#AT LEAST STEAL THE WHOLE CAR I HAVE INSURANCE

[mooooonnnzz]

World/Insured Part 3

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ hope you guys r liking it so far!! :p

☆ 4,4k words

✶ “Can we talk about [Name]?” Ford suddenly brings up one day. The waves of tourists have been moderately slow for the day, allowing Stan and Ford to kick back and relax for once. And in the midst of sitting down on the couch, his mind dwelled over to the thought of you. Stan let out a long sigh as he sat down, pitt cola in hand. Stan was trying to break free from his alcohol addiction, Ford noted. “Sure, what do you want to talk about?” The causality held in Stan’s words made Ford uneasy. He was so unnaturally calm with his words, at least the last time he brought you up, he can sense the agitation in his words, but he couldn’t find any dripping anger from him now. Mustering up all the courage he had left, he asked; “How were they?” He felt his mouth run dry. Out of everything he could’ve asked, he asked that? All the questions he had were out the window and off into the woods, leaving him scrambling for words. Taking a sip from his soda, he said, “Do you want to know how they felt immediately after they left with me?” Ford nods. “Well, being fifteen and a rage of hormones, they pretty much hated you.” Stan’s eyes glance over to Ford whose face could visibly read hurt. “I’m just kidding!” Stan cackled, shoving Ford. “They were ripped apart. I remember they told me how they felt everything and nothing at the same time, real poetic than one.” He takes another sip. “They missed you so much while I hated your guts. I couldn’t think of you without seeing red and they couldn’t think of you without crying.” He swirled the drink in the can, looking down to his shuffling feet. “What did you guys do to survive?” 

✶ “I enrolled them into a high school. I didn’t want them to be stupid like me, ya know? And while they were in highschool, I started my business which earned us money to get by.” Stan told him. “Would you even call what you did a business?” Ford said with his eyebrow raised. “Hey!” Stan rolled his eyes, placing the can of soda down on the floor. “Once we got banned from a few states, [Name] put their foot down and encouraged me to get a job. And guess what, I landed a pretty good job! My history of stealing peoples money was long gone, until now,” Stan quietly said the last part. “And we were living pretty comfortably. I got us a nice house, a good car and [Name] graduated highschool and they got a job as manager of some sort, can’t really remember.” Stan scratched his chin idly. “They were on their way to move out and take their business elsewhere when you decided to show your face.” Stan cleared his throat, looking at Ford. “They talked about you a lot.” He softly added. “I saw how they lit up when they saw me for the first time. They looked so much older.” Ford said. “I mean, yeah, that’s what happens when you miss, like, 10 years of their life.” Ford ignored Stan’s comments and mulled over his thoughts. After a moment, he spoke up. “Thank you for talking about them, Stan.” Stan shot him a smile. “Of course, talking about them wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Since then, Stan would share stories of you whenever Ford asked, ranging from embarrassing ones, to one’s where it was a little harder for Stan to tell. But in the end, it brought them closer together and kept the memory of you alive. 

✶ Much to Ford’s dismay, the whole shack was rearranged to be a tourist trap. By day, they were busy ripping people of their money and by night, they buried themselves in their work, fixing what they could while simultaneously searching for the second book. And before they knew it, they were in their late 50’s. Adjusting his fez, he smiles at himself through the mirror. “Stan!” Ford bursts through his room, starling Stan. “Geez, Ford! A little warning next time?” Ford stammers over to him. “No time for that!” He huffs out. “The book! I-I can’t find it!” Stan’s face falls. “What?! What happened to it?” Ford opened his mouth to answer when Soos yelled out; “Mr. Pines!” Stan curses to himself, that must be the kids. “Do you have any idea where it could be?” Stan asks. Out of all the days something could’ve gone wrong, why today? “I think maybe the gnomes took it?” Stan was ready to scream again when Soos called for them again. “I want you to go and look for the book.” Stan insisted, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not coming with you to get Dipper and Mabel?” Ford gasped out, his hand slapping on his chest. “No! Because you lost the book!” Stan pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I lost the book? It was probably a gnome who took it!” Ford defended. “How are you so sure that a gnome even took it?” Ford scratched the back of his neck nervously. “They may or may not have knocked me out just a few moments ago.” Stan was so ready to deck him in the face when Soos came into the room. “Mr. Pines!” He pointed outside. “The kids are here!” “We know that, Soos.” The twins spat out. “But there’s this wolf mailman dude, and I really don’t trust him and he’s probably like eating the kids right now at the bus stop!” Soos rambled out. While Stan carried an unimpressed face, Ford’s face twisted to one of horror. “We need to pick them up now!” Unfortunately for Stan, both Soos and Ford have a rising suspicion that the mailman is a wolf in a human disguise. But the man was just hairy! Ford pulled Stan along and got inside his car. Starting up the car, Stan let out an exhausted sigh. “How did puny little gnomes knock you out?” He asked, backing out of his parking spot and onto the road. “I was busy reading when they knocked me out cold! I don’t think they intended to steal the journal, when I was waking back up they realized and grabbed the nearest object possible and ran out of there.” Stan sighed, tapping his finger on the wheel. “I really can’t believe you sometimes.” He mutters. “It wasn’t my fault, Stanley!” 

✶ Coming to a complete stop, Ford rolled down the windows, a large smile on his face when his eyes landed on his favorite great nieces. “Grunkle Ford!” They cheer, equally large smiles on their faces. “Hey, hey!” Stan watched as they stumbled into the car with their bulky backpacks skidding against the roof. “Where’s my love?” Stan exclaimed. “Right here, Grunkle Stan.” Mable giggled, wrapping her arms around Stan’s neck and nuzzling her face into his shoulder. “That’s more like it,” Stan grinned, gingerly patting her back. “Now where’s the sweaty one? I’m missing one!” Dipper sighed, a playful roll to his eyes. “I’m right here,” Mable pulled away from Stan and swiftly latched herself to Ford. “C’mon, give your old grunkle some sugar.” Dipper cringed. “Don’t ever say that again, Grunke Stan.” He said, hugging Stan. “I say what I want, kid! We live in a free country for a reason.” The drive home was full of conversation, the twins telling their grunkle’s stories from school and their home life. Stan and Ford made the conscious effort to comment and react to everything they said, if not Mable would make sure they did by repeating what they said over and over again. When the Mystery Shack came into view, they both shoved their face against the window, marveling at the shack. “Is this what Grunkle Stan is always talking about when we call him?” Mable’s hot breath fogged up the window. “Yup. And now you guys get to see it.” Ford gestured to the shack, smiling proudly. He had soon come to love the shack he and Stan worked on, he will never admit that out loud though. Parking in his usual spot, he turns to the kids. “Get yourself settled in, alright?” They wasted no time jumping out of the car and scampering off into the shack. “And don’t touch anything!” A jar crashing onto the floor was heard in the distance. “They don’t listen, do they?” Stan shook his head. “Alright, poindexter, what are we going to do about the book?” He started, looking at Ford who pulled at his turtle neck anxiously. “We have to wait till tonight to look for it.” Tonight came and they were too wrapped up with the twins that they couldn’t go out and search for the third book. Their schedules became so busy that a week had passed and they still were waiting to find an empty slot in their schedules to find the book but it never came.

✶ “Grunkles! Grunkles!” Mable came running at them at full speed. “Woah there, kiddo!” Ford swooped Mable up from the floor. “You almost bumped into me.” He laughed, putting her back down on the ground. “That was the plan.” She giggled. “But I have something to ask!” She shoved her hand inside the pocket of her skirt. She pulled out a photo, a very specific photo that Stan had kept in his room. She pointed at the person in the middle. “Who is this?” She asks. “Mable!” Dipper rushed to the living room. Bending over, he hoisted himself up by propping his arms on his knees. He wheezed out, his eyes locking onto the tense scene in front of him. “Did she already ask about the photo?” Silence was his response. Breaking out of his trance, Stan swiped the photo out of Mable’s hands. “Where did you find this?” Stan’s eyes flickered between the photo and Mable. “In your room.” A flash of emotions went through Stan’s face. Why was Mable in his room? Why did she pick this photo out of all the things in his room? He spiraled. He wasn’t expecting to speak of you to someone who had no idea of your existence. Stan’s heart crumpled into a pathetic ball. The twins had never met you. Ford took notice of Stan’s unnaturally quiet nature.  “Kids, why don’t you go to your rooms?” Ford said, kneeling down to their height. “But why?” Mable whined, pouting. “Because we need to decide if we are ready to tell you, okay?” Ford gave a knowing look to Dipper who understood that this wasn’t an easy topic. Dipper told something to Mable and with a worried look, she dejectedly followed him up to their room. “Stan?” He looks over to Stan who was shakily pulling out a packet of cigarettes. “I thought you quit, Stanley?” Ford watched sadly as he walked inside the kitchen and searched for a lighter, when he did he pocketed it and walked back out. “It’s either I drink or I smoke.” Stan said, heading towards the porch. Ford followed after him, shutting the door behind him. “You want one?” Stan offered the pack and he debated for a moment before denying his request. Stan brought the cigar to his lips. He cupped his hand around the cigar as he lit it up with his lighter. Taking a deep drag of the smoke, he allowed himself to relax, welcoming the familiar feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. “We don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.” Ford spoke, watching the puff of gray smog lighty cover his vision momentarily. “I don’t think we have a choice here.” Stan takes another long drag from the cigarette. “We can tell them we’re not ready yet.” Ford reasons. “I think it’s time they should know about [Name].” Stan stares at the late afternoon sky. “It was just all so sudden and I didn’t know how to react. It all went downhill from there.” Stan twiddled his cigarette between his fingers. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Stanley. I know how you feel.” A comfortable silence blanketed the both of them warmly. “Do you ever wonder what [Name] would think about the twins?” Ford breaks the silence, glancing at Stan from the corner of his eye. Stan wistfully smiled, stubbing out his cigarette on the floor. “[Name] would have loved the twins.” 

✶ Stan looked between the twins. “So, whaddya wanna know?” He asks. “Who are they!” Mable shouted. “They are our younger sibling.” Ford said. Mable’s face exploded into shock. “We have a secret Great Aunt/Grunkle?” Mable couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Where are they?” Dipper questioned. “They’re somewhere,” Stan said with a strained voice. “Where is somewhere?” Mable cocked her head to the side. “They’re out exploring the world.” Ford horribly lied. Mable frowned. “You can tell us if they’re dead, Grunkles. You don’t have to hide it from us.” Stan took a harsh deep breath in. “They aren’t dead, pumpkin. We just have no idea where they’re at.” Mable nodded her head in understanding. “Did you guys fall out?” Dipper asked with a tiny frown. “Yeah. A terrible fight broke out and they left.” Ford gazed at the photo of the three of them when they were young, clueless of the world and just happy to be surrounded by one another. “I’m so sorry.” Mable’s excitement was no longer there and was replaced by sadness for her poor Grunkle’s. “It’s okay, dear. No need to apologize.” Ford assured Mable with a smile. “[Name] is a wonderful person,” This was the first time Stan had talked about you in a present tense and he couldn’t tell if he liked that or not. “I hope one day you get to meet them.”

✶ Unbeknownst to the two older twins, Dipper had found journal three when Stan instructed him to go out and put out signs in the woods. But they didn’t find out that Dipper had it until he had shown the book to Ford and Stan after the events that had followed them the past few days. “Gideon nearly destroyed the whole town trying to find it!” Dipper said. Stan pretended to feign interest as he skimmed through the pages. “I don’t know what it means, or who wrote it, but after all we’ve been through,” He looks at Mable and smiles, directing attention to his Grunkle’s who were trying their hardest to hide their actual feelings. “Maybe you guys should finally know about it too.” He grinned. “I’m glad you showed us this, Dipper.” Stan shut the book closed. “Uhm, Grunkle Stan. Why does Grunkle Ford look like he’s about to crap himself?” Mable looked concerned for her Grunkle. Everyone turned their attention to Ford who weakly smiled at them. “Excuse him. He’s still shaken–” Ford yanked Stan by the sleeve and pulled him out of the twins room. “We need to go to the lab now!” Ford whispered. “I know that, Stanford! But at least let us pretend we don’t give a ratsass for this book!” He whispered back. “We’ll be back!” Ford awkwardly excused him and Stan. The twins heard their Grunkle speedily walk down the stairs. “Do you think I’m ever going to get that book back?” Mable shrugged. 

✶ Placing the books right next to each other, Ford flipped to the pages containing the blueprints. He connected the books together, showing the full plan of the portal. Stan read the instructions and swung over to the controls, he flipped the exact switches that were told to be switched. The lights around the portal flickered on. “Oh my god!” Ford laughed out in surprise. “Is this actually going to work?” Stan and Ford rush over to the portal. Their hearts thrumming against their chest. Together, they pulled the lever. With a click, it moved to the other side and the portal hummed. Zaps of electricity emitted from the portal as it powered back on. A rush of wind blew by Stan and Ford as the portal swirled to life. Ford shook his head in disbelief. “Can’t believe we did it, huh?” Stan says with a smile. “I thought we were never going to get this portal turned on.” Stan claps his back. “Well, believe it!” 

✶ Ford was so sure they weren’t going to get caught. He was so absolutely sure. The plan he made to steal the nuclear waste was perfect, there was no room for error. But it seemed like the universe had other plans. He never imagined himself getting pinned to a cop car with cuffs around his wrists. This was more of a Stanley thing, and yet here he is, getting arrested. “This is all just a big misunderstanding!” Ford cried out, his cheek squished against the hood of the cop car. “Guys, can’t I give you some money?” Stan approached them with his hands in his pockets. They all watched him nervously, guns aimed and men ready to tackle him down. “Grunkle Stan, maybe you shouldn’t!” Mable grabs Stan’s hand and pulls him back. “You guys got the wrong guy, my brother is innocent!” Stan argues. “Oh, we’ve been watching your family all summer and we have seen some pretty disturbing things. Whoever you think your brother is, he is not what he seems.” They shove Ford into a car. “Guys!” Ford calls, the door slamming shut on him. Stan watches as they drive off with Ford, his head spinning. “As for you guys, we were removing you off the property.” The guy with a mustache said, directing them to another cop car that was beside them. “No, you can’t!” Stan felt helpless. He just wants you back, why is this so difficult? The chaos spiraled into madness and suddenly, Stan was in the lab, begging the kids to not turn off the portal. “This’ll end the world, Grunkle Stan. Why can’t you see that?” Dipper had his hands hovering dangerously close to the button. “Just listen to me, kid. It’ll make sense later, just don’t press the button.” He walked towards them but was soon taken off his feet. “Brace yourselves!” They all rise up, twirling and thrashing around the room. “T-Minus, thirty five seconds.” The robotic voice said. Dipper had grabbed onto a beam and told Mable to reach for the button. Using the cable wrapped on her foot, she inched herself close to the button. “Mable, wait, wait!” Stan pushed him off the wall and tried reaching towards her. Soos dove straight for Stan and wrapped himself around him, apologizing to him. “Soos, what’re you doing?!” Dipper followed what Soos did and yelled at Mable to turn it off. 

✶ “Stop!” Everyone looked around and they all gasped when their eyes landed on Ford. “Mabel, don’t listen to Dipper. Listen to me,” Ford pushed himself toward the nearest beam. He coiled his arm around it, securing himself. “Do you trust me and Stan, Mable?” Ford firmly asked, his eyes locked with Mabel. “I do!” She desperately said. “Then trust us when we tell you to not push the button.” Mabel looked to Dipper who was widely shaking his head. “Okay,” She raises her hands above her head. “I trust you guys.” She let herself float up, away from the button. “Mable, no–!” A white flash envelops them whole. 

✶ They all roughly made contact with the floor. With a groan, Stan rubbed his head, his head lifting up towards the portal. The portal flickered with wandering electricity. Ford held his breath, eyes fixed on the portal as he waited. A black figure barreled out of the portal, their head whipping towards it. “Close the portal!” You yelled, your hand wrapping around a gun that was hoisted in their waist. You turned their attention back to Stan and Ford. “Close the portal!” You repeated louder this time. In the distance, they all heard a loud distorted guttural grumble. Ford got up from his feet and rushed over to the control panel, flicking all the switches down. “Switch the lever off!” Switching the gun to your other hand, you aimed it at the portal and with your free hand, you pulled the lever. Before whatever monster was chasing you could catch up, the portal sputtered close. You held your chest, catching your breath. The rush of adrenaline you felt passed and you were immediately struck with pain. “Thank you.” You whisper, clutching your side. You think you can manage and to prove it, you take one wobbly step forward. You tried to take another but you collapsed to your knees,  blood splattering on the floor below you. “[Name]!” Stan yelled, he darted towards you. “Stanley?” You croaked out. You blinked in surprise. “Is that really you?” Your question falls on deaf ears as Stan yells for medical supplies. Ford comes rushing to your side, inspecting the upper half of your body. “Stanford’s here too?” You felt your body teeter from side to side. “Is Mom and Dad gonna pop up?” You joke, your body crashing onto Ford. “[Name], can….hear…?”  Stan’s voice fades in and out. “What did you say?” Your eyes squint at Stan. “Here, Grunkle…” You could hear a high pitched voice and you go to look for it but your vision has gone hazy. “They’re slipping…out of…” You really wished you understood what they were saying. And without even realizing, your eyes closed on you. 

✶ You feel a warmth tickle your face causing you to stir awake. “Oh my gosh, it worked!” A voice spoke. “Mable!” A prepubescent voice filled your ears. “What is with all this talking?” You sleepily grumbled out, peeling your eyes open to see two tween kids staring right at you with big wondrous eyes. “Hi, I’m Mable! I’m your great niece.” She introduced herself. “Great niece?” You groggily got up. “Where am I?” You ask, blinking as your vision comes back to you. “You’re in the Mystery Shack!” She tells you with a chipper attitude. “Mystery Shack?” You look down to see that your original outfit you wore was now discarded somewhere and instead wore a large baggy white tee and heart pajama pants. “What am I wearing?” You pinched at your clothes. “Kids!” A gruff voice was heard behind the doors. “Oh shoot!” Mable looked around the room. “Where do we hide?” Dipper whispered, his eyes darting under the bed. “Go under the bed!” Dipper said, diving straight under. “Please don’t tell Grunkle Stan that we’re here!” She pleaded. “Uhm, yeah?” She beamed and hid right under the bed. In an instant, the door was pushed open and your eyes locked on your brothers. Your brain processed it for a moment, wait… “Stanley, Stanford?!” A gasp leaves Ford. “Why are you awake! You’re supposed to be resting.” Ford scolded. You didn’t pay attention to Ford’s scolding, wrapped up in the moment of seeing your twin brothers living and breathing right in front of you. “Are you guys real?” You try to blink away the tears that were obstructing your view. “Of course we are silly.” Stan laughed, sitting down on the bed right next to you and wrapping you in a side hug. “Stan…” You cried. You had spent countless nights, shouldering the knowledge that you weren’t going to see your brothers ever again. That haunted you every single day from the moment you woke up to the minute you went to sleep. Here you are, proven wrong for once in your life. And it feels so good to be held by Stan again, feels so good to have a familiar feeling wash into your senses again. “How?” You ask, peeling yourself away from Stan’s shoulder, wiping the tears away. “We just kept trying and trying.” Ford told you, a somber smile on his lips. “Oh, Ford. Come here!” You grab his wrist and tug him into the bed. The action caused you to drag and flop all of them on the bed with you. Tearful laughter erupts in the room. “I apologize for the scare earlier,” You say, your hand pressing against your side. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” Stan said. “No, really.” You begin to unwrap the gauze around your waist, ignoring Ford and Stan’s protest. “I heal quickly.” You point to your already sealed up gash. The only thing left to prove that you were injured was the thin scar that spread across. Ford gawks in awe. “You need to tell me an in depth story detailing every single thing you have been doing for the past thirty years.” Ford said with so much seriousness you laughed. “Bu-but you passed out. Ford said it was from blood loss!” 

