#after he’s stopped sharing his location because now my mind is running rampant thinking someone fucking did something to them or there was a

[weirdlittlefish]

really wanting a hug or any kind of physical affection/comfort right now

[reinersbb]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 / 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔] Chapter One- Pumpkin Spice

DISCLAIMER: I do not own AOT/SNK or the characters.

WARNING 18+: Heavy Sexual Themes/SMUT, Alcohol Consumption, Drug Usage, Profanity, Violence, and Some Uncomfortable Themes.

Click away now if you’re uncomfortable with anything listed above.

The fresh mid-October air plunged into your lungs after inhaling deeply through your nostrils as soon as you broke through the doors belonging to the lecture hall. Though the temperature outside was brisk, the sun was still shining above brightly. The white blotchy clouds were condensed together almost like puzzle pieces that were yet to fit together.

You were grateful for perfect weather on a day like this, and couldn't help but smile to yourself out of pure bliss. Because in all honesty, being stuck inside of lectures for the majority of the day wasn't ideal, but you sure were paying good money for it.

Pinching at the thin cotton material of your jacket, you pulled the fabric closer against your body when a gust of wind whipped past you. Maybe you should've thrown on a thicker jacket, but it's not like you took the initiative to check the weather for the day ahead when your attention was focused on making it out of your dorm room before being late for your eight am. Stopping at a large water fountain that was positioned perfectly center in the intersection of two walkways, you took a slight step with your left foot to turn and look around at all of the people floating about. Awkwardly searching for a particular face in the crowd as the sound of water gently overlapping played in your ears from the old fountain. Today, you had plans to hang out with your boyfriend, the plan was to meet up with him at this exact location. 'Maybe he's running late...' When another two minutes passed of you keeping an eye out for his familiar face, and there was still no sight of your boyfriend, you pulled out your phone to see if he'd sent you a text of his whereabouts or any piece of information. A clear notification screen surprised you, maybe even worried you just the slightest bit, but you shoved that hollow feeling down deep inside of you to tried to ignore it. 'Okay, maybe I should just text him.' Today 15:04 Where are you?✓ Your message had been sent, all you had to do now was play the very annoying waiting game. 'He wouldn't just ghost you for no reason without an explanation.' You tried reasoning with yourself. Your eyes tore away from your phone screen, deciding it was better to distract yourself with something instead of aimlessly waiting around for who knows how long. With only one glance around the perimeter, you elected that a nearby coffee cart parked further down away would be your means of distraction. What's a better distraction than caffeine? As you closed in on the dark oak wooden coffee cart, you couldn't help but notice a familiar face standing behind the cash register. The young man stood slumped over, a disengaged expression on his face, almost as if he were frowning. You lifted a brow quizically, taking the last few steps of your stride towards the cart. The man with blond hair and prominent sideburns perked up behind the register as you stood adjacent to him, "(L/N), is that you?" "Yeah, hey, Thomas! I didn't know you worked here. It's been a while since we've last spoke, how have you been?" You smiled, reminiscing in the few friendly memories you shared together. Thomas was in your German class at the beginning of the semester until you decided to drop the class and swap your minor out for French instead. There hasn't been much or any conversation between the two of you since then. "I just started two weeks ago, and about that..." the slight smile he'd managed to put on his face when you originally approached the cart faded away momentarily, "not so good actually," his cheeks flushed out of embarrassment and his smile kept wavering. "What happened? Are you okay?" You asked, genuinely concerned about your friends' feelings. "My girlfriend broke up with me yesterday," he admitted with a sigh. "Mina?" You asked and Thomas nodded, "that must suck, weren't you and her together for a while?" You could remember the few mentions of his ex-girlfriend in some of the conversations you had together before. "Since junior year of high school, she was my first girlfriend," his light brown eyes fell to the counter. "It was so... all of a sudden. She didn't even tell me why, but, in all honesty, I think it was for another guy," his fingertips tapped away at the counter anxiously. Hearing Thomas tell you about the recent breakup with his ex made your stomach twist and turn into knots for some unknown reason. There was suddenly a burning temptation to check your phone, but you refrained from doing so. "I'm sorry to hear that, and I wish there was something I could say to make you magically feel better," you shot him a sympathetic smile when he finally lifted his eyes to look up at you. "You know, I kind of feel a little bit better talking to you about it," Thomas admitted with a meek chuckle. "Anyways," he flicked the brim of his visor, "enough about me, is there anything I could get you?" He suggested to the menu of drinks. "Surprise me?" A small grin pulled at his lips, "on it." You couldn't help but notice how Thomas's emotions seemed to have pulled a full one-eighty compared to when you saw him standing idle behind the counter just a few minutes ago. "Here you go, one large pumpkin spice latte from our seasonal menu," Thomas reached over the counter, handing you a rather large paper cup, "careful, (L/N), it's hot." You accepted the latte with slight hesitation, "thanks, how much do I owe you?" You were struggling to reach your wallet inside of your purse when Thomas said, "don't worry about it, the drink is on me." "Are you sure? Because I can-" "Think of it as thanks for talking to me," Thomas showed a genuine smile while plucking a napkin from a dispenser to give to you, "just in case you need one of these." "Fine, but I'm paying for my next drink," you said, but still feeling reluctant to just walk away without paying for the drink. Quickly, you reached into your purse, feeling around for any loose money lying about. After a few seconds, you swiftly inserted a few crumpled bills and loose change into the nearly empty tip jar without even examining the tip amount. Thomas laughed after watching your efforts, "see you around, (L/N)." "Bye! Thanks again, Thomas," you sipped on your hot beverage as you steadily walked away from the coffee cart. When you passed by someone looking down at their phone, it reminded you to check yours to see if there was any response from your significant other. To no avail, there were no new messages on your lock screen, only a single notification that alerted you of a spam email message. You tabbed into your text messages once again because the curiosity gnawed away at your insides. Today 15:02 Where are you?✓✓ Immediately you felt your heart sink through your chest as you noticed that he'd definitely read your message. The same annoying worrisome thoughts intruded your mind once again, and this time it was difficult clearing them from your headspace. Today 15:09 Floch?✓ Unfortunately, the smile you had plastered on your face quickly faded away. You groaned under your breath, casually placing the hot beverage just at your lips, the scent of various warm spices tickled your nose as you precariously watched the chat bubbles appear then disappear, and reappear once again. The hot liquid almost scorched your mouth as you anxiously drew in a sip, and then another, all while waiting for his response. A sense of bile rose through your throat as the chat bubble disappeared and finally a response from Floch appeared. You read the message over and over again, trying to decipher if there was some hidden intent behind it. Floch❤���: I'm at your dorm building The page stilled for a moment when the second message of his came through. Floch ❤️: We need to talk 'We need to talk... that could only mean one thing.' In a complete utter panic, and with every intent on running to your dorm room, you forced your phone into the depths of your pocket. You carelessly cut a sharp right, the thoughts in your head running rampant as you headed for your dorm to see what it was exactly your boyfriend wanted to talk about. Your mistake was forgetting to double-check for any people around you before taking off into a sprint. Because now you came into contact with what felt like a slab of concrete in a head-on collision. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. The fresh latte flew from your grasp and tumbled onto the sidewalk, splashing you with its scorching hot liquid mid-process. Your purse fell from off of your arm as you landed flat on your back in front of everyone, and your victim had fallen to the ground with you- wait- on top of you? "I'm so fucking sorry," you hissed at the burning sensation from the drink, but also at the pain you felt from falling onto your back, the contents of your backpack digging into you. Hovering above you was a man dressed in a heather grey tracksuit. In one ear was an earbud, while the other earbud was detached and dangling in your face from the neck slit of his hoodie. A few pieces of his hair fell over his forehead and the sides of his face. You swore you could hear the faintest music pumping through his earbuds. You blinked a few times, unsure if you were seeing things clearly as he pushed himself off of you and held out a hand for you to take. Without another word, or any hesitation whatsoever, you placed your hand into his and he firmly clasped it, pulling you up onto the solid ground. The two of you bumped into each other but you promptly took a step back after you found your equilibrium. "I hope I didn't crush you, are you alright?" "Huh?" your eyelashes fluttered together rapidly, snapping yourself out of the weird trance you were in. The unnamed man chuckled dryly, "are you okay? That was quite a nasty fall. I hope I didn't break you or anything," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, but overall it seemed that he was genuinely concerned about your well-being. "Oh, yeah, I'll be okay," you said, taking a look at your ruined jacket and shirt that was damp and beginning to grow cold from the latte, "shit." His intense light brown eyes stared down past your feet, examining the spoilt cup of coffee and the rest of the scene itself. "Here," he scooped up your purse from off of the ground for you. You awkwardly accepted your purse from the man and readjusted both straps of your backpack on your shoulders. As he stood in front of you, you couldn't help but stare at him, fully taking in his features. He was tall. Much taller than your boyfriend. His long jaw was sharp and perfectly lined with facial hair. His hair was long and a nice shade of light ash-brown and seemed to be shaved on the sides like an undercut. But, it was hard to tell since locks and strands of his hair were sporadic from the fall. Some pieces of his hair were stuck to his forehead from a thin layer of sweat. It was now that you realized how his chest was rising and falling rather rapidly with quick heavy breaths. It seemed that he'd been on a jog before you came crashing into him, at least it would explain the outfit. "Again, I'm sorry for running into you like a crazy person," you breathed out an anxious breath, "but I have to get going now, I have somewhere to be." You snatched the littered coffee cup from off of the ground and shoved it into the nearest wastebasket as you cleared the scene. You could've sworn that you heard the man calling out to you, but you refused to turn around, leaving him in the same exact spot of the incident. All you wanted to do was get to your dorm, talk to your boyfriend, and change clothes. **************** "Hey babe," you said uneasily as you saw Floch standing outside of your dorm. Floch had his back pressed against the door, his eyes glued to his phone, and his face was expressionless as the blue light fanned over his skin. When he heard your voice, he slowly tucked his phone away into his front pants pocket. Forwarding his attention to you, you opened your arms widely to greet him with a hug, but at the last second, you decided against it due to your damp top. "What the hell happened to you? You look like shit," he said with a slight chuckle as he examined your appearance. His words stung a great amount, causing you to bite at the inside of your lip, but you ignored him. "I fell on my way over here, my latte spilled on me in the process," you groaned, remembering the incident that happened not even ten minutes ago. "Do you want to come inside and talk while I change out of this mess?" You asked, heading for the door with your key. "No, I wanted to make this quick actually," he exhaled uneasily. "Okay," you wrapped your arms around your chest, holding onto yourself tightly. Your pulse quickened at the suspense, and the air around you could be cut with a knife while you waited for him to speak. It felt like an eternity had passed until those dreadful words left his lips. "There's no easy way for me to say this, so I'm just going to come right off the bat by saying that I think we should break up and see other people." Those dreadful words felt like the ripping of a bandaid, that or a complete slap to the face. The horrible predictions you tried to ignore happened to be true. Oh, how you wished you were wrong. You stared at him like a deer caught in headlights, trying to make sure that you heard him correctly. "Wha.. what?" you croaked, your mouth was dry. The silence was deafening, and the ringing sensation buzzed your ears. You watched as Floch's mouth moved, but no words could be heard over the persistent ringing in your ears. Floch gracelessly went for a hug, and even though you wanted to hug him- cling onto him and try to talk things out, he'd already let go of you. The bitter scent of citrus, the smell of him, plagued you and almost brought you to your knees with a wave of emotions following along with it. "I'm sorry," you were finally able to hear him once again. "Floch... can't we just step inside my room and talk things over?" You didn't want to sound like you were begging for him to stay, but you didn't just want to break up as if your relationship meant nothing either. "Are you sure about this?" You and Floch had been dating for not as long as Thomas and Mina were dating, but you two were going to be going on three months whenever the next month arrived. The two of you met on your first day at university, somehow he charmed you in a dorkish-way and the rest was history. And all this time you were thinking that you were in love with him. "(Y/N), it's been fun, but I think we'd just be better off going separate ways," Floch took two steps back as he stared at you, but your eyes weren't on him, but rather at his feet. "Again, I'm sorry for this." The sounds of footsteps grew distant until there was no more sound left, as your eyes stayed nailed to the spot where he once stood. He was gone. For good. You blinked an infrequent amount of times, only being pulled out of your hypnotic state when the sound of people walking down the hall caught your attention. As soon as you looked up to examine the hall, you made contact with some girl who was blatantly staring at you. Ignoring the unknown girl, you turned to your door and fumbled with the lock and key for more than a handful of tries. But eventually, you pushed through the oak door with a breeze you closed it behind you. As soon as you were alone in the dimly lit room is when a wave of emotions overcame you and the tears began rolling uncontrollably.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Uneasy Lies the Head

Follow up to Royal Romance AU Fanfic ‘Charlotte’s Choice’

Drake, Kiara and Bastein travel to Monte Carlo to find Drake’s sister Savannah

7 Monaco

Two days after Kiara had offered to help Drake look for his sister in Monaco, Bastien sent word that he had a solid lead. Drake already had a bag packed, and he sent word to Kiara that they could leave as soon as she was ready.

