light in her, you felt the light side of the Force trying to bring her back, fighting against the shadows a bright light shined inside her. You smiled for a moment thinking of what a life could be with Rey, imagined a house in a place surrounded with flowers for her to smell, a quiet place to meditate together and more nights like this. You pictured her enjoying the wind on her hair loose over her shoulders, smiling when she noticed your eyes on her. You hoped someday, after all this war, all this fight this dream could come true but for now you let yourself fall into a deep sleep with the image of what she could be on your mind.

******

The bed was cold when still sleepy you searched for Rey beside you, her comforting warmth was gone and instead you found yourself alone in the big bed. It was early, earlier than usual, even for a training day but Rey were nowhere to be seen. “Another mission” you thought as you tried your best to wake completely up, it was not a strange thing Rey tended to travel a lot to conquer new planets, sometimes she would be gone for weeks but she usually said something, anything.

Reluctantly you left the comfort of your bed and searched for some new clean clothes, dark clothes always matching the side of the force of your master.

You thought for a moment on Finn, was he going to communicate with you today too?.

The hatch of your room opened with ease and a tall man appeared in the doorway. You recognized his posture the second you saw it, his suspicious stare and overconfident grin.

“Supreme Leader requires your presence in the containment area.” General Hux said indifferent. The cells? Why did she want you on the cells?

“Fine, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” you answered with the same cold tone in your voice, it didn’t please you to having him anywhere near you, you didn’t trust him before, you didn’t like him and now after all he said to you you liked him much less.

“Now.” he said with the same tone he used to give orders to his troopers. “She requires you now.”

You stared angrily at him for a moment before following him outside your quarters, you could see he enjoyed giving you orders as there was a very tiny but satisfied grin on his face the whole time you walked slightly behind him in silence.

Ignoring his presence you thought about why the cells and thought the worst, maybe she found out about your talk with Finn, you feared she would have figured it out.

You were a bit glad when you arrived to her side, smiled with the sight of you and even briefly kissed. You felt relieved though the feeling didn’t last enough.

There was a open cell and inside it man on his knees, hands tied on his back observing every move you made.

“Brandon?” you said surprised as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

“So that’s his name” Rey said “I don’t think i ever got to meet him in my time with the Resistance” she smirked.

“What- how?” you mumbled.

“There was a battle last night” Rey rushed to answer “Most of them escaped but my troops captured him and brought him to me.” She said “Of course, I was… busy last night, so he had to wait until now” she spoke in a seductive way as she eyed you from head to toe making sure her guest heard and noticed every remark she made towards you.

But you were frozen next to her, your eyes focused on this man kneeling in front of you. He glanced at you with a stranger grin between angry and satisfied. This man, the one that made you leave the Resistance, the reason you were captured, a mean mouthy pilot that hated you, why did it had to be him?

“What you need of me, Rey?” you murmured finally looking at her.

“I’ve been trying to get information out of him, but he’s not easy to break” Rey said “Perhaps he would speak with a friend.”

“We’re not friends” you told her gazing at him. You weighed your options for a moment, she needed information and so you did if you wanted to help your real friends. If you found that information before her maybe you could do something but if she did… well, then it was the end of the Resistance.

"I'll try" you said serious "Give me a few minutes alone with him" you talked serious, confident of your words.

"Alone?" She said giving you an untrusting look "Are you sure?"

"I am" you told her before capturing her lips for a moment. She had a big smile when you pulled away, she trusted you, you felt it.

"Fine" she said "you have ten minutes" with a last gaze at the prisoner she walked down the hall, her black robes weaving behind her like a shadow as she got lost in the distance of the endless hallway.

You stepped inside the cell and closed the door. He kept silence the whole time just looking at you.

"Look, I know you hate me but we need to help each other right now" you told him "Just tell me something, whatever", you said.

Silence.

"She's gonna kill you if you're not useful" you warned him but still he didn't say a word which made your blood started boiling with anger. "Please, anything just talk to me okay? I'm trying to help" you said "Are you even listening?"

Then you finally heard his voice as he let go a sarcastic laugh that made you close your fist.

"I knew you were with her, I knew you were on her side" he said "I told them but nobody believe me" he chuckled he said before laughing again. "I wish Dameron could see you now or Finn always defending you. I wish they could see who you truly are, Y/N." He mocked "what would they said if they knew you were sleeping with her".

"That's none of your business" you said serious and tried to control yourself. "We're running out of time, Brandon. How are they?"

"Barely holding on thanks to your wicked girlfriend" he said "She just won't stop attacking us, many have died and where were you? Oh yes, probably fucking with her" he huffed.

"Where are they?" You said, you knew he was just teasing you that was just the way he was but still his words were somehow truth and every one of them hurted you.

"And you think I'm going to tell you?" He said “No, you’re just a traitor, did you really changed the rebellion for her? Just so you could get laid?”

“Enough!” you snapped tired of hearing his bullshit. “We're on the same side" you told him, exasperation rumbling in your voice "I don't hope you understand it but I want to save them, all of them in the Resistance and around the galaxy. You haven't seen the things I have and trust me there are more important things to worry about than who I sleep with, So please," you said moving closer to him until you were inches away from him in a threatening tone "tell me where are they."

He looked at you surprised as if he would never expect you to stand against him, there was also fear on his eyes. The cell’s door opened casting the shadow of the intruder over the small cell.

“Did he tell you something?” Rey asked.

“Nothing useful” you said “He’s a complete jerk, everything that comes out of his mouth his bullshit” you said serious yet furious already walking towards the exit of the small room. You felt useless again, he had the ability to annoy you incredibly fast, it was a combination of his sarcastic sentences, the way he knew where to hurt you with his words and that stupid smirk on his face.

His deep laugh rumbled across the room.

"Oh, poor General Organa she's gonna really be hurt when she finds out you're just another disappointment" he said smiling as more and more anger spreaded across your body. Those last words were enough to make you lose it.

Turning around you extended your arm using the Force to lift him off the ground.

“Shut up! I’ve had enough of you” you hissed “You treated me like garbage, you turned the whole Resistance against me forcing me to leave” as you spoke you felt the anger guiding your actions, slowly closing your hand causing him shortness of breath.

Rey smiled satisfied next you, she sensed your anger, your frustration and for the first time you were listening to her lessons: let your emotions guide you.

“Not only that, Y/N” Rey leaned to whisper close to your ear “He sold you to me”

“What the hell did you do?” you murmured “Explain yourself!” you demanded letting go just a bit of the pressure on his neck.

“I contacted her and gave her your coordinates after you left!” he bursted gasping for air. When you thought this man couldn’t be more hideous he came with this making you close your hand a bit more out of pain and anger.

“Kill him” Rey whispered on your ear as she rested her hands softly on your shoulders, encouraging you “You know he deserves to die, you want to kill him I feel it.”

Listening to her words you put more pressure around his neck slowly choking him with the Force. You felt the Force in you, darker than ever but stronger than you had ever felt before. It made you feel powerful, it felt good to have control over this twopenny man. Just a small move with your hand and he would be gone.

“Kill him, Y/N.” Rey whispered.

Brandon gasped for air and taking as much as he could he looked at you.

“You’re a monster” he barely managed to said “Just like her.”

A shiver ran down your spine as your hand opened and released him from your grip dropping to the ground with a loud thud. He gasped and coughed desperately.

“Oh, Y/N you were so close to know your truly potential” Rey said disappointed rising her own hand to end your job and in a few seconds Brandon’s lifeless body laid on the cold ground of the small cell.

Rey walked outside while you contemplated the body on the floor just moments ago you were going to kill, without a doubt, without flinching. It was wrong. The dark side of the Force was still telling you to do it. How could you let it happen?.

“Ready my ship” Rey ordered to a stormtrooper in the hallway. Confused you hurried to reach Rey.

“Where are you going?” you said walking by her side.

“The guy knew where’s the new Resistance’s base” she told you “I searched his mind while you were choking him, thanks by the way” she said “It’s time I put an end to the rebellion.”

Tagging: @cpt-bolter , @elvencantation , @jay-birf03 , @x-a-gay-disaster-x , @ridleysjazz , @hstoria , @iamafangirl-fightme , @leilei-draws , @hayley-the-comet , @snoot-snoot-toot , @1-800-depressedlesbian , @empresspalpatinee , @xgaygremlinx , @the-great-imagines-of-1812

(In case you want to be tagged for specific things or everything I write, just let me know)

[gunnerpalace]

(These asks were reordered from bottom-to-top to top-to-bottom for clarity.)

Alright, so the first thing I want to say in response to this is actually best summarized in the form of a song:

You are somebody that I don't know But you're takin' shots at me like it's Patrón And I'm just like, damn, it's 7 AM Say it in the street, that's a knock-out But you say it in a Tweet, that's a cop-out And I'm just like, "Hey, are you okay?"

And I ain't tryna mess with your self-expression But I've learned a lesson that stressin' and obsessin' 'bout somebody else is no fun And snakes and stones never broke my bones

So oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh You need to calm down, you're being too loud And I'm just like oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh (oh) You need to just stop Like can you just not step on my gown? You need to calm down

I would like you to seriously reread what you’ve written here (and copy-and-pasted to others) and tell me that it doesn’t come across as more than a little obsessive and psychotic. "This may seem like hate, but it's not," you said anonymously, before going on a rant to strangers on the internet whom you had nominated as the representatives of "you guys." Sure, okay, Heather.

Well, regardless, let’s go through this. First, you don't understand 685/686. I've been over this before several times, but I will go over this one final time, as simply as I can. That said, I can't guarantee that you will understand it when I do. I was unable to successfully tutor 1st graders how to do addition because my perspective was, "Either you understand it or you don't," and I don't have the background in math to make such a simple concept exciting. The same might be true of this, because there is no way to critically analyze these chapters more succinctly than this, and so you still might not get it.

The point of 685/686, thematically, is that absolutely no one got what they wanted.

Renji wanted to surpass Byakuya. He remains Byakuya's Lieutenant and has to settle for being under his sister (figuratively and probably literally too) who now also outranks him as a Captain.

Rukia wanted to reform Soul Society into a more humane institution that protects all souls. It is the same as it ever was, and if anything has doubled down on its practices by rebuilding the Soukyoku (on which it tried to kill her) a hundred times larger, and she is one of its main wardens.

Uryuu wanted anything but to be a doctor, ever since he watched his mom being autopsied by his dad. He is now a doctor, and all alone at that.

Chad promised his grandfather to never hurt people with his fists. He is now a boxer, doing exactly that for money.

Orihime wanted to go out and have several different exciting careers. She is instead a stay-at-home mom.

Ichigo wanted to save a "mountain full" of people, be Superman, leave Karakura, and be a Shinigami. He instead appears to run Isshin's clinic now.

So, yes, you are correct: Kubo chose that Ichigo wind up with Orihime. It is exceedingly clear, from the context, that this is absolutely not a good thing.

That point is further reemphasized by Yhwach’s threat to come kill Ichigo and everyone else when they are at their happiest. And when does he reappear?

When Ichigo saw Rukia again.

Not when Ichigo asked Orihime out. Not when they started dating, officially or unofficially. Not when they were married. Not when she gave birth to his son. Not when his son said his first words.

Not when anything happened with Orihime or Kazui, but when he saw Rukia again.

That is your “Kubo-sensei” telling you directly that the happiest moment in Ichigo’s life was just simply seeing Rukia again, and not anything involving Orihime in any capacity whatsoever.

All of that should tell you that Ichigo and Orihime’s relationship is not exactly the stuff legends are made out of, because them winding up together is explicitly portrayed as a downer ending. A bad ending. 

If you cared at all about the characters—if you cared at all about their desires, or their happiness—or if you cared at all that IchiHime was presented as even merely good, let alone destined or fated or whatever else, then you would be offended by this ending too. 

Because the ending is “Kubo-sensei” straight-up unequivocally telling you that IchiHime is bad and tragic. It is something that one must demonstrate “courage” in the face of. It requires stoicism. It is a bad ending, but that’s life. That’s what the ending means.

He did you dirty too. You just don’t want to see it, because you are so obsessed with the concept of “winning.” Well, this was mutually-assured destruction: everyone lost. Especially you.

Moving on: no, Kubo doesn’t really get attention or money from us. I’m not really sure where this idea comes from.

I’m not an expert on Japanese intellectual property rights and licensing, but I know enough about them in general to know that very little if any money goes to Kubo personally from ongoing Bleach merchandise sales. For example, KLab more than likely has a contract with Shueisha (representing Kubo, hence why they’re put together on BBS’s title card), TV Tokyo, Dentsu, and Pierrot, wherein they pay those entities a fixed amount to license Bleach per year or per contractual term. It’s not like Kubo is making money off of every orb purchase or every figurine sold or something. These things don’t work like that.

As for attention, he’s still hiding from social media (for reasons of his own, unrelated to the fandom), and the people who give him attention are... you. People like you. “True Bleach fans” who can’t stop treating all his shit like it’s solid gold. We have made it fairly clear we don’t need him or care what he thinks.

Regarding BBS, maybe you haven’t noticed, but the majority of the imagery they use is IchiRuki-focused. The last title screen was IchiRuki. The Guild button is IchiRuki. The Events button is IchiRuki. The Chronicle Quest button is IchiRuki. Here, I’ve helpfully highlighted this for you:

While they do occasionally toss IH a bone, the last January event also ended on an IR note despite the ridiculous crowing about it being IH. While I’m at it, even the current supposedly “IH” title screen is anything but.