✶ “I only passed out because my body needs to shut down momentarily to heal up my wounds.” You tell him matter of factly. “Oh, great. Now we have another snobby nerd.” Stan joked. “Oh, stop it! You are too, considering you fixed the portal alongside with Mr. Branic over here.” You jabbed a thumb over to Ford who yelled out, “Hey!” in offense. “Hello family!” Mable popped out from under the bed. The three of you screamed loudly in fear, clutching each other. “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you guys!” She helped Dipper out from under the bed. “I just wanted to say that you guys are so adorable!” She squealed, pouncing onto the bed. “I can’t believe I have a Great Aunt/Grunkle who has traveled throughout dimensions. Isn’t that so cool?” She kicked her feet in excitement. “What kinds of monsters did you see out there?” Dipper asked, climbing onto the bed and settling himself between you, Ford and Stan. “A lot.” You respond with a smile. “I never caught your brother's name.” You say, booping Dipper’s nose. “His name is Dipper!” Mable pulls him close to her, cheek to cheek. “We’re twins.” She mentioned. “So it runs in the family, huh?” You elbow the two sets of other twins you had the misfortune to partially grow up with. “Guess so,” Stan smiled. “Let’s play a get to know each other game.” Mable offered. Everyone surprisingly agreed. “Okay, let’s start with Great Aunt/Grunkle [Name]. Tell us about yourself.” The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with the family and when the game was over, the twins had left, leaving you with Stan and Ford. “Thank you guys for not giving up on me.” You say into the hug. “We’re family! How could we ever abandon you?” Ford replies. An awkward cough emitted from you and Stan looked off to the side. “Oh.” The last thirty years had been rough, for you and the twins, but it was nice knowing that it ended with the three of you once again reunited at last. 

IT'S DONNE, and again if you guys want more i'll write more but till then i think this concludes word/insured YIPPIE

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or comment! <3

[m1ckeyb3rry]

i’m so excited for your request event eek!! :DDD if you ever get the time, maybe micheal kaiser, but like post marriage? :O

── AIRPORT VISIT

Synopsis: You pick up your husband from the airport, finally reuniting with him after his long trip abroad.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: married couple, lots of banter, talks about insurance??, kaiser hates blue lock but he has to secure the bag i fear 😔, probably ooc because this is an established relationship so he’s kind of sweet…consider it off screen development LMAO

A/N: hello my dear i’m so sorry this took me a sec to respond to!! kaiser is such a funky guy hehe i tried my best writing him in this type of scenario…i hope you like it 💖

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own. now closed!

The airport was colder than you had expected, and you wrapped the sweater you had stolen from Michael’s closet tighter around your shoulders, hiding the lower half of your face in it as you stared at the customs area. Your eyelids were heavy and threatened to droop shut entirely, but you had promised that you would come pick him up, and you didn’t want his first sight of you after almost a month to be you dozing off on your feet.

Shuffling over to a bench and suppressing a yawn when you realized it might still be a bit of time before he came out, you tucked your legs up next to you and leaned your head against the cool white wall beside you. Given the late hour, the airport was all but deserted, or at least as close to deserted as a place so constantly active could be. The steady drone of the air conditioning — which you wished they would turn down! — was mind-numbing, and despite yourself, you thought that it wouldn’t be so bad if you just closed your eyes for a moment. You wouldn’t sleep, you would only rest them so that you appeared cheery and bright when Michael finally arrived…

The next thing you knew, there was a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently awake. You shot to your feet, panic shooting through you at the thought that you were being attacked or something, but when you realized your ‘assailant’ was none other than your dear husband, who you had spent hours waiting for, you relaxed.

“You should’ve just stayed home,” he said, clicking his tongue at you, reaching out to ruffle your hair. His bags sat by his feet, and yawning, you picked one up. “Hey, is that my sweater?”

“Mhm,” you said as you traipsed towards where you had parked your car. “I like this one. I can’t believe I haven’t taken it before.”

He made a face at you. “Stop stealing my clothes.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from taking my things, if you’re bristling at the unfairness,” you said, unlocking the car and opening the trunk, helping him heft his things into the back to hasten the process.

“No thanks. Your clothes are ugly; that’s why you always have to take mine, right?” he said, pressing the button so that the trunk would shut. You yawned again, blinking your eyes open and shut a few times to clear your vision, shaking your head as you did so.

“You’re the one who buys half of them, so what does that say about your taste?” you said. “Yours are just more comfortable.”

“I can start buying you men’s clothes instead, since you insist on wearing them all of the time,” he said, snatching the keys from out of your pocket and sliding into the driver’s side before you could protest.

“Well, but it’s not the same,” you said. “Also, what are you doing? The whole point of me coming to pick you up was so that you didn’t have to drive and all. Aren’t you tired?”

“I just slept for an entire plane ride,” he said. “I’m as energetic as Ness when he gets his hands on espresso. You, on the other hand, will probably crash this car if you’re allowed to drive it, and then we’d have to deal with insurance, so I’d really prefer it if you just get in the passenger seat and leave this to me, because our agent is a bitch.”

“She’s not that bad,” you said. 

“Every day that I don’t have to call her is a good day,” he said. “Now, are you coming, or should I just leave you here?”

You scoffed even as you ducked into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt. “You should’ve left me behind. I could’ve caught a ride with Ness. I’m sure he’d be less mean about it.”

“Ha, ha,” Michael said. “That was so funny. Did you recently update my will to make yourself my sole benefactor? Because if so, you’re in luck. I just died. Died of laughter. I’m dead now, which means you’re a rich woman, Mrs. Kaiser.”

“Shut up, you overdramatic oaf,” you said.

“You’re so rude to the man who just made you wealthy,” he said, taking your hand and holding it to his lips as he pulled out of the airport parking lot. “I’m worth more than Ness. Don’t even joke about going with him again. He won’t give you anything when he dies. You’ll be left broke and unhappy.”

“Right, because your net worth is why I agreed to marry you,” you said. “No other reason.”

“That combined with my good looks and my amazing talent, I’m sure,” he said.

“Your humility was only a bonus,” you said. He dropped your hand and shot you a mock glare.

“Just remember who’s in control of this car! What if I crash it? Then you’ll regret everything!” he said.

“You’ll regret it more,” you said. “I’ll make you call the insurance agent.”

“What if I’m on my deathbed?” he said. “What if I’m bleeding out at the scene of the crash? What would you do then, huh?”

“I’d use your phone to call an ambulance, and I’d use mine to call the agent so that you could talk to her while we waited for help to come,” you said.

“Wow,” he muttered. “Cold. We haven’t seen each other in a month and this is how you’re treating me.”

“I did miss you,” you said, resting your temple against the cool glass of the window. “I wish you didn’t have to go all of the way to Japan every year to help out with that program.”

He sighed. “Believe me, if they paid even a dollar less, I wouldn’t. I hate those stupid Blue Lock bastards, and every time I have to interact with them, I lose ten years off of my lifespan. ”

“Oh, no,” you said. “Remind me when you’re about to run out completely. I’ll update your will, just in case.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpanned.

“Really, though, is there anyone you don’t complain about talking to?” you said. “At this rate, you’re not going to have very many years left at all. Will you leave me a widow so soon?”

He gave you a charming grin. “I like talking to you. That’s why I married you.

“Did those Blue Lock boys teach you about this kind of thing alongside soccer?” you said. “I don’t remember you being quite so smooth when you left. Was it Yoichi Isagi? You mentioned him a lot in your texts.”

“Y/N,” Michael said gravely. “I would strip naked, swim in a vat of acid, and then sleep with Don Lorenzo on a bed of nails before I would ever take advice from Isagi.”

“Poor Lorenzo,” you said, laughing at the mental image of what he was describing. “Why’d you throw him under the bus like that?”

“We took the same plane back from Japan,” he explained. “He had a layover here, so you could say he’s just a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Jeez,” you said. “Alright, I get it. You just thought about me so frequently and fondly that you came up with these lines all on your own.”

“Exactly,” he said smugly. “I don’t need stupid Isagi to tell me how to impress you. Only I know how to do that, anyways, so why would I ask someone else for help?”

“Sorry for the suggestion,” you said as he pulled into the garage of our home. “And thank you for driving. If only your flight had been a little bit earlier! I really would have driven you back.”

“Next time,” he said, patting your head as he helped you out of the car. “Or I can call a taxi and you can just stay home from now on, so that neither of us are inconvenienced.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” you said with a pout, helping him bring his things inside. He smiled slightly, kissing your forehead with the utmost of delicacy.

“Just you being here is nice enough for me,” he said. “Don’t put yourself through so much trouble, okay? The knowledge that you’re waiting at home for me makes me happier than anything else ever could.”

“Okay,” you said reluctantly. “If you say so.”

“I do,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed now, alright?”

“You, too,” you said.

“I will, but on one condition,” he said.

“What?” you said.

“You take my sweater off,” he said. “It’s mine, seriously!”

“Looks like you’re sleeping on the sofa tonight, then,” you said.

“Y/N,” he whined, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You have me now. Aren’t I much warmer and better than a sweater?”

“Hm,” you said. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he said. “Fine. I guess I’ll just see myself back to Japan, then.”

“Don’t do that,” you said. “It’s too cold without you here, and lonely, too. I’ll even take the sweater off if you’ll stay.”

“You’re so unfair,” he said. “How am I supposed to say no to you? You can keep the stupid sweater.”

“And you?” you said. He pinched your cheek affectionately.

“I suppose you can keep me, too.”

[grison-in-space]

So how long did it end up taking for the tow truck to show up? Did you beat South Korea’s overturn of martial law?

ha, I drafted a post to respond to that last night and then fell over (it turns out that sitting for 3hrs in an unheated car during MN december is pretty exhausting).

honestly it probably took as long as the South Koreans, maybe a little longer, but fortunately not that long. No more than 3h, definitely no less than 2h 15m. the tow man arrived just as the last few board members were wiggling over fences, but the vote had gone through by the time I was settled in his cab on the way to the dealership where I bought the car three fucking weeks ago for diagnostics and repair.

we lost a little time when the tow man asked in some despair if Matilda could ride in the car being towed. I noted that if it was safe for her to do that I would like to do that as well, and he sloped off to carve her out a little room in the snack detritus of his back seat. (He asked that she not eat his snacks. Matilda's commitment to professionalism is sufficiently absolute that she once successfully convinced a trainer who had known her from ten weeks that she didn't have fun and play games--she just doesn't play games when she has Job going on. Frankly, she didn't even look particularly interested in snacks or the cab, just focused on me and what I might ask her to do next. I was very proud.)

as for what happened, turns out that car manufacturers have installed anti-siphoning technology into the fuel tank entry point, so now gas siphoners just drill into your fucking gas tank to steal a gallon of gas instead. :) $1800 for a new tank, and I hadn't got the insurance on my new car yet. not ideal. fortunately the insurance were happy to backdate it as long as I showed them the bill of sale. I would like to ask the universe, as always, what the fuck is wrong with it.

more gushing about my very professional little dog under very trying circumstances under the cut.

see, I had never ridden in a tow truck cab before, so what I learned is that this one at least had two steep steps up to the actual seat. Tilly, whose usual habit is to hop into the driver's side and climb over the console to her usual spot where I can buckle her in, saw that and froze a little--understandably--so I hoisted her up. Unfortunately, we are in Minnesota and it is December, and the Manitobahs I was wearing have many strengths but grippiness is not really one of them. I slipped a little, and she.... handled it like a pro and was even able to negotiate getting down from the cab by herself safely, with me ready to catch her, on cue.

Then she came into the dealership with me to sort out telling people where the car was and getting it taken in for service, during which she sat politely and waited for a pretty long period of time getting it checked out. We eventually got a lift home and a Culver's trip on the way, and she got a whole fry she absolutely earned.

I am again very proud of her. She's handled objectively unexpected and horrible days in our life politely, professionally, and causing the minimum disruption under some very trying circumstances.

Also, what the fuck is with my luck, and do need some kind of cleansing ritual or something here?

[zmediaoutlet]

was scrolling through your tags and saw "i wonder if he and dean argue abt gas money" and i feel like dean is in charge of their finances. like maybe there's more to be said about that topic like winchester money or lack there of, that maybe you have opinions about? i'd love to hear them.

love your writing, btw ❤️

Dean is definitely in charge of their finances, altho what "finances" means in the era of "we know how to hack credit agencies" is a little fuzzy. (Someone pointed out a laptop screenshot where Dean emails Sam and says that Sam "owes him gas money", which is both a) endearingly dumb and in character, and also b) YOU SHARE MONEY, DORK. THERE IS NO MONEY. [Dean: "It's the principle!" me: I repeat, dork.])

Winchester money is an interesting one! In the way-way back there was this big sprawly meta conversation about their interaction with class that really went all over the place, but what's interesting about it to me is that they are no-collar while coding blue-collar middle class. Like the old middle class, of limited debt and home ownership but still being on a modest salary and with modest tastes. Maybe a vacation once a year, etc. Not that that was their exact situation, but it's the social bracket they occupy. Note that Sam was desperate to get into the white-collar strata and really tried hard to play at that, especially in s1, but like a lot of the jumped-up masses he was more bougie nouveau riche than actually part of that set -- note how he couldn't order a glass of wine in Provenance (which happens to be one of my most hated scenes in the whole series, but that's not Sam's fault, lol). He makes fun of Dean's blue-to-no-collar tendencies but he's irrevocably part of them, and luckily he grows up mentally enough over the first few years that we don't get as much of that college kid crap, just home from school and making fun of Mom's casserole for not being what the kids in the city think is cool. You like the casserole, kid. Stop fronting.

But Winchesters-and-money really takes on a whole other valence because they're free of it. Like obviously in latter years once the credit cards get perfect (I guess that's as of the introduction of Frank and/or Charlie) it means nothing, and I'm glad of that bc we actually don't need to think about it, it's a solved problem. But when they're younger, there's the literal in-the-moment needs of food/gas money/clothes/where are we gonna sleep tonight, and they're very hand-to-mouth. But the way they're hand to mouth is like... fine. They don't have to worry about a mortgage. The Impala certainly does not have insurance, and neither do they have health insurance. There is no retirement account and there are no debt collectors knocking. They're free of the credit/financial system in a way almost no one else is, because they're also completely free to steal and pirate their way through life. Not least because it's the moral choice inside the textual universe -- they have to be free to save the day, so who cares if they're fucking over some random person's credit history.

It does a really interesting thing to their characterization. They're not stuck in the backbreaking poverty of e.g. the characters in Shameless. They aren't struggling to pay bills because they don't have bills. There's in-the-moment urgency but once that moment has passed and there's food in their bellies and gas in the car and Sam's got a new pair of shoes without a hole -- they don't really have to think about it the way most would. It's almost more of an aesthetic than it is a foundational shaping. That said, you do have to solve those moments as they come because there's no savings cushion, either, so either you get the new cards from the PO box or you figure out how to scam someone or you, you know. Do whatever else Dean might've done, to make sure there was food on the table.

[loopspoop]

………

Once Jigen put the cushions back in their places, Goemon and Zenigata helped Lupin back onto the couch. He had been fighting both of them the whole time, but now he was fighting even more, trying to get free from their grasps so that he could get back what he stole. It was a struggle to even get him to sit down on the couch, but after a few minutes they did manage to get him calm enough to do at least that.

He fought less against Goemon's grip, so Zenigata got up from the couch and joined by Jigen. Mostly because of Lupin, but partially because of Jigen too. He squatted on the floor in front of Lupin to attempt to match his height.

Lupin glared daggers at him, but Zenigata was far more worried at the small bits of blood coming from Lupin's head.

Goemon spoke first, barely audible, “Why did you steal from us?”

……..

How could he answer a question like that? It was almost accusatory, but not in the way he would've expected. The emphasis was far less on the ‘why he stole,’ but far heavier on the ‘why us’. He wasn't even sure why he did it. He knew it was to escape or for insurance to escape later or gain some advantage. But why did he feel the need to run away so badly? Other than the ever growing creep of extreme claustrophobia or the neverending fog of numbness, there was little else. Just something in his mind that told him to. Desperately screaming every second that he wasn't finding a way out of the situation, or better yet finding a solution to fix it altogether. No matter the solution or escape. He pushed the thoughts away again.

He needed to get the things back from them. But now they knew he was after them.

“I just felt like doing it,” a weak excuse, and he knew not one of them bought it.

The man with the beard scoffed at his answer, “I call BS on that. You've always had some reason to steal stuff,” the man next to him slapped him on the shoulder as if to tell him to shut up.

“You stole our car keys. Were you planning on driving somewhere?” The quiet one was still holding onto his arm, as if he was going to bolt at any given moment.

What a stupid question. Why else would he have stolen the keys? Of course he was going to drive somewhere. He was going to drive anywhere to get away from here, the questions, the stares, the fog, and worst of all the feeling of being trapped in a cage shrinking in size with every moment that he stayed. If he could just go somewhere to think for a while. To remember even the smallest thing.

He felt his lungs itching from the inside out.

“No.”

“Then why did you take ‘em?” it was the other man again, this time sitting down in the nearby chair.

He hesitated in answering, “Just in case.”

The man in front of him questioned, “Is that why you took the gun too?”

He looked away from them and at the window. He felt the air around him fill with anxiety.

The man asked again, “Why did you take it?”

It became extraordinarily quiet in the room. He could tell what they were thinking. He wanted to tell them it was just to get away. Just a bit of insurance. Not that he was sure he could even tell them that. But he KNEW he couldn't tell them what had been running through his mind. He couldn't tell himself what had been running through his mind. He completely refused to believe it up until this moment. The temptation. The neverending feeling of just wanting all of it to stop. Wanting to just remember everything magically like nothing happened. But when that didn't happen he felt so completely hopeless, so trapped and claustrophobic. To the point where it felt like the only way to get away from everything, when they kept him from escaping, giving him no other ways out. And that's why he held onto it.