They met at the courtyard in front of the Palace, and Charlotte made sure to be there to say goodbye. Kiara arrived by car and transferred almost immediately into one of the Palace Guard’s SUVs. She got into the back while the driver put her bags in the boot, and Drake held Charlotte tight before kissing her on the cheek and pulling back to look at her. Her eyes were welling up with tears and she gave him a weak smile.

‘You take care Drake Walker, and come back to me’ she said ‘I’ll be counting the hours. I hope you find Savannah and bring her back safe – tell her whatever the reason she left, she’ll always have a place at the Palace – or anywhere else she wants to stay’

‘Believe me, I don’t want to spend any more time than I have to away from you’ Drake reassured her ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, and hopefully we can take Savvy to Texas with us before the wedding’ He scanned her face, committing every pore to memory to sustain him for their separation. ‘Goodbye Charlie, I’ll be thinking of you, my sweet Princess – Queen of my Heart’

‘My darling’ said Charlotte, blowing him a kiss before he got into the front passenger seat, and the car drew away.

Drake spoke for a while with the driver over details of the journey. Bastien had followed a lead and pinned down his sister’s possible location to Monte Carlo. Monaco was not a cheap place to live, so somebody must be supporting her, he thought – or was she working there? His mind had run rampant with ideas of her in a casino as a croupier, or a maid in one of the luxury hotels – or a cleaner or maid to some eccentric billionaire.

Kiara seemed restless, and when they stopped for a comfort break, as he was about to get back in the front passenger seat, she caught his arm.

‘Monsiuer – Duke Walker, it would be better if you sat in the back with me, n’est ce pas? We need to discuss our options, how to approach your sister, think of what circumstances she might be living under’ Drake swallowed, looking at her small hand gripping his forearm – she let go under his gaze. ‘But if you do not want to – your fiancée made it plain that she mistrusts me’ He gave her a faint smile.

‘Very well Kiara. I’ll sit with you, and we can lay down some ground rules’ He got in and they sat apart on the back seat. He left down the privacy screen that separated them from the driver. She smiled as they set off again.

‘It is much more comfortable in the back, is it not?’ she said

‘There’s certainly more leg room than I expected’ he said. He half turned to her ‘Kiara, I know I had quite a reputation before the social season. Let me tell you, since I was accepted onto the list of suitors, there’s been no other woman in my mind or my affections than Charlotte.’ Kiara’s expression was unreadable – as a diplomat she had most certainly learned to hide her feelings.

‘Mais Oui, I understand. You never seemed to be fixed on any particular lady in the court – or out of it. I observed that you were always close to her Majesty.’ Drake let out his breath.

‘Charlotte shouldn’t be afraid that I’ll go back to my old ways’ he said ‘She always held my heart, but when I realised she might marry someone else – well I realised she was the only one I wanted’ Kiara nodded.

‘Anyone can see how devoted you are to her, Monsieur. I hope some day to discover someone who finds me as desirable.’ She locked eyes with him, and he cleared his throat.

‘Good, then we understand each other. Now, let’s talk about what we’re going to do when we get to Monte Carlo. You’ve been there a lot, so I hope you’ll be able to guide Bastien and myself’ The rest of the journey was spent going over details and working out what they would do in different scenarios. Kiara smoothed things over passing over the border, and they were soon in Monte Carlo, cruising the seafront overlooking the marina that was overflowing with luxury yachts.

They parked in a multi story carpark attached to their four star hotel and went inside to meet Bastien in the restaurant for lunch. It afforded a spectacular view across the harbour, and soft music played, the sunlight offset by air conditioning. The decor was understated but every detail screamed luxury, and nothing was plastic that did not need to be – the tabletops were marble, the chairs ergonomically designed for maximum comfort whilst facilitating good posture. The table settings were elegant and fresh flower decorations graced every surface that was not designated for eating. A few other tables were taken and there was a low hum of conversation.

The guard stood to greet them and Drake noted that he looked in much better health. They sat and started to look over the menu. Drake wrestled with the selection, dismayed at the complexity and range of what was available, and the fact that most of it was in French. Despite all his years of living in the Palace he was still a man of simple tastes thanks to his commoner parents. Kiara looked at him sideways, and put the menu down, summoning a waiter.

‘I think we will order a selection of panini’ she said ‘no need to overcomplicate things, n’est ce pas?’ Drake nodded thankfully and Bastien smiled – he too was not accustomed to fancy food.

Despite their simple order, the food was presented impeccably and accompanied by a delicate salad. Drake wished he had put in an order for French fries and discovered that Kiara had thought of that too, as a second waitress came across with another tray. He was hungry, and they had all eaten half of what was there before they started the discussion.

‘Your Grace – Walker’ started Bastien, looking at Kiara to ascertain how informal he should be ‘We’ve tracked Savannah down to an apartment complex overlooking the harbour, only a short distance away. We’ve watched her to find out her daily routine.’ He held Drake’s gaze ‘She doesn’t venture out often, but she seems to have regular visitors, most of whom are male’ Drake swallowed, his mind racing, but remained silent. Kiara’s face was still unreadable. ‘She has the services of a maid, and her visitors are well presented – wealthy and respectable’

‘What are you trying to say, Bas?’ asked Drake ‘You’re missing out something’ Bastien’s expression changed, and he reached out to put his hand on Drake’s.

‘I’m sorry Walker, there is no easy way to say this - it appears your sister is a high class escort.’ He heard Kiara’s sharp intake of breath, and he pressed his fingers to his forehead, suddenly no longer hungry, his food lying like a stone in his stomach. His baby sister – how had she ended up like this?

‘Have you – does she know she’s being watched? Have you contacted her?’ he said in a slightly strangled voice. Bastien drew his hand back.

‘I don’t believe she knows we have found her, no. I thought it best to leave any contact until your arrival, though we are watching her round the clock in case she moves.’

‘How long – when did you find out?’ Drake asked, drawing his fingers down over his jaw, his head spinning. The idea of his sister entertaining men for money – his heart cracked, knowing it was his fault – she had left because he had not paid enough attention to her, been too preoccupied to notice any signs that she was unhappy.

‘A couple of days ago’ the guard replied ‘I thought it best to tell you in person’ Drake let out his breath.

‘How do you think we should handle this? I have to talk to her, but she obviously doesn’t want to see me or she’d have been in touch before’ Bastien shifted uncomfortably.

‘I think we should set up a meeting as if she has a new client who wants to meet up, see if they are compatible. Lady Kiara, what is your opinion on the matter?’

‘Does she have anyone watching her apart from us?’ she looked at Drake apologetically ‘for want of a better term, a pimp?’ Drake’s lunch threatened to make a reappearance and he felt the colour drain from his face. Bastien remained calm.

‘No, she appears to run her affairs independently from what we can tell.’ He said in a level tone.

‘In that case, mes amis, we should get her to come here, to this hotel, invite her for an evening meal, then it is neutral territory. We need the request to be credible, her client must be wealthy and respectable, and have no obvious link with Cordonia’ She rummaged in her handbag for her phone. ‘As it happens, I have a good friend here – a diplomat, who lives here. May I contact him?’ Drake looked at Bastien, who nodded.

‘By all means Lady Kiara, please do’ She attended to the screen, and held the phone to her ear.

‘Pascalle? Bonjour, it has been a while.’ She dropped into French, and Drake frowned at her. She nodded, and changed to English. In a few moments, she had arranged for her friend to contact Savannah and there was nothing to do but sit back and wait.

Drake checked into his room, which he was pleased to see was a good distance away from Kiara’s, and next to the twin room Bastien shared with one of his men. The guard’s room was being used as a base of operation for his team of four people – himself, Lewis, the driver and Jones, whom Drake did not know well but was obviously a trusted member of Bastien’s crew. The guards had two twin rooms while he and Kiara had singles. He found it comforting that his room, despite being more than adequate in size, only sported a single bed and had a balcony overlooking the marina and the terrace bar below. Kiara’s room was on the other side of the corridor and he speculated that she did not have a sea view.

It wasn’t long before Kiara knocked on his door to let him know that her friend had made contact, and that fortuitously Savannah had agreed to meet him that night. He had arranged to hire a suite at the same hotel and would set the room up as if dinner were to be served, and they would pay the bill. Under instruction from Bastien, he was to welcome her in and he, Drake and Kiara would wait in the adjoining bedroom to emerge once she had entered and settled. Lewis would be in the corridor outside in case she attempted to leave, though Drake hoped she would not.

Later that evening, the three of them gathered in the suite, which was far more luxurious than the rooms any of them had. The table had been set at the window overlooking the sea view. Kiara greeted her friend with a kiss to both cheeks. He was tall, tanned and handsome, with an air of gravitas.

‘Pascalle, merci beaucoup for helping us. This is mademoiselle’s brother, Duke Drake Walker, and this is Mr Lykel, head of the Cordonian Royal Guard.’ Pascalle shook hands with the two men.

‘I would appreciate it if this matter is kept strictly in confidence, Mr…’ Bastien asked

‘Le Chanterelle’ he replied ‘Of course, I am always discrete. After all, once the marriage has taken place, Mademoiselle will be sister in law to the Queen of Cordonia, n’est ce pas?’

‘Indeed’ agreed Bastien. ‘I hope that Mademoiselle Walker will return to Cordonia to be with her brother after we have confronted her, and this matter will remain undiscovered’ The three of them had discussed keeping Drake’s identity and his sister’s secret, but his face was getting better known, and Kiara assured them that Pascalle was very discreet.

‘She will be here soon – please, go into the other room, I will be ready to welcome her’ The three trooped into the bedroom, and Kiara sat on the edge of the bed. She looked calm, and Bastien was focussed – but Drake felt terrible. His heart thudded in his chest and his stomach churned. What would Savannah’s reaction be? Would she be pleased to see him – or angry – or sad? He had no idea, and he paced the room.

Bastien put his hand up, indicating that something was happening. He stood stock still, holding his breath, and listened. Bastien had heard the knock – now the door opened, and there was the murmur of voices. Drake squeezed his eyes shut as he heard his sister’s voice, the words indistinct but the tone unmistakeable, light and friendly. Bastien stood by the door listening intently, and it seemed an age before he made another signal. Drake heard footsteps approaching the door, and Pascalle opened it.

‘Monsieur’ he said quietly, and waved Drake through. In a dream he walked into the room. Savannah stood looking out of the window, dressed alluringly in a clinging silver gown, floor length but slit to the thigh. She had her back to him and her shoulders were bare. He cleared his throat.

‘Savvy’ he said simply, and she whirled, a look of surprise and panic on her face. Her legs crumpled under her and he shot forward to support her before she hit the ground.

‘D-Drake – what are you doing here?’ she gasped ‘How did you find me? Did Anton send you?’ Drake gritted his teeth at the hated name.

‘Savvy’ he said softly ‘Why did you leave? Why didn’t you come to me? I’d do anything for you, you should know that’ She pulled away from him and bolted for the door in panic, only to have Bastien beat her to it, barring her way. She stumbled back and looked wildly around for support, collapsing onto a nearby chair. She buried her face in her hands and began to weep. Kiara entered quietly and pulled up a chair next to her. She put her hands on her back, soothing her as she sobbed and shuddered.

‘Depeche toi, mon amie’ she said quietly ‘It’s alright, we came to help you. Tell us what happened’ Savannah continued to sob, and Pascalle came out of the other room to excuse himself and leave.  Drake gestured for Kiara to move away, and took her place, bending to her level to coax Savannah into calming down.

‘Savvy, whatever it is, it’s okay. I just want to help you – I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. Please forgive me. We can work things out, I promise.’ The young woman’s sobs slowed, and Bastien handed her a handkerchief. She sat up a little, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. Drake put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Little sis, please..’ She sniffled and sat up straight.

‘What must you think of me?’ she said, pulling her split skirt over her knees to hide her legs ‘I had to find something – some way of supporting myself, and Anton said – it wasn’t shameful, that lots of women do it…’ Drake inwardly cursed Anton, and balled his fists furiously. He took a deep breath and kept his voice calm.

‘What has Anton got to do with this Savvy – what did he – did he touch you?’ A note of aggression crept into his voice and he breathed deep again, closing his eyes. She turned to him as he opened them again, tears still brimming over.

‘Anton – he was so sweet, he found me, helped me when…’ she broke into sobs again, and Kiara brought her a glass of water, crouching in front of her.

‘Mon ami, we’re here to help you. Tell us what happened – start from the beginning. You asked me to teach you French, you must have had something planned’ Savannah looked at her and smiled weakly after taking a few sips of water.