It doesn’t take Michelangelo or Da Vinci to figure out the composition here is not terribly suggestive. While Rukia is indeed off to one side, the fact Uryuu, Zangetsu, and the title card are between Ichigo and Orihime (and they’re looking in different directions) makes it pretty evident that they’re not being visually associated together. It is at best a “general” title screen. Uryuu is showing more visual interest in Ichigo than Orihime is.

I’ll come back to “the anime” in a minute. Let’s talk about their “tag-team move.” Do you mean the one that ended like this?

This one that didn’t work whatsoever?

This one where Ichigo wasn’t concerned at all that Orihime might be dead or dying as she lay there on the ground?

This one where he absolutely gave into despair?

How romantic. Truly, what an excellent battle-couple they make. Their combat effectiveness and synergy is just astounding. I for one would love to see it animated.

(Let’s not forget that later, Orihime can’t repair Zangetsu without some nonsense shenanigans from Tsukishima either. Just like how her healing abilities are useless against any sufficiently strong residual reiatsu. Ah, but that would require reading the manga closely...)

Finally, on to the idea of the anime returning. Here’s the thing: news about a trailer also doesn’t really mean anything. Sure, it could be TYBW. Or it could be The Honey Dish Rhapsody. Or it could be a thousand other things. I neither know, nor particularly care, what it actually is, on top of my explanations as to why animating TYBW would be a dumb business decision.

Here’s why: even if it is a TYBW anime, it will have to be an adaptation of TYBW. They will still have to follow the plot of TYBW. And TYBW was a pile of shit. It wasn’t just a pile of shit for IR, it was a pile of shit in general, and a pile of shit for IH in particular.

Perhaps you don’t recall that Orihime spends most of the arc off-panel, having been ditched in Hueco Mundo for most of it (chapters 500–586)?

Oh, but just think, you wouldn’t just get to see the Ichigo-Orihime “tag team” attack totally and utterly failing! You’d also get delights like:

Orihime and Chad utterly failing to believe in Ichigo! (Just like in the Xcution arc where it was demonstrated that Byakuya was a truer friend to Ichigo than either of them!)

Orihime being reduced to a pair of tits, each bigger than her own head!

Ichigo totally ignoring Orihime!

And who can forget the delight of Orihime selling out her dignity to dress slutty at Kisuke’s suggestion to try and get Ichigo’s attention, only for it to not work at all?

Yes, truly, TYBW would be a fantastic arc for IH that would surely win over the populace and convince everyone of the chemistry between these two characters!

Except it wouldn’t. Because they have no chemistry. And they didn’t. See, what’s really funny is that not only did TYBW not give you anything, but it was just following up on the Xcution arc not giving you anything.

Because ORIHIME VISION was played for laughs, just like say, Shuhei constantly is.

Because despite Chad and Orihime being about as important to Ichigo, he couldn’t even bother to say bye. 

Because he just didn’t have time to deal with her bullshit.

I could go on, but this post is already long enough.

You see, you’re real keen to dismiss "all the scene or poem shit or parallel or the hell else thing," but the truth is, that’s all there is to a manga. It is panels of art and text on a page. The rest is just in your head. And it is from those panels of art and text that animated scenes and spoken dialogue would be created. And the funny thing is... there are no IH moments in these arcs. They simply don’t exist.

So really, what you’re hoping and praying for is not just for TYBW to be adapted. Given your evident thirst, I doubt that the perhaps 5–10 minute epilogue of 685/686 at the end of 4–5 seasons would be enough for you. You’d need the animation team to decide to sprinkle in a whole lot of IH filler along the way too.

That didn’t work out so hot for the Xcution arc. How did that one end again? Oh, that’s right: they made up their own (better) ending for it. Are you really willing to bet your money on a TYBW anime going out of its way for IH, if you even get it? Or would you really be satisfied with those 5–10 minutes? Are you really so sure you’d even still get them?

Ultimately, I don’t care. You’re blocked. But, I will say this: in a way I almost kind of pity you. It seems really sad being a militant anonymous IH, desperately and eternally craving outside validation. You have so very little to cling to. It must be hard.

Good luck with that, Heather.

[hong-kong-art-man]

Money Loads The Gun, Joyce Cheng Pulls The Trigger—7 Money Notions On Earth 

Lydia Shum(沈殿霞) is the most famous and loved female comedian in the history of Hong Kong. She passed away in 2008 at the age of 62. Her 33-year-old daughter, a popular singer, Joyce Cheng(鄭欣宜) will inherit her huge properties under Lydia’s will when she turns 35 according to newspaper. ‘How will Joyce spend the money?’ became a spicy discussion topic on social media.

Discourse and critical thinking are essential. Let me try to share some useful views on money—some are mine and some belong to others.

(1)   Money is the car but you are the driver

Had it not been due to money, you would have been a mere window shopper in your life. Money is a car. It can take you to your destination but, like careful driving, the car must require your prudent control. Recklessness is the cause of a car crash. By the same token, careless spending may lead to you being in the red or even bankrupt. Buy what you need only. Only spend the money that you earned, not on any kind of overdraft facility from credit card, bank or money lender.

(2)   Never watch like a hawk the money that does not belong to you

Some girls want to marry a rich man so that she can marry his fortunes together. Some young men like to keep tabs on the parents’ wealth so that he can be bequeathed one day. Some purposefully hang around with rich friends in order for curry favour.

Unless you are a ghost, to live in the dark shadow of someone with an ulterior motive will surely make you nervous, and finally lose yourself.

Never lie, steal, cheat or beg for the sake of enriching your own pocket, as the money will be cursed with an ultimate terrible fate upon you.

(3)   The happiest and luckiest people are not those getting more, but those giving more

My generous friend said, “I am happy and lucky. I got enough for myself. There is no act better than my money, though not a lot, reaching down those in need and making them know that a stranger does care about them, like the way that I care about my family members. When the desperate people could feel the warm support, they realize that there is never a problem that can defeat sunrise.”

Another friend told me, “One great thing about donation is that the money which I gave away bring me back a more joyful meaning of it, and the money that I am keeping for myself somehow will become 10 times more! I am spiritually richer as a result.”

Money is like muck—not good unless it be spread.

 (4)   It takes 3 things for you to feel rich enough

I am not so divine as to say spiritual happiness brings more richness than money. I just want to opine that there is a quantitative definition of being rich, if you are already in possession of 3 things. You are then rich enough to call for a halt to your further hungry exploration for greater wealth. You should be contented when you have a flat for self-use, stable returns from some utility stocks which will give you a reliable pension and bank account savings which can help respond to urgent needs.

Before you retire, save; and after you save, retire! Real riches are the riches possessed inside, not just material luxuries. Those who appreciate your wisdom or character are the real friends.

(5)   Ideally, spend most of the money before you die

It is fantastic to be able to spend the money that you have earned to enjoy the remaining years. The tricky challenge is that we do not know when we will die and how much money will be needed for the remaining years.

Two modern concepts are very attractive: lifelong elderly housing and ‘reverse mortgage’. The former is a kind of guaranteed accommodation by a developer to a senior till he dies, in consideration of a huge upfront lump sum paid by him. A reverse mortgage is a loan, secured by the mortgage of one’s residential property, that will enable a senior to receive a guaranteed fixed monthly sum till he dies. The loan typically does not require monthly mortgage payments and all will be settled at the time of death.

(6)   Being ostentatious is a stupid way of spending money

Stupid or naive people are eager to put themselves on display. They spend money in a way that they beg to be looked at or they can look superior to others. More likely than not, these people have an inferiority complex and it causes them to over-compensate. They become overly concerned with how they appear to others and if this is taken to the extreme, it becomes a ‘neurosis’. It may also cause a person to be prone to behaviours intended merely to seek attention or compete with others.

(7)   Don’t lose the things that money cannot buy by making money to buy

Money cannot buy 10 values: happiness, time, a good family, wisdom, respect, class, character, common sense, integrity and love. There are many people who are enjoying the above are actually quite poor.

With his almighty judgments, God is fair and will not make the rich get all.

Money is always a good servant but a bad master. You should rule your money. Money should not rule, if not ruin, your life by making you run like a broker in the trading hall of a stock exchange, always greedy and fearful!

MLee

Joyce Cheng MV  acknowledgement-Neway Star Official Channel https://youtu.be/EbJhct_HTu8

Money Song (Sam Hui)  acknowledgement: lifeisgood181 https://youtu.be/GppvbS2jXpY

Money, Money, Money (Abba)  acknowledgement: ABBA https://youtu.be/ETxmCCsMoD0

Money makes the world go around  acknowledgement: zeitdiebemagazin https://youtu.be/PIAXG_QcQNU

She works hard for the money (Donna Summer)  acknowledgement: Donna Summer https://youtu.be/ci8uvhiU9LE

[marlahey]

Hi it’s the person “making assumptions”. Not making assumptions, but when I see someone being praised for using a condescending tone in relation to something that I, as a black woman, care deeply about I take issue. Didn’t say people were right to send hate, but his response was poor and misjudged. Just making my judgment off the behaviour I see as we all do. I do expect better from a white guy with power who demeans the legitimate concerns of those who were asking for more politely. Be kinder.

Hi anon, while I appreciate an important discourse, I am surprised that you’ve come to my blog when I see that the same message you seem to have copied and pasted into multiple asks in the skam tag and have gotten support for your claims. just so there’s no confusion, I’ve copied you entire message to Chris below. I’m also kind of riled up today so this will probably be stupidly long.

_Not true, when people with approx 400 followers post links on social media for protests it usually generates 3 more signatures. Imagine if someone like Maxence, with 500k followers, posted a link to a petition. His silence is privilege, his silence is choosing the side of the oppressor. He stands for no one but the white man if he can’t do the bare minimum. Coming from a black girl who works in charity, and knows first hand the impact that social media can have on protesting. Don’t make excuses.

(2) I’m just real tired of white people excusing themselves with “I was learning” (axel) when the black community don’t have a CHOICE. This is our reality, and you’re either with us or against us. Silence means you’ve chosen the side of the oppressor, to paraphrase Desmond Tutu. Not aiming this just at you, but all Skam fans defending their behaviour. It is bad. Don’t excuse white men for being lazy and ignorant.

(3) Maxence wants to scold people for not going to a protest? His tone is condescending, and shows more of his privilege and ignorance. Oftentimes it’s unsafe for PoC and queer people to go to protests. His safety is guaranteed, he’s a straight white man. The whole point of BLM is to fight for the safety of the black community globally, including France which is racist as fuck (Burka ban?!), so for a white guy to not realise why some people don’t go to protests is just ignorance. Educate him.

(4) it’s not shifting responsibility btw. People are allowed, especially minorities, to ask for white people to do their bit. People with large influence should do better, especially if their career is made on a show that supposedly address social problems through TV (mental health, islamophobia, homophobia etc.) you really can’t sit there and scold people for asking for better. Sometimes the language and approach is poor, but the point is often correct. Please think before you defend them.

no one is excusing maxence, especially when he did exactly what you asked: posted a link to a petition for all of his followers to see. that’s not silence. I’m east-asian and I have a masters degree in media studies and communication. while I agree social media can be a great tool, I would argue that posting on it is more of a ‘bare minimum’ than anything else; without anything actionable (petition signing, donating, self-educating, voting) then it’s just virtual signalling. it’s not concrete. since maxence was literally at a protest tonight, he seems to be on the right track with his support. he’s not against you.

the systemic and historical roots of racism around the world are awful. no one denies that, including in france. canada in particular is no exception. I agree that the pasty men of the world have more work to do. but to deny them the time and opportunity to educate themselves seems counterproductive. I’m not sure what sort of timeline you have that everyone must meet, but it takes a long time to learn new things, and longer to unlearn everything you thought you understood about an issue or yourself. I literally have cerebral palsy and I knew so little about disability studies and activism prior to taking a class on it. am I a bad cripple? I didn’t start coming out as bi till last year and don’t do much activism there yet either. am I lazy and ignorant?

more precisely, how are you or I supposed to dismantle racism or oppression without their help? in my opinion, your tone here is equally if not more condescending towards them, and chris. quite frankly, if I were maxence I would’ve probably said something very similar. I don’t know how it feels to be inundated with strangers telling you what to do, and how to feel, and how much of an asshole you were being because of something as ridiculous as instagram posts. 

I’m a former teacher of junior high and high school. that’s not education. it’s being a dick because the internet protects you from real repercussion. the person axel replied to wasn’t asking, they were demanding and being rude as hell about it. you’re free to dislike his or maxence’s tone as you will, anon. but you are assuming that maxence doesn’t understand why people may not attend protests. he’s not an idiot; all of s5 of skam fr was dedicated to disability awareness and representation. he literally plays a queer, mentally ill character. pretty sure he has basic human decency and knows not everyone can go marching into physical danger. to call him ignorant because he’s not writing an academic essay in his stories about the struggles of every minority group is a bit of a reach and frankly just mean. you also seem to assume he’s not done anything else because...what? he didn’t post about it?