He was so ashamed of even thinking like that. Taking the easy way out and not considering anything more. There was always a plan, it always worked out. Something in the back of his mind told him that. But he couldn't see those plans anymore, he was tired and his mind was too broken.

But he recalled much of the logic that had made appearances in his thoughts throughout the night. The memories of his failures. His inability to do even the simplest of tasks. The fact that he couldn't remember anything even still. Even after trying to break his own head open again in the hope that maybe, just maybe, something would spill out. The vague feeling of a memory of being abandoned. He was just giving them what they wanted right?

He thought of all the questions he kept being bombarded by. All of them useless. And everytime the others looked anywhere near him he saw the same look of pity on their faces. He was not a thing to be pitied. But he pitied himself.

If he had just tried harder, he could've remembered everything by now, or worked around it so no one would've ever noticed. And his injuries too, he could've hidden well enough too. If he had only tried.

None of it was right. He knew that. And yet it refused to silence. Instead twirling around and around in his mind, tightening until he couldn't help but listen. Until there was nothing else he could think about. And too tight to fight back against. He tried, but fighting it only tangled it more and made it even louder.

He was pathetic. And the thoughts only made that more true. He couldn't push them away anymore. He was nothing. But he couldn't tell them that. So he stayed silent and looked down at the couch.

……….

They watched him for a few minutes before accepting the silence as his answer. Each one tried to prompt him to answer once more, but he only stared down at the couch. They had received their answer.

Zenigata tried asking if it was for any specific purpose, be it escape, intimidation, a tool, anything except one. But Lupin refused to answer any of them, only confirming their worries more.

Zenigata pulled Jigen into the kitchen to talk, while Goemon sat with Lupin.

Jigen was already able to tell what Zenigata was thinking, less because he could see it, and more because it was exactly what he had been thinking.

“He's not stupid. He wouldn't ever do that.”

“Jigen, he's not really him right now.”

Jigen punched the counter, “I don't care! He wouldn't ever do that!”

“We're going to need to keep an eye on him for a while. Twenty four seven. And lock up that stuff somehow.”

“Tch, that won't stop him and you know it,” Jigen was already pulling out a fresh pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

“That's why we're watching him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”

“He's not going to do anything stupid! He's better than that!”

……….

🥺 poor Lupin

[gemsofgreece]

Today something happened that I would like to talk about, because it reminded me how meaningless stereotypes are and how you don’t have to believe people with a self-placed badge of honour on their shirt.

We had a car crash. The responsibility was of the other car, rented by a family of seemingly put together tourists from a rich small Western European country that is considered like the heart of civilised West Europe (being vague but not really).

While we were waiting, a woman and a man ran to all of us, and because we were all a bit lost, they called the police for us and offered again and again to call an ambulance. They also offered to buy us water but we all refused, except we thanked them and told them to go home without worries. The others said nothing.

A little later a motorcyclist passed by, he gave us some advice and asked if we wanted water. This time my mother admitted she needed some and he left. He returned soon with bottles of water for us and the tourists. He tried to offer water bottles to the tourist kids but they were too distrustful. The adults took them. We all thanked him except I tried to give him the money and they did not. He did not accept it and said he just did the bare minimum.

The tourists “politely” tried to question that their responsibility was theirs. They did not look at us once, except maybe stealing some glances, and they did not bother apologising of course.

They, the notoriously environmentally conscious Europeans, drank the water that good man gave them and littered some poor person’s house by leaving the empty bottles on the window! I was about to tell them “they forgot their bottles” but they were quickly getting back into the rented car. The insurance representative, a super positive and pleasant man, commented that he had lived in big very disciplined Central European country next to that of the tourists, and these types of people there would straight out call the police on you for leaving your trash in a random place, but when they go on a foreign country or one they deem “inferior” like Greece, they are the first to unapologetically dump their trash anywhere they want like literally in other people’s properties.

A man who is an acquaintance passed by and was insisting to go back to his place and make us fresh juice as we were waiting for the insurance to be done with the report under this sizzling afternoon sun. We convinced him we were okay and we would soon be done.

Once we were done, the tourists took their kids from an internet cafe nearby, where I am willing to bet the cafe did not ask for a fee and they did not offer anything as a thanks. They took the kids, they left the bottles in the poor person’s house, they said no other word to the insurance guy and they did not near as looked at us of course. The car was rented, so the insurance company will pay for everything and they will go about their vacation without any repercussion whatsoever and without as much as an apologetic smile.

A relative learnt about it and came join us as we were waiting for the insurance report to be done. Then my relative chased the insurance guy to give him a tip, for being a pleasant and patient man working under this ruthless sun. The man refused, saying he was doing his job, but my relative put the money on his hand anyway.

I am saying all this, not to trash on anyone as a whole, but to show you how stereotypes mean nothing. I met a lot of lovely Greeks today and a bunch of civilised west European assholes. Honestly it’s like there was no emotion inside them except for suppressed anger or maybe, hopefully, a bit of concealed embarrassment. They did not even ask us if we were okay. Anyway faith in my country a little restored. Even before the accident, I just so happened to stumble onto many super helpful and caring people today. At least on that aspect, it was a day that made you feel you can hope.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Annual Salaries

So, like ... I get the whole "fiduciary duty to shareholders" thing. At least partially because that's the whole deal my mother always talks about when I mention the absurdity of the whole ... you know... *gestures vagely at late stage capitalism*. I mean, at least she flags up things like how many people's pensions are tied up in the whole shares thing. I still think they take it way too far in terms of fiduciary duty to shareholders, but I understand it. Sort of. Ish. Intellectually. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

But there's one thing you're never going to convince me is okay, and that is the fact that the CEOs of these companies - you know, the ones who lay off hundreds of people to make the profit margins look bigger because fiduciary duty to shareholders - take home seven- or eight-figure salaries. For all the bullshit people talk about how most of these people's worth is on paper rather than liquid, we're talking annual salary here. This particular fact? All it leaves me with is questions. Like:

We're talking 7-8 figures annually, so what the fuck are you doing to spend tens of millions of dollars per year?!? How do you spend that much money? What could you possibly spend that much money on that you need more tens of millions the following year? How is that possible?

What exactly do they do to earn that much money? If the worker is worth the hire, what exactly are they doing that's worth tens of millions annually? Now, you could say "ensuring their fiduciary duty to shareholders is met", but they're not even the ones who are figuring out the best ways to reduce the fiduciary duty to shareholders; they have middle management to do most of the figuring out, and those guys only (heh; 'only') make six figures annually, while the CEO makes tens of millions by ... picking one. They're giving themselves that much money per year for the equivalent of ordering at the McDonalds drive-through.

I swear to the gods, it's like the money really is nothing more than a way of keeping score. The profits thing is sickening, but understandable if you grit your teeth and accept, for now, that companies are legally required to screw over employees and customers alike in the name of "fiduciary duty to shareholders", or else they are literally seen as stealing from the shareholders. But ... the annual salaries. I mean. Come on. Tens of millions per year. And by the Vimes "Boots" Theory of Socio-Economic Unfairness, they shouldn't have to spend that much. They can afford a house, and probably have one (hell, they probably have several at this point), so no rent. Then can afford the good insurance, so no being financially wiped out in the event of illness or injury. Hell, they can afford the healthy food that so many people can't, and to heat their homes properly, and so probably aren't getting as sick in the first place. They have probably never really met a financially crippling car repair bill, either because they can afford to replace stuff before it falls apart completely or because they just replace the whole damn car whenever they feel like. They're not beholden on "fast fashion" (read - stuff put together in sweatshops in countries with few to no labour laws and sold for a halfway affordable price at Target or Primark or wherever), so their clothes and shoes aren't falling apart after a couple of months of wear. And none of that - none of the things that so many of us feel fortunate if we happen to have it, and so few of us actually do - even makes a dent in their yearly take-home pay.

They're fucking dragons. That's all there is to it. So many of us love the idea of dragons on hoards other than money, but we have dragons, and they're ... just ... asshole humans with way too much fucking money.

So I know why they don't take a salary cut instead of tanking the lives of hundreds of people by laying them off (and making the lives of the remaining people worse as they're forced to pick up the slack or join their friends in the unemployment queue). But it fucking disgusts me, all the same. Money exists to be used, not to be sat on by rich assholes. I mean, so many people work their asses off and barely earn enough to stay alive in this economy, and these guys get paid more than anyone could reasonably spend sitting on their asses, harrassing and abusing their workers, and listening to advice on who to fire to make their profit numbers look better.

I know there are some lovely things about the world, and some lovely people in it. But dear gods, the rot is so very visible.

[ultimatedreamer104]

pjo/hoo characters as things i have overheard in conversations or just found on the internet ( inspiration: @icankillyouwithashoe ) !*slight spoilers*!

Jason while floating: butterfly in the sky I can fly oh so high~

┌⁠(⁠・⁠。⁠・⁠)⁠┘⁠♪

Annabeth talking to Percy: Three words. Say them and I'm yours.

Percy: ... ... three words

ಠ⁠_⁠ʖ⁠ಠ

Hazel to Leo : leo, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power!

Leo while on fire: Well of course I have.

Leo, as a tree catches fire: Have you ever tried going mad without power?

Leo as the whole camp is now on fire: It's boring.

ᕙ⁠(͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠ᕗ

Leo apologizing to charon for setting the camp on fire: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

🔥🔥🔥

Percy: Hey Jason,

Jason: Yes?

Percy: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Jason:

Jason: Where’s annabeth?

ಠ⁠ಗ⁠ಠ

Nico: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Jason: Wasn't will with you?

Will: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Grover, about annabeth: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Luke: Are we stealing them?

Thalia: New or used?

Grover: Wonderful responses, both of you.

ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

Percy, setting down a card: Ace of spades

Nico, pulling out an Uno card: +4

Leo, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you

Frank, trembling: What are we playing?

༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

(I feel like this one could work for will and Nico too)

Piper: Why are Percy and annabeth sitting with their backs to each other?

Grover: They had a fight.

Piper: Then why are they holding hands?

Grover: They get sad when they fight

(⁠˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘⁠)

Nico: Self care is actually getting into fights with randoms in dark alleys.

Piper: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap!

Leo: Self care is the burning heat when your on fire!

Hazel: self care is taking your birthday cake just so I can eat the frosting.

Percy: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

ಠ⁠ ⁠೧⁠ ⁠ಠ

Annabeth: Anyone d-

Nico: Depressed?

Frank: Drained?

Percy: Dumb?

Piper: Disliked?

Annabeth: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people ...

ಠ⁠,⁠_ಠ

Hazel: Piper... How do I begin to explain Piper?

Percy: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000.

Jason: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

Drew while under charm: piper is flawless.

Leo: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan.

(⁠・⁠o⁠・⁠)

Annabeth: We need to distract these guys

Leo and percy: Leave it to us

Leo and percy: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Nico, hazel, and frank: *Immediately begin arguing*

Jason walking into scene, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

(⁠‘⁠◉⁠⌓⁠◉⁠’⁠)

Leo: I love the term 'partners'. Are we dating? Are we robbing a bank? Are we the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies and are members of an elite squad known as the special victims unit? Who knows.

Piper staring at Leo: I meant on the group project...

ರ⁠_⁠ರ

Frank laying on the ground with a big bruise on his forehead: The risk I took was calculated but, man, am I bad at math.

(⁠●⁠_⁠_⁠●⁠)

Nico opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

┐⁠(⁠ ⁠∵⁠ ⁠)⁠┌

Percy: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

¯⁠\⁠_⁠༼⁠ ⁠ಥ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠ಥ⁠ ⁠༽⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Leo: Hello, I'm leo. I work at a shop now. Here to help. Look, they gave me a badge with my name on it in case I forget it. Very helpful, as that does happen.

ಠ⁠◡⁠ಠ

Luke: I have yet to encounter a problem where a sword didn't factor into the solution at least in some way.

•==|---------->

*leo is ordering a cake over the (monster proof)phone*

Shop Employee: …and what would you like your cake to say?

Leo, covering the phone to look at The Squad: Do we want a talking cake?

ಠ⁠∀⁠ಠ

Will: Why are you like this??

Nico: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

[mikasimaginairyworld]

The Umbrella Academy: Firecracker - Man on the Moon (4/30)

Umbrella Academy Masterlist

warnings: violence (torture), blood, substances (alcohol and pills)

word count: 3571

"Where is Number Five?", Cha-Cha asked for the fifth time, pulling even harder at the wire that was choking Klaus.

"Don't... stop... I'm almost there...", Klaus moaned.

Cha-Cha looked down on his lap confused: "Is that a...?"

"Yep.", Hazel confirmed. Disgusted Cha-Cha let go of Klaus. 

"Nothing like a little strangulation to get the blood flowing!", Klaus said coughing and grunting from the lack of air and chuckled. 

"What's so funny, asshole?", Hazel slapped his head. Klaus laughed cheerfully: "What's funny is... for one... you spend the last ten hours beating me senseless and you learned absolutely nothing. I mean, nobody tells me shit. The truth is, I'm the one person in that house nobody will even notice is gone. You assholes kidnapped the wrong guy!"

Hazel slapped Klaus again: "Please make him stop talking!"

Klaus had been kidnapped and beaten up by Hazel right before the man had escaped the academy in hopes of getting some information on Five's whereabouts. Well, Cha-Cha and Hazel were in for a huge disappointment.

 

Doctor Lance cheerfully walked up to his car and got it. He sensed that this day was going to be a great day. Unfortunately right as he was about to drive away Five blitzed on the passenger's seat. Five quickly leaned towards him and pressed a knife to his throat.

"One chance. That's all you've got. One chance to tell me exactly what's going on in that lab.", he threatened. 

"I manufacture prosthetic devices for fake patients. I bill the insurance companies and then sell them for cash on the black market.", the doctor stuttered.

"Including eyeballs?"

"Yeah, they're my biggest seller. I mean, they sell like hotcakes. I've got a list - a waiting list - probably 20 buyers."

"So the serial number told you..."

"Could've already been bought, yes. Off the books."

Five sighed heavily: "I needed that list, Lance. Names and numbers, and I need it now!"

​​​​​​​"I don't have it! At least not on me. The only copy's in my safe at the lab."

"Well, you start the car then. We're going on a field trip."

Luther had been looking all over for Five but with no avail. Heavy steps came closer and closer to Five's old room until Luther's huge paw slowly pushed the door open. Looking into the simple decorated room he saw a figure splayed out on Five's bed. Going  inside the room he scanned its contents. Bloody bandages and towels were splayed across the floor. Upon further inspection the figure on Five's bed turned out to be Nailah who was completely blacked out. 

Her dark curls were dangling in all directions, covering her eyes and half her face. She was laying there in only her underwear and a huge shirt covering nearly her whole body. Luther grunted amused when he recognised the shirt as the one he had been missing for some days. A lukewarm feeling spread in his stomach when he remembered Nailah's habit of stealing his shirts to sleep in them. Luther's face crinkled when he saw the whiskey bottle Nailah was hugging. It was empty. 

Luther groaned silently but quietly knelt down and began inspecting Five's drawers hoping to find any clue  to where he might be.

"Number Five hasn't lived in this room since he was a boy, Master Luther.", Pogo said from the door and came inside scanning Nailah's sleeping figure. 

"Yes, I know. But we need to warn him. He doesn't know that we've been attacked. He doesn't know they're looking for him. He doesn't know...", Luther said not stopping his search. 

"What are you doing here?", Diego asked sharply. The brothers started each other down for a second. Diego's eyes darted to Nailah and the corners of his lips twitched upwards for a second.

"Do you know about mom?", Luther asked shyly referring to when he and Allison had found Grace shut off this morning.

"It looks like you've got what you wanted after all.", Diego said from gritted teeth.

"Wanna tell me what you're doing here?", Luther asked continuing looking around the room.

"Looking for Five.", Diego answered scanning the wall.

"Let me guess, you're gonna save the day.", Luther scoffed fishing the empty whiskey bottle from Nailah's arms and smelling it. He put it next to the bed with a disgusted expression.

"It's what I do. Asshole.", Diego said getting ready to leave the room. 

"Really? Last time I checked you mopped floors.", Luther commented inspecting Five's desk. Diego paused in the doorframe. 

​​​​​​​"And what do you do?", he asked turning around to face Luther and Pogo. ​​​​​​​"Sit on the moon for four years, waiting for orders?"

"Boys, this won't help us find Five.", Pogo tried to intervene.

"Keep on being a loyal soldier after everything our father did to you.", Diego ignored Pogo.

"What? You mean save my life?", Luther asked approaching Diego. Nailah mumbled and incoherent phrase in her sleep.

"No, I mean turn you into a monster.", Diego leaned against Five's wardrobe.

Luther's eyes darkened. His arm jerked forward and punched a hole into the wardrobe. Diego didn't even flinch but Nailah jumped up with a little shriek, her hair falling in front of her face in dark waves. Pogo sighed heavily.

"Can't hide it anymore, champ.", Diego smiled viscously.

​​​​​​​"He had a difficult decision to make and he made it.", Luther said with pain on his eyes. Nailah groaned loudly pulling her wild locks into a a bun. The few strands she didn't catch hung loosely framing her face. 

"Grow up, Luther. We're not 13 anymore.", Diego groaned while Nailah rubbed her face aggressively.

"That's what leaders do, by the way.", Luther countered. Behind him, Nailah took the bottle from the ground and tried to empty the last few drops before Pogo took it out of her hands.

"He send you on that mission all along. Almost got you killed.", Diego reasoned while Nailah threw Pogo an annoyed glance before turning her attention to her brothers.

​​​​​​​"Yeah, well at least he was there. Where were you? You and everyone else in this family? You walked out.", Luther said bitterly.

​​​​​​​"And thank Christ I did or I would've ended up just like you. Let me ask you a question. When you watch one of these nature shows, does. it turn you on?"

"Diego, please!", Pogo tried to intervene again but got ignored.

"So what? Is he just an animal to you too, Diego?", Luther pointed at Pogo.

"Enough.", Pogo said in a tone that even had Nailah straighten her back. "This house was attacked. We barely got out with our lives. And Grace... she wasn't so lucky." Nailah's eyes widened through the hangover fearing the worst. She looked at her brothers who only looked away. Nailah exhaled deeply.

"Your brother is missing and this is how you rise to the occasion? Take your nonsense elsewhere. And take your sister with you before she drinks herself to death. Now.", Pogo continued. 

Luther and Diego apologised silently taking Nailah by an arm and pulling her with them out of the room. 

​​​​​​​"You've got any clothes around here?", Diego asked scanning Nailah's bare legs in brith yellow socks.