‘Thankyou Kiara. You were always a good friend’ she looked up at Drake ‘I couldn’t tell you Drake, you’d have been so ashamed of me’ He took her hand and squeezed it.

‘Tell me Savvy – it’s killing me not knowing.’

‘You’ll be angry’ she said quietly

‘I promise to stay calm’ he said ‘Please Savvy…’ She sniffled again and blew her nose.

‘I – I was pregnant, Drake’ He closed his eyes and swallowed his feelings even as they bubbled up. Not anger, not with her – disappointment that she hadn’t told him. Yes, anger now – at whoever it was that had seduced his baby sister. She had barely been eighteen when she left. He breathed deep and when he spoke he could barely make himself heard.

‘Who, Savvy – who was it?’ She hiccupped and squeezed his hand tight before whispering

‘Duke Beaumont.’ His abused stomach was in ruins, and he could barely trust himself to speak.

‘Maxwell? Maxwell made – made you pregnant?’ She gasped as she heard his cracked voice.

‘No, no, not Maxwell – Bertrand’ His eyes flew open in astonishment ‘He – was always so kind to me – so patient, and one night – things just happened. I loved him so much, Drake. When I found out, I went to tell him, but – he wouldn’t listen, told me it was all a big mistake, that we couldn’t do it again, I should forget it ever happened.’ She looked down at her hands ‘Then I planned to run away, asked Kiara to teach me French – it wasn’t much but then – then I met Anton’

‘Anton?’ Drake half growled, overwhelmed already but needing to know the whole story. His head span and he heard her speak from a great distance.

‘Yes, I was crying in the garden at one of the balls, and Anton found me. You know, he’d only recently come to court after his father died. He asked me what was wrong, and offered to help me. He – he brought me here, and I was – was going to have the baby. He said he’d look after it like it was his own – he was so kind, Drake.’ She started crying again, and he held her tight as this time he could hear her tears were different, that there was something else she had to tell him.

‘Savvy, Savvy, you can tell me.’ He crooned. ‘I’ll make it better, I promise I’ll be a proper brother to you. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there for you’

‘You – I couldn’t tell you, you’d have been so disappointed’ she sobbed ‘But – but Drake – oh Drake’ she sobbed again, shoulders shaking and the next thing she said was a whisper ‘I lost the baby’ Drake’s heart dropped into his stomach and he thought he had never felt so much pain.

‘Savvy - I’m so, so sorry. You should have – why – why didn’t you tell me?’ He was fighting back hot tears, his voice breaking and Bastien watched them, his face sombre.

‘Anton said – he said you were busy, that you’d disown me’

‘Never Savvy, I’d never do that to you. Dad died – Mum left us – I’d never let you down, you should know that – we – that I…we’re family’ He choked, unable to go on, letting her go. Savannah straightened up and took a deep breath, her voice clear and strong.

‘Anton was so kind, he paid for the flat I was living in. But – I couldn’t go on like that, I had to find another way to live – so – so I did – this’ Drake gritted his teeth.

‘Did Anton make you do this?’ he asked grimly.

‘No Drake, no’ she said, gulping her tears back ‘He said he’d keep me, but – I couldn’t let him, I wanted to be independent. After all, it wasn’t him who made me – whose baby it was’ Tears fell again and she looked away from him, her voice falling to a whisper again ‘It was a little boy’

Drake stood, his hands balled into fists, wishing Bertrand was in front of him right now – or perhaps not, he didn’t think he could trust himself. He felt Bastien’s presence beside him, waiting for him to pull the shattered pieces of himself together.

‘Walker’ he said quietly, putting his hand onto his shoulder, and he felt grounded – like he did with Charlotte, with Sultan. He drew a shuddering breath.

‘Savvy, you don’t have to do this any more. Come back with us, Charlotte told me to tell you you’re welcome.’ Savannah looked at him, a smile starting to form on her lips.

‘What about Anton?’ she said ‘You can’t believe he did all the dreadful things they’re accusing him of’

@ao719 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @sleepwalkingelite @boneandfur @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicescommunity @darley1101 @drakewalkerrosenberg @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @goirishsunshine @gardeningourmet @livingthroughchoices @likethetailofacomet @mrs-nazario @mind-reader1 @ooo-barff-ooo @silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty @zaffrenotes @missevabean @mrsdrakewalkerblog @cora-nova @missameliep @tanelle83 @endlessly-searching-for-you @jlouise88 @drakenazario @tabithacarlisle @furiousherringoperatortoad @notoriouscs @classylady1234 @wickedgypsymoon @carabeth @choices-fangirl @indiana-jr @indiacater @noey718-blog @katedrakeohd @bobasheebaby @annekebbphotography @kennaxval @sirbeepsalot @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @aworldoffandoms @iplaydrake @drakesensworld @drakewalkerisreal @samcpossum @melodyofgraves

[stormecloudyy-blog]

The Weight iii

Put you in the past, Try to forget you 'cause it's over And every time you ask I pretend I'm okay

Matt hasn’t answered his phone when I called to say I was going to be home so he could come by if he wanted. There has just be radio silence since this morning. Shawn drove me home, and it was weird. I didn’t really speak during the journey, just stared out the window and then at my phone to see if Matt was going to shoot me a text or even just call. But nothing. So I ended up just thanking Shawn softly for the ride and walked into my apartment, wondering I had caused all of this chaos because I don’t know how to properly let go of Shawn. But I hate coming home to an empty house with so many emotions running rampant through my mind. The only way I knew how to quell my anxiety was to go for an evening walk, hoping the crisp night air will help clear my mind and help me gain some much needed perspective. 

“D’you want a ride?”

I pause for a moment when I hear that voice, wondering if he is stalking me. Shawn again. It is uncanny how he just knows when to show up. I know he is not following me, because I am the one who is walking through the neighborhood where his condo is located. I am the creepy one, if the label needs to be put on someone.

The window of his Jeep is rolled down and he is looking at me, hand leaning out the window and giving me a small wave. He narrows his eyes for a moment, assessing if I am going to just walk away from him. 

“I could just give you a ride,”Shawn goes on, tapping his hand against the car door rhythmically. “Better than being out late at night, when you never know what could happen.  Unless you wanted to walk and then I could just leave to whatever you were doing...”

“Sure, that is fine,” I say and walk over to the passenger side of the door, opening it up and climbing inside. I close the door softly and put on my seatbelt, staring straight ahead and not speaking because I really have no idea what the hell I am supposed to say to him.

“I will take you home in a bit. I just have to stop by my house to grab something I was going to drop off for a friend, so I will just be a few minutes. You can wait in the car or come inside with me,” he pauses, realizing he may have made a mistake in offering to let me come inside. “But I swear I will take you home right after, it is just really important.”

“Okay.” I say because there is not much else to say. Being around Shawn confuses me because I am the one who ended our relationship. I wanted to be friends, but it was hard. He was the one who said it was fine when Matt asked me out. “I don’t mind coming inside with you. I used to live there with you, if you recall.” He doesn’t say anything at that, just grips the steering wheel tighter so his knuckles turn white as we get closer to his condo. The silence in the car is almost suffocating, and I contemplate just saying never mind to this whole ordeal and walking home once more. 

“Well, um, here we are,” he says and puts the car in park, throwing his door open and slamming it behind him. He doesn’t even wait for me, just storms off in the direction of his condo.

“Shawn, wait up!” I call, rushing out of the jeep and chasing after him. He turns on his heel, eyebrows raised like he is waiting for me to say something. I catch up to him, feeling strange being back at the home we once shared. I don’t know how to explain...it is like being home, but the edges are slightly blurred. It doesn’t quite feel the same, but it stirs up those old memories like it was yesterday. I don’t dare mention I still have a key hidden deep in a drawer with an old tshirt of his I kept.

The condo feels the same. Still decorated in the way I had it when I was living there, trying do everything I could to make it feel like a place he would be happy to come home to after being on tour. The strangest part is seeing the extra room where I used to keep all of my books still the same, just barren shelves and a few remnants of tape on the wall where I took down my posters when I moved out. This place still feels like home.... like I could just fall down onto the couch and watch hours of Netflix the way I would when he was gone. But I stand by the doorway, not touching anything and just taking in how much it all stayed the same even though life has changed so much for the both of us. Shawn goes to the bedroom to retrieve a book, holding it up like a peace offering. He holds it out toward me, eyes and face guarded when I see it is the same  copy of Harry Potter he would read to me when we found out I was pregnant. Before... before it all fell apart.

I just take the book from his grasp, throwing it in my bag because my emotions swell too much to look at it. He doesn’t say anything, just goes to find what he came here for so we both can leave. It seems like he can’t find what he is looking for, making him grow more frustrated as he tosses things around, swearing and muttering about never leaving something where he should.

“What are you looking for?” I ask, biting my lip and looking around the house to see if I spot something strange. He stops throwing items haphazardly around and looks at me.

“A flash drive. It has some music I was working on, and I wanted to drop it off with Andrew..” he says, throwing his hands up like he is ready to end his search. “But it is not where I thought it was supposed to be.”

“Check next to the bed,” I tell him. This was the same place he would leave things when we were together. He would get mad he could not find it, and I would always find it in the same spot. Shawn just nods to himself, heading to the bedroom and making a happy sound when he finds what he is looking for. When he comes back to the main area, he is holding up the flash drive like a prize and looking at me like I am just the greatest thing in the world. He is looking at me the same exact way he did when we went to the doctor and hear the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. It is just too much for me to handle, so I turn away because I want to go home now. 

“I knew you would find it there. That is where you leave things all of the time. You should devise a better system for your belongings. But I am ready to leave so let’s just go because I wanna go home now?” I ask, trying to keep myself calm and sane while suppressing all of the emotions trying to surface. He doesn’t speak, just stares down at the flash drive in his hand like he remembered something else. 

“Shawn?” I inquire, waving my hand in front of his face to get his attention.

“Yeah, yeah.. of course,” He says, snapping back to reality. He shoves the flash drive into his pocket and jingles his keys in his hand, opening the front door for me so we can leave.

“And so you were over at Shawn’s?” Matt asks me, staring at me from his spot on the couch because I keep getting up and wandering around his house because I can’t even stay still for just one minute. My mind has been going crazy since I was at the condo. Because of the book and just everything else which has been happening lately.

“Yeah, I mean I was just walking home and he said he would give me a ride so I said okay, but I just don’t know what to think because he gave me this book he read to me when I was pregnant and...” My hand reaches up to fiddle with the ring on the chain around my neck, back and forth over and over. Matt doesn’t speak, especially once I mention about the meaning of the book. “I just don’t understand what I am supposed to do when this is all really fucking weird, and I don’t want to make it worse but...”

Matt just watches me quietly, picking up his glass of water and taking a sip. The one subject he has always danced around is my pregnancy because of the devastation it brings out in me. It was one of the main reasons I was afraid to get involved with him, but he said it didn’t matter to him because it was not about the past. He just wanted to be with me because he liked me and the current time. He just waits for me to stop pacing, getting up from the couch and wrapping his arms around my body in an embrace.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I am going to be fine once all of this bullshit stops,” I say, resting my head on his chest and letting his kiss the side of my head gently.

“You are going to be okay, I promise. You made it through one of the worst things in the world, and now you are doing great,” he comforts me, rubbing my back, just waiting for me to calm down. I know this isn’t going to stop for awhile, but I don’t want to keep straining the relationship I have now because I am dwelling too much on the past. I lean into his body, glad to be here with him for the time being.

“Yeah, I am okay... everything is just fine...” I say with false conviction and hope he doesn’t notice the cracking in my voice. I’m too focused on thinking about the closed door at the condo, still decorated with the same stars we put up there when we were doing the nursery.

Neither Shawn nor I have really moved on at all.

this is so bad. i am sorry. why i do i even write when it all turns to garbage. i should just stop writing for good. god. 

[goldenscript]

1, 3, 17, 46 ★~(◡‿◕✿)

thank you, my dearest ;-;

1. things that inspire you

I feel like I have a sporadic inspiration, because there are moments where I’ll randomly just think of a what-if scenario like thief!soonyoung or hacker!yoongi just because there’s this flash of an image that comes across my mind and it just explodes into an entire idea. I also equate my inspiration to music, photos, games, movies, books… I think photos especially because that visual really helps me create the imagine in my head and let my imagination run rampant.

3. name three favorite writers

This is so tough! The three that come to mind as of late are Haruki Murakami, Ken Liu, andddddddd Jane Austen. Oh, and because I had a strong love of the supernatural aka vampires aka fight me because eleven-year-old me thought they were awesome, Richelle Mead (I read the shit out of the Vampire Academy series alright) and L.J.Smith (Night World series, hands down, was fucking awesome – she’s the one who makes me feel like I’ll never be able to amount in any possible soulmate fic ‘cuz hers are top-tier) are honorable mentions. LOL, I haven’t read a lot of recent books but I’m always open to recommendations!