I also have to disagree with the idea that  “sometimes the language and approach is poor, but the point is often correct.” you’re not going to get anyone onside by belittling and insulting them. that’s just a fact. just as you didn’t draw chris onside, you’d never bring maxence if he wasn’t already here, protesting. if you allow all these people on his socials that grace of a poor approach, why do you not give it to maxence in his response? because he’s right. copy/pastes and hashtags are not enough. there is more work to do and everyone’s capable of it. I truly respect your position and I empathize deeply with the enormous struggles that you and your community face daily. you’re free to expect whatever of maxence, but it doesn’t mean you’ll get it. he does not have to document and prove his allyship to anyone. if you’re unhappy with it, then I’d suggest stop following him or blocking his name. venting your anger at other people doesn’t affect him. 

your anger at him in general doesn’t really affect me either, despite this essay. you ordering me to do or feel things doesn’t seem kind. but I’ll never have the same stake in this fight as you do, so it’s not up to me to tell you what to do or how to feel. you came into my inbox expecting a response, so here’s mine. I hope that this renewed rage and energy around the world is the turning point of all of this. I’m sorry you even had to send any of these asks in the first place. 

[haberdashing]

did it hurt (when you fell from heaven)? (4/?)

The world is changing now, and many of its inhabitants are changing with it.

They are calling it a Transangelic Epidemic: the sudden and monstrous transformation of hundreds of good citizens.

Sasha James doesn’t think it’s anything she should be concerned about until, after spending the night with a coworker who’s more than just a coworker, her back begins to ache…

Inspired by Transangelic Exodus; should be readable without having read that first, but they are very much set within the same verse.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

on AO3

The Tube ride to work was longer starting from Tim’s place than Sasha was used to, and only some of that was time seeming to slow to a crawl as she planned and plotted and analyzed and worried and picked at her fingernails until they were half-torn to shreds, because if the strangers around her saw her as that weird woman picking at her fingernails then at least the strangers around her saw her as a woman and not just as an angel, and God, the Tube stations were already filling with fliers about missing people that had probably been transformed, probably been abducted by the authorities, probably would never return-

“Sash?”

And Tim was by Sasha’s side, his shoulder brushing against hers throughout this too-long ride, and Sasha couldn’t focus on much else when he was looking at her with that twinkle in his eyes.

“Sorry, just... God, this is taking forever, isn’t it?”

Tim squeezed her shoulder (gently, so gently, careful to avoid the spots that still ached, the spots now well-covered by one of her thicker jumpers even though there was nothing anyone else could see there just yet). “Hey, just think of it this way--you’ll only have to do this once.”

Sasha laughed, though her heart wasn’t entirely in it, her eyes flitting between Tim’s face and the flyers they passed by, the ads reminding good citizens to report suspected transformations immediately. “I hope you’re right about that one.”

“Course I am.” And he grinned at that, one of Tim’s trademark wide grins that would’ve looked a bit awkward on anyone else but looked just right on him, though his dark eyes still looked back at her with a bit less levity. “When have I ever been wrong before?”

“Do you want the list alphabetized, or should I just go in chronological order?”

Tim poked Sasha’s side. Sasha poked Tim’s side right back.

A minute later, their stop finally came.

They didn’t hold hands on the way to the office, but the two of them walked side by side, and Sasha’s hand brushed against Tim’s more than once.

They parted ways when they get to the office, though, Tim going to his usual desk (though he turned around to shoot Sasha a wink before moving out of sight) while Sasha headed not to her own desk, but to the Human Resources department.

It wasn’t hard to find, thankfully, though Sasha had never gone to it before, at least not in person. (There had been times where she had considered it, times where she’d heard a coworker’s bigoted comment and thought about reporting them, but she always stopped herself in the end, worried that kicking up a fuss would just end with her being the one kicked to the curb.) She’d made sure she knew who the best person to contact directly about this sort of matter was, too, so it wasn’t long before Sasha strolled into the office of one Maryam Karim.

Maryam’s hair was the same pitch black as Sasha’s, though Maryam’s was much straighter than Sasha’s wild curls, and her skin was only a few shades lighter than Sasha’s own, a sight which brought a slight smile to Sasha’s face as she walked closer.

Maryam looked away from her computer and up at Sasha as she entered the office, closing the door behind her. “Can I help you?”

Sasha forced her genuine slight smile into a wider one. “I certainly hope so. My name is Sasha James, and I’m here to request that I be allowed to work from home as soon as possible. My work is all on the computer anyhow, and I’ve already made sure than my home computer will be more than capable of doing everything I do here in the office.”

Maryam’s face settled into a slight frown. “Now, I’m afraid we don’t generally allow our employees to work from home, but it’s possible that we could make an exception in your case. Might I ask why you wish to do so?”

“Of course. It’s required for medical reasons. More than that is between my doctors and myself, but rest assured that I’ve examined all possibilities, and coming to the office regularly simply isn’t feasible given the state of my current health conditions.”

It wasn’t a lie. That was the beauty of it--Sasha was a horrible liar, it was true, and she was fairly sure half the office knew as much, but it wasn’t a lie. Polished a bit, perhaps, couched in the sort of bureaucratic language that HR would hopefully eat right up, but true just the same, and the words flowed freely because of it.

“Right. Well, we certainly respect your medical privacy, Ms. James. Now, would this request be temporary or permanent in nature?”

Sasha hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. The authorities claimed that their work was all done in the name of preventing further transformations, and perhaps curing those who were currently undergoing them. Was that true, or just a smokescreen for their real agenda? And if a cure got released after all, would Sasha even want to take it?

“...I don’t know.” Another truth, though not a full one. “I suppose it’s best to assume that it’s permanent, and if I end up able to return to the office after all, I can let you know.”

“Alright, I’ll be sure to note as much. Now, as I said before, such requests are unusual, and I cannot guarantee that we will be able to fully accommodate yours, but you should receive an email letting you either way in a few weeks’ time-”

Sasha shook her head. “I can’t do this for a few weeks. I need this processed immediately.”

“It takes time for things to go through the system, Ms. James. Surely you can understand as much.”

“And surely you can understand that not all medical needs can be put on hold for weeks at a time.”

“Well-”

Sasha leaned forward. Maryam had never offered the seat facing her desk, and Sasha had never gone ahead and taken the seat herself, so while Maryam was seated, Sasha remained standing in front of her. Sasha was abnormally tall for a woman, she knew that well enough, and while sometimes she disliked her height, she appreciated how it let her loom over Maryam that much more effectively now.

“May I be frank with you, Ms. Karim?”

Maryam blinked a few times before responding. “Certainly.”

“I’ve been underpaid here for years, criminally so when you compare my salary to industry standards. I think we both know why, and I think we both know that those reasons aren’t entirely legal. Combine that with certain comments I’ve heard from coworkers over the years and, well... it wouldn’t reflect well on the company, that much I know.”

Maryam’s face paled a bit, and Sasha felt a pang of sympathy, but she kept speaking just the same.

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. I certainly don’t want to have to hire a solicitor to pursue my claims in court. And I’m not asking for a promotion, or a raise, or anything like that. I simply want the company to accommodate my new medical disability, an accommodation that should be easy enough to make given my current work conditions. But if that’s not possible, well... I’ll have to take contact my solicitor and take further steps from there.”

Silence filled the air for a long moment as Maryam looked up at Sasha and Sasha back down at Maryam.

“I don’t have the authority for this, I’ll have to consult my supervisor-”

“Call them up, then. I’ll be outside waiting.”

Sasha strode back out of Maryam’s office, gently closing the door behind her before she leaned against a nearby wall and waited.

She didn’t envy Maryam, really. It wasn’t her fault the system was built like this.

She didn’t regret anything she’d said, though, either.

And once that office door finally opened again, once Maryam looked over at Sasha with a conciliatory expression and an awkward grin, Sasha knew that her speech had been well worth it.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

There’s More To Her #3

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Understanding

Akash Raizada was a far cry from his powerful, hot headed, and insanely talented cousin. However, Akash was just as unforgettable for his empathy and altruism .

No man would part with the only token of his beloved, yet Akash gladly parted from the dupatta, his prized possession, for Khushi. It was the one thing that had made the sweet woman smile on that horrid day.

No man would remain kind to their orphaned cousin who took his surname and attention from him. But Akash knew that Arnav had as much right on being a Raizada as he. That working under Arnav was not the same as being in his shadows - he was grateful for being mentored by one of Asia’s biggest fashion tycoons.  That Arnav, behind his masks of terror and anger, had been beaten brutally by life to become so.

Anjali might be Arnav’s biological sister, but to Akash Arnav was his brother - not cousin. He knew him better than anyone else.

Did he?

Shame was too small a word. And it was not due to what Arnav had said about the incident at Sheesh Mahal. It was the unsaid that occured after that. The events that Akash was too familiar with; the gossips of his brother letting Khushi fall a floor down, the forced photoshoot, the near accident at the parking lot, the guesthouse mishap.

Akash had doubted his brother’s sentiments for the woman he despised when he bolted off the house on that stormy night. He was not being heroic, he was making amends.

And Anjali, the sister he idolised, was not generous to offer Khushi a job. She was manipulative.

Akash took his spectacles from Payal and took a step back. He could not meet her eyes.

“I can’t say sorry for what my cousins have done. But I am sorry for everything, Payal ji.” He addressed her formally, as if they were back to being strangers - which was the truth. Today proved that neither knew their cousins - so knowing each other was out of the question.

“And I promise that I’ll never ask you to marry me.” He choked at the last word. Payal staggered, physically impacted by the implication of his words. How dare he write the future of their relationship? How dare he not attempt to change her thoughts?

“Please, it’s not a threat. My family has disrespected yours in every way but I want to respect you, by heeding to your request.” Payal knew she was doomed. Akash didn’t turn out to be the man she expected, he turned out to be better than she had ever imagined.

If he hadn’t listened to her, she would have wished he did. And now that he did, she wished he didn't. By accepting her refusal to marry him, he became the man she wanted to marry.

“Thank you.” She whispered, which meant I love you. Akash nodded and walked into the car, opening the car door for her.

Arnav and Khushi, mutely, followed their cousins into the car.

---

Payal sat by the temple, dusting the idol of Shiv Parvati over and over again. Khushi stood by the door, a big bowl in her hand. After fifteen minutes she gained enough courage to meet her sister.  

“Jiji, here’s your favorite gajar ka halwa!” Khushi sat by Payal and gave her a generous portion of the dessert.

“To anyone who says that a man’s way to his heart is through his stomach, he must have never seen a woman eat! What not have you forgiven me for this carrot dish! Remember when I spoiled your science project? Or when I stole all the chocolates you got for your birthday? Or to support Salman ji’s friend, Himesh ji,  I took you to watch Karzzzz?” Khushi and Payal winced at the memory of the film, it was the most traumatising experience of their lives. Payal could not trust Khushi for two years on film selections post ‘Karzzzz’.

They both burst into laughter recalling how Khushi followed Payal like a puppy, a bowl of gajar ka halwa always miraculously present until Payal relented.

Khushi took Payal’s hand, her smiles overwhelmed by her tears.

“Jiji, today, for the last time, forgive me-” Payal enveloped Khushi into a tight hug. This Khushi was the one Payal had known since forever.

“My sister would talk to me, try to understand me.” Payal broke their hug, wiped Khushi’s tears and handed her tissues before she could blow her nose in either of their dupattas.

“I do understand Jiji, but I don’t know why I thought you were being stubborn. I didn’t want to force you, I just wanted you to know how much Akash ji means to you… I thought you didn’t know how you felt.” Khushi confessed.

Payal kept their dessert bowls aside and held Khushi’s hands, “Khushi, a woman can accept, challenge or deny her feelings, but choosing either means she knows what those feelings are.”

In this turn of conversation about feelings, one can readily forgive Khushi for forgetting her sister’s feelings and remembering hers. To violently deny them though. Especially when a six feet tall, boorish, handsome man was in question.

“I was scared that you were hiding your happiness. That you were doing this for our sake.” Khushi mumbled.

“No Khushi, no matter how much I loved you all, I would never sacrifice my happiness for others. I need a man who can respect my decision.” And with a rue note, Payal realised that Akash had precisely done that.

“Good. Don’t ever sacrifice your happiness for others. It makes living difficult.” Payal would have thanked her sister, had she not noticed Khushi twisting her engagement ring.

For the second time of the day, Payal felt her blood run cold. Those words weren’t of a concerned sister, rather of a broken woman. In all the mess, Payal forgot that her sister was engaged, and to be married in a month if it went by Bua ji’s will.

Payal touched her shoulder. Khushi shook, pulled rudely out of her thoughts.

“Khushi-”

“Jiji, I’ll be back in an hour.” Khushi sprinted off. For a woman who was aware of a cheap metal key, she didn’t even bother when the single cut diamond engagement ring slipped off her finger and fell to the floor with a considerable clank.

Bua ji picked it up and yelled from the end of the hall. She waited until Khushi slowly slipped the ring. Shyam entered the hall and offered to help Khushi with it.

“No, it’s ok.” She forced the ring back and walked away, giving a polite nod to both Bua ji and Shyam.

“Aw, she’s still shy of you.” Madhumati gushed.

“It will all change after marriage Bua ji,” Shyam grinned.

An unsettling fear settled in the pit of Payal’s stomach. Khushi was far from shy,  and Shyam’s comment didn’t reflect his earlier unease and patience about marriage. How hadn’t she seen it before?

---

Arnav loved silence, unpredictability and accountability - but not when they were directed to him. Akash said nothing, asked nothing and kept firmly to his business on their way home. He behaved like Arnav, and in any other time or day he would be happy to see his brother aping his best qualities.

Except today. He wanted to talk, explain and be held answerable to the man who was more than a brother. One chance before he was judged, forever.