"In my room.", she mumbled and the trio made their way to small bedroom next to Diego's. While Luther went to the kitchen to get some water and aspirin Diego waited for Nailah to get dressed. He scanned the room that was full of opposites. Tons of opened and unopened books were laying around accompanied by various dance and jogging attire. Language guides, dictionaries and lots of science magazines were scattered around the whole room. Above the headboard a severely overused and discoloured pair of ballet shoes were hanging by their ribbons. 

"You still dance?", Diego asked. "Occasionally. Don't really have the time anymore.", Nailah shrugged pulling a fresh dark green cropped sweater over her head.

"What with all that sleeping in a pod crap?", Diego snickered.

"You can laugh all you want but it works. Just look at me and then look at ... well... you.", Nailah countered putting on a pair of surprisingly well preserved red converse. Diego chuckled lightly. 

"There you go.", Luther handed Nailah the water and she drowned it immediately.

"Where do you think Five went?", Diego asked Luther. The brothers began arguing again. about where would be the best place to start looking.

"We could start at the car.", Nailah suggested while packing up some notebooks into a bag.

"What car?", Diego asked confused.

"The one where Luther found us yesterday. It's still there, come on let's go.", Nailah said walking out the door and grabbing the sunglasses on from her vanity.

Confused Luther and Diego followed her.

"Maybe you're not hitting him hard enough?", Klaus heard Hazel ask Cha-Cha who just scoffed at the comment clearly taking offence. 

​​​​​​​"Me? You're the one with the stupid orthopaedic bracelet."

​​​​​​​"I told you already. It's just for support."

​​​​​​​"Withdrawal. I'd staring already. Otherwise who's the dead babushka?", Ben asked Klaus who just glared at the old woman mumbling in Russian by the window. 

"I don't know but it's driving me crazy. The bitch won't shut up!", Klaus sighed and ignored Hazel's orders to keep looking forward.

Suddenly Cha-Cha and Hazel faced Klaus again, this time with his coat in their hands.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. What are you doing? That's mine. That's my personal. stuff!", he asked panicked.

One by one Cha-Cha pulled out various pills. As soon as Hazel realised how important they were to Klaus he began stomping on them, reducing them to powder. Klaus screamed in protest.

Ben ordered Klaus to be strong but as soon as Cha-Cha started swinging pills and cannabis-chocolate in front of him, they both knew hope was lost. 

​​​​​​​"I don't know where Five is, okay? I wasn't lying about that. But I can tell you that hasn't... hasn't been making any sense since he came back.", Klaus began with tears in his eyes.

"Elaborate.", Hazel ordered.

"I... uh.. it's just he's been acting like a... like a lunatic. He's been sitting in his van in front of a lab or something and looking for the owner of an eyeball. One of those fake ones."

"That makes no sense.", Hazel sighed annoyed.

"Hold on. Tell us more about this eye and why is it so important.", Cha-Cha interrupted. 

"He said. it had to do something with the end of times, or something like that.", Klaus choked out.

Cha-Cha and Hazel looked at each other and smiled.

Luther, Nailah and Diego soon found the place where they had left the van the day before. Luther frantically began to try to open the doors but they didn't bulge. Diego looked at him expectantly before taking over and picking the locks with his knifes in no time. He opened the door and the brothers tried to get past each other to get on the passenger's seat. "I'mOne.", Luther ended the struggle and Diego just rolled his eyes opening the backdoor before letting Nailah enter first not without a demonstrative bow. In her young body she reminded him of a little sister.

The siblings began searching the van. Suddenly Diego whistled. Nailah and Luther looked at him holding a book. It was Vanya's biography and the front page was covered in not only equations but a stamp from the Public Library of Argyle Public Library.

​​​​​​​"I think I know where to find Five."​​​​​​​, Diego announced proudly. 

"Great. I'll go run by my apartment real quick and I'll meet you there.", Nailah said and disappeared. Diego and Luther just shrugged and began making their way towards the other part of town.

Nailah arrived at the apartment panting heavily. She knew spending too much time in the pod could affect her physical performance but this was just a joke. She quickly disposed of her bag with the notebooks and went to the bathroom. There she first changed the dressing on her wound. Looking into the mirror she saw how the freckles that had usually covered her dark skin had paled. Probably from the exhaustion. She did look like shit. Huge eyebags under her tired eyes and her hair definitely needed a wash. She sighed heavily and put. her hair up in a tight ponytail hoping it would wake her up a bit. She splashed some icy water in her face then pulled out the bottle of vodka from under the sink she had hidden for emergencies. Taking huge sips she walked to the hidden door and after tapping in the code she went down the stairs to her lab. She checked on the stats of the pod. Oxygen, temperature, power. Everything was normal and ready for her to use. She took another huge sip from the bottle and promised herself this would be the last one. After all she couldn't go back into the pod drunk. She had to be squeaky clean. Closing the door behind her she grabbed a cap from the hanger and checked where the library was.

On her way there she spotted Allison and Vanya walk into a bar. Even though she wasn't particularly close with wither of her sister seeing them together having a good time send a sharp spike through her lungs. She wasn't jealous just sad. It had always been that way. Two of the sister together, never all of them. Always one left out.

Arriving at the library she quickly discovered were Luther and Diego were. She just followed their annoyed arguing voices.

​​​​​​​"You wanna know why I left?", Nailah heard Diego ask. She slipped behind bookshelves far enough. to not. be seen but close enough to hear the conversation. She knew everyone had their reasons to leave but she'd never bothered to ask.

"What? What are you talking about?", Luther asked coming closer to Diego.

​​​​​​​"Why I left the academy."

"Yeah, 'cause you couldn't handle me being Number One.", Luther answered.

"No. Because that's what you do when you're seventeen. You move out, become your own person, grow up."

"Oh yeah. You're a real grown-up.", Luther scoffed.

​​​​​​​"At least I make my own decisions. You've never had to hold down a job. Pay bills. You ever even been with a girl?", Diego know how. to push Luther's buttons. The giant looked at him confused and horrified. 

"I... ", he began. Nailah wanted to intervene to spare him embarrassment but a flash of plastic caught her eye. 

​​​​​​​"Look, you wanna blame me, blame us, for leaving that's okay. But maybe you're asking yourself the wrong question.", Diego's soft voice followed Nailah as she went to investigate where the plastic was. When she found it she sighed deeply and made her way back to her brothers.

​​​​​​​"Do you ever stop talking?", Luther asked right as Diego saw Nailah approach them. He send her a sceptical look seeing her in sunglasses again. Before he could comment on her state again she announced: "Come on you melodramatic morons. I've found our Number Five."

The she led them to where Five was lying passed out with Delores in one arm and a bottle of vodka in the other. "Is he uh...", Luther began.

"Drunk as a skunk.", Diego confirmed smiling while Nailah investigated the bottle.

Luther sighed heavily and picked up Five like a bride. Diego snickered at that and began gathering all of Five's notebooks into Five's duffle bag. Nailah emptied the rest of the bottle in a few huge sips.

"You really have a drinking problem, you know that?", Diego commented while Nailah picked up Delores with a disgusted expression.

Nailah send him a glare: "At least I acknowledge it."

"What's that supposed to mean?", Luther asked offended.

"Unresolved mommy issues and abandonment issues.", she just answered and made her way to the elevator not waiting for her brothers. 

Walking back the alcohol started to kick and and Nailah was enjoying the blissful rush in her blood.

"We can't go back to the house. It's not secure and those psychopaths could come back at any moment.", Luther suggested still carrying Five.

"My place is closer than Nailah's and no one will look for him there.", Diego offered as Five yawned waking up.

He looked at Luther confused who just warned him: "If you vomit on me..."

"You know what's funny? Ah! I'm going through puberty. Twice!", Five asked ignoring Diego's annoyed frown.

"You know I think I could help with that.", Nailah offered jumping over puddles.

"What? Puberty?"

​​​​​​​"Yeah. I've got my machine. If I can stop the aging process I can probably speed it up.  I could age you up a few years.", Nailah said giggling.

Five's eyes watered: "You would do that? Thank you!"

He then reflected and looked up again at Luther: "I drank that whole bottle didn't I?

"Not the whole. Nailah helped.", Luther growled.

"Where's Delores?", Five asked in a drunk panicked gurgle.

"She's here with me! We're getting to know each other. She really is a great catch. Here you go.", Nailah chirped handing Delores back to Five. Five embraced her delicately.

"We're drunk. But that's what you do when the world you love goes bye-bye. Poof, it's gone. What are you guys talking about?"

​​​​​​​"Two masked intruders attacked the academy last night.", Luther said.

"They came looking for you.", Diego added in a fake cheerful voice.

"And they had the same masks as the guys that chased us at the mall.", Nailah finished.

"Hazel and Cha-Cha.", Five sighed.

"Who?", Diego asked while Luther complained: ​​​​​​​"You know I hate code names."

​​​​​​​"The best of the best. Except for me of course.", Five explained.

"The best of what?", Luther asked while Nailah whispered "Murder" ins ear.

​​​​​​​"You know, Delores always said she hated when I drink. She said it made me surly...", Five began.

Diego immediately caught him off in tone that let Nailah stop her happy bouncing: "Hey! I need you to focus! What do this Hazel and Cha-Cha want?"

Five gave him a huge smile. ​​​​​​​"We just wanna protect you.", Diego assured.

"Protect me.", Five scoffed. ​​​​​​​"I don't need your protection, Diego. Do you have any idea how many people I've killed? I'm the Four frickin' Horsemen. The apocalypse is coming."

The he leaned back and vomited only barely missing Luther. "Ew.", Nailah whispered.

At Diego's shabby place in the box-club boiler room Luther placed Five gently on Diego's bed. Luther, Diego and Nailah stood above him looking down at their brother curiously. 

​​​​​​​"Funny. If I didn't know he was such a prick, I'd say he looks almost adorable in his sleep.", Diego commented.

​​​​​​​"Let's be grateful then that we know him.", Nailah said.

"Don't get cocky, young lady. Now go and drink some water.", Diego snapped at her to which she only chuckled: " Young lady? I'm the same age you are."

​​​​​​​"Highly doubt that. Physically and mentally.", Luther commented and Nailah scoffed but listened.

​​​​​​​"We need to find out what his connections are with these lunatics before someone else dies. You've met them, right? Any information you might want to share with us?", Diego asked Nailah.

"I know just as much as you.", she shook her head and Diego cursed. 

"All that stuff he was saying before...  What do you think he meant by that?", Luther asked but Diego noticed for him to be quiet. 

Calmly he slithered to the door with a knife ready in his hand. He opened the door with the knife ready to be thrown but was stopped on the last moment by the owner's annoyed voice: ​​​​​​​"You. throw another one of those goddamn knives at me, I'm pressin' charges!"

Diego sighed in annoyed relief and put the knife back into the sheath on his suit. "What do you want, Al?", he asked.

"I ain't your secretary.", a small old man walked into the room quickly scanning Luther and Nailah.

"Some lady called for you, said she needs your help.", Al said.

"What lady?"

"I dunno. Some, uh, detective. I think she said her name was, uh, Blotch or something."

"Patch? She needs my help."

"She needs you to meet her at that motel, a dump in Calhoun.", Al said giving Diego a note.

"When?"

"About half an hour ago. She said she found your brother."

Luther and Diego looked at each other confused. "Klaus.", Nailah saved them roaming through Diego's refrigerator.

Diego immediately ran out the door leaving Luther with a sleeping psychotic Five and Nailah who was grinning like a kid when she found a week expired ice cream.

-> The Umbrella Academy Masterlist

[jdgo51]

God Turns Gloom into Good

Today's inspiration comes from:

Whatever Happens

by Robert J. Morgan

"Last year during a speaking engagement in Tupelo, Mississippi, I checked out of my hotel and started my truck. It roared like a motorcycle with no muffler. During the night somebody had stolen my catalytic converter. I had to leave my truck behind, rent a car, deal with insurance, and send somebody back to fetch my truck. After all that, the vehicle still wasn’t working right, so I left it at the dealership while on another trip.

When I returned, I used a ride-sharing app to take me to the dealership for my truck. As I sat in the back seat, I noticed a Bible in the seat pocket. I asked the young driver about it. He said it had belonged to his dear, departed aunt, and he liked to keep it close to remind him of her. I told him he should read it. I shared some verses I’d read that morning in my own Bible.

He listened with unusual interest, so I explained from Scripture how to have a relationship with God through Jesus Christ. By the time we got to the dealership, he wanted to pray, asking God for salvation — which he did.

That’s when I understood why the Lord had allowed someone to steal my catalytic converter — it had set off a chain reaction that led to the young man’s salvation.

Bad things happen all the time, but what if you knew that every gloomy thing would lead to glorious results under the guiding providence of God?

That’s what Paul told the Philippians. They were distressed at all that had happened to him — the loss of his fourth missionary journey, his imprisonment in Caesarea, his shipwreck on Malta, and his looming trial in Rome. But Paul wasn’t gloomy in the least. He said:

Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear. — Philippians 1:12–14

This is the Philippian version of Romans 8:28, which says,

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. — NKJV

Problems can last a long time, but they can’t last forever as God’s promises do. We live in a world of catastrophes and calamities, and none of us knows what will happen next. Without God’s oversight, our futures are like scraps of paper scattering in the wind. But under His oversight, they’re like pages of hope indelibly written by grace. The Scriptures teach we have a God who turns problems inside out — all our perils and perplexities...

What if you knew that every gloomy thing would lead to glorious results under the guiding providence of God?

In Christ, we have an ironclad, unfailing, all-encompassing, God-given guarantee that every single circumstance in life will sooner or later turn out well for those committed to Him.

Perhaps something has happened to you that has taken the wind out of your sails, the bounce out of your step, the twinkle out of your eye, and the joy out of your heart. Our circumstances must bow before Jesus. We may not be able to control them, and chaos may seem to reign. But the Savior who turned water into wine and death into life can bring about a mutation, a transfiguration, a reversal, an evolution of our circumstances. The Savior can turn our circumstances into His servants for the advancement of His kingdom.

This is part of redemption.

How did Paul’s adversity serve to advance the gospel? In two ways. First, he was chained to soldiers twenty-four hours a day. He always seemed to be on good terms with the soldiers protecting him, and he shared his message with them. They were a captive audience — not only did he speak to them directly, but they heard his conversations with others and they listened as he prayed.

The imperial guard was made up of about ten thousand of Rome’s best soldiers. They served under the direct command of Nero to protect him, to provide a police presence in Rome, and to do his bidding throughout the empire. Paul’s converts among these soldiers took the gospel to far-flung regions he could never have gone himself.

What appeared to be Paul’s tragedy was really God’s strategy.

Second, Paul’s circumstances had a bracing effect on the church. We can see how this works, can’t we? When you read of the courage of a Christian facing persecution in an oppressive land — when they stand bravely for Christ despite threats and intimidations — doesn’t it encourage you to be bolder and more outspoken in your faith?

Gloomy thoughts come from the way we interpret the happenings of our lives. Paul knew that every single circumstance was under the providence, the sovereignty, and the control of Jesus Christ, who had turned an occupied tomb into an empty grave. He knew that everything worked together for the good of those who love God and are living according to His purposes. He could even see some of the benefits God was bringing about.

The things that happen to us have a divine way of actually turning out for our good and for the furtherance of the gospel. In His own way and time, the Lord reverses adversity, overrides misfortune, and dismantles the devil’s schemes.

He will do this for you."

Orison Swett Marden, Everybody Ahead: Or, Getting the Most Out of Life (New York: Frank E. Morrison Publisher, 1916), 310–312. Andrew Brunson, God’s Hostage (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2019), 208. The last word of the verse is my own paraphrase. The niv uses the word “wasteland.” Frank Laubach, Prayer: The Mightiest Force in the World (Burtyrki Books, 2020), 12 and passim. Words by Joel Hemphill Written for Devotionals Daily by Robert J. Morgan, author of Whatever Happens: How to Stand Firm in Your Faith When the World Is Falling Apart.

[savageboar]

someone stole part of my car's exhaust system can't have shit in st louis

[vanilla-bean-buttercream]

I Got Robbed by a Sixteen-Year-Old

Pairings: N/A Characters: Janus, Remy, Virgil, Emile, Logan Chapter warnings: Gun violence, blood, threats of violence, fake threats of violence, stealing, imprisonment, physical restraints, threats of bodily harm, there's a cancer mention but it's not huge, minor commentary that matches with current events, if you're on mobile you might have a bad time reblogging this Word Count: 8,317

Summary:

“I think he definitely learned who was boss,” Remy replied, “which I mean, it sucks that his kid got hospitalized right before he owed us the money, but he should’ve had it paid back months ago, and- Janus? What’s up, babe?”

Janus’s brow creased harder and harder, and he moved his coat pocket to get a visual check inside.

“It’s gone,” Janus whispered. He clenched his teeth. “The money Jim gave us. It’s gone.”

“Well shit,” Remy said. “Did you drop it on the way down?”

“No,” Janus said as he glanced through the car’s front window. “I think that little shit from earlier pickpocketed me.”

Ao3 Link

==

It wasn’t often Janus went to personal visits on his own. Well “on his own” as Remy and a few others in charge of keeping him safe flanked him on either side. Janus knew how important it was that he was never caught, never killed, and never framed for any of the things going on.

Still, he was bored, and he needed to put the pressure on someone to make himself feel a little bit more in control over a certain situation that was plaguing his mind.

Janus entered the food establishment and took his hat off in respect, as he always did. He spied the elderly woman working in the back, and a smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Mrs. Callaway,” he announced his presence.

The woman stood, and a cry of joy squeaked past her lips. She said, “Oh, is that my Janus! If I knew you were showing up today, I would’ve put on more makeup.”

“Oh, please, you’re too beautiful for makeup,” Janus responded, making the elderly woman blush. “Is Jim here? I’d like to speak to him if I could.”

“I’m sure Jimmy’s around here somewhere,” Mrs. Callaway answered.

Janus cleared his throat, and he offered the woman a hundred dollar bill. She looked at the bill, then back at Janus. Janus smiled innocently at her.

“Go get yourself a really nice haircut and have a spa day, Mrs. Callaway. You work so hard, and you should treat yourself. I'll wait until Jim can cover for you.”

“Oh, you spoil me so,” she said as she giggled. “Okay, if you insist, dear.”

Janus sent her a genuine smile, and the old woman smacked him lightly on the arm. Remy monitored the movement, but he made no effort to stop her. She turned a mischievous eye to Janus and continued, “And don't be a stranger, you hear?”

“Of course,” Janus responded.

The group waited for Mrs. Callaway to exit the room. Janus put his hat back on his head and steeled his face. The trio behind him put a warning hand on their guns and proceeded behind him. 

Showtime.