And if we’re going talking about fanfic writers then – @warmau (literally her headcanons are GOD TIER!), you aka @minghaseok (because your svt works are freaking amazing and I aspire to write as clean as you), & @jungnoir (I’m biased as hell but let me just say that the voice of her work is so hilarious – it’s so captivating that once I read the first few lines, I’m hooked).

17. favorite AU to write

Oooh, this is such a toughie! I have so many, but I think it really volleys between best friends to lovers and rivals/enemies to lovers, because the dynamics are so freakin’ fantastic. You can find a plethora of elements in both cases, whether it’s straight up angst or fluff or things of both genres. I’m also extremely partial to friends with benefits aus and fake dating aus, because I love angst and the complexities of human nature like there are moments where you know you shouldn’t do something but against your better judgement you do so anyway because feelings can be that powerful, it’s insane! Honestly, I love the inner emotional turmoil because that’s what I write best with.

46. share a scene of a story that you haven’t published yet

side note: I see u~ I’ll post a few sneak peeks because I’m feeling quite generous with my 70+ wips LOL

when the ice melts | hacker!yoongi

You break your trained gaze of the upside down bucket located between the desk and the couch in hopes of meeting a pair of eyes.

What greets you instead is the back of someone’s head peeking from the top of a black leather swivel chair. The hard tap on the keyboard breaking into the space of the song, a series of one’s and zero’s etched across the screens. You have to look elsewhere because even just trying to keep up with the rapidfire is disorienting.

This goes on for longer than a minute, something you didn’t mean to time but by the sixty-first Mississippi you were a little over the whole thing. Clearing your throat, you hoped the subtle call for attention would be enough.

He doesn’t so much as pause in a single keystroke until another song begins to play. That’s when he raises his hand to beckon you forth. His dull drawl cuts into the relatively still air: “You’re Jimin’s friend, right?”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. Although it is a devoid of the unbearable snark, you know this voice.

You barely manage to say, “Ye—“

“—Okay, c’mere so we can get this over with,” he says, craning his head only slightly from his position. You begin to walk forward. “What’s your na—Y/N?”

You halt only about a foot away, feeling a strange mixture of regret, a mild heart pang, and a small urge to walk over there and embrace him and scream at him for the hell that came in the two years without him. But you remain firmly planted where you are, watching as he turns in his spot with an undecipherable expression to the naked eye.

“What are you doing here?”

You raise a brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” 

loving you (has never been easier) | fake boyfriend!minghao

He’s staring.

You know nothing’s on your face. You definitely made sure to brush your hair too. Even your clothes are a little more than the usual leggings and stolen T-shirt from one of your mutual friends who can’t seem to stop leaving their articles of clothing at your place for reasons other than simply drunkenly tossing them aside and leaving you to 1) wash said shirt and 2) keep it for yourself as reparation for the cleaning and the torture of watching your friends strip themselves. But right as you find notice in a particular piece of lint to which you curse because goddammit this is your good shirt, the corners of his lips curl upward and his eyes soften, as if the scrutiny was only meant to screw around with you before the Big Question.

Minghao gives you a raised brow, partially probing for an answer to an unsaid question. He’s notorious for this, namely with you, sometimes guessing what you want before you even say so or simply hitting the mark to most ailments because he’s quite painfully observant. But you highly doubt this is anything within range of requests. You’d probably grovel right then and there if he somehow knew about your current predicament though for your own safety as well as his, you made no mention of this to anyone else because the rest of your friends are all blabbermouths and it’s already enough that they know you’re being set-up this Christmas by your great-aunt (bless her soul, really, but that’s the last time you’re ever answering your phone in the presence of Seungkwan or even Seungcheol).

“What’s up?” he says this carefully, one of his hands wrapped around the slightly steaming mug. The billows of fading steam comfort you, even more than the way his mahogany gaze, and that’s saying something.

“I need a favor,” you blurt out.

He huffs, “If you think I’m taking your shift during finals week, then you’re better off asking me to stick my head into the snow.”

“No—!” You shake your head, feeling the ask bubble up in your throat but still falling short to reach air nonetheless. “God, I’m not even scheduled, thankfully.”

“Well,” he says carefully. “What is it then?”

“Will you be my fake boyfriend?’’

cursed | vampire!jeno

With his hands up, he tries to talk, sounding a lot smaller than his usual grovel, “Y-Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“—Sorry?” you whisper harshly, wanting nothing more than to will those words away. It’s a weakness for you. To hear him say sorry in such a small and genuine way just makes you want to forgive him. “No, no. Don’t, Jeno.”

He bites his lip. Carefully, of course. The fake fangs he had on this morning have now molded into the real deal.

“Did Yeri give you the orange treat?”

He nods, looking guiltier.

You hate doing this. You really do. But you need to confirm your own theory, and cross your fingers that it isn’t anything like Joy or even Wendy’s snacks, because you can’t even imagine the aftereffects of what their can do to a mere mortal.

“Didn’t I tell you not to eat it?” When he nods, you ask, “Why did you?”

And okay, a huge part of you is still pretty pissed that he went ahead and ate your dessert despite you telling him not to.

“I-I know, and that’s why I’m sorry. Yeri said it was fine, so I did it without thinking!”

You exhale loudly, shooting him a brief glare before it softens once again, “Well, you need to make sure not to do anything stupid until after school. I won’t see you until then but you’re not to leave my side until that wears off, alright?”

He nods fervently, blurting out, “I’m really sorry, Y/N—!”

“—Get to class, love birds!” Your head turns to the hall monitor wandering the halls, and of fucking course, it’s Chenle.

fanfic asks! | inbox

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Resource Management, pt9

Word Count: 2789 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter  @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite

Fury must have known that meeting with Stark was going to make me emotional because he gave me a few minutes to regain my composure once I was alone before he joined me again. He handed me a tablet, and moved my monitor out of the centre of my desk so we could see one another. He didn’t touch Thor though, leaving the bobblehead right where Stark had placed him.

“Before the attack, I wanted to restructure HR. This has just made it more pressing. I’d like to downsize all the HR offices, and centralize most of the work here at HQ,” he began.

“What about new hires? We can’t centralize with just a skeleton staff,” I countered. He nodded.

“HR is a liability right now. The various offices hold 85% of the level 9 and higher staff. It’s the perfect target for an attack because once the office is disabled, all those locked down files are available. We have a number of options. My first recommendation is to limit the number of staff with high security access.”

“I actually forwarded a proposal to Jenkins recommending that shortly before she went on leave.” I logged into my personal network drive, and pulled the report, flicking it across to Fury’s tablet. He scanned through it quickly.

“I never saw this.”

“She killed it. She said that our security clearance was vital to our work. But, sir, it’s not. When you forwarded me casualty lists, it was by employee ID. There’s no reason why we can’t do all our work on ID numbers without ever knowing who we’re working on. Particularly Payroll, benefits, and insurance claims. No one needs to know who is accessing those items. The only time anyone needs access to actual personnel files is for disciplinary actions. And those are so limited, one employee could manage it,” I explained. “I actually developed a detailed proposal that would allow all HR and Payroll employees to be dropped to a level 4 clearance level.”

“Is that part of this?” He gestured to the file he had open on his tablet. I nodded. He scrolled back to the top and read through it thoroughly. While he was reading, I took our coffee mugs and refilled them. I stopped and greeted the temporary receptionist, and introduced myself to the security guard. As I was at the front of the office, Erin hurried in. She saw me, dropped her purse on the floor and pulled me into a hug.

“Thank god you’re okay,” she breathed. “I was told you were, but I couldn’t get you on your phone.”

“I haven’t been home,” I explained. “Let me show you to your new office.”

I led her back to the etched glass walls that read ‘Deputy Director, Human Resources’ and looked at her. She ran her fingers across her name.

“Is this a joke?” She asked.

“Check out the office beside you,” I tilted my head toward my office door. Her jaw dropped.

“The fuck?”

“We’ve both been promoted. Jenkins is not coming back. Our division took the highest casualties, so Fury and I have just started a restructuring meeting. The rest of the remaining staff will be in shortly. If you could get everyone settled, and finish processing any outstanding injury claims, as soon as we’ve settled any of the changes, I’ll read you in,” I explained. “I think I got most of the files completed, but as we get condition updates on survivors there are changes that will need to be made. The info should be on our shared drive.”

“Wow.” She stared at me. “Yeah, I’ll get started. I’ll let you know if I need anything, Madam Director.” She winked and headed into her office.

I returned to my desk and handed Fury his coffee. He nodded his thanks and finished reading the proposal I’d developed.

“This is a very well developed proposal, and very much along the lines of what I had been considering. It needs some additional work, in light of the attack, but you’ve saved us at least a week of brainstorming with this,” Fury commended me. I smiled.

“Thank you.”

“I would argue that you and the deputy direction should maintain your security clearance.” He pointed to an area in the implementation section of my proposal.

“With all due respect sir, our security clearance comes with a target on our backs. I would prefer to see a field agent brought in and trained for the position I recommended. I’m not sure you are aware, but despite resenting the training you had us all head off to, I didn’t disagree with your assessment that all employees should have basic field competencies. I think we’re living in a world of eventualities and risks, and SHIELD employees should be able and ready to actively protect themselves. But for this particular position, I’d like to see someone trained for operations in the job,” I argued.

“I agree completely. But I think that the director and deputy director should be field operatives,” he stated simply. I was confused, and likely looked like I’d been sucking a lemon, trying to puzzle out what he meant.

“Then why did you promote us?” I asked. “If you’re just going to replace us with field operatives?”

“I have no intention of replacing you,” he spoke slowly and clearly, as though I was missing something. Because I was missing something.

“What?” I shrieked. “I can barely shoot my sidearm, Director Fury. I can’t run without wanting to collapse. I’ve never taken any of the real classes offered at the academy, like How to be a Badass Spy 101 or Strategy or Recognizing a Bad Guy As Soon As You See Him, or anything.”

“You don’t need those classes, Ellis. You analyzed the data about the attack in less than eight hours, and came to a strongly supported conclusion based on the scant information at your disposal. Agent May has said you have a strong instinct regarding covert operations, based on your performance at the academy and how you fled from the Triskelion after the attack. These are things we look for in recruits and we hone those skills in the academy and in the field. All agents go through quarterly assessments for basic competencies, but you’ve already passed those. You passed them last week at the academy,” he explained. “Even on the range, you passed basic competencies. No one is asking you to train to be Agent May, or Agent Romanoff.”

“But –“ I started.

“This department needs someone running it who is competent. You’ve proven yourself as the acting director. I have no doubts about your abilities in other areas.” His tone was final.

“Erin is going to lose her mind over this,” I warned him.

“I am well aware of McKay’s opinion about field training. Let me deal with it.” His stare was unsettling. I wasn’t sure if it was just the intensity of it, or the fact that the eye patch made him really foreboding, but I certainly had no plans to argue with him.

We hashed through the remaining six HR employees’ personnel files, looking at strengths and weaknesses, and what areas they should take over for the restructuring. Lunch arrived just as everyone was trickling into the office, and Fury had it set out in the conference room and invited everyone in to serve themselves and sit. He ran through the situation so far, and then explained that I was the new director, and Erin was the new deputy. No one seemed surprised. But then he dropped the bomb on them.

“Effective immediately, your security clearance is being revoked down to level three. Director Ellis and Deputy Director McKay will continue to carry advanced security clearance, but they will also be in and out of the office a great deal over the coming months as they complete their field competencies,” he explained. The room had been quiet, but the staff even stopped chewing at this revelation.

“I’m sorry, Director Fury, are you suggesting that Annie and Erin are going to take operations training?” Elaine asked. She was older, and had been talking about taking early retirement for a few years. I wondered if the restructuring would drive her to making that decision sooner than she’d planned.

“That is what I am saying. We still have a great deal to plan an execute, but this is the start of some big changes for this department,” Fury confirmed.

“I don’t understand how we are to be expected to effectively work if we no longer have security clearances,” Elaine pressed.

“We are moving to a blind system. All employees have a permanent SHIELD identification number, and you will work entirely with those numbers from now on. For situations requiring knowledge of the actual personnel, the case will be forwarded to Ellis or McKay, and they will manage it.” Fury highlighted an example of a personnel file on the wall monitor to show how they would appear from now on.

“Surely this will cause a backlog of work for them. Particularly now. There will be a huge influx of new hires to replace those employees who were lost, god bless them,” Elaine argued.

“We will not be increasing the staffing complement of HR or Payroll for the foreseeable future. In fact, we are planning further downsizing in both departments as we establish new protocols.” I could tell Fury was getting frustrated, but I thought the questions were valid.