“Akash, what I did-” Arnav began.

“It’s not about that.” Akash interrupted, “I don’t need explanations Bhai. I know you, maybe not enough to understand your actions, but enough to defend your intentions.” His words humbled Arnav.  And he royally failed today to secure the happiness of the one person in his family who expected nothing from him.

He parked in the garage but remained in the car, “I’ll fix this mess.” Arnav promised.

“This is no mess.” Akash saw no reason to debate or blame his brother when he finally saw reason. The thirty minutes of silence gave him enough time to think about what went wrong in his relationship with Payal.

Relationship? Akash recalled all the times when he met Payal. There was attraction, respect, admiration, even love but not relationship.

“I’ll help you clear the misunderstanding.” Arnav offered, his eyes taking the sharp look which formed whenever a successful plan formulated in his head.

It was simple - he needed to go to the Guptas, convince them that they would ideally not find a better deal than that of a matrimonial alliance between Payal and Akash. If there were any doubts, he would guarantee that Akash would financially aid them as well. Akash loved Payal, Payal loved Akash - there was no need to waste further time.

In the society they lived, marriage solved everything. As Akash had said, there was no doubt about Payal’s place in his life - which said more than what Arnav could say for his fianceé.

Akash placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back from his thoughts.

“No Bhai, there’s no misunderstanding. Payal ji has said no, and that’s enough.”

“But you love her, you said you won’t regret bringing her in your life.” Arnav protested.  

“It’s a marriage, Bhai. A transaction based on mutual interest and possibility of profit for both the parties involved!” Akash got out of the car and slammed the door shut on Arnav’s face.

Counting to ten, he waited for Arnav to join him by the front door.

“Sorry,” Akash mumbled, fishing for keys in his pocket. Arnav gave him a half smile, his brother was forgiven even before he apologised. He rung the doorbell

“Bhai, Payal ji is not just the woman I love. If I’m bringing her to my life, I’m bringing her sister, her aunt, her parents, her values - everything! Tell me she won’t regret living as a Raizada.” Akash quieted as a flurry of footsteps approached the door.

In real life logic and example rarely followed each other in quick succession. To Arnav, Akash’s understanding felt all too sudden, and all too true. But when the door opened to a smiling Anjali, an unsmiling Nani and a confused Lavanya trying to understand the difference between different kinds of rice - Arnav finally understood the logic and the unfortunate example.

Lavanya Kashyap was a force to reckon with. The same could not be said for the to-be Mrs. Arnav Singh Raizada.

Akash has brushed away his discomfort with the modern-turns-sanskari program only because he believed his brother was a righteous, indestructible force who would let Lavanya become her old self once they were married. He had relied on the same shield to gain the courage to marry Payal.

“Do any of you have plans to enter Shantivan?” Anjali chuckled, clicking her fingers before Arnav and Akash. Once they sat in the lounge and had been served their favorite tea and coffee, Anjali attempted to dissipate the silence between the three of them.

“So how was your day?” She asked, preparing a plate of digestive biscuits.

“Di, I pay people to do that,” Arnav grumbled, taking the plate from her.

“I met Payal.” Akash said, keeping his cup of tea aside.

“I asked her to marry me.” Like a wise sister, Anjali kept quiet, not knowing how Arnav would react to the news of Akash and Payal. Like a wiser brother, Arnav nodded to his sister letting her know that he knew everything and did not have a problem. Breathing a sigh of relief, Anjali grabbed Akash’s hands, excitement spilling from her incessant chatter and smiles.

“Thank God Chote! First I thought I’ll have to manage you, then Mami!” She rolled her eyes at the mention of her aunt, “But then since you agree, I can involve you into the plan of getting our younger brother hitched as well!”

“Yes, and marriage means that she’ll be my wife. Her family will be like my own. Her sister, as my own.” Anjali nodded, her traditional instincts proud of Akash’s understanding of marriage.

Arnav loved Anjali too much to question what he had learnt from the Gupta sisters. Akash loved Payal too much to keep quiet.  

“Exactly, what did she say?” Anjali asked.

“What any woman would say to a man who’s sister blackmails hers for a menial job.” Anjali stood up, dropping his hands like hot coal. Arnav stood up as well, with all intention to stop Akash. Anjali had to have meant well.

“Khushi ji said she forgave me,” Anjali whispered, unable to look at Arnav.

“Her sister didn’t.” Akash got up and placed a hand on Anjali’s shoulder. It hurt him to see his brother protect Anjali from a scolding she deserved but he could not judge. Arnav and Anjali so often switched between playing each other’s parents that they probably didn’t even realise when they did it.

“Don’t worry Anjali di, it happens,” Akash smiled, “we forget that people have families. Have respect. Self respect. It happens when our clothes cost twice of someone’s ten months rent.” Akash stormed out of the house, leaving a sobbing Anjali and a stoic Arnav behind.

“Chote, I truly thought that-” Arnav shushed her, “It’s ok Di. I just wish that I was the only one who made such mistakes. Now Payal will never understand that Akash-” Arnav stopped. Payal would not understand, unless someone made the effort.

In a flash he picked up his car keys and phone.

“Chote-”

“Di, I’ll be back in an hour,” He stopped on his way and turned around to face his sister, “and Di, I’m not upset that you did whatever you could for my happiness.” Anjali sighed in relief and approached her brother but he raised his hand, gesturing her to be where she was.

“But, I told you that the contract was no longer legally enforceable. And you knew that I didn’t tell Khushi.”

---

Work is therapy. Akash wished that was true. The two hours he spent negotiating the launch of the winter collection only added to his headache.

A wise man once said that words, like arrows, cannot be taken back. Especially the ones said in anger. And Akash was wise, furious and had a choice of words simmering in him all afternoon in the office. Hence he declined every single phone call from Shantivan, Anjali di, and even Hari Prakash, until he switched off his phone.

Unfortunately now someone was at his office door. What can a man do to get one peaceful day!

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

“Rakesh, you know I don’t want any visitors.” Akash said.

“How about a friend?” Khushi Kumari Gupta, disrespecting all beautiful rules of privacy, entered the room and stared eye to eye with a shocked Akash.

“Khushi ji, what a pleasant surprise. Is Payal ji here? No… why should be? Khushi ji, I have decided to understand Payal ji’s no, so there is no yes in the no. You are my friend, but I won’t be convinced. You know how Payal ji is,” This was another case of verbal diarrhea.

Victim, Akash Raizada. Cause, first love and heartbreak syndrome. Previously seen in Khushi Kumari Gupta.

Khushi wondered if this is how she sounded to her family members throughout her life. That would explain her nicknames and her sister’s continuous worry of her health. Right now Akash would faint if not interrupted, as in the case of diarrheas, and her sister would have her head if she inadvertently caused the death of Akash Raizada.

Oh wait, even the Laad Governor would have her head, without any preliminaries, if anything happened to Akash. So, out of pure selfishness, Khushi had to act.

“... Payal ji was right. I had no idea Di had enforced the contract on you. Don’t worry I have understood Payal ji’s no. You do not, please, convince me otherwise-” Akash babbled.

“Stop! Hey Devi Maiyya, who told you I’m here to convince you?” Khushi asked. Akash violently colored and sat on his office chair, to stand up again, show Khushi the office guest chair and sit down back in his chair.

“Oh.”

“No means no. But now that you’ve understood her no,” Khushi began, “don’t you think it’s time you understood her?”

---

“Coming! Khushi if you knock once more-” Payal opened the main door and stopped. Last she remembered, Khushi was not six feet tall, wearing  a pompom free and colorless suit, with a beard and a permanent scowl on her forehead. Also, she was not a man.

“You’re not Khushi.”

“So I’m told,” Arnav said.

If there were any doubts on Payal being Khushi’s sister, her inconsequential observation, and the necessity to voice it, removed it. Seldom had Arnav been faced with female attention not directed towards them, especially when he was in their line of sight. But Payal had other plans, and other intentions, as she craned her neck to find the taller, spectacled Raizada.

And even more rarely, had Arnav been pleased by someone’s utter lack of interest and disappointment in his solo arrival.

“Akash is not here.” He informed her. Payal blinked at him in a way that he interpreted as I-was-not-searching-for-him-at-all. It reminded him of Khushi.

“Why are you here?” Payal asked.

“I need to speak with you.” Arnav answered.

“I don’t want to speak with you.”

“What the fu-”

“What?!” Payal glared, knowing well where the last word went.

“Future. Of yours and Akash. He loves you.”

“I have said no.”

“I’m not here to convince you. I’m just saying that - damn it - Payal, not everyone gets the chance to marry someone they love.” Arnav said, his words betraying his inner turmoil. It struck Payal, love, it’s what Khushi spoke about and believed in but her current situation deprived her of the one thing she ever wanted.

“Ok, meet me in Happy ji’s garage, five minutes.” Payal instructed.

“Why Happy’s - his name is happy? - garage?” His question was promptly answered with a loud ‘Hai Re Nandkisore’. Payal raised her eyebrows, gesturing a conversation between Bua ji and him. Arnav was intelligent, he chose his battles well.

“Right, Happy’s garage, in five.”

---

Next Chapter

A/N: Thank you for your great feedback/response. Be sure to stay safe, alert not anxious during this season! Take care

[dat-fandom-losertown]

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 8: The Search

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson x Connor, Gavin x RK900 (Ritch)

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: Inaccurate/Unfair representation of a therapist (for only 1 paragraph), A physical fight, and I think that’s all?

Word Count: 12,273

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Hey guys, I normally don’t like putting notes before a fic, but I just wanted to apologize for this update taking literal months, and I wanted to thank anyone who’s still around and is still wanting to read this. On with the long-awaited chapter!

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    After Ritch hesitantly peeks through Connor’s journal (which turns out to be admittedly helpful, if not surprising because of the specific note that Ritch is more compatible with Gavin despite the fact Ritch had always made sure Connor wasn’t in the area when they started picking at each other, the one exception being during the Alex fiasco) and adds his own information to it, he goes to lunch.

    He ends up spending most of his meal time talking with the Jericho Squad (and he doubts he’ll ever not internally cringe whenever they unironically call themselves that) about therapy and what generally makes a good therapist and a bad one. It’s actually quite helpful. Helpful enough, in fact, that after he and Connor take two written evaluations directly after lunch– with the second one having significantly harder and oddly specific questions that he’s sure they both got some wrong– he initiates a relatively unstressful talk with his brother about general types of therapists.

    They end up agreeing that they absolutely don’t trust strangers with anything personal, which will make this entire endeavor harder than it probably should be since the therapist will be a stranger. They also surprisingly agree on what type of therapist they think they’d prefer to have, despite their very different personalities. Neither twin mention that this may be because the warm, casual nature of the person they’re both hoping for is nearly the opposite of how Amanda always treated them, but it does vaguely show up in Ritch’s unsettling dreams that night.

    The next morning, on his way to breakfast, Ritch almost predictably runs into Gavin. However, instead of immediately getting into another round of gibes, Gavin is so wrapped up in whatever he’s doing that he doesn’t acknowledge Ritch at all. He supposes that even the pilots with shorter tempers have actual work to be done, so the trainee doesn’t question it and moves on. Ritch refuses to believe that the negative emotion he feels because of the lack of attention from Reed is disappointment. Just another thing to shove away and forcibly forget about for the preferably indefinite future.

    The strength tests after breakfast definitely help with keeping him distracted from therapists and Gavin and anything else he’s shoved away from his mind so well that he can no longer recall what they are (but he knows they’re there. He can feel them trying to cause him more stress and uncertainty, but all he has to do is pointedly not think about that vague feeling and they can’t bother him). Chloe doesn’t show a reaction or share their results during the strength evaluations, so he doesn’t know if they’re just average or if they scored close enough to what they had before that no input is needed. Yet another thing to add to the “don’t think or worry about it right now” pile.

    Thankfully, or unfortunately, depending on the point of view, he forgets about everything in that mental pile except for one thing after he finishes dinner. The therapist search. He and Connor have separate people they’re going to check out, since Marshal Fowler said it would be better for them to not have the same therapist. Both he and Connor readily agreed.

    When Ritch arrives at his appointment, the older man only greets him and introduces himself as Dr. Johnson before getting right down to business. That isn’t anything more than a rub in the wrong direction, but when Ritch gives an honest but simple request, “I’d rather not give any personal information before I know you’re right for me,” the man starts assuming possible situations that could be the reason why Ritch is here without letting him properly speak. Again, Ritch doesn’t have a particular problem with this– he certainly won’t be choosing this man– but Mr. Johnson then ignores Ritch when he requests that they get back on topic and instead takes that as a “clue” that he is “getting close” to the “real reason” and starts spewing even more ridiculous bullshit.

    (As if he, of all people, would have had any time or desire at all for a romantic relationship growing up, and that he would’ve been be vengeful, of all emotions, if “she” died in what would be considered a freak accident. As if he even knows if he’s interested in women exclusively or at all. It’s not like he’s had the time or desire to experiment with relationships or even the idea of them.)

    Ritch ends up so tense with frustration that he gets up and leaves long before the session is supposed to end, ignoring the calls behind him. He will not put up with someone who won’t listen to him, not again. Not if he has any control over it, and Marshal Fowler and Chloe had guaranteed that he does.

    After those short 15 minutes, he reluctantly decides to get some outside help, and there’s only one person he can think of that would have both the information he’s looking for and the potential willingness to help– even if it’s only for Connor’s sake.