“Jim Callaway,” Janus announced. He walked behind the counter and slowly climbed the stairs. From above, he could hear panicked movements shuffling from place to place. Janus smirked. He lived for the thrill of hunting his victim. The way his heart rate increased. The way his body shook with excitement. The way he didn’t know what was going to happen next or who was going to make it out alive. Janus called out again, “I need that money, Jim.”

“I’ll be out in a second,” Jim’s frantic voice called out. 

Janus stood at the top of the stairs. He cracked his neck left then right. After a quick glance to check on the rest of his team, Janus sauntered toward the back room, as he always did. Something glass broke behind the door, and a low curse whispered through the wood. Janus put his hand on the door handle and waited.

“I’m coming in,” he announced.

All movement on the other side of the door stopped.

Janus heard Remy suck in a deep breath behind him. He turned to give one last look at his crew and twisted the handle.

Gunshots fired on them immediately.

Janus ducked down behind the door as Remy leaned around it to take a shot. Several more bullets fired. Remy took three more shots before he had to reload. The other two behind them took their shots as well. None of them seemed to hit.

At least, not until Remy took a shot and a loud yell sounded on the other side.

The commotion died down. Janus held his breath and counted to three. Remy peeked around the door first, taking the lead, his gun held straight out in front of him. The other two entered next. Janus eventually moved from his spot behind the door and walked in.

Blood leaked from behind a collapsed table. Janus’s lips pulled down into a frown. If they accidentally killed Jim, there went his relationship with Mrs. Callaway. He’d miss the free cookies. 

“Jim,” Janus said as he adjusted his hat back into its rightful position, “I know for a fact you weren’t about to kill me right now, right?”

A low grunt sounded from behind the table. Remy glanced back at Janus, asking him what he should do, and Janus simply held his fist up to order a cease-fire. 

Slowly, Janus made his way around the table. Jim was on the floor clutching his leg. He hissed out a curse as Janus came around, his blond hair sticking up in all directions and blue eyes narrowed on Janus. Janus knelt down and stared straight into Jim’s eyes. His lips pulled into a disappointed frown, and he tilted his head to the side.

Janus continued, “Because you know if you would’ve killed me, your little shop here would go under in about five minutes flat, right?”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ve been there. Lucifer couldn’t handle me and sent me back,” Janus answered. “Now, Jim, I know you wouldn’t spend all the money you owed me after I generously got you a donor that would give you way more than you needed, right?”

Jim eyed him over. He adjusted his position, only offering a growl in return.

Janus smashed his palm into the bullet hole on Jim’s leg. Jim screamed, and Janus squeezed. He watched Jim struggle to push Janus off him, but Janus held firm. Jim reached out for his gun, but a warning shot from Remy stopped him in his tracks.

“I used it, okay?” Jim snapped. “I had to.”

“Why?” Janus asked.

“My daughter. I had to use it for my daughter.”

Janus let go of Jim’s leg. Jim panted and cradled the injured appendage close to him. Janus looked for any sort of tell that Jim was lying and sighed through his nose.

“What do you mean you had to use it on your daughter?” Janus asked.

Jim’s eyes held a different emotion than panic for a second: sorrow. He blinked it away and stared down at the floor. Janus waited for Jim to continue.

“My daughter, a few weeks ago, she woke up with a pain in her side. We rushed her to the hospital, and it turned out she had appendicitis. It had to be taken out or she’d die. We don’t have insurance, and the bill was so high. I couldn’t… I didn’t know what to do. So I used the money I got from the drug deals to pay off the hospital. I promise I’ll get your money back. I just don’t have it right now.”

Janus sighed through his nose. He shook his head back and forth. “I told you, Jim, this was your last chance to pay me back.”

“No, please! I’m telling you the truth! Call Acacia up! I promise, she’ll tell you the whole thing,” Jim shrieked.

“I know,” Janus replied.

“You can’t take me from her right now. You just can’t! Have a heart, would you?”

Janus caught the man’s eye. He stood up and pulled off the bloody glove over his right hand. Jim swallowed hard, and he curled in on himself, waiting for the fatal blow.

“I can’t leave here without some sort of payment, Jim, even if it’s just a dollar. I just can’t.” Janus cracked his back. 

The sentence spread a little bit of hope across Jim’s face. “A-a dollar?”

Janus studied him for a minute. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Jim. I expect all that money to be paid back next month with five percent interest, but for now, I’ll take whatever you can give me, which is pretty generous in my opinion considering you were willing to shoot me five minutes ago.”

Jim at least had the decency to look embarrassed. He tried to stand, but he fell back against the table.

“Just tell me where your money is and how much, and I’ll do the rest,” Janus said. He turned to one of the people behind him. “Patch him up, would you? I don’t want him bleeding to death before we get anything.”

One of the gang members leaned down and pulled out medical supplies from his bag. Jim pointed to the desk in the far corner and told Janus there was about $1,000 hidden in it. Janus opened the drawer, and true to Jim’s words, the wad of cash was waiting for him. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket.

“A pleasure doing business with you, Jim,” Janus said. He headed toward the door, motioning for the other members to follow him. Janus glanced over his shoulder and then said, “Oh, and Jim, do tell your mother the cookies she delivered to the office were delicious. Everyone enjoyed them.”

With that, Janus headed out of the room, down the stairs, and exited onto the street.

“Wow, I thought for sure you were going to kill him in there, babe,” Remy teased as they headed outside. “You got soft.”

“You’re surprised I have a heart?” Janus said as he raised an eyebrow. 

Remy opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it soon after. Instead, he shook his head and pulled a bewildered smile on his face.

As Janus waited for Remy to open the car door for him, someone bumped into Janus’s side. Janus let out a surprised hiss, and the person twisted away, his eyes narrowed into a scowl.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” the kid shot before he shoved his hands into his pockets and traveled down the street.

“What manners kids these days have,” Janus grumbled. He slid into his seat and let Remy close the door. Janus buckled his seatbelt and adjusted himself into a more comfortable position. Remy entered the other side, and he let out a long sigh as he plopped into the leather seat.

“I know right? No respect. No respect at all,” Remy said as he mocked an Italian accent. Janus gave him a playful shove on the shoulder, and Remy started to laugh. 

“Well, let’s just hope for Jimmy’s sake he learned some respect,” Janus said. He put his hands in his pocket and fished around for the thousand he took.

“I think he definitely learned who was boss,” Remy replied, “which I mean, it sucks that his kid got hospitalized right before he owed us the money, but he should’ve had it paid back months ago, and- Janus? What’s up, babe?”

Janus’s brow creased harder and harder, and he moved his coat pocket to get a visual check inside.

“It’s gone,” Janus whispered. He clenched his teeth. “The money Jim gave us. It’s gone.”

“Well shit,” Remy said. “Did you drop it on the way down?”

“No,” Janus said as he glanced through the car’s front window. “I think that little shit from earlier pickpocketed me.”

The kid in question was well out of sight. Most likely, he took off as soon as Janus wasn’t watching so he could get away. Janus had to respect the kid's courage for a moment, stealing from a literal crime boss, but also berated the kid's stupidity for stealing from a literal crime boss.

“What did he look like?” Remy questioned. “We can have a few people out searching for him, you know, so we can get it back.”

“I remember dark eye shadow, gray eyes, messy black hair that went into the kid’s eyes, and a purple patched jacket,” Janus responded.

Remy nodded his head. “I’ll alert the other people stationed around the city. We’ll find him.”

“Good. I want him brought to me alive,” Janus said through his teeth, “so that I can look him in the eyes when I make sure he never steals from me again.”

--

Inside the office was unusually quiet when they returned. Janus headed back to his office as he ran a hand down his face. He paused just outside his door. Perhaps he should pay Emile a visit first. He hated to bug the man, especially since Emile just got a new toy, well kid, but he still needed Emile to do his job.

Janus walked over toward the elevator and got inside. He scanned the numbers for the bottom floors and hit three. The elevator doors closed, and it started to descend to the apartments under the office space.

After the doors slid open, Janus walked with his head held high toward Emile’s room. Several members stared, some greeted him, and some moved out of his way. It wasn’t often Janus came down to the lower levels himself, especially this one. He stood at Emile’s door and knocked three times.

No answer.

“Emile,” Janus called out. He waited once again. No answer.

Janus twisted the door handle. Emile’s bed was neatly made, and the record book was closed on his desk. Judging from how warm the room was, Emile hadn’t been in here for a while.

Janus closed the door, his eyebrows knitted together. He spied a girl walking down the hall and called out, “Hey, Nancy, do you know where Emile is?”

Nancy turned, a surprised “o” formed on her lips, and nodded her head. “Yeah, he’s in with Logan right now.”

“And where’s that?”

“Uh, Room 383, I think. Or is it 394. I don’t know, it’s one of the two.”

“Thanks, Nancy, super helpful.”

“Of course!”

Janus watched her walk away, her high heels clicking on the floor. He scratched the hair under his hat. Where in the world was room 383 and 394 anyway? He growled through his nose and began searching.

Room number after room number after wrong turn after room number, Janus searched the bottom floor. He got so aggravated he stormed into people’s rooms just to ask for directions. Why was this area so vast and built like a maze?

Eventually, Janus found what he was looking for. He knocked three times on the door and waited.

There was a long pause before Logan’s voice announced, “Come in.”

Janus twisted the door handle. He stopped as he caught sight of Emile and Logan on the floor. A chessboard in the middle of the floor showed Emile was three moves away from losing his queen. Emile laid on his stomach, his legs crossed behind him in an “x” shape. He smiled up a Janus, his cheeks puffed from being cradled in his palms. Logan, on the other hand, sat rigid with his back straight and legs crossed. He swallowed hard and searched Janus for any intent to hurt him. Janus learned not to take it too personally.

“Emile, I need you,” Janus said.

Emile looked from Janus to Logan and back at Janus. He asked, “Now?”

“Now.”

Emile’s hands flopped onto the floor. Logan watched Emile's deflated reaction with passive curiosity.

“We can continue the game later,” Logan said as he stood. He walked over to his bed and sat cross-legged parallel to Janus. "I'm mentally exhausted anyway."

“If you’re sure,” Emile responded. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and stood up. After adjusting his sweater vest, he followed Janus out of the room and closed the door. The two walked a short distance away before Emile asked, “What’s up, Doc?”

“I need you to send a card to Acacia Callaway, Jim Callaway's daughter. She’s recovering from appendicitis.”

“Oh,” Emile said. He furrowed his brow. “Is that all?”

“No, I need you to scratch a thousand dollars off Jim Callaway’s debt. Then, I need you to add that he now owes 5 percent of whatever is left.”

“Five percent?” Emile’s lips searched for his next words. “I thought his debt was supposed to be paid today.”

“Why do you think you’re sending the card to Acacia?”

Emile got quiet and connected the dots. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, I get it now. So, who do you want me to sign the card as?”

“A friend,” Janus replied.

Emile nodded. “Any balloons?”

“She’s eight and I know nothing about kids. What do you think?”

“I think balloons might be nice,” he replied. “Maybe a vase of roses.”

“Now, don’t go crazy spending my money here, Emile.”

“Of course not. It was just a friendly suggestion.”

The duo stopped outside of Emile’s door. Emile went to turn his door handle, but Janus beat him to it. He stared down at Emile, his mirth gone.

“How is Logan adjusting?” Janus asked.

“It’s only been a week,” Emile said. “You gotta give the kid some time.”

“I’m just worried is all.” Emile rose a brow, and Janus glanced away. “Don’t look too far into this, okay? I couldn’t care less about what you do to the kid. I just want to know he isn’t going to rat us out.”

“Logan wouldn’t do that,” Emile defended.

“You said so yourself. He’s only been here a week. We still don’t know if we can trust him.”

“I’m working on it. He hasn’t called the police or posted anything on any social media from what I can tell.”

“Good. I need no footprints leading to us either. As long as it’s nothing but the parents boohooing on the news and people spreading posters to search for him, I’m willing to let him stay.”

“When are you going to pressure his family, exactly?”

“Soon.”

“Soon?”

“Yes, soon. Is there an echo in here?”

Emile closed his mouth. He nodded his head in understanding. Janus swung the door open, and Emile stepped inside. After a moment, Janus opened his mouth to speak again.

“Just keep as close of an eye on him as you can. We can’t have any more accidents because you trusted someone too much, got it?”

“Of course,” Emile replied. He plopped down onto his desk chair and turned it toward his book. With a heavy sigh, Emile opened it and began his work.

Janus’s heartstrings pulled a bit, and he said, “I’m not trying to be mean, Emile. I just need you to understand the severity of-”

“I know,” Emile said without looking up. His hand grabbed the hair on the top of his head. He sighed and whispered again, “I know.”

Janus exhaled through his nose and closed Emile’s door without another word. Thankfully he knew the way back to the elevator from here. He stepped through its doors and hit the star button, leaving his thoughts and the people on this floor alone.

--

It was quiet on a Sunday. A lot of the gang members took today off to be with their families. The few who chose to stay behind usually didn’t have a family to go home to or weren’t Catholic. Janus could respect that. Everyone needed a day off once and a while, especially when you worked in the place they did.

It was quiet on a Sunday. The search for that delinquent who bumped into Janus was still going on, and Janus was starting to grow impatient. It wasn’t like he needed the money, but he didn’t like being made a fool of either. How did he not notice the kid was pickpocketing him? Why couldn’t they find the kid after he escaped? Why did he keep getting attacked by literal kids?

It was quiet on a Sunday. Janus hadn’t seen Emile since their earlier conversation two days ago. He wondered if Emile was mad at him or just spending too much time with Logan. Either way, Janus was willing to give Emile some space. He could wait until Emile came back to him. Emile always did eventually. Besides, if Logan was finally helping Emile heal after all these years, who was he to intervene? 

A loud bang sounded, not a gunshot but loud enough to rival one. Janus recognized it as the sound of a heavy door swinging open. 

Well, it was quiet on a Sunday.

Janus snapped his head up from his computer screen. Shouts and curses and protests filled the space outside his office. Janus stood from his seat, wondering what the commotion was about.

As Janus opened his door, he got his answer.

Remy was struggling to contain a teenager, who had his hands tied behind his back and flung himself around wildly to get away. Two other gang members were helping Remy contain the kid, and they were having a hell of a time doing it. Janus sighed through his nose, raised the pistol strapped to his hip, and shot three shots into the air. 

The only sound left was the clatter of the bullet shells hitting the floor.

“What’s going on here, gentleman?” Janus asked.

Remy spoke up, “I think we found the kid who stole from us the other day.”

“You think?” Janus clicked his tongue as he approached. “Remy, I’m appalled by your behavior. You abducted a kid off the street, drug him all the way here, and you merely think he’s the one who did that to me? For shame.”

“Just wanted your confirmation before I booked the kid for something he didn’t do,” Remy added.

Janus continued to saunter toward them at a slow pace, “I should hope so, Remy, because if he is the kid who did pickpocket off me, he may not like what happens next.”

The closer he got, the more features he could make out on the kid. The kid indeed wore the same purple patched jacket. His gray eyes were wide with fear. Black makeup smudged under his eyes, or maybe those were bags from lack of sleep, ran down his face with his tears and sweat. His black hair stuck to his forehead and up in different directions. 

As Janus got closer, the kid went stiff as a board. His chest rose and fell way too fast, and he couldn't do anything but merely stare. Janus stopped about six feet away from the kid, folded his hands behind his back, and raised his nose to stare down at him.

“Well, it does appear he is the kid who stole from me,” Janus informed.

At that, the kid tried to wrench his upper body from the gang member’s hands. They easily got a grip on him. The kid’s shoes squeaked on the floor. Eventually, he gave up and settled for glaring at the polished floor below his feet.

Janus closed the distance between them, grabbed the kid’s jaw between his fingers, and forced the kid to look up at him. He met fiercely defiant eyes, eyes that reminded him a lot of a certain someone else in this room, and grinned.

“Congratulations, kid. You managed to steal from the biggest crime organization in the city,” Janus spoke. He tilted his head to the side. “Too bad it’s the last thing you'll do.”

“Fuck you,” the kid snapped.

“No thank you,” Janus answered. The group of gang members started to snicker. Janus held up his hand to silence them, and they obeyed. He continued, “The question is, what should I do to you? Make you pay the money back six times over? Throw you in a room and not let you out until you apologize? Or, maybe, I should make an example of you and show others what happens if you steal from me.”

The kid’s courage was slowly starting to slip away. The more Janus spoke, the more uncomfortable the crew holding him became. Even Remy flinched at Janus’s words.

“Well,” Janus said as he leaned down, “What do you have to say for yourself, kid?”

Those cold gray eyes glared into Janus’s own, and for a moment, Janus had to appreciate the kid’s guts. Not many people were brave enough to stare him in the eye, let alone someone who was one step away from unpleasant events. Janus let go of the kid’s jaw, but the kid still didn’t look away.

“What’s your name?” Janus asked.

“What’s it to you?” the kid growled.

“Oh, so you can speak,” Janus said as he clapped his hands. “Well done. I’m impressed. I would like to know your name for future records, you know, in case anyone comes to me seeking revenge for killing their child.”

“Don’t got no family.”

“Oh, well, that’s dreadful. Then, how about a friend coming to shoot up my office in your name?”

The kid swallowed again. “Don’t got no friends either.”

Janus hummed. He eyed the people behind the kid, and he asked, “Where’d you find him?”

Remy snuffed. “He was hanging around Callaway’s again. Mrs. Callaway was giving him a free meal from what I heard.”

“Ah yes, the ever so kind Mrs. Callaway. Why didn’t you use the thousand dollars you stole from me?”

Only then did the kid break away from Janus’s gaze. Janus rose a brow, waiting expectantly for an answer.

“Well?” Janus coaxed. The kid mumbled something, and Janus put a hand to his ear to listen. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“I gave it back to them,” the kid snapped.

That straightened Janus’s posture. His lips pulled into a tight line. He could see courage rising again in the young man’s chest. 

Janus repeated, “You gave it back to them?”

“Yeah, I fucking gave it back to them,” the kid snapped. “Who the fuck do you think you are stealing from them like that, huh? What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know what they’ve been through? Christ, his kid’s in the hospital and his mom’s working sixteen hours by herself to keep the restaurant going because of it. And now, now Jim has a fucking bullet wound in his leg. Who gave you the right to bully them, huh? Don’t you know what they do for this city? All the free meals they give out to kids who are literally starving on the streets? If it wasn’t for them, I’d have been dead years ago, so you bet your ass I gave the money back to them.”

Janus stayed quiet, his grin sliding away bit by bit as the kid ranted. He caught Remy’s eye, but Remy didn't have anything to say to help him out. Eventually, Janus removed his hat to run his hands through his hair.

“Well, aren’t you quite the little Robin Hood,” Janus remarked.

Remy shifted uncomfortably behind the kid, and he asked, “Janus, can’t we just make one exception? Just this time? You know-”

Janus held up his hand, silencing Remy. Remy’s jaw closed with an audible click.