“This department has eight staff left! Who are you planning on cutting?” Gordon asked. Gordon was our database specialist. He’d been one of seven.

“There will be no further cuts from this location. Other locations will be downsized or streamlined into this location. New hires can be done by any member of this team, dependent on the security clearance of the hire. Only level four and higher will need to be administered by Ellis or McKay.” Fury sat back and started his sandwich, effectively shutting down questioning for the moment. The silence in the room was overwhelming. I shot Erin a worried look and she sighed into her coffee cup.

“Director Fury, I understand that this training program you wanted us all to complete is still on the table. How is that going to be administered now?” She asked.

“Agent Jackson will be meeting with you individually to determine what your training needs are, and will be tailoring individual education plans to meet your needs. You and Ellis, in particular, will be assigned Supervising Officers to work with you to ensure you meet competencies as soon as possible.”

“Are there any other department heads who will be undergoing similar training and Annie and I?” Erin pressed.

“The heads of every department will be expected to make and maintain operations competencies.” Fury was unwilling to elaborate further. We continued eating in silence until Fury rose and excused us back to my office to continue working on the restructuring. The afternoon flew by. At four, Stark walked back into the office, a guy with a dolly of tall, thin boxes in tow. I walked out to the lobby to greet him.

“Tony, what are you doing?” I asked, interrupting him as he pointed at a wall.

“I promised you art this morning, Annie. I hit a wall on the Mark 43, and decided this would be more fun.”

“Well, then. Don’t let me get in your way.” I rolled my eyes and walked back to my office. I kept an eye on him as he took over the space and started bossing people around so that his guy could hang art. He pushed into my office and nodded at Fury.

“Okay, hang that last one behind her desk. Make yourself scarce for a few minutes, princess,” Stark turned to us and waved his hands. My mouth dropped open in protest. “You too, Annie. I want this to be a surprise.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing, and grabbed Fury’s coffee cup.

“Coffee, sir?” I asked. Fury scratched his forehead and rose to head out of my office. I refilled his coffee cup and handed it to him. I walked into Erin’s office to see what she’d had hung up in her office. It was a Picasso. I stepped around her desk and got close to it.

“Jesus Christ, Erin, is that real?” I breathed.

“He says yes,” she replied. “It’s my favourite painting. How did he know?”

“Tony Stark has depths none of us realized, I think.” I shook my head. I heard him call my name from my office, and followed it back. He met me outside the door, covered my eyes, steered me into the room, and pointed me at my wall.

“Okay, are you ready?” He asked. There was a suspicious tone to his voice, and I could tell there was a prank at the heart of his generosity. He dropped his hands. I opened my eyes slowly and sighed.

“Seriously, Tony?” I laughed. “Thank god it’s behind me, so I never have to look at it.” It was a huge art-deco style Iron Man poster.

“I told you there was a profound lack of me in your scrapbook,” he teased.

“So Erin got a Picasso. And I got an Iron Man poster?” I snorted. He pointed at the side wall of my office. I had been so confounded by the Iron Man poster that I hadn’t seen the smaller painting that had been mounted there. I didn’t even realize I was moving, I walked over to it so quickly.

“That’s not possibly the real one,” I gasped, trying to stop myself from touching the painting, in case Tony Stark truly was stupid enough to put Starry Night in my office.

“It is not the real one. But I suspected you would be a Van Gogh fan,” he shrugged.

“I am.”

“Then turn around,” he said. I spun to face the other wall. There were sunflowers on it. Van Gogh must have painted a dozen sunflower paintings in his life. I made my way to it slowly and felt myself get lightheaded.

“No. Fucking. Way. This one is real, isn’t it?” I just stared.

“That one is,” he confirmed. I reached back for my chair and pulled it under me, sitting down heavily.

“Why?”

“Because sometimes life sucks. And sometimes you need to be reminded that there’s beauty all around us. And because Pepper keeps buying all this goddamn art and I have no fucking clue what to do with it. So because you amuse me, and very little these days makes me happy, I’m sharing my collection,” he shrugged.

“What’s the catch?” I demanded. He laughed.

“No catch, sunshine. Just don’t let this place get blown up, okay?” He smirked.

“Unfortunately, Tony, I have no control over that. But if I does blow, I’ll try to grab those sunflowers on the way out,” I promised. “I mean, if you aren’t already here to save me.”

“Should I embed a GPS tracker in your arm?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Keep you safe all the time? JARVIS could keep an eye on you for me. Let me know when you need saving.”

“Now you’re getting creepy.” I rose and started walking toward the door. “It’s been lovely, but the business day is almost over, and I have some loose ends to tie up with Director Fury.”

Stark followed me to the front of the office.

“You and Pepper would get along well. You and your boyfriend should come by for dinner sometime,” he shook my hand. I smiled blandly.

“Perhaps.” I obviously couldn’t accept the offer, but I appreciated the clarity of it. He was no longer hitting on me, but treating me with the respect I’d suspected he’d always had for women.

“You don’t think your boyfriend would like me, do you? I can behave. I can tone myself down.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried not to laugh.

“Tony Stark, it is not in your nature to tone down. And I’m sure my boyfriend would eventually develop a grudging respect for you. Maybe. But I don’t think now is the time to test that. Everything is still very raw here, and he’s very busy with the aftermath of the attack,” I explained.

“Oh, dating within the ranks. Is that even allowed?” Stark teased.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark.” I held the door open for him, and ushered him out. He was still talking about something as I pulled the door shut again and walked away.

“Did she just dismiss me?” I heard him ask the painting-hanging guy. I shook my head and headed back to my office.

[myaekingheart]

94. A Place That We Can Share

               Sekkachi grimaced as she tightened her ponytail and looked around the room. They had been at this for hours and yet somehow Rei’s apartment looked even worse than before. “Hey, here’s a concept: did you ever think about, I don’t know, getting rid of some of your shit?” she asked.

               Rei’s head popped up from behind a pile of boxes, packing peanuts stuck to her hair. “You think I should get rid of my stuff?” she asked.

               Sekkachi shoved some clutter to the wayside. “There’s no way you need all of this. Do you really want to clog up your new place with a bunch of stuff you don’t even use? And what about Kakashi’s stuff?”

               “Kakashi doesn’t have any stuff” Rei blinked. “And for your information, I use all of this!” Toshio wiggled his way out from under the bed, a thin layer of dust on his fur, and barked in agreement. Rei reached over and began petting his coat clean, a faint dirt cloud huffing up around them.  

               With furrowed brows, Sekkachi spluttered into the crook of her elbow. “I hate to be cliché, but now would be the time to purge. You know, spring cleaning and all that good shit?” she said. Then, cringing, she swiped the dust off of Rei’s desktop with her index finger and added, “Or at the very least actually clean. My god, Rei, how can you even live like this?”

               “Oh, as if your place is totally spotless” Rei rolled her eyes. “I’ve been busy, okay? I have more important things to do than deep clean.”

               “Do you have any idea how much elbow grease it’s going to take to get this place in even a decent condition?” Sekkachi asked. “You’re not paying me enough for this.”

               Rei frowned. “If you really cared about me, I wouldn’t need to pay you at all” she replied. Because of course that was the only way Sekkachi would ever agree to help. She needed to get something out of it, preferably monetary. It took all of fifteen minutes for Rei to convince her to lend a hand and even then, Sekkachi was still debating her choice the whole way to the apartment.

               Sekkachi merely scoffed and began organizing Rei’s books in a large cardboard box. “If you really cared about me, you would be willing to give me the money” she reasoned. “It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

               “How do you know?” Rei asked, cocking a brow. The look of comic disbelief that crossed Sekkachi’s face served as a precursor to the type of response she was about to receive.

               “I’m sorry, have you seen your new apartment?” she asked sarcastically. “No one in my financial standing could afford a place like that. The location is perfect, the view is unparalleled, and it’s practically brand fucking new. You’re literally moving into the hokage’s damn lap.”

               Rei pursed her lips. First and foremost, that was a mental image she certainly had never wanted to think about. And second, as great a place as this was, thinking about moving was stirring up at a lot of strange new feelings within Rei’s chest. She had spent the past ten years in this apartment, cramped as it was. There was something so bittersweet about leaving it. And not only that, but as great as the new place was, the thought of the unknown scared her. Sure, she had spent the night with Kakashi multiple times but how different would it be to actually live with him? What kinds of quirky things had he hid from her that would now be brought to the fore? When you’re in separate homes, having guests is an occasion. You always put your best face on. But when you’re living together, spending all your time together, the mask truly comes off. Who was Kakashi in the comfort of his own home? Truly unhindered by social decorum? How well did she really know him? And, by extension, how well did he really know her?

               Sekkachi could see the crisis dulling Rei’s eyes the longer she thought about it. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she asked smugly, “What? Getting cold feet?”

               “What? No! Shut up!” Rei abruptly shouted. Her face was turning red and she could feel her heart rate quicken. “I just…I don’t know, moving is a big deal. You know, they say moving is actually one of the most traumatic things you can go through.”

               Sekkachi stared at her blankly. “Yes, because as part of the ANBU fucking black ops, the most traumatic thing you’ve ever done is switch apartments. Alright, yeah, that makes perfect sense.” Rei rolled her eyes and began dumping her desk drawers into a cardboard box. A wide assortment of random knickknacks poured out: chewed erasers, a spare menstrual pad, a half-empty container of breath mints, a crumpled up pamphlet for Konoha Matsuri from seven years ago. Sekkachi watched, unamused. “So what’s the problem, then? And I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuses.”

               Rei slammed the bottom of the drawer with her fist as if there was anything else to dump out of it. “I just…I don’t know, it’s complicated! All of this just feels so weird. On the one hand I feel like me and Kakashi are running out of time to do all of this shit but at the same time, things are moving so fast and I don’t know if I’m ready for everything that’s about to happen. I keep feeling like we’re on the verge of something, you know? It’s like that feeling when you’re watching a scary movie and you know the killer is right around the corner but the characters don’t, and you’re just waiting for them to find out and get slaughtered.” Here, she made some very graphic homicidal hand gestures to further illustrate her point. The accompanying contorted facial expressions were, in retrospect, perhaps too much. Sekkachi blinked despondently. After a beat of silence, Rei sighed and collapsed back on the bed. “I don’t know, I feel fucking psychotic. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’m trying so hard not to freak out about it because I really want this to be a good thing, but I just cannot shake the thought that something big is about to happen. I can feel it.” Toshio leapt up to lay down beside her, resting his head on her stomach with a sympathetic whimper. She scratched the back of his neck in response.

               Scoffing, Sekkachi launched a packing peanut at Rei’s head and replied “Yeah, he’s going to stop trying, that’s what’s going to happen.”

               “What?” Rei asked, propping herself up on her elbows. She cocked a brow in confusion.

               Sekkachi nodded knowingly and explained, “You’ll move in together and suddenly he’s farting out in the open and not shaving anymore. He won’t care. He’s already won you. He won’t want to try and impress you anymore. It’s what always happens.”

               Rather than feel bothered or offended, Rei was merely amused. It was a very specific assessment. She wondered where Sekkachi had gathered her information from. “You seem to know a lot about living with men for someone of your sexual preference” Rei jested. Toshio rolled onto his back and began to pant, as if he was laughing at her. His spotted tongue lopped out of the side of his mouth.

               A small smirk tugged at Sekkachi’s lips. “There’s a reason I only date women to begin with” she replied. Shaking her head, Rei smiled and launched a packing peanut back.

               It was nearing dusk by the time they finished packing and cleaning, arriving to the new apartment sweaty and sore. Kakashi was already there, crouched before his boxes in the middle of the living room floor. At first, it seemed as though he did not hear them come in. Understandably, this struck Rei as odd—Kakashi was always fairly alert. She set one of her boxes down on the kitchen counter and studied him briefly. It looked as if he was inspecting something, and then came a flash of light as the sunlight reflected off this mysterious piece. Rei startled, squeezing her blinded eyes shut tight until they recovered from the glare. Sekkachi glanced at her suspiciously, then dropped a large box to the floor with a loud thud. Finally snapped from his daze, Kakashi whipped around and shoved whatever he was holding into his back pouch. An uncertain smile touched his masked face.

               “Did we interrupt something?” Sekkachi chuckled. She cocked a brow and titled her head as if to try and peek at what he was hiding.

               “No, not at all!” Kakashi insisted. “I was just unpacking some things. How did everything go at the apartment?” Now he had turned his gaze to Rei, whose face was awash with paranoia. In the back of her mind, all she could think about was what Sekkachi had said earlier. Her mind flickered with visions of Kakashi unhinged: stubble on his unmasked face and letting his bodily functions run rampant. His recent secrecy did not help his case—she didn’t even want to imagine what he might have been doing. A shiver ran down her spine as she shoved the thoughts out of her head.