    He’s surprised to see the man he planned on looking for during breakfast. After a beat of hesitation, he figures that the sooner he asks the better, and heads over to a table with only one, familiar figure sitting at it.

    “Hello, Mr. Anderson.”

    The ex-pilot doesn’t turn around to face Ritch or sit up from being hunched over his food, and huffs in lieu of a greeting. That isn’t unexpected, though, since it is a well-known fact that Mr. Anderson normally doesn’t get out of bed until lunch is already being served. It would almost make Ritch feel guilty for bothering the exhausted man if he weren’t also concerned about himself and Connor being eaten alive by strangers who claim they want to help.

    Mr. Anderson suddenly turns his head towards Ritch, as if just realizing something. “I thought I told you to call me–”

    Ritch sees the shock on his face when he registers his blue eyes instead of Connor’s brown ones. He probably should have waited to call out to him until he was seen and couldn’t be mistaken for his twin, but he didn’t want to spook the older man by appearing in front of him without warning. There’s nothing to do about it now, though, so Ritch tries his best to offer what could be an apologetic smile, but could also very well look like an awkward grimace.

    He’s not well versed in showing proper emotions yet since he’s only had a day or so of practice. Simon and Josh are trying their best to teach him so he doesn’t look angry at the press if/when he’s announced as a new jaeger pilot, but so far it’s been an uphill battle.

    He doesn’t voice any of those thoughts when he addresses Mr. Anderson again. He is not like his twin, who gets nervous and overshares and rambles as a result. He has more self-control.

    “I apologize for interrupting your meal, but may I ask you for a favor? Or rather, offer to owe you one in exchange?”

    Something curious yet cautious glints in Mr. Anderson’s eyes. “What kind of favors?”

    “The kind of equivalent exchange. I may be out of line to ask this, but you do have experience with the therapists and such here, yes?”

    “Why the hell do you want to know.” Mr. Anderson snaps and sits up defensively, but it doesn’t bother Ritch. He was expecting this and more to come.

    “I would like to know which ones Connor and I should avoid.” Seeing Mr. Anderson’s blatant confusion, Ritch figures Connor hadn’t mentioned these trial meetings to him and explains further. “We started mandatory therapist jumping yesterday and the one I started with was pushy, impatient…” He purses his lips and looks to the side. “I generally try to avoid using words like “unpleasant” when describing people, but that’s the most accurate word I can use for him.” Ritch pauses long enough to look him in the eye. “Of course, if you do trust me enough to tell me these things, then I’ll let you cash in a single favor from me whenever you’d like.”

    Mr. Anderson snorts and turns to his food again, trying and failing to not let his surprise show. Is he surprised because Ritch wants his help, even though he can count their interactions on one hand? He can’t imagine it being anything else, especially since he knows of some of their issues from Connor apparently mentioning and/or actually talking about them with the older man. Maybe his twin downplayed their experiences again despite being much more anxious than usual recently?

    God, this is way too much thinking for someone who’s been actively trying to not think for the past several weeks, years even.

    “Lemme guess, a favor within reason, right?” Mr. Anderson jokes sarcastically after a few moments.

    “I am not my brother or your old partner.” Ritch states.

    Mr.Anderson looks up at him at that, very still with slightly raised eyebrows, probably asking “Does that mean what I think it does?” silently. Ritch answers the assumed question with a slight upwards tilt of his head, “Yes.”

    Ritch has far less of an issue than Connor does with doing things that don’t exactly follow the rules. Not that his brother has any particular issue with breaking the rules, he just doesn’t like to anger people because he seems to have trouble making them not angry anymore. Ritch, on the other hand, usually knows exactly how to placate and bargain with most types of people, and thus he has very little apprehension of doing things against the rules.

    Mr. Anderson hesitates for a moment before nodding his head to the chair in front of him, saying, “Go and sit down. Should I wait for Connor before I start or–”

    “Wait for me to start what?” Ritch’s shoulders stiffen in surprise, but he quickly relaxes them again. He didn’t hear Connor behind him over the white noise of the food court. ”If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

    Ritch turns to his twin. “Mr. Anderson has agreed to tell us about some of the therapists here so we can narrow our search. Did you have a pleasant experience with yours yesterday evening, Connor?”

    He knows Connor catches the silent apology in his tone for ignoring him yesterday when his brother wanted to “compare results”, as he called it. Ritch needed to focus on how to get the tight-lipped Anderson to talk about something he likely would rather not. This is all rather straightforward and easy compared to what Ritch thought he was going to have to do.

    Connor answers as he sits down in the chair to the left of Ritch and places a steaming cup near Mr. Anderson’s tray, “I wouldn’t call it pleasant, but I wouldn’t call it unpleasant either. I believe Dr. Amelia Johan would be suitable enough if there were few or no other options. What about yours?”

    Ritch feels his expression darken slightly and has to stop himself before he clears it, then he ignores how vulnerable and awkward he feels in order to exaggerate the emotion. According to Josh and Simon, not immediately returning his face back to neutral makes him seem more human, as mildly insulting as it was to insinuate that he wasn’t human for keeping his thoughts more private. It’s one of the things they insisted he work on, though.

    “Avoid appointments with Mr. Johnson.” Ritch states plainly, pretending he doesn’t see Connor’s concerned look and body language out of the corner of his eye.

    Hank snorts in agreement. “You were right to call that man pushy. Pushy and he never lets the conversation be turned to himself or give you a break for even a second. It’s like talking to a wall that always insists you got mental work to be doin’.” He shakes his head, “I guess it works for some people… From what I heard, the roughest appointment with him is the first one, especially if you don’t work with him, but I wouldn’t know.” he finishes with a shrug.

    Connor frowns. “That’s pretty much the opposite of what we’re looking for.”

    That visibly grabs Mr. Anderson’s attention. “You’re both wantin’ the same kind of shrink?”

    Connor nods with what looks like amusement in his eyes, “It was a surprise to us as well.”

    “We’d prefer someone who is kind and more casual rather than always controlling where the conversation goes.” Ritch finishes.

    “You’d probably like Alicia Steinfield or Alexander White, then,” the older man informs immediately. “If they even still work here, that is. And avoid Johnson–” he gestures to Ritch “–obviously, and Dustin Payne and Felix Antúnez. They’re pretty strict and prefer to follow the ‘therapy is only about work’ policy. I didn’t like them much, either.”

    The ex-pilot takes a slower, almost exaggerated bite of what’s left of his breakfast. Ritch wonders if that’s a normal thing for him and Connor, because his brother, without seemingly realizing it, starts eating his own previously ignored breakfast. Interesting.

    “Dr. Steinfield and Dr. White.” Ritch forces himself to nod as he commits the names to memory because that’s apparently a normal, human thing to do according to Markus.

    Connor turns to face Ritch. “Do you think we could request to change our schedules so we can meet them this afternoon instead of the ones we had previously?”

    “I’m willing to try. After we finish breakfast.” Ritch adds as Connor moves to get up. “I’m sure they’ll at least let us skip anyone with a similar... technique as Dr. Johnson.”

    Connor nods, settles back in his seat, and starts shoveling food in his mouth in a way that Amanda would definitely disapprove of. Ritch simply sighs and turns to finish his own food in a more respectable-sized bites. He and Mr. Anderson end up making eye contact for a moment, just long enough for the older man to nod at him, and for him to return it.

    Getting this information was much easier than he thought it would have been, indeed.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Once Ritch finishes his own food and leaves with the message that he’ll be going to the training room after requesting a meeting with whoever’s in charge of setting up their appointments, Connor quickly swallows his large bite of food. Speaking with a full mouth isn’t a habit he particularly cares about if other people do it (he’s had to sit through too many meals with too many “important” people who do that to truly care anymore), but he hates doing it to others. Besides, Hank may put up with his weird eating habits (some days, like today, he’ll shovel his food in his mouth because he can’t get enough, and other days he’s barely able to force down several nibbles), but he's pretty positive the ex-pilot draws the line at seeing what he’s chewing.

    “Thank you.” Connor says, not hiding any of his sincerity or gratitude.

    Hank harrumphs and looks away. “I did that for more selfish reasons than you think, Connor. You don’t need to thank me.”

    Connor simply raises an eyebrow. “If I know you as much as I’d like to think I know you, I know that if you didn’t really want to surrender that information, no amount of bribing from Ritch would have gotten you to tell us.” Hank’s head snaps up at that, but Connor pushes on. “And considering that I wasn’t far behind Ritch when coming to the food court, he didn’t have to barter with you very much to get you to agree.”

    He doesn’t explicitly say how he’s almost positive that means Hank actually care about people and things, even if he doesn’t realize or want to admit it himself. Hank hates even the mention of himself having any positive emotions for whatever reason. Connor doesn’t understand it, but he hopes to learn at some point in the future when Hank is ready. If he becomes ready.

    He almost expects Hank to get grumpy or irritated at him for even insinuating he may secretly be a caring person, but he just sits there and stares at Connor for a few moments. Connor decides against continuing the eye contact, since it usually make things more awkward for Hank when he snaps out of whatever it is that makes him zone out like this occasionally. He turns back to his food. Just as he raises his second bite to his mouth, Hank speaks up with a cautious tone.

    “How did you know he offered me something for the information?”

    Connor answers easily and nonchalantly, “That’s his tactic for getting something he wants.”

    “Huh?”

    Connor sets down his fork of food and looks up to study Hank’s confused– and concerned?– face. He figures the full truth of Ritch and Connor having to train themselves to be successful manipulators so they could get nice things while growing up would ruin everything he’s trying to do and be with Hank, will invalidate every single thing Connor has ever done or said to gain the fragile, unsteady trust he’s gotten from him, so he only tells a gross understatement.

    “When Ritch wants or needs something from someone he doesn’t know well but trusts enough to not be purposefully difficult or cruel, he offers a favor because he doesn’t know which specific thing that person may want. It’s nice to know that he trusts you enough to not purposefully send him into a situation that will get him hurt in huge trouble.” Connor smiles lightly and takes another bite of food, believing the conversation is over.

    “What about you?” Hank’s question pulls him out of his head.

    Connor snaps his head up in surprise. “Me? What about me?”

    Hank huffs in what sounds like amusement, and the assumption is proven right when Connor catches the slight uplift at the corners of his mouth as he shakes his head.

    “How do you get what you want from people?”

    Connor only hesitates in his answer because he has a feeling that Hank will not like it.

    “I like to do most things on my own without needing to ask for anything because I like the sense of accomplishment, so I usually only needed to pull little tricks when Amanda needed sponsors for something and Ritch and I decided to split up. In those cases...” Connor glances away.

    “People like giving things to people and creatures that look innocent, helpless, and fragile, like small children or puppies or kittens. Even on a subconscious level, people like having something to temporarily protect, whether it’s because of the ego boost or just because they’re a nice person and like to help. Even if everyone knows that I am the opposite of fragile and I’m certainly not helpless or childish, I tend to appear so when in uncomfortable situations, so it helped me gain pity points when making the rounds for sponsors.”

    “Is that part of why you get anxious if people don’t like you? The sponsorship stuff?” Hank’s winces, like he didn’t mean to say it, probably knowing how quickly this question could make things go wrong, but did anyway.

    But Connor doesn’t feel the same suffocating pressure he knows he’d feel if anyone else– even Ritch– had asked this same question. He knows Hank hates people, and that he hates gossip even more. He knows Hank isn’t asking him this to judge him or anything of the sort. If anything, he’s asking out of curiosity that has mixed with the same protectiveness that he showed when he gave him the weighted blanket and the stress ball, that leaked in his voice when he asked how old Connor was that same day.

    As much as he has been subtly pushing to get closer to Hank, Connor is only now realizing how safe and calm he feels around him compared to how he feels around the people closer to his age. It’s not logical by any means for someone who is unstable (hopefully only temporarily) to get along with someone who is easy to anger and snap– Ritch has made that beyond clear since the very beginning– but for some reason, it’s working for them. He doesn’t know how or why, but it is, and he’d really rather not look a gift horse in the mouth.

    “Hey, Connor, you don’t have to–”

    “I don’t know.” Connor quickly says, needing to interrupt Hank’s obvious attempt to take back the question.

    After a short moment of pondering, though, he sets his elbow on the table and his head in his palm, continuing in a casual tone, “I don’t actually know, I’ve never thought about any of it before.” He huffs a laugh that lacks humor, lowering his hand and turning back to his food. “That’s probably why I have to find a mandatory shrink, huh? To get me to analyze this with this stuff?” He shakes his head. “Ritch is not going to like this one bit, and it’s going to get much worse before it gets any better.”

    “Yea.” Hank says with obvious discomfort. It snaps Connor’s attention back on him. “Yea, it probably will be. You uh, you even okay enough for the shit that’s about to pile on ya? Especially 'cause you’re apparently going straight into a jaeger once you’re declared ready for it. Skipping training and all.” he asks with false nonchalance. Connor has no clue why Hank is asking these questions when he usually avoids this kind of thing like the plague, but he answers anyway.

    “I know I’ve been a nervous wreck since we first got here, but that’s mainly because Ritch and I have never been anywhere near as busy and overwhelming as this place can be. And it certainly didn’t help that we were trying our best to blend in with the herd and not stand out when we’ve spent the last decade learning how to do the exact opposite. Now that we’re slowly getting used to this place and not having to worry about holding back anymore, we’ll be able to show everyone exactly why we were able to graduate from this program so young.” he finishes confidently, head up and back straight.