“What did you say your name was again, kid?” Janus asked.

“I didn’t.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what. You let me know your name, and I won’t make you pay for your rudeness. Got it?”

The teen eyed Janus warily, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He opened his mouth, closed it, then took a deep breath through his nose.

“Virgil,” he answered at last.

“Virgil what?”

Virgil looked down at the ground. “Just Virgil.”

“Well, Just Virgil,” Janus said with a tilt of his head. “It’s nice to meet you. It’s been a while since someone had the guts to speak to me like that, and I must say, I’m impressed.”

Judging by Virgil’s expression, Virgil didn’t take it as a compliment. It didn’t offend Janus at all.

Janus turned his attention to the people behind Virgil and ordered, “Take him to the fifth floor. No one. And I repeat, no one. No one is allowed to touch him unless I say so, got it? Just make sure he isn’t leaving. I’ll talk to him again once things calm down a bit. And if I find out anyone touched him, I’ll do what they did to him tenfold.”

Virgil’s lips opened, asking a question that never came out of his throat. The three gang members drug Virgil toward the elevator. It took Virgil a moment to realize he was going somewhere he couldn’t escape from, and he started struggling and spitting out curses once again. 

Janus sighed and returned to his office. He closed the door, shutting out the noise and pretending it didn’t exist. Eventually, the elevator doors closed, silencing the office space once again.

Janus hoped that Emile wasn’t in the mood to go to the fifth floor today.

--

After about a day of letting Virgil calm down, Janus ordered a few gang members to go down and retrieve the kid. It took them about twenty minutes, but eventually, it led to them dragging Virgil in and sitting him in a wooden chair. One member moved to tie Virgil’s wrists to the chair, but Janus insisted it wasn’t necessary. The two goons left them alone.

For a while, all Janus and Virgil did was stare at each other.

“Did you sleep well?” Janus asked.

“No."

Janus sighed and nodded his head. “Well, that is to be expected. You had a rough day yesterday.”

“Why am I still here? Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

“I don’t kill kids.”

Virgil blinked. “You don’t?”

“I could make an exception for you if you want.”

Virgil shook his head back and forth rapidly, and Janus grinned. 

After a moment, Janus pretended to organize the pens on his desk and continued, “You’re still here because I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t kill kids as I said, but I also don’t want to let you off easy. You still did steal from me. What message would I be sending if I just let a kid off the hook without any consequences? I’ll be facing a mutiny in no time.”

“So, what are you going to do? Make me stay?”

Janus leaned back in his chair. “I’m not interested in adopting any more kids in the gang.”

“Any more? You mean, you’ve done this before?”

“Only once. I still regret it to this day, even if he did make a good ally,” Janus said. He eyed the picture lying face down on his desk and then returned his gaze back to Virgil. 

“Is he dead now?”

“No.”

Virgil waited for Janus to continue, but he never did. Instead, Virgil asked, “So if you’re not going to kill me, and if you’re not going to make me a part of the gang, what are you going to do with me?”

“What do you think I should do?” Janus rose a brow. “I find it much more amusing when my victims pick their punishment.”

“I’d honestly just prefer you kill me.”

“But, Virgil, you're so young. Think of all the good you can do when you get older. You might start a tax law that actually makes people like me pay our fair share of taxes.”

Virgil opened his mouth but closed it soon after. “That really doesn’t sound like an argument for my case.”

“Maybe I’m tired of billionaires who only take and never give anything back as well. Some sacrifices must be made for the good of the people, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh come now, Virgil. You can’t overthrow a government with peaceful protests.”

Virgil honestly didn’t know what to say about that. He squirmed in his chair and stared down at his knees. Finally, he asked, “Why do you care?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Virgil. I’m a crime boss, not an idiot. Those people are my competition. If I’m not paying off government officials to do the right thing, they can pay off government officials to do the wrong thing. Got it?”

That fully caught Virgil’s attention. He searched Janus’s face for any sort of trick, but nothing stood out to him. Eventually, he sighed through his nose and folded his arms.

“Alright, fine, say I actually believe one of you billionaire assholes want to change the world. Wouldn’t letting me go cause you more headache than it’s worth?”

“Probably.”

“So why do it?”

“I never said I was going to let you go.”

Virgil swallowed hard. He played with his fingers and picked at the skin around his nails. Eventually, he responded with, “So, what are you going to do with me?”

“I don’t know. You still haven’t answered me.”

Virgil chewed on his lip. He snuffed and said, “Well I mean, I’d say you could put me under house arrest, but I don’t exactly have a house.”

Janus’s lips quirked into a smirk. Virgil wondered if he said something wrong, and his heart pounded harder and harder in his chest. Janus opened one of the drawers at the bottom of his desk. He pulled out a thick black band with a black box on it.

“I can sort of do that,” Janus folded his fingers together. “Here’s how it works. You get this locked onto your ankle. I’ll know exactly where you are at all times, what you’re saying to people, who you’re talking to, what you’re doing. It’s like my own personal little tracking device to ensure you aren’t going to do something incredibly stupid.” He tapped the black box attached to the strap. “If you say something I don’t like, I enter a code on my computer, and this box will explode.”

Virgil’s jaw dropped.

“And that’s not the best part,” Janus continued. “If you try to take it off or tamper with it, it’ll also explode. So, really, unless you want to lose your leg or worse, you’re going to want to stay on my good side.”

“What the fuck?” Virgil finally whispered out.

“You suggested it, not me.”

“I didn’t think you’d literally strap an exploding device on my ankle. Who the fuck does that?”

“I do.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“Well, I can always lock you on the fifth floor until you’re old enough to be forced into the gang,” Janus offered. “That’s, what, seven years away? How long until you’re twenty-one?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“You mean I got robbed by a sixteen-year-old? Virgil, I’m disappointed in you. You should know better.” Janus laughed.

Virgil eyed the device on the table again. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. “So, all I have to do is wear that thing. For how long?”

“However long I think you should. Maybe a thousand days considering that’s how much money you stole.”

“A thousand days?” Virgil shrieked. “That’s like three years!”

“A little under three years, actually.”

“You’re insane. I’m not doing it.”

Janus shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll call the others to come and get you, and-”

“No, wait!” Virgil swallowed hard. “Let me… can I think about this first?”

“Oh, of course, Virgil. This is a huge life decision.” Janus said. “I wouldn't make you strap a deadly device on your leg without you thinking it over. What kind of crime boss would I be if I bullied people into listening to me?”

“I literally can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic right now or not.”

“Then believe what you want,” Janus said. He pressed the buzzer, and the same two people who escorted Virgil came in and grabbed his arms. Virgil stood from his chair and kept eye contact with Janus the entire time.

“Twenty-four hours, Janus informed him. “You have twenty-four hours to decide your fate, and if you don’t, then I do.” 

Janus couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his lips as Virgil maintained eye contact with him. He definitely liked this kid’s guts. The two gang members lead Virgil out and left Janus alone with his thoughts.

--

Twenty-four hours rolled around a lot faster than Janus expected it to. He tapped his fingers on his desk as the buzzer rang at his door.

“Enter,” he called out.

Remy stepped in, closed the door, and paused. Janus rose a brow and glanced over his computer.

Janus continued, “Well, Remy, to what do I owe the honor of a morning visit from you? I didn’t think you got up before noon.”

“It’s about the kid- ehm, Virgil. I can’t believe I have to clarify that now,” Remy said. He sucked in a breath and furrowed his brow. “Exploding leg bracelet?”

Janus burst out laughing. Remy deadpanned and leaned against the door.

“You’re sitting me, right?” Remy added on. “We don’t have exploding leg bracelets.”

Janus held up the device he showed Virgil the other day, his shoulders still shaking from containing his delight. He swung it around on his fingers and said, “No, we don’t.”

“Is that your old house arrest bracelet?”

“Yes.”

“And you told the kid it was an exploding device.”

“That’s the thing you’re worried about?” Janus said as he rose a brow. “I also told him I’d know everywhere he went, everything he said, everyone he talked to, and so on and so forth. And he believed me.”

Remy snorted before he responded, “That’s fucked, babe.”

“I had to tell him something.” Janus shrugged. “The kid’s got spirit, Remy. I’ll give him that. Stupid rebellious teen spirit, but spirit nonetheless. He reminds me a lot of you.”

“Oh shit, you’re right.”

“Only taller.”

“Bitch what? You wanna run that by me again?”

Janus grinned, and he tapped some papers against the desk to stack them neatly on top of each other. He thought for a moment before he replied, “You heard me, shorty.”

“Oh, that’s it. You and me, four o’clock. It’s on.”

Janus laughed again, and he shook his head. Remy wrinkled his nose, and he waited for Janus’s next order.

“Bring the kid up. I want to see if he’s ready to make his choice,” Janus said.

“And if he doesn’t?”

Janus thought for a moment. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

“You got it, babe.” Remy opened the door to Janus’s office and headed toward the elevator. He hit the down button and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His hand idly played with a coin in his pocket.

The door dinged, and Remy moved to enter. Or at least, he would’ve, had Emile not almost bumped into him.

“Yo, that was close,” Remy said with a laugh.

“Oh, sorry! Excuse me,” Emile said as he slipped past. Remy’s mind screamed as Emile headed toward Janus’s office.

“Wait, Em, where are you going?” Remy asked.

“I need to speak to Janus about a transaction made last night,” Emile responded.

Remy mumbled under his breath, “Oh, of course you do, right before I’m about to drag a teenager up here to meet the boss.” He walked in the elevator and entered his key into the fifth-floor slot. 

“Not my problem. That is not my problem,” Remy repeated until the elevator doors closed.

--

The buzzer to Janus’s office rang again, and Janus rose a brow. Wow, Remy was faster than he anticipated. Janus prepped his evil boss smile and cleared his throat. He pushed the button on his device and called out, “Enter.”

His smile did a 180 as Emile walked into the room.

“Oh, Emile,” Janus said as he cursed himself for not checking the door monitor. “To what do I owe the surprise visit this early in the morning?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the fund you’re giving to Tyler Hernandes,” Emile said. He put his book on the table next to Janus. 

Janus eyed his computer clock warily. He tried to keep his voice even as he could as he spoke, “You have five minutes.”

“See, I’m a bit confused. You scratched his name off the book, but it still says here that he never paid the fifty grand he owed. Is that a mistake?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Oh, well, did I make a mistake or-”

“No,” Janus rubbed his temples. “I cleared his name because he has brain cancer.”

Emile’s glasses slipped down his nose as his eyebrows rose. He pushed them back up. “You’re kidding me.”

“I really wish I was.”

“Is it terminal?”

“As far as I know, no. He’s going through extensive chemotherapy. I have someone else taking over his spot as our supplier.”

“Gosh, that’s awful. I sure hope everything turns out okay.”

Janus glanced at the clock again. “Is that everything?”

“Well, yes, but also no,” Emile said as he wrung his hands together. “I read something on social media the other day that said the police searched Logan’s house.”

Oh, here we go again.

Emile continued, “It wasn’t even the house we found him in. It was some vacation home in California. California! That’s on the other side of the country. Why would his parents say he was there when he was kidnapped.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the state of the house we found Logan in.”

“But they’re not even trying to get him back,” Emile said, his voice growing slowly with anger. “If Logan was my child, I’d have this whole town looking everywhere for him by now, not some state halfway across the country. And all I see are them talking about how sad they are. I know a fake cry when I see one, and-”

“Emile.”

“-those are the fakest tears I’ve ever seen. They just keep saying the same thing. It’s not even the same video clip. I’ve checked. And-”

“Emile.”

“-the reward for finding him? Oh, don’t even get me started. ‘If we find him, all proceeds will go to the Sidestown City Police for their job well done.’ What job well done? When have any of the officers-”

Janus held his hand up, and Emile closed his mouth so hard his teeth clicked. For a moment, Janus sat in silence. He sighed through his nose and folded his fingers together, his eyes landing on the clock in front of them.

“I know,” was all Janus responded with.

Emile lowered his head and took a deep breath. He caught Janus’s eye and swallowed hard. For a moment, the two didn’t say a word to each other.

Janus continued, “Now, Emile, I would love to talk more about how much you hate Logan’s parents, but I have a meeting soon and-”

The buzzer rang. Janus checked the monitor and mumbled a curse. Emile looked over Janus’s shoulder and hummed. “Who’s that?”

“Nobody,” Janus responded. He pushed the button. “Remy, I’m a little busy right now. Can you come back later?”

The speaker crackled as Remy answered, “How much later?”

“Give me five minutes.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it, Remy. I was just leaving,” Emile said as he walked over to the door. 

Janus stood, his chair rolling across the floor. “Wait, Emile-”

The door already opened. For a moment, Emile froze in the doorway. Janus watched Virgil and Emile’s eyes lock together, and Janus put his face in his hands.

“Oh, hello there,” Emile greeted, his signature chipper voice grating on Janus’s last nerve. “You okay there, kiddo? You look… scared.”

“He’s fine,” Janus said as he moved forward. He shoved Emile out of the room, grabbed Virgil’s wrist, and pulled him in. Before Emile could protest, Janus slammed the door shut and locked it.

“Who was that?” Virgil questioned.

“Nobody,” Janus growled. He walked Virgil over to the chair and sat him down a little rougher than he intended. Virgil glared up at him. Janus sat down on his chair and played with the house arrest bracelet at his fingertips. His voice changed to its suave, overconfident tone. “Well, have you thought it over?”

Virgil glared at the bracelet for a moment. His eyes flicked back up to Janus. The fear in his eyes betrayed the forced calm rise and fall of his chest. 

“I,” Virgil started, but his throat closed up. He swallowed hard and tried again, “I don’t…”

“You don’t want it?” Janus asked.

Virgil hesitated. He took a deep breath and mumbled his answer so quickly Janus had to try and piece the sentence together himself.

“You’ll wear the fucking bracelet?” Janus repeated.

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head.

Janus pretended to fiddle with the strap as he said, “You realize, once this goes on, it doesn’t come off unless I say so. If you try to take it off before I do, it’s going to kill you, right?”

Virgil eyed him warily before he slowly shook his head yes.

“And you know, I could keep this on you well after the thousand-day agreement if I truly wanted to, right? No one can help you out of this but me, not the authorities, not the other members of my gang, just me. You’re at my mercy until I choose to let you go, right?”

Virgil swallowed hard and shook his head yes.

Janus studied Virgil for any sign of running, any sign of fear, and any sign that he would do something stupid despite the circumstances. He took a deep breath, opened his drawer, and threw the bracelet in.

“Good, because I needed to know you were going to be loyal to me before I said this.”

“Wait, what?” Virgil said as his head snapped up. He blinked away his shock.

“Don’t get excited. I’m still not afraid to do something if you betray me. In all honesty, kid-”

“Virgil.”

“Virgil, in all honesty, I’m sticking my neck out for you here. I said no kids in my gang, and I mean it. However, I’m not against a stool pigeon.”

“A stool… what?”

“A stool pigeon. Usually, they’re people who spy for the police, but you hate the police, so maybe stool pigeon isn’t the right term here. What I’m saying is, I want you to be a spy for my gang. You seem to care a lot about this city and the people that are in it, and you also agree the government is doing a shit job at running it, right?”

Virgil nodded his head.

“So, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to keep an eye on the businesses I tell you to, like Callaway’s diner. I want you to tell me if you see anything suspicious, any payoffs to the wrong people, anybody making us look like fools, and anybody that’s going to cause a problem for us, got it?”

“I,” Virgil furrowed his brow, “how is this not working for you again, exactly?”

“I’m not paying you for this.” Janus watched Virgil’s mouth open, and he added, “Well, not technically. I’m giving you a home in the meantime. You said you don’t have any, right?”

“I… didn’t,” Virgil blinked, “but I don’t.”

“I thought not. So, what do you say, Virgil? Are you ready to actually do some good in this city, or are you just going to run around hoping pickpocketing isn’t going to piss off the wrong people?”

Janus extended his hand for Virgil to shake. After a few seconds of staring at it, Virgil reached out and shook Janus’s hand.

“I guess you got yourself a deal,” Virgil said with a sigh.

“Good. Now,” Janus eyed the door’s monitor and snorted. He pressed the button. “Emile, you can stop eavesdropping and come in now.”

The door opened, and both Virgil and Janus turned to monitor Emile’s reaction to the two of them. Emile opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and traded his words for a smile.

“Emile, this is Virgil,” Janus introduced. “He’s going to be a spy for us for a while. I want you to find him an empty room downstairs, tell him all the rules, and get him settled. Maybe introduce him to Logan, I don’t know. He’s your problem now, not mine.”

The smile on Emile’s lips slowly widened the more Janus spoke. Janus wouldn’t meet Emile’s eyes and instead went back to the work at his computer.

“Wait, how do I know this isn’t a trick?” Virgil asked. He stood from his chair. “What if I’m actually helping the wrong people, and this is just a coverup for you doing illegal shit behind the government’s back for your own gain?”

“You don’t,” Janus said as he started typing on his computer.

Virgil didn’t say anything after that. Instead, he walked out of the room with Emile. Janus stopped typing and glanced over the computer monitor. He watched Virgil and Emile disappear down the hall.

Remy, who was still leaning in the doorway, had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, and Janus pretended Remy didn’t exist.

“Wow, I wasn’t surprised you kept Logan, but two kids in a month, boss? Whatever happened to the “no kids” rule you set up like eight years ago?”

“Shut up, Remy. I didn’t put the kid in the gang. He’s not going to be dealing directly with anyone. He’s just a spy.”

“Spies were considered gang members the last time I checked, babe.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

“No, but I’m giving it to you anyway.”

Janus sighed through his nose. If Remy wasn’t his right-hand man, he would’ve killed him years ago just for being annoyingly right.

“I’m just saying,” Remy continued, “you’re getting really soft there, boss. What next? You going to break into an orphanage and adopt everyone in it?”

“Goodbye, Remy,” Janus growled.

Remy shook his head and grabbed onto the door handle. He said, “Yeah, okay, I got it babe. But seriously, you’re gonna want to put a bandaid on that bleeding heart of yours. It’s gonna get you killed one of these days.”

“That’s why I have you, to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Remy closed the door, and Janus stopped his work. He let his head quietly but with feeling thunk against the desk below him. 

“No more kids,” he mumbled to himself and let out a light laugh. Even he couldn’t follow his own rule. Still, this was going to be the last one. He’d make sure of it. He was not going to do this a third time.

[asterekmess]

Has Scott ever given Boyd the money he owed him in Teen Wolf Season 2? Stiles is the one who asks and pays Boyd for they keys to the ice rink because Scott wanted to go on a secret date with Allison – Stiles and Lydia went skating too, but they weren’t dating, they were just hanging out as friends and keeping Scott and Allison company – but what about Scott? He has a job he can use to at least help with paying for the things that HE wants, like Boyd’s keys

Well, I don’t think Scott owes Boyd any money? I’m not sure what you mean. Like you said, Stiles pays Boyd for the keys to the rink.