               “Things went fine” Rei replied curtly. She dropped her eyes to the counter. Kakashi caught on to her strange behavior immediately, suspecting that things did not in fact go fine at all. He glanced to Sekkachi for further explanation.

               “Well it wouldn’t have taken us so long if someone didn’t live in a fucking dumpster” Sekkachi replied. Toshio barked in agreement as he pushed another box into the room with his snout. Sekkachi scratched behind his ear in affirmation as she skirted her way through the clutter, approaching Kakashi to clap him on the shoulder. “You’re going to have a hell of a time cleaning up after this one” she jested before slipping onto the balcony for a smoke. Toshio picked his head up the minute the door slid open, rushing to join her outside. And then suddenly, Rei and Kakashi were completely alone.

               Rei pursed her lips as she ripped open the nearest box on the counter. She rummaged through the contents inside—anything to keep herself distracted from those nagging, overbearing thoughts. Kakashi watched for a moment, studying her stiff posture and the way she chewed on her lower lip. Something was so clearly off but he wasn’t fully sure what. He filed through his memories of the past few days trying to find fault in himself but came up empty. After a few moments passed, he approached and rested a hand on the small of her back. “I’m glad things went well today” he said softly. He looked around their new home and smiled. “I think we’re going to be really happy here.”

               “Mmhmm” Rei hummed, distracted. Kakashi rubbed her back gently and waited to see if she would give him any other response. When she did not, his anxiety only hiked up higher.

               “Is everything okay?” he asked.

               Rei blinked and looked up at him, dazed and confused. “What?” she asked. After a moment, the question actually registered. “Oh, yeah! I’m fine, don’t worry about me! Just tired” she laughed nervously. “It’s, uh, it’s been a long day.” She brushed her bangs back out of her face and looked away from him, turning her attention back to the box.

               Kakashi’s suspicion mounted but he did not want to press her further. Not yet, anyway. In the back of his mind, he feared he already had his answer. He had been too careless, he hadn’t exercised enough control, and now Rei was potentially aware of his plan. The ring in his back pouch felt like lead. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more of a help with packing” he quietly replied.

               Rei shook her head. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. Really” she assured. “Sekkachi was great help. Even if she made me pay her.”

               Kakashi glanced to the balcony to catch Sekkachi leaning casually against the railing, watching the passerby in the streets below. A stream of smoke billowed up from between her lips as she flicked away the growing ash. She was always so smug, sometimes Kakashi wondered if there was even the slightest ounce of ingenuity in her. Her free hand constantly rested atop Toshio’s head, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he soaked up the evening sunlight.

               Rei opened a cabinet and began putting away some of her dishware. “So what, uh…what were you looking at earlier? When we first got here…” she asked. “You seemed pretty distracted.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Despite her forced laugh, inside she was spiralling.

               Kakashi’s heart leapt into his throat at the inquiry. Either she knew and was playing games with him, or his carelessness had piqued her curiosity. Regardless, he was fucked. “Oh, it was nothing, really” he lied with an unsuspecting grin. “I was just getting a little sentimental is all.” At least that part of it was true. He was getting sentimental. And that exact sentimentalism was what was going to kill him if he kept this up. He rested a hand on his pouch and tried to take comfort in that little box nestled inside. He needed to remind himself that everything was falling into place. It was only a matter of time before the wait would finally end. But now was not the time for that. He couldn’t afford to get distracted now. Kakashi fed her a reassuring smile, but then his gaze shifted to the clock mounted on the wall behind her. It was quarter after five. “Dammit, I’m late” he muttered.

               “W-wait, what?” Rei asked, overcome with sudden panic. “Late for what?”

               Kakashi began quickly gathering his supplies off the counter, strapping his kunai holster to his thigh and tying his headband around his forehead. “Lady Tsunade said she needed me for something but I was preoccupied with packing and completely forgot” he explained. He leaned over and planted a quick kiss on the tip of Rei’s nose before rushing out the door. “I won’t be long, I promise” he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

               It all happened so quickly, it took a moment for Rei’s brain to catch up. The sliding glass door sighed open and Sekkachi reentered, thoroughly confused. “What was that about?” she asked. The smell of cigarette smoke followed her inside.

               Frowning, Rei shuffled nearer and spritzed Sekkachi with air freshener. “I don’t know, something about Lady Tsunade needing him for something, I guess” she explained. Sekkachi spluttered and swatted at the air to combat the attack of fragrant mist.

               “You guess?” Sekkachi asked. The uncertainty in Rei’s voice only highlighted her own suspicion.

               Rei skirted around the room and began reorganizing all of their boxes, forming a cardboard labyrinth in an attempt to create some semblance of direction amid the chaos. “I’m sure everything’s fine” she dismissed, though it sounded more like a reassurance to herself than anything else. “Kakashi’s a busy guy! He probably just has a lot on his mind, you know? Moving takes a lot out of you, and work is stressful, and—”

               “You can make excuses all day but it isn’t going to change the fact that your boyfriend is acting fucking bizarre” Sekkachi interrupted. She began investigating his boxes, the amount truly laughable compared to Rei’s arsenal. She flicked the flap of one open and peered inside but found nothing but a collection of neatly stacked books. “You know, maybe you were onto something earlier.”

               “What do you mean?” Rei asked, though deep down she didn’t think she really wanted to know. Whatever Sekkachi had to say would probably only make her feel worse. It usually did.

               “With all of that paranoia shit” Sekkachi replied. “Maybe you weren’t totally out of your mind after all.” She picked up the topmost book—surprisingly not from the Makeout series—and began idly flipping through. The title read Making Love: Sex and Healing.

               “Sekkachi, just stop” Rei insisted. She tried to sound confident and unaffected but the desperation in her tone was obvious.

               Sekkachi landed on the opening of a chapter about unfaithful partners and grimaced. She slammed the book shut and stared Rei in the eyes. “Listen, I really didn’t want to humor your overreactions earlier but now I’m the one who’s nervous. You cannot sit here and honestly tell me that Kakashi hasn’t been acting weird. He didn’t even hear us come in! And when he finally realized we were there, it was like we had walked in on something. I swear, he’s gotta be hiding something and I don’t trust it.”

               “You don’t trust anyone” Rei corrected. The longer they spoke about this, the deeper she could feel her sanity plummeting. Her hands were beginning to tingle and her head felt airy. She rummaged through another cardboard box for that pack of senbei crackers. Toshio lumbered forward and stuck his nose deep inside the box in an attempt to help sniff them out. “I’m sure it’s fine” Rei replied. Her voice was soft and dragging like a meditation tape meant to cure insomnia. “You’re just overthinking things, but everything is fine. There’s nothing going on. And besides, what could Kakashi possibly be hiding, anyway?”

               Sucking her teeth, Sekkachi contemplated whether she really wanted to say it. She knew Rei would be pissed at her if she did, but at the same time she didn’t want to risk her safety. “Now I’m not saying he is, but the first thing that my mind goes to is that he’s cheating” she replied.

               Having found the senbei crackers, Rei shoved a handful into her mouth with no regard for the consequent crumbs on the floor. She would sweep them up later. Now was not the time to worry about such trivial things (and it was then that Sekkachi truly understood how, exactly, Rei’s apartment had become so messy). “Kakashi is not cheating” Rei insisted through a stuffed mouth. “He would never”

               Realistically, Sekkachi knew that she did not know Kakashi nearly as intimately as Rei did. She wasn’t even going to pretend that she did. With that in mind, she wanted to give Rei the benefit of the doubt but really, this was all just too weird.

               As she returned home that evening, Sekkachi’s instincts volleyed back and forth on the matter. She wasn’t obligated to be a part of this and really, why waste the energy? She only had so many spoons to spend per day. If Rei wanted to fuck up her own life, then that was her business. She chanted that to herself as she unlocked the door and flopped back on the bed, but deep down there was still that nagging little nugget of concern in the pit of her chest. Dammit. This was truly her fatal plight: caring far too much about things that didn’t involve her. No matter what she did, she could not shake the fear that something was truly, fatally amiss.

[overdrivels]

Could I request the soulmate AU! where all your scars appear on your soulmates body and vice versa with soldier 76? He has some big ass scars

….oh my god, I thought my fucking heart stopped when I read this. That hurts. This reminds me of another fic that I read at some point on AO3 and I can’t seem to remember the name of it. 

This is going onto the angst train because while I love soulmate!AUs, they’re always going to be a point of angst for me. Sorry, I’m driving this train without a license, and you’re going for a ride.

Scarred for Life (Drabble)

Many people found their scars to be a blessing–a sign that their soulmate existed and that they’re not alone in this world, that there’s someone special out there who is destined to be there for them forever and share their pain. So, it’s easy to understand why people are so desperate to find their fated other. Some never do; it’s a fact of life.

To increase those chances, sites where people posted their scars are common–rampant, almost, everyone hoping to find their match. There’s even an international database that tries to connect you to people by using their interactive application–you select the body parts your scars are on and describe them, and then you’ll be matched with your most likely candidates. It is fairly successful (barring the fact that not all people used this database).

Scarification, in particular, is a common (but morally dubious) trend, people paying upward of thousands of dollars to create something unique on themselves and  soulmate (once a point idle daydreams, but now you regard with disgust)–you didn’t indulge in the practice, didn’t have to, not with the way your soulmate so recklessly decorated their body with various injuries.

In the past, you, too, had once been fascinated by this ever since that first scar on your knee that you knew was not your’s. But when the scars became more and more frequent and in more conspicuous locations, your idealization turned into sour irritation. 

‘You’re so lucky!’

‘At least you know your soulmate’s out there!’

‘Your soulmate must be so hardcore!’

You hated those sorts of words. They wouldn’t be saying it if they saw how systematically these scars took over your body: across your arms, your back, your chest, your face–you took to concealing them with make-up. No one could tell they existed. 

Worst of all were the ones that circled the entirety of your legs, an uneven and jagged ring around the top of your knees–you have asked doctors about them and they, in their all their professional wisdom, could only give you and your soulmate their sincerest condolences. 

You didn’t really have an appetite for the longest time after that, almost certain your soulmate was dead in some terrible accident. It wasn’t until you finally met him that you realized that he was, indeed, very much alive. 

Although, you’ve been long acquainted with the man, you just didn’t know it. 

Soldier: 76 wakes with a pounding headache and a sour taste in his mouth. Not unusual, but unexpected given that he doesn’t remember having been drunk in the past how many hours. (He doesn’t very much like drinking any more anyway. He metabolizes the alcohol too quickly for it to do anything other than dehydrate him.) 

How many hours indeed?

“Oh,” you breathe from across the tiny space, wide-eyed and looking like you’ve seen a ghost. The yellow of the fading biotic canister dances off your face, highlighting the shadows beneath your eyes, and makes you seem sicklier than you probably are.

Snapping back to the reality at hand, you repeat, “Oh!”

And then you’re in his space, skittish, appraising hands running restlessly over his face, his chest, arms. He hates your fussing, but the pain debilitates him. He hisses whenever you press against something painful, and then you’re babbling apologies and inquiries that sound like just plain gibberish to him.

“Stop that.” 

Your hands stop their roaming, but you smooth one over his forehead, thumb stroking the skin. It’s significantly cooler, clammy, even, but he leans up into it nonetheless. It keeps the throbbing at bay, if only a little bit.

“What happened?”

There’s a pregnant pause that makes his ears ring–he wonders if it’s Lucio’s favorite ailment–before you answer with a question of your own.

“What do you remember?”

He doesn’t want to think. “Not much.” A half-lie. He remembers the ambush, he remembers going off alone contrary to the orders from the lumbering scientist in his ear, he remembers the cave-in.

But he doesn’t know why you’re here. You should’ve been in the ship, securing the payload. So how is he with you right now in a space that is nothing resembling a carrier?

“When you went in after Talon, I followed because I had the most maneuverability and was available at the time,” you explain. “Winston didn’t want to leave you alone.” 

Soldier quietly curses the primate. It figures he’d be sentimental enough not to let him do anything alone. Especially not when he suspects his identity. 

His face screws up in pain–it is too much work to pretend that this doesn’t bother him. But your soothing motions help. He just wishes you’d stop looking at him like that. Pitying, like the way someone would look at an injured animal.

He closes his eyes hard.

But the image wouldn’t leave him mind, and he has to bite back a frustrated groan. He’s not supposed to be coddled by you. Or anyone for that matter. He’s too old, but not old enough to be considered senile or helpless. Far from it.

He coughs, and the pounding in his head gains vigor that the rest of his body is so devoid of. 

It takes a little long for him to register–he must’ve suffered a concussion or something–but you touched his face. His bare face. 

His mask, where is it? He shoots straight up with a harsh gasp, and snatches your wrist tight, partially because he’s not in the mood to indulge your roaming touches and because the pain forces him to use you to steady himself. 