    Hank just looks at him for a moment. Right as it starts making Connor unsure about his answer and has him coming up with things to distract from his bold statement, Hank nods and starts clearing his area. The ex-pilot makes eye contact with him with a strange, earnest look he doesn’t think he’s seen from the older man before.

    “I hope you will, Connor. Show ‘em what ya got.”

    Hank turns and leaves, leaving Connor with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

    The first thought that comes to mind after his thoughts have slowed down enough is man, I wish I had someone to tell about this. Of course, he’s sure that Simon, Markus, and Josh would listen (not North, though), but they wouldn’t understand why this is a big deal, especially since they still don’t seem to like Hank very much. For that same reason, Connor certainly can’t go to Ritch about this either, even with the fact that Ritch now voluntarily owes Hank a favor. Owing something to someone is different than tolerating them enough to listen to a twin get excited over the tiniest bit of encouragement and support from them.

    Connor quickly finishes his meal and cleans up before heading to the training area. If he’s going to prove to everyone that he deserves to stay here even though he and Ritch have lied multiple times on things that definitely should have gotten them thrown out, then he’s going to need a good partner.

    Traci is a good choice– and Connor’s first on his list– but she and Ritch get along easier with one another than she does with Connor. He doesn’t know exactly why, but she’s very hesitant around him and the atmosphere between them is awkward more often than not, so that’s probably a no-go. Jeremy could possibly work too, but his combat skill is too far behind for Connor to feel comfortable approaching him with something like offering a partnership. Plus, he doesn’t know much about his personality beyond “quiet” and “reserved”, so that is a bit of an issue. He’ll have to start some conversations with the other people on his list before he can properly narrow down–

    “Connor! Hey!”

    Unbothered by the interruption, he spins to greet Markus, then waves to Simon, North, and Josh who are close behind him. He pauses to let the four of them catch up before continuing on or saying anything.

    “I don’t think we’ve actually talked since the morning after the party. How have you guys been holding up with the training regime?” Connor asks with a smile.

    “It’s been hell,” North immediately complains, “and I know we haven’t even started the hard-core stuff yet. We’re just getting into shape and learning basics.”

    Markus nods in agreement, “You and Ritch are lucky you get to skip this.”

    “Maybe not so lucky…” Simon interjects, “That just means they’ve done all of this at an earlier age.”

    Don’t panic, don’t panic. They mean nothing by it, just don’t panic and make things weird, Connor chants to himself as he forces himself to answer aloud calmly with a shrug.

    “It wasn’t too bad. We were children with lots of energy when we started doing what you guys are doing now.”

    North and Josh nod together. It’s the first time he’s ever seen the two agree on something before. It’s almost frightening.

    “Traci started her self-defense and karate lessons when she was young, so it makes sense.”

    There’s a silence that Connor would describe as calm or peaceful that lasts for a few moments. He counts it as a win that he has managed to not visibly freak out like he is internally. He messes with his hair for a second to give his hands something to do in the hopes that maybe they’ll stop shaking if he does. Markus must catch the nervous movement for what it is, though.

    “You alright, Connor?”

    “Yea, I’m fine.” He plans on stopping there, but then he realizes that these four people are probably the best people he can go to for advice on making friends and finding potential partners. “I’m just worried about finding a partner, I guess. As you could probably tell, I normally don’t do too well around people I don’t know well.” Connor chuckles softly, but even he can tell that it’s somewhat off.

    “Any chance we could help with that?”

    Connor mentally blesses Simon as he says, “If you don’t mind, that would be amazing.”

    Josh smiles and comes around to Connor’s other side. “So what do you need help with?”

    He barely stops himself from saying everything short of learning the English language.

    “How did you guys know you could be compatible with one another? Because Ritch and I are technically compatible, but in reality we aren’t.”

    “So the difference between working well with another person and being drift compatible, you mean?” Simon clarifies, and Connor nods graciously. “I guess you wouldn’t have to learn too much about that since you were supposed to pair up with Ritch all along, huh?

    When Connor nods once more– again very thankful that Simon is insightful enough to figure this out without having to make Connor struggle to get a proper explanation out– Markus begins the explanation.

    “Well, I guess one difference is how well you know a person. Obviously, people who have known each other for longer are naturally going to be more compatible because they can be more in sync, but what we’re learning now in class is that that alone just isn’t enough to become jaeger pilots. Skill and mindset play huge roles in it too.”

    “Like the Hallowitts.” North offers. “They get along great and are as close as siblings can realistically be, but they are, by far, the least compatible pair in that room. I’d be surprised if they last another week here.”

    “I’m inclined to agree.” North snorts and Markus smiles at Connor’s wording, but he forces himself to pay it no mind. “As much as I’d like to think that everyone has an equal chance here, they just don’t. There’s a reason passing rates of the jaeger training are so low, and even those who pass aren’t guaranteed to become pilots.”

    Josh nods, “Exactly. Now, that being said, there are rare cases of two people who have never met being perfectly compatible.”

    “I guess the difference is how you mentally click with a person,” Simon jumps in, “Like you and Ritch don’t dislike one another, but you also don’t really get along or understand each other, right? Maybe at one point you did, but not anymore. You guys aren’t drift compatible because your mentalities and coping mechanisms are just too different, even though you both grew up in the exact same circumstances and have complimenting skill sets.”

    “So I find someone who understands the crazy things I do in certain situations and why I do it?” Connor asks dubiously.

    “And someone that can keep up with you, because damn, Connor, you and Ritch whooped each other’s asses on that first day.”

    Connor sighs heavily. He still has the aches from a couple of the worse bruises left over when he touches them, even though there are no more marks, because there hasn’t been any other training or exercises that have given him new bruises and scrapes so he can ignore the old ones. Don’t get him wrong, it’s nice to not have something he needs to actively ignore, but it’s yet another difference from what he grew up with and more proof that he’s in a completely different world now.

    Connor sighs again, with this one coming out as more of a groan than a true sigh. Where the ever loving hell is he supposed to find someone who can not only keep up with him in skill and not drag him down constantly, but also understand him and his trauma (if what Dr. Johan was going on about in their meeting yesterday is actually true for him, anyway) enough to know when to leave Connor alone and let him to his thing and when to step in to help.

    Ritch is relatively good at doing so, mainly because Connor usually likes being left alone, and Ritch always leaves him alone, but he doesn’t seem to understand Connor at all or care to learn the intricacies of him. He also doesn’t seem interested in letting Connor see any side of him that isn’t practically programmed by Amanda (the level of shock he felt when he saw and heard Ritch actually bantering with none other than Gavin Reed during the “Alex knifing” almost hurt. Why did it take such a publicly known asshole to bring out any kind of personality in Ritch? Why couldn’t Connor after his years of trying?).

    If his own brother can’t understand, then how can he expect anyone else to understand when they won’t have a clue of what he’s been through until it’s too late. He already opens old wounds over and over again with god-awful memories whenever he gets into a mood dip, he doesn’t want to scar anyone else who wouldn't even know what to expect, or worse, they think they do know what to expect. Although, how can they when he can barely think about it in his own head without going into panic-and-shutdown mode?

    “Hey,” Markus brushes his hand against Connor’s arm, gently bringing him out of his thoughts. He gets too lost in them too often.

    He nudges Markus’ hand kindly and says in a tone much more tranquil than he feels, “I’m alright. Just thinking of possible candidates.”

    “And?” North smirks. Count on her to try to lighten dark or awkward moods.

    “I’ve got pretty much nothing.” Connor chuckles much more genuinely than last time. If it has a tad bit of hysteria mixed in like he feels like it might, then no one reacts to it.

    At the four’s light insistence, he agrees to tell them why he believes he won’t match with anyone. He can’t look up from the floor at all. He tries to for half a second, but that makes everything so much worse about this situation, so he stares at his boots. If he tries hard enough, maybe he can forget that trying to explain this exact thing just a few weeks ago is what left him self-bedridden for a couple of days; maybe if he ignores hard enough, he can pretend that he’s talking to himself and there are only his footsteps instead of five sets in total. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he stops so the other four have to stop too if they want to listen. No more footsteps, problem partially solved.

    He can’t procrastinate that answer anymore.

    “I don’t know if you’ve been told this already, or if it’s just common sense to people, but in the drift, you share every single memory with person you’re pairing with. Certain events get more attention than others, obviously, and there is no known way to control what they both see or for how long. You just live through the other person’s memories as if you’re looking back on your own, and then look back on your own while a presence hovers over your shoulder and someone else’s emotions and reactions to events flow through the drift.” He takes another deep breath; his heart rate is getting too fast and his head is feeling too light.

    “And with that being said, I’ve got some real bad memories. Bad enough that Amanda used to try and convince me that they were just vivid nightmares. I think Ritch believes it’s a dream for whatever reason– or maybe he’s still on her side or something?– I don’t know, but it doesn’t work for me. I still can’t talk about it, but thinking like that and trying too hard to bury it is what made me break and sent me in that mood dip a while ago.” 

    He finally gets the courage to look up at the others and struggles to force his breathing to stay deep and slow. It helps that they only look concerned and surprised, rather than literally any other emotion his head was coming up with– fear and disgust, to name a couple. Although, he doesn’t know if the shock is a reaction to the information about what the drift is like, or to the fact that he’s actually talking instead of running and hiding in his room like he so desperately wants to.

    “I don’t want to scare anyone. I can’t live through those memories– not now, anyway– so how can I expect someone else to?” Connor shakes his head, trying to ignore the nausea that’s slowly but steadily growing. “I don’t even know how Ritch is gonna do it. I mean, the only people besides us who really know about this are you guys and–”

    Hank.

    Hank, who let him sit at his table on Connor’s first day even though he had a reputation of eating anyone who came near him alive, and had nearly done so to Connor at first. Hank, who stepped in and helped make him eat after his mood dip even though they had barely known each other for a couple days at most; who, almost immediately after, lead him back to his bunker (a place no one has been to in a long, long time, supposedly) so he could give him a weighted blanket and stress ball. Hank, whom Connor told he lied on essential paperwork when Hank was giving him a snack from his stash (another unheard of thing) and decided to tell Marshal Fowler to give him and Ritch a second chance instead of to get rid of them. Hank, who, despite saying weeks earlier “You’re still a kid to me”, had asked Connor to call him by his first name and has always treated him like a proper adult even though he is quite literally the youngest person on this base.

    Hank, who apparently loves (or at least used to love) dogs and, if the laugh lines and obvious protective instincts are anything to go by, used to be a kind, giving fellow who would laugh and smile easily; who now has to drown his traumas with alcohol and alcohol-induced sleep, not unlike how Connor drowns his own haunting memories with mind-numbing sleep brought by high-grade sleeping oils.

    No one makes– has ever made Connor as comfortable as he does, for whatever reason. It’s been years since anyone has been able to break down Hank’s walls like Connor has been doing effortlessly these past few weeks. They both have their issues, but Connor thinks that could help if they were to ever enter the drift together. Hank wouldn’t be scarred by his memories, and Connor doubts the ex-pilot’s memories could affect him any more than his own traumas affect him now. Besides, Connor has a feeling that he won’t be declared ready-for-battle as quickly as Ritch will be, so that’s plenty of time to wear Hank down, right?

    It’s not like the ex-pilot needs to do too much to get back into shape, anyway. Years and years of doing something over and over again makes every single technique and maneuver pure muscle memory that can’t truly be forgotten. That mixed with the fact that Connor based a lot of his own combat style on Hank’s and Marshal Fowler’s from when they were still active, they might fight better together than people would think. Plus, and Connor doesn’t think anyone else has noticed this between them averting their eyes from him and the hoodies he normally wears, but Hank is still rather built under that beer gut. He could probably carry Connor across the base if he really wanted to.

    Scratch that, he absolutely could if he tried, easily. He almost wants to test that some day. Maybe. Possibly.

    “Uhh, Connor? You good?” Josh tentatively 

    Connor shakes his head in wonder. “Yea, actually. I…”

    He pays close attention to himself, how his breathing is back to normal, the nausea and lightheadedness are almost gone, and he only just now realizes that his hands were shaking again because they don’t feel that way anymore. Yea, his heart rate is still a little high, but give it a few minutes and even that’ll be back to normal.

    He doesn’t trust this.

    “I feel fine. Way calmer than a minute ago.” He adds doubtfully, scrutinizing his own steady hands as if they can give him the answers he wants. “I think I found someone I may be compatible with, but I don’t even know if he’ll want to pair with me to pilot a jaeger. But even that made me feel better.” He looks around at the small group with uncertainty. “I’ve rarely calmed down that fast in my life, and never outside of my own room where I can be left alone to think.”

    North steps forward and carefully places a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Seems like you’re the plannin’ type of guy. You always feel better when you have a plan, and hate when you don’t, right?”

    Based on everyone’s light laughter and large smiles, he doesn’t hide his amazement and realization well enough. That makes sense, though, because he wasn’t trying very hard in the first place.

    “That… That makes a lot of sense. Perfect sense.” Connor smiles.

    He gestures forward, signaling that he’s ready to keep moving, and they all do happily. Connor doesn’t really stop thinking about how he could possibly get Hank to at least test their compatibility and get him warmed up to the idea of un-retiring.