I agree that it was a bit of a weird incongruity that they showed Stiles having no job and Scott getting raises at his own job, but Stiles is the one paying for everything? He pays for gas, for the keys to the rink. He either pays for or steals those chains in S1 for Scott on the full moon.

I mean, i guess maybe they were trying to show that Scott couldn’t afford these things even with a job, while Stiles could without a job, but....that makes no sense. I’ve ranted about it like a thousand times, but Stiles and Scott are Not poor. THe whole plotline of Scott and his mother suddenly being on the verge of homelessness (I barely remember it) makes NO sense? Scott’s mother is an RN, who makes good money. I’ve done the research before and the average RN salary in the area of California that they live is above 60k a year. They’re NOT poor. Add to this Scott’s father, who is a well paid FBI agent and clearly cares about his son, so he wouldn’t be the type to skimp or shirk his Child Support payments, and they Are Not Poor. Even looking at Scott’s asthma and possible medical needs. His mother likely gets decent insurance seeing as she, ya know, works for the Hospital. It’s the same for Stiles, btw. While you could make the argument that his mother’s illness and medical bills/debt would take its toll on the family income, you have to take into account the insurance his father would have through the sheriff’s position, and how average salary for sheriff’s in that area of california is like 75k. Again. Not Poor. TW’s whole bit about two ‘broke’ kids is total bullshit. The only poor kid on that show was Boyd, and Isaac was the next closest since his dad used to be a teacher and now works/owns a cemetery, and we only knew Boyd was poor because he was the only person who lived in a house with less than two floors, whose home had bars on the window, and who lived in a Visibly Poor neighbourhood.

This isn’t to say that I don’t recognize how much Stiles gives up monetarily to help Scott. It’s not a small amount. HIs jeep is destroyed Multiple Times in the show and I doubt anyone was able to help pay for getting it fixed. Just in the beginning of S2, we hear that Stiles was going to have to pay $1,500 to get his car fixed for reasons supposedly unrelated to the supernatural stuff he’d already gone through, like getting his car battery (and the wires) ripped out, or the hood bent to shit.

Stiles gives up a lot, financially, emotionally, physically, and especially temporally.

I can’t remember where I was going with this. I hope I answered your question.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

NO ; MADS

HAPPY LOWMAN X READER

@arved asked: So... Would you write a story where you are Bishops younger sister and you ve met Happy, and starts having feelings for him... Your brother won't like it...

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @starrynite7114 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gifs credits to: @mayans-mc

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

You leave your car parked at the Romero and Brothers entry, looking for Chucky to tell you where Bishop's bike is. Your brother texted you last night to ask you if you could have a look at it because it started to make a noisy sound somewhere in the front wheel. Some of the guys in the crew know about mechanics, but he only trusts your hands to touch his baby, so you had to drive from Mexico. The kind man with strange hands, whom you love so much, tells you that Bishop is not there but his bike is parked next to the clubhouse. Nodding, you go downstairs off of the office, to walk through the small alley on your way to find what paranoia your brother has this time.

You run the heavy metallic door with Mayans symbols, raising an eyebrow when you see some motorbikes you don't recognize at first, but you don't give it more importance than that it has. Taking out of the pocket of your shorts the copy of the key, you walk towards the green bike with the intention of ride it to the car scrapping, when you hear a hoarse voice calling for your attention.

“To the floor! Hands up!”

Five men are pointing at you with loaded guns, following the indications of an older one without hair and covered in tattoos. He throws the toothpick, that it was in his lips, walking closer. You stop the engine without any sudden movement, and your hands on your nape. You're breathing fast, leaving the motorbike at your back.

“Call Bishop”. He says. And you don't know what disturbs you more, if the lack of gesticulation on his face or the calm tone voice.

“I'm...”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch”.

Rude.

You were going to tremendously enjoy it when your charter comes back and finds you kneeling on the ground. They try to contact your brother, but seems like he's driving, 'cause there's no answer. Even so, it takes you only two minutes to hear the motorbikes coming. Taza is the first one who sees you, braking abruptly and throwing his helmet to the floor.

“The hell you' doin' man?” He shouts, till all the Mayans appears.

“Put your fuckin' guns down!” Bishop runs out of the dark van, to help you.

“She was stealing...” The unknown man tries to say, confused and lost in the situation.

“She's my fuckin' sister!” The Mayans president is pissed off, while Taza holds your hands to put you up.

“You ok, chiquita?” He asks looking you from top to bottom.

“Not sure if I'm more scared than horny, or more horny than scared”. You answer wrinkling the bridge of the nose, your crew laughs shaking their heads.

“You hurt your knees”. Bishop sounds worried, repairing on the small burns on your legs. The concrete and gravel floor was hot, but you didn't notice it 'cause you were busy trying not to die by a gunshot.

“Bish, it's ok. I would have shot without asking”. You placed your palm on his shoulder, before Tranq lifts you up in his strong arms. “It's always an adventure to come see you”.

“I'm sorre', we didn't know”.

“Yea', did you ask her?”

“Let's take care of the Mayans' warrior”. Your savior chuckles, walking upstairs to the clubhouse.

┅┅┅┅┅┅

Chibs screamed, his gaze upon the skies when he heard news of his men’s actions upon his arrival. You two know each other since your brother became president of the charter, always being a gentleman and treating you as one of his own family. But you said one hundred times that everything was fine, rolling your eyes while you were hearing him cursing in scottish. The man who pointed at you first introduced himself as Happy, and you couldn't help laughing at his name.

At least, he was fucking hot and worth it.

┅┅┅┅┅┅

Night has fallen in Santo Padre and the latin music has flooded the clubhouse and its yards. The delicious smell of Felipe's meat is in the air, mixing with the laughs and shouts of the charters having a party between brothers. And there you are, lying inside the ring with your forearms behind your head looking at the stars and a beer next to your body. Turning your head to the main group of men, you check that the Son's is staring at you like ten minutes ago. You chuckle shaking your chin, putting back your gaze to the sky.

MEANWHILE

“So, wha's she doin' here'?” Chibs asks your brother, who is drinking his beer.

“I think something is happening to my bike, and she's the only one allowed to touch it”.

“Half Mayan and mechanic... Is she single?” The vice of the Sons of Anarchy asks without any shame.

“Yes, she is. But I don't want a motorist from any charter to be her man, 'you hear me?” The Mayans president is forceful, leaning forward on his seat.

“I'm too old for the club, I'm leaving it, Chibs. It was a pleasure”. Happy is the one who talks this time, and you can hear him, of course.

You can see how the man is getting up of his seat, taking off the vest to give it to the SoA president while everybody laughs except Bishop. He walks to the makeshift bar, next to the barbecue, to obtain two beers. Now, you have to hide the fact that you weren't looking at him. The older man gets inside the ring, standing up in front of you. Raising your gaze, you lift an eyebrow.

“Can 'invite you to a beer?”

“I already have one”.

Without expecting, he kicks it away from you, but you don't move a single inch rolling your eyes.

“Wasn’t pointing a gun at me enough? I think ya've already covered your aggressiveness quota for the day”.

“And I think that love was born between us when I called ya' bitch”.

“Is that what you tell to every girl?” You ask sitting on your forearms and crossing your legs, one over the other.

“I'm not a man of words”.

“You don't have to insure it, flaco”. You sigh for a second, raising a hand to take the beer he's offering you without a gesture on his face.

“So, you're Bishop young sister, uh?” He says, having a seat in front of you. After almost one minute in completely silence, he talks again taking you by surprise, even if it wasn't uncomfortable. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. I found him when I was fifteen. My parents abandoned him, before I was born”. He nods because of your words, looking thoughtful. You have a sip of your drink, waiting for him to say anything. But, that doesn't happens. “You have a lot of tattoos. Which one is your favorite?”

It's a cliche to ask about something like that, but you can't take your eyes off of them, because all that you can see around his arms and neck are traces drawing stories on him. You tattoo on your free time, so you're kinda passionate and he has truly pieces of art on his skin. Happy lifts up the grey shirt, showing you many more, before pointing the big and curled cobra on his chest and abdomen. You run your fingers over it, enraptured and your lips almost open so slowly that you can feel the way his abdomen contracts under your touch.

“Man... It's fuckin' amazing. I love the green path, but it is somewhat worn. I think I could fix it”. You say, trying to not sound too rude.

“Fix it?”

“Yea'! Addin' more color”.

“No, I mean. You tattoo?”

“I did most of the Mayans tattoos”. You nod then, with a proud gesture on your face, as he does after you. “I got my stuff in the car, if you want”.

“Sure, I would like to see what are you capable of”. He says calm, getting up off the ring and offering you his free hand, pushing you up on your way for a new adventure.

With a confidence that you don't know where it come from, he surrounds your shoulder with his arm, walking closer to you, but in complete silence. You can see your brother staring at you with his pursed lips against the beer he's holding. You pass them by, and if looks could kill, Happy would already be dead. Taking the key out of your pocket, you unlock your car to open the trunk.

“I got it”. He says going ahead, taking the heavy case full of different stickers on it.

Walking towards the clubhouse to get in, you stop your barefoot in the middle of it, looking for the best place.

Finally, you point the sofa on a corner, with a plug near of it, where you can put your machine.

“Shirt off”. You say, hearing how he chuckles almost in silence, obeying the order.

Now you're able to see many more tattoos around his back and arms. Good god, he can point a gun at you again, whenever he wants. Swallowing and clearing your throat, you prepare to mount the whole show. Your hands are cleaned with alcohol before covering them with the latex gloves, placing the ink cangs on the table by your side. The buzz of the needle floods the club, noticing that Happy doesn't feel anything when you start with the color over his lower abdomen.

You're focused in tattooing and cleaning the leftlover ink that bothers your view, even when you have a good point of light overhead. His skin is more tense than yours, being older and more tattooed, and that surprises you. The Son is getting you nervous, with his gaze on you, but not on the ink, making you raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“It's the first time a woman tattoos me”. Happy says, after some seconds looking like he's trying to find the correct words.

“'Cause you're a male chauvinist?” The needle stop, staring at him for a moment.

“'Cause I never found a woman who did it”. The smile he gives you makes you tremble slightly.

You continue with your task, stopping some times to check that the ink is uniform in every inch, till it's finished. You take a case cream tube, taking off one of your gloves, pulling it with your teeth, to put some of it on the reddened skin. Happy shakes a little, making you laugh hoping it's not because of the pain he was containing to look ‘more like a man’ and don't get embarrassed.

“Shit! It's cold!” He growls.

“Genius...” You break into loud laughter, while he snorts.

You caress his skin spreading the cream over the retouched tattoo, so slowly that you see how much he's enjoying it with a soft smile on his lips, before covering it, so that the excess ink doesn't stain the shirt when he got dressed again.

“Do you like it?” You ask with curiosity, getting up to admire your art.

“'Course, but it seems like you wanna do anotha’”.

“Seems like”. Cross-armed, you purse your lips.

“A tattoo for a kiss”. Yes, you were expecting it, making you squint at him.

Taking off the other glove and almost laying on the table, you reach your bag next to the case, looking for a cigar to light between your lips. You've seen him smoking before, so you do the same with him. Another way to keep his mouth occupied. Curling your legs on the table and surrounding them with your arms, you tilt your neck gently. He has a lot of happy faces tattooed by the cobra side. At first you think it's some kind of bad joke, until you realize it.

“You were nomad. That explain the shitty face and the holy silence”. You say having a smoke, with your gaze now on his. “A face, a life”.

The Son has an arm behind his head settled on the sofa, and you start to notice that maybe he's not good with words. But you like to read. So you do. Every gesture, for minimal that this could be on his face. His eyes vibrating, trying to keep yours. The way he has to swallow the smoke of the cigar. The skin of his throat going from up to down in a fast move. He's not ill-at-ease, but seems like he would like to hide that part of his life.

They are recent. Your fingers run over them, outlining each stroke. Those tattoos couldn’t have been more than six or eight years. The black ink was first, and looks like he added the yellow one somewhat after that. But when you're about to travel the last one, right before an old demon, he grabs your wrist. His fingers closing tight around it, loosening the grip some seconds after in a ephemeral caress that dries your mouth.

“Whatever I want?” You ask in a whisper referring to the tattoo, watching how he leaves his cigar in the ashtray next to yours.

Happy nods. Taking his right hand to place it on your, the noisy needle is back. In the ring finger, without needing a pre-design, nor anything of the session before that one, you tattoo a semicolon. Maybe bigger than you thought, but at least he's gonna see it all the time. After, you put some cream on and cover it with plastic film, you admire it one last time. So he does.

Time to pay your debt.

He puts a hand around your wrist it to urge you to lie on top of him. His legs between yours and his free hand tangled in your hair. His gaze could say more than thousands words and your eyes lost in it. Your nose brushing in a soft touch, till your lips meet his in a mild kiss with some kind of desperation. And before a last look, he tilt up his head to catch them again. Your chest laying on his, with no distance between both, breathing fast. Your tongues fighting, wetting the other, taking some air by your nose while his arms surround your hips and your hands travel to Happy's neck.

Maybe, the fact that most disturbs you is that he hasn't any intentions of fucking you, at least, not tonight. And you know it by the way he has to turn your body, lying by his side on the sofa. But the kiss doesn't stop, till he decides to attack your neck. You bite your inner lip, pressing a hand on his head to pull him closer, while his teeth drags on your skin before licking and suck it. He's making his own tattoo, even if it's gonna disappear in some days. And you can't help a gasp that escapes from deep in your throat.

Somebody knocks on the door.

“Happy, we should go”. His prospect's voice sounds behind it.

The man snort against your skin, pulling himself away some inches to admire his own piece of art, before bite your lips back.

“Happy?”

“I'm old but not deaf!” He shouts, turning to the door for a second.

“Sounds like Cali is calling”. You chuckles, getting comfy between his arms to enjoy the last seconds together.

“Next time, it will be permanent”. He replies referring to the hickey on your neck.

Leaving you alone in the sofa, he gets up to dress his shirt and take his stuff to keep it in a pocket. Happy leans toward you, placing one hand on the headrest, to kiss you one last time with some dearly that overwhelms you. Then, he leaves the club, with his eyes on the tattooed finger.

It takes you a minute to get up, being somewhat recovered, walking towards the wood railing outside to watch how he's wearing the Sons of Anarchy vest. Your brother comes next to you, adopting the same position but without his gaze on you.

“Did you fuck him?”

“I tattooed him”. You answers with a smooth smile on your lips.

“I don't know which one is worst”. Bishop sighs shaking his head, before turning at you. “He was a nomad”.

“So do I”.

“Es diferente, (Y/N)”. (It's different).

“Yea', él lo hizo por dinero. Yo lo hago por placer”. (Yea', he made it for money. I do for pleasure).

“¿Cómo lo sabes?” (How do you know it?)

“Porque sus tatuajes están rellenos de amarillo”. ('Cause he got the yellow on his smileys).

Bishop bow his head with a heavily snort drowning in his mouth, before licking his inner lip. “I can't lose you”.

“You will not. Maybe he was the reason I was looking for, to settle”.

“A man that pointed you with a loaded gun and called you ‘bitch’”?

“A man you can trust in. Don't you?”

You got it. You've caught him.

Your eyes flies to Happy, turning around to look at you with his shitty face, before getting inside the van that his prospect drives.

[princessjungeun]

Sunshine on A Cloudy Day: Sana x Reader

tw// chronic illness, hospitals, needles, mention of cancer

it’s a high school au btw

this is based on my personal experience. pls be respectful as it wasn’t easy for me to write this :)

Your alarm played through your room, waking you up immediately. You pressed snooze at least seven times before actually getting up and dressing yourself for the long day that was to come.

You pulled on your favorite t shirt and pajama pants before tugging on a sweatshirt. You checked the time before packing your bag, making sure to add your laptop and phone along with their chargers, snacks, socks, favorite stuffed animal, and a few extra school assignments.

By the time you made it downstairs your mom was already waiting for you. Quickly she handed you an apple and muffin to eat on the car ride.

“Okay sweetie I have a meeting this morning from 8 until 11. I’ll bring you lunch, just text or call and tell me what you want.” Your mother spoke not taking her eyes off the road as she drove.

Your mom pulled out her wallet and handed you two familiar cards, telling you to tuck them away until someone inside asked for them.

“Alright sweet girl I’ll be back soon, if they have any issues call me and I can sort it out.” Your mom kissed your forehead before letting you out the car, watching you walk inside before driving away.

Your feet felt heavy as the familiar smell of saline and disinfectant filled your nose. You grabbed a disposable mask off the lobby desk and put it on.

As you started to walk towards the elevator a woman called after you “maam!”

You turned around and pulled down the mask “don’t worry I’m still a minor. I’m going to the 4th floor.”

The woman nodded and gave you a thumbs up with a smile before turning back to check in adults.

It was still early so not many people were in the hallways, except the emergency wing. It is always packed no matter what.

You made your way to the fourth floor hoping if you wakes slower you just wouldn’t have to go. But that wasn’t how it worked and you knew it.

When you entered the waiting room you found a seat by the window. The dull grey sky offered no source of light, leaving you to rely on the fluorescent ceiling panels for brightness.

“Miss Y/LN?” The woman at the desk called your name, waving you over.

“Good morning sweetie haven’t seen you for a few weeks now.” She smiled as she spoke her tone was calming but also happy.

She asked “you got the insurance card for me?” You nodded and handed her one of the cards waiting for her to tell you how much you owed for today’s visit.

“And you have a $30 copay today, would you like to take care of that now?” You nodded and handed her the second card your mom gave you earlier. She finished checking you in “alright they’ll call you back in a bit.”

You sat down and pulled out your phone knowing that your girlfriend was actually awake now.

Y/N: hey

Sana 💞: good morning jagi

Sana 💞: you have an appointment today right?

Y/N 💘: yeah...kinda just wanna go back home

Sana 💞: it’s okay i’ll come over after school and make it better

Y/N 💘: you don’t have to i’ll be fine, this isn’t new

Sana💞: no girlfriend obligations

Sana 💞: i’m coming and you can’t stop me

Y/N 💘: okay fine

Y/N 💘: i’ll text you later, they’re calling me back now

•

•

•

It didn’t take long for your nurse to call you back and get you situated in a treatment room. There was only one other patient along with you. It was a little girl no more than 3 years old. You didn’t know exactly what she was getting but your heart broke at the thought considering what department you were in, Cancer and Blood Disorders.

It took 3 hours for your IV bag to get delivered to your floor so you turned on the tv hoping something good was on. You settled on Moana, the only thing that wasn’t the news.

“Alright love we just got your bag, you know the drill, vitals every ten minutes for the first 30 then i’ll come every hour. We should have you out in 5 hours if everything goes well okay?” Your favorite nurse Haseul explained to you quickly what was going to happen.