“My mask.” 

“Ow.”

You wince and grit your teeth when his grip tightens. Soldier doesn’t care, not when you’ve seen something that he’ll have a hell of a time explaining to everyone. Yes, he’s entirely aware that the scars make his face a mess, but not any less recognizable to anyone born in the past thirty or so years. You don’t meet his gaze, shaking your head slowly, nodding at the heap of gnarled metal that barely resembles his protective cover at his feet.

“The mask was broken, 76. Had to get it off, it was crushing you–you couldn’t breathe.” 

That explains the pain in his face. 

“Agent.” His tone is harsh, low, the urgency clear--threatening. “You cannot tell anyone what you saw. You cannot tell anyone who I am.”

“No, 76, I–” 

The fact that you don’t call him ‘Jack’ isn’t lost on him. But he knows you recognize him.

“What?” It’s sharper than he intends, but he can’t take it back, not when you look frustrated enough to tear him a new one. You snatch your hands back, and he lets you, a small tinge of guilt thrumming through him. Undeniably, he overreacted as evident by the way you wring your hands. 

You’re looking left and right, occasionally flitting to his face before going back to looking around, searching for answers in the rubble surrounding you both. He knows you find none when you give a throaty cry of irritation, rubbing furiously at your face.

He watches you with heavy eyes. The frustration you must feel is understandable. A once-legendary hero suddenly appearing before you, living in squalor and the darkened life of a worthless vigilante. It’s a lot of information to take in, after all. He drops his gaze for a moment, sighing. Exhaustion and pain drags at him, willing to pull him under. 

“76...look at me.” 

He blinks, clearing his vision of the blurriness that occupied it. The sleeves of your clothes that you hold you in front of you are smeared in the color of your skin. He travels up those arms, confused, before he sees your face. 

Your head is raised sharply, resolute in your actions when you meet his eyes. 

The world stills.

He can’t breathe.

The pain and dizziness tosses his insides around, determined to stem his brain function and distract him from the truth before his eyes. 

The scars on your face look back at him, puckered and in stark contrast to the rest of your skin, rubbed raw. 

They’re the exact ones he sees when he passes a mirror with his mask off. The ones who lamented because he knows that if his soulmate existed, they’d be scarred for life, living in anxiety and fear. The ones he hides because he never wanted to meet you.

“…you’re…”

“Yes.” Your voice trembles, wet and borderline emotional. “Yes. I thought you were dead this whole time.” 

He’s at a loss for words. The hard ground beneath him wobbles like it’s going to give out underneath him. It must be the concussion. Your hands immediately on his shoulders keep him steady. He wants to throw up, and slaps your hands away. 

No, he can’t deal with this. Doesn’t deserve this. He has nothing to offer. He knows it’s the lifelong wish of every person--himself, included at one point--to meet their fated other half. A sign that they are not alone in the world, that their struggles do not have to be shouldered alone. 

But some things are better left alone. Like himself. You should not involve yourself with his all-consuming quest for answers. It’s not right. 

Undeterred, you turn his face toward you, forcing him to look at the scars that he indirectly inflicted upon you. You look exhausted, hopeful even, and Soldier’s chest constricts painfully. 

“I can’t--”

“76.” You cut him off firmly, but softly, as though already aware of what he wants to say. “Just go to sleep, we can talk about this later.” 

When he doesn’t want to sleep, but the exhaustion catches up quickly, yanking his eyelids close. He grumbles as you help him lay down again, displeased with the turn of events, especially with the ginger way you handle him. It might not be because he’s old or injured, but maybe there’s another reason now. 

When he wakes up, he knows he’ll have a soulmate to talk to, and potentially a lot of explaining to do. But knowing you, you probably wouldn’t let him do it alone.

[propertyofjoker]

chatzy ; dick & joker -- bye bye birdy

Nightwing: To say that Dick was distracted was an understatement at best. With both Jason and Patty now in the hospital, the urge to find the reasoning behind such a predicament was vital. So, he resorted to something he hadn’t done in over five years. He put his suit back on.

After listening to a stolen police scanner for most of the day, his attention was caught and his anger was spurred on. He grabbed his mask and his weapons and headed out to the location that the scanner had indicated; fully intent on either settling a score or saving the hospital from one more occupant.

Joker: While petty crime ran rampant, it wasn’t going to be enough to lure out the Batman. Moreover, it was a precious waste of resources. It was time to make more a statement! Not a big one - no, that he would save for later, at the height of the game.

Bomb threats were called in all the time, but even the Star City PD knew it was more than a threat whenever Joker’s name was attached to it. The courthouse was evacuated immediately, all except for a judge who had been kidnapped the day before. Joker and his henchmen infiltrated the building with Judge Turpin in tow, her feet and wrists bound.

Nighwing: While the front of the building was mobbed with police and other authorities trying to come up with a strategy to get inside without the Joker blowing anything up, Dick had made his way to the back and climbed a pipe to the second floor. With several sharp whacks of his elbow, he had shattered a window and crawled inside. He then made his way through the building as silently as he could while listening out for that oh so familiar voice that still haunted most of his nightmares.

It didn’t take long for him to come across one of the Joker’s goons, however, which led the costumed male to believe that he was heading in the right direction. He snuck up on the lone sentry and put him in a chokehold with his free hand covering the opponent’s mouth. He dragged him into the nearest room and demanded an exact location of the villain, though it took longer than desired to get what he needed. With a blow to the back of the head, Dick then knocked him unconscious and continued on his way, now following the directions that he had just received.

“Let Judge Turpin go,” the ex-hero called through the hollowed halls as he edged further along. “He’s not who you want… not like you to ​WASTE​ your time, Punchline. Come out and face me!”

Joker: He knew the voice, he always knew their ​voices​, and it made him laugh as he spun the walking stick around in his hand, striking the unfortunate judge in the back of the head. But after all she had been through, unconsciousness was likely a welcome respite.

Emerging from the room down the hall, the cane resting on his shoulder, he smirked when he saw the unmistakeable figure. Although he mocked each Robin that replaced the next, he was quite aware of who they were, including their various strengths and weaknesses. He knew this was the first one. It was also the Robin he hated the most. “My oh my, is Batsy still sending his little birds to do his dirty work? Oh, that’s right! You aren’t ​Robin​ any more, just a poor imitation of someone greater!”

Nightwing: His jaw tightened as the Joker appeared without the judge in tow and for a split second his own Adam’s apple threatened to choke of supply of air. Blue orbs quickly observed the area ahead, gauging routes and interpreting objects that he could use in his favour, but mostly he found that no matter what he tried to calculate, the words of the maniac in front cut through and stole his attention.

Even after all this time, every single syllable that the Joker spoke froze the blood flowing through his veins. If this was what he felt like within seconds of sharing a corridor with him then he could only imagine how Jason and Patty felt.

Jason and Patty. ​Jason​. ​Patty​.

He used their names as a mantra and exhaled slowly, fingers slipping around a baton that was moments before attached to his belt.

“Your words, they’re… ​MEANINGLESS​ to me. This ends now, Joker. I’m ​ENOUGH​ to send you back to the hellhole you crawled out of.”

Joker: How many times had he squared off like this with Batman? It wasn’t the ​same​, of course, but there could be nothing more satisfying and delicious than facing his equal. Perhaps thinking the Jason incident would force Batman out of hiding was too much to hope for. Well, he could certainly be more persuasive! He knew how to ​push​ people to their breaking point.

Dick’s words were hollow to him. Joker’s eyes glinted as he laughed again, the cane slipping off his shoulder as he let it swing to and fro in his loose grip. “Surprise me, Wingbat! I know you’ll put up a fighting chance!” From all the run ins he’d had lately, he knew he would not be disappointed by this one! Subpar vigilante or not, he wouldn’t dispatch the First Robin with gunshots or leave him to his henchmen. It would be a worthwhile ​struggle​. He’d enjoy it.

He tapped the point of the walking stick on the tile floor. It emitted his signature toxin, diluted, and the chemical would only be sickening in its effect. It was still enough to incite hysterical laughter from anyone who breathed it in, which provided amusement along with a breathless opponent.

Nightwing: The second baton slipped into his empty hand with ease and he flicked both wrists so that both were now held in a ready stance. “I’ll do more than put up a fighting chance,” his voice came out in a growl as his stance shifted. He took a couple of steps forward and his jaw clenched. This was not a fight he ​COULD​ lose so every step - every thought - had to be calculated and performed with precision, but that was ​EASY​ to say when it was all in theory. This wasn’t, and the Joker was there.

Right there.

​If looks could kill​…

As soon as the cane struck the floor the original robin momentarily panicked before a sleeved arm came up and covered his mouth… but his nose. He should have known that the Joker wouldn’t fight fair. He had two friends in the hospital that were testament to that fact.

Resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn’t have long till the gas took its hold on him, Dick surged forward and aimed his first strick at the Joker’s head.

Joker: If Joker had learned anything after years of fighting Batman, it was that his preferred method was one of physical force. Those qualities had been more or less passed down to his endless bird protégés. He knew what to expect from each one of them because they were terribly predictable - although even he could admit which Robin would give him a ​challenge.​

Even amongst criminals, he could inspire fear. His unpredictability and brutality went unmatched; he knew how to use his ​presence​ to instill certain terror. Batman and his assorted minibats had encountered him more than once, and his hold had became something to overcome - some with more success.

Dick’s punch caught him in the shoulder, he’d turned to the side, and seized the cane with two hands. When he swung it at Dick he aimed for his head. The look was misleading - the stick was made of iron, and all it took was one little switch to produce a blade.

Nightwing: While studying and learning under the wings of Batman, it was made abundantly clear that anything and everything must be learned about the Joker, and so Dick learned. He could still picture the images and cases of the Joker’s handy work from when he was younger, and he would do just about anything to clear his mind of said horror, but absolutely nothing came close to the real thing, and even Dick couldn’t hide the hitch of breath as he feared the following seconds or what would become of him if he should fail.

​If he should fail…​

The production of a knife from the cane had completely bypassed his knowledge of the Joker’s weapons of choice so when it came at him it sliced through the apex of his forehead and sent him hurtling into the wall next to his adversary. He discarded a baton and placed a hand against the wound for a moment before resigning himself to the fact that he was going to bleed; he may as well do what he could before the loss became too catastrophic for his body to handle.

Before throwing the next punch became impossible.

With that in mind, he pressed a bloody hand to the wall and used it to propel his body forward once more. He ran ahead and planted a foot against the opposite wall, and with the speed built up and the agility of his many years of gymnastic’s training, the male flipped himself off the surface and barrelled his body into the grinning maniac.

Joker: There was time for another swing, but Dick’s unexpected flip made him strike nothing but air, and seconds later his weight was enough to send them both to the floor. Growling, he turned with Dick’s motion, using his own force against him so he wouldn’t be pinned to the floor.

The toxin was thickening, clouding the air, but that would hardly concern ​him​. He was immune to it.

But that wouldn’t stop him from laughing.

Joker twisted the cane in his hands, shoving it forward in an attempt to slice right through Dick’s suit. His knives were always sharp and he knew where to find soft spots in the armor. He wanted him to bleed more. It would slow him down. That combined with the toxin could be a lethal combination. “I should have clipped your wings long ago! Time is running out, ​Nightingale​!” The bomb was tick-tick-ticking away - and the judge was nowhere to be seen.

Nightwing: The swift turn made by the Joker caused Dick to roll to the side. He rose up with a hand pressed to the ground along with one knee, a determined yet lethal look etched on his features as he fought the gripping presence of the gas released moments before.

​Concentrate, Dick. ​Concentrate​​!

He could feel his stomach churning as he continued to battle the invisible force, blue hues focused on the one that he could see. But then… it wasn’t the only thing that caused his stomach to turn.

In his fleeting moment of distraction, Dick had been too slow to avoid the blade that sunk into his stomach like a knife would to butter. A sharp grunt left his lips and he stumbled.

“Enough,” he grunted as he propelled himself forward again, hands slamming into the Joker’s shoulders as he attempted to force the male backwards. “Enough with the lame one liners.”

It slowly dawned on the costumed hero that they were not the only two in the building, and Dick found himself caught between doing the right thing and his intense need for vengeance. He was still conscious, that was good, but for how long was sorely up for debate. So, with as much strength as he could muster, he slammed a fist into the Joker’s arm then spun, pushing both clenched fists out to strike at the male’s centre mass.

Joker: Each swing of the blade was timed between Dick’s strikes. He felt them - he was definitely not ​immune​ to the other’s strength and the fight moved further down the hall. He was backing up, giving the other just enough room for the knife to slice through the air again. It was all about ​timing​! Joker had arranged the situation perfectly, and without allowing for any time to save the judge. A dose of guilt might be just what Batman needed.