    He doubts that Marshal Fowler would have a problem with helping him get Hank jaeger-ready if Connor can somehow prove their compatibility and Hank’s willingness to start piloting again. If he would have a problem with it, he doesn’t think Hank would be on the base anymore, let alone still bunking in the jaeger pilots’ hall. Marshal Fowler doesn’t seem to be the type to play favorites and put friends first, but Connor could always be wrong.

    As he slowly forms a plan in his head, he slowly becomes more at ease. It’ll take more in-depth thinking and several pages in his notebook, but where before he only had a vague hope, now he has a small chance, and that’s slowly becoming just enough for Connor.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Gavin is getting real tired of all this snooping around. He’s normally the type of guy to fling himself right into the thick of things and deal with the repercussions later; not because he doesn’t care about what kind of trouble he’ll get into later– at least not anymore– but because he doesn’t have enough patience to sit still and do nothing even though he knows there’s bad things going on.

    He tried to convince himself over the past couple of days to just do as Luther and Fowler said and not get involved in the “Alex Knife Supplier” case, as he’s been calling it in his head, but nothing has happened to his top suspects at all and he doesn’t want those assholes to get away scot free. It’s one thing to just be an asshole, it’s another to actively endanger the lives of coworkers and allies. Even he knows that.

    There’s still 20 minutes left of breakfast and he still hasn’t eaten or even entered the food court because he’s been too busy watching those assholes from afar in the hopes that he can catch anything that can bring up more of a case against them. He’d rather not tussle with them until he knows he can get into their bunker and confiscate whatever the fuck is in there, but right now it’s starting to look like he’ll have to tussle with them if he wants any evidence at all.

    “What are you doing, Reed?”

    Gavin instinctively spins around and throws a punch right at the man’s throat, but it’s expertly caught by none other than the Ritch Bitch. After a split moment of surprise from having his punch properly caught, rather than blocked or deflected (which other people have trouble doing sometimes), Gavin instantly scowls and rips his fist away from the other’s grip, silently hoping the goody-two-shoes decides against reporting him for assault or something like that.

    “Don’t fuckin’ sneak up behind me, asshole,” he sneers, “And it’s none of your god damned business. So fuck off.”

    Ritchie raises an unimpressed eyebrow– since when does this dude emote?– then tilts his head at him like a fucking dog. He shifts his gaze to the group Gavin’s been watching for the past hour.

    “Isn’t that the group Alex hung around before he was thrown out?” he asks in a weird tone, almost as if he was aiming for interest or teasing and fell flat.

    Gavin’s eyebrows rise in surprise for just a moment before settling back into a scowl. He hates how many times this prick has caught him off guard today.

    “M’ surprised you even know that. Thought you were too busy bein’ the top of your class to pay attention to what the others were up to.” he turns back to the group, watching them laugh about something Gavin would probably want to punch them over.

    Ritch steps closer to him, inviting himself into Gavin’s cover like an asshole, as he explains, “If anything, being the top of my class means I need to pay closer attention to the other trainees, since I’m somewhat a tutor and an example for them. But that’s besides the point, I know someone as impatient and conflict-hungry as you wouldn’t wait in the shadows without a good reason. What are you waiting for, hm?” the asshole taunts. At least he sounds more normal now. Gavin doesn’t know why, but it was really unsettling before.

    He huffs irritably, but doesn’t immediately taunt back. He may as well tell a part of it. If Ritch is right about being top of his class, then maybe he’ll have some new input, as much as Gavin hates the thought of needing someone else’s help. A mission completed with someone’s help is better than a mission failed with escaped villains, after all.

    “I think they had something to do with how Alex got his knives.”

    To his surprise, Ritch just nods in solemn agreement. “What’s stopping you from interrogating them?”

    Gavin huffs again, this time in irritation at the situation. “Fowler.”

    “Ah. You’re not supposed to get into it, but nothing has happened yet, yes?”

    Gavin whips his head around to glare at the human robot. He suddenly can’t be sure that that’s the expression his face actually makes, though, because the annoying asshole just nods like he’s confirming something to himself again.

    “Have you tried getting into their bunker to check for clues yourself?”

    When Gavin huffs, it comes out less irritable and more incredulous of how stupid this guy can be.

    “If I could do that I wouldn’t be fucking bothering with this, now would I?”

    The trainee just sighs and says, “Come on,” with a beckoning wave of his hand, then turns around and starts walking away. Gavin doesn’t move.

    “Where the hell do you think you’re going? And why the fuck should I follow your ugly ass?”

    “If you want to be caught and get us in some serious trouble, then sure, keep talking that loudly. Also, I’m almost interested in seeing the asses you’re used to looking at if you think mine is ugly.”

    Gavin barks a laugh that has very little amusement. What makes him think he can just start controlling the show out of nowhere like this?

    “You? Trouble? Aren’t you supposed to be, like, the golden child of the current gaggle of recruits or something?”

    Ritch spins around and looks at Gavin with an obviously forced smug and mischievous smile. “If you honestly believe that, then you’re just like everyone else here and have no clue how wide my skill set actually is.” He turns back around and starts walking again. “Come or don’t come, I don’t care.”

    It takes a second for Gavin’s brain to reboot because it’s obvious Ritch is obviously trying something new here and holy mother of god is it making him uncomfortable. This is not the Dicky Ritchy (that name was more than a stretch, never again) he’s been messing with for the past week or so. Once his head does reboot, though, his curiosity of what the hell baby-face is going to do and the irritation that he thinks he can one-up Gavin again wins over standing by the entrance of the food court and watching a bunch of assholes laugh a ways away as if they don’t realize they’re the scum of the earth.

    He speed-walks to catch up to Ritch, because it’ll be a cold day in hell when he’s seen running or jogging anywhere that isn’t to a jaeger or a kaiju. Once he makes it to Ritch’s side, the other speaks in a soft tone.

    “I don’t actually know where their bunker is, so you need to lead the way, unfortunately.” Gavin groans, but still pulls ahead slightly to lead. “How much time do you think we have until they return to the room, and are there any cameras?”

    Everything about this encounter with Ritch is throwing him the hell off– not just how strange the man is being– but he plays along anyway, never one to turn down some scheming.

    “The cameras in the pilot’s hall has been broken for months, maybe years. And the fucksticks will be out of the way for at least an hour. They always stay in the food court until they’re kicked out after breakfast is over, then they go to the gym for a while.” It’s why he avoids the gym like the plague in the morning.

    “Perfect.” he smiles with that same forced smile as before. Gavin’s had enough.

    “Okay, I wasn’t going to say anything, but you’re really startin’ to creep me the fuck out.”

    That rips the fake smile right off the robot’s face. Good, that was the main thing bothering him.

    “Am I?”

    “Yes.”

    “Oh.”

    There’s a silent pause, then Gavin’s starts talking partially because he fucking hates silences and partially because he needs to never see that kind of expression on Retch’s (he may actually use that one) face again.

    “So if I’m reading this right, you’re doin’ me a favor by apparently getting me into this dorm so I can raid their shit, right?” Ritch nods silently, so he continues, “Good. So I’m just gonna return the favor ahead of time and give you some advice because I hate being indebted to people. Got it, asstown?”

    Ritch turns his head to properly look at Gavin, then nods again, slower this time. There’s no smart ass comment to the insult, though, unfortunately.

    Gavin immediately launches into a half-taunting half-serious ramble, “Now I’m only gonna say this one time– so you better fuckin’ savor this, ‘cause I don’t do this shit for just anyone– but holy shit you need to stop making faces and using certain tones when you don’t actually want to. Like, you’re known for being a robot. You can’t feel emotions the way the rest of us can, or you just process them or show ‘em differently. That’s your thing, just like my thing’s being a fuckin’ dickwad all the time and Anderson’s is being a depressed drunkard.

    “Don’t try to go full human on everyone all of a sudden. Just stay fuckin’ blank if you wanna. Only cowards give in to peer pressure and shit.” Gavin huffs in exasperation. He’s is in a very huffy mood today, apparently. “I don’t like looking at your ugly-ass, baby-faced mug as it is, and it is so much worse when you try to smile or some shit like that when you’re obviously not feelin’ it. It’s fucking unatural is what it is.” He shivers and curls his lip in exaggerated disgust.

    Ritch just stares at him for a second, then states in his normal, flat tone, “The only unnatural thing here is how much you smell despite the fact you’ve been standing around and doing nothing for the past couple of days.”

    Gavin smiles evilly, secretly thankful that Ritch didn’t try to go down the genuine route and is instead continuing their normal interactions. Of all the nasty names under the sun he could call him, “unobservant” and “stupid” are two he can’t. “Emotionally oblivious” and “ignorant” or “naive”, however, are not off the table.

    “No, the unnatural thing here is that you’re a grown ass man and you use fruit-scented lotion.”

    Ritch gives him a weird look, but it’s at least genuine, thank god. “I do not use lotion, I simply shower everyday, unlike some people.” He pauses barely long enough to look Gavin up and down before continuing. “It’s not my fault you prefer what is obviously scentless men’s soap when women’s soap smells nicer and is less harsh on skin.” He faces front again.

    “Hold on,” Gavin wheezes, “You actually use women’s soap? Like, regularly?”

    “What of it? Are you not secure enough in your gender and sexual identity that using a soap with fruity smells that come in colorful bottles is too much for your poor masculine mind to handle? Poor baby.”

    Gavin wrinkles his nose. “Hell no. I’m gay as fuck but you still don’t see me using that girly shit. It’s a matter of preference, asshole. And I’m surprised you even know what gender identity even is, since you don’t seem to know much else about real humans.”

    Gavin doesn’t realize what he just blatantly admitted to until he’s done speaking. Of course he has to be enough of a dumb ass to officially come out to the one dude who was raised by an old woman. God damn it, he’s probably homophobic. At least it’ll give Gavin a reason to punch him the next time he gets irritated with him.

    Either oblivious to Gavin’s internal wariness or somehow reading his mind, Ritch explains in a condescending tone, “Amanda was insistent that we don’t treat people differently just because of how they identify, and one way of doing that was learning proper titles of people who aren’t ‘Male’ and ‘Female’ and other things your small brain would probably get bored with. But good for you for being just a normal ass and not a homophobic one. You’re slightly less likely to get punched now, anyway.”

    That… is actually pretty cool, the fact that Ritch apparently has no problem with anyone who isn’t cis-het. It’s a complete plot twist and surprise, but it’s cool to know that the dude would only hate him because he’s him and not because he’s gay. He’s been tired of the homophobic jokes and slurs since the 5th grade, so it’ll be refreshing to have someone that’ll skip right over that genre of insults with him, as refreshing as it can be when they’re ridiculing one another, that is (which can be damn refreshing, if you ask him).

    Gavin lets their talk end there as he slows down when they get close to the grease-heads’ bunker. He then silently checks the hall for anyone who could be watching or approaching, and quiets his voice down when he addresses Ritch, keeping a careful ear out for any footsteps or voices. He may be reckless half the time, but he’s not stupid enough to get caught breaking and entering someone’s private dorm.

    “Well, asshat, this is it. Work your robot magic and hack us in.”

    “It’s actually not hacking of any kind. I would ask if you want to learn how, but I doubt there’s enough room in your skull for a brain larger than a peanut with how huge your ego is.”

    An involuntary, offended squawk bursts out of Gavin’s throat, and after a short hesitation where he lets himself be embarrassed before moving on, he smacks Ritch on the arm. “Move over asshole. My ego ain’t that fuckin’ big, asshole, you’re mistaking me for yourself.”

    Gavin sees Ritch roll his eyes. “First, look at the keypad, you see the numbers that are more worn down than the others?”

    “2, 5, and 7? What about them?” Gavin replies in a more serious tone, suddenly a lot more invested in this than he thought he would be.

    “Those are the three numbers that are in the code. Basically, over time, as the same buttons get pushed over and over, the oils and pressure from fingers either wear down the ink of the numbers, or tint the glass over the buttons and give it a tan or brownish look compared to the other clear ones, depending on what kind of keypad it is.”

    “Okay then, genius, how do we know the order of the code, ‘cause–”

    “I wasn’t done,” Ritch interrupts, “The first button is usually the most worn down since the most oils rub off and degrade it more than the others, but in this case, since there are only three numbers worn down for a four code password, the most worn-down one is the one pressed twice, the next worn down is probably first. And when there are repeat numbers in a code as short as this, they’re rarely one directly after another.”

    “So the 2 is repeated, and the 5 is probably before the 7.”

    “Yes.”

    “What if the twos are actually right next to each other. What if they’re both first and last?”

    Ritch actually smirks this time. “I’ll be smart about it and we hope for the best.” Gavin gives him an incredulous look as he continues. “How many tries do we get to do this?”

    “Three. If you fuckin’ think you can–”

    “Watch and learn.” Ritch interrupts fuckin’ again as he gives his full attention to the keypad.

    He tries 5272 first and is denied, then immediately tries 2725 and the door unlocks with a small, green flash of light.

    Gavin doesn’t even know how to react. “What the fuck. I thought you said the 5 was first!”

    Ritch just nods and opens the door. “ I did, but there are other variables that I don’t feel like going over right now, we don’t have time to waste.” He nods to the door he’s holding open, “You go in and investigate and I’ll stand guard out here. I’ll knock if I think someone is coming so you can get out. Wouldn’t want you to get caught and rat me out to lessen your sentence, or have you get both of us caught in the first place.”

    “Ha ha. I’m glad you’re not coming in, anyway. You’d just get in my way, bitch.” He shoves past the trainee, purposely knocking his shoulder into his.