You found yourself in this same spot with her every couple weeks so she knew how you liked things to go.

“So how’ve you been missy? How’s Sana?” She poked your side getting you to smile for the first time today.

You told her “she’s really good...I haven’t seen her in three weeks though. She got sick for two and she had finals this week, but today is her last one.”

Haseul checked “so you didn’t see her when she was sick right? You know you can’t be around that with your anemia.”

You nodded softly remembering why you were even in the hospital in the first place. What was once a slight iron deficiency quickly turned into a chronic anemia that couldn’t be healed with oral supplements. Doctors had no other option than to put you on infusion treatments which sucked.

Although people were definitely going through worse, especially in this department, that didn’t take away from what you dealt with. The constant fatigue, dizziness, falling asleep in class, hair loss, being malnourished, all of it a constant reminder that you weren’t like most.

“Y/N!” Haseul snapped her fingers in front of your face.

You blinked rapidly “sorry what?”

Haseul responded “it’s okay I just needed to make sure you didn’t pass out on me. I need to put on your heart monitor.” She placed the stickers on your chest before grabbing the IV kit she placed on your lap earlier.

“Alright in your hand or arm today?” Haseul knows you prefer the arm but she always asks in case you change your mind.

You simply pointed to your arm before extending it so she could access your vein. Finding your vein was no problem, as you still had a raised bump from the last time you got treatment.

“Okay...and one two- there you go.” Haseul secured the IV with a Tergaderm, which was weirdly enough your favorite part of this whole process.

She left you and cane back every ten minutes to check your vitals before disappearing to help another patient for a bit.

You ended up spending the first two hours dozing in and out of sleep, waiting for your mother to call you. Eventually you did in fact wake up, and to the smell of your favorite food.

Your mother sat in a chair next to you on her phone talking to who you assume is a coworker. Quickly she hung up the phone so she could talk to you instead.

“Hey hows it going so far?” She asked with slight concern.

You told her “ fine just sleeping to pass time that’s all.”

She smiled before handing you a bag of food hoping it’d bring some form of joy to your day.

•

•

•

You both ended up enjoying an early lunch together but unfortunately she had to leave the hospital for an emergency meeting. It wasn’t unusual for this to happen so you were used to it, she’d simply be back at the end of your appointment.

Your phone buzzed next to you, pulling your attention away from your mother’s absence.

Sana💞: how are you doing so far?

Y/N💘: it’s good. I’m watching Aladdin now :)

Sana💞: i wanna be there with you rn instead of in math class

Y/N💘: your day is almost over then you can see me

Y/N💘: think of it that way

Sana💞: yeah but i still wish i was with you

Y/N💘: soon

Sana💞: ok fine. i have to go i love you

Y/N💘: i love you too babe

Around the third hour you became irritable and ended up walking the hallways with Haseul. She was honestly the only thing that made you feel normal in this place.

When the two of you got back you were tired and worn out from the walk. It didn’t seem like a long distance to most but you definitely were feeling it.

You found your spot back in the treatment room, sitting in your chair and reclining it back. Just as you were going to close your eyes Haseul called your name.

“Y/N. You’ve got a visitor would you like her to come back?” Haseul didn’t bother to open the curtain to tell you who it was so being the curious girl you were, you allowed it.

Sana walked in with a smile on her face, it was like your sunshine on a cloudy day. It was clear she had just finished school as she was still in her uniform, and she was wearing her backpack.

“Ho- Sana? Why? How did you even get in here?” You asked her through a laugh.

Sana responded “nobody stopped me downstairs and I know you’re on this floor. The lady at the desk outside was very nice too!”

You immediately sat up, not realizing that was a bad idea given your position. Closing your eyes tight you tapped your finger on the arm rest of your chair, waiting for the dizziness to stop.

When you opened your eyes you saw Sana in front of you, a frown on her face. It broke her heart to see you, her girlfriend, in this state. You always tried to make it seem like you weren’t sick but it was very obvious that you still were no matter how much you pretended otherwise.

She placed a blanket over you before running her thumb along your face and softly saying “my baby girl...”

You smiled at her knowing it might possibly make her less sad but it didn’t do much.

She could tell you were tired so she told you “it’s fine just sleep.”

By the time you woke up it was time for you to leave. Haseul had flushed your IV and took your vitals for the last time while you were asleep.

Your mother was downstairs in the parking garage waiting for you and Sana so you could go home.

It was clear by the look on your face that you felt nauseous, a common side effect of your treatment, from the second you stood up.

Sana gathered your things and help you put on your sweatshirt and bag before you two headed downstairs.

You interlocked you’re hand with hers as you felt dizzier with every step you took. She could tell you were having a hard time but she knows how much you try to hide it. When you both made it to the car you fell asleep almost instantly.

Sana helped you to your room, quickly helping you to bed before stealing some of your clothes to wear for herself.

You sleepily held out your arms for her, a soft whimper leaving your lips. She crawled under the covers and you immediately clung to her. You were shivering as if you were standing in snow with only a bathing suit on. Your hands and fingers started turning blue, indicating you body temperature was dropping, a side effect of treatments.

Sana pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head as your fingers curled around her shirt, holding her close.

It only took ten seconds before you started sobbing into her chest. As much as you wanted to pretend you were fine and not in pain, you couldn’t hide it anymore. Breaking down in her arms you sobbed until you fell asleep. She felt terrible knowing there was nothing she could do to fix it, but she knew that you appreciated her being there for you.

You only slept for an hour before you woke up in a cold sweat. Your t shirt clung to your back as you kicked off your blankets seeking some sort of way to cool yourself down. That did little to nothing so you scrambled to the bathroom hoping cold water would do the trick.

Sana knew this was yet another side effect of your treatment, a high fever. Your cheeks burned red as you splashed your face with water in the sink. Much to your relief it worked and you were finally able to get back in bed with her.

Your girlfriend held you in her arms tight as if she never wanted to let go.

“Thank you...” You softly spoke as she drew small circles along the small of your back.

“For what?” She asked curiously.

You mumbled “everything...just everything you do for me.”

She giggled softly “you know i’d do anything for you baby.”

Mumbling softly you told her “i love you.”

She responded quickly “i love you too.”

Letting your eyes close you further melted into her embrace as she tightened her arms around you. In the back of your mind you were reminded why you always said i love you before you fell asleep. Besides the fact that you did in fact love her, but if you happened not to wake up tomorrow, the last thing she heard from you was those three words.

Nevertheless you hoped and prayed you’d wake up in the morning to see her smiling face.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Getting away with it (2/?)

Summary: August Walker was dead. At least that’s what people believed for almost 2 years. When the CIA found reason to believe that he was alive they made it their top priority to find him. Including sending one of their best female agents to recruit his twin brother. Walter Marshall.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (Walker) + Walter Marshall x Reader (Walker)

Warnings: none yet

Wordcount: 2.457

A/N: We’re slowly getting started with the plot. Hope you like it :)

Masterlist

Part 1

Taglist:

@ladyreapermc / @theolsdalova / @greenmanalishi / @itsmydreamlifethings / @palaiasaurus64 / @celestial-vomit / @penwieldingdreamer/ @notyourtypicalrose / @babypink224221 / @fanficsrusz / @solariumss / @starlite13 / @ly–canthrope / @mytbel0st / @oddsnendsfanfics / @ravenpuff02 / @sofiebstar / @chamomilebottom / @keiva1000 / @agniavateira / @peaceinourtime82 / @dearlybelovedluke / @vania-marie / @wildwavehc / @fcgrizi / @mary-ann84 / @ayamenimthiriel / @radaofrivia / @ohjules/ @omgkatinka / @xceafh /  @diehadess / @watermeloncavill

@its-jb86 / @singeramg / @mrrightismrreeves / @mis-lil-red  (I can’t tag you guys. Sorry)

Cemetery, Langley, Virginia, 2 years ago

It was a rainy day. The skies hang dark, the rain pouring down. A typical day for a funeral. But then again it really wasn’t a funeral in the least. August watched the few people that were standing around an empty grave from his hiding spot behind a tree. He could see the silhouette of his wife who was holding Evie close. He couldn’t see her face, and knowing her she wouldn’t be shedding a tear for him. 

She didn’t understand why he had to do, what he was still planning on doing. Making the world a better place for the next generation. His daughters generation.

Ever since he knew he would be a father August did everything with his daughters best interest in mind. Even if it meant lying to Walker about it. Knowing her she would be furious at him for his lies. He knew her like the back of his hand, she would blame herself for everything that happened before she would finally blame him.

But who really was to blame was the world. Their corrupt leaders. The politics. The weak people who didn’t stand up for themselves. That was why he wanted to steal those plutonium cores. So only the strong survived. Like him. His wife. His daughter.

Evie would make a great leader one day, he was sure of it.

“We have to go.” A voice whispered behind him, making his head snap over his shoulder, glaring at one of his remaining members.

“I’ll find you at the drop point.” August nearly growled.

“Yes Sir.” The man stammered, walking away immediately. 

August didn’t know when or if he would see his family ever again. So he watched them for a couple minutes more as they were standing around the empty grave, silently saying goodbye, before he turned around and left them for good.

CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

“You tell me, Agent Walker, that you didn’t know your husband was the leader of a terrorist group? And you call yourself CIA…” The older Agent mocked.

“Like I told you the last 15 times. I haven’t seen August in almost 3 months before he died. Yes I recognized that his behaviour changed, that he stayed out longer, that he changed the passwords of his devices. But honestly? I was thinking he was having an affair. I would have prefered if he had an affair. What would you think if your wife suddenly stayed out longer? Would your first thought be that she must surely be leading a terrorist group?” Walker asked. The older Agent crossed his arms in front of his chest as he looked down at her. It was her fourth constant day of being interrogated. And she didn’t have any answers. She knew this was frustrating for the CIA, but it was even more frustrating for her.

She had been allowed a week for herself after news broke of the attack. She had brought Evie over to her Mom’s place and had spent the whole night drinking in front of the TV watching the news. She kept looking down at her wedding ring. Remembering the day she agreed to be his wife so detailed, she wanted to drink until she forgot it. Forgot what happened. 

Walker knew August had been hiding something. It was in the year Evie was born that he had started to change. He kept being on the phone instead of talking to her. The only time he really was present was when he was taking care of Evie. He was a good father. That probably was the reason she kept her mouth shut, when he snapped at her. She could see how sorry he was after he yelled at her after every single time. 

“I’m doing all I’m doing for your and Evie. I want you to live your life in safety.” 

The sentence kept repeating in her head. It was what he always said when they had another argument. When his arms were wrapped around her and he was kissing her head. After they had sex and he was pressed against her back, his leg over hers, his hand beneath her head. She always felt safe in his arms. She would probably even forgive him if he had a simple affair. But when three weeks ago the CIA was contacted with the real identity of John Lark, and she was sent to London to get through to him…

She would never forget the look in his eyes. How he looked right through her as she talked to him.

“August please. You know this will end with you dead. You know that. There is no way you can escape the CIA. There will be no place on this planet they won’t search for you.” Walker pleaded, standing across from him. August breathed in deep, his whole posture on edge.

“Please leave now.” August growled.

“What should I tell Evie, hm? When she asks about her father? Should I tell her he’s a insane terrorist who wants to kill a third of the world's population?” Walker asked.

“I’m doing this for her.”

“Yeah… You keep saying that, but do you believe it?” Walker reached for her gun. 

“You really think you can shoot me?” August mocked.

“Someone has to.” Walker breathed.

“How will you tell Evie that you murdered her Father?” He asked.

“I will make sure that she won’t remember you.” 

An explosion had interrupted their argument, giving August the perfect chance for his escape. Walker had met with Ethan after she had gotten out, telling him everything that could help him to take August down. With which he had apparently succeeded. Or so he thought.

“You will be helping us to get every detail of his life. We need to be prepared for what’s coming.” The older Agent said.

“I already told you everything I know.”

“You have to tell us about your daughter.”

“Absolutely not.” Walker shook her head.

“There is no room for argument her, Agent Walker.”

“You will leave my two year old daughter, who just lost her father out of this. Me you can have. I don’t care what you do with me. But Evie? No way.”

Minneapolis, Minnesota, now

“She’s not going to bite my finger?” Evie asked concerned, looking up at Walker. Grinning Walker knelt down next to ther.

“She’s not going to bite your finger. Look at her. She just wants that yummy lettuce you are holding.” Walker explained, earning a sigh from her Daughter. They had spend the whole day at the zoo and Evie had been so excited to feed the giraffe. Until she was standing in front of it. 

“Hmm…. ‘kay.” Evie said. Walker chuckled as she got back on her feet again, Evie clutched her hand as she slowly walked towards the giraffe. Walker nodded thankful at the keeper. Holding out the lettuce in front of her, Evie stepped closer to the giraffe who immediately spotted her snack and bend closer, her big tongue grabbing the lettuce from Evie, making her giggle.

“That… tickles.” The little girl giggled excited.

“See? And all your fingers are still there.” Walker smiled, making Evie breathe out relieved.

“Can we do that again?” She asked.

“Next time. If I remember correctly we have a date with the water slide at the hotel…”

“YAY!” Evie jumped

However these plans were interrupted when Walker got back to the space she parked her rental car in, finding it nowhere to be seen. She remembered exactly where she parked the car. 

“Motherf….” She cursed, stopping as she looked at Evie.

“Where is our car?” Evie asked confused.

“I’ve been just asking myself the same question, Buttercup.” Walker sighed. She was already reaching for her phone, calling 911. After a quick call to the local police station Walker had to come clear that her rental car had been stolen. Calling an Uber to the police station she waited while Evie was collecting Daisies on the side of the road. 

“What are you doing?” Walker asked. There was no point in getting upset over the stolen car. That was what insurances were for. It’s not like she couldn’t change it.

“Making you a Daisy crown.” Evie laughed.

With a bag full of collected daisies they stepped inside the police station. Evie was holding her mother's hand in a tight grasp, being intimidated by all these big men walking around her. Evie only really knew her grandfather and Uncle Miller, how she called Agent Miller. Ever since August died Walker hadn’t been involved with anyone. Too afraid of getting hurt again. Walker was just about to tell the police man in front of her why she was here, when she heard her name being called. A shiver ran through her body when she heard that voice. How could she have forgotten that he could be here. Looking down at Evie who was hugging her leg, she thought of what to do when Marshall made his way over to her.

“What brings you here?” Marshall asked, nodding to the other police officer who excused himself.

“It looks like my rental car has been stolen. We came here straight from the zoo.” She smiled uncomfortably, her hand coming down on top of Evie’s head. Evie was looking up at Marshall with a frown. Like she was trying to figure out where she knew him from.

“Well that su…” Marshall looked down at Evie, clearing his throat. “That’s not good.” He continued making Walker nod her head, sucking in her bottom lip to keep herself from laughing.

“Yeah. We had a date with a water slide, didn’t we Evie?” Walker asked. Evie nodded. Marshall got down on his knees to look at Evie. Walker held her breath, trying to control the numerous feelings inside her body as she watched the two of them. It seemed so familiar, yet so different. Even if August and Marshall were twins, the way Marshall smiled at Evie, holding out his hand which Evie took hesitantly to shake. Marshall looked up at Walker, his hair a wild mess on top of his head, a small smile on his face. Swallowing she sighed.

“You have the same hair as I do. Mommy always says I got them from my Daddy.” Evie said, her hand hesitantly reaching out towards Marshall but not really touching him.

“Really?” Marshall asked. Evie nodded.

“He died when I was littleler.” Evie shrugged, hugging Walkers leg closer.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Marshall said to her, then looking up at Walker.She closed her eyes and breathed in deep. He got up from his knees, his musky smell with a hint of aftershave getting to Walkers nose. When she opened her eyes and looked up at him she could see the sympathy in his. For a little moment she let herself get lost in his eyes, recognizing the many things that were different from August, finding so much sadness in them that seemed to mirror her own she had to shake her head after a while to look away from him.

“Let’s see if we can find your car.” Marshall said quietly. 

Sitting in his office Walker knew he was about to find out who she really was, and possibly who she had been married to. Chances were that he already knew who August was. His face had been spread over the news for weeks after the incident. Thankfully her name and Evie’s were never brought up.

“You wanna draw something while we do this grown up stuff, Evie?” Marshall asked. Evie nodded excited as she sat in the chair next to Walker, already reaching for the pencil Marshall handed her, getting right into drawing, oh wonder, a bunny. Chuckling Walker looked from her to Marshall.

“She’s obsessed with bunnies.” She said, making Marshall smile a little.

“I remember Faye being obsessed with bunnies too when she was that age.”

“You have a daughter too?”

“Yeah. She’s living with her mother.” Marshall swallowed, looking away from Walker to type into his computer.

“Now… I need your full name and address.” He said.

“You sure you have time for this? How long has it been since you last filed a robbery report?” Walker asked.

“A while. And yes, I’m sure.” He looked up at her with the hint of a smirk.

“Okay. Then let me make this easier…” Walker sighed, reaching for her badge in her purse, sliding it over the table. Marshall looked down from the badge, up to her face, a line forming between his eyes as he typed her badge number into the computer.

The silence that spread that was only interrupted from the pencil running over the paper where Evie was drawing. Sucking in her bottom lip, a thing Walker only did when she was nervous, she waited if Marshall would connect the dots right away. She heard his calm breathing as he typed and clicked, before he pushed the badge back to her, his eyes still on the computer screen in front of him. 

Seconds stretched into minutes before Marshall finally looked up at her. His eyes confused and cold.

“You were married to…” He looked down at Evie, not finishing the sentence.

“I saw the news back then. It was like looking into a mirror. I tried to find out more, but everything was classified.” He said quietly.  Walker breathed in deep.

“I think I can answer most of your questions. But… not here.” She motioned to Evie who was still drawing. Marshall looked at her a little longer before his eyes were on Walkers again.

“Okay. Then let’s just file that report first.” He nodded.

It only took 15 minutes to file the report she needed to get to the rental car service and her insurance company.  Evie had drawn a whole army of bunnies when they were finished, gifting Marshall one of her drawings, which made him smile.

“I’ll be at your hotel at 9pm, like we discussed.” He said as he escorted Walker and Evie outside.

“Just go straight up to our room. I don’t want to leave her alone.” Walker agreed, seeing him nod.

“Thank you for your help today, Marshall.” She said honestly.

“You’re welcome.” He nodded.

“Thank you Mr. Policeman.” Evie smiled up at him. Marshall chuckled.

“You are more than welcome Evie.” He said, holding out his hand which Evie shook wildly, making the adults laugh.Walker took Evie’s hand to walk away when Marshall looked at her.

“Was he my brother?” Marshall asked quietly. Walker stepped closer to him.

“He is your brother.” She said, her eyes not leaving his, before she nodded and turned around to take Evie back to the hotel.