The window behind him was already open. He jumped back and onto the sill, balancing precariously and only long enough to judge its height. “Toodles, kid. Catch!” He tossed a small device that looked like a Zip drive. On the side was a countdown. Fifteen seconds remained. “Tell Batsy to drop me a line!”

With a sardonic smile and with no other option, he let go of the window and dropped out of sight.

Nightwing: Dick lunged forward as if he was attempting to grab the Joker before he disappeared completely, but all he got was a handful of Zip drive. He sunk to his knees and twisted in pain as the rumbling from the laughing gas took full hold of his entire being. He slowly used the window ledge as a support as he crawled over, his scanning every inch of the area for the villain. “Bye, Felicia,” he grunted more to himself than anything as breathing became painful and laboured.

But then the file beeped…

All previous thoughts about his own injuries were left in the dust as a mere second later his feet pounded the marbelled floor. “Judge…” he called out. “JUDGE!”

He was frantic as the numbers slowly got lower and lower in his shaking hand.

Five…

“JUDGE!”

Four…

He rounded a corner and shoved every door open that he could, darkened orbs terrified of what would happen if he wasn’t fast enough.

Three, two…

All he heard was the noise. The entire building shook and the lights went out, and as the fire of the blast began to spread, the unconscious body of Nightwing slumped to the ground, fingers now loose as the zip file dropped to the ground with a soft thump.

The last thing he was aware of was a blur of blue and red and gold.

[butchoneal]

Cop And His Big Ideas

Butch: {I leaned over the blueprints that were spread out over the table in the Pit. Well, they weren’t really blueprints. More like something that I whipped together based on extensive reconnaissance. They were actually more detailed than blueprints because they included things like broken walkways and clutter. I reached over to grab a chip covered in cheese from a plate off to the side. A fat glob of nacho cheese landed on the blueprint before the chip made it to my mouth. The chip got crammed in my mouth whole as I raced to save the important data from its cheesy demise. My thumb did a piss poor job but I couldn’t worry about that now because the chip was wedged sideways in me esophagus. I choked, sputtered, and stumbled backward grabbing my throat. This is it. This is how I go out. Not by a lesser, oh no. By a chip that slices up my throat on the way down. I fell back on the couch alternating between gasping for air and trying to smash my own throat in the hopes of breaking up the chip. My other hand flails madly before it lands on a discarded beer bottle. Luckily it had a little left at the bottom. I upended the thing with a ragged gasp, still choking some but at least able to breathe now.}

Vishous: *In my bedroom at the Pit, I am putting away some of the daggers I have freshly made, into the safe, located inside of my closet. I have been spending some extra time in my forge. Two reasons behind that. The first one is that I needed some sort of outlet with all of the shit hitting the Compound lately. Between the cluster fuck with @Bounty_BDBRW being shot by #Xcor, and the lessers having a major hit on glymera owned property, plus @Tehrror_BDBRW giving us all a heart attack, channeling Darius during his induction..shit. We all need a vacation. Wars  don’t lend themselves to much time off, though. The second reason being that the trainees needed some more spare daggers to work with. I just locked the safe when I hear a loud ruckus coming from the small kitchen. Granted, by itself, that is not a cause for alarm, but something about this noise means something serious is going on.  I curse, shaking my head as I round the corner, see Cop, flailing like a fish out of water, and clawing at his throat.* Cop! For Scribe’s sake, didn’t someone teach you how to chew and swallow? *shakes my head as I come around  behind him, and wrap my arms around his huge body* Did you gain weight? Or you hitting the Lag extra hard? *I get a good grip and press hard, quick successions, into his abdominal cavity, in a perfect Heimlich Maneuver, growling, starting to sweat a little* Spit it out, already! *noticing the blue prints on the table, and the cheese drop that has spoiled them* I told you not to work in the kitchen. This is why you can not play with my Four Toys. What the fuck is this?

Butch: {A sloppy clump of barely chewed nacho chip forced its way up my throat thanks to the not so tender ministrations of my room mate. My face turned a shade of red that it was never intended to be, heading straight for blue before the offending food landed smack dab on the blueprints. Normally I would have taken the time to regain my breath and maybe pretend to pull myself together. Right now the plans, that I'd been working so hard at, were at the forefront of my mind. I scrambled out of V's hold to scrape the disgusting projectile from the paper. There may have been cursing involved as well but it would be hard to distinguish what was actually being said while also gasping for air. Rampant flailing aside, I still managed to carefully remove the nasty before it did too much damage. Then I immediately dropped to my knees on the floor and actually focused on taking in the necessary oxygen. I waved to Vishous to give me a minute. I'd answer his questions, hell I wanted him involved, just not while I was busy dying. I blindly fumbled around for the paper towel that I knew was on top of the table, my hand slapping along until I got it. I wasn't going to sit here with a piece of partially digested food in my hand all night long. Once I finally managed to clean myself up I felt that I could actually talk. I got up off the floor and tossed the paper towel in the garbage. After some more coughing, and a huge glass of water, I came back to the blueprints on the table. A stupid grin took over my face. Oh yeah, this was going to be good.} First off, thanks for the save. {giving him a mock salute} Secondly... {chuckling} This is here is the layout of a shitty warehouse located in Crack Central. This particular warehouse is one that I have now acquired. Well... you acquired. WE acquired. Mazel tov!

Vishous: *watching Cop recover, I raise one eyebrow and I grab a chip out of the open bag, and eat it. I raise my eyebrow as Cop motions me to wait, and I decide to take another chip and have some dip with it. What the hell is Cop up to? I gaze at the blueprint, trying to figure out if it is someplace I have been. I am running through locations in my mind when Butch finally gains back his ability to speak. Of course, this is a curse, and a blessing,  with Cop. It has been, since he showed up on our doorstep. I almost choke on my own chip, as I hear his words* A gift? In Crack Central? *gives a sly smile* Damn, Cop! The possibilities! *momentarily struck speechless and I laugh* We still ain’t dating, true? We could use that to torture the trainees in, more combat, explosives, daggers. Remember the first day we created for the trainees? This could be so much better..*making mental notes of my ideas as I look over everything* Fuck..so many great ideas. What did you plan on doing with it? We need to celebrate! *goes off to get us some Goose and Lag* We could put in a huge tv, the best sound bars and surround sound, I could have it ready by the time the first Sox game airs this season..bigger than what we have in here…

Butch: {My eyes lit up listening to V. There was a reason we worked so well together. Our thoughts went to the same places when it came to a lot of things.} See?! I knew you would understand! It's frickin perfect! The neighbors aren't going to say shit about any sounds coming from it, aaannnndd there is a very real possibility that lesser could actually show up! {I excitedly went back over to the blueprints, pointing with my finger.} It's even got some platforms with walkways overlooking the bottom. {I snagged up the bottle of Lag and took a swig straight from it before continuing on.} So here's my thoughts. They will be looking high. So I say we stay low, in among all the boxes and clutter that is still there. {I motioned to all the debris that were visible on my improved map of the place.} We leave someone like Tohr up high so he can take pot shots at them from various locations and make them think that there are a million of us up there. At the very back, and probably up on the second level, we put a hostage. I'm thinking we put Lassy in a dress and make him squeal. And after we are done with that we set it up for the new season! {Holds up my hand for a fistbump.}

Vishous: *fists bumps back, glowing,literally,  with excitement and enthusiasm at our diabolical ideas for the trainees.* Yes! I also want to get the best sound system in here, that I can fuck with and some mirrors. I want to put some surprises in some of those boxes. We don’t want to kill them..but..let’s just say we are providing “learning opportunities” *laughing* you are twisted wanting to use @Lassiter_BDBRW. He’s been torturing me for centuries, and sharing is caring, I approve. *excitedly walks over to my Four Toys and boots them up* I have a few websites saved. Bring the map over here! *pulls up the first site* I’ll use my Black Amex, since you purchased the building. Let;s buy some shit! Check this out..Bose Virtually Invisible Speakers...we need some of those, and perhaps Klipsh RP180 home theater system might be handy.  For some good mobility we need some of these Fender Audio Passport speakers...I’ve been eyeing these for while! *clicks add all to cart* We need some explosives, now..shit..we need Hollywood and Z in here..Tohr could probably help pick out some handy ammo that will make the impact we are looking for. This is going to be a party, the gift that keeps on giving! I knew there was a reason we kept you around...shit..we need to hire some contracters, too. I want to tweak the flooring..

Butch: You wire that place up and when the season starts it will be like we are at Fenway! {eyes alight} But with comfier seats! {Picturing a couple of nice, cushy Lazyboys with a full spread of snacks and alcohol. Lowering my voice to a whisper.} We could even say we were actually out patrolling... You know... for when they make us go out on game night! Of all the stupid things! {I take another swig of my Lag before snagging up the blueprints and bringing them over to V's computers.} I love this Jack-in-the-box idea. Could even leave holes for sneaky shooting. I'm thinking of some of those pellet rounds that hurt like a sonofabitch but don't do any lasting damage unless you take one to the mush. {Watching the things that V adds to his cart and then stopping to point at the screen.} That too. We need cameras. Inside and out. Oh! And strobe lights. Hell, even a fog machine wouldn't be bad. Would hide the actual smoke grenades that fuck with your breathing. {Pulling up a chair to sit down next to Vishous. My head turns to him with a kind of awe.} What do you want to do to the floor? I'm kinda scared and already loving it.

Vishous: *I forget what we are doing for a moment, when I hear you mention the word Fenway, and my mind floats away several months from now, when baseball starts back up again.* Damn good idea! This is close to a lot of action, it won’t take us much time at all to dematerialize here, hell..we could get a patrol in, during the 7th inning stretch! Lessers and baseball. Damn, Cop. We are lucky bastards! *I resume focusing, I open up a doc on my computer and listing out some things that we still need as Cop mentions them* Fuck. Sneaky shooting is what we deal with 24/7, they gotta get used to it, feel me? Now, for the floor. *grins evilly* Well. For one, I want it to move. Both  retractable and also up and down. Various sub floors beneath. A hidden pool. *grins wide* A shit ton of stuff to keep them on their feet. Ok. Maybe a bit for my amusement, too. *shrugs* Hey. Gotta get payback on these newbies somehow, for the hours of time we put into training them, true? Stobe lights..*debates* I wonder if we need to put some kind of clause like “strobe lights will be in use” or should it just be a surprise? *reaches for my container of tobacco, and I go to click on a website that sells a wide variety of wholesale lights*

Butch: {Smacks V on the shoulder.} Seriously, you insensitive bastard? You forget that I can't zip around like Mary Frickin Poppins? Here I'm thinking it's a shorter drive and you're worried about the distance your molecules will be flying?! Damn. That cuts, bro. {Rubbing the center of my chest like I just got wounded.} I'm going to try to forget your lapse of judgement there and focus on how frickin wicked this place is going to be. {My head tilted to the side as he described what he wanted to do with the floors. I was picturing it all and I knew what a cluster of a sitch it would make for anyone walking around on them. My brow started furrowing when I actually went to think about the grand scope of what he was talking about though.} I think maybe you are getting a little too big for your britches there. Let's think about this seriously here. What you are talking about is something that is going to take a fucking long time to construct. With that kind of traffic going in and out of that building, all the sudden it loses its charming 'shit hole' quality that might possibly draw stupid frickin lesser to our doorstep. Plus... And this is the major one... All that crap won't be done before the beginning of the new season. We will have to postpone our lazy baseball watching in favor of sending snot nosed trainees through hell on earth. This seriously puts a twist in my boxers.

Vishous: *raises my eyebrow and chuckles, shakes my head as Butch hits me on the shoulder* Hey. At least we upgraded you to vampire status, true? Will you really be butt hurt if you drive, and I dematerialize? Fiiine. *rolls eyes dramatically and elbows you back* Of course we’ll drive. I won’t leave you hanging. *grumbles as I grudgingly admit that you are right, but I would never, in the depths of my 6 chambered heart,  admit it, outloud* Fun killer. But..*curses* Ok. Damn it. You are right. I don’t want you to get a twist in your boxers. You should try going commando. *shrugs* All valid points. I would love to see the kids shit themselves if lessers did arrive on our doorstep. *grins, coldly* They might very well be drawn out this way. You picked it well. Exactly the right sort of traffic, nothing that would discourage them. Shit..we could probably bait a trap for them..*my mind races a million miles a minute, analyzing, about to go off in yet another direction but I snap myself out of it, chuckling to myself, as I regain my focus. I know the faster we get everything in place, the sooner we’ll be able to have some play time with the trainees* The pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training in just a few weeks. Let’s set up some interviews with contracters..we probably should tell @Wrath_BDBRW we are spending some money..oh yeah..and the other Brothers…*pulls up my database of civilian contractors, ready to spend some time, scheming with @Butch_BDBRW. We only have an hour before we have to go teach a class*   #CopAndHisBigIdeas #BDBRW