    “Close, but no cigar.” Gavin turns and looks at him in confusion. “My name is Ritch with an ‘R’, not a ‘B’. I can understand if you misread it, but mishearing it when you have no documented hearing problems is a different matter altogether.” He sighs dramatically while maintaining his straight face, which is kind of odd to witness, but not the same odd as before. “At least you’re learning, it was closer than ‘Dick’, anyway.” He finishes as he shuts the door.

    Gavin flips him off even though he won’t see it, then mumbles, “Fuck off, you prick.”

    Gavin quickly looks around the smelly, messy bunker. Time for the fun part.

    He knows better than to dig through places aimlessly and move things too much, so he goes to the tiny closets first. It’s crammed with useless stuff, but there’s nothing clearly illegal hiding in there and there doesn’t look like there’s a false back or bottom, so he closes it. The other personal closet is exactly the same– messy, but inconspicuous– so he moves on. He quickly checks under the bed (nothing) and on the top bunk towards the wall (again, nothing) before moving on to the bathroom.

    In the bathroom, the first thing that Gavin notices is that the mirror is slightly crooked, which shouldn’t be possible since the medicine cabinet behind it is welded to the wall. He opens it and it’s immediately apparent to Gavin that there is a false back; the cabinet is way thinner and more warped than his and Tina’s are, and all of these things are supposed to be basically identical. The fact that it’s empty only accentuates how wrong it looks because there’s nothing blocking the false back.

    He peels it back with ease and behind it is a stack of sheathed knives. Just judging by the handles of these weapons– and the fact that they were (poorly) hidden– they are definitely not pocket knives (the only knives permitted, since they’re mostly used for cutting wires and cables and are smaller, less harmful).

    Before he can do anything else about this new discovery, though, he hears the bunker’s door click open and shut again. Gavin’s in the middle of trying to figure out what to do when Ritch barges into the bathroom and grabs his arm.

    “Gavin, we need to get out of here!” Ritch hisses and grabs Gavin’s arm right above the wrist and yanks him out of the bathroom.

    He tries to yank and twist out of the trainee’s grip, but he isn’t successful. “Give me a second to grab–”

    “I don’t care! We need to go. Now!”

    Suddenly he’s being shoved further away from the bathroom. He hears the medicine cabinet slam closed, then the trainee tugs Gavin towards the bunker door with more strength than he expected. He tries again to pull his arm out of his grip, but Ritch moves his hand and presses his thumb into the sensitive part of the inside of his elbow. He’s yanked in a direction then hears the bunker door clicks shut behind them along with any possible evidence that he now knows for a fact is in there. He doesn’t even remember the code to the door anymore, all he knows is that the five isn’t first, so he can’t get back in.

    He takes a split second to look up and down the hall and sees that it’s completely empty. He could have easily grabbed at least one of those knives. Hell, even using his phone to snap a quick picture of the stack of them with the false back in view would be enough to warrant a search of their dorm– possibly even have them suspended immediately while the investigation starts– and this fucking prick pulled him out for no god damned reason.

     Overcome with anger, he blindly kicks out where Ritch’s knee should be. It works. The asshole goes down for only a second before he rolls into a crouched position facing him, his expression angry and hard. He gets up to his feet smoothly, but Gavin isn’t stupid enough to believe that his muscles are actually as relaxed as they seem, they’re combat-ready, and this asshole is three seconds away from getting his fight.

    “Gavin, cut it out. We need to go–”

    “No! Let me back in you fucking asshole! There’s no one here!” he shouts, spinning with his arms spread out wide, showcasing the nothingness that is in the halls. “You’re just being fucking paranoid. We need those–”

    Ritch suddenly punches him in the jaw. Gavin takes two steps back, but quickly rights himself.

    “I said. Shut. Up.” Ritch snarls, but his attention is on something behind him, and Gavin uses that to his advantage.

    He quickly throws a punch towards Ritch’s collarbone and throat area, but the little devil twists just in time for Gavin to only catch the sensitive part where his shoulder meets his pec. 

    At least that should bruise real nicely. Get what you deserve, asshat.

    He doesn’t get much more time to think about it, though, because there’s suddenly a fist coming straight at his face again, and he ducks. Gavin throws a punch to his gut, but his opponent spins out of the way. He then aims a punch to Ritch’s face, but that gets caught and twisted. He aims a kick at the asshole’s knees before it can get too uncomfortable, and even though Ritch loosens his grip to dodge the attack and he’s able to get his fist free, the trainee doesn’t go down like he wanted.

    There’s a moment of hesitation from both of them. It’s only long enough for Gavin to see Ritch scowling and to get himself in the position to effectively whoop some ass. His partner-in-crime-turned-opponent doesn’t take his attention away from him again, and instead uses the moment to study Gavin’s stance. He has no doubt he has the same kind of attentive scowl on his own face right now.

    Gavin makes the first move, moving as if he’s going to punch with his right hand when he’s actually planning to go to the left. Disappointingly, Ritch doesn’t fall for it, and catches his arm. Gavin dodges his attempt at tripping him, then aims a blow at the stubborn asshole’s neck. He ends up letting go in order to dodge Gavin’s move, but is back quickly with a punch of his own. He ends up catching and tries to shove Ritch into a more vulnerable position, but he ends up letting go to dodge a kick to his gut.

    This guy definitely has more skill than the average trainee, especially for one this new, that’s for sure. Although, that won’t change the fact that he’ll mess up or tire before Gavin will, and he’ll be in a heap of trouble and pain for blowing up the plan.

    The only thing that Gavin is able to focus on after that is where the next punch or kick is coming from and where there’s an opening for him to punch or kick back. One one hand, he’s feeling confident because he hasn’t been hit a single time beyond that first jaw punch. He’s been catching, blocking, and dodging all of his kicks and punches. He’s pretty positive that the only injuries he’ll have from this fight are maybe sore hands and some bruises on his arms from the amount of blocking and deflecting he’s doing.

    On the other hand, however, Gavin’s really starting to get pissed off because Ritch is taking about as much damage as he is right now, which is none. The damn asshole doesn’t even look tired yet. Not that Gavin’s getting tired– he can keep this pace up for a while longer– but what kind of trainee as new as Ritch is able to keep up with a well-seasoned pilot and brawler? He already knew Ritch was good, but he wasn’t supposed to fucking match Gavin like this in a fight.

    Once Gavin accepts that this won’t go anywhere unless he switches things up and stops playing by sparring rules, he lunges forward with most of his weight to punch Ritch in the diaphragm with the hope to knock the wind out of him. It almost works, but Ritch dodges at the last moment and kicks him in the back of the knees as he passes, making Gavin collapse roughly onto his hands and knees. Just before Ritch can pin him down, he shoves himself up into a handstand and his heel narrowly misses the asshat’s jaw as he leans out of the way.

    He sees Ritch quickly swoop his leg out to knock his arms out from under him, but Gavin springs up and flips back onto his feet. He spins to face his opponent and aims yet another punch to his face, but it’s caught and isn’t immediately released like before. A hand comes flying towards Gavin’s neck, but he blocks it, grabbing the other’s wrist and twisting his arm down. Ritch suddenly spins himself so his back is facing him, then grabs Gavin’s wrist and yanks him closer. Before he can do anything to prevent it, Ritch shifts his balance and flips him over his shoulder.

    Gavin somehow manages to twist himself so he can land in a low crouch and wastes no time in jabbing an elbow back. It doesn’t hit anything, but Ritch does loosen his grip so he get free. Gavin rolls out of the way before he can get kicked down, then grabs Ritch’s ankle as it returns to the floor. He stands, bringing his opponent’s leg up by his shoulder, but instead of toppling over like he expected, Ritch quickly switches his weight to his hands and latches his free leg around Gavin’s middle, and when he lets go of his ankle to shove the menace off, Ritch latches that one around as well. Gavin knows what comes next before it happens, and lets himself be twisted and forced to the floor by Ritch’s weight, allowing him to sit on top of Gavin’s chest.

    He lets this happen because he was able to control how he landed, and made sure his feet were planted on the ground just as his back hits the floor. He immediately jerks his entire torso off the ground before Ritch can properly situate himself again, and thus makes him topple over for just a moment. A moment is all Gavin needs, though. He spins onto his stomach and tucks his legs under him at the same time, then rapidly sits up and shoves his head up and back. Ritch dodges the headbutt attempt, and Gavin watches him roll backwards into a standing position as he spins and stands to face him.

    In that split moment of stillness where they’re trying to predict each other’s next move, Gavin suddenly realizes that, for the first time in literal years, he’s having genuine fun sparring with someone. It would probably scare him if he weren’t so focused on the surprisingly competent trainee. He doesn’t even have enough room to think about or process why he would or should be scared. God damn Ritch and his god damned surprises at it again, the fucker.

    Before Gavin can gather his head long enough to make the first move, Ritch suddenly jumps on him, somehow spinning so his thighs are clamped around his neck and head. He uses his weight to try to topple Gavin over, but Tina tried to do this to him one too many times before, so he knows to go to a wall so he doesn’t immediately go down. He then reaches up to twist and pull Ritch’s knee out to the side with his fingers pressing against the nerve bundle on the inside of it. Judging by the surprised noise Ritch lets out, he wasn’t expecting that, and he starts to slip. He suddenly shoves off the wall, leaving Gavin scrambling to regain his footing while keeping that knee tight in his grasp. Just before Gavin can properly get his balance back, Ritch leans back and slightly to the left, bringing them both down. His plan is faulty, however, because all Gavin has to do is put his hands down and land in a handstand and Ritch’s legs slip past his head, leaving him free to back handspring back onto his feet just as his opponent sweeps his leg where his hands used to be.

    Jesus, this is a lot more flipping than Gavin is used to doing. He can’t exactly flip in a jaeger and it’s been years since his gymnastics class.

    Feeling that his back is literally to the wall and watching Ritch flip back on his feet, still relatively untouched, he pushes off of it for more momentum, hoping he can take him by surprise or something. Just as Gavin reaches him, the trainee drops on onto his back and twists and curls at the same time. He doesn’t understand why until a boot hits the backs of his ankles hard and forces him down. Just as Ritch pounces to pin him down, Gavin turns onto his back and tucks his legs in. His opponent barely stops himself in time before he springs his legs up, so Ritch doesn’t get launched away like he was hoping. Gavin instead uses that momentum to sloppily flip into a crouch.

    He dashes up and nails Ritch in the gut with his shoulder and lifts him off the ground, ready to slam him back down to disorient him. He doesn’t get to because he flips forward out of his grasp. Next thing he knows, there’s an arm in front of his throat and he’s being shoved down and backwards, so he twists so he’ll land on his stomach and breaks his fall. He instantly twists and kicks his leg out to get Ritch on the ground too, but the asshole jumps to his other side. No matter, because now Gavin can wrap both arms just below his knees and he forces the man down hard. 

    He jumps up to get on top of Ritch, who is already rolling onto his back, but is held back by another set of arms. He immediately lashes out and knocks whoever was holding him back in the head, but it was enough to get his mind out of the fight just enough to understand that they’ve gained an audience at some point. Ritch must not have realized yet, though– or maybe he doesn’t care– because he sets himself into a crouch and Gavin is already shifting his weight to dodge right to avoid getting rammed into–

    “GAVIN! RITCH!”

    They both instantly freeze and go tense. Ritch’s eyes are wide with alarm and are focused beyond his shoulder. Gavin has a feeling that he and Ritch are thinking the exact same thing.

    Oh Shit…

    Gavin slowly, cautiously, spins around to face a very angry Marshal Fowler. There are around 15 other people who have apparently been watching the show, if the way Chloe is shooing them away harshly is anything to go by. There’s one burly man who looks like his job is probably moving heavy materials around here who is clutching his bleeding nose.

    In an attempt to put off dealing with Fowler for as long as possible– and maybe a little bit because he’s kind of concerned because he didn’t hold back on that headbutt at all– Gavin takes a step towards him.

    “Oh. Shit. Your nose isn’t broken, is it–”

    “Reed. Stern. My office. Now.” That voice was the worst one. Fowler is usually yelling or “not mad, just disappointed”, but that was the calm angry voice. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t “Gavin” and “Ritch”, it was “Reed” and “Stern”.

    Wait, “Stern”? Why does that sound familiar?

    Ritch lightly brushes his shoulder, silently urging him to follow the marshal. With one quick glance back to the injured man, who Chloe is now hopefully leading to a nurse, he does. They silently walk side by side and keep close enough to Fowler that he can hear their footsteps following him, but never get closer than five feet, as if they’re afraid he’ll randomly snap and start laying it on them. Who knows, he might. Gavin has never been in a fight that big before.

    God damn it, they are so fucked.

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Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

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A/N: I want to thank everyone who read this again, and thank you all for being so patient with me. I’ve had this chapter almost done since the middle of January and it’s been killing me to not be able to finish it and have it posted. But it was a crazy few months, then some other crazy stuff happened, then quarantine kind of zapped all of my motivation to do anything.

  But anyway, I hope this long chapter was worth the disgustingly long wait. I’m going to really try to get an update out every Monday, but I can promise that you’ll never go longer than a month without an update from now on. Comments (even if they’re just as simple as “nice chapter”) do wonders to motivate me! And I also have oneshot requests open to help motivate me! Here’s a list of ships I’ll write for!

Thank you for reading (and powering through me super long note) and I hope you stay safe and have a wonderful day/night! 💕💖